#they both had unrealistic expectations from their lord fathers

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Hey guys what if Lucinda×Nicole? How do we feel about that?

[biffhofosho]

Prisoner to Temptation | Chapter Eight

Word Count: 11.3k

A/N: >.>

Your Honor, I’m in love with jealous Hyungwon. 

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12

Right on schedule, the princess’s monthlies came, and as it always did in a palace, news traveled quickly when other people did the laundry. Whispers trailed behind her down every corridor like a veil of her failure.

“She’s not that young.”

“And she’s only getting older.”

“Poor Prince Hyungwon. We should go to him.”

“Somebody has to.”

Naran kept her chin up. They were being ridiculous. It was unrealistic to expect results so soon. They were just jealous. Or bored. Or both.

She could think of a thousand reasons why everyone wanted to bring her down, but the truth was, none of that mattered. A princess had one job, and she had not accomplished it. It wasn’t like Naran was in a hurry to be a mother, but it also meant that certain expectations still had to be met this coming month.

For his part, the prince said nothing of the talk of the palace. He showed up at her door one night seemingly none the wiser, and with how needy she always felt around her monthlies, Naran nearly invited him in. In the end though, she begged him to postpone their visit until later in the week and spent a very restless night staring at the ceiling instead. For the next few days, the princess managed as much time away from the prince as she could because she simply didn’t trust herself around his pretty face and his witty conversation.

But if the sexual moratorium had taught Naran anything, it was that without Prince Hyungwon’s special attention, life in the palace wasn’t just frustrating—it was dull. She had always known she was not cut out for the role of princess, but actually having to fulfill the public duties of her position could not have been more tedious. Without an outlet, she felt like a lightning bolt ready to charge at the easiest target.

That very morning, she found herself outside her husband’s door, hoping for the grace to ask for some of his time that night without sounding as desperate as she was, only to be startled by his voice behind her.

“Looking for me?”

“My lord!”

Hyungwon smiled with his head cocked to the side as though he were studying a never-before-seen creature.

“Yes—no! I was just going to check your schedule today—to make sure you didn’t mind if I took a ride out in the pasture.”

“When have I ever minded that?”

Naran narrowed her eyes at his amused tone. “Okay then. I guess it won’t be a problem…”

“Nope.” He was still smiling, and the princess was growing more frustrated by the second. “Is that all, my lady?”

“I—”

Just then, Hansol entered the sitting room but stopped when he found the couple huddled near the prince’s door. With a deep bow, he said, “Pardon me, Your Highnesses. I just wanted to see if you needed any help with your trunks, Your Grace.”

“Trunks?” Naran asked, looking back to her husband.

Hyungwon nodded sheepishly. “Father demands I call on my uncle in Jemulpo, but I shall be back in three nights’ time.”

“Three nights?”

The words echoed in the cavern of the room. Just the thought made her heart sink to the soles of her feet. She was already overwrought, and now she had no outlet for at least three more nights?

“You weren’t going to tell me?” the princess pouted.

“That’s why I’m here. My father just received the request from my uncle, so I am to leave at once. I wanted to go as fast as possible if only to get back all the quicker. I do not like being away from home.” Hyungwon stared at her then, his bottom lip finding its way further under his teeth with each passing second. “Did you need something before I go?”

With a heavy sigh, Naran shook her head. “It can wait, my lord. I hope you have an easy trip.”

The prince sighed, too, but bowed all the same. When he came back up, he stole a kiss of her cheek and whispered, “Wait for me until then.”

Naran didn’t stand around to watch her husband pack. She was anxious enough as it were. Watching him toss things around in his room instead of tossing her around would have been too maddening. Instead, she lived up to her lie and took a long ride on her horse out to the edge of the pastures and then completed an even longer route around the rim of the property. She had hoped she would come back to the palace exhausted, and she did—just not the way she needed.

It all would have been so much easier if the prince were not a talented lover, but since he was, it made it incredibly difficult for Naran to find satisfaction elsewhere. Her tried-and-true methods of self-pleasure were failing. Every time she came close to release, it eluded her, which had never been a problem before. She simply could not bring herself over the edge, and it was spilling over into her days, too.

She was snippy with the empress, snippier yet with the servants, especially with the male ones. Even if the notion to dally with one of them struck her, the moment Naran looked into their eyes, the mood soured. They would be eager to please, she had no doubt, and more than a few of them were probably up to the task, but the thought of having her time wasted on the ones who couldn’t keep up squashed the inclination. She already knew someone capable of doing a proper job, and he was leagues away at the moment.

It was on the fourth day of frustrations that Naran sat with Magda in the tea lounge, silently drowning her sorrows into a cup of jujube tea before another servant came in with a tray with a letter on it. At this, the princess sat up straight.

“Word from the Prince?” she asked.

The servant, a slender thing with a bright white face like a peony but eyes like daggers, bowed and said, “No, Your Grace. I believe the courier said it is a letter from your family.”

Normally, that would have perked the princess right up, but instead, she slumped a bit into her chair as she opened the envelope to read it while Magda looked on, sipping her own tea.

The letter turned out to be from Saran, just an update from the road home as they journeyed back through the Goryeon mountains. It was full of her sister’s teenage fantasies about being swept away by lonely mountain gods or bandits who would have a change of heart as soon as their eyes fell on her. It would have been charming if the images hadn’t been obviously colored with shades of the royal wedding the girl had just attended. Naran had a sinking feeling now that her sister would marry the first suitor she met when she came of age and make an ill-fated match because of it.

And of course, the end of the letter spent over a paragraph sending love to her “new brother” and entreating his promise to take “very good care” of her big sister. It should have been sweet. Instead, it chafed.

Naran dropped the letter onto the table and shifted her gaze down the hallway to watch the busy palace staff go about their mornings.

“Everything all right with Their Majesties?” Magda asked at length.

The princess shrugged a shoulder. “So Saran says. The trip has been easy, I guess.”

Naran returned her attention to her tea, watching the way the little dried fruit bobbed at the bottom of the cup without a care in the world.

“Your Grace!”

Her head shot up to find her old friend’s eyes wide to the whites. Naran frowned. “What is so urgent?”

“I’ve been talking to you for over a minute. Did you not hear me?”

The princess pursed her lips. “I did not.”

At the lady’s admission, Magda smirked. “I was talking of His Highness, Prince Hyungwon. It should be good to see him again, wouldn’t you say? I find the palace rather quiet without him.”

“Not that he says much to begin with,” Naran deflected.

“I must be honest. I have been a bit surprised at how much time you have spent with Prince Hyungwon since we’ve arrived considering all the blustering you did on the way here.”

“You’re exaggerating,” the princess admonished with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve avoided him wherever possible.”

“I think you’ve spent far more time together than you realize, My Lady.”

“And who else shall I spend it with, hm? I only know you and him, Magda.”

The attendant brought her tea to her lips and took a long sip. When she pulled it back, she was smiling with the same wan curve as her cup. “I don’t just mean during the day.”

Naran felt itchy under the collar of her hanbok.

“Now, I know you’re exaggerating just to annoy me. It’s only been twice. And a half,” she mumbled as an afterthought. “Besides, we are still newlyweds. Expectations are high, and I still need to prove my worth to the emperor. And anyway, it’s getting colder at night, so, naturally, it’s easier to stay warmer. Plus—”

Magda’s smile broadened.

“Oh, what?” snapped the princess.

“Nothing. It’s just, I made a simple observation. You seem to be mounting several arguments on why it’s been twice. And a half.”

Magda was vibrating with laughter and Naran growled. “I should have left you in Urga.”

“Either way, My Lady, might I make a suggestion?”

The princess cocked her head as she listened.

“I think you should find some little way to make a positive impression with the servants here,” said Magda.

“How do you mean? Hansol and I get along very well already.”

The older woman shook her head lightly. “No, Your Highness, I mean the other ladies of the palace. There have been… rumblings of late.”

“Rumblings?”

Magda’s face tightened a bit, and with it, a little pinkness capped her warm tan. “It seems more than a few of the serving lasses have remarked on a strong change in the Prince’s interactions with them.”

“How do you mean? Is he scolding them?”

“No, My Lady. I know you know perfectly well what I mean.”

Naran’s heart thundered in her throat. Sex. She meant sex. For a moment, the princess had the awful urge to run out of the room with her fingers in her ears, but she soldiered on. Her voice shook as she asked, “Is he being too aggressive with them then?”

“No. No. It seems he does not pay them much attention these days, and it has caused some… resentment, particularly toward Her Ladyship.”

“Oh.” Naran bit her lip as she tried to hide the creep of a smile. “Oh?”

“You should be more concerned about this, My Lady.”

“It is the prince’s choice with whom he elects to spend his time. We have an agreement he can do what he wants with whomever he wants,” said the princess, though she found it a bit tougher these days to say that and mean it.

“These women are the ones charged with taking care of you, Your Highness. If you don’t nip this in the bud, these sorts of things can get out of control.”

Naran scowled then, her sudden burst of good mood thoroughly rained upon. “Well, what do you suggest, Magda? Shall I check out my husband to them like a library book?”

Now, it was Magda’s turn to scowl. “I said nothing of the sort, and I will thank you not to be crass with me. I suggest you build some rapport with them. Do not make yourself any more of a threat than you already are. Treat them to something nice or spend some time with them.”

Naran rolled her eyes. “This all sounds like work.”

“You are a princess, are you not? That title sounds like a job to me after all.”

“I hate when you’re right.”

“You mean always?” Magda retorted.

As much as it chapped that Naran was being asked to coddle her husband’s paramours, it did beat having her food spat in or other such petty sabotages—or, worse, having her staff actually prey on her husband behind her back.

With nothing else to occupy her overworked mind and no word on the prince’s anticipated return, the princess made it her mission to invite a few of her most vocal dissidents to dine with her in the Secret Garden, which servants rarely had permission to see. Needless to say, the serving lasses were floored by the invitation, but being a request from the Princess Supreme herself made it impossible to turn it down.

They made a sweet table in one of the pavilions next to the stream. The music of the water was already romantic, especially when leaves drifted down to become boats on the current, but Magda, to her brilliant credit, had primed the atmosphere with even more romance thanks to the devious addition of an all-male waitstaff comprised of the most handsome servants the palace had to offer. If the ladies weren’t already pink-cheeked from the dashing faces waiting on them, the cups of wine ensured it.

By second course, the lasses were willing to laugh at anything the princess said. Gone was any potential resentment as Naran called for treat after treat and glass after glass, and eager-to-please men came to flirt with the chatty women. Everything was going exactly to plan.

For a while.

Naran and one of the long-haired, easy-smiling servers were mid-passionate argument over who was the better rider, his friend in the Royal Guards or her, when all her progress was chucked right into the creek.

“Princess.”

Everyone’s heads snapped toward the pavilion entrance to find Prince Hyungwon standing rigid and narrow-eyed. The spells the ladies had been under broke the instant their eyes fell onto his stunning face, flushed with the exercise from climbing the hill, and the other men were forgotten in an instant. It was impossible to deny the way even the princess’s own body reacted to the sight of him.

The server Naran had been arguing with leapt to attention, practically breaking his back when he jerked up from his cool lean on the banister. Everyone but the princess bowed to the prince while she let out a defeated sigh. So much for defending her role…

“What can we do for you, your grace?” Naran simpered.

“You are needed back at the palace at once.”

His voice was cold, and it prompted her tongue to prod at the inside of her cheek. “We have almost finished with our picnic—”

“I said ‘at once,’” Hyungwon repeated. His gaze flicked to the server over her shoulder and then back to her face.

Naran’s eye twitched. It felt very much like a standoff, but if she abandoned the ladies so quickly, they could resent her again, and if she balked at the prince’s authority, she would undermine him. Heaven and earth, she was tired of politics. It was moments like these that she most missed her freedom to simply charge to the stables and ride off into the steppe until her temper had cooled.

The princess took a sip of wine and let out a long breath. “Very well, my lord. Let us finish up this course as it is nearly over. The chefs did take an awful lot of time and expense to treat our staff so well today, wouldn’t you agree?”

Hyungwon was quiet. She could see the storm in his eyes even from her seat on the floor, but he nodded all the same.

“You are welcome to return—”

“I shall wait,” he asserted and took up a post across from the entrance, propping himself on a large rock and watching his wife’s every move.

Naran dug her nails into the skirt of her coat as she did her damnedest to avoid his gaze, but it was next to impossible when he sported his burgundy dallryung, for his dark features and warm skin always looked most striking contrasted in rich reds.

Gritting her teeth, she said to her audience, “Eat up, my dear ladies. Our picnic might have come to an end sooner than expected, but let us not let these delights go to waste.”

The serving lasses obliged, but conversation had come to a standstill and all the heart was out of the party. Whatever goodwill Naran had built washed downstream, especially when she rose and headed over to her husband, who insisted on offering his arm for their walk back to the palace.

“You ruined everything, you know,” she hissed as they walked, tethered to one another, back down the hillside.

“I could see that…” he said tightly. “Why are you eating with servants anyway?”

“Because of you, sire.”

Hyungwon glared at her then, but Naran met it back.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Evidently, you haven’t been… visiting your regulars, and grudges are forming.”

“Ah… Oh.” The prince’s lips pursed as his ears reddened.

“Yes, oh. This was my attempt to get back into their good graces, by offering other options, you see?”

At this, however, his eyes snapped to hers. “For them or for you?”

Naran glowered at him. “We’ve talked about this, my lord, remember?”

“I’ve only been gone three nights. Did you really feel the need to move on so urgently?”

“I—” the princess was stunned by what she could only call hurt etched into the corners of the prince’s eyes. But all too soon, it gave way to indignance. “You have no right to complain. After all, I was only cleaning up the mess you left me. Now, why am I being summoned in the middle of an event I put on?”

Judging by his grip on her arm, Hyungwon did not appreciate the shift in discussion, but he answered, “The palace has received some unexpected guests, and as my father and mother are still detained in town by the Ministers, we are obligated to host them for the evening.”

“Obligations, obligations. I’m sick of that word,” Naran griped. “I was already hosting something.”

“Well, now, you can host two things, only this one will include your husband.”

“I didn’t want to include you.”

Hyungwon pulled her to a stop then underneath a thick cluster of trees. The leaves were starting to redden at their tips, leaving the shadows more vibrant than usual as he pushed her back to the edge of the path where they were less likely to be seen arguing.

“That is painfully obvious,” he said. “Honestly, has your taste descended so far to the depths of Cho Daejung?”

“Who?”

Hyungwon shook his head. “You don’t even know the name of the man you were flirting with?”

“I wasn’t flirting with anyone, your grace,” Naran insisted.

The prince took a step closer and then another, forcing the princess back until her spine collided with a trunk. A shower of leaves rained down around them as his face drew far too near for the comfort of her wine-addled mind. Though Naran was no lightweight, she felt the alcohol burning through her then, stealing what little control her conscious mind ever had from staring at his lips.

“You were talking this close,” Hyungwon asserted. “How is that not flirting?”

“We were not!” the princess objected. She was right, wasn’t she? The servant would not have been so bold in front of all those others, she was sure of it. “We were arguing about who was the better rider.”

The prince moved in even further as his voice dropped lower. “That is our thing.”

We have a thing? Naran marveled.

Hyungwon’s chest collided with hers, and the breath left her lungs. His hands found her hips now, and she felt her pulse jumping in her throat. His gaze would not let up on hers as it burned to communicate something more than his limited words ever could.

“I swear,” Naran managed through short, tight breaths, “nothing happened. I’m not interested in that man.”

“You’re not?”

She felt his fingers dig in even through the thick fabric of her coat.

“I’m not. I don’t even know him. And anyway, he doesn’t excite me.”

At this, Hyungwon raised an eyebrow. “Who does then?”

Just then, the service bell clanged down below at the palace, summoning all staff to duty. The couple broke apart, which was just as well as the voices of the rest of the party were already tumbling down the hill behind them.

“Come on,” said the prince. “We best get back.”

Hyungwon grabbed her hand and dragged Naran down the hill before the servants could crest it. His pace was unforgiving, and the princess struggled to keep up as his legs were much longer and his anger much hotter than hers. By the time the pair had reached their wing, she was breathless and a little lightheaded. When the prince threw open the doors to the sitting room, Magda nearly dropped the box she was holding.

“Your Highnesses!” she exclaimed. “Is everything all right?”

“Just fine, Magda,” answered Hyungwon curtly as he continued to tow his wife into the room.

“I did not hear you were back, Your Grace,” the attendant said with a deep bow.

“That makes two of you then. If you wouldn’t mind, please leave that in your lady’s room and help the staff ready for the guests’ arrival.”

Magda reeled back. “But won’t My Lady require me to—”

“Should she need you, she will summon you,” he replied. “Our guests should be arriving any moment, Magda.”

Naran looked helplessly at her attendant, who was more astonished than anything, but the resolve in the prince’s voice could not be challenged, and so Magda did as she’d been ordered and shut the main doors behind her.

Hyungwon dropped the princess’s hand at last and immediately whisked off the silk belt about his waist as he headed toward his bedroom door. Over his shoulder he said, “Wear what I bought you to dinner tonight.”

“You bought me—”

But the prince cut her off with a gruff, “It’s on your bed.”

His door closed a second later, and Naran was left dumbfounded in the gulf of space between them. With nothing else to do, she fell back on ritual and headed to her room. There on her bed was the box Magda had been holding. It was large, bound up with a fanciful satin ribbon that looked too pretty to unravel though she had no choice. Her fingers worked through shimmery emerald curls as the fabric puddled all at once to the bed.

Naran lifted the lid, and once it was off, a bloom of iris burst into the room so powerful that the princess felt like she was wandering the gardens again. Folded inside on a cushion of silk and tied again with another satin ribbon was a gown, more art than garment, she thought, though it wasn’t until she’d pulled it out that she understood how exquisite it truly was.

Made of the most divine Indian muslin, the skirt swished as it tumbled, flowing more like water than fabric. It was the color of a full-body blush, embroidered with jubilant golden bouquets along the hem and accented along the top in gold as well. Ruched sleeves capped the shoulders to leave the arms bare while the neckline dazzled in ways unlike anything Naran had ever worn. More in the risqué style of the Brittans, it plunged between the breasts all the way to the empire waist while the back risked a deeper exposure to the dip of the small of the spine.

Swallowing hard, she undressed and slipped into the breathy luxury of spun cotton. It was tight around the ribs, and with the hug of the sleeves, it took the princess a long minute of wriggling to put it on without help. After a life in heavy wools and furs, it felt like wearing a breeze. The bodice cupped her breasts like hands while the skirt fled from her hips as though it resented the notion of touching skin.

The princess stood in front of her looking glass. A woman looked back at her that she barely recognized. Her coal black hair tumbled down her back to cover the deep V, but even then, it was more skin than Naran had ever shown. The pale pink of the gown enhanced the freckles on her caramel skin, and though it should have made her the picture of innocence, the cut of the neckline negated it immediately. Her collarbone flared proudly as she eyed herself from side to side. The chest needed a few stitches to fit her figure more snugly, and if she turned too much, the pillows of her breasts could flash in full. But she liked it. She liked how powerful she felt in it. She liked how enticing she looked.

There was a quick double-knock at the door, and Naran announced thoughtlessly, “Come in.”

She expected Magda. Instead, she found her husband.

“Are you almost ready?” His words were out before his mind caught up to the image of his wife.

Hyungwon froze in the door frame. Naran, too, could not wrench her eyes from him.

It had been months since she’d seen him in a Western style, and even though Naran had many things imprinted on her mind from the night of their engagement, she did not remember him even then looking as aggressively handsome as he did now.

The prince wore a billowing white blouse, and when his arms moved, the sleeves puffed like a bird about to take flight. Most likely, the long ties around the collar were intended as a cravat, but Hyungwon did not wear them that way; instead, they were knotted loosely, a bit like he was planning on getting undressed rather than hosting company. His black trousers fit rather tightly to his legs, elongating an already enormous man, and making matters most problematic for her, he wore polished black boots to his knees. Her husband looked just as capable of charging to the front lines on horseback as he did captaining a great ship with one leg propped on a storm-battered prow.

“You look exactly as I dreamed you’d look in this,” said Hyungwon.

“Thank you.” Naran lowered her eyes to her neckline. “Maybe it should be tailored first though before I wear it.”

“It’s perfect the way it is.”

His eyes were smoky and distant, almost as though the man she had married had been locked away somewhere inside while some shadowy predator roamed around unrestrained.

“I—I think this dress might scandalize your guests, sire.”

“They’re Westerners, and this is in the Western style. I thought it might make them feel welcome, but perhaps it is the wrong kind of welcome.”

Naran bit her lip. “Perhaps I need a chemise underneath?”

His eyes fell to the heart-shaped neckline plunging between her breasts, but all the prince could do was nod.

“But Magda has gone to finalize arrangements, and I can’t get out of this ridiculous thing without her help,” she grumbled. “Whoever thought of clothes you can’t take off yourself. Positively idiotic.”

Hyungwon cleared his throat softly and stepped closer. “Shall I help you, my lady?”

“Didn’t you say the guests should be here by now? I’m sure you should be there to receive them…”

“I’m sure I should…”

Naran wet her lips.

“If you have a moment then, my lord, before you leave, I would appreciate the help.”

Hyungwon closed the door behind him as he approached. The princess presented her back to him. She put her arms up and waited, but instead of lifting the dress over her head, the prince grabbed her wrists and lowered them back to her side.

“Do you like it?” he rasped into her hair. “They had so many exotic things in Jemulpo, but only this one was made just for my princess. It came all the way from Brittany just to adorn these lovely curves.”

His hand circled Naran’s neck, his middle finger stroking the skin there, before it slipped to the wells at her collar bone. The lower he went, the rougher his breathing grew. Finally, his fingers slipped under her neckline as he grabbed a handful of her breast. There was a roughness in his grip she’d never experienced from him before, a hungrier need demanding satisfaction.

“My prince,” Naran said raggedly, “we don’t have time—”

Hyungwon cut her off with a playful pinch of her nipple as he mouthed along her neck. “Time? All I can think about is how much time you’ve made me stay away from you. It’s been over a week since I’ve touched you, my darling. That’s too cruel.”

The prince rolled her nipple between his fingers as her chest thrust out against the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Sire—ah! The guests—”

“There’s no way I can greet them like this. They’ll see how hard I am for you. I need you, Naran.”

As if to underscore his point, Hyungwon grazed his hips against her backside, and the princess felt the unmistakable jut of her husband’s erection.

“No time…” she protested weakly.

“You’re not really going to make me wait any longer, are you? Do you hate me that much?” As he spoke, Hyungwon removed his hand from her bodice to hike the skirt of her dress roughly up her legs until he could grab a handful of her ass and elicit a yelp of pleasure from her.

His hot, wet breath panted along her ear as he said, “If I put my fingers inside you right now, would I find you soaked for me?”

“Please don’t say these things,” she whimpered.

“I thought you liked it when I talked, princess?”

“S-so much…”

“Then answer my question.” Hyungwon kneaded the supple flesh at her hips as he purred, “Would I find you soaked for me?”

This time, the princess let out a little cry. “Yes! Yes, sire.”

Hyungwon kissed the side of her face for a job well done, and Naran melted into it. In the sunlight, his face always looked soft and friendly, but here in the diffused twilight of her bedroom, shadows contoured his cheeks and jaw. When his eyes locked on hers in the mirror, they were resolute.

“You’re always tempting me, always asking things of me, and I can’t say no to you, darling. I can’t say no.”

There were more kisses now, at her jaw and ear and throat until he covered the newly bared skin along her shoulder.

“Didn't you miss me at all?” he pressed. “I missed you. Tell me you didn't let anyone else into your bed. Tell me it's still only me. Even if it's not true.”

Don't say it, Naran warned herself. It's a mistake.

“It's only you, my prince.”

Hyungwon groaned. As though he could read the flutters in her breath as well as words themselves, he added, “Maybe it's because I'm used to getting everything I want, but I like to know what’s mine and mine alone.”

It's just pillow talk, her frantic mind justified. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

And yet, the other part of her refused to be appeased. Put a stop to this now, you fool!

“My prince…”

His chin was on her shoulder, his eyes meeting hers in the looking glass. Hyungwon shifted her skirt in his grip to bare her core and the ghostly vestiges of his brands on her thighs. With his whole hand, he cupped her eager sex.

“This,” he murmured as his middle finger coaxed her seam, “is mine.”

Naran’s hand flew to his, not sure if she was intent on starting things or stopping them.

“Darling,” said the prince with a laugh darkening his tone, “you are soaked.”

He teased the sweet button there with his fingertip, and all his wife could do now was tremble in his arms.

“I missed this,” Naran confessed as her head tipped back against his chest.

“What did you miss, beautiful?”

“Your attention!” she gasped as he circled a stroke faster.

“You can have as much of it as you want. I promise I will make you feel good again. All you have to do,” he whispered as a finger seated itself just outside her entrance, “is let me.”

Naran tore her face from the reflection of her husband to the man himself. He met her gaze there, their lips far too close for her wavering willpower. Would it be so bad to give in? What could it really hurt if she allowed his lips to touch hers? They had been everywhere else on her body already anyway.

Where was the harm in a single kiss?

A knock—more like a pounding—at the door tore them apart at once.

“Your Highness,” said an unfamiliar lady’s voice, “are you ready? Your visitors arrived twenty minutes ago, and no one but your staff has greeted them.”

There was a clear barb in the servant’s tone, but it disappeared when the prince’s stern face confronted the petite woman on the other side of the door.

“Oh, my god—Your Highness!” said Hayun, the peony-faced girl who had brought Saran’s letter that morning. She had also been at the picnic as Magda had singled her out as Naran’s biggest detractor, and for a short while, the princess had thought she’d been successful in swaying the woman’s attentions to one of the male servants, but from the shimmering look in the maid’s black eyes, all hope of redirection was lost.

“Servants do not bang on royal doors, miss,” the prince admonished with ferocity. “If you have not learned that by now, perhaps we can move your post to the chickenyard where you can crow to your heart’s content.”

Hayun stood there on the verge of tears before she gathered what was left of her pride to bow and slink out of the wing.

Naran stood bewildered in the middle of her room. Her hair was disheveled and her brand-new gown askance. Worse yet, her lips were throbbing from unfulfilled promise. But it was for the best.

In the end, she had to be grateful for Hayun’s disruption; otherwise, she would have to reconcile the fact that in a few short weeks, she had been willing to give up her dreams for something that was, at its heart, merely contractual marital sex. Naran would not be the same sort of pitiful princess that had haunted these palace halls for centuries. She was determined to be more than a womb and an outlet for a prince.

“We’d best get going, sire,” she said as she hastily twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with a jade hairpin. “Everyone is obviously anxious.”

Hyungwon sighed but nodded. “There’s a shawl at the bottom of the box so you don’t get cold.”

Naran grabbed it and wrapped it around her shoulders. It wasn’t as warm as a hanbok, but at least it gave her some security as she walked next to her husband on their way to the Receiving Hall.

Hoping for a safe topic of conversation, Naran asked, “Who are these visitors anyway that they can just disrupt an empire unannounced?”

“They are traders from Wessex,” said the prince, “or so the story goes. They have already visited nine of the East Sea realms.”

“Which just leaves Goryeo as number ten…” the princess mused. “Is that unusual for traders who have already come this far out of the West? Surely, they want to return home with as many trappings as they can to make it worth the harrowing trip.”

“That would be true if it weren’t for the fact that our empires already trade freely amongst each other. A simple trip to either Tuen Mun or Bombay would have stocked a ship with goods from all ten empires alone.”

“So, what are you thinking then? Spies?”

“Would it be the first time the West has come to the East looking to do more than trade?”

Naran shrugged her mouth, understanding her husband perfectly. She was to be on her guard with the traders, but at the same time, she couldn’t quell the rise of curiosity surging through her. She had occasion to meet Westerners beyond the usual royals she endured before as overland traders following the Silk Road would sometimes stop at Urga to curry favor with the khan, but she was never allowed to sit with them, her mother far too nervous that the princess might stow away in a caravan if given the opportunity—which probably wasn’t far off. There were few things as titillating as life on the open road, but she wasn’t so sure the same was true of the open sea. Naran had never seen the ocean, and the thought of not having land under her feet was terrifying if also intriguing.

“Are you all right?” Hyungwon asked suddenly, shaking her from her thoughts.

“Yes, of course.”

He squinted at her as though he were trying to read her mind but gave up as they reached the doors to the Receiving Hall.

“Just stay by my side,” he whispered. “Be circumspect. If they ask you a question that makes you uncomfortable, you do not need to answer for the sake of decorum. I’d prefer if they left sooner rather than later anyway…”

Hyungwon looked at his wife again, this time with a much coarser emotion in his eyes, and somehow, it felt like his hand was back under her dress again.

Just then, the doors to the hall opened to reveal two white men chatting in the middle of the large and lavishly-appointed room while several servants, including Magda, Hansol, and a red-faced Hayun, waited like statues along the heavily decorated walls. A spread of tea and appetizers covered the table in the center though the guests had not touched them.

As soon as Hansol saw the royal couple, he proclaimed, “Presenting His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Hyungwon and his wife, the Princess Supreme Narangerel.”

The strangers hurried to stand and bow to their hosts, and when they rose, the one with copper hair and a matching beard met the princess’s eyes. The way he looked at her made Naran feel like he knew her. Even as his gray-haired compatriot introduced the pair of them as sailor emissaries from the island nation of Wessex, the redhead stared at her with a strange sort of smile.

“Come, Connor, quit your lollygagging. You’ll make Her Highness uncomfortable in her own home,” reprimanded the elder sailor. “I beg you, Your Highness, please forgive my first mate. He has been at sea for far too long and forgotten all his manners, it seems.”

“It’s quite all right,” Naran assured, though she couldn't shake the intensity of the younger sailor’s eyes.

Neither, it seemed, could her husband as Hyungwon laced his fingers through hers and led her to the couch across from their guests.

For a minute, nobody seemed to know what to say. Naran had yet to really see her husband lead acts of state, but judging by his ramrod straight back and firmly set lips, he was uneasy. For their part, the sailors looked confused, and the princess wondered at the sorts of welcomes they might have received in other kingdoms. Perhaps they were not accustomed to having to lead conversations with royals, and it seemed the prince wasn’t interested in making it easy for them.

“Thank you for accommodating a pair of lowly traders on such short notice,” said the gray-haired man with an awkward smile. “I am Captain Elliot Witherspoon of the HMS Psyche, and this is my first mate Connor McCarthy. We have been traveling the East Seas at His Majesty King Edward’s behest on a mission of goodwill between kingdoms. It is His Majesty’s hope that East and West might strengthen diplomatic relations through trade, particularly with the Empire of Goryeo as trade has been scarce between our nations for years. Last time we sailed into Namgyeong, Emperor Gongmin was very resistant to such a plan unless the other Eastern realms entered into such trade routes first.”

Hyungwon hummed. “And it seems they have, have they?”

“Indeed, Your Highness.”

The prince did not respond, and the sailors looked amongst each other as they regrouped. “Will the Emperor and Empress be joining us this evening to hear such good news?”

“I’m afraid not,” said the prince. “They are away from the palace on business this evening.”

“No doubt they are very busy running an empire as powerful as Goryeo. Even in the West, the might of your realm is often spoken of.”

Hyungwon just smiled wanly.

The captain looked to his first mate, but the redhead was fixated on the princess.

“I hear,” said Captain Witherspoon, “that congratulations are in order. Your wedding is the talk of the Eastern realms.”

“Is it?” Hyungwon asked flatly.

“In one way or another,” laughed the captain, “particularly in Champa.”

“I’ll bet it is,” Naran retorted and did her best to hide her smirk.

Captain Witherspoon turned his attention to the princess as he asked, “How have you adjusted to life in Goryeo, Your Highness?”

“It’s a beautiful country, certainly not like any place I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you had occasion to visit the city?”

“A bit for the wedding and once for a festival, but, regrettably, not as much as I should like.”

The captain folded his hands in his lap and sat back as silence filled the space. Naran glanced at the prince, but Hyungwon did not offer any conversation despite his insistence that they host these people.

“I confess, Captain,” she said since no one else seemed to know what to say at this point, “I do not know much of the Western empires. Is life there much different from the Eastern empires you’ve visited?”

“The West is fonder of castles rather than palaces perhaps, and the roads are more likely to be paved, but the lands aren’t nearly so vast, and the people are a great deal more interested in each other’s business because of it. That said, people are people everywhere you go.”

“Is that so?” she said. “Still, I should like to see that.”

“Indeed, you would,” interjected the first mate. “Indeed, you would…”

Captain Witherspoon glared at Connor before he turned back to the royal couple and said, “You know, Your Highnesses, we have been hosted in many great houses on this trip, but this is the first time we’ve been greeted in costumes of our homeland. I confess, it’s a rather welcome sight after so long at sea.”

“And how long have you been away from home?” Naran asked.

“These eight months.”

“Eight months! How long shall it take you to get back?”

“Another four or more. Depends on the seas. It’s not a life for everyone, that’s for sure,” said the captain.

“But for those of us who get restless staying in one place, it’s rather a dream life,” Connor added, eyes boring into Naran’s. She didn’t understand why the man kept looking at her like that, but it made her feel rather naked though not in the same way the Western gown did.

Captain Witherspoon pursed his weathered lips before he relented and took a cup of tea. At first taste, he raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You know, tea is different in just about every country we’ve visited. Isn’t that rather funny?”

“As is the alcohol,” Connor echoed. “So much to sample at every port…”

“To that end, Your Highness,” said the captain, finally turning his attention back to the prince, who had barely said a word in the last several minutes, “if you don’t mind, I should like to bend your ear for a bit on this matter of trade.”

Hyungwon looked as much a statue as his servants. Naran stole a glance at him but found that his attention was frozen on her, not either of the guests he’d insisted on hosting. There was longing in his eyes—there was no other word for it—and it made her mouth very dry. She dove for a cup of tea as well, and once she’d had her wits back about her, she said, “As you would like to discuss business, I will show Mr. McCarthy the artwork in the meantime.”

Her husband looked at her as though she couldn’t have said anything more offensive in the moment, but she was tired of doing all the work of this stupid party that he had forced upon her anyway. In spite of his frantic look, she excused herself and headed toward a portrait at the far corner of the room nearest Magda, hoping to draw some strength and sensibility from her dearest friend.

Connor followed eagerly. He did not bother with food or drink, just met her stride for stride as he fluffed out his beard. He faced her full-on now, no interest at all in the stern-faced emperor who sat squat on his throne in the painting.

“I have never met a Moghul before,” blurted the sailor as he studied the princess. “You’re a very exotic thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid my good sir has me confused, for I am not a thing at all,” Naran challenged, “but a woman.”

“Ay, and what a woman you are! One of a kind, I should say. You’re an adventurer, Princess Narangerel. What on earth are you doing in a palace of all places?”

At this, the princess turned her attention from the portrait to the man beside her. “An adventurer? What makes you say that?”

The redhead shrugged playfully, a smile splitting his beard. “I, too, am an adventurer, Your Highness. I can see it in you.”

“Is that why you look at me like you know me?”

“Ay, I do. You’ve got the restless eyes and the itchy feet. It’s why you can’t sit still for more than a few minutes. Your tapping foot is a perfect match to my own.”

Naran stood to her full height and stomped down her relentless urge to fidget. “I feel there are many like me back in my homeland, sir. I am not this rare breed you make me out to be. You may be well-traveled but perhaps not where it counts.”

Connor raised an eyebrow. His skin had been leathered by the ruthless sun, which made his bright hair all the brighter, especially his bushy eyebrows, and when he laughed, he looked like the merriest man she’d ever seen. She wondered if there was anything that didn’t amuse a man like him. “If that’s true, then maybe there’s a woman out there for me yet.”

The silly thought rushed through her mind that, if things had been different, if she were still in Moghulikhan, she might have passed a night with the man. He wasn’t nearly so handsome as her husband, to be sure, but Connor was bold and interesting, and it occurred to Naran that perhaps her mother had been right to fear Western men because she could see how she might be spirited away by his wanderlust.

But then her eyes slid back to Hyungwon, who was looking at the sea captain exactly as he had the many eligible bachelorettes the night the couple had met—with indifference. Sitting there with one booted leg crossed over the other and looking more like a pirate king than an emperor, he was magnificent. Maybe she was just strung out from their ruined encounter earlier or maybe it was the compounding of all the days she’d been without him before that, but thoughts of running anywhere but to him seemed impossible in the moment.

“There’s certainly no hope for me in Champa, I will tell you that,” continued the first mate, clearly unaware of her stampede of pained thoughts. “Would it come as a surprise to Her Highness that the name Moghulikhan leaves a sour taste in the royal palace?”

In her mind’s eye, Naran saw a flash of silver liquor dripping from the edge of a desk followed by the flash of her husband’s eyes staring up at her between her legs, and her breath quickened. She took a page out of Hyungwon’s book and stood tall as she faced her guest. “You might be sailors, good sir, but I think you’re doing a bit more like fishing.”

Connor laughed. “Ay, anything is possible. We have visited many realms, Your Highness, but I must say, East or West, I have never seen a royal lady so engaged with our discussions.”

“I'm sure the ladies were engaged enough but maybe not at the liberty to show you. I have never been one to be concerned with appearances, however, Mr. McCarthy.”

“Now, see, I knew I was right about you. So, how does a free spirit like Her Highness find herself as Princess Supreme of a country all about appearances?”

“Happy chance,” she said with a hollow smile, but the canny sailor saw right through it.

“A victim of your station, I take it.”

“I never said that, sir.”

“You don’t need to. When you’ve been out on the open ocean as long as I have, you can read a swell before it breaks over you. Even the calmest seas hide their true devastation. Have you ever been on the sea, Princess?”

Naran’s heart unexpectedly shook. She barely remembered how to answer as she said, “I haven’t, no. My homeland is surrounded only by land.”

Connor leaned against the wall, nearly on the painting, which had Hansol lurching forward in case of emergency, but the Wessex man was totally unbothered. “If you like, I can show you to the harbor tomorrow and take you for a spin on my vessel.”

“She’s busy tomorrow,” interrupted Prince Hyungwon, who had materialized by his wife’s side looking at least a head taller than she remembered. The prince looked to the sailor with a face blank of all emotion, and it left a heavy lump in the basin of her belly. “Please, sir, if you would rejoin us.”

Hyungwon took his wife’s hand again and led her back to the couch, and this time when they sat, he sat flush against her. His hand stayed tangled up with hers before she shook it away with a tight smile for her guests. At length, the sailors began enumerating all the ports along the Wu empire they had had the pleasure of visiting while detailing all the wonders they encountered there, but Naran could not hear any of them because the prince had laid a hand just above her knee now. She did her best to ignore it, but Hyungwon’s heat as well as his grip were impossible to ignore.

Her husband leaned across the seat and brought his lips to her ear as he whispered, “I would give anything to be inside you right now.”

Stricken, her wide eyes shot to the prince, and the princess subtly shook her head. As casually as she could, she brushed his hand away, and the conversation continued onto stories of the Da Viet coast and its bay of stony green giants, but they had barely traveled into the port itself before the prince's hand was back, this time higher on her thigh—with his pinky stroking insistently, nearly brushing her dampening secret.

Again, Hyungwon leaned to her ear and whispered, “Come away with me. Now.”

Naran shook her head again, but it took all her social graces to do so without screaming. She felt the flush rising up her chest, and with her low neckline, she knew full well it was on display for all—Connor’s stare and subsequent lip lick were all the proof she needed.

Fingers dug into her thigh then.

“Now, Naran.”

Hyungwon shot to his feet as Captain Witherspoon was mid-sentence and declared, “Gentlemen, if you will, please excuse my wife and me for a bit on an urgent matter.”

“Urgent, Your Highness?” the captain asked, aghast.

“Indeed. In the meantime, please enjoy a performance on one of our traditional instruments, the gayageum, as our staff prepares some of the coffee you so generously gifted us, and we can enjoy it together before our night concludes.” To his attendant, Hyungwon turned now and said, “Hansol.”

The servant bowed and hurried out of the room to bring back a middle-aged woman in an elegant hanbok. She scurried in and took a seat on a cushion as she perched a long, flat wooden harp across her lap, and moments later, the honeyed twang of the strings echoed in the hall.

Though the sailors looked floored by the unprecedented departure, there was nothing they could do but agree.

Meanwhile, Naran felt like a flag at the wind’s mercy as Hyungwon led the pair of them down the hall to the next room over, which was barely more than a closet compared to the hall they’d just left. No one had bothered to light any candles here, so it was cloistered with shadows and the outlines of furniture.

“What is with you today!” she snapped the first chance she got, but shock and indignance gave way to raw hunger the moment her husband spun her in his arms so her back was pressed to his chest. He wrapped both arms around her and squeezed her to him.

“I can’t take it anymore. You’re all I’ve been thinking about for days.”

“My lord—”

“Hush, darling. Are you going to tell me you never thought of me? Do you want to break me?”

As mad as she was, Naran’s arms encircled his around her chest and she melted back into him. “No…”

“So, tell me.”

“I thought of you, my prince.”

Hyungwon let out a shaky breath against her neck.

“We never got to finish what we started, princess,” he rasped as he dug through her skirts now, seeking bare skin, but the layers on the Western dress were confusing, and Naran heard a tear as frustration got the better of her husband.

“Be careful, sire!” she hissed. “I can’t go back in tatters.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Hyungwon warned. “Maybe I want you to go back there with my marks all over you and your face dripping sweat. These sailors are too familiar. They should know they can’t have everything their eyes land on.”

“My prince…”

Naran tipped her head back, and Hyungwon kissed her brow. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time to tease you like before, but if you—”

His fingers glanced across her folds just then, and he let out a ragged breath.

“You’re already so wet,” he said, astonished.

“That’s from before,” she insisted though they both knew it was a lie. From the moment his hand had found a home on her knee, her body had hoped—prepared—for more.

Hyungwon rested his chin on her shoulder as he pressed her back against him. She could feel his hardness yearning for its rightful home, but as much as they should have been in a rush, her lazy prince refused to give up his intimate hold on his bride. Two of his fingertips glided up and down her lower lips, parting her just enough to spill more arousal over his digits. He found her needy little hill there and pressed just enough to have her trembling with excitement.

“You’re holding back. Naran,” he scolded. “Why are you holding back?”

“Our guests—”

“I thought you liked it when your audience leaves unsatisfied?”

“Yes,” she gasped as he rubbed her more urgently, “but these men aren't servants.”

Hyungwon growled against the juncture of her shoulder and neck. “Who cares? We'll never see them again.”

“What will they say about us at the next palace?”

Between kisses, he murmured, “They will say that the prince is very dedicated to producing an heir for his kingdom. Is that such a bad thing?”

Naran’s eyes drooped further and further, with every sweep of her husband’s fingers through her messy seam. Her voice was smoky and lost as she abandoned the last of her defenses. “No… No. It’s a good thing.”

“A very good thing.”

At last, Hyungwon removed his hand if only to bend her over the back of the nearest chair. The princess gripped the armrests, eyes wide with the panic of anticipation, and once he had positioned Naran exactly as it pleased him, he slid his middle finger into her core. Her back arched as the growing craving inside her was finally satiated.

The prince spent only a few moments priming her wet walls before he hiked her skirt properly over her hips. If anyone should open the door to the room, she would be on full display, and that only made her core contract harder.

There was the rustle of more fabric before she felt the dribbling head of her husband’s length against the inside of her thigh. Naran whimpered and glared at him over her shoulder, half in panic, half in desperation. “Wait, my prince—”

“Argue with me again and I won’t give you my cock, Naran. Is that what you want?”

He was gruff and so nonchalant about such language that it weakened the last of her defenses. With her lip between her teeth and her eyes glazed with lust, the princess shook her head.

“That’s what I thought,” Hyungwon said far too smugly, though that faded away quickly as he caressed the swell of her exposed flesh. “You are ready for me, aren't you, darling? Say you're ready. I can't wait anymore.”

In the darkness, his voice was heavenly even as his hands were wicked along the bloom of her hips.

She nodded. “For the—”

But before she could complete their mantra, Hyungwon pushed in to his hilt. Naran let out a long, low cry as the strength of his manhood nearly brought a tear to her eye. He gripped her waist and pushed her hips deep down against him so the head of his cock nestled in newfound depths inside her.

“I could fill you up right now,” he panted as he doubled over her, one hand still on her hip but the other joining hers on the armrest. “I’m that hard for you.”

“Not yet,” she begged though it was mixed with a moan, too.

“Not yet? It’s not just for the throne anymore, is it. My wife wants more pleasure first?”

“Yes…” answered the princess, only vaguely aware of how mindless she sounded.

“Even though there are men with greedy eyes waiting for her?”

The prince thrust in hard, chasing a ragged gasp from Naran’s lungs.

“Don’t care, don’t care.”

“What do you care about?” Hyungwon asked, his tongue thick against the shell of her ear now.

“Just care about you inside me. S’all I care about,” she slurred.

Naran ground her ass back against his hips while the prince rode out a series of emphatic thrusts. Each one was more determined than the last to force moan after moan from her.

Suddenly, Hyungwon came halfway up only to bring her along. His big hand splayed across her chest, groping her breast through her dress as he peppered kisses down her throat. He sucked a patch in the most visible real estate there, and once satisfied, he thrust upward at last to his wife’s grateful gasp.

With the new angle, he favored slower, deeper thrusts that pressed heavy inside her belly. His member savored her heat and tightness at his leisure while his lips continued their assault on her once-unblemished skin. At last, he pulled back, pleased with his handiwork, and Naran swore she could feel her heart throbbing underneath the new bruises.

“Make sure your hair stays up,” commanded Hyungwon as he roughly rocked into her. “Can’t show them the last ones, so I need them to see these.”

“Yes, my lord,” Naran sobbed as she gripped white-knuckled on the back of the chair.

“When we go back—when we go back, tilt your head like this—” Hyungwon’s hand moved to the crown of her head and gently pulled it toward her shoulder so that the sun-warmed tract of her neck was prominent, where his red-and-purple bull’s-eyes would be unmistakable even across a large room. “Let them see. Let them suffer.”

“Oh yes,” she groaned as he drilled more furiously with his every passing order. “Yes…”

“Don’t hold back now, darling. Not today. You're not a quiet lover, Naran. The whole empire knows your screams.”

“I’ve—ooh… I've always been able to control it. Not, ah, not with you!”

Hyungwon rumbled against her lobe, nibbling it as he ground himself in to his hilt. “You like it when I take you, princess?”

“So much.”

“You want more?”

“Yes…” she slurred. “More…”

Naran thought he’d take her harder, but instead, he pressed the both of them back over the chair and switched to a slower, more intimate stroke that ensured his shaft massaged the most sensitive, secret parts inside her. This way, he could bottom out with every thrust so forcefully that she hiccupped out her moans each time. As if that weren’t enough, his hand braced over hers on the armrest again, this time interlocking fingers, while the other splayed across the plane of her belly, pressing firmly to double her pleasure from inside and out.

Naran was stretched so full that she could think of nothing else—not prudence, not courtesy, not restraint. She sealed her hand over his on her stomach and greedily pressed back with each stab of his manhood into her velvet. Hyungwon picked up speed now—faster, hungrier, closer. More, more, more. They panted in time with one another as luxurious pressure built between the princess’s thighs.

There were no more words to be exchanged—they were well passed that point. Just the rasp of her husband’s desire for her was enough to make her climax, but combined with the way his body was consuming her and the way he took her more and more savagely, when Naran let go, she came truly undone. Her knees buckled and her body shook as a hitching cry pealed from her lips. If Hyungwon hadn’t been holding her up, she would have collapsed.

Instead, he hugged her tighter, riding out her seizing release a bit longer with stuttering plunges of his own until he squeezed her hands and pounded into her with a final exclamation of his cock unloading a torrent of his seed into her shuddering walls.

Together, they slumped against the chair, still hopelessly entangled and breathless. Minutes passed before either could form words, but at last, Naran managed, “My lord?”

“Hm?”

“You’re holding me too tightly.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. His arms unwound from her, and the temperature plummeted as dramatically as it did during nights on the steppe.

Naran lifted herself off his member and shuddered at the chaser of emptiness that followed. Hyungwon’s release gushed down her thighs. Though the mess made her recoil, it also made her stomach tighten and her weak knees rub together.

“I should clean up,” she said as she shuffled toward the door, but her husband grabbed her wrist to stop her.

The way his head leaned against the paneling in the thin light, his long black bangs matted with sweat and splintering his foggy gaze, made something in her chest squeeze painfully.

“Later,” he said. “Now, we return to our guests.”

“My lord, in this state—”

“Yes, in this state,” he insisted. His eyes fell to her slender wrist in his hand as he ran his thumb over the tendons there. His voice was huskier when he added, “We won’t be long.”

Naran shivered.

They headed back to the receiving room where they found the Irishmen uncharacteristically silent while Magda and Hansol looked on shell-shocked from the corners. At the sight of the young royals’ disheveled appearances, the room’s collective eyes widened, with the orange-haired sailor’s narrowing extra sharply. To Naran’s great relief, the musician kept playing; the princess didn’t think she could bear the company without the distraction.

Hyungwon sat on the sofa again, but when Naran moved to sit next to her husband, he instead tugged her to take a seat on the armrest next to his shoulder so he could wrap his arm around her waist and lean his head against her side. He smiled at the sailors as he said, “Pardon the interruption, gentlemen. Where were we?”

“We were, uh—” Captain Witherspoon glanced around the room, but Hyungwon smiled.

“What was it the good captain was talking about, my princess?”

Naran’s head whipped around to glare at her husband, and from the throat clears across from her, she understood what her husband’s question was really about. In one fell swoop, the burgeoning marks on her neck were the new focal point of the room. Her hand raced up to let down her hair, but Hyungwon caught her and shoved a cup of coffee in it, a smirk on his face.

“Um, Mau Le,” she said, her voice wavering with the embarrassment and maybe a little something deeper.

The prince poured a cup of coffee for himself, and he sipped it as though nothing unusual had happened at all. In fact, he picked right back up where they left off. “Yes, what was that you were saying about the Mau Le markets, Captain Witherspoon?”

Hesitantly, the gray-haired man resumed his description of the humid, fragrant markets of the Da Viet port, but there was much less flower to his stories now. His first mate no longer risked the princess’s attention at all and instead focused on what was left in his coffee cup.

Talk drifted back to the many wonderful exports the Wessex tradesmen could offer thanks to this sailing route, but with her husband’s lust weeping onto the seat of her dress, Naran had a hard time contributing anything to the conversation anymore let alone paying it any attention. For his part, Hyungwon had never looked more engaged.

At last, the princess could bear the distraction no longer, and when she abruptly stood, and all three men rose as well.

Red-faced, she bowed lightly as she said, “If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I will be right back."

“See you shortly, my darling,” said the prince shamelessly.

If Naran weren’t still basking in the glow of a much-needed release, she might have sworn at him, guests or not. Instead, she headed into the hall to the closest wash chamber, but before she could get there, she heard airy footsteps behind her.

“Excuse me, Your Highness?”

Naran turned to find Hayun alone in the hallway.

“What is it?” the princess asked.

Hayun bowed deeply, her hands tucked reverently in her hanbok sleeves as she swung forward with the grace of a bell. When she rose, she kept her eyes downcast as was the custom with the lower-level staff. “I am very sorry to bother Her Grace, but I am wondering something.”

“Okay…”

The servant cleared her throat lightly, a wisp of a smile curling her petal lips. “It seems to me I heard an echo in the halls just a little bit ago. Did you perhaps as well?”

“An echo?”

“Oh, yes. I have a feeling Her Grace might remember hearing them quite well, as did I. There were several things I know I have heard before, but last time, instead of an echo, I heard them much, much closer, almost as though they were in my ears instead of Her Grace’s.”

Naran was too dumbfounded to form words.

“Just thought her Esteemed Ladyship should be aware,” added Hayun with another bow before she rose and returned to the Receiving Hall, leaving turbulent seas for a princess, who had known only firm land, to navigate.

[ioaezz]

CREGAN STARK ♱ 𝒯HE ℰND

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ KING VISERYS HOSTS a tourney and feast after the birth of his seventh grandchild, though you’d rather hide yourself in your books, dreaming of your own prince charming. fortunately for you he comes in the form of a muscular, brooding northerner named cregan stark.

𝒫AIRING. . . cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

𝒲ORDCOUNT. . . 11.4 k

𝒢ENRE. . . lots of romance, fluff, angsty ending, no dance of the dragon au, love at first sight, kinda grumpy x sunshine but not really.

𝒲ARNINGS. . . profanity, ooc cregan?, unrealistic relationships, death in childbirth, mention of decapitation, targcest (not reader tho), reader has white hair and violet eyes but her father isn’t explicitly described, pregnancy, nudity, birth, mention of sex, blood, aegon, not proofread, uhhh i think that’s it??

ℐOAEZZ. . . this has been in my drafts for a while but i was too lazy to publish it… anyways it was supposed to be a small drabble but turned out much longer than i had expected.

ℬooks had always been your form of escapism. The fairytales kept the harsh reality off your mind even if for only a couple of hours. Your brothers never understood your love for it as they preferred to fly around on their dragons. Your mother found this passion of yours endearing and wasn't surprised to discover that you weren't as opposed to marriage as she had been when she was younger.

The tales in your books spoke of true love. Both passionate and gentle, which you couldn't help but crave to have one day. Although the couples that surrounded you weren't as sincere as you would have liked for yourself, you still held out some hope that you would find your own Prince Charming.

He came in the form of Lord Cregan Stark. A brooding, muscular man from the North who hadn't even given marriage a thought until his council forced it upon him. He needed heirs they had said and so with much protest, he began scouring for a wife that could take on the title 'Lady of Winterfell'. He had never dared to even consider you, who was the princess of the realm, believing that both your status and blood would not be fit for the brutal winters in the North.

Yet when he met you for the very first time at a tournament in King's Landing to celebrate the birth of Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena's second child, he couldn't imagine having anyone else as his wife. He could still vividly remember the way your pastel pink dress hugged your form as you sat beside your younger brothers, a book in your grasp as you entirely ignored the cries of a knight who had been decapitated. As much as he tried, he was unable to rip his eyes off you as a remote smile graced your lips at something that must have occurred in your book.

During the feast that followed you were seated at the extensive table in the front, between your uncle Aemond and brother Jacaerys as some form of barrier to separate the Greens from the Blacks. Music was played beautifully and people danced joyfully, yet you remained invested in the happenings of your book. Cregan cast a look at the Maester he had brought with him before moving to stand. The people around him watched on in curiosity, the Lord of Winterfell didn't exactly seem like the dancing type. He made his way towards your table, bowing his head at the King and Queen as well as to your mother, who was just as inquisitive as everyone else.

He shifted to stand in front of you, not that you noticed as you turned another page of your book. Cregan didn't mind your oblivion, waiting patiently for you to notice him which could have taken much longer if not for Prince Daemon who nudged you softly. You looked up at your step-father with questioning eyes before turning to face the Lord who your father motioned to. A blush spread across your face as you ultimately caught sight of the handsome man in front of you who watched on in amusement.

“I apologize for not noticing you earlier Lord Stark,” your voice was sweeter than any honey he had ever tasted, which made his heart throb beneath the layers of fur. “It is I who must apologize for distracting you, princess. I take it is an entertaining story you were reading?” the words caused Aemond to scoff as he quietly listened on but neither of you took notice of it.

Your eyes shone brightly at the mention of your book, exhilarated at the prospect of sharing something so dear to you, “it certainly is one of my preferred books. I could lend it to you if you wish?” Your offer entertained Cregan as he'd never even considered reading something that hadn't been for studies, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Perhaps you could tell me more about it whilst we share a dance,” his offer was sly, Rhaenyra had to give it to him, but she was pleased as long as her daughter was. Heat rose to your cheeks as you shyly nodded, not used to such kind Lords who were truly interested in you. You rose to your feet, placing your beloved book on your chair before stepping around the table. He offered his arm which you gratefully took only to be stunned by his muscles which were hidden underneath the layers of clothing. Cregan had quickly taken notice of your astonishment and felt a sense of satisfaction fill him as his lips scarcely tugged upwards.

He led you towards the dance floor as people got out of your way, but your gaze remained on the man beside you. His dark eyes met your violet ones, which sent your heart racing as you offered him a nervous smile. You fell into the rhythm of the music, dancing with such a grace that left Cregan speechless, but he had to snap out of his daze if he wished to impress you.

“I like your accent,” the words escaped your lips so easily which startled him. His eyes dilated, his eyebrow raised as a rare grin rose on his handsome face. “Thank you, princess. I find yours entrancing as well,” his low voice sent flutters through your stomach as you smiled at him. “I must admit, I have never seen anyone so enraptured by a mere book.” The excitement rose in you once more at the turn in conversation, speaking with much vigor, which Cregan appreciated more than anything.

Your evening was spent with the Warden of the North, never straying too far from him as conversation flew between you, never faltering. Your family had witnessed this as well, deeming it unusual behavior from you but not unwelcome. After all, it had been time for you to get married, which Rhaenyra attempted to put off for as long as possible in the hopes that you would find a husband on your own.

“Is this Cregan Stark still available?” Your mother questioned as the King glanced at his wife with much excitement, which she didn't reciprocate.

“Yes, he has yet to marry. I heard he is in search of a wife,” Viserys expressed his elation effortlessly which made his eldest son envious of his niece as the King hadn't even been half as delighted during his marriage, not even for the birth of his grandchildren. The following day most Lords and Ladies began returning towards their own regions, which included Cregan Stark.

The man felt disappointment within him that he would be parting from you so soon, but you had promised him the evening before to come bid him farewell in the morning. A profound frown was etched upon his face, which perished at the sight of you approaching him in a simple yet exquisite red dress. The rather sad expression you wore tugged at his heartstrings as he took quick steps to reach you. His hands enveloped your soft ones, and he pressed a gentle kiss on them which made you smile bashfully.

“I shall miss our banter, Lord Stark,” you mumbled, heart heavy, but the man attempted to soothe you despite his own heartache. “There are no words to describe how much I will as well my princess.” A reassuring smile tugged at his lips, streaks of his hair flying around at a sudden soft breeze of wind. Your eyes softened, and you glanced around to make sure there were no eyes pointed towards you before quickly engulfing him in a hug that took him by surprise. While he knew it would be frowned upon, he couldn't resist wrapping his arms around you to relish in your touch.

You stayed like that for a couple more moments before you had to let go. However before you got another chance to say anything, a hand abruptly fell upon your shoulder. You jolted slightly, taken by surprise only to relax once you saw it was your father. Cregan narrowed his eyes at the sight of the Rogue Prince but respectfully bowed his head, which amused Daemon.

“The King has requested your presence,” his words were laced with what you could only call mirth as Cregan furrowed his brows in puzzlement but nodded nonetheless. The two men walked beside one another, their presence demanding respect, as you were left to follow them with a much softer grace.

The three of you entered the throne hall where your grandsire was seated, the Queen by his side whilst your mother stood on his left with a reassuring smile on her face. "Your Grace," Cregan bowed deeply, his form tense as he awaited what Viserys had wished to discuss.

"I propose a betrothal," the words were straightforward and surprised the both of you. Your fingers clenched behind your back as you remained impassive, keeping your shoulders wide and chin high, "my daughter has brought the notion to my attention to betroth you to my firstborn granddaughter, princess Y/n Velaryon as I heard you were in search for a wife." Your eyes widened and jaw slackened as you glanced between your family who were watching you with a keen eye. You then turned your gaze towards Cregan who met your eyes with much vigor. His eyes were questioning whether you wished for this as well and at the quirk of the corners of your mouth he smiled in return, relief falling upon him as he realised you would remain by his side.

"I heartily agree with this proposal," his voice was low yet clear, and it sent shivers down your spine as you watched your betrothed with adoration despite only knowing him for a day.

The king smiled widely, "This is absolutely wonderful news!" He cheered loudly. Alicent cast her gaze down, a trembling sigh leaving her lips as she thought about what this meant, "Though it does bring us to the complication of agreements." Cregan dutifully nodded his head as a thoughtful look appeared on his face while you watched on in worry that he might retract his previous statement due to you being Rhaenyra's heir.

"As Princess Y/n is Princess Rhaenyra's heir she shall inherit the throne one day, and you will have to become her King-consort," Cregan had realised this as well and nodded along, figuring it would be long from now that this would happen, and he would have an heir of his own to become Warden of the North, "Your firstborn child will be set to inherit the Iron Throne and your second-born will inherit Winterfell."

Your breath hitched as you awaited Cregan's reply, hoping he would agree, "I see no issue with this, your grace," a wide smile spread across your face. Your feet itched to move closer to your betrothed who couldn't stand to be away from you either, but he had a final proposition to make, "Though I have one request." Your mother raised her brow in anticipation, wondering what he might have to say, while your grandsire nodded.

"I wish for the wedding to take place in Winterfell, in the way of the Old Gods," Alicent was quick to protest but Viserys hushed her as he pondered about it. He cast a glance at his daughter who didn't seem to be against it, she knew her daughter wasn't exceptionally religious.

"Very well, you shall travel back to Winterfell and within six moons we will follow for the marriage," the King agreed. Cregan nodded, bowing a final time before turning to leave with a pleased expression on his face. On his way out, he intertwined his hand with yours which sent your heart fluttering as you followed him outside.

"I am sorry you didn't have a say in this-" but before Cregan could finish his sentence, you wrapped your arms around his neck, much more intimate than the modest hug that you had shared earlier. "Do not apologise. I could not have been happier with this betrothal," you mumbled into his ear, his face pressed into your neck as he smiled widely, which was so unlike his usual brooding expression.

The months passed by far too slowly in your opinion. Winter washed over, and your grandfather ensured that supplies were sent to Winterfell so they could survive this winter more easily. Some on the council had protested as they had never done such a thing before, but the King declared it final as Winterfell was about to become your home. Cregan was grateful for the supplies which greatly helped his people, but a lingering bitterness remained at the fact that so many lives could have been spared if the King had done this sooner.

The preparations for your wedding were larger than the one of your uncle and aunt, the entire realm was eager for the marriage of the woman that would become their Queen one day. The people in the North were delighted to be able to host such an extensive event, as it took their minds off the dreary weather. The wedding would take place in the middle of the summer during the warmest days of the North, but snow would still cover everything in sight.

You exchanged letters with Cregan through ravens, who was always delighted to receive them as you told him everything that had happened since your last letter. It took the young Lord a while to come up with his own anecdotes as he was a man of few words, but he made an effort for you as he knew how much joy the letters brought you. He had given you the charge of most things like flower arrangements, cake, and guests as he wished for you to have your dream wedding like within your stories while he handled the more tedious aspects.

When the week of the wedding finally approached you couldn't wipe the smile off your face, much to your family's pleasure. They listened on and on about your dear Cregan who had sent you new books. Your brothers had the tendency to whine about it, but your stepsisters quickly shut them up with a kick to the shin as they admired how you radiated contentment.

By the time you and your family would be departing from Dragonstone on dragon back, most of the Kingdom had already reached Winterfell. They stayed in the most luxurious inns the North had to offer, which wasn't quite a lot while suffering from the cold.

You climbed upon Vermithor, who seemed glad to see you, and you could only pray he wouldn't mind the cold too much. You and your family left Dragonstone together, everyone flying on their respective dragon, joyful to be spending time together before you would be separated from them. Your uncles and aunt had wished to travel by dragon as well, even willing to fly with your family, but their mother had refused, ordering them to ride in the carriage with her and their father.

It took you a couple of days to reach Winterfell and you had to admit it was colder than you had expected, but you didn't mind it as much as Lucerys who was shaking in his boots. You admired the white snow that covered every surface when people started shouting from beneath, announcing your presence. Cregan stood at the clearing they had prepared for the dragons with his half-sister somewhere behind him, watching on in amazement as the large creatures landed.

His eyes were filled with marvel as he saw the different sizes and colors of the dragons, recalling all the things you wrote about your beloved Vermithor. His gaze searched for you atop your dragon and once he finally found you his heart leaped in his throat, his hands itching to touch you after such a long time apart. Caraxes screeched loudly as people all flocked around, in an attempt to see their future Lady for the first time. Daemon was the first one to descend his dragon, followed by Rhaenyra and Rhaenys.

Lucerys all but clumsily fell off Arrax, his teeth chattering as Rhaena caught him with a hearty laugh after having climbed off Meleys. You chuckled at the sight, patting Vermithor as he attempted to acclimatize to the cold weather. He bowed down for you to descend him and Cregan's breath was caught in his throat as he all but wished to wrap you within his arms, but he knew better than to approach you with so many dragons around. Once you noticed your betrothed, a smile appeared on your face, and you dismissed the whispers around you as the people of Winterfell gawked at you.

Although everything within you screamed to jump into his arms as you had yearned to for months, you stepped closer to your family as it was your duty. "My princess," Cregan's eyes were filled with adoration, an uncommon sight for the people around him as Sara had to contain a very unladylike snort. Your eyes shimmered with what most people could only describe as tenderness as you gazed upon your betrothed. He greeted your family members respectfully and much to your delight they seemed to accept him quicker than you would have thought. It wasn't too far-fetched as they knew of how an honorable man he truly was and your continuous tales of how sweet he was certainly helped to get used to the thought of accepting him as your husband.

He stretched out his arm which you took happily, glad to hold him once more before he led you towards the hall where a feast would be held. Your grandfather and remaining family had shown up as well as the most notorious Lords such as Jason and Tyland Lannister and Otto Hightower. You took a seat at the head of the table, beside your betrothed with your cousin Baela on your other side as she squeezed your hand in support, a giddy smile on her face.

The meal was enjoyable as you conversed with Cregan and his half-sister, already quickly falling in place within the North. Your uncle Aegon had been drowning himself in his cups and once the time came for toasts you nervously fiddled with your rings. Cregan instantly took notice of this and encased them within his own calloused ones, you moved to sit closer to him, which he didn't oppose to. He gave you a loving smile that felt way more intimate than you had expected.

Viserys moved to stand, his cup raised as the table turned quiet, "A tribute to my dear granddaughter who is to be married to the honorable Cregan Stark. I wish your marriage good prosperity and demand that you visit your poor grandsire," he jested lightly, and a smile cracked on your face as you nodded at him, stroking your betrothed's hand underneath the table.

He placed a brisk kiss on your delicate hand before standing as well raising his glass, "Thank you, your Grace. I am incredibly honored to be the husband of my princess Y/n and shall vie to appease her every wish during our marriage. To my princess Y/n." Everyone at the table took a sip of their beverage, and you blushed under Cregan's gaze as a teasing grin tugged at his lips, his hand resting on your thigh.

"I wish to raise my cup to my cousin, princess Y/n," Baela declared. She glanced towards you, her eyes sparkling underneath the fires that illuminated the room before she spoke, "Although we haven't grown up together as children, I feel as though we are sisters. She has been the greatest comfort of mine when my late mother passed, and I believe there is not a finer woman in the Seven Kingdoms. To princess Y/n," you took a sip from your goblet, sending your cousin an appreciative look.

Sara hesitated for a second, as she technically wasn't supposed to be at the feast with her being commonly known as a bastard but upon seeing your reassuring smile she gathered the courage to stand, "I would like to toast to my half-brother, Lord Cregan," your betrothed seemed visibly surprised but remained quiet as he listened to what she had to say. "As many of you may know, he is an honorable man. Stern and oftentimes grim as he fulfills his duties to take care of his people. Though ever since he met princess Y/n all those moons ago, he has become more loving, and I have no doubt in mind that she has melted the cold ice that surrounded his heart, which I heartily thank her for."

You smiled widely at her words, turning to look at Cregan who was already watching you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. His face was free of any creases, an accomplishment in itself, and the warmth surrounding him seemed so inviting as you wished to be buried within his arms. At that moment, you conceded that you had truly found your own fairy tale. The feeling within you couldn't be described with mere words despite your wide vocabulary. The way that your beat for him was almost unorthodox, and you thought that if you could, you would truly have given the organ to him if he wished so.

"I raise my cup to my niece."

The words snapped you out of your daze as dread filled your senses. You quickly turned towards your uncle, Aegon who was shakily standing with the help of his mother after she had attempted to silence him. Your hand tightened around Cregan, the peaceful expression that graced his face long gone as he worried about you. He had heard rumors about your drunken uncle who bedded girls that weren't willing and ignored his poor sister-wife.

Rhaenyra let out a deep sigh, bringing a hand to rub her temple while Jace seethed from beside her. "I reminisce our years together with much fondness," he slurred, a hazy grin on his face as he gazed upon you. Cregan glared at him but remained silent, "I recall the day your mother had proposed our betrothal, and I was sad to learn that we would not be married. After all, I am sure that you will please your husband in various aspects though know that I am always ready to please you as well-" Alicent hissed at him, pulling him down while Viserys slammed his hand into the table angrily.

"Aegon!" You were absolutely mortified and Cregan had stood up, a vicious storm behind his eyes as he towered over the table. Your hand quickly reached for him, caressing his skin softly as you attempted to calm him with loving words. "It is alright, my love. Do not worry about me," you whispered to him, brushing his hair behind his ear. The remaining part of the meal went by smoothly though Cregan kept a close eye on your uncle and once the time came to return to your chambers he made sure no maids were anywhere near Aegon.

He walked you back to your chamber, placing a kiss on your cheek before you went to sleep. Come morn you awakened with much jitters, not having slept much as it was the morning of your wedding. Maids were rushing around you, opening the curtains to let the sun in, which, according to one of them was a sign of promising marriage. Your mother had entered your chamber not long after, expressing her wish to dress you herself, and you agreed with a smile.

You were sitting in a plush chair, already donning a deep red colored dress with black embroidered flowers. The sleeves dangled from your hands that rested upon the armrest while your mother stood behind you with her fingers in your hair, plaiting your silver hair delicately. You cast a glance towards the cloak that bore the Velaryon sigil, before returning your gaze to your reflection with a trembling sigh.

"Do not worry, sweet girl," your mother sent you a warm smile which always managed to soothe you whenever you were anxious. Her fingers skillfully braided the last loose strands, revealing an intricate Targaryen hairstyle that would represent your heritage partly. "Though I'm delighted to be marrying Cregan, I am sad that I will not see you as much mother," the words tumbled from your lips, so quiet that Rhaenyra had barely heard them. She let go of your hair, moving to stand in front of you before placing a warm hand on your cheek. Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she straightened your brows gently.

"We will visit as shall you," she promised, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your forehead as you closed your eyes. A knock echoed across the room, and you called for them to enter, only to reveal Jace, who would be the one to give you away. Since your father was dead, that duty passed onto him. "It is time," he declared, closing the door behind him as he decided to wait aside with a nod from Rhaenyra.

She offered you another motherly smile that you shakily returned before pulling yourself from the comfortable chair. The sleeves of your dress slipped into place as you smoothed the gown of any creases. You straightened as you noticed your mother holding the cloak you were to wear during the ceremony. She gently placed it upon your shoulders as its warmth engulfed you.

“You look beautiful,” the words lingered in your mind, and you gave your reflection one last glance before gradually turning to walk towards Jace. Your brother smiled at you, and you reciprocated the sentiment, wrapping your arm around his as he escorted you outside. The streets were barren as everyone had assembled by the Weirwood tree where the ceremony would take place. Your steps synchronized with your brother's while your mother had gone ahead.

“How are you feeling?” The inquiry made you look up from your feet, opening your mouth, yet no words came out, “Do not attempt to fool me, sister,” he grinned which loosened you up a bit. “I am happy, truly. I am a bit nervous, but I suppose anyone would be,” she hummed.

“Do you have any regrets about this union? If so, I will not hesitate to take you back to Dragonstone,” the statement brought a laugh out of you as you glanced at your brother. “I appreciate the offer but no, thank you.”

The walk had come to an end as you saw the mass of people awaiting your arrival. The two of you halted to let you ready yourself as Jace placed a kiss on the crown of your head. With a nod, you resumed the trek and people quieted down once they caught sight of you.

Cregan felt as though he might cry as he looked upon you.

You looked utterly heavenly. He could stare at you for hours on end without tiring of the sight, and suddenly the amount of people didn't matter anymore. The agonizing months he waited for you were all worth it. The unhurried steps you took towards him couldn't be any slower as he longed to hold you once more, to protect you from any harm that the world had to offer.

Your hand tightened around Jace's arm as you gazed at Cregan and you knew that you would never regret being with him. His dark hair was in his usual manner, but it fit him perfectly, and you longed to touch it. Once you reached the heart tree, you could only look at Cregan fearing that if you'd tear your eyes off him, you'll perish into a heap of nothingness.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Cregan had chosen his closest friend Lord Cerwyn as the officiator since he didn't have any male family left. “Y/n, of the House Velaryon and Targaryen, princess of the realm and heir to the Iron Throne, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, true-born and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” Jace spoke the words he had been rehearsing the entire week faultlessly, which made a sense of pride fill you. Cregan stepped forward, his shoulders broad as he looked down at you, eyes filled with adoration, “Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?”

If Daemon were to be truly honest he found the ceremony a bit bizarre but kept his mouth shut as he shot a glance at his wife who was watching on with watery eyes. “Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon and Targaryen, who is her brother.”

“Princess Y/n, do you take this man?” Your eyes spoke for themselves, and you didn't hesitate to speak the following words, “I take this man.” Cregan repressed the wide smile from spreading across his face, but you could simply tell how joyful he was by the shimmering in his darkened eyes. You gently unwind your arm from your brother's as you take a step forward, joining hands with Cregan who softly caressed your skin.

You two turn towards the Weirwood tree before kneeling. Your knee dug into the cold snow, and your skin lit on fire as you truly realised you were to be with your beloved Cregan for the rest of your days. You bowed your head as a token of submission, you think of a prayer but decided to keep it simple since you were still affiliated with the Valyrian believe. Prayers about the safety of your family were the first ones that came to mind, which were followed by prayers of a good marriage with healthy children. When time came you rose, not bothering to wipe the snow off your knees as you turned to face Cregan.

His hands move towards your shoulder, removing the cloak that held the Velaryon sigil before handing it to your brother who stood not too far from you. A shiver ran through your body at the loss of warmth, but it was quickly quelled by the fur coat that bore the sigil of House Stark. A deep breath escaped your tinted lips which caught Cregan's attention. His fingers rested under your chin as he tilted your face up gently before leaning down to capture your lips, sealing your life together.

Your fingers were nimbly holding his cloak, attempting to keep it as modest as possible. His lips were dry but soft, he breathed life into you as his nose pressed into your cheek. You wished to remain like this until your last days but retracted once you heard cheers from the crowd. When you separated, you could only describe yourself as breathless despite it being a timid kiss. The corners of Cregan's lips, which you had just kissed, tilted upwards at the sight of your mild pants. He glanced up at the abundance of people before returning his gaze to you with a teasing glint in his eyes. You furrowed your brows, a question hanging on the tip of your tongue, but before you ever got to ask anything he leaned down to carry you.

Your eyes widened as you hung in his arms, your knees dangling from his arm while his other one supported your back. Your arms had automatically wrapped around his neck, which moved your faces closer. His eyes held a warmth that never ceased around you as he looked up at you. “Have I told you yet how beautiful you look?” His brow raised as a teasing smirk graced his pretty features.

You wordlessly shook your head, still in some after-shock which only made him chuckle, “We are surrounded by so much beauty but nothing could ever compare to you.” The words made you giggle softly, hiding your face in the furs of his cloak in an attempt to hide your growing blush. Cregan couldn't express the pure love he held for you in that simple moment, so he resorted to placing a soft kiss to the side of your face.

“Are you two going to stay here forever?” Baela teased after most guests had moved towards the hall where a feast would be held. Lucerys was one of the first people to leave, nearly running to escape the harsh wind outside. Your husband nodded before carefully carrying you back towards your home.

The feast was a joyous event, spent by your family's side and opening gifts. You let out a gasp at the sight of a stack of books that were presented by Lady Arryn. “I do hope you enjoy these books that we had shipped from Dorne. They differ from ours greatly, so I reckoned that you have yet to read tales like these,” you thanked the woman earnestly, already reaching for one to show to your husband who nodded along, listening with much pleasure to the sound of your voice.

“I have a gift for you as well, my love,” he announced which made you perk up in your seat beside him. Sara quickly nodded, hurrying off to fetch your supposed gift as you questioned Cregan insistently which made him chuckle while caressing your hair gently. Your sister-in-law returned not long after, and the sight had you jumping out of your seat to meet her halfway. Your husband quickly followed, keeping a hand on the small of your back as he eyed your reaction carefully.

A tiny direwolf was placed into your arms that made you coo softly. You looked up at Cregan, your eyes sparkling with gratitude, before you leaned up to place a kiss on his lips. “Cregan, thank you so much. I wish I could give you a dragon in return, but unfortunately…" you trailed off with a sheepish smile which made him chuckle, moving to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder while looking down at the white wolf in your arms. The animal had quickly settled in your arms, content with the warmth you provided.

“Have you decided on its name yet?” He inquired as his breath tickled your skin in a delightful manner. You pondered for a moment, “Perhaps I should call him Laenor.” Cregan offered you a soft smile, kissing your cheek as a form of comfort.

“I see you have completely integrated already, dear cousin,” Rhaena jested, glancing at the direwolf curiously, which made you giggle. “I think it is time we retreat to our chamber, do you not Lady-wife?” Cregan's voice was low as he whispered the words into your ear, eager to get away from everyone to be with you in solitude. You blinked owlishly, nodding slowly before glancing back at your parents, who were already watching you with tender smiles. You returned the gesture, waving as best as you could with your direwolf in your arms before moving to leave with your husband.

The halls were mainly empty sans for the maids and guards, but you didn't pay them any mind as Cregan led you towards your shared chambers. Once you entered the large room you noticed that the fireplace had been lit in advance, but you didn't get the chance to explore your new apartments as Cregan tugged you towards the bed. You quickly paused to gently place Laenor on the rug that was placed in front of the hearth before returning to your husband's side. He was sitting on the side of the extensive bed that was piled with furs and covers which you already knew would feel heavenly.

You stood in front of your husband as he placed his hands on your waist before he lifted you to sit on his lap with your legs thrown on either side of him. “I could get used to this sight,” he chuckled, his hands moving across your back as you leaned down with a grin, “could you now, Lord-husband?”

He hummed, nose pressed against your neck as he placed kisses anywhere he could reach. A deep sigh left your nose as you closed your eyes, leaning your head back to give him more space to work with, which made him chuckle. Your fingers tangled between his hair as you had wished to do all day. Suddenly, you felt him scrape his teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck which nearly made you moan.

Your grip on his hair tightened, a resonant groan escaping his lips before he gently twisted for you to lay on the bed with him hovering above you. He gazed intensely into your eyes before leaning up to get rid of the clothing that was donned upon his upper body. Your fingers traced the muscles on his stomach softly before you leaned up to place kisses against his chest. “I cannot take this torture any longer, my love. I must know whether you want this as much as I do?” He gripped your head firmly, resting his forehead on yours while his nose bumped into yours.

“I do Cregan,” you swore, he let go of any restraint that he had left in him and passionately pressed his lips against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. A low moan escaped his lips, right into your mouth as you accidentally pressed your knee against his bulge that had formed beneath the layer of clothing.

And that night you discovered that there was no sound on earth that you loved more than his.

Years had flown by, and you remained with your husband, the love you two shared for one another never diminished. While you enjoyed your life greatly, you couldn't say that it was all easy. The winters were harsh, and you missed your family incredibly as you only managed to visit one another a handful of times.

The thing that was bothering you the most though was the fact that you still hadn't become pregnant. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying, as you couldn't remember a time when you hadn't been bedded for more than three days. Cregan wasn't too bothered by it, but you could tell that it was something that some people gossiped about. After all, you had to have at the very least two children, one for you as heir and one for Cregan. Your husband insisted that it didn't matter and that he was happy with you either way, but you couldn't stop the doubt from seeping in, especially not with the council hovering around you every second of the day.

“Perhaps she is infertile,” the Maester had suggested, which sent them into an uproar, asking what of the heir that was needed. Cregan quickly silenced them by slamming his fists into the table, a seething expression on his face as he defended his wife. “You shall not discuss this matter as if it involves any of you. You asked me to marry three years ago, and I did now stay out of my marriage.” This quickly shut their mouths, but it didn't manage to stop the whispers from spreading. While most didn't mean any harm, it didn't help with you to quell your worries as you sat in the bath motionlessly.

“My love?” Cregan called from the entrance, entering upon hearing your hum. His expression softened at the sight of your discouraged form, ridding himself of his clothes to join you. You moved forward so he could settle behind you before leaning back into his firm chest. He wrapped one of his arms around your waist whilst the other played with your silver hair lovingly. You simply chose to relish in the affections he provided you with.

“Do not worry, my love,” he mumbled, his words echoing in the empty room as you mindlessly nodded with your head resting on his shoulder. “I promise you I will put a child into you if that is what you truly wish for,” he swore, willing to do anything to please you, which made you smile gently. Your eyes sparkled with the pure adoration you held for your husband.

“I love you Cregan,” the usually solemn man softened, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek before returning the sentiment, “I love you as well, princess.” Your eyes flickered to meet his before you moved to sit in his lap, turning to face him while he watched with a raised brow.

As he had promised that night, you were pregnant, much to your elation.

The first thing you did when you found out was rush towards the dining hall where Cregan was eating, Laenor following you swiftly. Your husband looked up at the sound of your pants and fastened footsteps, putting his fork down as he slid his chair back. You all but leaped into his arms, a wide smile gracing your features as he watched on in disarray, but before he got the chance to question your odd behavior you cut him off.

“I am with child,” the words made him widen his eyes as he was truly shocked for once in his life, before a giant smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling from joy as he threw his arms around you. He got up from his chair, holding you up with ease as he kissed you with much vigor. You smiled into the kiss, tears of bliss slid down your cheeks that transferred onto his face, not that he minded.

Cregan gently placed you back down to your feet, his hand immediately reaching for your stomach, even though there wasn't anything visible yet. “Aye, I promised you didn't I,” he grinned which made you roll your eyes before you leaned up to place another kiss on his lips.

That evening you wrote to your family, joyful to announce the news of your pregnancy, while Cregan spread the word to his council and friends. You truly couldn't be happier at that moment. Once news of your pregnancy reached both King's Landing and Dragonstone your mother insisted on coming, wishing to be there for the birth of her first grandchild. You and Cregan were glad to welcome her back, along with Jacaerys and Baela who had wanted to come as well. Daemon had expressed his wish to be there with you, but someone had to stay back on Dragonstone. Lucerys had preferred to stay home as well as he couldn't stand the cold and Rhaena chose to remain by her betrothed's side, but they made you promise to visit with your child as soon as you recovered.

At first, the pregnancy went by fine, you had expected the morning sickness as your mother had described. It was only after the first three months that your bump finally began to show, much to Cregan's delight. He had often found his place directly behind you with his hands resting on your stomach, to protect you and your unborn child from any harm.

Though after the first trimester had passed, had you begun to feel worse. You were frequently challenged by abdominal pains and high temperatures which baffled your mother as she had never gotten such symptoms so early on which in turn sent Cregan spiraling up to the point that you were appointed to bed six months into your pregnancy. The Maester had claimed that everything was fine, that you were simply having slightly different symptoms than most women, but it didn't quell your family's concerns.

It was around the seventh month that Rhaenyra, Baela, and Jacaerys remained permanently glued to your side as you suffered the painful aches. They wished to assist you ease the pain in any way they could but once you passed the safe amount of Milk of the Poppy, you couldn't take any other medicine if you did not want to harm your child. Jacaerys had pressed on, stating that it was better that you took the medicine, but you refused which frustrated Cregan. Your husband had desired to be by your side as much as your family members, but he still had to rule over Winterfell.

Your water broke a month too early. You had been lying in front of the hearth on the sofa with Laenor resting his head on your legs when the contractions started. A cry left your lips, quickly alerting your mother who was sitting not too far from you while embroidering a blanket for her future grandchild. She shot up, her eyes furrowed as she lifted your dress only to see dried blood coating it.

Her eyes widened in terror, glancing over to Baela and Jace, “Call for the midwives and Cregan! Y/n has started her labors!” She then shooed your direwolf away, which made him scowl, but he listened when you softly ordered him to make place for your mother. Jace nodded, his eyes broad in panic before rushing outside while Baela hurried to Rhaenyra's side as they attempted to help you sit up properly. “How can this be? She is supposed to give birth in one moon!” Rhaenyra couldn't find a reply as she attempted to hush your worries.

“It seems that she has started her early labor,” the older woman muttered, caressing your cheek comfortingly as sweat started to form on your forehead. “Where the fuck is Jace?” Baela hissed, already sitting beside you to hold you tightly.

The prince was running around, much to the confusion of the people around him, but he couldn't register anything as he searched for your husband. He had already called for a maid to get the midwives before starting his search for the Lord of Winterfell. Eventually, he managed to find the solemn man outside, training knights in the courtyard with his sword. “Lord Stark!” Jace's shouts startled the surrounding men, but he set his sights on your husband, who watched on in confusion as your brother rushed towards him.

“Prince Jacaerys what-” “Y/n has started her labors!” Cregan's eyes widened as his breath hitched. He didn't waste a second as he pushed past his brother-in-law, running quickly to reach your side faster. When he burst into the room, he noticed that you had been moved towards your shared bed while midwives were scurrying around. Your mother was seated by your side, attempting to calm you while Baela was arguing with the Maester for some Gods-forsaken reason.

Cregan discarded his cloak and sword on the rug, kneeling by your bedside, while you looked up at him with a fatigued smile. “You came,” the words came out more hoarse than you had wanted, but your husband simply brushed some straying hairs from your sticky forehead, placing a quick kiss on the side of your head. “Of course I came,” his eyes were drowning in concern as he looked around, trying to find an answer as to why you were forced to give birth so early on.

He clasped his hand around yours, squeezing it tightly to give you some form of comfort. Jace had returned as well by now and decided to join the argument between Baela and the Maester despite not having a clue what it was about. A chuckle left you at the sight before a pained whine escaped your lips. Cregan grabbed a piece of cloth, moistening it before gently dabbing it on your face, only hoping that it relieved you in some kind of way.

Hours were spent that way and no one had wanted to leave your side, refusing when the Maester had said it could take a couple of hours, even days at most. Cregan had simply snapped at him, ignoring the ache in his knees as he remained seated by your side. During those hours, you had changed positions numerous times, but eventually, you returned to rest on your back once the substantial pain had started.

Your breathe fastened even more than it already had, and your grip on Cregan tightened. Your eyes turned towards your mother as you opened your mouth to speak for the first time in a while, “I need to push.” The words sent the room into a frenzy as midwives positioned themselves between your legs.

“You have to hold back, Princess!” One of them called, to which you let out a loud groan. “Everything will be fine, my love. You can do this,” your husband mumbled. Tears left your eyes as you prayed for this pain to end already. “Have you thought of names yet?” Baela questioned in an attempt to distract you for a while longer. You glanced at your husband, and he nodded reassuringly before you turned back to face your cousin with a wavering smile, “Rhaenor for a boy and Daenara for a girl.”

“A Targaryen name?” Rhaenyra smiled warmly as Cregan nodded, “We thought it would only be appropriate for the future heir.” Your family sat around you which warmed your heart, but the feeling quickly vanished at a particularly agonizing contraction.

“Push!” The midwife called, your hand tightened around Cregan's as you screamed out. It seemed like there would never be an end to it as the cries ripped from your throat. “You are doing incredible, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra tried, but you completely ignored her as you sobbed. “Get it out! Fuck!” Your nails sunk into Cregan's hand, but he remained steady as he whispered sweet words into your ear. You would have thought that after almost an hour of endless screaming your voice would have become hoarse, but it seemed like it only turned louder.

“I can see the head!” Baela was assisting the midwife as you wailed. “Just get it fucking out of me!” You shouted angrily and with one last push, the baby fell into your cousin's awaiting arms. “You did. You've done so well, my love,” Cregan placed kisses upon your sweaty forehead as you let a weak smile appear on your face. Leaning into your husband's arms while Baela helped the midwives clean your baby.

“I am so proud of you, sweet girl,” your mother grasped your hand softly, and you nodded thankfully at her, choosing to remain in Cregan's muscular arms. “It is a boy, sister,” Jace announced with much excitement, as a wide smile appeared on your face. Cregan couldn't contain his delight as he pressed yet another kiss against your lips. “Rhaenor,” you mumbled already wishing to hold your son when a familiar pain abruptly hit you again.

You threw your head back against your husband's chest as a cry left your lips. Rhaenyra immediately jumped up while the midwife attempted to reassure you all by clarifying that it was most likely the placenta, but you shook your head. “I feel like I must push again,” you managed to get out before another scream ripped from your throat. Your husband watched on in disarray but refused to even step away from you as he hugged you closer, your arms wrapped around his as you tried to stabilise yourself.

A gasp made you look up with worry only to find Baela smiling, “Another babe.” Cregan's eyes widened while you smiled feebly, genuinely ecstatic that you would have twins. Your mother returned to your side, holding your hand as you sobbed into your husband's chest.

Fortunately, this time it went by a lot quicker and not long after you were already pushing out another baby. Your cousin was once more ready to catch your second child whilst Jace held Rhaenor in his arms, attempting to soothe his nephew lovingly. As you made the final push a sigh of relief left your lips before looking over at Baela, eyes curious to see your second child.

“Another boy,” you pressed a kiss to Cregan's throat, melting into his hold as you attempted to stay awake to see your sons. “What will you name him?” Jace questioned, an expression of pure joy spread across his face whilst you pondered for a second. You glanced up at your husband who was staring lovingly at you before you decided, “Ned.”

Rhaenyra raised a brow as well as Cregan. “Ned you say?” Her mother tried out the name which made you giggle quietly, “Short for Eddard.” Your husband tilted your face to look up at him, and you grinned at his astonished expression, kissing his cheek sweetly while he caressed your face, “A Northern name? I quite like it,” Jace grinned, glancing over at Ned in Baela's arms whilst he held Rhaenor, waiting for you to properly unwind. “Thank you, my love,” Cregan's reply to it all made you laugh softly, but you kissed him nonetheless mumbling something against his lips, only for his ears to hear.

The midwife smiled at the cheerful family and moved your dress to prepare you for the placenta that was yet to come when a frown appeared on her face. “What is it?” Rhaenyra inquired as she noticed the worrisome expression that the woman wore. She ushered your mother towards her quietly but Cregan had caught sight of yet another issue. Rhaenyra approached, fear settling in her gut as she could only pray nothing was wrong with you.

“Why is there so much blood?” She whispered, her eyes wide at the gruesome sight in front of her. “I believe she suffers a hemorrhage,” the words sent fear spiking into Rhaenyra as she could only remember her own mother before she turned to the midwife, a frantic look in her eyes. “Will- will she survive?” The words were barely able to leave her lips when yet another whine escaped your lips.

Cregan looked around with wide eyes, wondering what was transpiring around him as he tried to soothe you while glancing at your mother. She panicked and looked back under your dress along with the midwife who gasped loudly which caught the attention of everyone else. “What now?” An angry groan made its way out of you as your fingers clenched around your husband's hand that held you tightly. “I believe you are to have a third child!”

Your eyes widened, and your mouth fell slack at the news, rapidly looking up at Cregan who was just as dumbfounded, but he attempted to pull himself together for your sake, “It is alright, my love. You can do this.” Baela and Jace helplessly stood beside the bed, holding your children while you screamed relentlessly, pushing a third child out.

“What is wrong with you? Putting three fucking children into me at once!” You angrily yelled at your husband who only chuckled, nodding along while remaining oblivious to what was happening. “What will this mean for her?” Rhaenyra hissed, continuously glancing up to check on you while the midwife shook her head. “We cannot know but at this moment anything is a high risk.”

“Can we stop this birth then? Will it benefit her?” Your mother was desperate now, willing to do anything to keep you as the older woman beside her shook her head. “There is nothing we can do now.” The words absolutely mortified Rhaenyra and when your third child finally left your body she had quickly handed it to another maid before rushing to your side.

“Mother-?” The woman quickly shushed you, caressing your soaked hair with trembling hands as tears gathered in her eyes. You turned fearful at her odd behavior and Cregan tightened his hold on you. “What is it?” He hissed, your cousin and brother approaching with confusion lacing their expressions, but Rhaenyra disregarded them all as she kept her grasp on you, “You have done so well. I love you, sweet girl.” You glanced down, eyes wide in horror as you finally noticed the amount of blood. Cregan held in his tears as a lump rose in his throat, his hold only tightening around you as he attempted to convince himself that if he held you, you wouldn't be able to leave him. “What is the meaning of this?” Jace furiously asked while keeping his hold on his nephew gentle.

“Princess, you must push one last time. To get the placenta out. It is necessary,” you nodded shakily, closing your eyes as you collected all your strength to push yet again. Sobs raked your body violently until suddenly you felt dizzy, the world around you turning dark while sounds faded. A loud sob came from Rhaenyra as she hugged your body, praying for anyone to save her precious daughter, but it seemed like no God was interested in keeping you alive.

Cregan stared on in shock, his quivering hand moving to your neck only not to feel a pulse. He took your face into his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks as he shook your head. “Y/n? Wake up,” his voice cracked. Jace’s knees buckled as he fell onto the floor, his eyes bright red while he buried Rhaenor in his arms. His betrothed gasped, tears falling as she loudly cried at the sight of your limp, bloodied body that was held by your mother and husband.

The midwife felt her eyes brim with tears, but she swiftly turned to inform the Maester of the news. She opened the door and the old man looked on questioningly as he heard loud sobs emit from the room. “What is the matter?” He questioned as she closed the door behind her to let the family grieve the loss of the princess. “Princess Y/n has passed,” the words startled the man as he furrowed his brows, bowing his head in respect. “What of the child?” The question hung in the air for a while before the woman replied sorrowfully.

“Princess Y/n has given birth to two sons and a daughter,” the man's eyes widened, triplets were extremely rare and mothers barely ever made it out alive during those labors. He nodded absentmindedly, processing the news, “I shall inform the council.”

Letters were quickly written to spread the news across the realm before they announced the passing of their Princess to the residents of Winterfell with much despair and regret. The people cried out for their Lady, participating in their Lord's mourning, and made offerings to your dragon Vermithor who had been restless. The ravens reached their destinations swiftly and left an impact on the Lords and Ladies of the realm who had remembered you as a lively soul.

“An urgent letter has arrived from Winterfell, your grace,” Ser Erryk declared, as the King nodded motioning for him to read it out loud while he continued eating. He had been one of the people most overjoyed of the news of your pregnancy and couldn't wait to meet his great-grandchild. Alicent placed her utensils down, glancing at her father and children before turning to her husband, “It must be from Princess Y/n.”

“Is she not due for another month?” Otto wondered out loud which caught the attention of his grandchildren as they all watched on in wonder.

“With much pride we can announce that Princess Y/n has given birth to triplets,” Aegon choked on his wine while Aemond simply raised a brow. “That certainly explains the early labour,” Otto mumbled.

“Her firstborn is a son named Rhaenor Stark, her second born is yet another son named Eddard Stark and her third born is a daughter named Daenara Stark. Unfortunately, we must announce that our dear Princess Y/n has passed during her labours.” Ser Erryk's eyes widened at the last part but remained quiet as the news settled within the royal family.

Colour drained from the King's face as he abruptly stood up, his eyes moist with tears as he lost yet another woman in his life due to childbirth and stormed out of the dining hall. Alicent let out a shaky breath, quickly praying for her step-granddaughter while her father sighed deeply not heartless enough not to pity the poor girl. Helaena cried loudly before she too rushed out of the room to find comfort with her own children.

Aegon rubbed a hand over his face, as he recalled the last time he saw you. He grabbed the wine pitcher, not glancing back as he left to drown himself in his drinks with you in his memory. The younger prince watched on with furrowed brows, he wasn't fond of you, and yet, he felt a tug at his heartstrings at the thought of you. Perhaps somewhere deep down within him, he did care for you, the early days of your childhood you spent together instead of with your brothers who enjoyed teasing you for the lack of dragons.

The castle was glum that day, both the Royals and commoners mourning the loss of their dear princess.

The funeral preparations started early on with Daemon insisting that you should be buried like a Targaryen, while Cregan fought back, wishing for your body to remain in Winterfell.

“She is a Targaryen!” Daemon roared, his hair sticking to the back of his neck as he fought with the other men while Lucerys was weeping in his mother's arms. “She is my wife! I do not see the point of arguing over this with you,” Cregan seethed, his hair had grown out longer than he'd like, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. “She is also a Velaryon!” Corlys butted in, which made the two angrily turn to him. Viserys pinched his brows together, his head aching from all this screaming and arguing, “I have had enough of this! She shall have a Targaryen funeral in Winterfell.”

Daemon seemed pleased with this while Cregan clenched his fists together as he had wanted to bury you. He wished to have the ability for your children to visit your grave when they were older, but now they didn't even have that privilege. “Now, I want to see my great-grandchildren,” the King sighed, as the Northman hadn't shown anyone his children.

“Yes, I would like to see them as well,” Daemon agreed, moving to stand closer with his family which consisted of Rhaenyra, Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena. Cregan reluctantly nodded, his face unmoving as it had been for weeks before he departed the room to get his children, knowing his wife would have wanted for her family to meet them. As he entered their chamber, he let out a shaky breath, placing his hands on the back of a chair in support as he tried to keep his tears at bay. When knocks echoed through the room he quickly straightened and turned his face solemn only to see Jace. “I thought I could help carry them.”

Cregan simply nodded, walking over to the cradles where his three children laid. His eyes softened at the sight of them before reaching down to take Rhaenor into his arms. He was gentle with them which was so unlike him ever since you passed. Jace handed him his daughter into his free arm before reaching to hold Ned carefully. The babies gurgled, pulling at their father and uncle's hair as they sauntered back in silence.

The Targaryen and Velaryon family turned towards them as they entered the room, the King immediately reached for Rhaenor with a warm smile. “Who might this be?” He questioned, caressing the boy's cheek with his finger carefully while Alicent looked over his shoulder. She quickly took notice of his silver hair that resembled yours but raised her brow at his grey eyes which he got from his father along with all his other features. “That is Rhaenor,” Cregan reluctantly handed his daughter over to Daemon who had moved to grab her and chuckled at Daenara, placing a kiss on her chubby cheeks as she giggled. She had been born with your violet eyes and her father's dark hair.

“This must be little Ned,” Corlys grinned, as his wife held the baby. He was an odd case in their opinion, he ended up with violet eyes, but his hair was dark brown with streaks of silver hair. Cregan kept a close eye on all of them, making sure nothing happened to the babies, who were the only things left of you. “We must place dragon eggs in their cradles!” Viserys exclaimed, his eyes turning towards his daughter and cousin who both nodded.

“Luke, Rhaena would you like to pick them out?” Rhaenys questioned as Rhaenyra was quietly staring at her grandchildren with a heartbroken expression. The two nodded before hurrying off as Daemon glanced around, deciding whether to enrage the Northman or not. “Lord Stark does not know how to take care of a dragon. Especially not three. I suggest they come live with us for the time being,” Rhaenyra was silent as she reached to hold Daenara, holding her close as her eyes watered while Cregan glared harshly at the prince.

“No.”

Alicent pondered over it for a while before she piped up as well, “Think about it, Lord Stark. You had only been prepared to take care of one babe, but now you have three. You have no previous experience, and you do not have your wife to assist you. Then there is the matter of the three dragons as well do you truly think it would be best for them to stay here? Perhaps they could stay with us for some time, one in Driftmark, one in King's Landing and one on Dragonstone?” Cregan wouldn't hear of it, shaking his head furiously and Rhaenys could truly sympathize with him, but it was clear that he would need assistance.

“My children will stay with me, in Winterfell. I will take care of them and if you worry so much about the dragons, then you may come and help with them. But that is final, they are staying here,” it was clear that there was no room for any discussion so they decided to indulge themselves in the babes for a while before Cregan would take them back.

The funeral took place two days later, near the snow covered forest. Cregan had hardened his face, holding Ned in his arms, while Daenara was with Rhaenyra and Rhaenor in Jace's arms. He wore black furs and numbly stared at your body that was placed further away. Vermithor roared loudly, distressed with yet another rider of his dying, but the Northman paid no mind to him. It had been decided that the bronze fury would remain in Winterfell, in case that one of your children's eggs wouldn't hatch they could try to claim Vermithor.

Jace cleared his throat, as he had been the one that was appointed to lead the ceremony. He took a final breath before saying the dreaded words, “Dracarys.”

Vermithor roared once more, hesitating for a moment before flames engulfed your body. Cregan closed his eyes, his heart aching at the sight and pulled his son closer to him. He promised you that he would take good care of your children so you could be proud of them.

Years blurred into one another and while it was hard for Cregan, he always tried for his children who loved him relentlessly. The four Starks often visited the crypts where Cregan had a statue build for you and even whenever Rhaenyra and her family visited they would always stop by the statue with sorrowful expressions.

Throughout the years Jace had been named heir which retracted Rhaenor's claim which meant that he would be Lord of Winterfell one day. The eldest boy didn't mind it, preferring to stay with his father as he was clearly a Northern by heart. His egg had hatched first revealing a surprisingly calm swarthy blue dragon. Daenara's egg came out as well but was slightly harder to control as it was a rather energetic white dragon. The only egg that hadn't come out was Ned's but once he was old enough he had managed to claim Vermithor.

The council had suggested numerous times that he remarry but they couldn't use the excuse of heirs anymore as he had plenty of them. Cregan adamantly refused, he didn't care for it and stated that he would remain faithful to his first and only wife and so he did, eventually passing with his children by his side and a lasting ache etched into his heart.

the end © ioaezz, 2024.

[perseusthetwinkie]

Yes!! Scott Summers is the leader of the X-Men. His code name is Cyclops. His mutant ability is to blast concussive beams from his eyes, but he can’t control it, so he wears the sunglasses. The sunglasses are made out of ruby quartz(?) which supposedly blocks the force from his eyes.

A big key part of who Scott is comes from this disability. He can’t take off his rose tinted glasses, which means he loses a lot of color, shape, and value when he’s able to see. A lot of what makes Scott himself is the way he responds to anti-mutant rhetoric. While that’s a main theme of the X-Men anyways, Scott can’t hide his abilities like, say, Jean Grey or Charles Xavier. Scott has to wear his glasses at all times, and this makes it incredibly easy to single him out as a mutant.

He’s from Alaska originally, but he ended up orphaned after the private warplane he and his family were flying on was attacked by aliens called the Shi’Ar. His mother and father were abducted, and he was left with his younger brother to find help.

Eventually, they were taken in by this orphanage that was a cover for one of the most bastard of bastards. His name is Dr. Nathan “Sinister” Essex, and he experiments on mutants in attempt to create the “perfect species”. He’s basically a eugenicist. (There’s a lot of that in the classic X-Men— it’s a struggle.)

Sinister isolates Scott from his little brother Alex once his mutation begins to arise. Now the interesting thing about Scott is that, had he not suffered head trauma from falling out of a plane with a faulty parachute, he would be able to control his optic blasts. Scott canonically has brain trauma that directly affects his optic nerves and likely other areas of his development. Thusly, if Sinister is able to find a mix of Scott’s DNA and another powerful mutant, his belief is that he can create the ultimate mutant.

Scott is Sinister’s guinea pig for a long time. There are several versions of how he escapes, but I believe the most modern iteration is that the telepathic Charles Xavier reached out to him and offered to bring him to safety where he could learn to hone his abilities.

This is the true beginning of the X-Men and where most people tend to focus on.

Now it’s hard to be a Scott fan in the year of our lord 2024— everyone hates him for various reasons. Most of it is poor characterization and framing of certain activism tactics as “uncouth”, “unacceptable”, or “terroristic”. I’m not here to say that everything Scott has ever done is right, but I’m also here to say that there is so much more to Scott than being Professor Xavier’s lapdog.

Scott has always been described as the perfect balance between Charles Xavier and Magneto, the main mutant opponent of the X-Men. Both men are mutant supremacists, but their beliefs and ideas on how a perfect mutant-led world should look are very different. Magneto differs to dangerous and genuinely terroristic alternatives, whereas Charles tends to work with the government in an attempt to reach legal mutant equality (and let many a mutant die in the crossfire.) both men are idealists with very unrealistic expectations of what the world should look like.

(My good friend percyandseven has a rant on this in the works, so I’m not going to delve too deeply into Charles and Magneto here, but know that if this interests you, you’ll find more there.)

Scott, however, is a realist. He works as both a teacher and trainer at the Xavier School for Gifted Children and as the field leader of the X-Men. He is a very thorough and realistic war leader, and he has seen some of the worst happen to some of the best people. There’s a lot to delve into and a lot I don’t know— most of my knowledge comes from modern comics and the Claremont run, so I lost a bit of context later on— but it gets to a point where he sees that what he’s been taught is an ineffective way to protest and protect his people, who are under constant threat of extinction.

A lot of how Scott handles things is blown out of proportion by the X-Men in modern issues of the comics. He works in the middle of the more pacifistic and defensive X-Men and the more aggressive and offensive Brotherhood in order to reach a more cohesive and safe future.

In modern years, his character has been split in two— a ruthless, emotionless suck up to Charles, and the Spawn Of Satan Who Is Irredeemable And Unequivocally Merciless. Never mind that part of what makes Scott a great leader is his ability to empathetically connect with his team to the point of his teammates trusting him to have their best interest in mind. Never mind that Scott has been in the same situation as many disowned or orphaned mutants and would never want to endanger or leave a mutant child behind.

There’s so much more I’m missing because I haven’t even touched Corsair, Cable, Krakoa, Fall of the House of X, or ANY of the Jean Grey stuff, but I have so many thoughts about Scott as a minority member and the vilification of him. He isn’t perfect and he is totally fallible. In fact, he should be scrutinized and his actions shouldn’t be brushed over. But he also isn’t mutant Hitler, as many people seem to believe. He isn’t a suck up to the man who raised him, and he isn’t a pretentious asshole… on purpose.

I have so much to say about him and this isn’t even the tip of the iceberg, but it’s all I can think of to talk about right now. I love him so much

I don’t know how to use tumblr but I have ocs, Robins, and Scott Summers to talk about and I’ll be damned if the Big Tumble silences me

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

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Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl 

[graphicabyss]

Beren and Luthien - a very bad retelling

I've been exhausted from reading and writing about the war so as a form of escapism, I turned back to exploring Tolkien. And I have endless respect for him and his work but also some stories have left me with very mixed feelings. Most of all, Beren and Luthien. So much so, that I felt like writing it down. Don't hate me, I'm just being real here.

Ok, so... it's a story of a great love between a man and an elven princess. It's the one Aragorn sings in LOTR because it's so oddly relatable. And the two had some pretty cool adventures with werewolves, vampires, magic, shapeshifting, giant speaking dog … but it's really all about love. Love at first sight. Almost. The dude was stalking her for some time. In fact, he was a really committed stalker as he spent nearly a year just watching her. Because he was under an 'enchantment', of course. Right.

Must be nice to be an elven princess. She be pretty, wise, powerful and eternally young. Flowers spring beneath her feet, birds sing. Basically, she's an elven Disney Princess. Actually, she's more than an elven princess. She's half-Maya, which is sort of semi-angelic. And her father is Elu Thingol, the elven king, so both her parents are immortal. And she's literally older than the sun. Talk about unrealistic ideals.

Meanwhile, Beren was all tired and messed up from a really long wandering when he met Luthien in the woods. And of course Beren is not some regular dude, he's a cool hero and an heir of a noble lineage. So even tho he looks like a hobo, she still sees him for the cool hero that he is. Wonder why it's never the other way round...

Anyway, when she does really see him, she falls in love too. It says "doom fell upon her, and she loved him". Yeeahh. And that's where Tolkien loses me already. Like, sir, you expect me to believe this 3k+ year old chick was just hanging around till this 30 yo baby came and then she gave up on her parents, her people, and eventually her life and immortality for this one dude she just met?

Apparently, yes. So they meet in secret from her parents for a few months because apparently 3k old is as good as a teenager. But this elf dude, Daeron, who had a crush on Luthien, told her father all about it. And that's not cool but also I can't blame him? He probably spent like a thousand years wooing Luthien in a steady pace and then she does this? So Beren has to go to the city Menegroth and meet the parents and as expected, it does not go well.

First off, her father is furious at him coming into his realm where men are not welcome to begin with. Also, the dude is 4k+ years old and 2,5 m tall. Luthien makes her daddy swear he would not hurt her new boo. So he's like, "Suuuure." And then he comes up with a great idea to sell his daughter's hand in marriage for a Silmaril. Which is this super-awesome gem that was at the time sitting in a crown of the Dark Lord. Not Sauron tho, he was still a minion then, the dude was called Morgoth. But yeah, Beren was supposed to get into the hellish realm, past all the orcs and monsters, get to the throne room, and steal one of the 3 gems from Morgoth's crown. So, basically, Elu expected Beren to either give up or die.

Sure, that was kind of a dick move on his part. But like, you gotta admit, the man did not spend 3k year raising his only daughter to marry a baby. And you'd think Elu would be a little more understanding. I mean, he and his wife also had an age gap. He was 80 years tops when he met her and she was... well, as old as the world. Literally. The difference is though that he was immortal so now it's been like 4k years of their happy marriage.

Ok, not gonna lie, I am partial to Elu. Might have something to do with the fact The Hobbit movies's Thranduil was mostly based on him. In my headcanon, baby Thranduil lived in Menegroth and looked up to cool uncle Elu. Anyway.

Beren actually has balls and he takes the challenge saying "'For little price do Elven-kings sell their daughters". Cocky little shit. And he leaves. Tho he isn't dumb enough to go to Angband on his own. No, he uses his ring to invoke an oath his old man got from the other elves. And maybe that's just me, but I'd imagine an oath like this is best utilized at a critical time. Idk, like a war or a threat of immediate death. Not a suicide mission to get the approval of your gf's dad. Not to Beren, I guess, because he drags these 11 elves, including their king into this mess.

So Beren and the 11 elves obviously end up in some shit. They use magic to pretend to be orcs but run into Sauron. And at the time, Sauron had a bit of a goth phase coz he hung out at this fortress on an island with his band of werewolves and a vampire. The Elf king and Sauron have an epic song battle and Sauron wins. All 12 are captured and imprisoned. Also, there are very hungry werewolves.

As for Luthien, she learns that her boo got into real trouble and she decides she needs to save his ass. Except she tells Daeron - not very smart since the dude already snitched on her and... he does it again. So her father imprisons her in a cool tree tower to prevent her from doing anything stupid. Ha! She ain't no damsel. She's not gonna sit around and wait. So she uses some of her elven magic and pulls a Rapunzel - grows out her hair and uses it to escape. She also makes an invisible clock from the rest of it.

Except the forests are full of creeps. She meets these two elven princes who seem alright but are actually absolute dicks and tells them all about her mission. Pretty naive for a 3k year old tbh. So they are like, "it's ok, girl, come to our place, chill and we'll help you". And she does. And they take her home and they lock her up. Which btw is the same place where Beren came before and borrowed their king. They plan to usurp the power and keep the girl. Luckily, the creeps are not alone, they also have a very good boy with them - a giant dog Huan who helps her escape.

Meanwhile, Beren and the elves are being questioned and since they don't snitch, they get eaten, so it's just him and the elf king left. And in the end, the elf king goes berserk and kills the werewolf but dies too. Btw, he's Galadriel's brother. Yeah, the one in RoP. So Sauron kind of killed him I guess? But I'd personally blame Beren maybe? Anyway… all the elves are dead. And Beren would be too if it weren't for his awesome girlfriend with her new friend. Huan the dog ripped all the werewolves until finally Sauron turned into one and he beat him too except Luthien decided to be merciful for some reason and ordered to release him? Really, girl?? So Sauron tuned into a vampire and flew away to live in a forest so he misses all the fun of the next hundred years or so.

Ok, so now Beren and Luthien are together again. And it only cost them the lives of 11 elves, ahem. Anyway, at this point the two can just be like "screw it!" and just live as is. I mean, c'mon, how long the guy gonna live? 40 years? Her parents will barely notice. But no, he's a man of honor. He needs to fulfill his oath so he goes on.

There's also another run-in with the dick elven bastards who try to steal his girlfirend and stab him. After some action movie realness, Beren gains a horse and a dagger but also an arrow to the boob. But Luthien uses some of that sweet elven healing magic so he's fine. The next thing he does tho is ride off leaving her with the huge dogge. To keep her safe, you know. What a dumbass. Of course, she catches up with him, but not before using more elven magic to turn herself and her dogge into the vampire and werewolf.

And once they catch up with Beren, is it the dogge that speaks. And that dogge is only allowed to speak 3 times in his whole life so must he pretty fucking done with the dude. And it gives him a piece of its mind and he finally gets it so the dogge leaves and two two lovebirds continue on their totally realistic mission.

And they get to Angband, which sometimes translates to Iron Hell - very metal! - and they about to sneak in when they meet another giant werewolf. You see, Morgoth had a pretty sick werewolf breeding program and made the ultimate wolf unit. He smells something fishy about them. But Luthien is a badass so she basically just boops the bad boy to sleep and they go on.

So they descend all the way into the throne room with Morgoth in his iron crown. He looks at the elven princess and has the hots for her. And what she does is she sings him to sleep. And the dude must have needed it badly because he collapses like a sack. So this is Beren's cue to take the shiny. And he actually manages to get one Silmaril out of the crown. BUT he decides "might as well" and tries to get another out. And his blade breaks and wakes the Dark Lord. Whoops.

So they flee but before they make it out of Angband, they meet the same wolf unit. And Luthien can't repeat the trick coz she used up all her sleeping magics. Beren sorta threatens the beastie with the Silmaril in his hand... and yup, he bites it off. Bad boy! The Silmaril is protected by a spell that burns the bad guys who take it so the wolf unit is not ok. He goes mad from pain and runs the land.

Still, at this point Beren and Luthien are basically fucked. Beren's got no Silmaril and no hand. It is only thanks to his magical girlfriend that he even survives. But then, very conveniently, the giant eagles show up and carry them away.

So now they're back where they started. Except, you know, minus one hand. And they could just decide to fuck it and go live in the woods or whatever but there's the issue of honour and bla bla blah. So they return to Menegroth.

Except, Luthien apparently did not think to leave a note. Or, idk, send a bird to let her parents know she's alive and also maybe warn them about the crazy giant wolf roaming about? Because that motherfucker is now on the loose roaming the woods and chewing the elven scouts. So Beren and Luthien finally show up like "yeah... about that."

So Beren goes before the king again to report. And he says something really cunning. He's like "You see, sir, you asked me to bring the Silmaril in my had and technically, it's there." Like, sure, you'd think the hand would be attached to the man but you can't have everything. BUT good news! that hand is actually making its way to Menegroth. And I love that Thingol's like "Fair enough. You're a sneaky little shit. Respect." And he allowed him to marry his daughter.

And all's well except there's still the little issue of the giant murderous wolf in the woods. So they set up a little hunting party of 3 coolest elves, including Thingol, good boy Huan and Beren. And like, I get the guy is responsible for that little nuisance but he just lost his hand?

Long story short: they find the wolf and the wold leaps at the king. Beren saves him but gets bitten. Huan slays the wolf but dies. They cut his belly and find the Silmaril so naturally, they give it to Beren so he passes it to Thingol so his quest is complete. And then the dude dies. Well, that was anticlimactic.

He sacrificed himself to save his gf's dad. And Elu was, like, "my bad, he was ok." Except Beren is dead now. Well, not actually dead but dying. So they bring his body back and Luthien cries over him and just before he dies she tells him to wait for her. Aren't elves immortal tho? Well, yea, if they wish to be. And being the strong heroine that she was, Luthien decides to just die and meet him in the purgatory, basically. After just an hour she just goes "Screw you, mom, dad, everyone else I supposedly loved for the past 3 thousand years. My life has no meaning without this stud." And she dies.

But that's not all. The place is called The Halls of Mandos where souls hang out waiting for judgement. And this guy Mandos is supposed to be completely unmovable and indifferent to pleas and appeals like a damn TVA. But turns out the dude just never heard a good enough tune. Because Luthien sings him this really sad and epic song and he is so damn impressed he goes to his boss and they decide to give Luthien a choice: either go live with the gods and know no sorrow OR be resurrected along with Beren and live like a mortal. Duh.

So obviously she chooses the second. Who cares she can never reunite with her family or her people in death anymore? The two of them are resurrected and back at Doriath. But soon they leave to live the rest of their lives in peace. And scene.

So let me get this straight: the two fucked all of the shit up, died and then once they were resurrected, they were just like "bye, bitches!" and left everyone to deal with Morgoth? And they're credited with proving that Morgoth is not invincible and stuff but like, they weren't planning on it, it was not their goal.

And lots of shit happens thereafter. Luthien's hot father gets murdered by the dwarves, which is how the whole elf/dwarf beef really started, her city gets plundered and her mother returns to the divine realm leaving her home without magical protection. But it's not a part of the actual story. Coz the story's about love and as such, it's got a happy ending. Even if everyone else in it gets murdered.

PS: And hey - I know about Edith and how Tolkien based this love story on his own. Except the scene where Beren and Luthien meet is based on the day he and Edith walked in the woods - when they were already married for 5 years and knew each other for 10.

And I don't blame Tolkien at all - that story was written a hundred years ago and the character of Luthien is still way better than anything modern writers could come up with, let's be real.

[dwellordream]

“...In one way, the marriage of Eleanor and Louis was unusual, for he was also a teenager (born c.1120–23) and little older than his bride. In numerous aristocratic marriages, the bride was much younger than her spouse; it was not uncommon for teenaged noble maidens to be married to men in their thirties or older. The couple’s similar ages likely gave Eleanor higher expectations that their marriage had more likelihood of turning into a true love match than other aristocratic marriages with great age disparities. No doubt, their similar ages also led Eleanor to assume that their marriage would be a true partnership; and she would feel more free to express her opinions to her young husband and to persuade him to accept her ideas than if he had been a mature, experienced man. 

In several ways, however, the bride and groom were mismatched. Louis the Younger, apparently a good-looking youth with shoulder-length hair, was quiet, serious, and exceedingly devout. The second son of Louis VI and Adelaide of Maurienne, his upbringing had aimed at preparing him for an ecclesiastical career with studies at the school attached to Notre-Dame Cathedral on the Île de la Cité in Paris not far from the royal palace. Louis’s elder brother Philip, heir to the throne, was killed when he was thrown to the ground and crushed by his falling horse after it “stumbled over a diabolical pig” in the road. This unexpectedly elevated Louis to the position of heir to the French throne. 

The boy left Notre-Dame’s cloisters at about age ten to be crowned king in accordance with the custom established by the second Capetian king of installing the current monarch’s heir in his own lifetime to ensure a smooth succession. Twelve days after his brother’s death, Louis’s consecration as king took place at Reims Cathedral in October 1131 in the presence of a great council of prelates presided over by the pope. Louis VII apparently returned to his religious studies after his coronation, and his clerical education would make a powerful impression on him throughout his life, imprinting on him simple tastes in dress and manners and an earnest piety. 

His Capetian predecessors had sought to present themselves as models of Christian kingship, stressing their close relations with the Church as compensation for their modest military power. Louis’s reputation for piety and spirituality surpassed that of earlier French monarchs, however. As one contemporary wrote, “He was so pious, so just, so catholic and benign, that if you were to see his simplicity of behaviour and dress, you would think . . . that he was not a king, but a man of religion.”

Young Louis thought of kingship as a religious vocation, and he felt called to govern according to Christian principles. In his first years as king, his confidence that he was God’s agent as French monarch gave him an unrealistic notion of his power, and he tended to over-reach, pursuing excessively ambitious political goals. In his youthful enthusiasm, he often displayed an inclination toward rash decisions taken in anger and without reflection. Yet he sometimes seemed sluggish and unenthusiastic for his task of governing, partly due to a distaste for political intrigue, and partly due to a lack of perseverance, his ardor rapidly cooling and giving way to periods of indecision and inactivity. 

Although he held a very high view of the monarchical office, he could be timid, and he allowed himself to fall under the influence of members of his entourage. Most prominent among those seeking to influence this impressionable youth was his young wife Eleanor, and he readily allowed her to take part in political decision-making. Such a mild husband as Louis VII was unlikely to find happiness with a wife such as Eleanor of Aquitaine. His young bride had already seen more of life than his sheltered upbringing had allowed him. A girl brought up at a sophisticated and lively court where no more than conventional piety was observed and whose own grandfather had lived openly for years with his paramour would find the Capetian royal court’s piety and repression confining. 

If Eleanor had been too young to remember life at William the Troubadour’s court, she grew up surrounded by people who had tasted its pleasures willing to tell her about it. Looking back on her earliest childhood while in Paris “through the prism of her imagination,” she could only compare the austere Capetian royal court unfavorably with an idealized image of her grandfather’s court. A widely quoted quip ascribed to Eleanor that she felt that she “had married a monk, not a king,” while hardly an authentic quotation, captures the feeling that she surely came to hold for Louis.

Although his clerical education had not prepared him for a fulfilling marital relationship, Eleanor’s beauty and charm captivated him at once and soon he fell deeply in love with her. Indeed, some observers of the couple’s marriage described the king’s love for his wife as “almost childish” and passionate beyond reason. The intensity of Louis’s love for his bride may have made him an anxious husband, easily roused to jealousy. Despite evidence of Louis’s attraction to his bride, the Church’s notoriously misogynist view of women and teachings of the early Fathers had ill-equipped him for the robust sexual relationship that Eleanor expected. Louis, brought up in a clerical environment, was prudish and repressed in a way that the queen could not understand.

…The royal bridegroom and his entourage reached Limoges on 1 July 1137, and after stopping there for prayers at the shrine of Saint Martial, Louis and his party arrived at Bordeaux on 11 July. They raised tents and camped on the banks of the Garonne river across from the city, where they waited for boats to cross the wide waters. The entry into Bordeaux of Louis the Younger, crowned king six years earlier, marked the first French monarch’s visit there in three centuries. The wedding took place on 25 July in the cathedral of Saint André, constructed around the end of the eleventh century. Today only its surprisingly plain façade survives from Eleanor’s time.

In full summer heat, a great throng of nobles of all ranks came from throughout Eleanor’s lands to witness the couple’s exchange of vows. As part of the ceremony, Louis had his bride “crowned with the diadem of the kingdom.” To commemorate the occasion, young Louis had brought along lavish gifts for his bride that a chronicler asserted would have required the mouth of a Cicero or the memory of a Seneca to expose their richness and variety. Usually aristocratic marriages were preceded by lengthy negotiations between the couple’s parents about financial arrangements. 

…In the case of young Eleanor, she was bringing to her husband a great duchy, and no other wedding gift was expected. No doubt she retained revenues from her ancestral estates in Poitou, and it seemed pointless to designate lands from the limited French royal domain as her dowerland. As the young couple set out on their journey to Paris, she offered her new husband another splendid present, however—a vase carved from rock crystal, one of her few possessions that survives today. The vase was a cherished possession, connecting her to her grandfather William IX, who had brought it back to Poitiers after an expedition to Spain.

Louis VI marked the marriage of his son and heir to Eleanor with grants of important privileges to the ecclesiastical province of Bordeaux, acting quickly to secure the support of the bishops in Aquitaine. Before Louis the Younger set out for Aquitaine, the king renounced any claim to rights of lordship over the dioceses of the province of Bordeaux, allowing them free episcopal elections. This concession ended the traditional ducal privilege of playing a part in the selection of bishops in the six dioceses of the province of Bordeaux.

…As soon as the wedding celebrations ended in the evening of 25 July, the newly-weds lost no time in beginning their journey toward Paris. Eleanor and Louis stopped to spend their first night together at Taillebourg, a formidable castle looming over the Charente river, where their host was its lord, Geoffrey de Rancon. The most powerful of lords in the Saintonge, Geoffrey held wide lands stretching from his castle of Taillebourg eastward to La Marche, to Poitou proper in the north, and southward into the Angoumois. He and his heirs would be important players in Poitevin politics throughout Eleanor’s lifetime. Whether the young couple consummated their marriage that first night at Taillebourg cannot be known, but royal retainers surely looked for evidence, since both the Church and popular opinion held no marriage to be an indissoluble union until it was consummated. 

By the beginning of August, the couple arrived at Poitiers, where a week later Suger organized a formal investiture of young Louis in the cathedral of Saint Pierre, a religious ceremony signaling the Church’s sanction for his ducal title. Young Louis, already crowned and anointed king of the French, did not adopt the titles “count of Poitou” or “duke of Gascony” on his marriage; instead, he had only the additional title “duke of Aquitaine” engraved on his seal. The title that he adopted implied that his bride’s duchy, though under Capetian administration, was not to be absorbed into the French Crown lands, but would preserve a separate identity with distinct institutions.

Barely after the ceremony had ended, a messenger arrived from Paris with the sad news that King Louis VI had died on 1 August, aged almost sixty. The intense summer heat demanded his immediate burial at the abbey of Saint Denis without waiting for the arrival of Louis the Younger and his bride from Poitou. Young Louis, already a crowned and anointed king on his father’s death, had to take on royal responsibilities at once, and the newly married Eleanor became a queen. Now King Louis VII, he had to leave his bride in the care of Bishop Geoffrey of Chartres to continue her progress toward Paris, while he led a force to subdue the rebel townspeople of Orléans, who had taken advantage of the old king’s death to proclaim their city a commune, taking rights of self-government for themselves.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “Bride to a King, Queen of the French, 1137–1145.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[bloodgulchblog]

We're back. But not so back. Manage your expectations accordingly. (EDIT: I only made it to the 15 minute mark before needing to tap out until later, mostly because I'm busy but also because I am just not having fun.)

The next scene is Ackerson helping shave the face of his elderly father, who has dementia.

He is telling us a story.

This is actually kind of interesting, because Ackerson's not a very developed dude in terms of home life in canon. We know he had a brother named Ruwan and they both liked The Lord of the Rings a lot. That's about it.

Ackerson apparently tells secrets to his father sometimes, because he's not worried about the old man being able to remember them.

Jokes aside, the portrayal of a person with dementia is not unrealistic and it kind of fucking got to me based on personal experience.

But this is the important thing.

And also this.

They're using giant spotlights to show you where this is going and I fucking hate it here. I actually did check later in the episode. I'm genuinely not having a fun time about it so I'm just going to keep moving and not stop for more jokes like I normally would.

I looked up what happens later in the episode just to confirm my suspicions, and where it's going is that Ackerson helps his dad commit suicide.

This sucks shit and I hate it.

Oh btw Ackerson's mother and sister are dead. His sister's name was Julia and that's the name of the clones from last episode, so have fun with that because I'm not.

Anyway, let's go check on Keyes dressing down Silver Team.

He got us a power point presentation for this. <- Jokes your local blogger makes while desperately trying to have something like levity again.

Anyway, Chief goes off about how COBALT WAS AT VISEGRAD but Keyes is like nooooo my powerpoint says otherwise and Chief's team gets the coveted [somber music] subtitle while they don't believe him about the Reapers Cobalt team being at Visegrad.

Keyes tells Chief he's super grounded, pending psych eval and submission to "neurochemical monitoring" while Chief calls him out for acting like Ackerson.

Then after he leaves, the Spartans call Chief out on lying to them.

Riz and Vannak take off, then Kai's good deed of trying to be kind does not go unpunished and she leaves too.

I think... I'm going to finish this later because I am just not really enjoying doing this and it's getting close to the time where I have something I need to go do besides beat my head against Halo TV.

Sorry.

I really do not want to hit play, but I already paid for these clown shoes and they're outside the return policy.

(S2E3)

Silver Team is looking for Cobalt. Also, we are back to the super dark scene lighting that I didn't miss.

As they search they find a weird Covenant transmission, which matches what John remembers from Sanctuary (aka the spooky fog planet.) This is intercut with rhythmic thumping from a broken sliding door they find, and cuts to Perez tapping her finger in her sleep while listening to a transmission of the same frequency of noise until she wakes up.

Then Silver Team gets arrested, and we get some more incredible dialogue writing.

Gold stars for nobody.

This new character, Briggs, tells Silver that they are not fucking supposed to be here. (This is how Silver Team figures out that TV Chief was lying to them about there actually being a mission, by the way.)

TV Chief looms threateningly about Cobalt.

There's a tense moment where Briggs threatens him, Silver Team hesitates on the edge of shooting some soldiers, and he disarms Briggs and forces his way past to see what's on the otherside of the mysterious thump door.

I'm not even surprised.

Me too, Kai.

So, after almost getting his people into a situation where they'd kill these guys to get out of it for him, he proves that you can act while wearing a helmet while we transition into another scene.

I need to go eat something and have already expended a huge percentage of this post's image budget in the first 10 minutes, back in a bit.

[shinsouskitten]

Hey Kat🤗 I was wondering if you could write about Bakugou, Shinsou, or Hawks meeting the reader’s family and something goes wrong and they don’t like them at first. Or possibly the parents think they are a negative influence on the reader.

Hey hey hey

I asked my mom how she’d react if I was dating someone she didn't like and she rlly just said “you wouldn’t be dating them if i didn’t like them”

like damn sis okay chile

Warnings: does it count as angst if the parents are the ones being mean? if so, there’s angst, but also fluff, bakugou is bakugou

---

💥 Katsuki Bakugou:

It wasn’t the best first meeting. You had planned to introduce your long term boyfriend to your family at your own pace, but of course the villains of the city had other plans. 

You were on a date, en route to the cinema to catch a new movie amidst Bakugou’s insistence that it was a ‘stupid unrealistic movie’. Mere metres from the entrance a villain came rushing past, a handful of gold jewelry in his arms. He pushed you to the side in order to keep running, which of course enraged Bakugou, who immediately took off after the villain, completely oblivious to the sirens following his path. 

Unsurprisingly he caught him within moments, but what you hadn’t realized was that all the events had been caught by your dad, standing on the other side of the street. Your dad knew you had a partner, and he knew that they were a hero, given you cancelled every opportunity to meet with the excuse of ‘another villain attack’. What he hadn't expected, however, was for your partner to be possibly his least favorite hero currently climbing the ranks. 

Later that night, after your forfeit on the movie date in favour of a much more simple date with your bed, you had a series of texts from your parents. 

So, Ground Zero is the partner we’ve heard so little about?

He’s a bit aggressive, isn’t he?

You should’ve told us sooner.

We just don’t want you getting hurt.

That had been the moment you were waiting for. Anyone who didn’t know Bakugou (and a few who did) would describe him as a never ending pool of anger, too aggressive to be a hero and too mean to be a good partner. But if they knew him the same way you did, they would know that’s not always the case.

Of course he’s angry when he has to deal with stupid villains interrupting every date he plans, or news reporters crowding him like an animal in a zoo whenever they got the chance. But he was different with you, more relaxed. He didn’t exactly express his emotions in the best ways, but he loved you, and he’d never hurt you.

Your parents practically demanded a meeting the next day, and blatantly refused to accept any excuses of villain attacks or the like. The meeting was awkward, with your father almost attempting to provoke Bakugou simply to prove a point, but your boyfriend knew this. He put on a good face, masking his worry and anger with an uncharacteristically kind attitude and baffling you all.

Maybe he’d changed his ways. Or at least, that was the conclusion your parents came to by the end of the night, wishing you well as you made your way home. You fought the urge to laugh at Bakugou’s sudden change once your parents left his view, and held back a smile throughout his mutterings of ‘stupid extras’.

He kept up appearances for long enough, but by the time your parents noticed it was a farce, they realized there was nothing they could do to stop the love you held for each other. After all, he may be an ass, but he’d never hurt you.

---

💜 Hitoshi Shinsou:

Shinsou, on the other hand, wanted to meet your family pretty quickly. If anything, just to get it out of the way, but there was a part of him that wanted the validation that he was good enough for you. Sometimes he just didn’t feel like he was, so if your parents liked him, it’d definitely be a weight off his shoulders.

The two of you picked out a nice restaurant, keeping in mind your parents favorite foods in an attempt to butter them up, then send them a text asking you to meet you and Shinsou for dinner. They replied eagerly, especially when you mentioned the two of you were covering the bill. 

You arrived first, giving your name at the door and sitting down on the plush leather anxiously awaiting the arrival of your parents. When you finally saw them, the two of you stood up to greet them, you offering hugs while Shinsou held out his hand with a smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” He said.

Your parents nodded, a false replica of a smile on their faces as they ignored Shinsou’s hand.

The air around you was thick, no one willing to be the first to break the uncomfortable silence, until you eventually suggested you all sit down. You made a mental note to tip your waiter extra when the night was over. It was clear they could sense the awkwardness, and thank the lord they came over at the exact moments you feared a bomb might explode.

The meals went down perfectly, but the atmosphere made it difficult to enjoy anything. Your parents spoke little, and when they did, it was always to you, almost as if Shinsou wasn’t even present. 

To be truly honest, he’d expected this reaction, although he hoped he was just overthinking. He knew people didn’t react to his quirk well, and there were many misconceptions about how much he used it. He had hoped your parents hadn’t been so quick to judge.

By the time your waiter delivered your check, you were ready to curl up in your bed and not emerge for a good few weeks. The four of you walked to the door silently, but before you could wish them goodnight, Shinsou spoke up, his hand holding yours tightly as he faced your parents.

“I just want you to know, whether you like me or not, I love Y/n more than anything, and I would never do anything to hurt them. I will protect them until my last breath, and I hope that we can sort out any differences with time.”

Did he really just confess his love to you in front of your parents? Yup. Well, at least it seemed to get a response this time, as your dad replied:

“I should hope you do.” Your dad held out his hand, and Shinsou took it a bit more than happily. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

Shinsou laughed awkwardly, not sure whether to be scared at your dad's threat or not, especially when he ended it without another word, turning and walking towards their car. 

I mean at least he spoke to him, right? That’s an improvement?

Either way, Shinsou quickly realized in reality the only opinion that mattered to him, was yours. 

oof having a good dad who cares about you? couldnt be me. also i absolutely hate this one and idk why, but shinsou’s my bby and i feel i disappointed him

---

🍗 Keigo Takami (Hawks):

The meeting was almost completely by chance. Keigo often took you on sky-high (not mile-high get your minds outta the gutters ppl) trips on his off days, and while flying one day, you saw your parents' house from the clouds. They hadn’t met Keigo yet, so you suggested that you pop in for a moment. He agreed, and in seconds, you were standing on their porch, hand raised high to ring the doorbell.

Your mother opened the door, surprised to see you, and even more surprised to see the bird standing behind you. Nevertheless she invited you both in, and as your father called Keigo over, your mother pulled you to one side, whispering quiet enough that the two men wouldn’t hear her. 

“The news says he’s a bit of a playboy.” You said.

“The news says a lot of things.” You rolled your eyes. 

“And his fans?” She asked.

“What about them?” You replied.

“Well,” she paused, “he can get a little friendly with them, don’t you think.”

You sighed. Your mother wasn’t the first person to bring up Keigo’s fans when discussing your relationship, but you knew that in reality, he couldn’t be bothered with the swarms of people throwing themselves at his feet when he had you waiting for him at home. 

“He’s a friendly person.” You shrugged.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Just say what you want to, mom.” You rounded on her, the heightened volume of your voice drawing Keigo’s attention from the other side of the room. “Say it. Go on.”

She glanced around, seeing both Keigo and your father now watching the two of you. 

“Fine.” You continued. “I know he has hundreds of fans who would kill to be in his bed at night. But you know what? He’s not there. He’s with me, watching crappy tv and binge eating kfc (CANNIBALISM). If you don’t like him, that’s your problem. But don’t try and convince me to do anything but love him, cause you’re not going to do it.”

Baffled, your mother stammered for a response, but you weren’t about to wait for one.

“C’mon Keigo,” you called, “we’re leaving.”

He was next to you in moments, and you grabbed his hand to pull him out of the house, stopping only when you were satisfied you were out of sight of your parents. 

“So, kid…” He looked across at you with a smirk, wrapping an arm around your waist as he lay his chin on your shoulder. “You love me?”

“Shut up bird brain.”

again i hate this but where my baby birds at?

[bookwyrminspiration]

analysis on quan & mai vs gisela & cassius?

apologies for the delay, nonsie!! I started to answer this and then paused half way through and forgot to finish it for several days. so now let’s do this

so we’ve got two different sets of horrid parents, but I think they do have a fair number of similarities

both of these sets of parents are obsessed with public image, which I think is a side affect of the society they live in. It prioritizes perfection and beauty and this unrealistic ideal of always being on top of everything with no problems. For the Sencens this meant having a son with perfect grades and ideal school performance. For the Songs it would’ve ideally been only having one kid, but at the very least they’d want to pass Tam and Linh as different ages and for them to actually listen to their parents.

A difference I do notice is that Lord Cassius kind of…gave up on Keefe. He expects nothing from him. He seems him as a lost cause and is now just trying to do damage control for his own reputation. Yet Lady Gisela is making that very difficult. On the other hand, it seems like the Song’s are still trying to control the twins sometimes, with Quan telling Tam to apologize to Mai. And now they’ve distanced themselves. Like they never had kids in the first place, trying to forget about that aspect of their lives.

I will say right now Keefe is almost entirely independent (and not in a good way). He doesn’t have a parental figure truly looking after him or caring about him (Ro doesn’t count or fit the requirements as of right now). He lived at the Shores of Solace and wasn’t starving or anything, but he just existed there. And if he had a choice he would’ve left. Tam and Linh now have Tiergan I believe, and it’s a fairly comfortable arrangement, but he’s not like a father to them (yet). So neither the Sencens or the Songs are “parenting” their kids. They’re not concerned with what’s happening to them or playing active roles in their lives.

one more thing that stands out to me is the different perspectives their horrible parenting takes. With the Sencens it was more “you’re a failure and I’m mad at you and you’ll never be anything,” insinuating that’s Keefe was a problem. While the Songs were more “look at how you’re hurting us. You’re hurting us. How could you. Our lives would be perfect if it weren’t for you.” I see this mostly in the “Mai couldn’t stand to leave their home” part of their pasts. It’s definitely interesting to compare the two of them I will say

disclaimer: I am not trying to say one is worse than the other. I’m just comparing the different approaches to parenting and how similar and different they are.

TL;DR: the Sencens are more mad a Keefe for being a failure, the Songs are mourning the children and life they never had. But they’re all awful parents and shouldn’t have children.

[autisticzukka]

what is this hakoda zuko arranged marriage you speak of? i am intrigued

okay so the long story short is that it’s a slight rebuttal of a popular post that is very fun but i find like... unrealistic in a really intriguing way like, how would this ACTUALLY play out. I’ve talked about it at length in my server a few times, and it’s one of those AU’s -- like the genderbend zukka ATLA rewrite or the zukki fic that starts with sokka failing to assassinate zuko -- that lives rent free in my head and I’ve written a couple thousand words for.

tw for like VERY unrequited zuko in love with hakoda and the inherent comedy of sokka being in love with his fire nation stepmom.

so here’s hakoda, chief of the southern water tribe, happily not-married to Bato. and here is a more balanced war, where the north and the south are actually  allies, rather than whatever the fuck they were in ATLA. Yue already has a fiance and the Northern chief refuses to remarry. that leaves hakoda responsible for biting the bullet and doing a political marriage even though, as he points out at length, he is an elected official and if he stops being elected it’s no longer a marriage with the chief of the south pole. intelligently but mostly selfishly motivated (yue’s fiance is his nephew, after all) pakku points out that its not like the fire nation knows... that. the fire nation is dumb. ozai’s stupid.

faced with such inarguable points hakoda stiffens his upper lip, pre-emptively ends things with bato on the understanding that if this is another kya situation they’ll get back together and that he’s still the most important person to him but the tribe comes first yada yada, and deals with katara throwing the mother of all tantrums. it is slightly softened by the fact that in return for him marrying the fire nation noble, a thing everyone can agree isn’t traditional, the north has finally agreed to train katara. she heads out before the wedding, in protest but also so as to not cause an international incident.

(on her way, she’ll find aang. with the war less dire, katara will be sympathetic towards his desire to live without committing violence, even if she deeply can’t relate. they’ll have a hot girl romcom summer of self discovery and coming to terms with the dichotomy between duty and love as they become master benders. at some point they pick up toph. they ARE a throuple.)

sokka meanwhile is like.. not cool with it.. but ? kind of relieved? like. he’s the eldest kid. he’s 18, and he’s been a man of the tribe as far as legalities for several years. it would have been entirely understandable if his dad had asked HIM to do it. he had his emotionally crushing romance with yue, and as much as he was like ‘im kind of a prince’, he finds he doesn’t actually want some of the responsibilities and demands that would bring. yue’s life sucks.

back in the fire nation, zuko never demanded a quest and never went on it. he’s spent years hardening into something that, while brittle, can survive the pressures of the court around him. he still has his scar. he still wants his father to love him, but he knows by now that it’s not something he’s capable of earning. he watches his sister, never the most stable person, start to have complete breakdowns of sanity once she hits puberty, and helps her cover for it and receive medical treatment on the down low. he’s the heir, but he lives knowing that if he was ever in a position to inherit his choices are to abdicate or have the baby sister who he raised kill him and destroy herself and the country in the process.

when he realizes the plan is to marry azula off rather than someone more reasonable-- mai is RIGHT there, for fucks sake-- he doesn’t realize ozai’s true intent is to fuck this up through malicious compliance and false shows of good faith. he panics, and does the zuko thing: he blurts out that this is unacceptable and immoral and she’s only 16 and Ozai sees the true opportunity for two birds with one stone. send zuko, let him piss someone off so badly he gets killed or divorced, and he gets rid of zuko from the line of succession permanently. there are those who are incredibly attached to teh idea of a firstborn for firelord, and it’s been a constant thorn in unpopular ozai’s side to nto be able to name azula his heir apparent without costly rebellion. but if he can taint him in the mind of the fire nation so much that birthright is easy to supercede-- yeah. this’ll work PERFECTLY.

so zuko is sent to marry hakoda, chief of the water tribe.

literally NO ONE was expecting it to be a member of Ozai’s immediate family. besides the fact that his oldest child is half hakoda’s age and his brother has 20 years on hakoda, it would have been sus as fuck - the treaty is not favorable enough to grant that kind of secession of interests. it becomes quickly apparent that this young man -- hakoda reminds himself of that repeatedly. not kid. not kid. young man. don’t think of him like a kid, it’s hard enough on both of us already. -- is not a horrible threat. he’s scared shitless and shakes with what he thinks is bravado. he’s desperate to make the marriage work. he’s desperate to not go home. he’s got a giant fucking scar on his face from where the fire lord punished him for some grievous but unstated offense.

zuko “daddy issues” fire nation sees his husband to be and, despite being scared shitless, immediately begins to soften a little. like... he’s not nearly as scary as he thought he’d be. his face can be stern, but it just as easily breaks into huge smiles, and his eyes are crinkled with laughter. he’s incredibly handsome. and his biceps are. his biceps. are. his hands are...

like. zuko thinks. okay. maybe. maybe his marriage duties. won’t be so horrible as he thought. maybe he’s ready for this. and he knows what to expect, Uncle had discreetly provided him the means and the contacts to acquire an intimate education in the whirlwind of activity that was the two months before leaving. and like, once he’d gotten past the nerves, it was often even... good? or at least... not bad? he thinks that even if hakoda isn’t a professional expert, he has a certain.... je ne sais quoi, if you will.

((DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF DILF))

sokka sees his new stepfather and immediately falls in love because he’s that kind of dumb bitch. (the core of this au is that i cant breathe thinking about sokka falling in love with his hot young stepmom his age who his dad doesnt even want to fuck. like. i CANT. sokka masturbates to ‘hand caught in the washing tub’ fantasies which are even more absurd for requiring zuko to be DOING LAUNDRY. i find it so funny.)

bato watches them at the wedding feast while hakoda is very clearly trying to treat zuko as an Equal Adult Partner and mostly managing to seem like someone having a serious conversation with a seven year old about the game they’ve made up. zuko is clearly enamored with it, soaking up the attention, blushing and doing his best to Bravely Flirt, which at one point includes awkwardly attempting to feed Hakoda by hand. bato has to excuse himself to have a teary eyed giggle, hoping that Kya is in the spirit world looking down and laughing with him. he can’t resent the kid even a little bit, when hakoda is sitting there looking so incredibly fucking befuddled as to what he’s supposed to do with this star struck infant he’s legally wed to

anyways all of this... is very funny. their wedding night... is less so. zuko does not take the rejection from hakoda very well, especially because he’d been caught wanting. HE’S the one who should be rejecting hakoda. and he catastrophizes almost immediately about his potential value to the water tribe, his future treatment, that endless inescapable freezing cold loneliness is the good ending for him here... hakoda, meanwhile, drops zuko off at his home, reassuringly informs him that there’s NOTHING else expected of him and he will be well taken care of, and books it to bato’s. bato refuses to let him in on grounds of ‘you can’t sleep under the same shelter as me on your wedding night to that kid, have a fucking brain’, and he ends up crashing at sokka’s.

sokka, who had KNOWN that his dad wouldnt, but also upon seeing zuko and zuko’s awkward flirting was like... but how COULDNT he???? sokka is relieved.

the core of this fic is that i find it endlessly hilarious for zuko to try and seduce his husband while sokka simps around zuko and bato tries to be heartbroken or betrayed but mostly ends up with a giant case of hysterical schadenfreude. but the thing that CLINCHED it for me, like THE scene. several years after being married, settled into their life. they’re partners and they see each other as people. and zuko just fucking snaps one night

he just kisses him, desperate and clawing and climbing and maybe a little drunk. he knows hakoda is going to push him away, maybe even hit him, but he doesn’t care anymore, he doesn’t care. he can do anything he wants to him as long as he just-- finally does something. zuko is 21 and married to the surface of the sun and the surface of the sun jr is his best friend and clearly in love with him-- so clearly not even zuko can miss it-- and like. listen. listen. zuko is not a patient person. but he’s been patient for this. he waited and he matured and he is a fucking amazing husband and he wants this, he wants him. he wants to be wanted.

but hakoda doesn’t push him away. hakoda doesnt yell at him, or hit him. hakoda gentles the kiss into something soft and closed lipped. he pulls away slowly, and his eyes are so sad for zuko, so pitying. he strokes his cheek with the back of his hand so gently. he says, I’m sorry. I don’t want you.

and zuko daddy issues fire nation swallows

and he nods

and he leaves, even though its his own fucking house

and he knows he’s never going to be good enough

like FUUUCK i am OBSESSED WITH THAT

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Scars Of A Killer

Inspired by this art! <3

Day 3: Fire Lord Azula

Summary: Azula can be the Fire Lord, all she has to do is let the lightning leave her fingertips. It should be simple...

Zuko stares up at her, horror in his eyes. Horror, resignation, and then some sort of solemnly noble acceptance. She sees the flashing reflection of her lightning in those eyes. She is going to be the Fire Lord, she already is and in one flash she will seal the deal.

She can see it already, the crown shimmering atop her head, peasant folk at her feet. She is powerful, glorious, a sight to behold in her billowing Fire Lord regalia. Ozai, the Phenoix King stands behind her with a firm, hand on her shoulder. He is smiling, he is proud of her. But even in her fantasy, the crown is heavy and with it she wears a frown. The sun is high in the air, beaming down on her, but she feels no warmth…

Her arm shakes and she thinks that she is going to lose control of the lightning. Spirits, what if she hits herself? Would she deserve it? She thinks that everyone else would say so. She feels so very sick to her stomach.

As if to try to prove something to herself, she moves closer to Zuko, the lighting dancing just inches from his nose. It throws sparks every which way and he flinches as a few ping onto his face. They sear her own arms. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes.

She swallows hard.

Like the flashes of her lightning she can see herself running through the Ember Island tall grasses with Zuko, remembers searching for toad-squirrels with him by the palace pond, remembers him rescuing her from a hoard of angry turtle-ducks after having tossed an loaf at them. She remembers what it was like to be cherished. To be happy. To have companionship.

Agni, she is so alone.

The lightning flickers out. She lets her arm drop and with it she drops to her knees, body feeling limp and numb. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her, she should be stronger than this. A true Fire Lord wouldn’t have hesitated. Father wouldn’t have hesitated. She is pathetic, weak. And for it she has lost her chance. Lost her dreams. Everything that she has worked for.

Zuko, still breathing hard, gets to his feet. He hesitates before holding his arm out. Impulsively, she reaches for his hand; it is the only help that has been extended to her in a very long while. He helps her to her own feet before pulling her into a tight hug. Oh, Agni, her head hurts so much.

She can’t exactly explain why she had, but she lets out a small sob and then another until she is bawling into his shoulder like a child. Today was supposed to be glorious, honorable but instead she is shamed and humiliated and she is handling it with less grace than Iroh running home after Lu Ten’s death.

No one has died in this battle and yet loss hits just as deeply. She is doubly shamed; at least when Iroh fled and cried his reasons were solid enough. What can she say for herself? That she was having a bad day? One bad day shouldn’t reduce her to this…

Zuko brushes his hand over her hair. “Let’s go sit down.” He offers.

She says nothing and lets him lead her to the stairwell.

“We can have Katara take a look at us both.”

She has a feeling that the waterbender won’t be too pleased to offer her any sort of help. Not after everything. Zuko helps her sit down.

“I was thinking that, after we’re all healed up, we can do something neat with our firebending. There’s still time and it might be nice to make the most of it.”

It sounds idealistic. Unrealistic.

Katara looks Zuko over first, healing his side and the places on his face where the sparks had landed. The worst of it, she said, was a fractured rib cage. But a little waterbending fixed that right up.

Azula winces as Katara takes her hands.

“No wonder.” She mumbles before wrapping Azula’s hands in a cocoon of water. There is an unpleasant stinging tingle before Katara retracted her hands to work with some of the bruises on her arms and knees.

“You two are horrible!” She declares upon finishing. “You both did a number on each other, you should be ashamed!”

She feels prickles and jabs of shame for various reasons and based upon the clenching of his jaw, she would wager that Zuko does too. “We’re going to make it right.” He vows. “Right, Azula.”

She shrugs. At the very least, she doesn’t have the energy to make it worse. She stares at her palms and the jagged lightning scars that run jaggedly all over her hands. They are both fresh and old and only seem to be getting worse.

She forces herself to her feet and slouches over to his side. She isn’t sure what he has planned but at this point she is willing to try anything to alleviate the hurt and loneliness. Anything to regain at least some of her dignity.

At first they only throw large balls of fire back and forth between one another, mesmerized by the sight of blue on orange and the shapes that the flames make as they erupt and disperse. And then they begin wrapping their flames coiling blue in and out of orange. And then they make pictures and put stories to those pictures until Katara is just as spellbound as they.

In one grand finale, Azula shapes a blue dragon, moves it about and Zuko accents it by giving it flames to breathe down onto the stony floor. By their show’s end she is panting lightly, she is so, so tired. Doubly so when  it settles in--the reason for their rift. They are a strong duo, they work well together. Ozai is safer if they hate each other. They could have been happy. Things could have been nice.

Zuko puts a hand on her back, smiles down at her as if to say, “they will be nice.”

.oOo.

Things work differently than she had expected. Two scenarios had played out in her mind, really she thought that it could have only worked out in one of two ways; either she’d be on the throne dressed finely and with a crown on her head or she would be dressed in rags and on her way to the darkness of a prison cell next to father.

Azula is dressed in neither finery nor rags. Instead her night robe drapes around her body. It is her off week, but she isn’t sure that she is ready to take her turn with the crown. She is still so exhausted, her mind is still reeling and disoriented.

Zuko promises that she can have her turn when she is ready for it. When she is ready to be Fire Lord Azula. Right now, and until her head clears, she just wants to be Azula. She stares at her palms. At those dreadful scars. The scars of a killer.

She traces her pointer over them.

“Still staring at your hands?” Zuko asks.

She holds them up.

“You can hide them with gloves if you hate them that much.” He suggests.

But that’s just it, she doesn't hate the look of them. She hates what they represent. And she can’t hide from that. She tells him as much. “I first got them after I killed the Avatar.”

He nods. “I think that he’s already forgiven you.”

“I never asked--”

Zuko laughs, “that’s Aang for you! I didn’t ask either.”

Azula nods.

“I think that he’s just relieved that you picked the right choice in the end.”

Sometimes she still has her doubts about that, but she nods anyhow.

“Are you sure that you don’t want to try the crown on today?” He removes it from his head and places it in her palms. “I’m pretty sure that everyone’s curious about what kind of Fire Lord you’re going to be.”

“You just don’t want to attend the five hour long council meeting.” She grumbles. But she fixes the crown into her hair anyways. “The robes?”

When she emerges fully dressed and made up Zuko greets her with a goofy grin. “They’re huge on you!”

“Shut up” she grumbles again.

“I guess that we’re going to have to get you fitted for your own regalia, huh?”

She nods. “Looks like you’ll be going to the meeting after all.” Azula shrugs.

“You can still wear the crown. Just change out of you pajamas and you’ll be fine.”

She supposes that attending this meeting will probably be the best way for her to recover her shaky reputation. It will be a demonstration of her maturity, intellect, and stability. “Alright, but you’re coming with. If I have to sit through this, so do you.” She pauses. “I don’t feel like relaying five hours worth of content.” Truth be told, she just doesn’t want to be alone for her first big milestone as Fire Lord. Especially not now that she knows what the pressure and fear does to her...

“I’ll get dressed.” He sighs.

She relaxes significantly. It is easier to be the Fire Lord when she isn’t isolated and hate. It is easier to breathe and live when she has love and support. Spirits, it has been so so long since she’d had either of those. She supposes that sharing the crown is a small price to pay for it.

[funkymbtifiction]

Thanks a lot for answering! I wonder could you please give examples of everyday deeds/types of behavior of different primaries and secondaries? Like what are they like when there's a school test or when they need to visit a doctor? The more the better. Something more down-to-earth than the situations from the fantasy movies listed on the website that may never take place in the real world, something found in everyday life that will help someone identify themselves and mb others around them

I’m not sure I can do that, because frankly, your Primary House is a state of mind. It’s what you want and how you feel about things (or do not feel, in the case of Ravenclaws, ahem). But I can talk about a few things, particularly in response to Harry Potter, that can shed light on the state of mind of the Primary.

What I have most noticed about people in general is that we all have a built-in bias, and in order to find our true type—whether that is our MBTI type, our Enneagram core and tritype, or our Hogwarts House combination—we must abandon our ego defenses. What does that mean? We have to overcome our biases and want to know our true self, and own it, more than we want to fight against an answer that might not please us. In the Enneagram, I’ve noticed particular biases against being a 2 or a 6. Everyone wants to be the more “glamorous” 4 or the elusive, bookworm 5.

Harry Potter, for better or worse, introduced us to the concept of Hogwarts Houses, but also introduced us to a bias, because it made Gryffindor the most glamorous House, due to all the main characters (however unrealistically) hailing from that House. Or, at least, all the main characters we like. Ravenclaw is full of wise weirdos like Luna Lovegood, who irrationally believes in things no one can prove. Slytherin is host to mostly back-stabbing, snobbish cheaters. And Hufflepuff is an “afterthought” where all “the boring, nice people are.”

What I like about Sorting Hat Chats is… they made the entire system more interesting and a lot fairer. Now, Slytherin isn’t the only House with villains automatically placed in it: their villains have to be specific in their love (and not betray their family, because it is the house of My Family is My Life). This also means people, fictional or real, who prioritize their loved ones, are Slytherins. Such as Mr. Darcy, or Katniss Everdeen. Suddenly, being a Slytherin doesn’t seem so bad, right? Not if you are loyal to the ones you love! That alone will appeal to the mindset of a Slytherin, because they will think, “Of COURSE I am. Of COURSE my loved ones come first! They SHOULD!”

I have friends in all four Primary Houses, but I will use myself as an example of the Ravenclaw. When I was reading the books, having all the main characters in Gryffindor bothered me, because not only did it show a bias, but I felt some of the main characters ‘belonged’ in other Houses—such as Remus Lupin being a Hufflepuff rather than a Gryffindor. I also felt like Hermione belonged in Ravenclaw. But that is neither here nor there… my objections to the system came from the logical flaws in how she arranged it. It wasn’t realistic to have everyone ‘important’ or ‘admirable’ within the story come from Gryffindor. It was easier to have them share Common Rooms, but people don’t isolate like that and only befriend someone from their House. They look for like-minded friends who share interests, and would make them all over the place. It was my little Ravenclaw brain, pulling away at her system and finding flaws in its logic, but reacting from a place of logical reasoning rather than moral indignation.

When I took the SHC test, it placed me in Slytherin. And I was not opposed to that. In fact, I explored it for a long time, as I thought about how I respond in various situations. Slytherin appealed to me, because… I wish I could stand up for my family automatically. I wish I could prioritize my loved ones all the time. But I kept hitting upon the fact that – I like to think about things in a detached manner, and come to what I feel is a rational consensus. It’s more clinical and less emotional than Slytherins are—and it helped at the time that I knew a Slytherin, and could easily see both how possessive she was of people (they are “mine to protect” – she always reminded me of Slytherin Sam Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings, with his “MY MR. FRODO”) and how, without fail, her sister came before even me, her best friend. Through comparison, I knew I had to be something else. So in typical Ravenclaw fashion, I went through and considered them all. Because, as a Ravenclaw, I want to be RIGHT more than protect my ego. I am always looking for the truth, even when it hurts. And I am always measuring the world against an ideal in my head, built up of my belief system. I do not go against my beliefs; I mold myself to them. And it shocks me to find others who do not, but who claim to be the same as I am. I take, for example, my Christian faith seriously—so what do you mean you are ignoring what your faith says, and doing whatever you want??? YOU MOLD TO YOUR BELIEFS, DON’T YOU? Well, yes, if you are a Ravenclaw, you do. If you are any other House, you do not.

The Hufflepuff Primary I know has a far more ‘felt’ opinion of the books and their sorting system. She got livid reading them, and thinking about how constantly unfair it all was, how biased Rowling was, and how Dumbledore was clearly playing favorites constantly with Gryffindor House. She developed a bad attitude about him as a result… which, of course, is coming from her being a Hufflepuff. To a Hufflepuff, people come first. They are all treated fairly and seen as equals. You do not discriminate, you do not alienate, you do not give unfair favors to Harry and his friends, just so Gryffindor can win the House Cup over and over again. She was actually so angry about this, from a Hufflepuff perspective, that she was willing to be a Slytherin in defiance of ‘The System’ until she realized that kind of mindset is… pure Hufflepuff. “You are not being fair about this, I will oppose you.” It’s all instinctual, it’s all emotional, and it’s all loyalty to the human race, which includes Slytherins. (This caused us some friction for awhile, until I realized it was “just a Hufflepuff” objection, because... how can you be mad at Dumbledore for that? It’s just a convenient plot device in the book! ... says the Ravenclaw who isn’t getting too emotionally involved. ;)

The Slytherin I know, by the way, denied being a Slytherin at first, because she felt ashamed of it. She has been taught to act like a Hufflepuff, that she SHOULD care about everyone all the time, but… she does not. She cares about her loved ones the most, and she would protect them above other people, every time. I pointed out to her that Hufflepuff fits her less than Slytherin, because “You ARE Katniss. You told me that once. That you identified so heavily with her, because you would go into the arena for your Prim.” And then she admitted it, and saw the gloriousness that is being a loyal Slytherin.

The Gryffindor I know is always looking for a Cause, and… as a Ravenclaw, I find that exhausting. She wants to be mad about things, because that anger gives her the fire she needs to do something about it. She has taken on big Causes by financially supporting the Causes she cares about, and done physical things about smaller Causes. For example, as a teenager, she came upon three guys tormenting a dog. It made her so livid, she charged straight at them, swearing and screaming at them to leave the animal alone, and it scared them all so much, they turned tail and ran. She just knew it was the right thing to do, and she and I often butt heads a lot, because she expects everyone else (meaning me) to be as passionate as she is about doing the ‘right thing.’ My more detached “well, let’s look at both sides of this issue” has no place in her black and white Gryffindor mind (no, that is WRONG).

Secondary Houses are… something that may take a little more time to figure out, as you think about how you handle the ‘unexpected.’

Gryffindors… have to speak up if they see an injustice, or hear something they disagree with. They are they person who cannot keep their mouth shut, they need to voice their opinion. They don’t care if you don’t like it or don’t agree, to not state their views would be antagonistic to their central self. My Hufflepuff friend is a Gryffindor Secondary. Not only did she get mad about the biases in Harry Potter, she complained loudly about it, to me, and to other people, and even in a blog post, because the injustice of it needed drawn-attention to, and dealt with, and she doesn’t really care if you disagree. That’s just how she rolls, about EVERYTHING. Because Gryffindor Secondaries state their views. They see an injustice, and they rush toward it. (My Gryffindor friend is also a Gryffindor Secondary: see dog being abused, rush in to do something about it!)

Ravenclaws… want to prepare for everything, and then rely on their own skill set to handle problems as they arise. They are the person who, when their bike breaks down halfway home, consider what they know about bikes (can they fix this easily?), and what they know about public transportation (am I going to be able to catch a bus home?), and make decisions from there. Or who study for a test in advance and show up, only to panic because they found out they read the wrong chapter in the book and know nothing about it. My father is a Gryffindor with a Ravenclaw Secondary, and he over-prepares himself with any useful knowledge he thinks he might need to combat a wide variety of situations—and then is stumped if confronted by something he did not prepare for, and knows nothing about. He is always trying to think ahead and prepare so that he doesn’t have to improvise anything at the last second—because he sucks at it.

It was a comparison with him that actually shifted me away from assuming I had a Ravenclaw Secondary, because… I don’t suck at improvising. I’m actually quite good at it. And I don’t over-prepare, because in true Hufflepuff Secondary position, I figure I can ask someone for help. And they always give it to me. But what really cemented the deal for me, in terms of recognizing my Puff Secondary House, were two—no, make that three, truths from my life. 1) Ravenpuffs distill complex information and put it back out into the world for others to enjoy (hello, Funky!). 2) Puff Secondaries show up and do the tireless work, clock the hours, and are highly reliable, which is… me. I have run this site day in and day out for years. I am punctual, fastidious, I put my responsibilities ahead of all else (even turning down fun occasions because I need to work), and I will painstakingly work on perfecting something, finishing something, improving something, or polishing something (even when I’m bored). In short, I show up and do the work. And 3) the truth that Puff Secondaries have friends to stand up for them, because they have proven themselves reliable and trustworthy, is no joke. A few years ago, I had trouble with someone online and, without being asked, three of our mutual friends came to my defense. Proof of the Puff.

Lastly, Slytherin Secondaries are highly adaptable. It’s no problem for them to shift their approach given the needs of the situation. It’s the equivalent of a friend you admire, but who puzzles you (if you don’t share their Slytherin Secondary trait) because… it seems like they are a different person everywhere you go, because whatever is needed, they can become it. They are the person who has no trouble with change and no need to plan, because they just trust that it’s all going to work out fine, based on their ability to adapt. It’s the person who shows up at a friend’s birthday party expecting it to be formal, finds out it’s casual, sneaks into the bathroom to rearrange their attire, and emerges ready to play Twister. Or who will be serious with you, joke constantly with your brother, and behave like a saint around your mom, according to whatever works and appeals to you the best.

Hope some of that helps, though it wasn’t explicitly what you asked for. Best this ENFP can do, since in-depth sensory specific examples require a heck of a lot more Si than I’ve got. :P

[aegonbeingfakeisracist]

One more question (sorry), but how do you think a marriage between Arienne & Edmure would have worked, since they are both the heirs to a region? Would they have each kept their own last name and split their time between both places? Which region does the first child inherit? I'm just curious, because I'm tempted to write something for them, but I kinda want it to be realistic (not that there's anything wrong with fun, unrealistic stories).

Ohmygod, so I answered an ask about Willas Tyrell earlier, and it was getting long, so I’m so glad that you sent me this one, because I was talking about this same idea in regards to him rather than Edmure, so I cut from that post, and can now just paste it here!

It’s definitely an extremely rare occurrence that two heirs to such important seats would marry, for the simple reason of male preference primogeniture combined with the few houses wealthy or powerful enough to make it a problem making the likelihood of it happening drop down very low. A woman would have to be from one of very few houses, have no brothers (potentially no sisters, too, but that’s more like the Arianne situation, which we’ll get to), and for some reason, want to marry another heir to a major house, rather than a second son or someone of a slightly lower rank, even though doing that would be a better option for her personal power and for the continuation of her family name. It’s just not going to be that big a problem for the houses outside of Dorne. And in fact, even for Dornish houses, it’s still a rare problem because of the last of those reasons - there’s very little reason why someone would choose to do such a thing. Arianne’s case was special - because she knew Doran was planning supplanting her with Quentyn, she very much had a reason to want a match with someone extremely powerful. Hence the attempted seduction of Renly, the running off to meet Willas, and lighting candles in thanks upon learning that Hoster wanted her for Edmure.

Now. I know people often debate this precise scenario and the inheritance rights if two heirs marry, usually citing Arianne’s interest in Willas as the example, and the idea often comes up that Arianne would give up Dorne, because one of them would have to give up their seat and it would be expected to be the woman. If you accept that premise, Arianne would be even more likely to give up her seat to marry Edmure than to marry Willas - unlike Willas, Edmure doesn’t have brothers or an unmarried sister; the Riverlands is further from Dorne than the Reach. But that premise is not necessarily true. Inheritance laws are not well defined beyond the very basics, there isn’t all that much precedent for situations like this, and people can get away with kind of a lot. So if Arianne were to marry Edmure, while the Tullys might “expect” her to give up her claim, that doesn’t mean it would actually pan out that way, and it seems to me at least that Arianne believed marrying Edmure would not mean giving up her claim.

Maybe I’m missing something, but it never seemed to me that Arianne was just accepting the fact her father wanted to disinherit her and looking for the best alternative to being a ruling princess - it seemed to me that, upon realizing her father was not giving her appropriate matches and connecting that with how she knew Doran wanted Quentyn to inherit Dorne, she was looking for a powerful lord or heir rather than the second son of a prestigious house that would ordinarily be the best match because she wanted someone strong enough to support her right. It may have been subconscious or reactionary, much like her sleeping with Daemon was, but I think that was part of the motivation. It wasn’t an “oh, my father is going to disinherit me, so I’m just going to marry the most powerful lord I can because if I can’t have Dorne, I want a super prestigious match” situation. I don’t buy that Arianne ever gave up on Dorne. This is not a situation like Myriah giving up Dorne to be queen (actually, this is complicated. We’ll come back to this), or how Doran wanted Arianne to do the same. In that situation, there was someone clearly in a position to advance their family interests, losing personal power but gaining a lot more influence. There would be a real reason to give up Dorne to be queen. Not so to marry a Tully. So how exactly would that have panned out?

It’s super situational. If it were very small seats that were closer together, the holdings would probably merge with much less cause for concern. It’s happened before. But these more important seats aren’t going to merge like that - it would be perceived as a major threat to the stability of the realm for any one lord to hold so much power, plus not very practical in the long term. It is certainly theoretically possible for someone to hold multiple titles - Tommen is technically the lord or heir to half the country, isn’t he? Because Renly and Tywin are dead and Stannis was attainted, he’s the lord of Storm’s End and Dragonstone, and next in line for Casterly Rock after Cersei. All of this on top of being king. That was part of Arianne’s pitch to Arys - Tommen will be a great lord, but the Iron Throne should be Myrcella’s. But that’s a temporary thing in which the seats he holds will split among his children, so cadet branches form and eventually become totally separate. Same with Edmure and Arianne - as a couple, they would control both the Riverlands and Dorne, and their eldest child will not inherit one. So it’s not like the holdings will ever merge, but instead, that they’re allied for now through Edmure and Arianne’s marriage, and likely in the near future, when their children rule. That means it would essentially be an alliance like, for instance, the one between the Starks and the Tullys in canon, but one which can act considerably faster with less need for negotiation and that’s more stable for longer. Like, during the War of the Five Kings, the Starks did not have Arryn support, even though Lady Stark and Lady Arryn were sisters. The very set up of this society can pit siblings against each other and feed resentment. If Edmure and Arianne were to wed, it’s quite a bit less likely that their military alliance will fall apart, because their mutual children will mean have a common cause to support, unless something disastrous means their interests are no longer at all aligned. Which is unlikely. Still temporary, but longer lasting and more stable.

I don’t think it’s likely that Arianne would leave Sunspear in the custody of an acting ruler, and certainly not give up her claim for one of her brothers, no matter what people would expect. She’d want to rule. So I definitely see them splitting their time - or even like Rhaenyra and Laenor and living mostly apart. And I think they’re definitely going to keep their names, though also accepting the new titles that come with the marriage - so, Arianne Martell, Princess of Dorne and Lady of Riverrun. We don’t have much indication of what titles would come with marrying a ruling prince or princess of Dorne, given that Mellario is only ever referred to as “Lady Mellario”, but that might just have to do with her discomfort with Dorne and the state of her marriage - so the idea of “Prince Consort” for Edmure is not unlikely. I think the real question is the kids, because that’s much less consistent - what names do they get? There are many examples of the family name being passed down matrilineally, but those are usually when the woman is of a significantly more prestigious family, or the only one of the couple that’s the heir to anything. For example, Tanda Stokeworth, the entirety of House Lannister (not only were Joffrey Lydden and his unnamed wife’s children Lannisters (gah, how I hate the entire concept of an unnamed wife), Joffrey himself took his wife’s name), etc. Even then, we have the Rhaenyra Laenor example, which was weird. Rhaenyra was the heir to the Iron Throne. She clearly outranked her husband, even though Laenor was also an heir, and to what was, at the time, an extremely wealthy and powerful house. Their eldest was supposed to inherit from her, not him. And yet those kids had the Velaryon name, not Targaryen. That could have been a political thing. The kids were almost certainly not Laenor’s, so perhaps naming them Velaryons was a way to challenge anyone that would call them bastards - daring them to prove it when Rhaenyra and Laenor were adamant that they were trueborn. On top of that, the Velaryons were Rhaenyra’s staunchest supporters, and extremely wealthy and powerful. Rhaenyra’s personal sigil had not only the Targaryen arms, but also that of her Arryn mother’s family and her Velaryon husband’s, outwardly demonstrating Rhaenyra’s affection for her husband’s family. So that means in these cases with a big class/power disparity between the wife and husband, that there’s a clear motivator to give the kids one name or the other, no matter which it is.

Unlike in these situations, Arianne and Edmure don’t have that huge disparity. They’re on fairly even ground, as far as it goes. So I wonder if their theoretical kids might not style themselves in the same way Joffrey (Baratheon, not Lydden) did - Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, even as he was known informally as Joffrey Baratheon. On top of that, his personal arms included both the Baratheon stag and the Lannister lion, not unlike Rhaenyra (though a fair bit less ugly, damn Rhaenyra’s was tacky). It could never be forgotten who his mother is. I can’t imagine a way to combine Arianne and Edmure’s sigils that wouldn’t be horribly tacky, so I’d hope their children wouldn’t do that, but it’s a useful thing, the formal styling - it makes it less difficult when a situation like Tommen’s emerges, and he’s in line to inherit the traditional seat of House Lannister.

As for who would get what seat, there isn’t a clear precedent for that, either. Rhaenyra’s eldest was intended for the Iron Throne, and the second for Driftmark, but that’s a special case with an extremely obvious answer - the Iron Throne is a much more powerful and prestigious seat. What if we instead look at the Robert situation? Robert gave Renly Storm’s End and Stannis Dragonstone. At the time he did that, his brothers were his heirs. And Stannis was obviously offended, and it could have been intended as a slight, but in a different light, it’s a solid compliment - Dragonstone was the traditional seat of the crown prince; it’s physically close to Targaryen loyalists and thus a symbol of Robert’s trust in/respect for him; and so on. But Storm’s End is wealthier and the traditional Baratheon seat, so surely in the context of a new Baratheon dynasty, that’s the real prize? Had Robert not given them to Stannis and Renly and instead kept them for his own sons, who would have gotten what? There’s an argument to be made either way. In the real world, we have the William the Conqueror example - his eldest got Normandy, while the younger one got England. Since there’s no law dictating it, Edmure and Arianne would have to work that out themselves.

The obvious answer is that the eldest would get whichever seat becomes available first, given that the inheritance would be coming from one parent or the other. So, if Edmure died first, the eldest would get Riverrun, and if Arianne did, they would get Dorne. That makes a fair amount of sense, given that otherwise, you might end up with a younger child inheriting something first and then being in a position of power over the older one. That might be okay in cases where one seat was a minor holding and the other was a very important one, but with two roughly equal seats, it might become awkward. Still, there are reasons it might be preferable to get one over the other. That would make dividing the seats based upon which one was available first less than ideal.

The Martells have ruled Dorne for much longer than the Tullys have ruled the Riverlands and the Martell name comes with a princely title. Dorne is more unified than the Riverlands. The Riverlands are pretty much impossible to defend and completely surrounded by potential enemies, while Dorne is impossible to invade. There are a lot of reasons why a child of Edmure and Arianne’s might want their mother’s seat over their father’s. I suspect Arianne would advocate for the eldest getting Dorne using similar reasoning to what Genna Lannister did - Emmon Frey had his heart set on being Lord of Riverrun, even though he wouldn’t be becoming Lord Paramount of the Trident and there are a number of wealthier vassal houses in the Riverlands, while Genna thought he ought to instead want Darry, because that’s the safer seat. While Arianne probably wouldn’t have need to emphasize safety, she’d use the security as a reason it’s more valuable. Edmure would likely disagree and want the eldest to get Riverrun. But who wins?

The best possible outcome is if their first child is a girl and the second is a boy. The difference in succession laws means that sorts out succession on its own - that first child, a daughter, would get Dorne, and the younger boy would get the Riverlands. No problem. If they have all girls, also not a problem - the first child would still get Dorne in thoughts that they’d maybe have a boy, and when they don’t, the next girl gets Riverrun. It gets more awkward if they have, say, two boys, then they actually have to decide who is going to get what. Awkward, but not the end of the world. The real worry is if they have multiple girls, then a boy. The first girl would still get Dorne, but when the son showed up, they would have to deal with the fact that while the succession to Sunspear would remain the same, all their daughters were pushed back for the newborn baby when it came to Riverrun. Arianne would go into this marriage knowing this is theoretically a possibility, but it wouldn’t really hit her until she had a son what it meant.

Arianne isn’t a Catelyn Tully, who for all that she was raised as an heir, was also raised to know it was conditional, and that even though she was her father’s favourite, the only way she would rule the Riverlands is if she never got a brother. Arianne is the undisputed heir, even though she has brothers, and was raised in a different context - she’s completely aware of succession laws elsewhere, as evidenced by her attitude towards Cersei as regent, but when it comes to her own children, I can see her having a hard time with the idea of a daughter losing out to a son, especially if this was in a universe where she had had some of the same angst and betrayal about Doran and Quentyn. Many other women probably also feel the same way, but unlike just about every other mother in the series that might want to push for their eldest daughter to inherit, Arianne would have more leverage and influence and might actually be able to make headway into expanding Dornish succession.

It wouldn’t be easy, and it would take a lot of care, but I think it would be a super interesting idea to explore Arianne pushing this amidst all the other political issues going on. Did Hoster want the match because he was angling for a Tully ruling Dorne? If so, how? Did he think Edmure could rule through Arianne, as would be the case had Arianne been heir to a seat in any of the other kingdoms, or was he looking for a grandchild to do it? Or was he just after the prestige of Edmure marrying a princess and operating under the assumption that Arianne would give up her claim? And when would this marriage take place? If it’s after Hoster has fallen ill, Edmure was acting lord for quite a while before his father died, how does that impact Arianne’s attitude and approach to the match? How does Arianne’s unwillingness to give up her birthright impact Edmure’s feelings? In this universe, what changed to make the match possible? There are many options, and I love it (I actually have bits of a fic featuring some of this written, but it’s super low on my priorities list).

Now, before I finish this already much too long post, I want to quickly go back to the idea of giving up Dorne to marry - the only real example before Arianne and Viserys is Myriah and Daeron, because by the time Elia married, she was no longer Doran’s heir. Obviously, marrying into the royal family is more prestigious than marrying into some other family, and it gets the family of whoever does it more. The Myriah Daeron situation is odd, though, not because Myriah gave up Dorne to be queen, but because the timing is strange and when they were betrothed, Daeron was not yet in the direct line of succession. We’re missing a few details that would make it make more sense. As I see it, there are three potential ways it could have played out, two which make actual sense and one which I don’t think does.

1. When arranging the match, Baelor persuaded Myriah’s father that it would end with Myriah as queen because he would have no children and his sisters would be passed over, resulting in Daeron being directly in the line of succession. This could work because the Martells had more reason to trust in Baelor’s sincerity than pretty much anyone else has had to trust in anyone else’s. Baelor literally walked barefoot down the Boneway to make peace. He’d proven he was serious, and the benefits are obvious.

2. Myriah didn’t sign away her inheritance immediately and the original plan was for Daeron to be her consort. She only gave up Dorne once it was clear she was going to be queen. This makes sense because it would provide the Martells with more insurance against the Targaryens attacking again - a Targaryen would be the prince consort of Dorne.

3. Myriah married Daeron to secure the peace, with no expectation of being queen, and gave up her claim so that the Targaryens would be unable to try to control Dorne through her. This is, I think, the least logical option, because while there are some benefits to that match specifically, rather than one that puts one party in a position of power in the other’s homeland - after all, it symbolizes the union between the families while allowing them to maintain their independence - it’s built on quicksand for that same reason. A marriage to a cousin is not enough to stop a conflict. We’ve seen that before, and from what happened in canon, even marriage to Aegon IV’s son wasn’t enough to stop Aegon IV from trying to attack Dorne again. So this one seems somewhat illogical to me, unless it was just an attempt at buying time.

What does this have to do with Arianne and Edmure? Well...I thought it connected when I started talking, but now I have no idea where I was going with this. And this has been in my drafts for way too long, so I’m just going to give up and post it! Sorry for babbling at you!

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Onyx tells Mc she’s pregnant. They hosts a party for everyone to announce of Onyx’s pregnancy. How they announce it and how everyone react are up to you!

Written by @evoedbd

“Hey babe. Welcome back. How was your outing with Na-” the cheer fell from Cali’s voice, as heavy and rapidly as a brick dropped from a skyscraper. Her heartbeat picked up, even as the feeling of led seeped into every limb, dragging her consciousness towards what felt like a tar pit. Sticky, dooming, encasing.

“Onyx?” She called, brow furrowing as she tried to reconcile the woman who had walked through the door with the usual upbeat, unstoppable Onyx Wren. This woman appeared ashen, pearlescent white save for the usual shadings of her makeup, and the veins running blue beneath her icy skin. Long, flowing blonde hair hung in clumps, tangled around the streaks of meadow green like weeds attempting to devour the most beautiful flowers. Where life had once shone in oceanic green eyes, now there was a dullness, a glazing that only emphasized emptiness. Worse, shoulders which could bare the weight of the world slumped, chained down along with the woman’s feet. No. Onyx’s feet weren’t chained down, they were dragging, as if the act of taking a stride was too much to comprehend yet the need for familiarity and comfort drove the zombie like body onwards.

“Are you ok?” A questioned filled with trepidation. Already, Cali could see that Onyx Wren was absolutely not alright. She could feel it. Sticky hands of a hoard all dragging at her through the bond, making the world entirely too much.

Internally, she fought a war, crossing a list off silently in her search for solutions. What could have hurt Onyx this badly?

A fight with Nahara? Doubtful. Onyx loved that woman, and Nahara had earned that affection. Her hugs were too perfect, rejuvenating and secure. How Cali imagined sinking into a pool of warmed honey or melted chocolate might feel like.

Dorran? Oh, Cali had so many things she could say about him, respect for the dead be damned. Cali was absolutely convinced, out of everyone who had ever existed or ever would, that he was the most deserving the title of Jerk. Lord Jerkington the Gaslighting abuser, the third. Anybody who could do half of what he had done to Onyx whilst claiming to love her, whilst she trusted her body and soul to his romance… Cali couldn’t conceive a punishment fitting enough his horrendous crimes. Her anger had nowhere to go. No conclusion. Nothing dark and despicable enough to bring justice or pay penance. All she could do was vow never to allow Onyx to suffer that ever again.

Vinca? That was delicate ground too, and not an unrealistic conclusion. Cali’s personal grudges aside, after-all Onyx’s twin had turned Cali into a well of supernatural energy with the potential to unleash hell on Earth, Vinca had played her villainous role well. Cali still could trace the numerous scars across Onyx’s body, from throat to gut, which Vinca had left. Also, Vinca had technically gutted Onyx, though she had been possessed by Nizha at the time. Cali wasn’t too sure she could ever erase that image from behind her closed eyes. Or her nightmares.

“I’m pregnant.” Onyx’s voice was so small, so broken and confused. If Cali hadn’t been watching and listening intently, she might have mistaken those words for a breath. Or the aircon.

“… you’re…” The word fell from Cali’s lips on a shocked breath. Well. Babe had definitely been the wrong pet name to use. Suddenly nothing made sense. Her stomach fell out yet her body seemed ready to float to the ceiling, all whilst her nerves suffered a rapid fire mix of dreadful numbness and prickling tingles flowing across her skin to match the static ringing in her ears and pinging around her head.

“I’m so sorry! Please don’t be mad. I’ll be good! I w-won’t disobey o-o-or mess up.” The panic in Onyx’s voice cut Cali to the bone. Onyx fell to her knees, arms wrapped around her abdomen and torso as her shoulders curled inwards. She trembled, green eyes gazing up at Cali as if she were a terrifying Goddess preparing to render judgement upon a defiler. Cali shuddered. Who would want such worship as what Onyx was offering in the moment? Senseless, all-consuming fear? In that moment, Cali realised she could never be an abuser. There was no power in Onyx’s terror, only revulsion. Revulsion that Onyx felt she had to be subservient like this. That her trust had ever been so broken that her default was to cower like a beaten dog, still lovingly licking its own blood from the master’s knuckles.

“I didn’t mean for this, I swear. I-I ca-”

Cali couldn’t listen anymore.

“Onyx. Hey, hey, hey. Shhh, it’s ok. Breathe with me, sweetheart. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” She cooed, collapsing to her own knees before Onyx. The moment she could reach, Cali gently cupped her hands around Onyx’s elbows, tenderly guiding the smaller woman a little closer.

“Reach for me through the bond, how do I feel?” Imploring words were accompanied by every joyful image Cali could summon at that moment. The mewls of kittens, the softness of a puppy’s fur. Seeing Onyx recognise her, even as a dragon. Flying. Watching Onyx fly, be it with the wings of a dragon or across a tightrope in human form. Freedom, beauty, power. Family.

Cali’s heart picked up a marching sprint, beating so rapidly she was positive someone could visibly see her pulse throbbing in her throat if they spared a glance. Pregnant meant baby, which meant children. Onyx. Baby. Onyx. Baby. Onyx’s baby… each time Cali managed to conceive the sentence her heart skipped another beat, beat faster and faster until she was positive her heart would burst. Onyx was having a baby. An actual baby!

“You’re… you’re not mad? You’re happy? B-”

“Onyx. You’re pregnant! How could I not be excited?” Cali began as she lured Onyx to her feet. The former Envy assassin surrendered herself to Cali’s guidance, relaxing even in her confusion. Cali was incredibly careful, her touch remaining delicate, as if she might taint the innocence within Onyx if she moved a single finger incorrectly. Yet, there was also no fear to Cali’s touch. She knew Onyx, just as she knew her own breath. She offered comfort, unconditional support, even without having uttered the words.

“I’m nervous too.” She confessed, finally lowering herself and Onyx onto the couch.

“I mean there are so many things to think about. Is it safe? I mean, what effects on the baby will your dragon side have? Will you lay an egg? I mean, can your body even handle that in human form? Will you be human form for the birth? Who even is the father?”

“I didn’t cheat! I’d never do that to you. Please, you have to believe me.” Onyx’s frantic tone was matched by frantic hands which desperately clutched at Cali. She clung to Cali’s forearm, both forcing Cali to remain close whilst also preparing to defend herself. Green eyes filled with tears, a mix of panic and guilt, dappled with layers of confusion. Despite all of that, Cali saw sincerity. She felt the truth of those words as if they were her own heartbeat.

“Onyx, babe… you died. You died in my arms and came back as a Dragon. Cheating never even crossed my mind. There are some insane magical circumstances that my medical training doesn’t cover. Even if you had cheated or if something had happened, I wouldn’t be angry. I wouldn’t be him. You love me, I believe it with all my heart. Nothing anybody can say or do will make me love you or this baby any less.”

“I didn’t cheat.” Onyx reiterated; her voice much softer yet no less vehement. Her hands surrendered their grasp on Cali, allowing the Asian woman to weave her fingers through Onyx’s. The warmth of her callused hands was enough to earn a soft sigh, though neither woman could confirm who it was from.

“I believe you. D-did somebody hurt you? Onyx, babe, did somebody force himself on you?” The words burnt Cali’s tongue. Bile threatened to rise in her throat. The thought of someone doing that to Onyx. Without the guise of a relationship to force his will, to satiate perverted desires… Cali couldn’t… she couldn’t even imagine it, until she could. From a mental blank, to images of a broken Onyx. To memories of her screams morphed into something entirely different, fitting a different scenario. It was enough to make Cali tremble with fear, revulsion and a rapidly rising tide of rage.

“Nothing happened. Nobody r-” Onyx hesitated, unable to utter the devastating word flashing in Cali’s worst fears.

“- did that.”

“Thank goodness. Then, do you know how this happened?” The gentle question was delivered after a breath of utter relief. Knowing Onyx was safe from that abuse, safe from one of the most brutal of Earthly horrors mankind had ever weaponized, helped untangle the tension in Cali’s aching chest. Her heart stopped seizing in her chest, resuming its marathon sprint.

“I don’t know. Nahara said something about consequences and the past.”

“Rebirth. That was when she was talking about the bond of deceased Envy and the barer of the bite. The possibility of physical manifesta-“ Cali stopped dead. Her mind leapfrogged over the words, gathering them into a net of logic so obscure yet so plausible it felt as if she’d been punched unconscious and now was waking up. Waking to a world where mortal logic no longer applied, and the furthest dreams could come true.

“Oh fuck… Onyx..?” Cali didn’t know if she spoke, only that Onyx’s face pinched in concern. No, not concern. Fear. The murkiness reclaimed clear beauty, obscuring it for all who wished to bathe. It nearly broke Cali to see Onyx shrink, yet her small voice shattered Cali’s heart into smithereens; sent those shards digging into every vein until Cali’s body throbbed with how wrong it was.

“Please don’t get angry.” Onyx whispered, flinching as if expecting Cali to scream. Cali couldn’t. All she could do was go over the basics of Nahara’s theories. A physical manifestation of the bond between Envy, Deceased and Barer of the bite. An echo of the past. The lost reclaimed as new.

“Mine? Ours? Is this..?” Cali begged, she wasn’t and never would be afraid to admit it. Such a glistening possibility was at her fingertips, and she dared reach, hoping against hope itself that the impossible had become even the improbable. A thousand to one? Hell, even a million to one was more than enough. Cali would take any and all chance. Hers. Theirs. A chance to see how she and Onyx may appear a thousand years down the line, a notch in the human species. Proof they had existed, that their coupling had existed. Cali wasn’t dumb enough to consider a baby proof of love, not alone, but also it was. It would be. No matter whether or not that million to one chance was recognized.

“I- I don’t know. It’s possible, probably. I mean, magic? I need to talk to Nahara to find out more. I… it was overwhelming to hear I actually was pregnant and can’t let the dragon out. I just needed time. Needed to talk to you. It could be a manifestation of our bond, or it is something from the past.”

“Dorran.” The name fell from Cali’s lips like a bullet dropped from a tower into the cooling lakes. Oh, how it longed to be thrown like garbage, just as the darkest parts of Cali longed to throw the actual man into a trash compactor and hear him squeal.

“This could be his baby too.” She voiced her conclusion. Even as the words escaped, she felt no change in her heart. There was… she hated the man, she hated the power he had abused over Onyx, just as she hated the idea of him continuing to. Yet, for the baby? For that possibility? Nothing. No hatred, no resentment. No matter how she searched for it. She couldn’t confess how deeply that shocked her. Emotionally, everyone always hoped that they’d accept their partner’s children as their own, but the actuality of that often defied dreams. It was a rare person who could accept such a thing, even in Cali’s situation. To find herself even potentially one of them was humbling, too much, too quickly. Diversion needed.

“That’s one hell of a choice. A dead man, unknown entity, or a key to the gates of hell.” Cali made the understatement of the century after a quiet hissing whistle through her teeth. Remarkably, her tone remained as light as she intended the delivery to be, as if she was discussing what to order for lunch.

“Please don’t leave me.”

“Le-” Cali couldn’t even finish the word. Her body moved on instinct, launching into Onyx’s space so that she could gather the smaller woman into her arms. Leave? Onyx couldn’t leave! No, her brain quickly caught up and corrected her internal malfunction. Onyx’s voice had been so small, the chirp of a bird compared to the roar of a dragon. Regardless, Cali was determined to provide shelter, to cage the willing Onyx within her loving embrace.

“Onyx, you died, I thought I’d never see you again. That I might never have another moment with you, even as you were reforming. Now, I’ll get to watch a baby Onyx Wren grow up! How could I be angry? I don’t care if this child is Dorran’s. Hell, even the Devil himself could be the father and I wouldn’t care. I want to be with you.”

“Even with a baby? A baby you didn’t plan, who m-might not even be yours.” Onyx’s words were serious, more so than any Cali had ever heard escape her gentle lips. They were warning, they were a siege to push Cali away even as Onyx hoped to keep her close. It was the last offering, the final out. Cali understood. Her answer here would shape her life. This answer couldn’t be about comforting Onyx, no matter her urges. It had to be truthful, no matter the pain, no matter…

“Yes.” It was the easiest answer Cali had ever given in her life.

“Onyx, we aren’t naturally biologically compatible for reproduction.” Cali’s obvious assessment earned a watery snort from Onyx.

“Whenever I daydreamed of having children, they were always yours. I was already committed to being a mother to any pet or child you had, to being with you. I want this baby to be ours, I want that more than anything.” Cali had to pause, to actually breathe and let her words sink in. Her chest hurt from how hard her heart was pounding, for how she longed for Onyx to want the same things.

“I’m here and ready to be whatever you need me to be for you both. If you don’t want me to be there as the other parent, I can be the cool aunt. Or a friend. Or a babysitter. Anything, Onyx.” Cali concluded, laying her offering out for Onyx to pick through. Silence dominated the room, save for Cali’s hurried breathing and the pounding of matching heartbeats. Or two heartbeats. Did baby have a heartbeat yet? How far along was Onyx? She made a mental note to ask.

“If you want to be, you know, their mom, then I’d love that too.” Onyx finally broke the silence with a soft yet sure voice, a shy smile tugging on her lips. Cali couldn’t help it, she leapt to her feet, letting forth an excited cheer. Finally, all her nerves burst forth, erupting in her version of a triumphant roar. This was HER family. Hers. Hers, hers, hers!

“There’s nobody else I’d rather raise a baby with. Nobody has ever supported me like you. I just don’t want to take your life away, or be a burden.” Onyx continued, reaching up to tuck some of her chaotic hair out of her face.

“Onyx, this isn’t about supporting you regardless of my own feelings. You’re not taking my life away; you’re giving me a life to fight for. A family. Onyx, our family! You’re having a baby, Onyx! It’s a BABY Onyx! Baby! Yours. Maybe mine. Maybe ours. I feel… just feel me, Onyx! Baby! You’re having a baby!” Cali tried to remain calm and mature, she truly did, yet the urge to move overcame her senses. She paced back and forth, using her entire body to emphasize her points. Big, sweeping gestures of her arms accompanied her escalating excitement, turning her into a goofy rendition of a car yard inflatable.

“Yeah. A baby. You… Sweetheart, can you sit down? Just watching you is tiring.” Onyx’s request was accompanied by a summery laugh, one which calmed Cali for all but three seconds. Then, it was back to pacing, phone whipped out of the pocket of her jean shorts so that she could begin to compose her list.

“Onyx, BABY! A baby! Our baby! We have to tell the others! I’m sorry but no more training for you! Also, none of the trash Darius calls food. We should probably look into supplements too, so that the baby is as healthy as possible. Should I call a dietitian for a food plan? And materials! Are you going to make your own maternity clothes? I got paid this week so I could totally go get some fabrics if you te-”

“Y-you want to tell the others?” Onyx cut in, alarm flooding her tone. Cali froze for a second, recognizing the way Onyx’s surprised voice dipped. Oh, Cali realized, she was behaving entirely differently to anything Onyx had experienced. To how Dorran had reacted. That was enough to have Cali’s internal beast snarling, hating how the past continued to hurt. Dorran had insisted on secrecy, on punishing Onyx. Increasing her training, increasing his bullying. Afterall, that had been cheaper than birth control, or a medically safe… Cali couldn’t finish the thought.

“Of course! Onyx, you’re pregnant! This is like one of the happiest days of my life! Top five, for sure! I’m trying to think of everything we need so that we can be ready for this baby. Like, we need to look into our insurance. I don’t think my workplace insurance covers sexy mamma’s who can turn into dragons. Or Assassins. Is there supernatural insurance I need to know about? Are there any doctors for, well, non-normal human pregnancies? Are there any magical medical guides for this? And birthing classes. We need to look into those too!”

“We…” The pondering tone Onyx used broke Cali out of her packing, leading her to look up from her phone.

“… Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It’s just sinking in, you know? It’s really nice to hear you say it. It sounds right.” Onyx explained, her face taking on a dreamy grin. She was so beautiful, glistening in the afternoon sun through the skyscraper windows. Even messy, Cali couldn’t think of anything more captivating than Onyx. Not the sirens of legend, not the most handsome of men. She doubted if the entire troupe, who were the most attractive people she knew, walked in naked that she’d be able to take off of Onyx.

“It feels right.” She confessed in a soft tone, unable to raise her voice above a whisper. The light in Onyx’s eyes… Cali had never seen something so pure. Green, like gazing up the sun through the underside of a wave. The gleam in them was more varied than a kaleidoscope of colours; brighter than diamonds. She had to look away, while her brain still had some function. There was so much that needed to happen, too many lists to write. Lists! That was a good place to start. Cali could do lists. She helped with stock intake, so a simple list on her phone would be a piece of cake! Oh, and her mother! She had to text her mother. Maybe there were some spare books…

“So, I’m going to text mom about getting some medical books out of storage. I’m pretty sure we didn’t sell all of them. They might have some more details on pregnancy. We have to come up with a way to justify everything, maybe we should discuss giving her sight. I’d prefer not telling her we’re fighting demons though. She’d absolutely spit if her daughter in-law was caught in that! Especially since you’re carrying her grandchild! I’d never live it down if I let you fight in your condition. It’d be “Cali, why are you making your girlfriend do everything? She’s pregnant! My grandbaby needs to grow!””

“Grandchild?” Onyx interrupted Cali’s exaggerated impression of her mother. Gone was the kaleidoscope, gone were the diamonds. The wave had crashed down, sending Onyx flailing into the wild tides of her worst fears without anything to hold her.

“She won’t hate me? She wouldn’t ever believe this child could be yours without knowing everything. She’ll assume I cheated. She’ll think I broke your trust and you’re just standing by me because you’re, well, you. You’re too good to walk away from somebody as broken as me.”

“Onyx, I love you. You are the most… I can’t put it into words. You are my… My light. You are not broken, Onyx. You are a literal dragon. Fierce, strong and beautiful. I am so in love with you that I cannot picture my life without you. This feels like my child already. You’ve only just told me and already I feel as if my heart will burst. Surely you can feel how much I already love them.” Cali almost pleaded, kneeling before Onyx. The current Envy assassin reached out, laying a single hand over Onyx’s quivering knee. Cali could feel everything, the tidal wave of anxiety and fears striking so hard and fast that she was almost physically knocked over. She countered, her mind parrying and weaving.

Pizza in a secret alleyway shop, the way hot cheese melted in her mouth, or the strings hanging from Onyx’s smiling lips. Little hands reaching, trying to steal pineapple as Onyx laughed. This was happiness. Love. Safe, secure, keeping their baby proceeded against her chest. So small, yet inspiring something so large. She had to protect, she needed to. Protect both the joys of her life.

The simple concept of the future flowed through their bond, a shield for Onyx to seek shelter behind. Cali herself was blown away by the intensity of her emotions for a distant possibility.

“I can.” Onyx breathed; tone full of wonder.

“I don’t know why I keep questioning you. You’re always kind and sweet. “

“People have hurt you, Onyx. I’d rather you question me a thousand times, a million times, than ever feel unsafe with me. I love you, and Mom can see how much more me I am with you in my life.” Cali insisted, fixing Onyx with an encouraging look before continuing.

“We had the talk when I told her I was bi. About if I ended up with a girl. We talked again after she met you, officially that is. I told her as long as I was with you, at least one grandchild would not be biological. If we even had children. She fully supports my choices and will love this baby with all her heart. She’ll probably spoil them rotten no matter what we say. She already loves you too! You’re the favourite daughter. She’s going to be so excited for her grandchild. Be prepared for a LOT of baby onesie- OH, this one’s cute! Onyx look!” Cali tried to remain serious, she truly did. Yet, curiosity had taken hold and her thumb had all but developed a mind of its own. Soon, she found herself glancing down at her phone, only to see a lovely pastel themed website, filled with baby onesies. Upon spotting a bear on the third row, she excitedly turned her phone to Onyx, which earned an actual squeal of delight.

“Oh my god, that looks like a little Ripley onesie!” Onyx cooed excitedly, leaning closer to support the phone. She couldn’t help but internally swoon over the adorable little bear onesie, complete with little pink pads on the feet. The little hood with adorable little ears, and the stomach patch. The tail, which concealed the buttons for easy changing.

“Right? I’m buying it! Ohh, it comes in purple! Should I get a little leopard?” Cali declared, reclaiming her phone and swiftly adding two versions of the bear to the cart. When Onyx didn’t respond, she paused, turning her gaze to the expectant mother.

“Onyx? Are you ok? Don’t you like them?” Cali asked, her voice going quieter. Once more, Onyx looked so small, trembling in the face of everything. Overwhelmed, Cali realized. Onyx was entirely overwhelmed.

“Cali. They’re both adorable. I’m just scared. How can you be sure Joyce will be ok with this?”

“Err, It’s my mom. She’ll just be thrilled to have a grandchild, no matter if they are biological or not.” Cali responded, unable to fully put into words how she knew. It was simple. It was her mom. Her mom who had supported her throughout life. Her interest in extreme sports, every bump, break and bruise. Her mom had been the first signing her casts, and selling the demon contraptions that damaged her daughter. When Cali’s father had walked out, her mom had been there, fighting to support a child emotionally and financially whilst she herself fell apart. Through teenage heartbreaks. When Cali hadn’t gotten a date for prom, it was her mother who had shoehorned her into a suit and driven her there. When Cali had finally come out as bisexual, her mom had been the first one demanding to know what type of girls Cali liked, gossiping about the boys Cali had only ever expressed interest in.

“But what if they come out with wings? Or, you know, not human?”

“Aside from me being worried how you’ll push that out of a hole the size of a lemon?” Cali questioned with a blink.

“Cali!” Onyx squealed in a mix of disbelief and horror. Her hands came up to her face, covering her suddenly flaming cheeks as she let forth an ungodly groan. Cali couldn’t help but be reminded of Ripley, how the bear concealed her muzzle when Onyx flew across the tightrope.

“Oh god, I don’t want to think about what its going to do to my… well, you know.”

“You’ll still be gorgeous, even if things are a bit different. You know, when I picture mom you, you’re always stunning. I can’t help but think our daughter will be scared her boyfriends will run off with her sexy mamma. You’ll turn into the sexiest MILF.” Cali purred, flopping onto the couch beside Onyx once again with what she hoped was a seductive grin. Strands of shaggy brown hair fluttered everywhere, sticking to Cali’s face in the most unflattering of ways. If asked, Cali would absolutely blame her uncooperative hair for her failed delivery, despite her history of appearing more like a vaguely romantic crab than seductive. Somehow, her dorky display calmed Onyx, judging by how tensed shoulders finally relaxed, and the show-stopping smile returned to her lips.

“That’ll be you, Sweetheart.” She purred in return, nuzzling closer. Cali’s phone fell to the couch, forgotten as the Envy assassin wrapped her girlfriend up in her arms. Both sighed. Everything was right with the world again, at least for a few moments.

“Mmmhmmm, agree to disagree. If our baby is born anything but human, then we tell mom the whole entire truth and teach her how to babysit. The troupe can’t always be around when we need naps, so mom will be happy to have a chance to spoil her grandkid rotten. Besides, she raised me, a dragon will be nothing her brooms of vengeance cannot handle.”

“But, what if the troupe hate me? I can’t help you guys like this.”

“You can’t turn into a dragon because you’re pregnant. That means you’re vulnerable, not useless.” Cali pointed out, giving Onyx an affectionate squeeze around the shoulders.

“Nitza will be after me. She’ll want me, and the baby.”

“I’ll die before I let anybody touch my family.” Cali growled; all traces of her humanity lost in a snarl vicious enough to rival any demon. She felt the rage bubbling, thicker than molten lava in the cradle of a volcano. It consumed, burning through her rationality until she couldn’t tell where her own protective rage ended and Onyx’s began. Onyx may be the dragon, yet Cali’s entirely human body produced sounds to rival Onyx’s alternate form. The former Envy assassin reached out, wrapping her own hand around Cali’s clenched fist, wiggling her fingers between Cali’s until the current Envy had to relax her fist. Had to let Onyx in.

“Ripley and I will protect you, we can take craving shifts! It’ll mean I won’t be on the streets with the troupe, but that does’t mean we can’t both help out here more. We can watch Avi, which will be awesome practice for baby. I can keep gear up to scratch, work on the bikes and you can have more time to design. I know your fingers must be itching to do something creative.”

“They are…” Onyx sighed l, seemingly content to have settled Cali’s rage. The blonde tucked her feet up onto the couch, barely pausing to kick her sneakers off before she wiggled her toes in silent satisfaction. Cali couldn’t help but tighten her arm around Onyx, smiling when Onyx responded by leaning into Cali’s shoulder, forehead buried in chaotic hair.

“but the others will be out fighting while I’m stuck here. It feels like hiding away and doing nothing.” Onyx trailed off, tensing. The sun set over beautiful greens when Onyx closed her eyes, the bedazzling piercing through her cheek acting like the moon across the skies of her expressions. For a moment, she trapped the soft, delicate flesh of her lower lip between gleaming teeth, as if gathering the courage to speak.

“I keep hearing Dorran.” The whispered confession had the dragon within Onyx roaring with rage, something which echoed through the bond. Cali shuddered, brows furrowing as spots took over her vision. For that brief moment she could feel it, the war within Onyx. The uncertainty and doubt mixed with rage. The latter, Cali empathized with. It burned just as brightly within her own heart, feeding into a loop of fury that promised to spiral out of control. Cali didn’t let it, she couldn’t.

Soft feathers, like laying on a marshmallow. The warmth of a spa day, the relaxation. Sticky and wet along the side of her head, into her hair. The rasp of an impossibly large tongue. Laughter. Pride. Love. The certainty of a promise.

“Ignore everything he told you.” Cali urged, barely keeping her opinion to herself. Now was not the time for her to rant about how pissed she was at her girlfriend’s ex.

“Onyx, you aren’t hiding away doing nothing. Not only are you holding a literal dragon back, you’re growing a person! Or a dragonling. You are doing the hardest job in the world. You’re creating a little Onyx! You’re nurturing and providing a safe place for baby to grow. You’re growing a life, Onyx, and sustaining them until they can sustain themselves. Even when you sleep, your body will be working. For nine months, you never get a break. That is way more exhausting than fighting demons for an hour. Can you imagine Cal’s face if he snarks at you? You can be like “Bitch, I grew a nerve cluster today, I’m currently working on a kidney.”

“Sweetheart… You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” There was no laughter in Onyx’s voice, despite the glee taking spark in her eyes. Genuine awe was slathered across her face, radiating until Cali could feel the accompanying emotions through the bond. The littler woman untangled herself from her partner, reaching out to take Cali’s hands for a few moments before her cheeks tinged pink. Without a word, Onyx lured Cali closer, placing the mechanic’s hands over her pale abdomen.

“Nup. I’m scared too, and excited. I just know that you’re my everything, and we’ll figure this out together.” Cali’s words were soft, whispered into the stillness they found themselves submerged in. Cali’s hands were burning, her palms prickling with the tingling heat as she processed what she was doing. Caramel and milk, that was the closest things Cali could associate to the swirl of their different skin colours. Her fingers looked so dark compared to Onyx, casting her in an exotic light, or perhaps Onyx in a mystical one. The duet of tones was dreamlike, earning the largest smile as Cali finally processed the meaning of the gesture. She stared, illogically fearing her callused hands might hurt Onyx and the baby. A breath, accompanied by trembling muscles the few moments before Cali surrendered and placed her hands flat against Onyx’s belly. It was unbelievable! Onyx had barely put on any weight, just enough to be barely noticeable, yet suddenly her body felt entirely new. The definition of her stomach was still there, all lithe muscle and sublime softness, yet there was more too. A curve, small enough to be imagination yet large enough for Cali’s hands to trace. To cup. To protect from the world. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill down her swollen cheeks as her smile grew large enough to rival the Cheshire cat.

“Oh, names! We need to start thinking about names!” Cali added enthusiastically, blinking away her tears. This was her future, sitting just beneath the palms of her hands. A little Wren growing, expecting them to have the perfect name. Cali began to panic. What name could be enough for their baby? Forget names, what title best fit until they decided? The baby was too clinical. Baby had that familiar quality Cali was looking for, but also couldn’t be the name they used forever.

“But I’m barely even showing yet.” Onyx playfully protested, bringing her hands to rest over Cali’s, holding them to her belly. Love. It was so pure, so overpowering. Cali lost it. Her tears began to trail down her cheeks, accompanied by little sniffles as she looked hopefully up to Onyx. Every hope and dream she had flooded the bond, sweeping them both away on a tide so impossibly sweet that the real world dared not invade. Even through their sniffles and tears, Cali laughed, appraising Onyx on a particularly important fact.

“It’s never too early to start thinking! Trust me, it’ll be the first thing my mother asks.”

[kanamesharisenwrites]

kh’s story snippet celebration sendoff, entry #4

Honestly, I started this fic as a counterpoint to all the "Kakashi-is-a-sex-god" content I've seen over the years. It was going to explore how his past trauma - his dad's suicide, underage integration into the shinobi system, losing every member of his team (including two people he had burgeoning crushes on) - a lackluster first experience, and the unrealistic expectations created by his early exposure to pornographic materials led to Kakashi choosing a life of celibacy. Fast forward to him as a very frustrated Hokage with Sakura as his personal physician, and we have a recipe for some emotionally-heavy sexual healing

(unfortunately, I never got past Kakashi at age six)

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Kakashi Hatake/Sakura Haruno (intended) Word Count: 603 Genre: Kakashi-centric Rating: T Warnings: canon-typical childhood trauma Summary: // paucity - the presence of something only in small or insufficient quantities; see also: the history of one Kakashi Hatake’s sex life //

... [ paucity ]

[ age 5 ]

Kakashi stands before the Hokage to receive his hitai-ite, dwarfed by the academy teachers that flank him on either side. Hiruzen studies him for a moment, taking his measure. Kakashi endures it in the same manner as the rest of the attention he receives: detached, aloof, and silent.

"So young," Hiruzen says, lips pressed thin. "Are you sure you're ready to be a shinobi?" The teacher on Kakashi's right opens her mouth to speak, but Hiruzen raises his hand. "The question is for the boy."

"Yes, I am, Lord Hokage." 

The words tumble from his lips reflexively, mechanical and dull. But he feels the truth of them beating through his tiny heart. All he has left is the shinobi blood running through his veins, the deed to his father's ancestral home, and a shame that should not be his to bear. If becoming a tool for Konoha preserves what little he has, Kakashi will grasp that fate and never let go. Yes, he is young. But he understands enough of the world to know this path is preferable to the others he could take. He holds the Hokage's piercing gaze and stands his ground.

Hiruzen nods and walks away. "Very well." He sits at his desk and pulls out a thin folder. Then he stamps the first page with his official seal of approval. "Congratulations, Kakashi of the Hatake clan. You are now a genin. You'll receive your first assignment within the week."

"Thank you, Lord Hokage."

Hiruzen eyes him again, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. After a few more seconds of deliberation, he opens a drawer and takes out a different stamp and ink well. A bright red seal is pressed onto the front of Kakashi's folder with a firm, determined hand.

"You are dismissed."

(Later, after he's come to terms with the injustice that permeated his childhood, Kakashi thanks Hiruzen for this small act of mercy. At least one piece of his innocence is his own to lose as he sees fit.)

[ age 6 ]

Kakashi works without a team for the first year of his shinobi career. He is, however, assigned a mentor for training purposes. 

Most of Kakashi's missions involve using his presence to complete the disguise of an adult jounin while serving as their back-up. The tactic is not uncommon in the shinobi world. But few young ninja carry the skill set Kakashi does. The expert lethality hidden behind his cherub cheeks takes both enemies and allies by surprise. His excellent track record commends him. When the next chuunin exams come around, one of his former colleagues scouts him for a vacant spot on the team under their care.

Kakashi is the only member of the team that makes it through the first round.

In the finals, the blase manner in which he executes violence against his much older opponent earns him a ruthless reputation. Murmurs roll through the crowd when he is crowned champion, suspicious and skeptical. Grim lines mark Hiruzen’s face as he bestows Kakashi with the rank of chuunin. His trainer, Minato-sensei, is the only adult to offer him a genuine, heartfelt congratulation. 

As the crowds begin to disperse, Kakashi spies several of the children he knows from his brief time at the academy. Some glare. Others turn their noses up and walk away. A few faces hold terrified expressions, eyes wide and skittish. But at the front of the group, Obito stands with a grin and gives Kakashi a thumbs-up. On Obito's right, Rin smiles and waves shyly. 

(At the sight, Kakashi's heart thumps, and for the first time, he feels victorious.)