#they are too beautiful a queen and king whatever

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (the demand)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: prelude to war

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @alkadri-layal @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The chamber was eerily silent save for the soft, fragmented murmurs that slipped past your lips. You sat at the edge of the bed, your hands clasped together in your lap, your fingers twitching, as though they still sought ink and charcoal to trace the visions that had seized your mind only hours ago.

Marna and Alys hovered nearby, their expressions etched with worry, their gazes flicking between each other as they watched over you.

"She hasn't spoken clearly since," Marna whispered, her voice thick with concern.

Alys nodded, arms crossed tightly against her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric of her dress. "She only whispers," she murmured, voice hushed, as if afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile state you lingered in.

Jason stood further back, his expression unreadable, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he listened to the hushed urgency of Grand Maester Halford and his uncle, Damon Lannister.

The maester had aged poorly over the years, his back more hunched, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched the sealed raven’s message in his fingers. Despite the weight of its contents, Jason had yet to open it. He had no need to.

You had already told him the words before they had ever been penned.

King Viserys was dead.

And now the realm was at war.

“She knew before the raven arrived,” Damon said, his voice low, his eyes flickering toward you with something between unease and understanding. “That cannot be ignored.”

Jason did not react, though his jaw tightened. He had seen many things in his life, but nothing unnerved him quite like this.

You—his brilliant, sharp-minded wife, who had never seen a thing in your life—had drawn dragons on the walls, had whispered your father’s death before a maester could even bring the words to his lips.

Jason did not believe in prophecy, did not believe in visions or gods-given gifts, but this? This was something else.

Halford finally exhaled a shaky breath before speaking. “The news has spread quickly. There was no mourning period, no council summoned. Aegon was crowned within the day of Viserys’s death."

Jason’s gaze darkened. "How?"

Halford hesitated. "The High Septon anointed him, and Ser Criston Cole placed the Conqueror’s crown upon his head. The ceremony was grand, filled with the banners of House Hightower. They had planned this, my lord. From the moment the king took his last breath, they moved.”

Jason’s fingers curled into fists.

Of course, they had.

Aegon had always been desperate for power, but Otto Hightower? The Queen? They had plotted this for years, waiting like carrion birds for the moment to strike.

“And Rhaenyra?” Jason asked, his tone measured, though cold.

Halford’s expression turned grim. “She was not informed of her father’s death until after Aegon was already crowned. She is gathering her banners as we speak—Daemon with her. She declares Aegon a usurper, and by the law of Viserys’s own decree, she is right.”

Jason said nothing.

“And now,” Damon murmured, tilting his head slightly, his green eyes gleaming, “both queens call for the West.”

That was what it came down to.

That was why Jason stood in his chamber while you whispered in half-conscious riddles, while a maester and a lord waited for him to choose the path that would alter the fate of House Lannister forever.

Jason did not look away from Halford. "And what do you suggest, maester?"

The old man sighed, rolling the parchment between his fingers. "House Lannister is the wealthiest in the realm. It is not only our swords they seek, but our gold. If you declare for Rhaenyra, the Greens will seek to cut off trade, weaken us, ensure we suffer should she fail. If you declare for Aegon, you spit upon the memory of your wife's father. If you wait… both sides will grow impatient."

Jason exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face.

“I need time.”

“You don’t have it,” Damon countered smoothly, his tone edged in amusement despite the weight of the moment.

Jason finally turned to his uncle, his expression hard. “And what would you have me do?”

Damon smirked, tilting his head slightly. “That depends, nephew. Do you care more for honor or survival?”

Jason scoffed.

There was no answer to that.

Because the truth was, he cared only for you and your children.

The realm could burn, and so long as Casterly Rock still stood, he would not shed a tear for it.

Jason looked back at Halford, exhaling slowly. “I will answer them in due time.”

Halford hesitated but nodded, understanding that no force in the realm could move Jason Lannister before he was ready.

Jason turned from them, his steps slow as he moved toward you.

You were still whispering softly, your blind lilac eyes unfocused, your breathing shallow but even.

Jason kneeled before you, taking your ink-stained fingers into his hands, pressing a firm kiss to your knuckles.

You stilled.

And then, at last, you whispered:

"The dragons will burn each other, Jason. And the lions… the lions will watch."

Jason said nothing.

He simply pressed his forehead against your hands, his heart heavier than it had ever been before.

Lady Leonella Lannister paced the length of the grand solar, her hands clasped tightly before her, her brows furrowed in deep thought. The chamber was filled with the murmurs of Lannister kin, each speaking in hushed, urgent tones, the tension in the air thick as mist upon the Sunset Sea.

It had been hours since the raven arrived, bearing the grim news of King Viserys’s passing and the immediate coronation of Aegon II. Yet, despite the weight of what had transpired in the capital, her mind was occupied with another concern entirely.

"Where is Tyland?"

The question lingered heavily, unspoken but ever-present.

Jason’s twin had remained in King’s Landing as Master of Ships, one of the few Lannisters still stationed within the treacherous walls of the Red Keep. But now? Now the Greens had seized control, and Tyland’s fate was uncertain.

Lady Leonella turned abruptly, her eyes landing on Ser Alester who stood near the chamber’s hearth, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was grim, his thoughts likely mirroring her own.

"Has there been any word?" she asked, her voice steady, though beneath it was an edge of worry she did not care to conceal.

Ser Alester exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "None yet. But I have sent men to Lannisport to watch for ships arriving from the east. If he fled, he would have sought passage before the city locked itself down."

Leonella's lips pressed into a thin line.

Fled.

Tyland was no coward, but he was pragmatic. He would have known the moment Viserys drew his last breath that the balance of power had shifted. He would have known that the greens would move quickly—and if he did not align himself with them, then he was in danger.

She turned next to Damon Lannister, who sat with a goblet of wine, swirling its contents slowly. Unlike Alester, Damon was not troubled—or at least, he did not show it.

"Tyland is no fool," he mused, finally looking up. "If he saw which way the wind was blowing, he would have found a way to slip out before things turned to chaos. He knows we cannot help him from here."

Leonella narrowed her eyes. "And if he did not get out in time?"

Damon hummed, tipping his goblet lazily toward her. "Then we will see how well the boy can talk his way out of things."

The words irritated her, though she did not let it show.

She had never favored Damon’s way of handling matters—always too relaxed, too unbothered by the seriousness of the world around him. He treated war and politics like a game, where luck and wit were the only tools one needed.

But Leonella knew better.

Aegon had been crowned within a day of his father’s death.

That was not the work of a boy scrambling for power—it was the work of a family that had been planning this for years.

The Hightowers had made their move, and now the realm would bleed for it.

Leonella took a slow breath, steadying herself.

"And where is Jason?" she asked finally, her tone shifting slightly.

Damon smirked behind his goblet. "Where do you think? Still with his wife."

Leonella sighed, though she was not surprised.

"How is she?" she asked next, this time directing her gaze toward Maester Halford, who had just entered the chamber.

The old maester hesitated, adjusting the sleeves of his robes before answering. "She is resting… though I cannot say she is well."

Leonella's brow furrowed. "Still whispering?"

Halford gave a slow nod. "Not as feverishly as before. But it is clear that whatever gripped her has not fully released its hold."

Leonella said nothing.

She had watched Y/N struggle for moons, had seen the way her son tried to mask his fear, how he refused to let anyone near her but himself.

She had watched as her grandson and granddaughters sat quietly at their mother’s bedside, uncertain, confused by what was happening.

And now?

Now, war had come.

"Jason will have to make a decision soon," Alester said quietly, his voice cutting through the silence.

Leonella nodded. "And you know which one he will make."

Damon gave a low chuckle. "Do we?"

Leonella turned her steady gaze to him, her expression unreadable.

"He will choose his family," she said.

Because in the end, Jason did not care for kings or crowns.

He only cared for what was his.

The air in chamber was thick with silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft, fragmented whispers that spilled from your lips.

Jason knelt before you, his hands resting upon your knees, his golden brows drawn together in deep concern, in frustration, in something softer—something closer to helplessness.

He had fought a hundred battles, negotiated a thousand deals, navigated the treacherous waters of power for as long as he could remember.

But this? This he did not know how to fight.

You were somewhere else, though your body remained here with him.

Your blind lilac eyes stared unseeingly ahead, unfocused, your fingers twitching slightly in your lap.

“The sun,” you murmured, your voice distant, hollow, as though you spoke from somewhere far away. “The sun… he falls… the dragon falls…”

Jason swallowed hard, his grip on you tightening slightly.

He had heard these whispers before.

The dreams that came to you in the dark, the ones that left you trembling, that left you drenched in sweat, murmuring things no one should know.

He had listened.

He had tried to understand.

But tonight, he could not.

You shivered, exhaling a slow breath. "Rook’s Rest… the beast is broken… he burns, but he lives… the blackened sun will rise again… but not as a king, no, never again as a king…"

Jason's jaw clenched.

Rook’s Rest? The beast? A king burned but not dead? What did it mean?

“Love,” he said softly, his voice lower, desperate, his hands clutching yours as if he could anchor you back to him. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

You blinked, your lips parting slightly, as if only now realizing where you were.

Jason let out a slow breath, leaning closer, pressing his forehead to your hands.

He sighed. “I need you,” he admitted, voice raw, honest in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. “I need you here, with me. I need to understand. I don’t know what to do, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched, and at last, your fingers moved, running lightly through his golden hair, the strands slipping between your touch.

He closed his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered again, his forehead still resting against your hands.

He had been given two choices, and both were traps.

If he sided with Aegon, he betrayed your father’s will, betrayed Rhaenyra, betrayed the very legacy that had bound you to him in the first place.

But if he sided with Rhaenyra, he made an enemy of Aegon, of Otto Hightower, of the very force that had already cemented itself in King’s Landing.

No matter which way he turned, blood would spill.

So, what was he to do?

What choice did he have that would not bring war to your doorstep?

Your fingers tightened slightly in his hair.

Jason opened his eyes, lifting his head, looking up at you.

Your gaze was distant, unfocused, but when you spoke, it was clear, sharp, though your voice remained soft.

“There are no choices without blood,” you murmured. “No matter where you turn, war is already waiting.”

Jason exhaled sharply, his jaw locking.

You tilted your head slightly, as if listening to something only you could hear.

“You will not decide war,” you whispered. “They already have.”

Jason sat back slightly, his hands still holding yours.

He studied you carefully.

“Then tell me, my love,” he murmured, low, intense, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “If war is coming no matter what, then tell me—where should the lions stand?”

You did not answer immediately.

Your fingers stilled, your breath evened, and for a long moment, Jason thought you had slipped back into whatever dream realm had taken you before.

Then, at last, your lips parted.

“Where lions always stand.”

Jason tensed.

You turned your face slightly toward him, though your eyes could not see.

“They watch,” you whispered. “They wait.”

A chill ran down his spine.

“They let the dragons burn,” you finished.

Jason stared at you, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Because for the first time, he thought…

Perhaps he understood.

Jason sat in the sunlit chamber with his eldest children, his golden head bowed slightly as he listened to the measured discussion between Aemerys, Rhaelya, Alysera, and little Tygren, who sat perched at the edge of a cushioned seat, legs swinging idly beneath him.

It was a rare moment of peace, one Jason had come to cherish amidst the growing storm. Aemerys, at thirteen, had taken after his father in both stature and presence, his silver-gold hair tumbling over his shoulders as he spoke with an authority beyond his years. The twins, Rhaelya and Alysera, were now ten, their golden curls bouncing as they chattered amongst themselves, their youthful voices a welcome contrast to the heavy silence that often loomed over Casterly Rock. Tygren, at seven, sat at Jason’s feet, fingers absentmindedly tracing the pattern of the lion sigil embroidered on his tunic.

Jason had never known a love greater than the one he held for them.

And now, war threatened to take it all away.

He was just about to ruffle Aemerys’ hair, to make some offhand remark about the way the boy had started to hold himself—so much like him, so much like a lion learning to roar—when the door to the chamber slammed open.

Jason’s head snapped up immediately, his arms instinctively tightening as Grand Maester Halford entered, breathless, his robes slightly askew.

Jason’s stomach twisted.

“Another raven, my lord,” Halford said quickly, his expression grave. “This one—directly from King Aegon.”

The children fell silent.

Jason’s eyes darkened, and without a word, he stretched out a hand. Halford hesitated only briefly before placing the sealed parchment in his grip.

Jason broke the wax with his thumb, his eyes skimming the contents.

And then—his expression shifted.

His face hardened into something unrecognizable, his jaw clenching, his fingers tightening around the parchment until it crumpled slightly in his grip. His green eyes burned like wildfire, his body stiff, his breathing measured—but only just.

Aemerys, ever the observant one, stepped closer.

"Father?" he asked carefully, his voice laced with uncertainty. "What is it?"

Jason’s throat bobbed, his jaw working.

The boy’s silver-gold brows drew together in concern as he peered up at his father. “Is it war?”

Jason exhaled through his nose before shaking his head. Not now. Not yet.

"Take your sisters and Tygren to the sept," he ordered, his voice low, firm. "Say your prayers. You may return later."

Aemerys hesitated, his lilac eyes searching his father’s face.

"But—"

"Now, Aemerys."

The boy stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides before he nodded. He turned, nudging his sisters toward the door. Rhaelya and Alysera exchanged glances but did not argue, while Tygren let out a soft whine, tugging at Jason’s sleeve.

“I want to stay.”

Jason placed a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, his grip gentle but unyielding. "Go with your brother, Tygren."

The boy pouted but eventually relented, allowing Marna, who had been standing by the threshold, to guide him along.

Jason waited until the door shut behind them.

And then—

With a snarl, he threw the parchment onto the table with force, his fist slamming down beside it. The sound echoed through the chamber, sharp and abrupt, sending a goblet of wine tumbling over, spilling crimson across the table.

"Tell me this is a jest," Jason growled, his voice low and dangerous, his teeth bared. "Tell me some fool wrote this in error."

Halford, standing rigid across the table, sighed heavily. "It is no jest, my lord. The king’s seal is genuine."

Jason’s eyes burned, his fists curling against the wood.

The letter—Aegon’s letter—was an order.

A demand.

Jason could hardly believe the words he had read.

The boy-king in King’s Landing had dared to command him—Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West—to send his wife, the princess, back to the capital.

To return her to Aegon.

Jason’s rage was slow and seething, twisting inside of him like a coiled viper.

Aegon.

That boy, that petulant child, had spent his youth sulking over the loss of his favorite sister to Jason—and now, years later, he sought to reclaim her as though she were nothing more than property.

Jason's nostrils flared, his fingers drumming against the table as he willed himself to think—to think before his anger burned him alive.

Halford's voice was measured. “It was always a possibility that Aegon would—”

Jason snapped his head toward him, his teeth gritted.

"A possibility?" he echoed, voice sharp as steel. "Aegon is a fool, but I did not take him for this kind of fool."

Halford sighed. "He has always been obsessed with her, my lord. You know this."

Jason’s jaw ticked.

Yes. He knew.

Aegon had never forgiven him for taking you away, never forgiven you for leaving.

And now—now, as a king with a crown upon his head, he thought he had the power to take you back.

Jason's body was taut with restrained fury.

His voice, when he spoke again, was low, but dangerous.

“Send a raven,” he ordered.

Halford hesitated. "To whom, my lord?"

Jason’s gaze lifted, his lips curling into a slow, menacing smirk.

“To Aegon.”

Halford tensed. “And what shall the message say?”

Jason picked up the letter again, staring at it for a long moment.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he ripped it in half.

And then again.

And then again.

Until there was nothing left but torn parchment upon the table.

Jason dusted his hands off, before turning to the maester with an expression carved from ice and fire.

“Tell the king,” he murmured, voice like a blade unsheathed, “that his command has been received.”

Halford nodded slowly.

Jason smirked.

“And tell him it has been denied.”

The chamber of the small council was bathed in the soft glow of flickering torches, but the warmth of the fire did little to ease the tension that gripped the Red Keep. The room, once a place where rulers conspired and counseled, now bore the weight of a young king’s rising anger.

Aegon II Targaryen sat at the head of the long table, one leg braced over the armrest of his chair, a goblet of strong Dornish wine clutched tightly in his hand. His fingers were white against the metal, his nails digging into the cup’s smooth surface as he stared at the raven’s message laid before him. His face, already flushed with drink and irritation, darkened with fury as he read and reread the words written by Jason Lannister himself.

Beside him, Alicent Hightower sat with a carefully composed expression, though her fingers were tightly woven together in her lap, as if to keep herself from reaching for her son, from steadying him before he did something reckless.

Opposite the queen dowager, Otto Hightower’s face was unreadable, though his gaze had not left his grandson since the letter had been delivered.

Aemond, standing near the hearth, watched with an air of quiet amusement, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips as he took in Aegon’s reaction.

"Denied?" Aegon spat, his anger barely restrained, his free hand coming down upon the table with a sharp crack. The goblet in his other hand sloshed, red droplets of wine spilling across the polished wood.

"He dares to deny me?" Aegon’s breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his fury. "I am his king. He should be on his knees, offering his fealty. Instead, he laughs in my face?"

Otto’s voice was measured when he spoke. “It was always expected that Jason Lannister would not bend easily.”

"Then perhaps we should break him."

The room stilled.

Aegon leaned forward, palms pressing flat against the table, his violet eyes burning with something dangerously close to madness.

"If he does not want to obey," he sneered, "then I will go to him myself. I will mount Sunfyre and fly to the Rock. Let him tell me to my face that he refuses my order."

Alicent’s spine went rigid. "Aegon, you will not."

His head snapped toward his mother, his lips curling into a scowl.

"I am king!" he barked. "I will do as I please!"

Alicent’s lips parted, but Otto spoke first.

"You will not," the Hand of the King said smoothly, though his words carried an edge of steel. "You will do no such thing, Aegon. The West is far from secure. To fly into Casterly Rock without an army is to march into the lion’s den alone. Jason Lannister is no fool. He would not hesitate to have you cut from the sky before you ever reached his gates."

Aegon scoffed, tipping his goblet back, draining the last of his wine before tossing the cup across the room. It clattered against the floor, rolling toward the hearth, where Aemond eyed it in amusement.

"You think Jason would kill me?" Aegon sneered. "For what? For her?"

His voice curled with bitterness, with something almost childish, something he had never truly been able to let go of.

“She was mine first,” he muttered, voice low, simmering with resentment. “I was her favorite. She loved me. But he took her. He stole her away, made her his wife, took her from me—”

"She is his wife," Aemond interrupted coolly, finally speaking, stepping toward the table. "And she has birthed his heirs. Whatever love you thought you had died the moment she bore him children."

Aegon’s gaze snapped to his brother, his teeth gritted.

"You do not know what we were," he muttered.

Aemond’s smirk widened, but there was no humor in it. "No," he said simply. "But Jason Lannister does. And so long as he draws breath, you will never have her again."

Aegon hissed through his teeth, his fingers curling into fists, his breathing uneven.

Alicent placed a careful hand on his arm.

"Aegon," she murmured, her voice low, soothing, as though taming a wild beast. "You cannot fly west. Not now. Not alone."

The young king did not move.

"You are king," Alicent said, her grip tightening on his sleeve. "You do not chase after what is already gone. You make the world bow to you."

Aegon was silent.

And then—slowly, his breathing evened.

Aemond watched him with amusement, before turning toward Otto.

"What then?" the younger prince asked. "Jason Lannister has spat on Aegon’s command. We cannot ignore such open defiance."

Otto exhaled, his fingers tapping the table.

"No," he agreed. "We cannot."

Aegon’s jaw was tensed, his rage far from settled, but at last, he turned to his Hand.

"What do you propose, then, grandsire?" he muttered. "How do we bring Jason to heel?"

Otto’s expression remained carefully neutral.

"There are ways," he murmured, "to remind Lord Lannister where his true allegiance lies."

Aegon narrowed his gaze. "Are you suggesting we take the Rock?"

"That would be foolish," Otto countered. "No—but we can wound him. We can shake his foundations. We can make him suffer before he ever has a chance to defy us again."

Alicent frowned. "How?"

Otto did not answer at once.

But Aemond smirked.

And when his eyes gleamed, it was not in amusement.

"By taking something precious."

[moonartemisia]

Is it wrong that I'm also attracted to Anne? Cause, they'll be like your bestie and lover at the same time without judgment? 🥺🥺🥺

[kmuradesu]

.‘ENTITLED’.

husband!gojo x pregnantwife!reader (afab)

» summary: leaving the busy streets of Sendai city back to its outskirts, the two of you got a bus. there aren’t any seats available, and being pregnant meant being able to sit in the priority seats. looks like they’re taken.

» CW: pregnancy, exhaustion, mentions of jizz, bus ride, stubborn civilian, teeny-weeny angst if you squint, protective satoru, threats, all happy, no swears, not proofread!

» a/n: this has been sat incomplete in my drafts for a month, only until now I’ve motivated myself to finish it (lmao). I don’t know what it is, but I love pregnancy fics with jjk.

———————————————————————

After a slow-paced stroll through the bustling streets of Sendai City and a bunch of offers from Gojo telling you he’ll buy whatever you want, the lingering sense of exhaustion finally caught up with you.

You had managed to make it an hour and a half.

The beads of salty sweat were becoming more prominent over your glossed skin, your breath being lost easily but being hard to get back. The overly frequent back aches weren’t helping either, it was like this baby was already overweight inside of you.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as your soft, now clammy, hand weaved with Gojo’s, the wedding bands glinting a perfect chrome against the sun’s humid rays. You didn’t want to become a burden, neither a random woman in the city known for sweating abnormal amounts of sweat. “I think the baby’s had enough, huh sweets?”

Your loose gaze lifted upwards to meet his, immediately feeling the cool radiating from his cerulean eyes. Strangely, through the navy lenses in his shades.

“..yeah, me too.” You breathed.

“Okayyy, let’s get the bus back - save you walking around with that watermelon inside you.” Purposefully, Satoru presented you and your bump a judgy look.

“..thanks.”

Rolling your peepers with sarcasm, you gently swung your hand with his back and forth.

“Hey, that’s what it looks like to me!”

“Well it’s your sperm, blame your own genes on the fact it’s fat!”

“WHAT?! FAT?! I’M NOT FAT. I’M A TALL SKINNY KING! AND SO WILL BE MY BABIES!” The man was very much offended, that open-mouth and crossed brow face he pulled was all you needed to know.

“..oh REALLY? WELLI KNOW FOR A FACT ITS NOT MY GENES CAUSING IT!”

And all the way to the bus station you continued on with your quarrel on who’s genes caused your bump to be so big already.

Both you were just kids in adult bodies.

——

After earning an unusual load of overcritical glances from passers-by, you finally reached the bus station where many people stood.

Looking around with concern, your brows gently furrowed, a little confusion clouding your mind. It was good that Satoru could read you like a book.. sometimes.

“It’s okay, they’ll let us go past.”

The white-haired man muttered into your ear, placing his hands on your clothed shoulders.

“What if they don’t?”

“Oh they will.”

The way he said those words made you feel something, like it was your hormones playing tricks on you.

And so soon enough after waiting for a couple minutes, you had a glimpse of the scheduled bus turning around the corner.

“C’mon then.”

Placing a hand on the flat of your bump you both moved forwards, attempting to shift to the front.

“Satoru, I—”

“Just go baby, they’ll move for a pregnant queen like you.” He reassured, eyeing the men who weren’t moving out the way at first. Like they should, the women knew to make way, all flashing you sweetened smiles as you passed them.

Eventually you had gotten to the front with a man standing in the lead. “See?” Gojo smirked, watching you tilt your head back to see his beautiful face.

“M’kay..”

——

The doors of the vehicle swung open with a but too much vigour it almost took out the poor man standing next to them.

After Gojo, being the most pampering partner ever, paid for the tickets, he ushered you forwards only to discern no available seats. Gojo would be more than happy to stand, but it was you he worried about since you were already breathless and weak to stand.

The priority was stocked up with disabled and the impaired too apart from one space.

However that man who clearly perceived you were carrying a baby, sat in the seat in front of your face - glancing at you as he did so.

How selfish. Is he not embarrassed?

“There’s no seats left Gojo, I can’t stand anymore.”

Subtly you whined, being a little irritated that you couldn’t sit down and would have to uncomfortably stand as his baby rearranged your organs.

“..hm. Let’s see.”

“Wait—”

He shuffled to the man.

“Heello. Excuse me, but my miss is pregnant. Would you mind sparing the seat?” Gojo politely asked, hanging on to the pole situated in the middle of the aisle.

“What? Err no, sorry.”

That man was not sorry at all. It made you cringe.

Gojo’s expression paused, pressing his pastel lips together in irritation. Why wouldn’t this man listen?

“May I ask why are you being so difficult?”

After hearing those words, you knew this was going to veer off sideways. Almost everyone’s eyes were glued to the scene unfolding, all looking up from the windows and screen to see two men ‘bickering’ it out.

“Difficult? What do you mean, I was here first.” It seemed like the man had issues already, as he started to flail his hands around.

“My wife is pregnant, if you didn’t hear the first time. You’re sat in a priority seat, which where she should be sitting. Are you disabled?”

He was getting defensive. It was crystal clear that the man was not disabled, nor pregnant at that matter.

“..um no? But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not giving up my seat for some cripple.”

A cripple?!

That’s it, Satoru had had enough and was desperate to split this man in half. Not a single person could insult you because he would already be on them like a hawk.

Anyways, the fact that the nasty being had called you a cripple, couldn’t help but make you feel a little too much like a burden, and your gaze saddened.

“You’ve gone too far. No-one. Absolutely no-one, is to offend my wife like that. So, jackass, vanish any place other so she can sit.”

“Or else?—”

“There is no ‘or else’ fool. You’ve already screwed the wrong person, so I suggest you move. Don’t do something stupid.”

The man, looking quite intimated, eventually got up and sulked off past the two of you.

“Thanks.” Satoru fake smiled, stalking him ‘till he had gone else where, far away from you.

All this drama had made you forgot about the achy pain surfacing your body, which immediately flowed back as realisation hit you.

“..oof-” It had subconsciously left your lips, and it made Satoru’s brows cross.

“Here you go my love. Is it hurting?”

He concernedly asked, holding your velvet hands as you lowered your rear on the much-needed seat.

“I’ll be fine, just what I needed.” You smiled back at him, tucking a stray hair behind you ear as you breathed out.

“I’m glad. Some morons just think they are ‘entitled’.”

—————— thank you for reading! this is my original idea and have worked hard on this. so please no translating, copying, posting my work on a different platform, or modifying my work. all rights reserved - kmuradesu

[gayasswitchbitch]

Here is a little funny idea? How would the monster trio (also Ace or Usopp or Sabo or Law) react to their girlfriend jokingly say “you’re definitely wearing that for our wedding” (or something like that) if she saw them wearing a fancy suit (or whatever?)😅

Whew okay this was HARD and only because I love Ace so much and I wanted to perfect his part and it stressed me tf out. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

One piece- How they react when you say “You should wear that to our wedding”

Warnings: a little suggestive on Zoro and Usopp. Aces has his insecure angsty thoughts.

Charcters- Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Law, Sabo, and Ace

Luffy- “wedding? What are you talking about?” He looks puzzled. We can’t get married yet! I have to be king of the of the pirates first dummy!”

It’s definitely second on his list. Once he’s titled king the next thing to do is make you his wife obviously (and queen of the pirates)

In a way it’s celebratory of this new chapter in his life. A new title, a new job, new way of life and a new step in your relationship all at once sounds like a good idea to him.

Zoro- “wedding? What are you talking about you crazy woman?”

“Excuse me! It was a simple joke! All I was really saying is that you look amazing but now I take it back since you want to be an ass!” You retort. You did mean it, the idea of seeing him at the altar with that tight black suit was clouding your mind, but now that he was rude about it you don’t want to give him the satisfaction!

“An ass? You’re the one throwing that shit on me out of nowhere! Who says that so casually anyway!?” You hadn’t noticed before.. but maybe the reason Zoro became so flustered has something to do with how red his face his. ‘Is he.. no he can’t be’ you think.

“Zoro.. are you blushing?”

“OF COURSE IM NOT!”

“Zoro you’re blushing! At the thought of marrying me? Oh, who knew you could be such a little sap!”

“Shut up! You’re lucky I tolerate you at all!” He yells back. He’s trying his best to seem uncaring, cool, and calm but it’s not working. Secretly, or really not as secretly as he would like, the idea of seeing you in a pretty dress and then taking you home after to start the honeymoon makes his body hot. He thinks arguing with you will make him forget about it.. but he also forgets he kind of likes it when you fight with him ;)

Sanji- This man melts to the damn floor. He’s both in shock and utter euphoria. He’s a little puddle on the ground, holding onto your ankles, mumbling about “I can’t believe im so lucky, so loved, this is the best day of my life” but in a second he’s back to his feet, shoving his face so close to yours his chin hairs are tickling you. “My love, tell me you’re joking I can’t handle this.”

Once you explain that you do in fact want to marry him someday he starts bawling. “Okay then we need to start planning now. I assume you’ll be wearing white, I’ll wear white too of course. We need to pick the flowers. Roses are always a good choice they’re a symbol of love but so overdone maybe we should do lilies.. oh but-“

“Sanji!” You yell. “I said SOMEDAY not immediately right now! And how are you speaking so fast while sobbing you need to sit down!”

But he doesn’t. Now that you said it it’s all he can think about and will not stop planning and talking about it and driving you crazy until the day you’re at that fucking altar and you better believe he’s making it the most beautiful and spectacular wedding you ever saw.

Usopp- Usopp goes red. A red you’ve never even seen before he’s so flustered. “W-wedding? Like- marriage? Like-you marrying me?” You tilt your head to the side a little confused and bemused at the same time.

“Well, Honey… we have been together for a long time.. I assumed we would get married one day. And again, when we do you HAVE to wear that.” You walked up to the shivering man and lock your arms around his neck. “Maybe not for too long though.. seeing how it looks.. I might not be able to stop myself from-“

“OKAY Y/N! That’s enough for now! I can’t handle any more of your flirting!”

You would think he’d be used to it by now 🤷‍♀️

Sabo- “Oh? How forward of you y/n” he smirks. He’s looking deep into your eyes, the most adoring look on his face. “Am I to presume this is your way of proposing? I mean I wanted to be the one to do it, but how can I resist when my beautiful girl is the one doing it? I guess I’ll have to give you this so you can do it right.” Sabo digs in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a small square box. He’s a smart man. He knew a long time ago that he was going to marry you. He was just waiting for the right time to ask.

Law- Man CHOKES on air for a second and has to fight for his life to regain composure.

Of course you would think of marriage. That’s a very normal sequence of a relationship. You meet, become friends, date, and then.. well he honestly hadn’t considered it. Law liked how things were. He didn’t see a reason to change it. Law liked staying up late to wait for your knock on the office door, you peeking your head in and asking if he’s busy. Of course he was busy, he was always busy, but he liked when you would intrude, when you’d ask how his studying was going and he really liked when you would push the book away and slide into his lap to spend the rest of the night kissing him all over.

Remembering all these nights brings a smile to his face. He knew he’d be an idiot to let that go. Maybe having those nights for the rest of his life wouldn’t be horrible.

Ace- After hearing those words from your mouth Ace freezes in place and for the first time in his life, Ace is praying to gods he didn’t believe in and begging them to keep you close to him for as long as possible.

When Ace first asked you to be his girlfriend he had a hard time believing that you said yes. It was like he was dreaming and has been dreaming ever since. The thought of you wanting more, a marriage, is unfathomable to him at first.

It would be a lie to say he’s never thought about it, but the times he has only broke his heart. “Don’t kid yourself” he’d think. “There’s no way she’ll stay with me that long. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes I don’t deserve her. That I’m not worthy of her love. That there has to be someone better for her out there.”

Overall what mattered to Ace most is that you’re happy. “No matter how little, any time would be enough with her” he often thought to himself. At least he got to touch you, kiss you, make you smile. He cherishes every second as much as he can. Anytime you throw your head back in laughter, anytime you kissed him, anytime you said “I love you.” he knew these would be the moments he would look back on when he thought of you. On those days where he’s missing you a little more and you’re long gone with the actual love of your life.

So for you to bring up marrying him so casually sent his brain into overdrive. It would take Ace a few minutes to realize you had actually said that, and that he wasn’t hallucinating. It’s truly hard for him to comprehend that you love him so much. He would ask if you were joking at least five times before it really settled in. Once it did he would be elated, jumping around like a little kid, his mouth moving a mile a minute going on about how much he loves you and planting kisses on every seeable inch of skin.

Ace finally stops jumping around like an excited puppy to pull you in closer. He reaches his warm, strong arms around you and pulls you in closer. With a final kiss on your cheek, Ace rests his head on your shoulder.

“You’d marry me?” He’d ask looking up with a goofy grin.

“Ace.. we’ve been dating for forever and I love you.. why wouldn’t I want to marry you someday?”

That was all Ace needed. He’s running to the nearest town to sell everything on his body if he needs to. He doesn’t care the cost, he needs a ring and needs it now. Ace now has to propose as soon as possible.

Now that he knows you’d actually marry him he’s locking you down before you get the chance to rethink…not that you ever would.

[stclaretarot]

PAC ⭒ how will your future spouse show you love?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards pulled · queen of cups, four of pentacles, four of swords, four of wands, five of swords. 

channelled songs · no name no 5 by elliott smith. night away by taemin. sick, nervous & broke! by jpegmafia. 666 in luxaxa by backxwash. 

my dear group one  ♡ your future spouse may be a busy person with little time to themselves, let alone time for you. however, they never use this as an excuse. 

your future spouse may constantly be away from home, for some, as they are a trucker, or because they moved somewhere with better job opportunities.

however, to your future spouse, effort equals love and love equals effort, and so they will still do whatever they can to show you that they love you. in particular, they will write you long letters that they mail to you. or write you long paragraphs keeping you updated about their life and checking in with you about yours. or they may take the time when they have it to write you what is essentially a newsletter. 

they may also send you long voicenotes when they can, or make the effort to call you, even if only for a few minutes. 

GROUP TWO

cards pulled · the lovers, page of cups, ace of cups, five of pentacles, four of pentacles. 

channelled songs · fever by ateez. bolo by penomeco & ydg. lubie by lous and the yakuza. tender love by exo. 

my dear group two  ♡ your future spouse is the epitome of a romantic. they are just SO romantic. they are romantic to their very core, and is almost certainly the most romantic person that you have ever known, let alone ever been with. 

this may be overwhelming, and also too good to be true. 

they will dance with you, make you playlists, and go above and beyond to take you to all the best events and restaurants in town. this may be to an extreme, where they may not have a lot of self-control when it comes to spoiling you and romancing you. 

GROUP THREE

cards pulled · page of pentacles, queen of swords, ace of wands, three of cups, eight of cups.

channelled songs · man in the mirror - 2012 remaster by michael jackson. suddenly by nct 127. solange by tobi lou & glassface. diet coke by pusha t. 

my dear group three ♡ your future spouse  is practical and has a very level head on their shoulders. they are a careful and cautious person, who will show you love by extending this care to you -- especially in making sure that you are looked after financially. 

but, not just by providing for you, but by making sure that you are able to look after yourself financially. by making sure that you are independent, have financialy knowledge, and are able to look after yourself without them.

they will help you save money in the now so that you can look after and spoil yourself in the future. they will constantly be on the lookout for ways you can make more money. they will also make it a priority to be careful with your money so that you can travel, have nice holidays together, and experience all of lives luxuries.

GROUP FOUR

cards pulled · wheel of fortune, eight of cups, the hierophant, seven of cups, king of cups. 

channelled songs · love this by cosmo jarvis. rose parade by elliott smith. real you by twice. guitare et tambourin by dalida. 

my dear group four  ♡ your future spouse will show you love by being your biggest hypeman. they will hype you up and compliment you constantly. 

you may be somewhat or quite insecure, and so it may be a priority to your future spouse to let you know how beautiful and attractive you are. no, not only that, but how absolutely amazing and incredible you are. 

they will make sure that never a day goes by without complimenting you. they will make an effort to overcome your insecurities with you. for example, if you are insecure about your body and want to lose/gain weight, they will go on that journey with you, supoorting you all the way. or if you are insecure about your education, they will take full responsibility of your household and finances so that you can study full-time. 

nobody believes in you more than your future spouse. 

[galamalion]

୨୧. 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

summary. luffy's relationship with hancock begins to strike a deep nerve within you.

⤷ contents. monkey d. luffy x gn!reader, fluff + angst, boa hancock is rude, jealous!reader, light angst (resolved by the end), slight miscommunication // wc. 2.1k

⤷ notes. request by @amortentiaz for a jealous!reader over luffy's relationship with boa hancock. i think i got a little too invested in writing reader's anger, maybe i should write some more angst... i hope you enjoy! <3

Your boyfriend wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Was he caring? Of course, he cuddled and hugged and kissed you near constantly. Was he attentive? Easily, he always wanted to snuggle with you, no matter your location—even if it led to some unfortunate circumstances.

But he may just be the most scatterbrained boyfriend anyone could ask for, and your current situation was perhaps the best example of his obliviousness.

"Ah, Luffy! I have more food if you want it!"

"Really?! Thank you, Hancock!"

You and Luffy had gotten pulled off your ship by a terrible storm, only a small makeshift raft of wood to keep you afloat. A miracle had led you to land on Amazon Lily, an island led by a woman with a fixation for Luffy.

And so here you were, stuck watching the most beautiful woman in the world drape herself over your boyfriend like they'd been married for the last thirty years. Sure, your boyfriend was the greatest catch in the East Blue, but he was your boyfriend. Not Hancock's 'sweetie pie honey bun super-special pirate king.'

You had just finished talking with Jimbei through the snail transponder, who informed you that the ship would be there tomorrow in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant you would have to stay here.

"Alright, Luffy," you sighed, "The Thousand Sunny will be here in the morning, which means that we're stuck here for tonight."

"There's a room prepared for you in the palace if you need it, Luffy! I can have whatever you need brought there," Hancock swooned, feeding Luffy a drumstick.

"Ooh! Hey, is there anything you need, ____?" Luffy turned to ask, voice muffled by all the meat stuffed inside his mouth.

You looked behind Luffy to meet eyes with Hancock, watching her expression sour at the mention of your name.

"I think I'm fine. Thanks, Luf," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Ok, but Hancock can bring us anything, so if you change your mind you can ask her!" he grinned, taking another large bite of the drumstick.

You sighed, briefly meeting eyes with Hancock who silently scoffed at your presence. Angrily, you stomped out of the palace and out of the town, going far, far away from the oh-so benevolent queen of the island.

As you walked into the expansive forest of the island, you began kicking a rock with each step, muttering under your breath.

"Oh Luffy, here's some yummy food!" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, what dress do you think I should wear?" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, you should break up and we should get married and have a bunch of tiny beautiful babies!"

You kicked the rock off the path, watching it roll off into underbrush and onto the grass floor of the forest.

"Go on then," you grumbled, "go get married to the prettiest girl in the world! then you can really be King of the Pirates..."

As you walked further into the tropical forest of the island, you came upon a rocky cliff, a beautiful location covered in small plants and light foliage. Rocks jutting out harshly in every which way, moss growing upon it, unbothered and untouched.

This is just what you need.

You stepped up to the edge of the cliff and gazed at the forest below, wild and vibrant green hues filling up every space you looked at. The sky was similar, a brilliant cloudless blue, like a calm blue sea without a boat in sight. You could stare at this serene scene for all of eternity, if only time allowed.

Sighing wistfully, you closed your eyes and stretched your body, taking a deep breath.

And then, you screamed.

You screamed at nothing and everything, all at once. At Hancock and Luffy, together, singularly, at their actions, at their attitudes. You shrieked at Hancock's cruel expressions, her blatant disregard for your own feelings. You screeched at Luffy's oblivious disposition, his inability to realize how you felt about all of this. You screamed until your throat burned, until you could feel your eyes welling up with tears and your screams turned into sobs turned into silent crying.

Needless to say, it was a much needed catharsis.

You calmed yourself down and walked back to the bustling city, taking in the nature surrounding you. As you continued walking, a long, rubbery leg touched down onto the forest path. The leg was attached to your boyfriend, who jumped down from the trees with a bewildered and frightened expression on his face.

"Are you okay ____?!" I heard—"

"I'm fine," you snapped, brushing past him.

Luffy gave you a confused look as you walked towards the village, on your way to check out the room in the palace Hancock so graciously gave you.

It was placed right next door to Hancock's own chambers, no doubt because she wanted to keep Luffy close, but the interior was far more shocking. Instead of a giant king sized bed in the middle, two beds—one far bigger than the other—with a great deal of space separating them were inside. It was almost too obvious to tell which bed was Luffy's, given the amount of food and gift baskets surrounding it.

You were just shocked that she put you in Luffy in the same room.

Deciding it wasn't worth complaining about, you instead searched around the castle in search of a library, a place Luffy would never look for you.

It wasn't that you were mad at him. No, it would be more accurate to say that you were furious. But you knew deep inside your mind that it wasn't his fault. But you also knew that if you saw him again, you would blow up, explode, in his face.

You stayed in the library until midnight, reading fairy tales and historical texts, immersing yourself in the stories and history these books contained. You could feel the anger and jealousy in your veins dwindle with each page you read.

Once you had returned your amassed collection of books back to their shelves, you made your way back to your room. Expectations were low, you were fairly certain that Luffy wouldn't have a clue regarding your feelings, and a conversation would most certainly need to happen.

Walking quietly to your shared room, you carefully opened the door. the first thing you noticed was that Luffy was still awake, crouched in the middle of his bed. It wasn't strange for Luffy to be awake so late in the night, knowing that his sleep schedule was pretty irregular, but an unusually upset expression was etched into his face.

The second thing you noticed was that the delicious gifts surrounding his bed were uneaten, unopened, the wrapping on a few having not been touched.

Luffy noticed you immediately, the corners of his lips pulling down even further, his brow furrowed in a mixture of, seemingly, sadness and confusion, like a puppy watching their owner leave for the first time.

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out quietly, clutching his knees.

All you could do was sigh in response, moving to sit on your own bed.

"I don't know," you confessed, looking away from him. "I'm...mad, yeah. But at you? I don't know."

Luffy remained quiet until you decided to break the silence.

"Hancock is pushy," you crossed your arms, "she's pushing my boundaries and she's pushing her way between us. I know she's a friend of yours and she's helped you a lot, but it hurts to watch her snuggle up to you and talk about the 'love' between you."

You looked up at Luffy, seeing the realization and hurt flood his eyes, his fingers twitching as his legs slid towards the edge of the bed.

He didn't say anything yet, instead squeezing the blankets and looking down at his feet, clearly composing his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, ____," Luffy whispered, standing up from the bed. "I know Hancock does nice things for me, but I don't see her like I see you,"

"Then why don't you tell her off? Tell her to leave you alone, tell her you're in a relationship?" you pushed, feeling the jealousy seething out of you.

Luffy frowned and walked closer to you, sitting down on your bed. "You're the greatest treasure I've ever found," he confessed, moving his hands to yours, "it's like you're so shiny and bright, and everybody else is all gray. I know Hancock talks a lot and gives me a lot of food, but if you don't want me to talk or take stuff from her, then I won't, promise!"

Despite your attempts to remain stoic, you were unable to disguise the twinge of a smile caused by Luffy's statement, choosing to nuzzle your face in his neck to hide.

"You don't have to ignore her, Luf. Just ask her to tone it down, maybe? She is the queen of this place. Even if I'm mad at her, I'd rather not piss off someone who can kill us with a snap of her fingers," you mumbled, playing with his vest.

Luffy gave you a big hug, wrapping his rubbery arms around once, and then twice. "If she tries to hurt you, then I'll stop her! You're way more awesome than her," Luffy declared with a pout, falling back into your tiny bed with you in his arms, "and I promise I'll be an extra awesome boyfriend for you."

"You're too sweet, Luf," you laughed softly, hugging him tighter. "But maybe we should move to the bigger bed?"

"I'm too tired, and I'm already comfy," he whined.

"Fine," you grumbled, too tired to argue with your much stronger boyfriend (and captain.)

"G'night, ____," Luffy hummed, pulling you closer to his chest.

You smiled, shutting your eyes, "Night, Luffy."

The morning seemed to come swiftly, light spilling into the room and striking your face. Your boyfriend was still wrapped around you like a vice, caging you tightly against his chest.

"Luffy," you groaned, trying to push him away, "you gotta let me go, it's time to get up,"

Luffy moaned and pressed his face to your chest, "Five more minutes, pretty please?"

"Jimbei said the ship would be here in the morning, the mor-ning, Luf. If we're late to meet them then Nami will beat our asses."

"Then I'll beat her up!"

"Then I'll have to dig your grave."

Luffy pouted and retracted his arms, crossing them, "Fine, we can go now."

Now free from you boyfriend's hold, you and Luffy changed your clothes for the new day, then exited the bedroom.

Immediately upon opening the door, you were greeted with the beautiful, illuminating face of Boa Hancock, who was clearly shocked and upset to see you exit with Luffy.

"Ah, Luffy! I just wanted to see if you wanted to have breakfast? I've had 60 eggs cooked and 30 plates of meat—"

"Sorry, Hancock!" Luffy interrupted, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, "we've gotta go!"

"But—"

Without letting her get another word out, Luffy sprinted through the halls of the palace and out of an expansive window, stretching his way across the viridian forest below.

The sights below were familiar, but it was strange seeing them down below. You could make out the path you travelled through the leaves, even catching a glimpse of the cliff you had stood on last night, a horrible moment during a horrible day that seemed so far away now.

As Luffy jumped from tree to tree, occasionally breaking through the canopy to give you that bird's-eye view, you eventually landed at the gate to Amazon Lily, where the thousand sunny was currently floating.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Nami yelled up, waving her arms, "you're just in time! Let's get out of here!"

"Please, let me go! I need to get onto that island!" Sanji cried out, held in place by Robin's devil fruit-generated limbs.

Luffy let out a boisterous laugh, "We're comin' down! Let's go, ____!" he howled, sprinting towards the ledge.

You looked over your shoulder, fear in your eyes, "Luffy, don't you dare!"

Luffy, ignoring your pleas for a safer entrance, leapt onto the ship with a battle cry, landing perfectly on the wooden deck with you in hand. He gently set you down, flashing a grin as he patted your shoulder.

"Wasn't that fun?!" Luffy exclaimed, dusting off his straw hat.

You collapsed in shock, sprawling your limbs out on the deck as you recovered from your near-death situation.

"We'll...we'll work on that," you panted, desperately attempting to catch your breath.

"Sweet! Let's go now!" Luffy cheered, pulling you back up

"Go? Where?" you asked, astonished, "we just got back to the ship?"

"I told ya, I'm gonna be and extra super awesome boyfriend!" he beamed, "now we have to go do some extra super awesome stuff!"

He once again wrapped you up in his arms, flashing a smile as he hugged you.

"I promise I'm gonna be a way better boyfriend from now on, I won't disappoint you!" he beamed.

You smiled back and ruffled his hair, kissing his forehead.

"You're already the best boyfriend I could ask for, Luffy."

"But I can be better!"

"Better than best?"

"Best of the best!"

You threw you head back and laughed, squeezing him back.

"Alright, Luf. Show me what you have in mind."

[gracexthoughts]

Seven

jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!aunt!oc

content/warnings; canon typical incest, slight talk of death/violence, Alicent being rude, angst and fluff

summary; Jacaerys and Aelyria were childhood bestfriends, inseparable and mischievous, until the princess Rhaenyra moved her family to Dragonstone, leaving her youngest half sister without her closest companion. Nearly a decade later, King Viserys has decided the feud within his family too far gone and declared the betrothal of Prince Jacaerys to his youngest daughter to help heal the rift. 

a/n; inspired by seven by taylor swift and jace’s talk with baela about fathers. I know this pairing has been done a lot but I really love it and hope I did it justice. about 4k words. 

Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

“Aely!” The young prince Jacaerys called after the princess as she sprinted off into the woods. “Slow down!” Even though he was taller, she was quick and had run off before he could even get ready. Her laugh rings out over the grass as she darts into the woods, Jacaerys on her heels. 

The entirety of the royal family, accompanied by many lords and ladies, had traveled to the Kingswood for a royal hunt in celebration of the Prince Jacaerys' 10th name day. As he is the future heir to the Iron Throne, the crown had spared no expense for the celebration. Jacaerys himself, however, was not at present interested in whatever creature was being tracked down in his name, his sights set on adventure with the young Princess Aelyria, the King and Queen’s youngest child. Having been born mere months apart, they had grown to be quite close; they trained with their dragons together in the Dragonpit, had discovered and begun exploring the passageways in the Red Keep, and Aelyria had taken to sneaking into the princes’ training sessions in her own desire to learn to fight along with her favorite nephew. And when she would inevitably get dragged away by her mother or the septa, Jace would sneak into her chambers later that evening with two training blades in hand to teach her what he had learned that day. 

As Jacaerys breaks through the treeline, he runs straight into Aelyria, who had stopped suddenly in the woods, sending the pair tumbling forward in a heap of limbs. “Jace!” the princess cried, a laugh in her voice as they disentangled themselves and their cloaks. 

“You’re the one who stopped!” Jace laughs in his defense. “Why did you? I thought we were racing to the creek,” he wonders, standing and extending his hand down to help up the princess, a princely boy even at his young age. 

“I thought I saw something but we must have scared it off now,” she says, taking his hand and standing, not bothering to brush the dirt off her skirts. The princess’ lilac eyes flicker with mischief as she looks around the woods surrounding them, her eyes settling on a nearby tree with low branches fit for climbing. “C’mon!” 

Before Jacaerys can respond, the princess is pulling herself up to the lowest branch, swinging her legs over with ease, not a care in the world for the preservation of her skirts. She was always quite boyish, never heading her mother’s lessons of ladylike manners and behaviors. The young prince has never minded though, enjoying her wildness and sense of adventure. A day with her was never boring. 

Soon the young royals were high in the treeline, standing on either side of the large trunk balanced on branches as they took in the view around them. Their breaths were labored from the climb, their cheeks flushed and smiles wide. The ruckus of the hunt was left far behind and below them, not able to reach them in the trees. “I wish we could stay here forever,” the princess sighs, sitting down on her branch, her legs swinging. 

“Why?” the prince asks, watching her curiously. 

“It’s quiet,” she says softly, looking up at the still standing prince. “And beautiful and here my mother can’t yell at me to be more ladylike.” She rolls her eyes and mimics her mother’s intonation. Jacaerys laughs, climbing over and sitting next to the princess on her branch. 

“When we are older, I’ll be King and I’ll command your mother to leave you be.” 

“Will you let me be a knight?” the princess asks, excitement in her voice. 

“If you’d like!” Jacaerys laughs. “You could be my sworn protector.” 

“I���d be a brilliant knight.” the princess declares, straightening her back and puffing out her chest and the pair fall into giggles. 

“Well I promise then, once I’m King I’ll make sure your mother can never tell you to be ladylike again!” Jacaerys declares, holding out his pinky to the girl, who smiles and links hers with his, thankful for him. 

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you

Jacaerys makes his way through the dark halls of Dragonstone, his footsteps echoing through the hall as he makes his way to the Great Hall. Nearing his destination, the voices of his mother and stepfather leak out through the ajar door. He pauses for a moment, not wishing to walk in on an intimate moment. 

“He says he wishes for it in the hope it will heal the rift between our families,” his mother says, her voice smooth and calm. 

“So he may fall prey to their vicious children? How do we know this isn’t a Hightower scheme?” Daemon challenges with clear disdain in his voice. 

“I cannot believe this idea came from Alicent nor Otto,” the princess responds. 

“Does not mean she won’t take advantage of it. She may be instructing Aelyn on how to best manipulate him at this moment.” 

“Her name is Aelyria, Daemon,” Rhaenyra corrects, peaking Jacareys’ interest further. His mother’s youngest half-sister was not a common topic of conversation in their home, even if she far preferred her half-sisters to her half- brothers. “They were friends when they were children; Jace doted on her even. It may prove to be a good match.” 

Daemon opens his mouth to respond but stops when he sees Jacaerys entering the room with a questioning look on his face. 

“Jace,” his mother says happily, smiling at him and motioning for him to come in. He obliges, his long stride carrying him through the room quickly to stand at the Painted Table with his mother and stepfather. “Apt timing. We just received word from your grandsire the King, he has suggested a match for you.” 

“A match? Who?” the young prince inquires, his gaze darting between Rhaenyra and Daemon, acting as if he had not been eavesdropping. 

“The Princess Aelyria. You are the same age, both unwed, and the King remembers how close you were as children,” his mother states, setting down the scroll of parchment in her hand on the table. “He thinks you would make a fine pair, and she a good Queen to have by your side.” Daemon scoffs slightly to her left, walking away to lean against the mantle above the hearth. Jacaerys stays silent for a moment. Marriage was something he knew would be coming but in truth, he hadn’t given it much thought. The princess he remembered was a small, spirited little girl with a quick wit and even quicker temper. She often snuck out of her own lessons to join the princes in their trainings, and trained in the Dragonpit alongside them for many years. He’d certainly held a boyhood crush on her then but Jacaeyrs struggles to imagine who she has grown into.

“What say you, Mother?” he asks finally, looking up from the Painted Table to meet her eyes. 

“I quite agree with my father,” she says after a moment. “It would do well to have our line of succession shored up, and the princess would make a fine match. While she has a reputation for being a little wild, I also hear that she has a good heart and a kind reputation among the smallfolk that would strengthen your reign when the time comes,” She says, moving closer to her son, “But it is your opinion that matters most in this.” 

“And of the Hightowers?” Daemon interjects from his place at the hearth, his eyes fixed on the flames. 

“Even they are not above the will of the King,” Rhaenyra responds, “We would have to go to King’s Landing for the wedding, but we needn’t stay.” Jacaerys holds his mother’s gaze for a long moment, mulling the idea of marriage, to someone he hardly knows any longer, over in his mind. “So?” 

“Yes, I accept,” he says with a nod, attempting to look more sure of himself than he feels. His mother smiles, raising his confidence slightly, and nods. 

“Then I shall write to my father,” she says, and kisses Jacaerys’ forehead before retrieving the scroll from the table and retreating from the room. Jacaerys lingers for a moment, watching Daemon whose eyes are trained on his wife’s retreating figure.

“The Hightowers are scheming and dangerous. You should watch this girl carefully,” he says to the young prince finally. 

“She’s not a Hightower, she’s a Targaryen,” Jacaerys responds quickly, already feeling protective over his betrothed. 

“Same thing for that lot,” Daemon responds darkly before grabbing his sword from the table and following after the princess. 

Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

The Prince grunts slightly as his feet hit the solid ground after lowering himself from Vermax’s back, stiff from the long ride. He and his mother have come to King’s Landing for the first time in many years so he and the princess can be reacquainted before their wedding in a moon. The rest of their family will come for the wedding but Rhaenyra wanted to avoid any repeat of the last time they were all together. 

Jacaerys would never reveal this secret but he was quite nervous. He could barely remember the face of the princess, let alone what she could look like or what her personality was now. Was she still as wild and rebellious and boyish as she was or has she relented to her mother’s will and become a lady? Jacaerys watches quietly as his mother speaks with the guards, requesting a carriage be brought to take them back to the castle, and as the Dragonkeepers escort Vermax and Syrax into the Dragonpit. Jacaerys wonders if Vermax remembers his first home still, the place they first bonded. He is quickly torn from his thoughts as a shadow passes over them and looking up, he sees a beautiful white and golden dragon making its descent to the ground.

The dragon and her rider’s backs are facing the prince once they land but the woman in front of him was undoubtedly the princess, for he’d recognize her dragon, Starfyre, anywhere. He watches as the princess pats her dragon on the neck, before leaping from the saddle and landing easily on the ground. She faces away from him still, speaking to the Dragonkeeper in High Valyrian but the prince finds himself taking in every detail he can. Her silver gold hair is intricately braided to hang down to the small of her back, her legs are long and wrapped in trousers made for riding, and a black riding coat accentuates her curves and hangs to her knees, her voice is melodic and sure in her High Valyrian. She nods to the Dragonkeeper and turns, pulling her riding gloves off with her teeth before her lilac eyes find Jacaerys and Rhaenyra. 

“Jace?” she calls, stepping away from her dragon and closer to him. She has the wide doe eyes of her mother still but everything else of her is Targaryen through and through, sharp features and high cheekbones, and her smile more beautiful than Jacaerys remembers it. 

“Aely,” he responds with a smile, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword, unsure of where else to put them. 

“I didn’t think you were arriving until later this evening,” the princess says, her eyes scanning the prince. Like Jacaerys, she has spent much time wondering how the boy she knew has changed into the man she’s been betrothed to and she is stunned at what she finds. His face is angular and handsome framed by long dark curls. He is tall and lean while still appearing strong, his warm brown eyes the exact same as she recalls. 

“We got an earlier start than expected,” Rhaenyra steps forward, “How are you, sister?” 

“I am well, and you?” Aelyria nods. Rhaenyra has always been her favorite sibling, even if they weren’t close. She looked up to the women as a child, and her mother’s distaste towards the princess made Aelyria feel a certain kinship with her half sister. 

“We are well. Are you headed back to the Keep?” 

“I am, would you ride back with me?” she offers, motioning to the carriage pulling up to the gates of the Dragonpit. 

“That is kind, thank you,” Rhaenyra says with a smile, and a wink for her son, and moves toward the carriage but Aelyria hangs back, her eyes trailing over her betrothed again. 

“You are much changed since I last saw you,” the prince says, stepping forward. 

“I can say the same for you, nephew,” she says, failing to keep her mischievous smile from her face. Jace had always hated when she called him that as children, but he can’t find the annoyance in him at the moment, too entranced by the sound of her voice. Instead he laughs and shakes his head, holding his arm out to escort the princess to the carriage so they can make their way back to the Red Keep. 

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why And I think you should come live with Me and we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet And just like a folk song Our love will be passed on

Jacareys wanders through the halls of the Red Keep, familiarity and strangeness battling in his mind. The castle has changed much in the near decade of his absence and yet, he could see it as it was in his youth: the halls the same he and his brother ran through, the Dragonpit the same as it was the first day he rode Vermax, the secret passages the same as when he and Aelyria discovered them as children. Jacareys found himself mindlessly making his way to the training yard, allured by the sound of steel against steel. 

Jacareys steps into the training yard to find Princess Aelyria and Prince Aemond sparing in the center. He remembers well how she would watch the princes in training, even picking up a sword and practicing herself before being run off by Ser Cristen or her mother or the septa. She’s grown much in the years since he last saw her, her skills far outpacing that of which he had imagined. Jacareys watches as she circles Aemond, striking, blocking and dodging with surprising speed and accuracy. Jacareys finds his gaze drawn to her legs, unhidden by skirts as she stands in trousers, the riding coat she favors tossed over a training dummy. 

Princess Aelyria’s laughter echoes off the walls of the yard as she stands up from her dodge of her brother’s blunted sword, having ducked and rolled under the blade to recover behind him. Aemond turns around in frustration, swinging again with his blade as Aelyria reaches up to block his attack before stepping under his reach and elbowing the prince in the side. With her small stature and lesser strength, the princess had learned that speed and agility were her friends in bouts and quickly excelled in her capabilities. Aemond grunts from the blow to his side, his steps staggering slightly as his sister circles him, waiting for her to recover. 

“Ready to yield, brother?” she taunts, her lips turned up in a smirk. 

“You’re the one running,” he bemoans, righting himself and raising his sword, readying to strike again but lowers his blade, his eyes fixed over Aelyria’s shoulder with a sly smile. “Come to train, nephew?” The princess turns, her eyes finding Jacaerys pushing off the wall, his brown eyes trained on the prince. 

“To speak with my betrothed,” he answers, his gaze shifting to Aelyria and softening for her. Aemond eyes narrow, upset at the match as much as his mother, leveling a menacing glare at his nephew before taking his leave without another word. “He doesn’t like me,” Jacaerys states, as the door to the yard slams, and turns back to Aelyria who chuckles. 

“Aemond likes no one,” she responds, leaning on the training blade, "He merely tolerates me as he has no one else to spar with save Cole."

“It may be,” the prince says, suddenly feeling uneasy under her gaze. “When did the Queen surrender to your training?” 

“Soon after your leave, if I remember correctly. They grew weary of disciplining me with no effect,” the princess smirks. 

“As you always hoped,” they chuckle, a hint of their old familiarity returning. The prince glances at the table of training weapons. “Care for another round?” 

“If you can keep up,” she smirks, tossing him the blade Aemond had left in his wake. Aelyria makes the first move, but Jacaerys quickly counters. He holds back at first, unsure of fighting with a woman, but he quickly learns that Aelyria is quite capable and a formidable opponent and he begins to let loose. They are well matched, meeting blow for blow until both of them are sweaty and panting. 

“You fight well,” the prince compliments, his chest rising and falling quickly and a curl sticking to his damp forehead. 

“Thank you, you do as well. Much better than when you would teach me in my chambers,” Aelyria laughs, wiping at her hairline where baby hairs stick to her skin. 

“You make it sound quite scandalous,” Jacaerys jests, setting aside the training blades. 

“It was to us then,” the princess points out, remembering how careful they were to not get caught. 

“True enough,” he laughs, his eyes lost in hers, the soft lilac of her irises beautiful and intriguing to him as ever. “You know, I’ve missed you, in truth. I never had as much fun alone as with you here,” the prince says softly, stepping forward and brushing a stray hair from the princess’ brow. The air becomes thick between them, their eyes locked together. 

“I missed you too, my brothers are poor company compared to you-” 

“Aelyria!” The voice of the Queen rings out over the courtyard, startling the Jacaerys and Aelryia who back away from each other quickly. The queen stalks over to her daughter, grabbing her arm roughly. Aelyria’s face sours and she yanks her arm from her mother’s grip, leveling her with a hard stare. “You have a dress fitting you are currently missing and you look a mess. I thought you could put away this foolishness for one hour. You would think this is my wedding for as much as you seem to care about it!” 

“Mother, I-”  

“I apologize, your Grace. The princess had finished near an hour ago but I stepped in. I don’t have many sparring partners save my brothers on Dragonstone. The fault is mine,” Jacaerys steps in, unable to ignore the anger bubbling in his stomach at the queen’s treatment of her daughter. 

“Price Jacaerys, it is good to see you again. I am afraid I cannot stay, but I hope you are settling back in well,” Alicent says to the prince, her face barely masking her distaste of him, before she turns back to her daughter. “Come, Aelyria.” Jacaerys watches as the princess takes a deep breath and, flashing him an apologetic smile, turns to follow her mother back into the castle. 

Please picture me In the weeds Before I learned civility I used to scream ferociously Any time I wanted

“Come in,” Aelyria calls softly at the knock on her door. Jacaerys steps into her chambers at her permission and smiles as he closes the door. “Hi.” 

 “Hi,” the prince says softly, moving to sit next to Aelyria at the table in the center of her room. “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I did not mean to keep you and I regret that I did.” 

“I do not. I could have been bathed and early and perfectly excited and she still would have found something wrong. The fault is not yours,” the princess assures, placing a hand over his and squeezing gently. Before she can pull her hand back, Jacaerys clasps his hand to hers, relishing the feeling.  

“I’m sure it is hard for girls and their mothers as it is with boys and fathers,” the prince says sympathetically. 

“Is it hard, with you and your stepfather?” The princess asks, her eyes on their hands. 

“Sometimes, it was strange at first but he’s been my father almost as long as my actual father was,” Jacaerys shrugs. 

“You know, I don’t think I ever got to tell you how sorry I was for you when your father passed,” Aelyria says softly.

“Oh,” the prince says, surprised by her and shakes his head. “Seems so long ago now but I was glad he passed on Driftmark, I know he missed it while away.” 

“That’s not who I meant,” the princess says, and Jacaerys, on instinct stiffens at the realization she means Ser Hardin Strong, and not Leanor Velaryon from whom Jace received his name. “I don’t hold it against you like my mother and brothers do. Seems a silly thing for them to care so much about,” Aelryia adds quickly, sensing his unease. 

“Really?” Jacaerys eyes find hers, shock shining in the dark brown of them. 

“You wouldn’t be you if you had another father and I’ve always quite liked you as you are,” the princess smiles, her thumb grazing against the back of Jacaerys’ hand as a slight blush colors his cheeks. “What was he like?” She asks after a moment. 

“He was gentle, and fierce… They called him Breakbones,” Jacaerys smiles, Aelyria along with him, but there’s a sadness in his eyes still. “He loved us, I think.” 

“Of course he did. Otherwise he would not have defended you so fiercely against Cole.” 

“You remember that?” 

“I do,” Aelyria nods, leaning back in her chair. “It was the first time I saw a true fight. I remember thinking that I had to learn how to fight like that. It felt so necessary, like it was all I wanted… Your father gave me that.” Jacaerys blinks at her for a moment, a strange smile on his lips. “What?” He shakes his head slightly. 

“No one ever calls him my father, not even my mother,” he says after a moment, looking down to where their hands are intertwined on the table. “It’s nice,” he adds after a breath. 

“He’d be proud of you, of who you’ve become,” Aelyria says suddenly, sitting forward and using her free hand to lift Jacaerys’ chin. 

“He’d be happy we’re betrothed,” Jacaerys smiles, leaning closer to the princess. 

“Really?” 

“Yes,” he nods, “I remember one time, he happened to be watching training and you had just gotten dragged away by the Queen but you had put up a good fight before you left and he said, ‘There’s a warrior if I’ve ever seen one.’ I remember looking up at him and he just winked at me, almost like he knew.”

“I wish I had known him better,” Aelyria says softly after a moment and  Jacaerys nods, squeezing her hand. 

“Me too…” Jacaerys nods. For a moment, the pair sit in a comfortable silence, gazing at each other, taking in the fact that they’re together again after all this time. “Do you remember that hunt we had on my tenth nameday? When we ran off into the woods, hiding in the trees?” Aelyria laughs, the memory washing over her at his question and nods. 

“Yes, I do. Oh, what fun we had that day. We only got found because we could not stop laughing as they rode underneath us. Mother was so angry I ruined that dress,” they laugh at the memory together. Even though it had ended in a scolding for each of them, neither ever regretted that day. 

“I remember what I promised that day, and I swear I’ll keep it. Now that we’re betrothed, you are mine, and I am yours and once we’re wed, I’ll make sure you never have to heed your mother unless you wish to,” Jacaerys leans forward, intensity in his gaze as he makes this promise to Aelyria. “I quite like you as you are, and I won’t have her try to change you.” 

Aelyria smiles gratefully, wondering how she got so lucky as to be marrying this man; the boy she grew up with and loved as a girl, and the man sitting in front of her, with all his fierceness and devotion. Aelyria, too moved to speak, leans forward instead, pressing their lips together softly in thanks. Jacaerys doesn’t miss a beat, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek as he kisses her back. Her hand winds in his hair and their hands hold to each other tighter on the table between them. As their lips part, they don’t move away, instead connecting their brows together. They smile at each other, giddy in their love, hearts beating rapidly as one, as they always have and always will.  I, I Sweet tea in the summer Cross my heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Pack your dolls and a sweater We'll move to India forever Passed down like folk songs Our love lasts so long

[jacaerysgf]

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: While attempting to gain the support of the vale, jeyne arryn has plans of her own for the prince.

r.q: Everyone forgets house Arryn😔🤘🏻 baddies of the vale Can you write something w Jace and an Arryn maybe lady Jayne’s little sister or daughter or something? Not a totally unreasonable alliance !! They have the coolest castle and knights also Ms Aemma Arryn ™️ like hello!! (I’m impatient as hell for more Vale coverage in season 2)

w.c: 900+

c.w: baela and jacaerys are not betrothed, arryn!reader jenye’s daughter, FLUFF, just a very cute fic, drabble, not proofread

a.n: IVE HAD THIS DONE SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR NO REASON OMGGGG but with the recent jeyne content i felt inspired to write this !! just something super simple <3 HOPE YOU ENJOY !! LOVE UUUU GUYS

masterlist - requests open

“Im sorry, what my lady?”

“I wish for you to marry my daughter.”

This is not how jacaerys thought this would go. When he arrived in the vale he thought he thought he would have to make simple small talk, present some of the benefits, hells even throw some complements her way in order to convince her. This however had not been in his cards.

“I'm sorry my lady i do not understand.”

“My daughter, y/n remains unmarried, around your age, a sweet girl, agree to wed her and me and my men will bend the knee.”

He blinks. He has no clue what to say to her. Jeyne stands after a moment, “I shall go fetch her.” He watches as one of the guards tries to stop her and tells her he will go retrieve the girl but Jeyne seems determined to go herself and he moves letting her leave. Jacaerys stands awkwardly in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.

He is not too sure he can just flat out agree to a proposal without his mother position, it is not like he is a second son, he is the heir to the queen. The next king, his wife to be the next queen. Yet when he sees you walking into the room, wearing a long dress in your house colors with your mother trialing behind with a pleased look on her face he finds himself wanting to agree to the marriage right away.

You are stunning. Easily the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, sure he hasn’t seen that many women but it doesn’t matter. He watches as you bow and mindlessly nods in acknowledgment, unable to take his eyes off you.

Jeyne looks between the two of you with a satisfied look. “Why don’t you show the prince around?” She gives you a pointed look to which you nod, “Of course i would be happy to.”

He walks over and offers you his arm with a smile on his face and you graceful take it before you begin to walk off with him. Jeyne stays behind and smiles to herself.

“My mother is very forward i apologize to you.” He simply shakes his head, he finds himself look at you instead of the halls he’s supposed to be looking at. “It is not an issue my lady, I rather appreciate it.” You look at him curiously but turn away once you notice he is already looking at you. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Many people speak in riddles, not saying what they mean or truly want, your mother is a rare gem.” You smile at the praise of your mother, “She truly is.”

You lead him outside and begin to tell him about the different plants and different sculptures around the courtyards. He is so charmed by you. The way you light up when you spot something and you begin to tell him of a memory you have, like how your mother scolded you for jumping around in the fountain, or when you almost fell out of one of the window's when you fell asleep.

“You truly love this place.” He can tell. The way you smile at the guards as they walk by or the way you know every detail about everything in the walls. But he sees the way you falter slightly at his words, “Am i wrong?”

You shake your head vigorously, “no no i do, its just i have never been away from here. My mother is a very protective woman, she waves away any suitors, she never even lets me leave the eyrie it is ridiculous!” You realize you're letting your emotions show too much and bow your head, “i am sorry that was out of line.”

He grabs your hands and you look at him with wide eyes. “I understand my lady, my mother is similar, i have truly never traveled to far, i wish to explore, once my mother has her rightful throne i believe i will take the time to see westeros a little bit,” He pauses before he speaks again, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “I could take you with me? if that is what you wish my lady.”

He watches as your eyes begin to glow and you beam at him, “truly? oh nothing would make me happier.” He nods and grips your hands tighter, “I shall take you everywhere.”

He does not expect you to throw your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. He wraps his hands around your lower back, pushing his head into your neck and breathing in your scent. “I will accept your mothers propsal at once. You will fly with me to winterfell.” You pull back and give him an eager look. “Winterfell? Truly?” He nods, “I am to go meet lord cregan stark.”

You can barely contain your excitement at the thought of seeing something that was not the eyrie, especially a place as grand as winterfell.

Jeyne watched you two smile at one another from a window above with a small smile on her face. She does not hear the guard approaching her from behind, “You seem pleased my lady.” She says nothing to him for a moment, simply continuing to stare at the two of you. “Tell my men to ready themselves for war. It seems he will accept my proposal.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

[pink-amethyst-tarot]

🤍 Why You Should Be Proud Of Yourself 🤍

credit to @crystallilytarot for the idea 💕

P I L E 1 P I L E 2 P I L E 3

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and choose the pile that you think is the one for you ♥

P I L E 1 - You have come so far! Four of Swords, The High Priestess, Two of Pentacles, Eight of Pentacles, Ten of Pentacles, The Fool, The Magician

The first thing I heard before even pulling cards is The Party's Just Begun by the Cheetah Girls and that feels like a sign that you should be having fun, dancing and living your life to the fullest! Your life can be so beautiful if you let it.

You know much more than you think that you do. I feel like you are back and forth between losing faith in yourself and feeling like you are finally breaking through. (I know what that's like, I've been there too much.) You've got to cut yourself some slack. Yeah, it's not perfect now but, you have made so much progress and that is important. You are so much closer to the finish line than you realize. Don't give up now. You've worked too hard and have come too far to give up now.

party cuz you know the future's all yours // dance 'til your feet don't touch the floor // celebrate the day you've waited for // party like you're ready for so much more // do it like you know it's never been done // go a little crazy // have too much fun //today's the day, c'mon everyone // the party's just begun //

Channeled song - The Party's Just Begun by The Cheetah Girls

P I L E 2 - Going With The Flow Two of Pentacles, Nine of Pentacles, Two of Wands (Reversed), Six of Pentacles, Justice, Queen of Pentacles, Eight of Swords

Despite your fear of change, you have overcome, finding your balance in your life and either now or soon, you will be enjoying the fruits of your labor. That could be financial abundance for this pile - it seems pretty likely, considering all the pentacles. You have been a very giving person and now it's time that people start giving to you in whatever way that may fit you.

You should also be proud of yourself for getting yourself to a point where you don't feel sorry for yourself. You've done the work to really see the truth of the situation - where you have been both right and wrong - and you've seen that you aren't as stuck as you once thought.

P I L E 3 - You've opened your heart again! King of Cups, Ten of Swords, Seven of Swords, Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Swords, Eight of Pentacles (Reversed), The Moon, Ten of Cups

You've been through some hard times. I feel like your heart was really bruised and batter but, despite the things you have been through, you have taken your lemons and turned them into make lemonade! I can see some of you turning to writing, journaling, or posting on social media. You have been working on yourselves and you are so happy with the progress you've made. You should be proud of yourself; I know I am! This work you have done on yourself is leading you to a new beginning in your life, a change of pace that you have be dying to have!

Your dreams are coming true and your intuition is spot on! You are about to get everything you wanted and then some so you can relax and know that your life is about to change for the better.

If you are looking for a personal reading, you can look on my shop on Etsy at PinkAmethystTarot, DM me or send me an e-mail at pinkamethysttarot@gmail.com

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Thank you all so much for interacting with me and my readings, it really does mean the world to me!

Page Divider by @cafekitsune

LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Had another Aegon thought that definitely falls under himbo!Aegon/sub!Aegon in which his wife runs everything and being sexy while doing it. Basically they'd been promised to betrothed when they were younger but reader being from a different house thought it best to try and learn High Valyrian to be better suited. But upon finding out Aegon doesn't speak it she keeps it hidden but uses it to defend Aegon whenever Aemond tries to offend him. Just imagine she's sat besides Aegon when Aemond has his whole speech in High Valyrian knowing Aegon can't understand or respond, to suddenly have the biting words of his queen come to his defense having never heard her speak it before.

Man would be looking at her believing she was secretly some goddess or smth!

God I love himbo!aegon so much!! I’m gonna make it a tag just so we can group it all together.

I started out fully intended to keep this SFW and well, I had to put a cut in by the end so we all know how that turned out….

So firstly, I’ve never thought of this before but now that I have I can’t stop: I think Aegon would absolutely have a competency kink? Any time he sees you just completely in your element and doing anything that he doesn’t know how to… he just goes full empty no thoughts only pretty wife.

It’s an interesting development because he’d hate it if it were anyone else. Normally people being so good at things he can’t even grasp leaves him feeling insecure, stupid and inadequate to be king. But with you it’s completely different? With you he just stares in awe and then promptly gets very very turned on cause pretty wife!!! Pretty wife is so smart and talented and he is merely her little gremlin that follows her around asking for attention. He loves it so so much.

(Picturing a scene where Allicent is telling him off and trying to say he lets his wife run everything and he’s no real king but instead of him getting insecure and ashamed and doing whatever Allicent says, he instead just goes “yeah! Yeah she does! It’s great!”)

He loses his little mind every time he sees just how smart and good at politics you are? He hears you saying the perfect things and controlling the situation perfectly and then the next time you’re alone you even tell him what to do next time and just… no more thoughts. None whatsoever his wife is too smart and pretty for him to have thoughts. She is a beautiful powerful queen and he is merely a horny little jester.

You don’t tell him about trying to learn Valyrian mostly because you know it’s a bit of a sore spot for him? He genuinely has tried to hard to learn it, but it’s like his brain just wasn’t made for it. So you keep your lessons to yourself, and decide to worry about how to tell him at a later date when you’re fluent.

The problem, however is that even after you become fluent you still don’t know how to tell aegon without upsetting him. Sure he’s happy to have you make pretty much all decisions, but language skills or lack there of will always be a sore spot for him.

So for the next few weeks you spend most of your time trying to come up the best way to tell him.

When you walk into that small council meeting later that week,’you had absolutely no intention to reveal it there but then Aemond decided to be Aemond. You can understand every insult he hurls at his brother and you know aegon doesn’t understand.

What really makes your resolve break was when you looked over at Aegon and he was just sitting at the head of the table staring down. You can tell just from his body language that he’s trying not to cry and you know it’s not because of the insults themselves but because he actually can’t understand them and he feels so stupid.

You can’t take seeing that and so you fire back at Aemond, speaking to him in Valyrian. The look on his face when he realised that you understood every word he just said was incredible.

Aegon, meanwhile, is utterly astonished and just staring at you with shock and happiness plastered on his face.

He obviously doesn’t understand what either of you are saying, but Aegon knows you so well and he can tell by the tone of your that you’re defending him.

The moment the council meeting is over Aegon runs to put out a pillow down on the floor and kneel there, asking you about how long you’ve been studying been studying it and why. When you tell him you learnt it because knew he struggles with it and you wanted him to have someone he can ask to translate and speak for him without worrying of being misrepresented or misled.

Needless to say, Aegon burst into tears after that because it is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for him. You end up having to pull him up and into your lap because he was literally just sobbing while kneeling on the floor and you won’t allow that for your good boy.

You end up giving handjob while he’s on your laps and you make sure to tell him he’s doing so well and you love him very much.

All of this is to say when you fired back at Aemond in Valyria Aegon has never been more turned on in his life and he is once again reminded how utterly incredible his wife is.

Also, now you can help him with it!! Aegon stopped his Valyrian lessons a long time ago because he just couldn’t get it quite right and all the teachers were just so patronising and made him feel horrible, but now you can teach him!! He doesn’t feel stupid at all when you tell him he’s gotten something wrong and correct him and he also feels so so good when he gets something right.

And honestly, even if he does get much better at Valyrian he’d still rather have you translate for him because then he gets to hear you speak Valyrian.

[vampirenicotine]

analyzing the lyrics for “long face” feat. lestat de lioncourt and realizing it’s a louis diss track (with love) is making me more unhinged by the second.

so we open with the gorgeous oooh oooh wah ahhh hypnotizing portion of this song that will stay in your head and where samuel thyne reid is also showing off his *cough* vocal talent.

next….

“why the long face? my pretty baby” — cause you know louis is a sad girlie but also so fucking beautiful and irresistible to lestat when they met he couldn’t possibly understand what louis would be sad about but also… he’s ready to comfort him ALWAYS.

“i got long fangs come appraise me” —lestat is talking about how he’s a vampire so come asess my value and also … fangs could be a metaphor for his pink pony so!

“bring your long stakes that doesn’t phase me” — lestat is saying you can talk shit about me louis and drive a stake through my heart but i still love you teehe.

“i’m an actor in my make up” — he’s saying i can play games too, louis.

“i’ll get fatter when we break up” —so he’s acknowledging the confidence issues he had over the 77 year break up and the break ups before which…. i don’t have the words to speak on otherwise i’ll die.

“why does it matter who i take up?” —he’s saying why does it matter who i sleep with in regardless to antoinette and it’s like love you king… but you’re crazy.

NEXT!

“another face, another year, another place, another tear, pick up the pace, rack up the fears, now we’re having fun.” — this is a little love letter to his cult (us) telling us to get amplified bitch it’s only the beginning

the instrumental break/oohing and ahhing just so immaculate tough cookie alex & larry really did that!

“i’m piano and you’re forte.” — so this lyric right here is what drove me feral because it has so many possible meanings and a few naughty innuendos. what im going to land on however is the fact that lestat is saying im piano because he can be used in whatever way louis wants to use him and he’s saying louis you’re forte (which means my strength) so he’s like idc what you say about me because you hold me together 🥹

“you’re allegro, i’m andante.” —THIS RIGHT HERE HAD ME ON MY KNEES. this is exposing their sex life in the best way because lestat is saying oh i’m your black tar heroin? ok noted and lemme match that because you’re allegro (which means energetic, fast, super active, loud) so basically he says i know you’re addicted to me because i was there. you’re wild in bed and you’re a screamer. he then says he’s andante (slow) because he likes to take his time and worship louis and really make love to him. BYE.

“we’re boléro, prostitué.” —and then he’s like just because i said we go slow sometimes first and foremost we’re freaks. we’re nasty and we’re unspeakable and well… thank you so much for those visuals queen de lioncourt.

“another taste, another year, another place, another tear, another chase, another sneer, without a trace, you disappear, pick up the pace, pack up the gear, gimme some face, a souvenir, here come the gays, here comes the fear, now we’re having fun.” — these bars are what’s going to give miss lioncourt her first grammy nominations because she is summarizing her relationship with louis and hopes for the future.

he’s also telling louis he’s giving him exactly what he wants. he’s chasing him. he knows louis is gonna sneer at him and be annoyed but come anyway. he’s saying you ghosted me after our reunion but im going on tour and you WILL be my rockstar girlfriend. you’ll kiss me (or the pink pony) before my shows as good luck. he’s saying we’re gonna be gay and proud, we’ll take over the world, cause the vampire apocalypse, scare bitches, and have fun. we own the night.

and finally for the song to end with lestat losing himself and moaning into the mic (coming, smirks) as he thinks about his chaotic plan to get louis back well… it’s just music to my ears. and i will listen to it again. and again. and again. and again.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ rating for you lestat

signed,

your loving groupie.

[wicked-barbie]

Infinite Hope

House of the Dragon: Addam of Hull x fem!reader, Hugh Hammer+ fem!reader (platonic)

Rating: Teen 

WC: 2.4 k 

Prompt: Words of Affirmation for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Death (if Ulf has no haters I’m dead), canon smudging

Summary: You and your Uncle arrive at Dragonstone, in hopes of claiming a dragon and you bond with Addam

Hunger pains gnaw deep in your belly as you slowly slip on the broth to satiate it. Food is scarcer these days, and whatever you come across, you give willingly give to your Uncle Hugh and his wife, Kat, to nourish themselves and your sickly niece. Yet it is proven all for naught as she passes away within a sennight. What sort of king allows his people to starve? You set the empty clay bowl aside and stare down at your dirty hands as salty tears splash onto the mottled flesh. You hunger for more than food to fill your aching belly. This could not be the life your grandmother had imagined for you.

~~

You once had a mother with the same burgundy eyes and sienna skin you possessed and a father from your distant memories with hair of spun silver. When they died, you were placed in your grandmother’s care, who had the same silvery hair. She had been all you had known until you met your Uncle. As the past blurred in your mind, you wondered if your father had looked just like him. Saera was slowly succumbing to the passage of time, using a cane as an aide to get around the pleasure house she owned. You heard the whisperings…that your mother, too, had been a whore, and that is why your grandmother had taken pity on you. Might you follow in their footsteps one day? Perhaps there were worse fates.

The light is dull in Saera’s violet eyes. Once a great beauty, not even she could escape the weathered hands of times. It is harder for her to breathe these days, and she does not leave the bed.

“Please, Hugh, look after her,” she whispers as she holds her son’s hand.

“I promise, Mother,” he says solemnly as he slowly casts his gaze over to you in the corner, your knees pulled tightly to your chest as you try to hide your weeping.

“Take her to King’s Landing, give her a good life, one befitting of a Targaryen. Bastard or not, you hold noble blood, Hugh,” she said, her voice strained and hard as she pressed a bag of coin into his rough hands.

She passed that evening as Hugh held you in his arms. He kept his promise and took you to King’s Landing by ship, but a good life was hard to find there. You began to wish he had left you behind.

~~

You glance up as Hugh enters your small abode, and there is an odd look in his eyes. Though perhaps it is merely the weight of his daughter’s death still lingering. 

“What is it?” you question, rising to your feet and brushing off the dust that clings to your filthy, tattered dress.

“Queen Rhaenyra has summoned those with Targaryen blood to test their claim to a dragon,” he explains, and hope pounds in your chest, a feeling so long dead that the ignition of it feels foreign. “I am hoping you will accompany me to Dragonstone, niece. You have as much of a chance as I do. Can you imagine?”

“Claiming a dragon? I remember the stories,” you smile.

“As do I. She wanted a better life for you, and I failed in such respect, but maybe the tide is turning in our favor.”

“You did your best, Uncle,” you assure him, resting your hands on his massive shoulders.

“So you will come with me?”

“Indeed I will.”

~~

You wander the halls of Dragonstone, unable to sleep. You had taken advantage of the warm bath offered, your skin scrubbed clean, the faint hint of rose clinging to it, and your silver hair combed and braided. One could certainly get used to this. Your hands trace along the ancient glyphs carved into the stone walls, wondering what they said. You had once heard your grandmother speak in a tongue you did not understand. Was this the same one? It was strange not knowing of your histories.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice asks, and you nearly jump out of your skin, whirling around to face the person it came from.

“Afraid not,” you admit, approaching him slowly. There are a few smoldering torches in the braziers, allowing you a better look at his face. His smile is quite dazzling, and he reminds you of the home you left behind long ago.

“I am Addam,” he introduces, giving a slight nod of his head.

You tell him your name as you stand before him. The two of you walk side by side through the dimly lit halls.

“Have you laid claim to a dragon?” you ask.

“Seasmoke claimed me, truth be told. Nearly frightened me to death as he chased me. I thought my legs might give out from all the running.”

A smile breaks across your face as you glance up at him. “One cannot blame you. I think the first instinct when a dragon chases you would be to run, yet now you are his rider.”

“And I would assume you are here hoping for that as well.”

“To claim a dragon….would be everything to me. My grandmother was a Targaryen princess, banished by her wicked father of a King because she did not wish to abide by the traditional rules of women,” you explain.

“Goodness, I fear there is much I do not know of the Targaryens,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I only know the little my grandmother told me, and I’m certain some of it was biased, but I do not blame her for that. It seems cruel what her father did,” you reply, sitting with him on the stone steps as moonlight streams through the windows.

“Fathers are…rather complicated,” Addam sighs. You gently rest your hand on top of his, all too familiar with the complicated feelings of family.

“Do you happen to know where the kitchens are?” you ask after a moment of silence.

“I do, why?”

“I’m feeling rather peckish.” You could hardly believe the feast Rhaenyra had provided to those who answered her query. Part of you felt guilty for imbibing while those back home struggled, but you silently promised to help them when you could.

“Come then,” he grins, offering you his hand.

You take hold of him willingly, allowing him to whisk you off through the dark halls, laughter echoing off the walls. The apple is crisp under your teeth, bursting force a sweet nectar when you take a generous bite. You do not wish to be greedy, but how it soothes the hunger that still sits deep in your belly. Addam escorts you back to your room and places a kiss upon your cheek, making heat spread across your face. You never had time to entertain such notions, but you find yourself enjoying his company a great deal, even if only for a short span.

“May you be lucky in your endeavors tomorrow. Perhaps we will both be on dragonback soon,” he smiles before wishing you goodnight.

You snuggle under the warm duvet, saying a silent prayer that you and your Uncle are able to claim a dragon. Butterflies flap in your stomach as you brush your fingers across your cheek, feeling the lingering remains of Addam’s kiss. Finally,  you are able to sleep.

~~

Trepidation hangs heavy in the air as the group follows Queen Rhaenyra into the mouth of the dragon pit. As she approaches the edge, you move closer to Hugh as you try to swallow your fear.

“Naejot māzīs, Vermitos,” she speaks clearly, and your eyes widen as the Bronze Fury approaches. Nothing could have prepared you for the size of him. Hugh’s hand presses against yours, and fingers furl together as you squeeze him tightly. You both may very well die together today. How the queen’s hand rests on the enormous beast shows how much power she possesses as she demonstrates no fear.

A timid man approaches the great beast, and chaos soon erupts. Flames scorch through the air as people run screaming. Hugh keeps hold of your hand, pulling you behind him and keeping you out of harm’s way. Fire singes your skin and hair, and you wish to scream, but nothing comes out; you just keep moving as your life depends on it, for it truly does. Hugh moves you behind a large rock next to a frightened woman, and you shake as the dragon approaches. Pain pulsates on the back of your neck, and you press your hand there to feel rough, tender skin. You are burned.

The three of you run, with Hugh pushing you toward an opening that leads deeper into the pits as he distracts Vermithor from annihilating the woman. You press against the stone, peering out as you watch the Bronze Fury lower before your Uncle. He has done it; he has done it! A man rushes past you, tripping along the way in terror as he descends toward the opening. You follow after him, taking hold of a torch as you slowly navigate down the rocks. 

“Wait!” you call after him, rushing to keep up with him as screams fill your ears in the aftermath of Vermithor’s destruction. You collide with the back of him as he stands dead in his tracks. “What are you doing?” you hiss and follow his gaze, clamping your hand over your mouth as you spot the great silver beast blending in with the stones of the cave.

The man pushes you away, stumbling about in fear as his booted foot sinks through a slimy mound. The beast lifts its head and crawls closer as you crouch in front of the mound, marveling at the glittering scaled eggs nestled safely inside, unscathed and unarmed. You placed your torch down and cradle one in your hands. You close your eyes and wince as you hear the man’s scream before feeling the heated blast of the dragon’s flame. When you turn, cradling the egg against your chest, you are unsurprised to find his body gone. It’s become all too apparent that dragons prefer to roast their meat before eating.

The dragon’s head tilts in your direction, eyes slowly blinking as it moves closer. If you are to die, you will not do so as a coward, and you remain firmly in place as you lift your gaze upward. 

“Your eggs are safe, it seems,” you murmur, feeling foolish talking to an ancient creature as such, and lift the egg toward the dragon’s muzzle. The golden eyes close as the beast nudges the egg, emitting a low bray.

The dragon’s head lowers before you, sizing you up before letting out a heated breath that nearly shakes you from your spot. Its muzzle presses against your belly, and with a trembling hand, you caress the beast’s curved horns. Your wits slowly return, and you realize this is the dragon your grandmother oft spoke of—the one her mother, Queen Alysanne, rode, Silverwiing.

You return the egg to its safe, albeit semi-destroyed nest and are startled when Silverwing’s muzzle bumps into your back, causing you to shift forward.

“You are certainly playful. Have you been lonely?” you hum, turning to pet her once more as she lowers her body and extends her wing. You take this as an invitation to mount her.

Your laughs ring through the air as you climb onto the dragon’s back, sinking into the saddle and taking hold of the reigns. Power surges through your veins. Silverwing climbs among the rocks before slithering through the cave's opening. You duck your head, and soon, she lifts you into the air. You shake but hold tightly to the reigns as she soars over Dragonstone. You have done it!

Silverwing lands on the beach, and your Uncle rushes to lift you in his arms, twirling you around as he did when you were a small girl. You cling to his neck as tears stream down your face. Your feet barely touch the ground before finding yourself in Addam’s embrace. His hand slips over the back of your neck, and you wince.

“Are you injured?” he asks, concern in his voice.

“Tis but a burn,” you brush off, the pain dulling, but you are sent to the Maester, an ointment applied to the area. It will scar, but it does not bother you. You wear it as a badge of honor.

Celebration rings through Dragonstone, and you indulge in the sweet Arbor gold, having never tasted such a delicious wine before. Minstrels fill the air with music, and you dance with Addam. His lips meld with yours, and time seemingly stands still. His kiss is sweet yet strong, and you enjoy it very much. It makes heat stir deep in your belly. You will invite him into your bed one night when your mind is clearer, but for now, you enjoy the heated kiss and the feeling of his large hands on your waist.

As the days pass on Dragonstone with Prince Jaecaerys and Lady Baela instructing you in dragon riding, you feel caught in a dream. You learn to roll the High Valyrian commands off your tongue with ease. You enjoy taking to the sky with them and Addam, the four of you racing each other. Silverwing is slender and quick and likes to show off. Not that you fault her, she is a beauty hidden away for too long. Knighthood is bestowed upon Addam, and your uncle, and you couldn’t be prouder. You are also provided with crafted armor, coin, and training.

“Congratulations, it is well earned,” you smile at Addam, cupping his face.

“It means if I marry you, you will be a lady,” he grins. That blasted heat is again in your cheeks.

“And do you…wish to marry me?” you whisper, gazing into his dark eyes. Your thumb grazes across the smoothness of his mahogany cheek. He is finer than any prince you imagined in your dreams as a small girl.

“You have held my heart for a while,” he admits.

“I would be happy to marry you when you ask me properly, of course,” you grin, watching a vast smile crack across his face.

Queen Rhaenyra hosts your wedding on Dragonstone. You marry on the beaches, the sand between your toes, with Seasmoke and Silvering circling overhead. Your Uncle pulls you into a tight embrace.

“It seems to me you fulfilled your promise, Uncle. You have helped me to find the very best life,” you whisper as his tears spill onto the shoulder of your violet gown, a gift from the queen you serve loyally.

“We have helped each other, and now we fly on the dragons of our ancestors. We would have made Saera very proud.”

“I am proud of us, Uncle.”

Threats still loom in the distance, but for now, there is peace, and you will play your part in securing the throne for your queen. Your only thought for now is consummating your wedding night with your beloved husband.

[storiesforallfandoms]

looks of a princess ~ eleventh doctor;doctor who

word count: 3736

request?: no

description: after travelling to medieval times, a flirtatious king takes interest in the doctor’s companion, and the doctor is a little jealous

pairing: eleventh doctor x female!reader

warnings: swearing, jealousy, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

“I hate when you don’t tell me where we’re going,” (Y/N) muttered as the TARDIS lurched again. “I always feel like I need to prepare for whatever is going to happen.”

“You don’t need to prepare for anything this time,” the Doctor insisted. “Just let me surprise you, we’ll have fun!”

“Remember last time you said you would surprise me with fun? We ended up surrounded by Daleks and narrowly escaping their attacks.”

The Doctor moved away from the controls and cupped (Y/N)’s face. “This one will be a fun surprise. I promise.”

He kissed the top of her head, then went back to the controls. (Y/N) wanted to argue further, but she knew there was no use. The Doctor had a very different definition of “fun” than most, and it was nearly impossible to convince him when he was wrong. And she had to admit, the Doctor never went looking for trouble. Trouble just found him. Besides all that, it was also just impossible to argue with the Doctor when he was showing her affection, which they were both well aware of.

She braced as the TARDIS began making a noise that indicated they would be landing soon. As usual, the TARDIS landed with a rough thud and would’ve thrown the two of them to the ground if they hadn’t been prepared. The Doctor was smiling his big, goofy smile as he rushed to the door and threw it open with a flourish. (Y/N) looked around him at where they were supposed to be. “A forest?”

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around. “I could’ve swore I had our coordinates to land at the castle.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and looked at him. “Castle?! You were planning to crash land in front of a castle?!”

“Well, I wasn’t planning to crash land. But, the surprise is ruined now, so yes. I brought up back to medieval times so you could see a real castle, and real knights. Maybe even a king or a queen.”

She walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s so sweet, if not a little scary because I’m sure we would’ve been thrown into a dungeon if we crashed that close to the castle.”

The Doctor chuckled and put his arms around her waist. he was pulling her in for a kiss when they both heard something. They paused to listen. It sounded like heavy thumping against the ground, slowly getting louder and closer. They were pulling away from each other just as a group of men in metal suits of amour, some riding horses, broke through the trees and into the clearing where (Y/N) and the Doctor landed.

Knights.

Knights with pointy weapons aimed at them.

The Doctor pulled (Y/N) close to him, protectively. “Gentlemen, we mean no harm.”

“Who are you?” the lead knight demanded.

“I am the Doctor. This is my...associate, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. Years of dating (exactly how many years was still a bit wonky because of timey wimey stuff), and the Doctor was still weird about calling her his girlfriend.

“We’ve come to visit your beautiful land,” the Doctor explained.

“We heard sounds like an explosion,” the knight said, eying the two of them suspiciously.

“That was just...our...carriage?”

The knights shared a look before the lead said, “You’re coming with us to the king.”

Two knights tried to approach to take them, but they assured the knights they’d come willingly. (Y/N) bit her tongue to keep in an “I told you so”. She knew this wasn’t what the Doctor had planned, but it really did just prove her point that there was never an uneventful tried with him.

The two of them were marched to a castle that wasn’t too far from where they had landed. (Y/N) marveled at it as they got closer. It looked exactly like the castles from fairy tales and medieval shows and movies. It was huge with a moat around it. The drawbridge lowered as they got closer, someone obviously watching for their arrival. The group led the two inside, but only three knights ended up bringing them to the king.

He was a younger looking man, surprisingly. (Y/N) was assuming he was going to be an old man, but he was close to her age, and quite handsome. He looked down at them as they approached. When they stopped, he was still watching them, expectantly. It took the Doctor a moment to realize what he was waiting for. “Oh! Bow!”

They moved simultaneously to bow.

“Who are you?” asked the king.

“I am the Doctor, this is (Y/N).”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are a doctor?”

“Well, no. It’s like a...um...a stage name!” The king still looked suspicious. The Doctor turned to (Y/N) as if looking for backup, but she looked just as confused. “We are traveling...magicians. That’s why we have such funny looking clothes, and the loud noise you heard before. We were, um, practicing a trick! Went a bit wrong. We sincerely apologize.”

The king’s gaze turned to (Y/N). His expression seemed to soften greatly when he did, which definitely did not go unnoticed by the Doctor.

“Is this true, my lady?” he asked. “Are you two magicians?”

She nodded quickly.

“We were traveling to see your lovely castle,” the Doctor explained.

The flattery seemed to work, on top of the presence of a beautiful lady, the Doctor was sure.

The king stood from his throne. “It seems there has been a misunderstanding, then. I would like to apologize and offer you both lodgings in the castle for the night.”

The Doctor looked over at (Y/N). Her eyes were shining with excitement at the offer. As much as he wanted to say no and leave, he couldn’t when she looked like that. He plastered on a smile and agreed. The answer delighted the king, who stepped down from his throne to shake their hands. He grasped (Y/N)’s hand very warmly. Even she seemed startled by the gesture.

“My name is King Harold Evergreen,” he said, to both of them but definitely mainly to (Y/N). “I am honored to have you both here.”

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was still marveling at everything hours later. They were shown to the room they would be staying in, which was huge as well. She only got glimpses of the halls and other rooms as they were guided to their room, but King Harold promised an actual tour later on. (Y/N) felt like she was living in a fairytale.

The Doctor, however, was not taken with everything. He had been at first, until they had met the king, and until the king started to show clear interest in (Y/N).

There hadn’t been many times when the Doctor felt such strong feelings of jealousy. Mainly because he never expected for any of his companions to be around for long. Something always happened that made him lose his companions eventually. He always told himself not to get too close or else he’d end up hurt again, and every time he was right. But (Y/N) had stuck around. He let himself get close; he let himself fall in love. And she was still here with him years later.

So, yeah, he didn’t love that a king was taking interest in the woman he loved.

(Y/N) looked over at him. While she was taking it all in, he was sat on the bed with an expression that could only be classified as a pout. She giggled and moved towards the bed. She climbed onto it - literally since the bed was so high up.

“Geez, you could fit, like, ten people in this,” she said. When the Doctor didn’t so much as crack a smile, she poked his side. “Awe, what’s wrong? I thought you wanted to see the castle.”

“I did,” he said. “But now we’ve seen it, and I think we should leave.”

“We can leave in the morning. When will we get the chance to stay in a castle again?”

“We could try again in a few years, when King Harold already has a wife.”

He muttered it, but (Y/N) heard it. An amused smile crossed on her face as she moved closer to him.

“Is someone jealous?” she asked.

The Doctor scoffed. “No, of course not.”

“No, totally. You’re just here literally pouting and being broody because that’s what you do. Of course.” She sat next to him and leaned in so her shoulder was touching his shoulder. “You don’t need to be jealous, you know. We won’t be here for long anyways, and I’m sure his interest in me is just because I am a woman he hasn’t met yet. I’m sure he’s already betrothed to marry someone.”

“Not all kingdoms did betrothals. There were plenty of instances in history where the king was allowed to court whatever woman he wanted and propose to her.”

“Then I’m sure that’s what he’s already done. From what little I know of history, kings his age are supposed to be popping out heirs by now. He probably has a fiancée, and the second we leave he’ll have forgotten about me completely.”

A knock came at the door. (Y/N) got up from the bed and went to open it. Stood there was one of the castle’s maidens with something large in her hands. She curtsied to them both, which caused them to share a look that was a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Hello, lady (Y/N),” the young woman said. “King Harold has requested I bring this to you. He says he would like for you to wear it when you join him for dinner tonight.”

She passed the object she was holding to (Y/N). As (Y/N) took it, she realized it was a dress. A big, poofy, princess looking dress. If the fabric had been blue or yellow, it would have looked exactly like Cinderella or Belle’s dress. Before (Y/N) could ask anything, the maiden had left. (Y/N) nudged the door closed with her foot and turned back to the Doctor, who looked positively fuming.

“He’ll forget about you completely, hm?” he said.

There was no arguing this time. He had sent her a beautiful gown, and made sure she knew he expected to see her at dinner, but there was no mention of the Doctor joining them. Of course, he was going to anyways, but it was hard to ignore the fact that King Harold was making it very clear that while the Doctor was a guest of the castle, (Y/N) was his guest.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) almost refused to wear the dress, but the Doctor convinced her it would be best to put it on.

“You don’t want to offend him in his own castle,” he reminded her.

Upon seeing her in the dress, the Doctor was able to set aside his jealousy for a moment. She looked absolutely beautiful in it; like a princess. Even though she was trying to hide her delight for the sake of the Doctor’s feelings, he could see that she was ecstatic to be wearing something so beautiful.

He took her hands in his and pulled her close to him. “You look wonderful, my love.”

She beamed at him. “Thank you. Do you think we’d be able to sneak this out tomorrow morning?”

The Doctor chuckled and leaned down to kiss her. While he would rather not carry around the reminder of another man trying to woo her, if (Y/N) wanted to keep the dress, he would make sure they kept it.

Another knock came at the door. (Y/N) moved to answer it again, expecting it to be another maiden. She was surprised to see King Harold stood there instead.

“Your highness,” she said, quickly bowing before she could forget herself.

“No need for that,” King Harold told her. “You are here as my guest. No more need for formalities. I just came to see if you got the present I sent for you.” His eyes wandered over her in a way that made the Doctor’s hands curl into fists. “I see I have gotten my answer.”

“Yes, it’s very lovely. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad it fit. We have so much clothes laying around the castle from former kings and queens, I was sure there would be something to fit you.”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide. “This...this belonged to...to a queen?”

“My great grandmother, in fact. The first woman to rule the kingdom on her own. She was near the end of her reign before she met my grandfather, a widower with four children. She married him and took in my grandfather and his siblings.”

It was a lot to process. She was wearing the gown of a former queen. A queen who ruled the country on her own, at a time where that was likely unheard of. She knew the dress had to belong to someone in the castle, but she never even entertained the idea that it belonged to one of King Harold’s ancestors.

She wanted to turn and face the Doctor to share her disbelief with him, but King Harold offered her an arm before she could. “Shall I give you that tour I promised? Dinner will be ready soon, but there is plenty to see between here and the dining hall.”

(Y/N) wasn’t thinking when she accepted the king’s arm. But the Doctor certainly was. He glared at their connected arms as King Harold led (Y/N) from the room. Neither of them had invited the Doctor to come along, but he did anyways. He wasn’t about to leave the two of them alone when it was very clear that King Harold had intentions to make (Y/N) stay in the castle forever.

The king was right in saying there was plenty to see between their room and the dining hall alone. Every hallways was lined with portraits of King Harold’s ancestors. There were official portraits of the rulers themselves, then family portraits of them with their spouses and children. There were many of just the children as well, some looking very professional and some that were obviously painted while the children were at play. King Harold made sure to stop at the pictures of him with his parents.

“I am an only child,” he told (Y/N). “It was very rare. My father had seven siblings himself. And it did not happen due to a lack of trying. Many say that my parents were just not lucky enough to be blessed with a big family.”

There were a number of more health related explanations on the tip of (Y/N)’s tongue, but she knew that was all modern stuff that the king would never understand now.

They finally made it to the dining hall. Just like everything else in the castle, it was a giant room. Probably just as big as the throne room they had been brought into when they first arrived. The table was big enough to seat at least a dozen people, and there was a large stone fireplace set up behind one of the heads of the table - King Harold’s seat, if (Y/N) had to guess. The table was set just for the three of them, with (Y/N) and the Doctor seated across from each other, King Harold in the middle at the head.

I suppose that’s better than being seated on the other end, the Doctor thought to himself.

They took their seats as food was brought into the room. (Y/N) had some struggles to sit, but finally figured out how to arrange the poof of her dress so she could sit comfortably without it being up in her face.

“Are we the only ones dining?” she asked.

“We are the only ones here, besides my staff,” the king responded.

“Your parents aren’t here? Or...or a wife?”

King Harold let out a booming laugh. “No, my parents no longer live here since my father stepped down from being king. That is another rarity, but I would much prefer them to step back and enjoy their older years as opposed to running themselves to death like other rulers usually do. And there is no queen currently. I had yet to pick someone to be my betrothed.”

(Y/N) glanced up at the Doctor. They both noticed King Harold’s choice of word: had.

The meal went on in silence. Or rather, in silence from (Y/N) and the Doctor. King Harold spoke plenty about himself and the history of the land. (Y/N) listened politely, while the Doctor continued to stab at his food.

“Tell me, how does one get into the business of magic?” Harold asked after a while. “It cannot be a profitable line of work for the two of you.”

“Oh...um...” (Y/N) started, trying to come up with a convincible story. “I believe it was the Doctor first who found out he was able to do small tricks. He...well, he met me and I was intrigued enough to follow him in his...journeys.”

The Doctor looked up at (Y/N) and they shared a small smile.

“Yes, but is it truly a fulfilling life?” King Harold asked again.

“I believe so. I have traveled to so many wonderful places that I never would’ve gotten to experience had I not met the Doctor,” (Y/N) said. Quickly she added, “And doing magic, of course. That’s...that’s always...fulfilling.”

“But do you believe you could be happy doing something else? Something more than being the assistant to a traveling magician?”

(Y/N) didn’t like where this was going.

When she didn’t speak, King Harold continued. “See, I have been looking for many years for someone to rule this kingdom by my side. I have met countless princesses and duchesses from other kingdoms, I have met common women from the town, but no one has caught my eye just yet. I am getting to an age where my time to find a wife and to have children of my own is starting to run short, but I am not one to marry just because it is expected of me. I want to marry for love, the way my great grandmother did.”

When King Harold reached for her hand, (Y/N) was too stunned to stop him.

“I believe you would make a perfect queen for this land, my lady,” he said. He started to raise (Y/N)’s hand to his lips when the Doctor suddenly stood, knocking his chair over and the crash putting an end to the moment.

“We’re leaving,” the Doctor said to (Y/N).

“I beg your pardon?” King Harold said.

“I will not stay in this castle for another second and watch you try to proposition my girlfriend.”

“Your what?”

“My love! She is my princess, or queen, or whatever you want to call her.” The Doctor moved around the table to take (Y/N)’s hand and pull her from her seat. “We’re going.”

(Y/N) was nervous that the king would send his guards after them, or at least he would send them after the Doctor and take him away so that King Harold could make her his queen without distraction. To her surprise, he called for someone to show them out. When she looked back at him as they rushed out the door, he seemed genuinely upset for them to go.

The Doctor led (Y/N) through the woods, which had gotten much darker during their time in the castle, and found the TARDIS with ease. He rushed both of them into it and slammed the door behind him. He was muttering to himself, cursing the king and calling him all sorts of names that would’ve gotten his head chopped off if he had said it while they were still in the castle.

After the shock had finally wore off, (Y/N) found control of her body again. She approached the Doctor and put a hand on his shoulder. He instantly fell silent and looked at her.

“I would never say yes,” she said.

“What?”

“To his proposition. I hope you know I would never have said yes to him.”

The Doctor was silent. He looked away from her to face the controls. She realized then that it wasn’t just jealousy that he was feeling.

“Were you worried I would’ve said yes and married him?” she asked.

He didn’t speak at first, but finally he said, “He gave you beautiful clothing, he gave you his undying attention, and he would’ve given you a title that anyone could ever dream of. He could’ve made you a fairytale princess.”

“But he is not you,” (Y/N) said. “Why would I want to spend my life with a man I only just met just because of what physical things he could give me? That is not love. Love is following a man in a bowtie into a police box and letting him take you anywhere in time and space for many years. Love is the willingness to do that again and again and again, because you can’t imagine a life without him anymore.”

There were tears welling up in the Doctor’s eyes. He quickly pulled (Y/N) into an embrace, causing her to laugh as she rested against him.

“I love you,” she said, her voice partially muffled by his tweed jacket.

“I love you, too,” he said.

“And, for the record, maybe you should start calling me your girlfriend when we meet new people. That way they won’t get the wrong idea going forward.”

The Doctor chuckled and pulled away to nod. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

She pulled him in for a kiss.

As they were finally coming down from the high that the trip had brought them, she realized that she was still wearing the dress from King Harold.

“I told you I would figure out a way for you to keep it,” the Doctor said, with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yeah, all it took was you risking life in a medieval prison,” she teased.

“The things we do for love.”

[eloquentlytired]

the knight — a logan howlett fic

pairing: old! logan howlett x plus size! reader

warnings for this fic: age gap, built up tension, eventual smut, reader is over 20, cheating, timetable is set centuries ago (18th-wise maybe) except rotten mindsets/opinions, fatphobia, the royals suck a$$ but who's surprised, themes of violence and blood

summary: you're of the highest noble class and married off to your land’s prince. during your time in the palace and your struggling effort to fit in, you realize that no one is what they claim to be except one man alone. logan howlett, the king’s right hand and best knight, strips himself off every comfort and sworn oath as he accompanies you through the horror of royalty. in the end, your feelings shift and chaos ensues.

Prologue

There was nothing uncommon about a girl of a noble family being forced to marry a man of an even wealthier better status. Except the damn prince. Your parents were delighted and had arranged everything themselves when the question was asked to them. Not to you.

A lady had no say in her marriage after all, unless she was commonly born.

“Maybe he's nice.” Your maid said as she packed your things for tomorrow’s moving. You'd been living in a castle, a castle of all things, alongside your new husband starting tomorrow.

“Maybe he's the worst.” Your voice barely came out as you sat on your bed, fidgeting with your night dress.

Cassandra, your maid and best friend, sat by your side with a reassuring smile. “Well in that case I will have to whoop him once in a while, won't I?”

She knew you like the back of her hand so it was easy to cast light upon your sour mood and expression.

You both gazed at each other and began laughing as you held her.

“I will miss you. I'll try to visit as soon as I can.” You promised her and Cassandra graced you with her signature loving smile.

“May the gods give you everything you wish for.” And to her words, you prayed the same.

The ride to the castle was not bad, just tiring. You did this travel alongside your father who put on his best facade before the queen and king. It felt surreal, and more so anxious, to stand before the most important people of this land.

You bowed before them just like you were taught, with your shaky hands gripping your dress.

“Let me see you.” The queen cooed while gripping your chin harshly. Your image of her immediately shifted from a fairy to whatever monster may look like her.

“Such a beauty, isn't she?” Your father asked before he was rudely interrupted.

“Now now. Adjustments can be made.” The Queen said in a monotonous voice which made your blood freeze within you.

Adjustments?

You didn't dare move as she continued inspecting you under the silence of her husband the King and your father. Her long, thin fingers moved creepily around your face resembling spider legs.

“You’re a full girl but I have just the solution. I too had to drop the cakes you know.” She laughed, then the King laughed then your father. It was a strained sound coming from him, something that was forced for the whole purpose of pleasing his queen, but it still wounded you inside.

You felt thankful when you were quickly dismissed so that your father would discuss the marriage details with the queen and the king.

Your new maid, who didn't seem to be over eighteen, was the sweetest girl ever. She escorted you to your chambers immediately and began sorting out whatever you'd brought along.

“What is your name?” You asked her and you were sad to see her so startled, almost fearful. Were they treating her badly here?

The girl looked at you and spoke with a stutter.

“Ariadne, my princess.” What a pretty name, you thought.

“Well, Ariadne, it's nice to meet you. And please call me by my name, not a formal title.” The girl seemed to ease up slowly when you introduced yourself and looked at her so kindly, almost motherly.

You spent your afternoon being pampered by servants to an overwhelming point. In the bath, when you brushed your hair, when you clothed yourself, even when you were to paint your face with your personal make-up they would not let you do it alone.

“The queen likes red, princess.” Ariadne whispered in your ear when she saw your confused expression. You didn't bother correcting her when she called you by formality. You were too overwhelmed at that moment.

When the preparations were finally done, you turned to the mirror only to find a reflection... unknown.

“You look marvelous, princess.” The maids around you complimented and did some final adjustments to your red dress and makeup. The dress itself was red all over made of expensive fabric. The skirt was high and bouncy around you and the corset beneath was all but allowing you to breath. The corset’s tightness forced your breasts to be pushed into a higher position — they were evidently exposed because of the dress’ low cleavage.

“Perhaps there's something I could wear over this?” You asked but they all looked at you as if you were crazy.

“Her Majesty chose this for you. Said it's most suitable for a girl like you.”

The reply you received from one of the maids made you wonder. What exactly did that mean? In the back of your mind you knew all too well that she was referring to your body but once again you did not speak.

You were with your father, walking around the palace grounds and getting familiar with the gigantic space that overwhelmed you. Your arm was comfortably hooked around his own as you walked.

“How do you find your new home?” He asked with a grin upon his face, one you didn't want to ruin.

“It’s lovely, father.”

Your lack of effort went unnoticed by him per usual.

The sound of commotion startled both of you, making you stare at each other. You pulled away from your father and walked towards the large windows of the castle, gazing down at the courtyard. And then you saw him.

The prince was obvious amongst the many guards that surrounded him, wearing his distinguished cape and a crown smaller than the king's and queen's. He stood proudly upon his horse, blonde hair and blue eyes shimmering but it wasn't enough to draw your attention.

Your father hurriedly marched by your side and spoke. “That’s your husband to be. The most handsome in this kingdom indeed.”

His words barely registered into your mind.

Your gaze was fixated elsewhere as you stared at the royal guard riding beside the prince; a worn out face, an ashy coloured beard and a proudly puffed out chest. He looked like he'd seen better days or that he'd barely smiled in his whole life but even then you couldn't stop staring.

“Yes. The most handsome.” Was all you could say in response to your father as he held your hand and pulled you away from the window.

The prince turned to his right hand, to his most essential and strongest guard.

“Being a prince is a wonderful thing, wouldn't you say sir Howlett?” The prince asked as he addressed the knight by his side.

Logan nodded in response, his years of service having taught him better than to disagree with the hands that fed him.

“That is correct, my prince.”

His eyes glanced at the young boy — a ruler to be. But Logan knew there was no hope for this land and Kingdom; not if this was their future king.

“But being King is more than wonderful. And I intend to experience that glory with you as my protector.” The way those words came out of the prince's mouth was different — cruel and thirsty. Logan had heard that tone before. From men overwhelmed with power that in the end ended up dead.

“Of course, my prince.”

Something alarmed Logan, like a scratch by the ear.

He snapped his head to the left and gazed at the palace’s high windows. There was no one there but he felt his gaze and presence drawn to whatever that area was; the same area that you had walked by with your father.

As he and the guards parted from the prince to enter the stables, he heard whispers that barely intrigued him.

“The new princess, our future queen, has arrived.” His ears picked up many comments — good and bad — but he paid no mind as he took care of his horse.

“Are you not curious to see her, Logan?” One of his fellows in the royal guard asked while the others replied for him.

“He is the prince’s right hand. He will see whether he likes it or not.” The men laughed but Logan busied himself with cleaning after his horse, scrubbing its brown fur silently.

Another knight interfered while slowly retreating from the stables.

“You better tell us if she's worth it!”

Logan gave him a dirty look before resuming his work quietly.

He was just about done caring for his horse when a servant boy approached him, carrying a paper wrapped package in his arms. The boy seemed flushed and out of breath, signaling that he'd been in a hurry.

“Sir Howlett!” The servant boy called and Logan looked at him while wiping his arms with an old rug.

“Spill it,kid.” He mumbled in a tired tone.

“The prince demands your presence in tonight’s dinner.” Logan paused.

“It is Scott’s shift—”

The servant boy cut him off. “H—He said he'll cut off my head if you decline.”

Yes. Those were the moments he hated, the moments he considered rebellion or brutality. But he also knew better than to have an entire royal army chase after him on the crown’s behalf.

“I'll do it. Go home,kid.” He ignored the youthful tears and the repeated thank yous of the servant boy as he ran away. Logan knew how it was, how it felt. He wouldn't say you're welcome for not taking away a life; all of that process was fucked up.

The time for dinner was nearing as Logan dressed himself with a newer, cleaner armor. One that was requested by the prince himself.

Logan stared in the mirror of the confined room he lived in. His reflection was someone unknown.

“Let’s do this.” He whispered gruffly as his hands instinctively wrapped around his sword.

He could feel it in his old bones and the fluttering sensation in his gut. Tonight would make everything shift.

author’s note: hi lovelies. this is so self indulgent ngl 😭 I have somehow already written the first chapter too but I'll post it tomorrow. just felt really inspired all of a sudden. also noticed the reflection parallels with the reader and Logan? I stan! hope u enjoyed and if u like this pls leave a like, reblog and comment!🩷

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 05 Chapter 05 | tension⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Odysseus let his gaze drift across the grand hall, every muscle in his body taut beneath the ragged cloak that disguised him.

His eyes narrowed as he took in each suitor, noting the way they disrespected his home, their laughter cutting through the sanctity of his hall.

These were men who had grown fat and careless on his hospitality, who dared to feast on the resources of his land while vying for the hand of his beloved Penelope; unaware that their gluttony and arrogance would soon face reckoning.

Odysseus watched the suitors, one by one. There was Antinous, smug and sneering, the clear leader in brazenness and disrespect. He sat near the center, barking orders to the servants, his voice grating, his laughter cruel.

Not far from him, Eurymachus leaned back in his chair, his eyes roaming over the maids who moved about the hall, his grin spreading wider every time one of them blushed under his gaze.

But it was the brawny, red-haired suitor, Andros, who drew Odysseus' attention most tonight.

Andros was on his feet, striding towards Penelope, a confident swagger in his step that made Odysseus' fingers curl tightly under the table. Andros' scarred face, a testament to his battles, bore an expression of arrogance as he approached the queen.

"My lady," Andros began, his voice dripping with insincere charm, "you are as radiant as ever tonight. Truly, this palace, these halls—everything feels grander in your presence." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing his words before continuing.

"And of course, you have an array of fine young suitors here, all vying for your hand, each eager to prove himself worthy." He began slowly, the sweetness in his voice almost syrupy as he praised the beauty of the hall, the dignity of Penelope, and the devotion of the gathered men.

Then, the smile on his lips grew strained, and his tone hardened, the false charm giving way to impatience. "But, my queen, surely it is time to stop playing these games? Do you not think, after all this time, that Ithaca deserves a new king? That the kingdom, your people, deserve stability?" He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, but still loud enough for those nearby to hear.

"These delays... they serve no one. Least of all you."

Odysseus felt his anger rise, but he forced himself to keep his composure, swallowing the rage that threatened to boil over. Instead, his gaze shifted down the long table, allowing him a moment to rein in his emotions.

His eyes landed on Telemachus, who sat further down, trapped between two suitors. Telemachus was doing his best to remain civil, nodding curtly at whatever nonsense one of them, Leodes, was muttering.

The young prince's jaw was clenched, his shoulders squared, but Odysseus could see the weariness in his eyes. He could see the strain in his son's expression, the way his jaw tightened when they clapped him on the back or spoke of his mother's need to choose.

Telemachus' hands were clenched under the table, and Odysseus knew that the boy was holding himself back, trying to remain calm in the face of their mockery.

He was tired of this charade—tired of having to entertain these men who disrespected everything his family stood for.

Odysseus' gaze moved again, coming to rest on you, seated on your cushion at the far end of the hall.

You were playing soft tunes on your lyre, your eyes lowered to avoid the wandering gazes of the suitors.

It hadn't escaped Odysseus' attention how often they had approached you tonight, using the guise of speaking with Telemachus as an excuse to stand too close, to linger too long.

The way their eyes lingered on you made Odysseus' blood run cold with fury, but you had handled it with quiet grace, always managing to sidestep their advances, your focus never wavering from your music.

He watched as you adjusted your position, your fingers gracefully plucking at the strings, the gentle melody you played seeming almost out of place amidst the crude laughter and loud conversation.

It was your retreat—your way of coping with the unwelcome attention.

Odysseus clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain still, but his gaze never left Penelope.

He knew every nuance of her expression, every flicker in her eyes. She had always been able to mask her feelings when necessary, but Odysseus could tell what lay beneath that serene exterior.

Penelope smiled at Andros—a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. It was the same composed expression Odysseus had seen countless times, the one she wore when she needed to hide her exhaustion, her irritation, her true thoughts.

To the suitors, it was the smile of a queen; to Odysseus, it was a testament to her resilience.

And despite her age beginning to show, Penelope was still a beauty. Her dark hair, partially veiled, framed her face gracefully, and her eyes—those sharp, clever eyes—were as full of life as ever, though Odysseus could see the weariness she tried to hide.

The years of waiting, the pressure from the suitors, the uncertainty of Odysseus' fate—everything had taken its toll.

Yet, she remained dignified, her posture straight, her expression composed.

He watched as she tilted her head slightly, her smile widening as she looked up at Andros, her voice her voice smooth when she spoke. "I understand your concerns, Andros. Truly, I do. But you must understand... a decision like this cannot be rushed. It is a matter of not just my heart, but of the people of Ithaca. They must have faith in their ruler, whoever he may be."

There was a flicker in her eyes as she paused to adjust the folds of her gown, her gaze never leaving Andros'. Odysseus recognized it—the subtle shift of someone preparing for a move, a small, almost imperceptible signal.

She was not done yet.

"Besides," she added, her voice carrying just a hint of playful reproach, "there is still work to be done. My weaving is not yet complete, and it would be improper to leave it unfinished, don't you agree?"

Odysseus' heart swelled with admiration as she elegantly deflected Andros in a way that left no room to argue without appearing impatient and self-serving.

She had always been a master of this—a weaver not only of thread but of words, her diplomacy a match for his own cunning on the battlefield.

Andros' face twisted in frustration, but he forced a smile, nodding stiffly. "Of course, my lady. As you wish," he said, though his tone made it clear he was far from pleased; he grumbled something under his breath, turning on his heel and retreating to the other end of the hall, his pride clearly wounded.

Odysseus couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

Clever Penelope.

She must have been weaving and unweaving that shroud she'd promised upon his return, using it as a tactic to delay choosing a husband.

It was a brilliant move, one that had kept these men at bay, if only barely.

Odysseus cleared his throat, drawing Penelope's attention for just a moment. He nodded subtly, his eyes filled with admiration. "A true queen knows how to manage her duties wisely," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.

Penelope glanced at him, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments. She smiled—a genuine, soft smile that held a glimmer of gratitude. "Thank you, good sir."

She was too clever not to sense something beneath his words.

Before any more could be said, the head servant stepped forward, clapping his hands to gain the attention of the room. "Honored guests," he called, his voice loud enough to carry over the noise, "we have a special treat for you tonight. A storyteller has arrived to regale us with tales of old. Please, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the story."

Odysseus shifted his gaze from Penelope to the gathered suitors, watching their interest shift with the promise of entertainment. The momentary tension diffused, but the underlying stakes remained, clear and unspoken between him and Penelope.

He settled back, the tension in his shoulders easing only slightly. The time for reckoning would come, but for now, Penelope had bought them a few more precious hours.

And for that, he was endlessly grateful.

Penelope then rose gracefully from her seat, her movements fluid despite the heaviness of her role. She addressed the suitors, her voice warm yet distant. "Please, enjoy yourselves," she said, her gaze sweeping over the gathered men. "I shall take my leave now. May the story bring you joy and reflection."

She turned then, her eyes finding you. "Come, dear," she called softly, beckoning you to follow.

You rose from your cushion, gathering your lyre, and moved towards her.

Telemachus appeared at your side, his expression gentle as he offered to take the instrument from you. "I'll put it in your room," he said, his voice low.

You nodded, offering him a grateful smile.

As Penelope left the hall, you followed closely behind, Telemachus walking beside you. The suitors began to settle down, their laughter quieting as they prepared to listen to the storyteller.

A few torches were extinguished, casting the room in a dimmer, more intimate light, the flickering flames creating shadows that danced along the walls.

The storyteller, an older man with a voice like honeyed wine, began his tale—a story of Perseus and his quest to slay the Gorgon Medusa. His voice wove through the room, captivating the suitors, their attention fixed on him as he painted vivid pictures with his words.

"In the days when gods still walked among mortals, there was a hero named Perseus," he began, his voice deep and rhythmic. "Born of Zeus, he was destined for greatness. The king, jealous of his mother's beauty, sought to rid himself of Perseus by sending him on an impossible quest—to bring back the head of the dreaded Gorgon, Medusa..."

A bit into the story, you slipped quietly back into the hall, your steps light and careful as you approached Odysseus. You knelt beside him, your voice barely a whisper as you leaned in. "The queen requests your presence for a private conversation," you murmured, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

Odysseus nodded, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing Penelope away from the prying eyes of the suitors.

As he began to rise, he paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—a depth of understanding, a quiet gratitude. He gave you a subtle nod, and though no words passed between you, you understood the meaning behind his expression.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice rough from emotion, but his eyes softened—a fleeting but genuine acknowledgment of your loyalty, of the way you had quietly supported his family in their most trying times.

You nodded back, your heart pounding from the weight of this unexpected acknowledgment. With a small, reassuring smile, you gestured for him to follow, and he rose, moving carefully to avoid drawing too much attention.

As the disguised king followed you out of the hall, a sense of hope stirred within him.

The time for reckoning was drawing near, and he would be ready.

☆

☆

Shutting the door behind you, you leaned against it, letting out a slow breath, your mind still racing from everything that had just transpired. The hall was dim, lit only by the moonlight filtering through a narrow window, casting pale streaks across the stone floor.

You barely had time to collect yourself when Telemachus appeared from around the corner. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, his expression softening with relief.

You stepped forward, whispering a bit excitedly, "Your mother is currently speaking with 'Aethon.'" You made air quotes as you said the name, a knowing look in your eyes.

Telemachus's face broke into a boyish grin, his eyes shining with happiness and hope. Without thinking, he reached forward, grasping both of your hands in his. "She's with him? Truly? I've longed for this day," he said, his voice filled with raw emotion. "I've prayed to the gods for this—prayed that he would return to us."

The excitement that had been coursing through you settled, and for a moment, you both stood there, realizing just how close you were.

Telemachus cleared his throat, his face flushing slightly as he took a step back, though he didn't release your hands, letting them hang between you.

You cleared your own throat, your face heating up as you tried to fight through the embarrassment. You forced yourself to look at him, even though every instinct urged you to look away. "What... what do you think will happen next?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Telemachus' brow furrowed slightly, his lips pressing together as he seemed to consider your question. He hummed thoughtfully before speaking, "I'm not sure," he admitted, his voice softening. "Father will be king once more, so I suppose that leaves me to prepare—learning the ropes to one day take his place." He shrugged, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips.

Before either of you could say more, you heard Penelope's faint voice calling for you. "____."

You quickly turned, your heart skipping a beat as you realized you were needed. With a final glance at Telemachus, you hurried towards the room where the queen awaited.

As you stepped inside, you found Penelope seated across from Odysseus—'Aethon'—the two of them bathed in the soft glow of the flickering torches. There was a gentleness to the scene, an almost untensed, elated expression on the queen's face as she looked at the man before her.

Penelope's gaze shifted to you, her smile warm as she spoke. "Would you please fetch some water? I believe Aethon could use a bath," she said, her tone kind but carrying an air of authority.

You bowed your head respectfully. "Of course, my queen," you replied, your voice steady, though your heart was still fluttering from the earlier conversation.

Before you could turn to leave, Telemachus suddenly appeared in the doorway, his expression slightly awkward as he scratched the back of his neck. "Mother, if I may," he began, his voice a bit rushed. "Could Nurse Eurycleia tend to Aethon instead? I'll be dealing with the suitors soon, and I could use—well, I could use her help."

Penelope blinked, her brow arching in mild confusion at her son's apperance. There was a hint of humor in her eyes as she slowly nodded. "Of course, Telemachus," she said, her lips twitching up into a small smile. She turned back to you, her gaze softening. "Please fetch Eurycleia, dear."

You nodded, quickly excusing yourself to complete the task.

Telemachus was right by your side as the both of you made your way back to the dining halls. He stopped a passing servant, relaying the queen's orders for Eurycleia, ensuring she knew where she was needed before continuing with you.

When you both arrived, the scene had shifted; the storyteller had departed, and the dining hall had taken on a different air.

Torches were being relit, their flames flickering back to life, casting long shadows across the grand room.

The table was in disarray, the remnants of the feast scattered across the surface. Bowls that had once held fresh fruits were now empty, their contents devoured, and goblets lay tipped on their sides, spilling the last traces of wine.

Servants moved quickly to clean up, their hands deftly collecting the mess, while the suitors lounged heavily in their seats, many of them still indulging in wine, their laughter and voices echoing through the room.

Antinous' drunken voice suddenly rang out, slurred but commanding. "Telemachus!" he called, his words dragging slightly.

He pushed away another suitor roughly as he stood, his steps unsteady. His clothes were crumpled, the once fine fabric now stained, and his blue eyes hazy as he downed another gulp of wine. A few drops trailed down his chin, unheeded.

He moved closer, his breath heavy with the sour scent of drink. Raising his goblet again, he swallowed another mouthful, his lips curling into a sneer. "Your mother," he began, his voice harsh, "she should choose. Tonight. Enough of these games."

Telemachus tried to placate him, his tone gentle. "Antinous, now isn't the time. She's—"

But Antinous cut him off, his snarl deepening. "Twenty years!" he spat, his voice thick with frustration. "We've waited twenty years. Many of us grew up hearing tales of the widowed queen of Ithaca. We've seen hundreds of suitors come and go, all left empty-handed. And now? We have nothing but that damned shroud she always weaving." His face flushed a deeper shade of red, the anger twisting his features until his once handsome face seemed almost ugly.

He took another unsteady step closer, his eyes locking onto Telemachus' with a fierce intensity. "She must choose, boy. We won't wait any longer. The patience of everyone here has run thin. It's time she makes her decision, and it's time for Ithaca to have a new king."

Before Telemachus could even attempt to calm him once again, the other suitors drunkenly joined in, their voices melding into a cacophony of garbled shouts, all demanding that Penelope choose.

"Enough of this waiting!"

"She must make her choice now!"

"We've had enough of her tricks!"

The noise grew overwhelming, the suitors crowding closer, their faces flushed with drink and impatience.

Your heart began to race, the chaotic shouts and the looming bodies making it difficult to breathe. You felt the walls of the dining hall pressing in, the weight of the drunken mob becoming unbearable. The suitors' demands echoed in your ears, their voices blending into a thunderous roar that drowned out all reason.

Suddenly, you felt Telemachus step in front of you, his body shielding yours from the advancing crowd. His arm moved behind him, his hand finding yours and holding it firmly.

You clung to him, pressed against his side, the solidness of his presence the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the chaos.

Telemachus could feel the sweat on his palms, the nervous tremble in his grip as his fingers curled tighter around yours; he glanced back at you for just a moment, catching the fear in your eyes, and he felt something inside him snap—a determination, a need to protect you, stronger than his own anxiety.

Telemachus shouted above the noise, his voice carrying a note of desperation. "Please, just calm down!" but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The suitors were too far gone, too consumed by their own frustration and the haze of wine.

His free hand clenched into a fist at his side, nails biting into his palm as he struggled to keep his composure. He knew he couldn't show any weakness.

Not here, not now.

"Enough!"

The shout cut through the noise like a blade, the authority in the voice silencing the room instantly. The suitors froze, their heads snapping toward the source of the command.

At the entrance of the hall stood Queen Penelope, her posture regal and unyielding, her expression one of fierce determination. A few steps behind her stood Odysseus, still disguised as the beggar Aethon, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene.

Penelope's gaze swept across the suitors, her eyes cold and unforgiving. She held herself with a dignity that seemed to grow more luminous in the flickering torchlight, her presence commanding the attention of every man in the room.

"These demands are unbecoming," she said, her voice calm but edged with steel. "You forget yourselves and the courtesy owed to this house." She paused, her eyes locking onto Antinous, who had the sense to bow his head, though his jaw remained clenched.

Penelope continued, her tone softening slightly, though it lost none of its strength. "I see that you will not be satisfied until I make my decision. Very well. Tomorrow, as soon as Helios crosses the sky, I shall hold a contest. The man who can string Odysseus' great bow and shoot an arrow through twelve axe heads shall have my hand in marriage."

She let the silence hang for a moment, her eyes scanning the room before continuing, her voice now laced with authority. "It is only right that the one strong enough to succeed in this great feat, one that only my husband could accomplish, should be deemed worthy to take his place. Consider this the final test—to determine who, among you, is truly deserving of Ithaca's throne."

A murmur ran through the suitors, their frustration giving way to excitement at the prospect of a resolution.

Antinous, along with several others, nodded in agreement, finally placated by her words.

Slowly, the suitors began to disperse, their drunken grumbling fading as they made their way out of the hall, satisfied for the time being. The tension in the room began to ease, the oppressive weight lifting as the crowd thinned.

Penelope let out a long, quiet sigh, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment. She looked weary, the weight of the years and the evening's events heavy on her shoulders. But then she straightened, her head lifting once more, her eyes clear as they found you.

"Come, ____" she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I'm ready for bed."

As Penelope moved closer to Telemachus, she paused, her expression softening. She reached up, her fingers brushing against his cheek in a tender gesture. "Goodnight, my son," she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and love.

Telemachus leaned into her touch for a brief moment, his eyes closing as he nodded. "Goodnight, Mother," he replied softly.

Penelope then turned her gaze to Odysseus, her expression guarded but polite. She gave him a nod, her voice carrying a hint of formality. "May you rest well, Aethon."

Odysseus bowed his head slightly, his eyes holding hers for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Thank you, my lady."

With that, Penelope turned on her heel, her steps graceful as she made her way out of the hall.

Telemachus gave your hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer. You gave him a small, reassuring smile, bowing your head slightly.

"Goodnight, Prince Telemachus," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile. "Goodnight, ____" he replied.

With a final glance at both the prince and the disguised king, you turned and hurried after Penelope, your footsteps quiet against the stone floor.

The hall behind you grew silent, the echoes of the evening's events lingering in the air.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

The contest would begin, and with it, the fate of Ithaca would be decided.

A/N: if y'all can't tell i'm shamlessly plugging in my wish of finding a boyfriend through telemachus 😩😔. also, sorry for the spammed updates, lolol i'm excited to start getting into the juicy stuff; also, to answer a question or two, no worries the gods are popping up, i'm just playing it close to gods being as a bit more removed from everyday mortal affairs, sometimes communicating through dreams, omens, or indirect interventions, rather than physically "walking among mortals" as they did in earlier myths like Perseus' or Hercules, so that's why you don't see Apollo walking down the courtyard, loll. (but i understand if this pacing is too slow 😭)

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐕

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, sexual content, no actual smut, again, Daemon is violent

Taglist: @faesspace

>Jacaerys had come to terms with his status as a bastard, even though it was never to be said out loud

>Laenor was still his father, even if not biologically, he was the men he called "dada" with his first words, and it would remain that way for the rest of his life

>This made him closer to you, your situation was different, as everybody knew you were a bastard, and you were not to inherit anything

>He felt like he had to prove people wrong about him, so he overexerted himself. There was little you could do to stop him, so you contented with staying by his side in the library, late at night, falling asleep to his voice practicing high valyrian

>In these nights, you likely had little Aegon or Viserys on your lap, because they'd cry until they were put to sleep only by your or their mother

>Jacaerys would revel in this image, you peacefully asleep, holding babes, your silver hair caressing your cheeks

>He could sometimes allow himself to imagine what if the children you were holding were his, if you could be his queen. If he could kiss you and rut against you, if he could suck your nipples until milk would come out

>But he was always quick to dismiss these ideas, you were forbidden fruit, and the last thing a bastard king needs, is a bastard queen. His mother had gone through hell and back to uphold his claim to the iron throne, and he would not disappoint her, no matter how desperately he needed you

>And even though, he was ashamed to admit it, he was scared of his step-father. There was one specific memory he would always go back to

>He was a young man, maybe a little older than you. And he had come to Dragonstone while you were in King's Landing with Rhaenyra. He had come bearing expensive gifts and displaying a beautiful crimson doublet with embroidery details in gold and plum

>He had spoken flowery promises of old alliances of his house with the conqueror, and Daemon's face was reflecting his achingly strong boredom and weariness, demanding him he speak whatever idiotic trade he had in mind. That's when the lord said he'd be "most delighted" to present himself as a suitor for lady Y/N. Daemon didn't respond, he let the awkward silence seat, he let him marinate in anxiety. He then took his dark sister and cut the poor boy's head off. He told his guard he'd be spared if he returned to tell the tale, that no one should try to approach his firstborn daughter.

>"Nobody likes a peeping Tom" he shouted to Jacaerys, who was hidden watching the scene

>He still sometimes thinks of how easily his head fell off his neck, how quickly it did

>So he knew Y/N couldn't be his, not now not ever. But he still hated to know there was one person that Daemon could not scare off

>Jacaerys felt lucky he could see your metamorphosis from a girl to a maiden in a first row seat, but this change meant that one day you'd leave, and he'd have to get a wife, a proper wife for a king

>But that person that was not scared of Daemon, also didn't have that problem. He was talking about Daeron Targaryen

>Despite the collective best efforts of the Velaryon brothers, you still talked to Daeron regularly, fortunately, not as much now that he was in Oldtown, but still too much for their liking

>Lucerys did not realize the puppy crush he had on you, thinking he just saw you as his older sister, but he was on board with anything that meant sabotaging your possible paramours

>So they were incredibly frustrated when they all had to travel to King's Landing, and Daeron was going to be there

>Lucerys used Daeron's presence to distract himself from the fact that his grandsire could die, and that that was the real reason why they were there, for him to inherit Driftmark

>This was the first time in years you'd actually spend time with Aemond, as you would avoid him everytime you visited

>Dagahrion was too large for the dragon pit, so he stays in a cave in Aegon's hill

>Alicent ran to hug you, Rhaenyra stood there, silently judging her

>When you went to see your uncle Viserys, it was heartbreaking, he called for you, and you kneeled at the edge of his face, so he could see you clearly. It took him some time to recognize you

>"Y/N... She's nothing but an infant, I know she must be playing, but I'd like to see her"

>You patiently explained, until he could remember you, you saw a lonely tear when the realization of your age, and the pass of time had hit him

>You got into an argument with your father when he accused Alicent

>"Can't you see she just wants to have your trust to whore you out to his depraved sons?!"

>"Are you one to talk about depravity, father?!" You shouted, offended and angry at him

>"I am one to talk because I know exactly what goes through the heads of men like that, and I know exactly the type of woman that bitch is"

>"What are you scared of? That someone might treat me like you did my mother?!" You are a dragon, and you spit fire. Your father goes quiet, not out of shame, but out of astonishment. He had waited so much time to see himself in you, he thought that your lack of ill intentions was what made you perfect, but it was not. Daemon would enjoy seeing more of this, after all, it would be laughable if an innocent, irreproachable maiden rode a dragon like yours

>Daemon smiled at you and left the room, leaving puzzled and embarrassed at your words

>Rhaenys and the twins were second to greet you, your sisters had missed you so dearly

>They excitedly spoke of all that happened, and how much they missed being with you, you spent an hour in the gardens before you were interrupted, to go to Lucerys' hearing

>After catching up, Rhaenys left you to have "girl time" with them, they hugged you once again, and you could swear Rhaena left a kiss on your collarbone, and Baela's hands wondered a little too low from your back to your tailbone

>The announcement of the marriages had complicated reactions, you could see it, but you were glad the family would remain together, strong

>You hugged Lucerys when Vaemond yelled for all the realm to hear of his accusations, and you saw your father smiling at you and Rhaenyra once he had sliced Vaemond Velaryon in half

>During dinner, you sat between Jacaerys and Baela

>You were pleased to share a table with your family, it had been so long since you last did

>Aegon's unsavory comments made you cringe, but you sweetly smiled when Jace and Baela defended you, Alicent and Daemon were glaring daggers at him

>When it was time for the toasts, you looked at Helaena with sadness, thinking of how miserable Aegon had made her

>You toasted to your uncle Viserys, Viserys the peaceful, who had earned his title as protector of the realm

>Aemond kept looking at you, you could not decipher his expression, what he wanted from you

>You danced with Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena then joined, with her pentoshi grace and coquettish moves, she had always loved dancing the most out of you three

>The tone completely changed once Aemond decided to toast to his nephews, the three strong boys

>Before Jace could go to punch him, you spoke up

>"Say what you mean, cousin" you taunted

>"It was but merely a compliment, don't you believe your step brothers to be strong?'

>"I believe my king ordered to cut off the tongue of everyone who would insinuate or reference the foul rumors spoken against your future queen and king"

>"That was the day I lost my eye, was it not, dear cousin?" He spoke with a voice that made you want to recoil, it was frankly disgusting

>"It was, if I were you I wouldn't want to become Aemond One Eye and no tongue" you could almost feel your father's approval as you spoke poison

>With all the noise and stress, you felt your knees start to fail, you could see Daeron was holding you

>Aemond walked towards you before being stopped by a punch from Jacaerys

>After seeing Jace come to you, you blacked out

>Of course your fainting was attributed to being a young maiden in the presence of violence, but you knew something was strange

>Though it ended in a bitter note, you knew your spell was beyond psychological, you felt sick, maybe it was the food

>The maesters said you were not fit for travel, nor boat less dragonback

>Daemon refused to leave you on King's Landing, trying to sneak your asleep body out of the castle to take you with him on top of Caraxes, but he was discovered

>When he inevitably had to go, he left you in Misarya's care, had you wake up and be unable to travel back to your family, she would be rewarded handsomely to take you to Dragonstone

>The night prince Daemon left, was the night Viserys the peaceful, first if his name, died