#this is happening watch your back cHoSeN cOuSiN

[runningfrom2am]

the wedding // LTPF

summary: the wedding of the year, i can see it now.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. she's a bridezilla for REAL and i wish i included more of that energy, protective!coryo, idk people are drinking alcohol? (its a wedding, so duh), also TW for Livia and r's dad just existing p much.

based on this ask and this ask!

series masterlist // playlist

Everything was perfect. Absolutely everything you had dreamt of your whole life when it came to your wedding. Coryo had told you money was no object, and therefore, you spared no expense. You had a strong theory that your father was being sent every last bill, since you knew neither of you had anything more than what the Plinth's were providing for school, but that was the farthest thing from your problem. It was the least your father could do.

The hardest part of the whole thing, even before deciding who would give you away without your father, was deciding on your maid of honour. You didn't have many good friends, or friends at all, outside of your new husband. At one point, you wondered if had things gone differently, would you have chosen Lucy Gray?

Clemensia Dovecote was a fine enough choice. "Let me just say," Her speech began, hitting the side of her overfilled wine glass with a fork. "I have called this wedding for years, and no one believed me." She shot a smile over to you at the head table. "For anyone who doesn't know me, I'm Clemensia. Y/N's Maid of Honour." She had just thrived on the title since you offered it to her which, while annoying, was good because she took her position very seriously. She was the perfect choice- she looked nice, presentable in a dress you had picked out, but the colour clashed with the yellow in the whites of her eyes and the few scales that were yet to fall off after the snake bite. She looked fine, but she also made you look better. "But like I said, I knew this would happen."

She was drunk, repeating things in a way that made you cringe internally but nevertheless, you had to watch. The lights spread across the large backyard of the Plinth's mansion lit up the night beautifully, bouncing off every white and red rose you had spread about. You were very grateful to them for allowing you to host the reception there. They had done a lot for you in the last year since you returned from Twelve.

Mrs. Plinth was very involved with planning the wedding- she loved the winter wedding and leaning into it as a theme. It worked out nicely because it gave her something to think about other than the death of her only child, and she was a tremendous help and support to you. You were truly grateful, but this day was hard on them without Sejanus there. She had mentioned on more than one occasion that Sejanus would have been the best man, and you only slightly doubted that. You wouldn't want it to be anyone else- but Coryo would have had different thoughts, you're sure.

"How much longer will this go on for?" Your now husband whispers in your ear, fake smile on his face as he also has to listen to Clem's rambling.

"I really don't know." You reply with the same fake smile, knowing that eyes were on you just as much as her.

"Some choice for a maid of honour." He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, a playful smile on your lips. "Oh, well, I would have gone with Arachne Crane but, you know..."

"Fair enough." He mumbles, sitting back in his seat. "Are you really the only woman in the Capitol who isn't insufferably annoying? You should have been your own maid of honour."

"Well it was her or Tigris, and Tigris is prettier than me so she wasn't really an option." You hum, grabbing his hand under the table as you keep your eyes focussed on Clemensia, not paying attention to a word she says.

Coryo laughs. "Tigris is not prettier than you."

"She's your cousin, your opinion is invalid." You shrug it off.

"Doesn't change the fact that I'm right." He argues, squeezing your hand.

You don't reply, and you let his hand go to clap once Clem is finally finished. You had already eaten, so now it was supposed to be the "fun part", as Clemensia so aptly put it in her speech. You found it rude, yes, but it wasn't a big deal and after tonight you wouldn't have to see her again for a while.

It was brisk out, being a winter wedding you should have expected that, but you still had another dress to change into so you excuse yourself from the table, kissing your husband goodbye as he gets up as well.

You hadn't allowed him to see any of your dresses, and this would be your third one today alone. He loved every one, and did not expect to be disappointed by the next. Or the one after that.

"Hey, congrats, Coriolanus." He tears his gaze away from your retreating figure to whoever was talking to him.

"Thank you, Hilarius." He nods, smiling politely at him and reaching out to shake his hand.

"I saw this one coming miles away." His classmate laughs. "You remember that though, right?"

"When you said that if I wasn't going to go after her you would?" Coryo asks, eyebrow raised. "I do remember that. It makes me wonder who let you in..." It's meant as a joke as he makes a point of looking past him toward the security they have at the entrance.

He furrows his brow when his eyes catch on your father standing there, arguing with one of the security guards, his wife by his side.

"If you would excuse me..." He says, walking toward them before Hilarius could even respond.

"Ugh, I know. Why did you even invite her, Y/N/N?" Clemensia complains as Tigris helps you step out of your gown.

"Who?" You ask, unsure what she was even talking about.

"Livia." She states, yet another glass of red wine in her hand.

"Oh, I kind of had to. Connections and all that." You shrug. You weren't Livia's biggest fan, she had a "greater than thou" attitude that drove you up the wall, but who in this city didn't?

"Ah, yes. Of course." She hums. "She had a lot of audacity to show up in that dress though..."

Your head whips around to look at her. "What dress?"

"You haven't seen her?" She gasps. "I thought you saw her! It's this white-based floral, really questionable for someone else's wedding. Looks like a tablecloth." She accentuates the statement with a sip from her glass.

Your jaw ticks and you look toward the door, already seeing red.

"Hey, Y/N, it's okay." Tigris rests her hands on your shoulders, prompting you to look at her. "We'll tell security, they can escort her out if that's what you want."

You take a breath, forcing a smile on your face. "Let's not bother them. I'll just go chat with her." You smile, stepping out of the dress in bare feet, quickly grabbing Clemensia's overfilled wine glass from her hand on your way out the door.

"Y/N, Wait! Don't!" Tigris calls after you, well aware of your notorious temper by now, but you don't listen.

You're in your white slip when you storm back out to the reception area through the back patio, immediately and quickly scanning the crowd for the guest in question. You know you have seconds before Tigris likely tries to stop you, but you know Clemensia won't. Then, you see her.

You're seething already. That's practically a wedding dress on its own. You would kill her.

You stomp across the ground, tunnel vision locked on her as she raises her glass to her lips, laughing, and talking with other guests, completely careless to what she had done wrong. Well, she would learn today.

"Livia Cardew!" You grin, walking up to her. "I don't recall sending you an invitation, but here you are!"

Immediately, she's taking in your appearance, giggling at your lack of appropriate attire and shoes. "Y/N! Congratulations." She says, eyes finally locking with yours again.

"May I have a word?" You ask, already grabbing her arm and pulling her away.

"Is there a problem here?" Coriolanus asks, addressing only his security as your father stands there, red-faced with anger.

"Yeah, they've got no invite." He nods, showing Coryo the list in his hands which he quickly pretends to look over.

"Oh! Sorry, yes. There you are..." He says, pointing down at the bottom and your father visibly relaxes. "Under the title there that says 'not welcome under any circumstances'... Well then." He looks at your father now for the first time, tilting his head at him.

"No, this is my daughter's wedding and we will be let in!" He demands, raising his voice.

Coryo clicks his tongue, slightly shaking his head. "No, sir, I thought we were clear on this."

"No, you said the wedding. This, if I'm not mistaken, is the reception. I made my sacrifice. Now, I'm here."

"And only about two hours late." Coryo hums uninterestedly, looking down at his watch. "Father of the year."

Your father's fuming, and it's hard for Coryo to not laugh in his face. "I paid for everything here! You can't deny us entry!"

"I can." Coryo says. "Well, actually, my apologies. Mrs. Y/L/N, you are welcome to come in, if you'd like." He smiles at her, polite demeanour flicked back on like a light switch.

Your father quickly pulls her back behind him. "It's both of us or neither of us. Go ask our daughter." He states, gripping tightly on her arm.

"Oh, no. I won't be ruining our wedding." Coryo shakes his head, firm in his decision. "I'll tell Y/N you send your love, Ma'am. Have a good night."

"No! You will let us in right now or-" Your father's tantrum is interrupted by a commotion across the yard, drawing Coryo's attention. People gasp in shock, and then he sees you, about to absolutely lay into Livia Cardew, who now has red wine all over her face and the front of her dress.

"I must be going, now." Coryo tells them, turning back to the security guard and adjusting the cuffs of his shirt to be able to roll up his sleeves. "If you don't mind, call for peacekeepers to escort him from the property. Thank you."

He doesn't have time to hear your father's angry disagreement as he walks away.

"So," You drop her arm, turning to face her. "I'm not sure if you are aware, but this isn't your wedding." You spit, gesturing to her dress. "And listen, I get it! You're jealous. That's fine, but it's extremely tacky and honestly embarrassing for you to wear a white dress to a wedding that's not yours."

Livia's lips fall open in shock, looking down at her dress before she laughs. "Y/N, come on. It really isn't that serious, you realize that, right?"

You stare at her for a moment, weighing your options. You could smash the glass over her head like you wanted to, demand that she leave immediately, or, you could 'accidentally' spill the glass on her. Before you complete the thought, you're throwing the contents of Clemensia's glass at the front of her dress, smiling as it splatters up over her face and in her hair, dripping down the front of her expensive-looking gown.

"Oops."

Livia gasps, wiping the red substance from around her eyes and flicking it off. "I thought that for one day you could be normal! God, you are vile!" She's practically screaming now.

"This is entirely your fault, you do realize that, right?" You tilt your head at her, a slight laugh under your tone. "If you wanted my husband just say that."

"I- ugh!" She groans in frustration and anger, swiping her hands over the liquid on her chest and flicking it all at you, staining the perfectly white satin of your slip. You look down at it, and then back at her. You were about to go through the roof.

The amount of people watching in the immediate vicinity is the only thing keeping you from grabbing her hair and shoving her head into the dirt. You decide to scream instead.

It turns into more of a wail, pumping angry tears into fake sad ones. Coryo is there in a second. "Darling, what's happened?" He asks, horrified as he looks between the two of you, grabbing your shoulders.

"I-" You sniff, pointing to the girl in front of you. "I just came to offer her something to change into because that is out of dress code and I tripped and-" You hiccup as he's rubbing up and down your bare arms. "It was an accident, and then she... It was just an accident! Now my dress is ruined and, and-"

He turns his gaze to Livia who just looks pissed while you ramble on about having had a little too much to drink, that was all. He's sure that's not what happened, he knows his wife better than that, but this show was not for him. He looks her up and down, visibly disgusted by her choice of dress. It honestly looks better now.

"Coriolanus that's not-" She chuckles with the shock of the accusation, shaking her head as she pleads with him.

"It's time for you to go." He tells her, looking toward a member of security who's not busy with your father, quickly waving him over.

Livia looks at the approaching security man in shock. "I didn't do anything!"

"That dress and causing a scene over it is more than enough." He states, wrapping an arm around your waist and wiping your tears from your cheeks. "Let's get you some water, Darling. It's okay..."

"It's not!" You cry, gesturing to the few small drops of wine on the front of your dress. "It's ruined! She ruined everything!"

Just as she's about to be escorted out, you make eye contact with her, offering a smug smile. She scoffs, which earns her a grab on the arm and a more forceful expulsion from the reception.

"Y/N!" Tigris is rushing across the lawn toward you, careful not to stumble in her shoes and bridesmaids' dress. "What happened?" She asks, addressing her cousin now.

"She's okay, there was just an accident with a glass of wine. We're just going to take a few minutes. I'll help her change." He explains to her.

She nods, looking worriedly down at the small stains in your dress. "I should be able to get this out, alright?" She assures you, rubbing a clean spot of the fabric between her fingers to make sure.

"Okay, thank you." You sniff, leaning into your husband's side as he guides you back up to the house.

You get inside and upstairs to what has become your dressing room and secondary bedroom over the last year. As soon as he shuts the door behind you, you can't hold your laughter back anymore. You're practically doubled over with it, and immediately Coryo understands. He chuckles, shaking his head at you.

"What a show..." He grins fondly, pulling you into a hug which you happily return.

"Oh, you liked it?" You giggle, coming down from your laughing fit.

"It was wonderful." He agrees, kissing the top of your head. "For a moment I was worried about you."

"Aw, really?" You look up at him, jutting your lip out in a pout.

"Definitely." He hums, kissing you softly. "Now come on, let's get you changed, huh?"

"Please." You nod, kissing him again before pulling back to pull your next dress from the closet. "I was supposed to wear this underneath, but now I can't." You sigh, hanging the full dress on the door before pulling the wine-stained one over your head.

"Just that will do, I suppose." Coryo mumbles, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you toss the slip onto the ground.

"Oh, you suppose, do you?" You chuckle, reaching up to pull the new dress from its hanger.

"Mhm." He nods, planting a kiss in the crook of your neck. "Makes my job easier later."

You laugh, blush spreading over your cheeks and flushing your chest while you unzip the back. You carefully balance as you step into the opening in the fabric, pulling it up around your waist.

"Don't rush, Darling. It will probably take you a while to recover before we can return to the party." He says, watching you adjust the skirt before you plan on zipping it up.

"Good point." You agree, but make no effort to stop until Coryo places his hand over yours.

"What should we do with all this time we have to kill, hm?" He's already leaning down to kiss over the back of your neck.

"I feel like you have an idea..." You mumble, tilting your head to adjust to his presence.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" He asks as he gently pushes the fabric back down to drop in a pool around your ankles.

"You may have mentioned it..." You turn under his palms as they land on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "And I love you too. More than you could ever imagine, Coryo."

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

[fanfic-recs-01]

Miraculous LadyBug Fics

This is a list of Miraculous Ladybug fics I like on AO3, if you have any recs for me feel free to send me some!

I have a separate list for Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Damian Wayne Fics Here: Part 1 Part 2

Updated 11/2/24

Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Felix Graham De Vanily

Hey, Little Songbird by charlietheepic7 *Finished*

~Really, Felix couldn't believe his cousin sometimes. Marinette was talented, beautiful, kind, and had a crush on Adrien bigger than the mansion, yet Adrien was blind to the treasure right in front of him. "Just a friend," indeed.

Well, if Adrien wasn't going to do anything, it wouldn't matter if Felix... snatched her up?~

Welcome To The Back by Geeeny *Finished*

~Marinette Dupain-Cheng sits alone in the back. Until she doesn't.~

birds of a feather by WithLovePoohBear *Finished*

~When Mme Bustier’s class gets a new student, Marinette might just finally find true friends who love and support her for who she is.

But more accurately, she finds her home.~

Pen Pals by That_Kwami_plagg  *Finished*

~Marinette and Felix have been Pen Pals for two years. She tells him everything. All of the abuse, lies and manipulations. He became her sanctuary, and her his. What happens when Felix moves to France? Can he help her through her struggles, or will he be another victim of Lila?~

Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Tim Drake

Tiny Tim by LeoLeonte *Finished*

~Tim leaned back on the chair. Disrespect was a common occurrence at the meetings he attended but usually people were far more subtle about it.

In which sleep deprivation makes people do, and say stupid things.~

The Contingency by AbyssalGuardian *Finished*

~After Marinette loses the support of her parents she decides that it’s time for her to enact one of her contingency plans and disappear.

Where better to disappear than Gotham?~

coup de foudre (came with a lightning bug) by newdog14 *Finished*

~“So unfortunately I’m being forced to turn in my resignation without having a replacement trained just yet,” Marinette said, looking genuinely regretful.

“Marry me!” Tim blurted out, and Marinette blinked at him in shock~.

Damsel in Distress by Izanae *Finished*

~All Marinette wanted to do was check out the competition.

Instead, she finds herself at the mercy of a Rogue - and a certain Red bird.~

Misc.

No Hesitation by orphan_account *Finished*

~Marinette could never have foreseen just how quickly Lila's plan would work - but now a new school year has begun and she has transferred to a new school that could support her fashion career far better than Dupont ever could.~

Accidentally on Purpose by LadyLiterature

~When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them, if any at all.~

Multi-mouse will multi-wreck your shit by Assassinscred, Bloodhungrywolfpack *Finished*

~The whole world is watching the live stream as Multi-mouse's miraculous is ripped from her neck. They are all watching as the girl underneath is revealed. The super hero community, specifically the Bat clan, are stunned as she continues to fight, berating her foe the whole way.

With this new public knowledge, Batman once again reaches out to offer his assistance with the situation. Unlike a few years ago, this time Ladybug accepts.~

Siren Song by MelsCalamity *Unfinished*

~Or the story how Marinette Dupain-Cheng one night randomly woke up in Gotham City and suddenly got adopted by the Gotham City Sirens.~

[whenmemorydies]

Ancestors and The Bear

Phew, the discourse in season 3 of The Bear on legacy was STUNNING to me. This post by @gingergofastboatsmojito and episodes 3x01 Tomorrow and 3x07 Legacy have been sitting on my heart since I finished my binge of the show. Some thoughts under the cut. (I say "some" but this is another long ass post, soz).

If seasons 1 and 2 of The Bear went into the impact of our birth families on each of us, season 3 shifted pretty squarely to talking about the impact of our professional mentors on our lives. I've described those mentors as culinary ancestors, which as a concept I get into below. I loved this aspect of this season and the show generally. It is so rich and I feel like I'm only going to scratch the surface of it here. Keen to hear others' thoughts on this too.

Legacy and Ancestry

In 3x07 Legacy, Carmy talks to Marcus about the idea of legacy in the context of chefs he had worked with - how those chefs had talked to him about how their work would carry on through iterations and generations of subsequent chefs and restaurants that came after them. I'll include both a transcript and screenshots of this conversation below:

Carmy: Like, um, something would start somewhere, and then, uh, people would take that thing and then they would take it somewhere else. So, all these parts of an original restaurant, they would end up at a new restaurant and that kind of thing. That would happen over and over again. And then all these parts of all these restaurants, they would sort of-- You know, they would find each other. And then new people would take those parts and they would put 'em into their restaurant. And the whole thing, it would, um-- It would start to happen all over again.

Marcus: So, like a family tree or something?

Carmy: [looks to Syd who has her back to him, closing her locker] Yeah. Yeah, exactly.

Most folks understand ancestry to refer to our family or genetic lineage. When I was in university, I learned about intellectual ancestors or genealogy: where one can trace your intellectual lineage - the thinkers and creators that have shaped your understanding of the world and/or your chosen profession. I think its useful to take this concept and apply it to The Bear to help understand what the show is saying about legacy. I wouldn't limit the concept to "intellectual" ancestry though. It might be more helpful to talk about culinary ancestors in this context because the process of creating food - crafting dishes - isn't solely an intellectual exercise. It engages our intellect yes, but also each of our senses, our memories (recall that chocolate banana from 2x10 The Bear), and the need to nurture and be nurtured.

Culinary Ancestors

Carmy's culinary ancestors are varied given his work history. We know he's cooked under some of the best chefs in the culinary world of The Bear, including: Daniel Boulud (of Daniel), René Redzepi (of NOMA), Thomas Keller (of The French Laundry), David Field (a sociopathic Joel McHale, of Eleven Madison Park), and Andrea Terry (a sublime Olivia Colman, of Ever). I'd also include here Mikey, Donna and Natalie Berzatto. I'd include cousins Richie Jeremovich and Michelle Berzatto as well. These are the home and line cooks Carm grew up with, watched in his mother's kitchen and at The Beef. He took his lessons - the good and the bad, learnt voluntarily and involuntarily - from all of these people, incorporated them into his working self and transmuted them into his food.

In particular, I've talked here about Chef Terry and the valuable lesson of "every second counts" that she carried with her as she mentored waves of chefs through her restaurant, Ever. That post also talks about the parallels between Terry and Syd (which were even more evident in season 3), the latter of whom I'd argue is also one of Carmy's culinary ancestors ("you make me better at this").

I wish we had more information about Sydney and her influences. We know that prior to The Beef, she worked at restaurants Smoque BBQ, Alinea and Avec. We meet at least one of her mentors, Chicago restauranteur Donnie Madia in 2x03 Sundae and 2x10 The Bear, as well as Nayia at the fictional Verdana French Bistro (which ends up closing by 2x09 Omelette). They each offer up small insights into Sydney: that her food is amazing and that she is always "trying to be the best." Carmy is also undoubtedly one of Sydney's culinary ancestors, as infuriating and withholding as he can be. I'm also certain that Sydney's parents and the cultural history/ies that she's inherited through them are part of her culinary lineage as well. I really, really hope that we get much more insight into this side of her next season.

Respect, mentorship and lineage

One of the things that first drew me to The Bear was the respect that the show gave its characters of colour. In particular, the opportunity and support given to people of colour from a working class operation like The Beef to continue into the fine dining world of The Bear. I've spoken a bit about this here.

I haven't seen a dynamic on television before, where folks from the backgrounds like the POC characters in The Bear are from, are backed in the way they are on the show. Where there are mentors who will invest in them to train them up, and who will take those folks with them as they move into more elite and skilled spaces. Hell, I have barely seen this happen in the roughly two decades that I've been in wage-earning employment myself. Lets be clear, capitalism does not incentivise this kind of shit. Its why certain industries, including the world of fine dining, remain largely if not completely exclusive, demarcated by gender, race and class.

Yes this season was fucked in terms of which characters were getting prioritised for screen time over key Black characters like Sydney and Marcus (the Faks can genuinely go fuck). The lack of care given to Marcus, in particular, whose mother's passing was treated almost perfunctorily in comparison to a wholly unnecessary conversation amongst the entire crew about Cl@ire in 3x02 Next (quoting Richie: "who cares?!"), was also fucked. I would have preferred to have spent more time with Syd, Marcus, Tina, Ebraheim, Sweeps, Manny and Angel than listening to Neil, Ted and fucking Sammy (?!) Fak blather their way through precious minutes during this show.

But even with the above, The Bear regularly manages to floor me with beautiful moments of mentorship, leadership and love featuring characters of colour on the show. This is particularly the case in the relationships between culinary ancestors Carm and Sydney with "descendants" Marcus and Tina.

Birth of the The Bear lineage

Recall 1x08 Braciole where Sydney tells Marcus that after she finished culinary school, she spent all her money eating her way through New York. She says that she had the best meal she's ever eaten while she was there. With Marcus' gentle prodding, we find out that the person who created that meal, was Carmy.

Its not until the first episode of season 3 when we see how this actually played out, for both Carmy and Syd. I won't rehash the details of this scene because it is truly beautiful filmmaking to behold. Please if you haven't already, go watch 3x01 in its entirety. Have tissues nearby.

I will say, that in the best meal Syd ever had, Carmy literally served up his heart and lifeblood (check the cut of the fish, the crimson of the blood orange decoction).

That meal - that seed of inspiration from Carmy - birthed something in Sydney, something that would push her to find Carmy much later, working at his brother's sandwich shop.

Together these two incredibly talented chefs started their own lineage, taking what they knew and investing it into The Beef and eventually, The Bear:

And then, the next generation of collaboration and inspiration emerges:

This is why the visuals in 3x01 Tomorrow, with Syd sitting in quiet contemplation of Carm's dish, are so poignant. From 1x01 System, Carm and Syd have been growing their branch of their shared culinary family tree, nurturing it alongside those of their respective ancestors:

In 3x01 Tomorrow, we see that tree literally emerging from the moment Sydney meets Carm, on a plate.

It all starts when Sydney leaves culinary school and decides to make the most of her time in New York, eating at every place she could think of including, at Eleven Madison Park. And when Carmen, after losing Mikey, decides to make a few seconds count, taking ownership of a dish that he knows is going to be stolen from him and bastardized otherwise. The rest is history, or legacy.

Author's note:

I just wanted to draw attention to the fact that this show is also an exercise of mentorship and collaboration: Ayo Edebiri directing 3x06 Napkins under the guidance of Calo and Storer. Ramy Youssef directing 2x04 Honeydew under the guidance of Storer who had previously directed him on and produced Ramy. The fucking force of nature that is veteran Liza Colón Zayas being directed by Ayo. Jeremy describing the filming of 2x06 Fishes as akin to watching masters at work. Of course any television production is a collaborative effort and there are countless names I'm not familiar with who have put their precious time and energy into making this beautiful thing. I just thought it worth mentioning that at times, this show glimmers with truths, and I think thats because, in some way, they're in the marrow of the thing.

[shelbgrey]

Hey, sweetie! Could you do something for “Being Harry Potter's twin sister?”. You know... Their whole trajectory, their discovery of Sirius and Remus (who might be her godfather). She has an unusual friendship with Neville and the Weasleys (especially the twins and Fred, who she has a crush on and is fully reciprocated with). Thanks for the attention 🌷🩶.

Being Harry Potter's Twin sister Headcanons:

Paring: Fem!Reader x Brother!Harry Potter, Fem!Reader x Fred Weasley.

Summary: your life as the chosen one's sister.

A/n: so I might split this up with each year. Sorry this took so long and it's not edited.

🧡Master List 🧡Potter MasterList

So I feel like you and Harry would be totally different, and it might sound stereotypical, but you look like your mom with your dad's eyes.

Also you do have a scar, I looks like Harry's but it's on your wrist.

Most muggles and wizards forget your twins beacuse you look nothing alike.

With Harry I think he trusts adults a little too quick, with the treatment the Dursly's caused I think you'd have major trust issues. You only really trust Harry.

Harry is almost extremely over protective of you and sometimes thinks he's the older brother because he happens to be taller and five minutes older. “you know I'm five minutes older than you, right?”

“why does that bloody matter?”

Harry would do anything to keep you safe from Dudley and the other Dursley, I think Petunia would be harsher on you because you remind her so much of Lily and Dudley just think it's a game to terrioz you.

“keep your hands off her!” Harry shouted and pushed your cousin off you aching body.

People Don't know how relieved you were to get your Hogwarts letter.

Year one:

Like I said before you don't trust people as easy as Harry does, so when Hagrid came to rescue you two you were very reluctant and let Harry do most of the talking.

I'd say the Dursly's treatment causes you to be jumpy and very much aware of your surroundings, meaning you were hiding behind Harry when Hagrid came by.

But you learned to trust him during the trip to Digon Ally, he got Harry an owl and you a Ferrett named Seeley.

You also discovered your wand was related to The 'murder' Sirius Black's wand.

The first person you'd actually meet first is Fred and George, Hagrid had taken you to a candy shop in Digon ally and you both were after the last box of all flavor beans.

“you go ahead” he smiled when he saw you flinch back. “no, you” you respond.

Fred shook his head with a smile and handed you the colorful box. “no, you shouldn't take things from a pretty lady” that made you blush and take the box nervously.

And saved by the bell wizard, Harry called your name. “I got it go... Bye”

He didn't even get your name. Fred watched you run away with hearts in his eyes. George looked at him confused when he saw no candy in his hands.

“Georgie, I think I'm in love” he smiled like an idiot.

George, not knowing how to respond smiled.

When you got to Hogwarts you met Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy.

You had found Neville's Toad Trevor and was the one to return him. I think Neville would be star struck with you, your kindness to him and how pretty you were, he definitely had a crush on you immediately.

With Draco he just had infatuation, with Fred and Neville it was actual attraction(Neville more at the time) but with the Blonde Slytherin he saw you as someone he could get back at his parents with. The daughter of Lilly and James, Lucicus hated them and his eyes it would be a perfect opportunity to rebell a little.

You saw right threw him, you may not trust people immediately, but you do like to get to know them before you pass judgment. Draco lost your judgment as soon as he disrespected Ron and the rest of the Weasleys.

“listen you little Ferrett, leave Ron and his family alone”

I don't think the twins would take you being teased lightly, Fred didn't really care what Draco thought about him but him saying something about you or George is usually the last straw.

Anyway, the sorting hat didn't know what house to put you in. He was stuck between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. “your a lot smarter than people give you credit for...your also brave, maybe even braver than your brother”

The hat did consider your feelings, he didn't just put you in Gryffindor because you were afraid to be separated from Harry, he did because he wanted to prove how brave and strong you were.

Gryffindor was ecstatic to have both Potters, especially Fred and George. They both cheered with the rest of their house mates and gave you the empty spot next to them.

With that I think you'd have your own trio, you are very close to Hermione and Ron both, but your defently best friends with the twins.

Your also close with Neville, people might think your a body guard and would even teas him for it, but you actually love Neville company and think he's tougher than he relizes.

Some people might not realize you got on the Quidditch team beofer Harry, you became a Chaser.

During your first game the twins wouldn't leave your side, Fred was afraid you'd get hurt. I think the whole team was considering you were a first year.

Harry's broom was the only one that was supposed to get jinxed but you got in the way. You got swang around like crazy while the twins and Oliver tried to help you. It drove Harry crazy he couldn't help you, but he had his own jinxed broom to deal with too.

Ron and Hermione of course thought it was Snape, but it wasn't. He was concentrated on helping you... Even more than Harry.

You remind him of Lily... like a lot, so I think it would make him less biter towrds you. Yeah it'll hurt him to see you at first, but I think he wouldn't be harsh on you like he is Harry.

During the holiday we know Harry saw your parents in the mirror of erase, but as much as you loved your parents I don't think that's what you saw. You can't change the past, so you just wanted some kind of family. So when you looked in the mirror you saw the Weasleys.

You and the twins had been extremely close, especially Fred. During the holidays Molly sent you a sweater with your initial and Fred got you a paracord bracelet with a heart charm. He and george had matching ones(minus the heart) so at the time it was friendship bracelets.

When you went to see the mirror by your self Professor McGonagall cought you, she really liked you and thought you were a bright student. You don't get to show it much because Hermione always beats you too it.

Speaking of professors and Hogwarts staff, I think Hagrid would help you discover your love for animals and magical creatures. Which ment you were pissed when Draco ragged about Hagrid's baby dragon.

Your love for magical creatures also helps you and the golden trio get passed Fluffy the three headed dog.

You and Hagrid bonded over talking about animals and you guys grew closer because of that.

It still bewilders Ron how you saw innocents in the dog and though he was cute.

You didn't want to go back to the Dursly's, but with the events that transpired this year you were afraid to stay at Hogwarts too, but you couldn't help but love the place, as dangerous as it was it was also safe and full of wonderful people.

Year two:

So for starters I think Doby would annoy the hell out of Harry's sister and I think she would be pissed off he was at the Dursly's warring them instead of Ginny or Hermione or even Colin.

So when you got back from Hogwarts you and Harry did have to share Dudley's second bedroom, it was cramped and always hot, but it was better than living under the staircase.

So, remember when the Dursly's tried to stop Harry from going to the Burow with the Weasley's? Well Harry did get in their little blue Angler, but when he did Vernon grabed you causing Fred to jump through the window and get you.

Molly would be so happy to see you again and even kinda embarrassed Fred. “y/n darling, I'm so glad your hear... Fred hear wouldn't shut up about you all summer”

“mom!” Fred look embarrassed while George was trying to cover his laughter for his brother's sake.

The burow is big but it's also cramped at times, so you and the twins share a room, your best friends and your comfortable with each other. Your just kids right now and there's no dirty thoughts to it just three best friends having a sleep over.

Thoses night Fred found out about your nightmares, George is a heavy but one night you woke up Fred when you were tossing and whimper beacuse of them. You only remember your parents death in your dreams and currently your adventures from last year.

Fred comferted you through out the night. He didn't make you talk about it, just held you. George teased you guys when he woke up the next morning and saw you guy cuddling. You guys let it slide since he didn't know the situation.

But, During your stay I think you'd grow closer to George, your both the quieter of the twins and are usually the followers. You would tell him you hated all the attention being Harry's sister brings.

Fred would get jealous, really jealous but he loves you both too much to bring it up. George knows how much Fred cares about you and your relationship with George is strictly Platonic.

George knows Fred like the back of his hand and he told him that. “you know we're just friends, right? I'd never hurt you like that”

Speaking of friends, since it's ginny's first year you and the twins are all pretty protective, which ment you were about to kick Draco's teath out when he was hassling her at the book shop in Digon ally.

“touch her and it'll be the last thing you ever do”

You also despise Lockheart, You and the twins spend most of the year messing with him. Especially when it comes to quizes about himself.

“my favorite smell isn't the ass of a hairless dog!” Lockheart yelled after reading our answers.

You broke your arm during the Quidditch match where Draco and Harry we're going add it. The people and the teams were too busy watching your brother to realize you got knocked off your broom.

Fred cought you before you could hit the ground and he took you to madam Pomfrey with George and Hagrid's help.

That day you realized since you weren't the chosin one like Harry you weren't that inresting. But that didn't matter to your closest people. To Fred you were the greatest thing to ever enter hogwarts.

He stayed with you the entire time and helped you with assignments till you got better.

You weren't part of this year's adventure. You were too worried about taking care of Ginny and Hermione.

Years 3:

So after the whole blowing up aunt marge incident you went to the Burow(in this universe you go straight there).

You told the twins about aunt Marge and they couldn't stop laughing. You now call it "the incident" and it kinda became inside joke, Ginny getts annoyed with not knowing what it means.

“you keep saying 'the incident'! What doses that mean?”

You did find about Sirius black and that he was Harry's godfather. You would think he'd be yours too but really it was never confirmed since Lilly wanted Remus to be the godfather.

Remus told you about the once playful argument that James and Lily had about that. I think you'd grow really close to Remus.

He's the first adult you trusted immediately. You tell him everything and he becomes the first ever real father figure you've ever had.

Aurther is kinda of a father figure but you don't want to see him that way since your in love with his son.

Anyway, you find out about Remus being a werewolf just beacuse you were wondering around on a full moon, you weren't scared like a normal person should be which suprised him. You promised to never say anything.

It got annoying when Hermione kept asking werewolf questions when she started to have her suspicions.

You were relieved when you found out Sirius didn't actually kill your parents. You found out Sirius was really fun to be around. While Remus was a shoulder to cry on or sortof a body guard, Sirius was c comedic relief and learned how to make you and Harry laugh.

Year 4:

Your fourth year is when Fred and you really started to act on your feelings. When you went to the Quidditch world cup, Fred kissed you after your favorite team won.

Since death eaters showed up it was short lived and you guys didn't really speak of it till later.

You didn't try to get your name in the goblet of fire like your two best friends, nor was your name put in there.

It was bizarre... You wanted to do it just to prove you were just as brave and important as Harry. Fred helped you relize how important and loved you were during the last two summers, but since your name didn't get put in there like Harry's you felt pushed to the side lines again.

Fred was a little bit upset at your mindset. He didn't want you thinking you were useless but he also didn't want you in danger.

“why would you want to! It's dangerous, I don't know what I'd do If you got hurt!”

Then it turned into an argument. “I want to do It because I'm tired of being in his shadow I want to prove I'm just as strong! And why dose it matter if I was in the tournament or not?”

“beacuse I love you! The Wizarding world might not have chosen you but I do... And I know we're just kids but I do know that I love you”

Your heart melt and if felt like all your walls came crashing down. You knew you were important to him, but it finally clicked that you were is first choice from the beginning. No Harry, no chosin crap, he just wanted you.

You had your first real kiss in mouths. A rough but passionate kiss. He poured so mush love and emotion in it, he wanted to prove he wanted you and only you.

Then you became a couple, a few side problems kinda showed up. Hermione and Krum, then you and Neville... He wanted to asks you out so bad but then he finally had the confidence to ask you out he found you and Fred kissing.

You knew when something was bothering Neville, he became stand-offish and wouldn't really talk to you. When he confronted you all his emotions came out. He told you everything and even end his rant that he rather have you as a friend than not having you at all.

“but then I realized our friendship means more to me than anything, I'm happy for you and Fred but I don't want to lose my best friend”

“You won't...”

The Yule Ball was so much fun, you of course went with Fred and everything was perfect.

Having Cedric die was hard, you wernt close to him but having him die made you appreciate you brother again. You two became distant since you felt put on the side lines, but when you thought about Harry dying you couldn't help but cry.

“you and me against the universe” Harry said after you talked about it to him. “I'll always protect you and I'm sorry if you felt like I pushed you away”

Harry really did feel bad, but he felt even worse when he found out about you and Fred. He's been so busy he didn't even know you have a boyfriend for like three months.

He was happy for you both, he trust you'd be treated right and didn't feel like he had to put up an over protective brother facade.

Year 5:

So Remus is defently over protective and put the fear of murlin in Fred, but he knew Fred was a good guy.

You and Fred also worked hard to get Tonks and Remus together. You knew how much he loved her but he wouldn't act upon it.

Also with Voldemort back you were eager to join the order of the Phoenix, even if you weren’t old enough. And you better believe Fred would be right behind you.

“I'm in” you said.

“NO!” Remus and Sirius both said at the same time.

Okay so it's your fith year and Fred's last year, it's kinda of upsetting but it just encourages you guys to make the most of the year.

You love helping the boys sell their products and even help come up with some new ideas.

Rather the product are safe or not your usually the one to sell the product to fellow classmates, especially the females. George says to can sell a drowning man water.

The year was great... Till the pink monster showed up and started changing everything.

She got under Fred's skin like crazy and Umbridge knew it, he didn't really care what she did to him, took away one of his prank toys he doesn't care he'll just make a new one but what he didn't lightly is when you had to endore one of her detentions.

You didn't want the boys knowing or worry Fred and Harry. He accidentally found out when he grabed your soar hand the wrong way.

“I'm gonna end her!”

You had to grabe him and convince him if he did anything he'd get kicked out of school... Which he didn't care.

You knew about them dropping out and you even help plan their excape.

After they left Fred wrote to you almost every day, filling you in about the shop and telling you about the success.

You couldn't be more proud of them and even planed on working there that summer but the end of there made you forget about it.

Sirius had died protecting you, Bellatrix was about to use the same spell on you that she used on Mr. And mrs. Longbottom. Neville tried to protect you but Sirius bet him to it the only cost was his life.

During the summer you mostly stayed with the twins and worked at the shop, things got better and Fred worked hard to cheer you up.

He loves spending most of his time with you and doesn't really care if people see.

“your not supposed to get handsy with the staff” you joked.

“I won't tell if you want”

Year 6:

Not Much happened... That concerned you at least. You spent most of your year hanging out with Neville and Luna.

Harry and the other two were to busy worrying about Draco and you just didn't have the energy to care.

You quite the Quidditch team after an acadent last year so you usually helped Luna or who ever narrat the game.

You did worry about Draco though, he looked so alone and no one really cared, all Harry cared about was proving he was doing something wrong.

He grew so much respect for you when you found him crying, you didn't judge him like he expected... Just let him cry.

You filled Fred and George in about the closet stuff and how the school is going down hill.

After the school year you went home with the twins after Dumbledore's funeral, as awful as it might sound you weren't too affected by his death. You felt like Dumbledore never really cared about you or your brother.

Year 7:

So you spent most of the Summer paining and decorating for Billy's wedding, it was a good distraction.

During the battle of the seven Harry's George protected you because the death eaters would expect you to be with Fred, George got his ear blown off because he was protecting you.

After the wedding got ambushed you ended up going with the golden trio, Fred tried to go after you but Charlie stoped him I'm fear for his brother.

You spent most of the time listing to the radio with Ron, making sure George or Fred's name isn't mentioned.

During the battle of Hogwarts the twins didn't leave your side.

“you okay freddie? Y/n?” George asked.

“I'm scared” you admitted. Fred pulled you to his side and held you while George held your free hand. “I won't let anything hurt you”

When things got really heated during the battle you got separated from the two, you and George ended up meeting up in what used to be the charms room.

You started to panic when you didn't see Fred. “Wait, where's fred”

George couldn't stop you and ran in search for him, before you could even register what was happening Fred shielded you from a killing curse.

Even if your brother won the battle you lost the love of your life, you didn't really want to see anyone except George and even that hurt... Looking at his face and seeing the same eyes and freckles.

George promised if anything happens to Fred he'd make sure you'd be alright.

Super mega happy ending:

So if you chose this ending Fred didn't die, you guys got betten up but that's all.

A year later you guys got married and you worked as the care of magical creatures professor at the school, during the summer you worked with your husband and brother-in-law.

You had twins, a boy and a girl. Fred cried when he found out you'd he having twins.

George and Angelina were of course the god parents.

You are very protective of your kids, always making sure they're okay and on the anniversary of your parents death your twins sleep with you.

Your daughter is just like Fred, a total minnis in the best way possible, your son is the quieter one... Much like you and George.

Your twins joined the Quidditch team and got sorted into Gryffindor like every other Potter and Weasley.

You couldn't be more happy or proud of your family.

[wordsmithic]

Hi, sorry if this comes out as a ramble, but your Troy ask made me rewatch the movie (for the umpteenth time, lol), and it brought a lot of old feelings back, both good and bad. The good is how much I adored the Iliad as a child and that's something that still thrives today—since I was a kid, I loved Greek mythology in general, partly because I'm Palestinian/a fellow Eastern Mediterranean, so there is a lot of overlap in our histories, cultures, customs and myths, but the Iliad has always been a favorite. Hektor is my favorite character (and I love him and Andromache), but I also have an immense soft spot for Briseis... and now to get to the bad, rewatching Troy reminded me how a lot of people erase her and her role—and her romance—to Achilles in modern retellings. Now, I'm not going to argue which Achilles ship is the best (especially because that man is a hoe, if we're being honest), I don't care. My problem is the modern erasure of Briseis and the other women in Achilles's life that are romantically entangled with him being reduced to, "He's gay, actually." It reads biphobic if you believe him queer (Patroclus too, who had many named women concubines/slaves), first off, misogynist second. He has a son with his foster "sister," Deidamia, and in some versions even married. In the Iliad especially, Patroclus tells Briseis Achilles will marry her and Achilles himself refers to her as his wife/bride, stopping a whole war when she's taken, and she's even allowed to aid in Patroclus's funeral rights. In some versions, Achilles falls for Polyxena, and tries to make peace with Troy so he can marry her. In the afterlife, Achilles chooses Helen as his wife for some reason. Just... all these women, with complex situations and feelings, are all reduced or erased in modern tellings (and usually for a man/Patroclus), and it makes me want to scream. People use the excuse of, "We don't like the romantic situation they're in," but then claim to "better" it by... erasing or reducing these women and their complex roles and feelings from the story overall? Brieseis, for example, mutually loved Achilles and saw him as a husband... he also killed her first husband and brothers, and you can argue part of her love is out of the need for survival. Yet, she greatly mourned him when he was killed, too. And if exploring this complexity is still not your yum, what about Polyxena? Wouldn't she fit the girlboss archetype of using Achilles' affections to gain his trust, before stabbing him in the back (literally)? Or Deidamia, who's young and left at home, bereft of her husband and son? Heck, try and fill in the gaps how Achilles x Hellen happened, if you must. All these women have an important role in the story, and to Achilles, that could be explored—but people don't because they dismiss what's already there or don't know anything about The Iliad outside modern retellings (mainly The Song of Achilles). So, we get people claiming things that are untrue ("Achilles and Patroclus are exclusively gay!"... in some myths, they're actually relatives/distant cousins, fun fact 😭), and acting like they fixed something by "adding" onto "flat female characters" in a way that reads inauthentic and ignorant to the source material. I get wanting to prop up one's chosen ship, it's just the hypocrisy of promising to be more progressive in one area, but diminishing the progressiveness of another, that kills me. Anyway! Sorry for the rant, I just have a lot of feelings I wanted to share because of the movie and I know you've talked about all this before—it's just something hard to discuss on the internet without people coming down your throat 🥲. Anyhow, justice for Briseis, is my rallying cry, I love her so much, queen made a whole war stop for her and managed to escape from Agamemnon unscathed. Queen who launched a thousand ships to my heart 🫶🏻.

I'm glad you re-watched it! It's a beloved of many Greeks since the movie is quite epic and makes you understand some of the original's glory. Hector, Andromache and Briseis are some of my fave characters in the movie, and it made me also look out for those characters when they appear in the text.

Btw, I would love to know a Palestinian's pov on our shared traditions and myths, how do you guys learn the Greek myths, what parts of them have had perhaps an affect on your heritage and since when, etc! 😍

Briseis' situation is complicated one because many people won't catch the nuance of her living in a patriarchal society as a war captive and thus developing a strange co-dependence to her captors. In addition, the Homeric Epics are a work changed by time in the Greek society, as people added and altered stuff, so many storylines have been affected by other layers of patriarchal societies. So of course the notion of "slave girl mourning her captor's friend" would seem natural, because they probably don't consider a slave woman's POV. Or perhaps she was in the mourning because she had to be there as a woman "belonging" to the Greeks, and the text does not mention it explicitly because it a given for the era. (I don't recall the whole relevant text sorry)

I am not sure if the average author - judging by what is published in the Anglophone market - can handle the complexity of Briseis and other women in the Trojan war. For Briseis one could go for a romance there but they'd have to depict all of her psychosynthesis properly, so it doesn't come off as "Achilles killed my family but he is hot so I love him". To be fair, it is a challenging task but I am still sad that I haven't heard retellings that do this well. Such a retelling done well would be chef's kiss!

As you said, unfortunately, the writers for now focus on the couple Achilles x Patroclus which, ok, let's accept it since it's a ship and there is some background to it (although those guys are most likely 1) cousins 2) very close to each other like brethren in a way westerners misinterpret). I've enjoyed Song of Achilles and I am surely not against such works, but you are right that the female heroines are reduced to flat characters. A fandom full of women manages to be misogynistic - again. We shouldn't be surprised because misogynistic influences are very strong in our societies still, although many don't see it 😕

[pininghermit]

Alucard Dating Trevor's Cousin

Genre: Fluff

Summary: A Belmont falling in love with a non human?

AN: enjoy :)

Afterlife audiences

Lisa: Aww its giving enemies to lovers 🙏🏻

Dracula: in a state of constant homeostasis I would take Lisa's word on that.

Living world audiences-

Trevor: She uses a whip. And not for right reasons. (Face palms)

Sypha elbowing Trevor in the ribs: They're a good match glares at her husband

A Belmont chasing vampires? Old news in both Transylvania and the afterlife. It was a destiny the Belmont clan had shouldered for centuries, a duty to shield Transylvania from the encroaching darkness.

But that duty, Trevor grumbled to himself, never included courting a dhampir from the House of Dracula.

Specifically, the only surviving member who just happened to be the prophesied savior with hair like spun gold.

Trevor watched, aghast, as you, the oddball of the Belmont clan, leaned in towards Alucard, the aforementioned dhampir, with a line so cheesy it could curdle milk.

"[Name], let's get you back to the forge," a very flustered Trevor pushed you back into the your smithy before you could spew any more black mail material.

"Why is he taken?" you whispered loudly in his ear, just as Alucard's head snapped in your direction, a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

Trevor wanted to crawl under his workbench. "Repair my dagger before I stab you with a dull one," he muttered, shoving you towards the forge and uselessly trying to manhandle the heavy wooden door shut. "And for the love of garlic, keep it professional!"

You, of course, just grinned that impish grin that both infuriated and strangely charmed him. "Professional? Where's the fun in that, fellow Belmont?" With a wink, you disappeared into the depths of the forge, leaving Trevor to face a potentially bemused Alucard alone.

Alucard's mouth barely formed a sound before Trevor glared back at him.

"Not a word!"

"Not a word, Alucard." The ale lover declared. Leaving the bemused dhampir chuckling by himself.

Alucard's mouth quirked into a barely-there smile as he looked up from his tea. "A smith with so much time to spare must not be that good of a smith," he remarked, his voice dry but his amusement evident. His gaze flicked to the fistful of marbles you held, a question hanging in the air.

"From where?" he asked, already knowing the answer was irrelevant. These were just the latest trinkets you'd woven into his life – a slingshot you'd found, a peculiar feather, a chipped clay figurine. He kept every one, tucked away in a hidden drawer that no one else ever touched.

Satisfied with the chosen marble, you met his eyes with a playful challenge. "Whatever shall blacksmiths ruined by the virtue of love do?" you inquired, your voice dripping with mock despair.

He snorted, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest. "Are you reading those sappy romance novels again?" It was a struggle, but Alucard managed to maintain a semblance of seriousness despite the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Undeterred by his amusement, you revealed another book from your ever-present satchel. "Just browsing, Alucard," you said with a wink. "Expanding my horizons, you see. One can't rely solely on the thrill of forge and gruff warriors."

"Somehow," he began, his voice a low murmur, "it always comes as a wonder how you find those… treasures in the Belmont library."

Either you have taken over the task of expanding the library or fierce Belmont clan had always had a predisposition for sappy romance novels.

Alucard's first love had been a cold, unforgiving winter. Betrayal, sharp as a blizzard wind, had shattered his heart into a million pieces. He had retreated into himself, a fortress of ice and solitude.

His second love was a fleeting spring, a succubus who reveled in the sting of manipulation. Her touch was sweet fire, but the flame died as quickly as the coins exchanged in stolen nights.

Yet, his third love was Summer. You were his summer. Heat of forge, clang of metals, unabashed laughter and corny love confessions. Summer heat that melted his frozen heart and evaporated the maddening poison of spring.

Your love, a gentle force like a bird's flight, had chased away the lingering poison of his foolish choices.

You were his third love, the one who stayed. And unlike the fleeting seasons of his past.

[irishmammonagenda]

Ritualistic-Obey Me x Reader

[picture creds] [dividers by @/riottsrph] Summary: You and your friends get a little too wrapped up in the spooky festivities of Halloween. Satan can't help but watch. ;) Word Count: 3.2k Content Warnings: MC is human and this is a different au. probably fem!MC idk i cant write men women are my default. also MC is stupid, like really fucking stupid icl. blood, rituals, implied animal sacrifice, implied gore and violence.

"This was a stupid idea." You think to yourself as you trudge through the dense forest behind your two best friends, avoiding branches and pausing every time you get caught on one.

Noticing your tension, Derek hums, carrying a rucksack on his back and offering you a sip of cider from the can he was holding. No doubt given to him by his Uncle Sam. "Want some? You seem thirsty."

Parched you accept, "Thanks, Derek."

He nods as his cousin Eric turns around from in front of you both, he grins at you, still carefully carrying that cardboard box that they refuse to tell you the contents of. "It's not much further, [Name], don't worry."

Most young adults would be watching horror movies with their friends, or going to a costume party on Halloween Night. But not you three.

You; [Name] [Last Name], Derek Wisconsin, and Eric Vancouver, had something more disturbing planned.

You were going to summon Satan.

Having freshly turned 19, and with Derek preparing to move back to Illinois and, Eric returning to Canada for college; this was your last hurra before being separated.

You shiver, half from the nerves and half from the cold. You should've worn something other than sweatpants and a tank top.

"C'mon [Name], don't be a scaredy cat. We're almost there." Derek teases, shoving you lightly, before throwing his empty can of cider on the forest floor. You glare at him. Sure, you were more naïve than most, but he didn't need to be rude about it!

Eric looks back once more, and shares a look with his cousin before the three of you continue to walk. Getting ever closer to the clearing the blond Canadian had been raving about.

Getting closer to the place you'd chosen for the ritual.

You gulp as you reach the clearing, taking a moment to collect yourself and avoid looking into the treelines, especially as the sky rapidly darkens. You don't want to see something you shouldn't, after all.

Derek grabs the box from his cousin's hands and sets it down gently on the ground beside the rucksack he’d thrown uncaringly in the leaves before adjusting his baseball cap. The redhead breathes in deeply, watching as his friend grabs a handful of straws of various lengths.

Eric scrunches his nose and nudges towards you. "We gotta see who's doin' it. Pick one." The half-canadian nudges to his closed fist, you nervously do so, pulling out a short, stubby straw.

Eric picks out a short straw, still longer than yours. Derek picks out the longest one, and subsequently starts grinning like a maniac. "Fuck yeah!" He whistles. "Oh Jeez....guess you're doing it, [Name]."

"Guess I am..." You pout, before blinking dumbly for a minute. "Wait, what am I doing'?"

Derek and Eric grin to each other with identical smiles before turning to face you. "The main part of the ritual." They say, before the Canadian gestures to the box.

The ginger grins wider, taking off his chicago cubs baseball cap and setting it down, revealling orange toned hair underneath. "But not yet! We gotta set up the summoning circle first!"

You bite your lip. "Are you guys sure this is a good idea?” You ask, eyeing Eric as he starts to copy out a summoning circle from the frayed, ancient looking spellbook.

Derek nods ambitiously. “Hell yeah. What could go wrong? Worst case scenario nothin’ happens and it’s all a hoax. Best case scenario, we summon Satan, make pacts with him and get rich!”

Eric sticks his tongue out in concentration. “Mhm… and don’t worry about havin’ to sell your soul. That’s where the box comes in handy.”

You shiver. Wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm as you and Derek watch as the blond finishes the summoning circle and places black candles down at integral points of the inner star.

The Canadian claps the chalk off of his hands, as Derek takes out the deck chair from the large rucksack and unfolds it, setting it in the middle of the circle. you and begin lighting the candles,he grabs an expensive looking ceremonial dagger from his backpack. When he notices you staring he smirks. “Got it from Ebay for 20 dollars. Now lets get started!”

Derek grins before the three of you stand over the book he’d just placed in the very middle of the summoning circle, placed on the foldable garden chair serving as an altar.

Your trio chant in Latin, reading out the words on the page of the book. The light breeze stops dead.

“Ready, [Name]?” Eric smiles, holding the dagger up as you nod offering your hand.

“Make it quick.” You look away. Face scrunched up in pain as the boy draws blood, you hiss in agony as he moves onto Derek and then himself.

The three of you let your blood drip onto the ground in the middle of the summoning circle as you invoke the Avatar of Wrath once more.

All the while being unaware of the emerald green eyes watching you from the shadows of the treeline.

After a few repetitions, Derek turns to you, gestering to the dagger. “You picked the shortest straw. You’re up, MC.”

“What do I do with it?” You tilt your head as you shakily grab the dagger. Growing more and more uncomfortable with the uncanny smiles your friends are sporting.

They hand you the cardboard box. “Open it.” Eric whispers.

You do.

Inside you find a small black kitten barely the size of your hand sleeping peacefully. A small pink ribbon as her makeshift collar. Unable to stop yourself, you reach out to shakily pet her. Derek grabs her. She meows as she’s woken up. The redhead hands you the kitten in your free arm.

“Pet store said her name was Inky.” Eric hums as she cuddles into your tanktop, looking for warmth.

You don’t miss the sinister glint in their eyes, yet you do miss the figure in the darkness growing larger, more demonic as he senses what’s about to happen to the kitten before you do.

You feel a sinking feeling in your gut even before Derek orders you in a dark tone. “Say the words in the book. Slit its throat.”

You gulp shakily, as you begin to chant, the wound on your hand aching and beginning to glow green and you swear you can hear a demonic growling sound from the treeline.

You finish chanting, tears welling up in your eyes as you slowly lift the dagger up, preparing to do the unthinkable.

The sky darkens, thunder sounds, a sinister fog begins to form around the ritual circle, reflecting in the pure evil of Derek and Eric’s shared expression.

Satan, who had been watching in the shadows as soon as the ritual began, growls in pure rage. A mere second away from stepping into the circle and gutting the three of you.

You blink away your tears, about the drag the dagger down into the kittens throat, before you meet her tiny amber eyes and she lets out the most pitiful meow. No doubt wanting food.

You break. Throwing the weapon on the ground and breaking off in a sprint. Rushing into the dense woods still cradling the poor kitten as your former friends make chase close behind you.

You wince as branches catch on your skin and leaving you with scratch marks all over. You don’t stop running though, especially after you hear the dagger being thrown at a tree right next to you.

Satan pauses. Shocked out of his growling as he stalks you from the shadows. A small, crooked smile spreads on his face as he watches you make your escape, defenseless kitten in hand.

You manage to get out of view and reach of Derek and Eric as you duck behind a log to catch your breath. Hearing the Canadian shout to his cousin from Illinois to ‘just leave it’ and ‘continue the ritual without the stupid cat’

Derek shouts exploitatives before agreeing and yelling into the woods. “You fucking bitch!- When I find you, [Name]-You’re fucking dead!-”

You hold your breath as their voices grow quieter and quieter. Petting Inky to steel your nerves you peek out and see no one.

Deciding to make your escape you slowly get out, walking dumbly like a baby deer as you slowly trudge further away from where you came.

Satan had been doing nothing in particular before having felt his name being provoked. He sighed, never getting a lot of downtime during Halloween thanks to idiots in the Human Realm summoning him day in and day out.

Allowing himself to be teleported to the area of the ritual. He stalked in the shadows of the treeline, noticing three young adults in the middle of the clearing chanting.

He watched. Prowling around the shadows, rage radiating from him as he hears the meowing of a cat and sees the third of the trio raise a dagger. Yet still, he watches.

His eyes grow green. Already in his demon form, his claws protract. Ready to maul those motherfuckers.

Only to stop when you throw the dagger and make a run for it. Rage simmering down to slight surprise, claws retracting.

You were a smart one, your friends, however, were not. He'd have to find you later, but for now; he stayed in the shadows, waiting, watching as the two boys continue the ritual without the cat they had planned to slaughter.

The ginger, Derek, begins once more, chanting in Latin as he reads from the book, Eric joins in, before a lightbulb goes off into his head.

The Canadian opens his phone and selects a photo of you, placing it on the ground in the centre of the ritual circle.

"A-ave Satanas! This is our sacrifice to you, [Name] [Last Name]!" Eric shouts into the forest, no doubt wanting you to hear in an attempt to punish you for ruining the ritual.

Satan raises an eyebrow. So that was your name? Interesting.

Still in demon form; he steps out of the shadows, revealling himself to the two boys.

He smirks at their shocked gasps, watching in amusement as they scramble to the book, trying to figure out what to do next.

"Where's the cat?" Is all Satan asks.

"T-that bitch-" Derek points to the photo of you on the ground. "She fuckin' ran off with it. Sorry Lord S-Satan....we were tryna sacrifice it for you.-"

Eric nods desperately in agreement.

Satan smirks, "Well then...I suppose I should reward my loyal followers." He says charmingly as his eyes glow a feral green and his claws protract once more.

He'd hang them by their entrails.

No one fucks with cats. Especially not on his watch.

You whimper in the dark woods, shakily bringing your phone out with one hand to use as a flashlight. It was colder now. Inky clung to you for warmth as you did the same to her and held the kitten tighter with one arm.

Having ran blindly from the clearing in random directions, it was safe to say you were lost.

"It's okay buddy…." You whisper to the kitten, whimpering when you hear the tortured screaming of your two friends.

The ritual must've worked.

Like a prey animal, you hunker down behind some bushes just in case. Turning off your phone light, you cradled Inky in your arms and clench your eyes shut in fear, trying not to listen to the screeching and pleading of your former friends.

Tears roll down your cheeks, although you couldn't tell if it was from grieving, anger or fear. Most likely the latter two.

You wait and wait, staying completely still in the dirt, uncaring of the staining in your clothes that would result of it. Leaves rustled softly with your breathing, as you tried to focus on the rise and fall of your chest instead of the nightmarish sounds from God knows how far away.

It keeps going, until it stops, leaving behind it a thick, deathly silence. You hold back a whimper, still much too scared to move, frozen in fear.

Your hair stands on end as a crunching of autumn leaves sounds. Footsteps approach you calmly.

You hold you breath, begging and praying to whatever ancient power out there that whatever that thing was that'd killed your friends wouldn't murder you too. That it would somehow miss your hiding spot.

It was truly a shame for you that the only ancient power in your vicinity was Satan himself.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. :)

To which he did. The footsteps get closer, before stopping at the bush you were hiding behind. You bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

You hear a chuckle sound from the darkness, as you will yourself to open your eyes you see a man, as if by magic, he's in front of you.

You hadn't heard him move from the time it took him to approach you from behind.

Strange.

"You don't need to be scared." The handsome man smiles charmingly. He's not much older than you by the looks of it. "[Name], right?"

You nod dumbly, holding Inky as your emotional support. How did this man know your name? Was he stalking you?

He nods to the kitten in your arms, "Cute cat. Mind if I pet her?"

"Sure….Y-yeah that's fine…." You stiffen as his hand reaches towards you, but relax slightly as the man seems gentle with cats. Everyone knows men who are good with cats can be trusted, right? Inky seems to like him.

"Hmm…..you okay?" The blond man asks kindly. His emerald eyes glow an otherworldly green.

"….I'm lost…." You admit, rather tired from the whole idea.

"I see. Well I could always help you get out. I know these woods quite well…."

"Really? You don't sound like you're from here….." You say softly, finding your voice. Maybe you were too naïve and trusting, but nevertheless, you grab his outstretched hand and laugh a little as he shakes it.

You grin, having calmed your nerves slightly. Unknowing that you've just made a deal with the devil.

He helps you up and you begin to walk through the trees, still holding onto Inky. The man coos at her every now and again and the cat preens under his soft gaze.

You walk in a relatively comfortable silence, with the blond asking you questions here and there, and you answering and asking them back.

Realistically you should still be shaking and crying and traumatised. You'd just heard your two former best friends be murdered. Yet, some dark twisted part inside of you whispers that they were doomed the moment they drew that circle and took out that cat.

It scared you that you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"So what about you…? Do you have any siblings?" You ask quietly, as you both use your phones as flashlights through the woods. You don't feel as much like a headless chicken anymore.

"Yep." He smiles. "Six brothers. I'm the fourth oldest."

"Holy shit."

"Nothing holy about it, in my opinion." He laughs, it's contagious. You can't help but let out a chuckle.

"You're quite interesting, [Name]. Smart too. " The familiar stranger hums. "I like that."

You grin, laughing as humility coats your voice. " Oh really....I don't think I'm that smart....."

The handsome man's eye's glow with something for a second as his eyes fix on the kitten safe in your arms. "You should give yourself more credit, [Name], you've made better decisions than you would even believe tonight."

"....Thanks?" You tilt your head slightly. The Devil himself just hums softly in response as the two of you fall back into the rhythm of a comfortable silence, with you leading the way to your home as you got to the main road once more. It doesn't take long before the three of you reach it.

As you reach your home, the blond sees you and your newly acquired kitten to your door. You give him a small smile. "Well this is me...."

He nods, before grabbing your free hand, and speaking a phrase in Latin you almost recognise as he meets your gaze with a glowing green one of his own. He kisses your hand and grins as ink like emeralds form on your skin like a tattoo, swirling and dancing until they find purchase around your wrist in a symbol not unlike the ones in the summoning circle.

Your breath hitches. "Y-you're..."

The demon grins. "I'm Satan, yes." He replies, admiring the pact mark now on your hand. "And you might be one of my favourite devotees."

"....You're not gonna kill me...?" You ask in a small voice, clutching Inky as you open the door you had stupidly forgotten to lock before you went out.

The Avatar of Wrath only laughs in response, a soft look overriding his facial expression. "If I wanted to kill you I would've done so in the woods. Besides. You weren't stupid....like the other imbeciles who try to summon me." He reaches over to pet Inky once more, something he's done a lot within the short space of time you've gotten to know him.

"Huh?" You voice out your confusion, and he grins up at you. For the supposed Avatar of Wrath, he sure is charming. It was easy to trust him.

"Well...most people- actually every group or person who tries to summon me around Halloween time...sometimes even witches but especially inexperienced humans like you and your....friends...always make the fatal mistake of sacrificing cats during the ritual...." His eyes narrow as he thinks about it. A murderous expression creeps onto his face and a deathly aura surrounds him as you realise why he's named the Avatar of Wrath.

Satan takes a deep breath and continues. "But you didn't....I can appreciate and trust someone like you."

You nod, wondering what parenting mistakes your parents made that could've made you attracted to a literal Lord of Hell as you feel your cheeks heat up. "Do you wanna come inside for a bit?"

The corners of his lips twitch, "I'd love to...but Halloween is a busy time for me....summonings and all.....could I come back tomorrow?"

You nod. "Bring some treats for Inky?" You ask light-heartedly.

"Oh of course." He smiles, waving goodbye as you trek inside your home, placing the kitten down gently on the entrance mat of your hall.

"Well....bye for now, Satan..." You nod, at the now not so enigmatic stranger, he gives you another kiss on the back of your hand.

"Goodnight, [Name]." He says before slowly closing the door for you.

He'd come visit you again, after all, he had accepted your ritual and given you his pact mark. As the blond demon thinks to himself whilst traversing to yet another ritual preformed by stupid young adults abusing cats who were about to get mauled, he comes to the realisation that Lucifer said no to cats in the house. but he never said anything about a human and that said human's cat. ;)

🎃🦇samhain shona daoibh 🎃🦇

if you cant tell ive watched a lot of horror movies recently and made the ritual very not very realistic-ified for the sake of dramatic devices gng. (unrelated but im too scared to watch the exorcist)😔✊

real ones realised i reused derek wisconsin and eric vancouver from my summertime shennanigans fic. i am aware the names are horrible that's why i chose them.

can we all appreciate the fact i churned this out in like two days pretty please (oh the joys of getting 8 hours of sleep every night and being off school and not completely exhausted.)

no irish in this post bc halloween is irish enough anyways yipeeee!

anyways 😈

i made a poll yesterday asking if i should give you stinkers (said lovingly) a name like im some 2019 youtuber with a bunch of fans because i yearn for the silliness and nearly everyone said yes so yipeeee! also i need ideas or else you're being called péisteanna or something equally as stupid 😈

[kassandrasdisciple]

Thoughts on:

The New Avatar Rumor

If you haven't heard Knight edge media has claimed to have seen the first 2 finalised storyboards for the Avatar tv show that'll follow the avatar after Korra.

Here's the link to their og article

There's also an article detailing a scene

Just in case any of this is actually true here's your chance to back out now, if your still here let's get into it.

The Kyoshi Parallel -

This post will mainly be me covering what jumped out to me from their two articles. The first thing that jumped out to me was how eerily similar the outline was to the Rise of Kyoshi novel. In RoK Kyoshi is a close candidate for being the Avatar, she's overlooked however, with Yun being chosen as he's a bending prodigy. Kyoshi struggles to survive as a maid/street rat, eventually being discovered as the avatar and thrust into the plot.

Our new avatar (possibly called Pavi) was also thought to be the avatar, passed over for her more adept sister, who's raised as a false avatar, and, whilst the imposter lives in luxury, Pavi struggles on the streets.

Obviously as more information comes out this correlation could strengthen or weaken. I don't mind it, and it could be a good "the Cycle repeats itself" otherwise it might be lazy recycling, time will tell.

Seven nations -

I..... hate this I think.

I love the fith nation and it's implications in RoK, and how it's spiritually lives on in Republic city, however 3 new nations?

I think it'll dilute the potents of what made the original great. The 4 elements are literally iconic, not just in Avatar but in, like, everything. History, alchemy, medicine, ect.

Avatar's cousin, The Dragon Prince, also tried using an expanded elemental system and I think it was weaker for it. Also what will set these 3 new nations apart? Will we have 3 new elements?

Now what could happen instead is that this is a post-apocalypse, and instead this is 7 new city states. THAT I don't hate. Infact it could be really interesting to see 7 last remnants of the Avatar world, after a massive disaster.

In that sense I think our survivors would be:

The Northen Water Tribe

The Southern Water Tribe

Republic City

Caldera City

Omashu

Ba Sing Se

The Southern Air Temple

I could also see any of the other temples, not just Aangs. Kyoshi island could also be a contender.

If this new world is just these last remnants that could be incredible.

Korra's feat -

Let it be said I hate power scaling fights. So the article saying this makes Korra the strongest seems weird. Secondly, this seems out of the scope of the Avatar world. I don't think Korra will actually rip apart the tectonic plates, more likely, a meteorite or such will threaten the world, and as she mitigates the damage it'll cause these new divides.

Twins -

Watch the DearFutureMe video on twin avatars for why it better not happen. Also if it turns out one is the Dark avatar I will chew my way through the floor until I land in the depths of hell.

If its neither of those I think it'll be a fun dynamic, similar to Zuko and Azula.

Hoverboards -

O H N O.

So, I've bitched about this to my friends constantly. I have always thought a third avatar show might be impossible. Aang's era is pre-industrial/industrial revolution and then Korra is the 1940~ plus a mech.

From this you get two meh options.

Either you kill Korra very young and aim for the 60s tech wise. That'll retroactively spoil LoK however. Otherwise you let Korra live and have it set roughly in the 2000's which just feels ... wrong.

This looks like we'll get the worst of both world, with 2000's era tech + future tech alla Kuvira's mech. Along with Korra dying tragically when the 7 nations disaster occurs.

I am hopeful that the disaster might create my pet theory. Where to avoid a Y2K avatar they create an apocalypse to reset the world.

Misc -

She's a girl and an amputee, that's cool, Avatar usually handles disabled and women characters well, I know they'll be discourse™ because diversity but that's only a problem if your a bigot sooooo.

Cat companion LETS GOOOOOOOOO can't wait to get plush of it.

Possible angsty teen airbender? Cool.

All in all I'm pessimistically excited, I want to hope it'll be great but I think that type of worship will just set you up to be disappointed. Either way, time will tell.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Random Facts About Joan

Bayverse!Raphael x reader

All Children Minerva Ragnar

A/N: Just thought it would be fun to give you a small list of things about each kid, and I hope you guys will find it just as fun❤️

Warnings: None❤️

The name Joan was sort of Raphael’s idea, with a good input from you. Raph would really like to name his children after strong warrior’s but came up short on names. That led you to the name Joan, after Joan of Arc. The patron saint that defended the French nation, who became a military leader. Raph found it fitting, citing that he and his brothers were named after renaissance painters, it made sense to name his first daughter after a martyr from the 1400’s.

Resting bitch face? That is Joan’s standard mode. She’s really inherited her father’s default scowling expression, narrowed eyes and downturned mouth. Paired with the crossing of her arms, she really looked like a small twin to her father.

As per tradition, when Joan turned 15, Splinter granted her a weapon that would serve her the best throughout her life, based on her preferences, her skills and her personality. Her chosen weapon was a pair of kusari-fundo. Chains with weights at the ends. And boy is she good at using them. Romeo was shocked when she almost pulled his odachi out of his hands, just by wrapping one of her chains around the blade.

Joan HATES messes. Especially in her room. She can’t take it. Her room is always clean, and she rarely lets people in there (all though it has happened that people snuck their way in. Looking at Dorothy here…), because she can’t take the thought of people messing up her things. Just don’t touch her things, unless you wish to lose a finger.

When Joan turned 13, your husband decided it was a good idea to get your first born a punching bag, especially after seeing how much she liked to use his. And that turned out to be an amazing idea, with Joan wanting it set up in her room the moment she got it.

Raph’s old boxing gloves? They’re Joan’s now. She got them/stole them, so that she could practice on her own punching bag.

It is no secret that Joan is a tough one. Actually, she might even be tougher than her own father, with an absolute iron will. Back when Joan was a young, half human half mutant turtle toddler, there was no such thing as Joan moving in order to get to Raph. No, Raph would have to move in order to get to her. She could be standing on the other side of the room, locking eyes with your husband when he was sitting on the couch, and then raise her arms, letting him know that she wanted him to carry her to the couch. And guess what, Raph would do it. Which later on would cause a lot of troubles with your second born, but that is not what we’re talking about today.

Okay, maybe Joan isn’t the toughest cookie in the world, but she is damn tough. But, she does have guilty pleasures that could be classified as more “soft”. Joan is secretly a big fan of Twilight. She has all the books and all the movies, and will watch them in her room in secret. But how did she get those books and movies without anybody knowing? Well, you’ll have to ask Joan about that.

But Joan’s absolute devastation, there was a time where Dorothy came bursting into her room, looking for a hiding spot, right in the middle of Breaking Dawn part 1. And that was how Dorothy came to know of her cousin's secret, promising not to tell anyone… if she could borrow the movies whenever she wanted to.

Ooooooooh! Who often sneaks out to the city at night? Joan does that! Who does it even if her father says it’s bad? Joan does that! But doesn’t care because humans are fun. Joan does that! And at 20 has a boyfriend from above? Joan does that!

Now back to some more family oriented. Joan LOVES spending time with her grandparents. She could be drinking tea with Master Splinter before one on one training, or spend the weekend with your parents, and she would be having the time of her life.

To most people, tough cookie Joan might seem unapproachable, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Well, that was if you knew her. As the oldest of three, she tended to be protective of her younger siblings. With a four year difference between her and Minerva, and a seven year difference between Joan and Ragnar, it was natural for her to take on a parental role at times. Even if it wasn’t needed with you and Raph around. It did happen from time to time, each time because Joan wanted what was best for her younger siblings.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Church Girl, Don’t Hurt Nobody

AN: Watch out for the good girls 🤭

Synopsis: Jack is head over heels when he meets a girl at a party back home in Louisville. Little does he know, she's holding on to a secret and Jack is the last to know.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The time on the clock read 4:45 AM and you knew that you would have to leave soon in order to get there on time and so your parents didn’t suspect anything. One thing they were strict about was being on time, but then again they were strict about everything.

How you did your hair, the kind of make-up you wore, the clothes you chose, the shoes, and even who you dated.

Left up to them you would date Vic, who was the drummer and they couldn’t and wouldn’t stop raving about him. 

However, you weren’t interested. 

He definitely wasn’t your speed and up to your standards, you preferred someone with blue eyes, curly hair, 6 '3, and from your hometown of Louisville. 

All because they had a reputation to protect and the last thing they wanted was for their youngest daughter to mess it up. You had to be careful with every single move that you made when you went out into the world.

But, when you were with him, all of that went out the window and none of it mattered. 

They weren’t nearly this hard on your other siblings, you figured it was because they did as they were told and you were the only one who gave them push back. And that had been happening for as long as you could remember. 

You didn’t ask to be born into a family of preachers, pastors, and mega churches and you believed in your heart of hearts that you should have been able to choose your own path instead of having it chosen for you. You believed the word, no doubt about it in your mind, but you just didn’t know if this was truly what you were meant to do just because you were born into it. 

Even if all that was going behind the scenes, you did love your job.

Being the lead singer and being the choir director despite how young you were. Usually in churches, the choir director wasn’t younger than 50 give or take. 

Ever since you were younger, you wanted to be an entertainer and one of your biggest inspirations was different girl groups from the 80s and 90s. Destiny’s Child, SWV, Total, Xscape, TLC, and the list goes on. 

That went out the window when you turned 13 and were told by your parents that you would now be a part of the choir and there were no exceptions so this was probably the closest that you would ever get to making that a reality. So, when it came down to it, you were an entertainer and people did know who you were to a certain extent. However, you liked to keep it lowkey as much as possible.

Rehearsals three times a week sometimes lasted for four hours and you better be on time for each service on Sunday morning. No exceptions. 

8, 10, and 12. 

Someone could be on their deathbed, but if your mother saw that you were late, she would send you to meet Jesus a little bit faster. 

You had recently moved back to Louisville permanently after helping out one of the churches that was an extension of the one your parents originally built in North Carolina and you had been there for almost six months.

When you had gotten back, your cousin Taylor had invited you to her birthday party knowing that out of all your siblings you would probably be the only one to go since it had taken place on a Saturday night and that was when you first laid eyes on him in person.

Jack.

You knew who he was and you were a big fan. When you weren’t on church duty, you would tend to sneak out of your parents house and dive into the Louisville nightlife. You always made it a priority to disguise yourself so no one would be able to know that it was you and it wouldn’t somehow get back to your parents. This had been going on ever since you were fourteen. 

Even though you had told Jack a lot about you, one thing he didn’t know was what your day job was and how you and your family are connected to Louisville. You always tried to put as much distance between you and them so that you would be able to have your own identity, but no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t work.

You wanted for him to get to know you without the label of you being a church girl or a preacher’s kid.

A lot of times when people found out, they ran for the hills having it already made up in their minds that they would never be good enough for you or be up to your parents standards. 

Jack was very special to you and the last thing you wanted to do was lose him.

All that you would tell Jack is that you liked to sing in your spare time at your parents’ business.

However, you still hadn’t sang for him yet and he definitely did not know what your parents did.

You thought for sure he caught on when you told him your last name, but it still didn’t. And the crazy part is when you told him, the two of you were on a late night ice cream date and there you two were in the heart of the city standing directly under a billboard of your parents. 

He would find out soon, you promised yourself that you would tell him when the time was right. You just hoped that he didn’t look at you differently once you did. 

You were currently doing your best to try to ease Jack’s arm off of you in order not to wake him up, but of course you immediately failed when he responded by hugging you tighter. This quickly lead to you getting a smile on your face.

“Where are you running off to now? I actually caught you this time. Usually you’re gone before I’m awake.” Jack raspily asked you before placing a kiss on your neck.

“I just have to do a few things before meeting my parents. You know how they are if I’m late.”

“And when am I going to meet these parents of yours?”

He would bring this up periodically, but truth be told you were scared. You loved the thrill of being able to sneak around and have a secret relationship without anyone being in your business and you embraced it. You did plan for Jack to be in your life for the long haul, so it was only a matter of time until he didn’t take not yet for an answer anymore. 

“Never if it was left up to me. But soon, I promise. I just have to tell them about you.”

Jack was now wide awake and sat up while looking down at you in disbelief and you quickly looked away.

“Babe, you still haven’t told them?” 

“My parents are different and they just… can be very judgmental of people and things and the complete opposite of me. My mother more so than my dad. I think that he would really like you. I don’t want to have to subject you to that if I don’t have to. I mean, I barely like to be around her so I highly doubt that you will either.”

When the both of you fell for each other, you both fell HARD. It was only a month into the relationship when Jack wanted you to meet his parents and had no hesitations on letting you know how he felt. 

“Don’t think I’m rushing you, I just thought that you would have at least mentioned me to them by now. You’ve already met mine and they love you.”

Even though it was only a month in when he wanted you to meet them, it didn’t actually take place until last week. At dinner you noticed how Maggie kept looking at you curiously and it wasn’t until she had pulled you to the side later on and said what a big fan she was of your voice and how Jack would speak so highly of you. She also said how she wasn’t surprised because she knew how well people spoke of your parents.

Even his parents knew your connection to the gospel world, but he didn’t. The relationship was still fairly new and you were going at your own pace with revealing everything to him.

He would travel a lot so that was your excuse for not saying anything, no matter how poor of an excuse it was. Every time he brought it up, you would say how busy your parents were running their business and you and your siblings always had to help them keep it afloat.

He just didn’t know that business was a mega church that had multiple locations in Kentucky and in other states. 

“The only person who knows about you is my best friend and she’s also sworn to secrecy. I’d rather you meet her first before you meet them. She knows all about you.”

Your best friend Taina was also in the choir with you and you told her everything knowing that she would never break your trust or tell your parents about your secret relationship with Jack or anyone else in your family for that matter. When going out with him, she did her best to disguise you as well as she could so that no one would recognize you. It’s worked for the past few months, but you knew that your luck would eventually run out. A lot of times you would wear Jack’s clothes to make it a bit easier, but being 4’11 you were limited to only his shirts and sweatshirts. 

You could only hide a Grammy winning gospel artist for so long no matter how low key you thought that you were being. 

“Soon, okay? I.. don’t want anything or anyone to ruin this for me or for us.”

“Why do you think someone would ruin it?” Jack asked while moving you to lay on his chest.

“Once you meet my family, you’ll understand.”

It was now six in the morning on a Sunday and you were speeding back to the house that you shared with your parents, siblings, and their spouses along with your nieces and nephews.

You happened to be the only one out of all your siblings who wasn’t married. 

Your parents had an estate built along with sections for each of their children along with their families so no one would ever have to leave.

But you knew better, it was so your mother could keep an eye on all of you. 

It was easy for you to sneak out and meet Jack because of the separate entrance to your section and no one really bothered you.

You believed deep down that your siblings didn’t like you because no matter how much push back you gave your parents, they always gave you anything that you wanted. Except for your big sister Eden. You were closest with her and would share a lot with her. Many times you debated on telling her about Jack, but every time you went to tell her, you backed out, scared of what her reaction was going to be. 

However, all of the pushback came from your mother and not your father.

You knew she loved you but didn’t like you.

She was close to your two other sisters, Eden and Grace, but when it came to you there was somewhat of a disconnect no matter how much you tried to get in her good graces. 

So, you gave up trying to please her a while ago.

Whenever you did something she didn’t like, she would simply throw out bible verses in your face and say how you were being disobedient. She was one of those Christians that twisted the word to fit their narrative. 

And you knew for a fact that no one was supposed to do that. 

You slipped in the house quietly by 6:30 and immediately went to pick out your outfit. You sent a text to Jack to let him know that you were safe before hopping in the shower making sure there wasn’t a trace of his scent left on you which would lead to more questions. 

Once you came out of the shower, your big sister Eden was sitting on your bed startling you.

“Sh– EDEN!”

“Go ahead and finish that first word.” She said while smirking, but all you did was roll your eyes.

“What did you need?” You asked while looking for your peach scented body butter that Jack had gifted you last week.

“Nothing, but where were you?”

“How did you know I went somewhere?”

“Don’t start, little one. You did go somewhere. You know you can tell me and that I won’t tell her. I never do.”

“I went out to see Taina and that was it. Got tired and stayed over last night, that’s all.”

Eden knew that you were lying to her, but wasn’t going to push it any further.

“I’ll let it slide for now, but I’ll get it out of you sooner or later.” She replied while hopping up off your bed and leaving your room.

You then let out a breath that you didn’t know that you were holding.

You then looked for an outfit that had to fit with the color scheme for this week and the choir had decided on blue and black. You made sure that the outfit didn’t have a lot of skin showing, proceeded to do your make-up and hair and made your way downstairs to sit with your family at the breakfast table.

“You’re late.” Your mother muttered while not even looking up from her notes. 

“It’s not even 7:30 and I see that the rest of you are still here too. So how am I late? And late for what? They haven’t even brought the food out.” You asked while slipping in your seat next to your older sister Eden who gave you a small warning look to tell you to let it go, but she knew you better than that. 

“Eric, get that daughter of yours.” Your mother simply replied and you rolled your eyes.

“It is literally barely 7 in the morning and the two of you need to get a grip.” Your father said while mouthing sorry to you, but you simply waved him off.

“It’s fine, daddy. I’ll just leave early since my presence is such an inconvenience for her and always has been since I’ve been born. Just say you don’t like me and go.” You said while scooting away from the table, but your father tried to stop you along with Eden. 

“You’re my daughter! And you think I don’t like you?”

“Oh, I know for a fact that you don’t. Because I’m not like your other children. Anyway, Hannah, can I just get a cup of hot tea?” You asked Hannah who was the cook that worked for your family and she quickly nodded and you simply got up to follow her into the kitchen while your mother sat at the table and shook her head.

“That girl, I swear. She’s going to put me into an early grave, just you watch.”

“You’re too hard on her and you know it. I’ve told you that I don’t know how many times. All she ever wanted was a relationship with her mother, but you keep pushing her away so what do you expect?” Your father asked her and took a sip of his orange juice.

“She’s just different from the rest of us. I know that she means well in her own little way.” Eden was your oldest sibling who always took up for you and defended you.

“Of course you would defend her.” Grace muttered while rolling her eyes and got a look from Eden in return. 

“Well, she needs to get on the same page. Eden, she is an adult and you need to stop defending her and babying her. She is 27 years old and needs to act like it. I don’t know where I went so wrong with her. This empire is not going to fall or be embarrassed by her. We have worked too hard for her to undo this.”

“Mom, don’t do that. She’s my sister and I’m always going to defend her. Especially when all due respect, you’re in the wrong. She always tries to do right by you, but no matter how hard she tries it never seems to be enough. Sooner or later, you are going to push her away and she won’t want anything to do with you or anyone in this family. I love my baby sister and I’m going to show her that at least one person in this family supports and cares for her.”

All your mother did was sit quietly in response until Hannah had come back in the room.

“Hannah, will you make baby girl’s favorite for dinner tonight? I need to apologize to her later.”

When the last service was finally over, you switched your shoes from your black stilettos to New Balance slides and let out a sigh of relief as you were now in your new G Wagon that was a gift from your father last month. You were patiently waiting for Taina who had been talking to a few people. You wanted to get out there as quickly as possible and didn’t stay long for someone to have an opportunity to start talking to you. 

You took the opportunity to facetime Jack and he immediately answered. He was still laying in the same position as he was when you had left him this morning and all you did was let out a small laugh. 

You couldn’t blame him one bit since this was a rare off day for him. His album was getting ready to be released and you knew that he better soak this all in now and you needed to soak in being able to spend quality time with him now too because in the upcoming months it might be far in between. 

“Hey babe, still sleep?” You asked and he let out somewhat of a groan.

“I take that as a yes.”

“No, I’m up. How did meeting up with your parents go?”

“It could have gone better, but we’re not focusing on that right now. My dad was fine as always, it’s just that mother of mine.” You answered thinking back to this morning.

“Oh, I wanted to ask you something, baby. You aren’t doing anything next Friday are you?” Jack asked and a smile erupted on his face. 

Choir rehearsal, but it could be moved to Thursday. If Friday was going to allow you to spend more time with your boyfriend, you were all for it. 

“No, what’s going on?”

“My album release party and I want you there. Just a few people, nothing too big.”

You stared off into space a little bit thinking about if someone took pictures and them getting back to your parents.

All hell would break loose.

Literally.

“Baby, did you hear me?” Jack asked while looking at you confused since you hadn’t given him an answer.

“Yeah, I heard you. I would love to. I’m very proud of you and I can’t wait to listen to the entire album since you only told me the titles of the songs.”

“It’s only right that I have the person who I wrote Poison about there with me.”

He told you that he wrote Poison about you without even letting you listen to it and you had to promise him that when you finally did that he had to be with you. 

“One question.”

“I already know. I promise it’s lowkey and no cameras are allowed in. I got you and I want you to be comfortable. You don’t want your parents to know about us yet, so I took all of the precautions that I needed to.”

“Looks like I have to go and get a new outfit.”

You decided to consult Taina when she had gotten in the car with you and she didn’t like the idea at all with the possibility of your so-called secret being revealed. 

“Umm Y/N, someone is bound to recognize you and it will get back to your parents. I’m actually surprised Jack hasn’t caught on yet to who you are and who your family is. And you’ve been dodging meeting his friends too, so now what is about to happen? You’re definitely going to meet them on Friday.”

“T, I want to support my boyfriend and I’m going to go. I can deal with them later.”

“And the fact that you still haven’t said anything to Jack? He is probably going to be very mad at you when you finally do or be pissed at you when he finds out from someone else. You need to come clean and tell him. And deal with them how? You are a preacher’s daughter dating one of the biggest rappers on the planet! You know all your mother cares about is her reputation and will throw you under the bus any second that she gets in order to keep it afloat.”

“I promise I will. And I’ll do it soon.” You answered her while pulling into her driveway and putting the car in park.

“Y/N, you and Jack have been together for almost four months. How much longer are you going to dodge this? Time is running out and this is about to be a hot mess when shit hits the fan. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You worry too much, T. I got this all under control.”

“Sneaking out of your parents house to see your boyfriend is what you call having it under control? You are 27 years old!”

“It’s not an ideal situation, but it’ll get there. Just….. I appreciate you for having my back and always supporting me.”

“I’ll do it until the end of time, you know that. I love how happy you’ve been since you met him despite everything that goes on with your family. Just…. Be careful.”

Jack’s album release party was now underway and you finally had the chance to meet everyone that was associated with him. It was finally nice to be able to put names to faces that you had heard so much about. 

You loved how supportive they were of him and how highly they talked about him and even dished out how often he talked about you. They were happy that he had found someone like you that was supportive just like they were and only wanted good things for him.

The relationship between the two of you wasn’t a secret to who Jack was close to, and you wanted to keep it that way. However, this was your first time meeting all of them in person and getting to know them. As far as you knew, Jack had only told them your first name and the picture that he had shown them was an off guard pic that didn’t show your face very well. 

Just like T said, a preacher’s daughter dating a rapper?

You could only imagine the story as it hit The Shade Room.

Jack was doing his rounds across the room, while periodically coming to check if you were okay and make sure that you were comfortable. It helped that you were in a dark corner and it would be hard for anyone to recognize you. 

And just like he promised, no cameras. 

You were currently seated next to Neelam making small talk and she had suggested that the two of you hung out together without all of the boys around and you quickly accepted.

“So, how did you and Jack meet? He never told me.” She asked while looking over at you and smiling.

“Taylor Rooks birthday party. I just happened to know a few people that were going and they dragged me along. And from then, the rest is history. And the person that I knew was going was Taylor since she’s my cousin on my dad’s side.”

“He talks about you non-stop and it’s finally good to put a face to your name. You’re good for him in more ways than one. He has never shown this much interest in anyone before.”

“And that’s all I would ever want for him. He’s very special and I want him in my life for a long time.”

Jack was now back surrounded by Private Garden and he noticed that they were all looking at him. They wanted to ask him this before you and Neelam came back over here from getting your drinks. 

“What? Is something wrong?” He asked and Urban was the first to speak up.

“We didn’t know that you were into church girls. And highly famous ones at that. Once she told us her last name it clicked.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Jack asked while opening his sparkling water.

“Come on man, you had to know before you asked her out.” 2fo piped up while looking at him in disbelief. 

“What did I have to know? I’m confused.”

“You don’t know you’re dating Y/N Nevaeh Hamilton? The daughter of Eric and Adelaide Hamilton? The big ass mega church that is known in Louisville and people come from all over to go to it? She’s literally the choir director and her middle name is heaven spelled backwards! Jack, come on. And she’s won multiple Grammys for her gospel songs, she has an amazing voice. Even though I don’t think she’s ever gone in person except once. She gets nominated like every year.”

“Her parents literally own like half of the city.”

“Make that half of Kentucky. And they have multiple locations in different states.”

“And they have a private jet.”

“Damn, Jack is fucking the preacher’s daughter. Now that’s something I thought that I would never say. Definitely not on my 2022 bingo card.”

“Her mother is really the one who preaches and her dad does sometimes. And she has like four siblings. Eden, Grace, Matthew, and Malachi.”

Jack was sitting there in disbelief taking it all in that you would hide something as big as this from him. He simply looked over at you smiling while talking to Neelam and couldn’t help but to be disappointed. 

“I guess you haven’t met her parents yet? I wonder how they feel about their daughter dating a rapper? I can imagine that there would be some push back.” Quiiso asked. 

“No, not yet. She would always say soon, and that they were different.”

“Yall have literally been together for close to four months and her parents don’t even know a rapper is clapping their youngest daughter’s cheeks? And I thought they wouldn’t have sex until they were married anyway. Shit, did you marry her?!”

“You didn’t need to add that part, Nemo!” 

“No, we’re not married and after tonight we might not even be together when I confront her about this. How do all of you know all this?”

“Uhh social media? You mean to tell me you don’t follow your own girl? That’s why we’re all confused on how you didn’t know hardly anything about her. I mean you have been in your own little world focusing on getting your album done and the relationship is fairly new. My mother blasts her music every time I go and visit her. Right when you introduced her to us, it clicked.”

“She told me that she never uses social media.”

“Well, shit. It might not be her, but someone is definitely running her page and posting for her.” Urban said while scratching the back of his neck. 

“Now, Jack… don’t do anything that you’re going to regret. She’s a sweet girl and we can tell she cares about you a lot. Don’t ruin that.”

“And she might have a good reason for keeping you a secret from her parents. You never know, just hear her out.”

That’s when Shloob handed Jack his phone and it was a Tik Tok of you singing and he was floored. 

-----

The video ended at the perfect time just as you and Neelam came back to join them and you took your rightful seat next to Jack and could tell that he was pissed off.

“Babe, you okay? Did something happen?” You whispered in his ear and all he did was shake his head at you.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay.”

Now you were nervous because you had no idea what was about to happen when the two of you left and were alone. You couldn’t help but to think that somehow his anger was directed at you and that was the last thing that you ever wanted. Your life at home was rough enough as it is and he was literally your peace and escape from it. 

When the two of you finally reached Jack’s condo, he didn’t even hesitate. The car ride had been awkward and no matter how much you tried to get him to talk to you, he wouldn’t.

“Babe, what is going on with you? Can you please tell me so that we can fix it?” You said as the two of you were barely across the threshold.

“Do you have something that you want to tell me?” Jack asked while not even looking over at you.

“Like what? I loved meeting your friends and I already told you how proud I was of you. Did I miss something?”

“So, you forgot to mention to me who you are and who your parents are? Being a multi-winning artist who has multiple Grammys is something wild to keep from me.”

Oh, shit. He knows. 

“What? What do you mean?”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to meet them because you are basically out here living a double life. And it was the fact that my best friends knew more about you than me and I’m your boyfriend! And deep down I knew that something was off. I mean I get we don't run in the same circles, but still."

“Baby, I know you’re mad, but please let me explain.” You pleaded with Jack, but all he did was shake his head at you.

“Pissed is more like it because you LIED to me. I have never lied to you in the entire time that we’ve been together. How long did you think that you would be able to keep this up for? I get I’ve been living under a rock for a little while to finish the album but damn a heads up would have been nice. Your parents own like half of Kentucky!”

“I just… my parents. I never wanted to lie, I just didn’t tell you the entire truth.”

“Who gives a shit about your parents? You love me don’t you? So why should that matter? And as bad as you talk about them why do you even give a fuck if they approve of us or not? And not telling me the entire truth is definitely lying.”

“It’s not that simple! And of course I love you! A lot would come with this! Just because my parents don’t approve is one thing, but the entire community behind them is another. All that they have worked for could go away in the blink of an eye if I don’t do this the right way! People are so critical of celebrities as it is, but someone who represents God in the public eye is an entire different ballgame. When certain things happen in our community, you’ll be lucky that they don’t crucify you like they did Jesus himself. Come on, you literally have a song called I Wanna See Some Ass. I can’t exactly play that song at a church function, now can I?”

“What is the right way? I hope you don’t think what you had been doing this time was! Hiding me? Lying to me? Lying to your family?”

“You don’t understand, Jackman! So much is riding on this! And I didn’t hide you!”

“Well help me to understand! And what the hell do you call not really going out with me in public?! HIDING!”

“You aren’t a preacher’s kid so I have no way of making it so you do! Please try to see this from my point of view because if they were to come from me, they would come for you too. I could not risk that with your album being released! I was thinking of you!”

“Then try! Try to make me understand! And don’t even give me that! As much as I care about you, you thought that this was going to scare me off?”

“Because that’s what people usually do when they find out. I wanted to keep you to myself for as long as possible no matter how selfish it might sound. People have watched my every move since the day that I was born including my parents so that I could not only live up to their standards, but the community that is behind us. I never wanted to sing in church, but I felt that it was my only option because singing the kind of music I wanted to and being in the music industry would not have gone over well with them. As much as I complain about my parents, I do still love them and do not want anything bad to happen because of me. I was going to tell them, I promise you. And I was going to tell you about them.”

“And you waited so long that someone beat you to it. It’s only a matter of time before someone leaks that you were there with me tonight. If I would have known this, we could have been more careful. Because I made sure that there was a no camera policy, we were literally all over each other almost the entire night. That never occurred to you that would be a problem later?”

“Well hopefully they don’t. All I wanted to do was support my boyfriend.”

“Preacher’s daughter seen with Jack Harlow at his album release party is something that you think no one is going to leak? Come on now babe, you’re smarter than that.”

Just then Jack’s phone went off and he looked at it while muttering ‘fuck’ underneath his breath.

“What?” You asked him while coming closer.

He simply handed you his phone and you looked at it in disbelief.

Liked by dojacat, saweetie, laflame1017, champagnepapi, jackharlowsource, mariahthescientist, cardib, and 5,980,436 others

theshaderoom: new couple alert! look who we caught leaving jackharlow's album release party! no one other than Y/N Neveah Hamilton the daughter of Eric and Adelaide Hamilton who are well known preachers that reside in Louisville. Eye witness accounts say that the two of them were all over each other the entire night! we wonder what her parents have to say about this. preacher's kid dating a rapper? We'll keep you posted as we learn more. what do you think about this roommates?

jackharlowsource: damn jack got him a BADDIE

dojacat: jack, if you can't handle her, send her my way. whewwww she's gorgeous

druski2funny: jackharlow 2022 is looking up my boy! new album and a new girlfriend! can't wait to meet ms y/n in person! in the mean time, is she taking prayer requests? because I have some

urbandjack: I am not mad at this AT ALL

keepingupwiththehamiltons: oh. can't wait until mommy and daddy hear about this one!

You didn't even bother looking at the rest of the comments before looking back over at your boyfriend.

"What did I fucking tell you?" Was all he said while sitting down on the couch.

"My parents are going to kill me."

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[dragonfire-hq]

On the eve of the grand feast and the re-crowning of Queen Visenya Targaryen II, Xaerys Velaryon and Vaegon Targaryen, cousins bound by an unlikely friendship due to their families' strained ties, ventured into the heart of King’s Landing. The city, still reeling from the hardships of a long winter, was a dangerous place, filled with hungry smallfolk and simmering unrest. The pair sought to escape the weight of their noble obligations, but the streets were rife with treachery.

Xaerys, whose once-adventurous spirit had been tempered by frailty, struggled to keep pace as Vaegon led them into the shadowy alleys near the brothels. Vaegon went inside the brothel, leaving Xaerys to aid himself with some milk of the poppy. It was here that Xaerys, left vulnerable, drew the attention of desperate thieves. Their eyes fell upon his richly adorned cane, its Valyrian steel rod topped with a sea-dragon carving—a symbol of wealth and status. Seeing an opportunity, they ambushed him, their greed driving them to violence.

As Vaegon indulged in the distractions of the brothel, the thieves struck, killing Xaerys and leaving his body to the vultures as they fled with their prize. The chaos of a brewing riot engulfed the streets, forcing Vaegon to abandon any thought of retrieving his cousin. Guilt-ridden and unsure of what actions to take, he fled back to the keep and brought the night’s events to his sister, Princess Vaelora Targaryen.

Vaelora recognized the delicate implications of such news spreading within the keep. She acted swiftly, sending for Alson, a trusted agent, to retrieve Xaerys’ body from the streets of Flea Bottom. She deliberately withheld the information from the Velaryons, knowing the storm it would unleash.

As the day unfolded, Xaerys, always one to fade into the background, was not immediately noticed for his absence. However, as the hours crept closer to the feast, the Velaryons became alarmed when the second eldest son was nowhere to be found. News of his disappearance reached Queen Visenya, who quickly summoned the City Watch and the Queensguard to form a search party. The queen assured her cousins that Xaerys would be found, even as the festivities began under a veil of unease.

The shadow of Xaerys’ disappearance loomed over the celebration, threatening to disrupt the fragile unity of the court and exposing the cracks within the Targaryen and Velaryon alliance. With secrets buried in the cobbled streets of King’s Landing, the search for Xaerys promised to unravel more than just his tragic fate.

____________________________________________________________________________ tdlr: the night before the final feast, vaegon took xaerys out for a night of fun and mischief in fleabottom. when they arrive at a brothel, xaerys takes a moment alone outside to ready himself and is attacked by thugs who want to steal his ornate cane. a mob forms and over takes him. vaegon, distraught, runs back to the keep to find vaelora, the only one he trusts with this. vaelora knows they need to stay on top of this and tasks alson to retrieve xaerys’ body and bring him back to the keep. no one will know what has happened, but xaerys’ absence will be noted as the day goes on

The only muses that are privy to any information regarding Xaery’s disappearance are those that were randomly chosen to participate in the plot drop and those that were key players for the narrative such as Vaegon, Vaelora, and Alson, all played by your friendly admins. As it stands now, no one except the three muses, played by the admins, know the actual truth. The rest are to do freely with what bits of information their characters have and the roles they have been chosen to play. Ideally, we would like these to be fleshed out and accomplished during the discord event.

Cersha was with Vaelora when Vaegon sought his sister out. 

Cedric saw Vaegon in the brothel in flea bottom. 

Telessa saw Xaerys leave the keep shortly after the prince. 

Helaena heard Vaegon crying in hushed voices to his sister. 

Tybalt mentions to Jaenara that the Targaryens could’ve killed her brother. 

Let an admin know if you have any questions!

[duchessofostergotlands]

hello! i have a question about titles, if you don't mind.

my friend was asking me to make sense of a title debacle in the latest season of bridgerton (which i actually haven't watched, so there's actually a chance this might be wrong, sorry), where the season protagonist's father was a baron, but then he died and the title went to a distant cousin, but then the previous baron's widow made the new baron run away and forged some document saying he was abdicating (i think?), and so the title would go to the first male child that was born between the girl and her two sisters. i checked some of the stuff you've said on titles before, and what i gathered from it is that it would be possible for there to be no more males on the line, and for the girls to be the closest living relatives and come to some agreement between themselves that whoever had the first son gets to petition for the title and have the other two back up her claim, but i'm not sure the cousin could abdicate i the first place? like, if he ended up having a son, his claim (as son of the last baron) would definitely outweigh that of the protagonist's son (as grandson of the penultimate baron).

i know the real answer is "it's bridgerton, they're not really renowned for their accuracy", but it got me curious about the hypothetical scenario, and who better to ask about this than you 😁

Hello :) I haven't watched it either so my answer may also not actually relate to the actual TV show haha. I also know, as you say, that it's just a TV show and is not in any way reflective of reality (the titles being probably the least obvious example of that!). But as you asked, I'll answer about how it would play out in real life. The short answer is that wouldn't happen in any way whatsoever lol. But in more depth, from what I can tell it sounds like there's two elements to this: the renunciation of the titles and the inheritance of this first male baby of the sisters.

Renouncing the title: The ability to disclaim a peerage was only written into law in 1963. That doesn't mean that something similar hasn't ever happened in English/British history but it was extremely rare, it didn't happen the way you describe through just a letter, and in the mid 17th century (before Bridgerton) the House of Lords stated it couldn't be done without the title becoming entirely extinct. The only thing you could do was choose not to use the title and not to take your seat up in the House of Lords, which is something that did happen in rare cases into the Georgian era (for example the 6th Earl of Berkeley). However, if someone had chosen not to use their peerage or the privileges associated with it then it wouldn't just go to the next person. It basically pauses until the holder dies and then it passes on in the normal way. So presumably this character whose signature was forged is still alive, in which case the title couldn't go to anyone until his death and if he had sons then it would still go to them.

Inheriting through women: The way a title is inherited is stipulated in the Letters Patent which created it, and they can't be changed after the fact. The default for peerages at the time and now is that they are inherited by "heirs male of the body." Essentially this means that not only are women barred from inheriting but they also can't transmit a claim to a title. So generally speaking the baby boy would not be able to inherit as his claim is through a woman. There is an exception which applies to some ancient English titles - usually baron titles - where girls can inherit and transmit their claim. I think this is what you've read about in previous posts. Basically for these titles they go down the sons in birth order and then they go to the daughters but all the daughters have equal claim, unhelpfully. As a title can't be shared, it goes into a state called abeyance where the title is essentially held by no one until the clear heir is found. There's more on abeyances here but I actually won't go too far into it because this situation is not abeyance. There are a few reasons I can tell it's not an abeyance but I'll focus on the main one. So in the show this peer has three daughters and no sons. Under male only primogeniture the title would skip all of the daughters and all their descendants and go to the next male in line and so on. The baby boy could not inherit. If they were one of those rare titles where women/their descendants could inherit, then before the title went to a distant cousin or other male line relative it would have gone to the daughters and immediately gone into abeyance. In Bridgerton the first scenario happens which tells us that this title could never be inherited by women or their descendants (unless they had a separate claim generations later). Basically either the title claim goes to the distant cousin or it goes to the daughters and their kids, but it cannot go to both.

So in short, it's not a possible situation in our reality. Titles couldn't be renounced in that way and the fact that the title went to the distant cousin shows us that the claim couldn't be transmitted through women anyway so even if he did somehow successfully renounce his title, the baby boy couldn't' get it.

[jaimeslanisters]

the pawn in every lover's game (part nine)

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

When you’re ten, your father sends you to King's Landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. A lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

crossposted on ao3 masterlist word count: 13.4k notes: i lost complete control of myself while writing so this is a MASSIVE chapter daskjfljdsfl enjoy (: it's melee time

Jocasta Lannister is an undeniably sweet girl, you know this. On the ride from Lannisport, when all of your other cousins were eagerly making their flower wreaths for knights that may or may not ask for their favors, she had sat with you in the wheelhouse, complimenting your choice of wildflowers and the way you had braided the stems together. There is not one calculating bone in her body - she’s all softness and gentle smiles. The Seven had smiled down at her when they had granted her a boon in being born a Lannister but there was nothing lionlike about her. Nothing that would mean she had had any bad intentions when she had given Victor Florent one of the dozens of Lannister-themed handkerchiefs you have made as embroidery practice throughout your life.

Jocasta Lannister is a sweet girl but she’s a dumb girl and that, if you’re feeling uncharitable and you are, is almost worse than being outright malicious. If malice had driven her hand, you could be impressed that she had managed to maneuver you into exactly the position she wanted, that her and Victor’s scheme had gone flawlessly and that you were simply outplayed. That was respectable. Except, instead of a secret plan behind her back, she had given him the handkerchief out of a misguided attempt to help.

That was just annoying.

“I’m not angry, Jocasta,” you reiterate, feeling your head pulse in frustration. Your cousin looks close to tears, her cheeks a bright red as she holds herself back gamely. You didn’t want to have this conversation - you honestly hadn’t even planned on it. Your plan had been to just give her a cold shoulder seeing as, sooner rather than later, she would be shipped right back to Lannisport. There were more important things to worry about. The tea with the Florents was meant to happen in a few minutes and you were supposed to walk over with your father and uncle together. Except now Jason is off who knows where and Tyland had gone out to look for him to drag him along and so, of course, Jocasta had chosen this exact moment to “confess all her sins” to you. You didn’t want to deal with this - not now. Not with the tea looming over your head. Not with Erren thrice-damned Florent and his son waiting for you. Not with Aemond participating in a melee today, something that you know he would have never done if it wasn’t for Victor Florent forcing his hand.

You had bigger things to deal with than Jocasta’s guilt but, instead of snapping at her, you take a deep breath, trying to force your annoyance down. “It’s alright. Honestly. It’s over and it’s done with. It’s fine.”

Jocasta sniffles, her big round green eyes peering up at you with guilt. She really is a sweet girl. “But it’s not! I didn’t know that he wasn’t actually courting you! Just… the way he talked about you and your sweetness-” you snort here but your cousin continues on as if she hasn’t even heard you. “And your kindness and your beauty… I just thought there was no way a man could say all of that if he wasn’t seeing you!”

You sigh, rubbing at your temples and debating the pros and cons of just leaving. “You’re young, Jocasta. Men will say whatever they must to get what they want. It was… an honest mistake. One I hope you will not repeat again soon,” you say, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder. She may have only been three years - if that - younger, but you feel the small age gap between the two of you as if it’s three decades instead.

Lannisport is a safer place than King’s Landing, you reason as you watch Jocasta wipe at her eyes. There’s no need for her to be cautious of the intentions of others there, not when every other person is another Lannister.

Your cousin offers you a wobbly smile even as, behind her, Jason and Tyland enter the apartments, deep in discussion as they speak in lowered tones. “Thank you,” she murmurs pitifully, her voice still shaky. “Ser Victor is wrong about Prince Aemond. He must truly care for you if he’s entering the melee. It’s not at all what he thinks.”

You blink, eyes going sharp as you stare down your guileless relative. Jocasta, after a moment, notices your gaze and she shifts awkwardly in place, looking as if she’s torn between breaking down into tears again or bolting for her room. “What do you mean by that?” You ask, voice soft, feeling ice creep down your spine. “What did Victor Florent say about Aemond?”

She looks hesitant and frightened, and, when you finally reach your limit and reach over to grab her wrist, she bursts into nervous tears. Behind her, Jason and Tyland look baffled but you don’t have time for them, pulling Jocasta close so you can look her directly in the eye.

“Jocasta,” you repeat, feeling your patience grow thinner and thinner until you’re certain it will snap. “What did Victor say?”

“I-I didn’t… I’m sorry!” She wails and you fight the urge to roll your eyes, wishing she would grab control of herself for just a moment. “He said… He said that Prince Aemond took advantage of your friendship with Princess Helaena so he could use you to better his standing in court! And that he frightens the ladies with his eye and you’re also frightened but you’re much too polite to say that so you just tolerate him! Ser Victor told me that Prince Aemond has scared off the other men in court from you and he knew that if you could, you would give Ser Victor your favor but that you’re frightened of the Prince’s reaction an-”

“That’s quite enough,” You cut in, barely containing your rage. They’re not her words but that doesn’t mean the urge to strike her goes away and instead, you pull your hand away from her, gripping it tightly with your other one to hold yourself in check. Your cousin blinks at you, her eyes reddened, and you stiffly nod your head at her, dismissing her without words. She immediately bolts and you stare down at the patch of ground she had once occupied, taking deep breaths and trying to find some calm within yourself so you don’t do something rash like enter the melee yourself just to get the chance to try and stab Victor Florent.

Victor Florent was a fool. Aemond was the One-Eyed Prince yet he could see you more clearly than Victor ever could.

Wishing you could break something just to watch it shatter, you calm your beating heart, swallowing your rage and pushing it down.

Not now. Not now.

But soon.

After a few moments, when calmness finds you, you look up at your watching father and cousin, and you smile at them, the mask coming easy to you. “Shall we go?” You ask and they look back, their perfectly identical faces quizzical.

Jason opens his mouth to say something but Tyland clears his throat, elbowing his brother in the ribs. “Of course, little one,” he says, stepping up to you and offering you his arm. “The Florents are waiting.”

——————————–

Regretfully, the gardens are lovely today and, as you and your family greet the Florents, you wish that the day wasn’t so pleasant as well. Spring is well underway and, around the terrace your father has selected as a meeting place, beautiful red roses bloom, their smell wafting through the air pleasantly. Looking at them, however, reminds you of the crown Victor had given you - a crown that some servant had probably thrown away by now - and you stubbornly look away from them, sliding into your seat as soon as you can.

“I’m thankful you could make the time to host this tea, my lord,” Victor says the moment the men all sit as well, leaning across the table eagerly. His gray eyes are bright in the sun and it makes him look that much younger, more boy than anything resembling a man. “I’ll admit - I have been hoping for quite some time that we could meet like this under these circumstances.”

Erren laughs, patting his son on the back. He’s steady, confident, and you watch him carefully, looking for a reason why. “It’s nearly all he writes to me about! Nothing about his training or his service in the City Watch. Instead, he just writes about your daughter’s beauty and kindness.”

“I’m surprised my lord could fill so many letters with that sort of talk,” you reply, smiling sweetly at the two Florents as their gazes swing away from your father to look at you. “We haven’t had many conversations in the past for you to be so well acquainted with my nature.” At your side, Tyland jabs you in the side with his fingers and, under the table, you swat back at him, maintaining your pleasant expression.

Erren’s eyes darken but Victor only smiles shyly. “I cherish our precious few conversations and, I’ll admit, I have admired you from afar for some time now.”

You admire from afar because that’s the distance I keep you at you think sourly, remembering all the times you’ve had to duck into other rooms or start impromptu conversations with whoever was closest just to avoid his overly lengthy monologues about how he could support and maintain you with only his savings and his love.

“I’ve tried a few times before, actually, to secure a betrothal meeting but your uncle always denied me,” Victor continues, laughing slightly as if it was a grand joke, and you almost feel a flash of pity for his clueless bumbling. He’s a clueless fox in a den of lions and dragons and he doesn’t feel the danger all around. All he sees is you and you wonder, not for the first time, how he could have survived this long.

Tyland gives him a close-lipped smile. “My niece has two older sisters. It’d be inappropriate if she were to get engaged before them so you can understand my hesitancy in entering any such negotiations.”

“Ah, yes, but I’ve met Lord Garth Tarly,” Erren cuts in, smiling that awful empty smile of his. The golden fox brooch on his lapel catches the light, shining and blinding. “Charming young lad. Shame that he had to become the Lord of Horn Hill so young but he seems to have handled his ascension with grace and maturity. From what I’ve heard, he seems to be quite besotted with the Lady Tyshara. He’s refusing all marriage pacts that come his way for her.”

Jason nods even as he reaches for the carafe of wine on the table to pour himself a drink. “My Tyshara visited the Reach on a tour a year or two ago. She met Lord Tarly and they’ve kept up a correspondence since. I had no idea he was so charmed by her.”

He did have an idea. You all had an idea. If Garth Tarly could have it his way, he and Tyshara would have long been married by now, Cerelle’s marital status be damned. Once, she let you read the letters he always sends and you had been left with the distinct impression that, even if the Maiden herself descended from the Seven Heavens and begged to marry Lord Tarly, he would refuse in hopes that he would one day soon be united with his beloved Golden Beauty.

Of course, none of you were about to let Erren Florent know that, especially since the inappropriateness of being betrothed prior to Cerelle and Tyshara was one of the thin shields you could wield against him. Instead, you tilt your head in surprise, eyes going wide in mock shock.

Erren seemingly does not mind though that no one in your family is confirming or denying the rumor. “Regardless, it seems that young Lord Tarly is charmed by some lady, Lady Tyshara or otherwise. There can be no other explanation for his remaining unmarried. Of course, he is still very young and he has a younger brother to serve as his heir but it’s terribly shocking for him to refuse all betrothal meetings.”

“What other men choose to do with their marriage beds is their business,” Jason firmly says, laughing to soften his edge. “I’m sure Lord Tarly knows what he’s doing.”

“Of course,” Erren immediately concedes even though his eyes flash in victory. “I have no doubt he has a plan in mind. He may have even already chosen a bride.”

You glance at your father, hiding a wince when relief briefly flickers on his face as he nods. He’s showing his cards too soon and too early and Erren Florent, while a bumbling idiot who insults more than he charms, is not so complete a fool that he would miss the way Jason relaxes when you move off Tyshara’s all-but-official betrothal. He knows and that knowledge gives him the confidence to pursue the same with you.

“If your family could accept my suit, then we can hold off any betrothal announcements,” Victor says and you can’t quite help but tense as he lays his intentions bare. You had come to this tea knowing that it would be a discussion, a debate, over your hand but you’re still knocked off kilter by it being laid out so plainly. It makes it all too real and you can almost feel the thorns of the crown he had given you pressing into your head. “We can simply… have an understanding.”

Erren nods in agreement, rapping his knuckles against the wooden table. “My son has much to offer your daughter. He will become Master of Arms at Brightwater Keep when the current one retires and then inherit the traditional apartments for that position for the two of them to live in. The two of them will be able to travel and he will bestow countless crowns upon her. He’s already named her Queen of Love and Beauty here for the joust and I have no doubt he’ll be able to recreate his success with the melee and win her another crown. This is only the beginning of the honors for Lady Lannister.”

Honor, not honors.

For a moment, you can feel your mother’s presence as if she’s physically next to you and you suddenly miss her with such a force that it knocks the breath out of you. Your mother should be here, staring down the Florents with more ferocity than your father ever could. You could only imagine her face at hearing someone promise the daughter of a Westerling honors.

Honor, not honors. You can hear her voice say, as hard and unyielding as the very mountain that Casterly Rock was carved into. My daughter does not need to be crowned by your boy to be worthy of being a Queen of Love and Beauty.

Victor leans across the table, staring at you beseechingly, and you gaze back, eyes colder than they had been before. He doesn’t notice, too blinded by his own yearning, and you marvel at how someone so dense could prove such a skilled fighter. “Aside from that, I offer you my love. I’d cherish you, my lady, from now until the end of our days. If you were to marry me, I would dedicate my life to you and to any children you would bear me. Brightwater Keep is also not far from Horn Hill, my lady. Only a three day ride. You could visit your sister whenever you wished. Raise our children at her side.”

You bite your tongue, wishing you could spit back his offers in his face.

I have a sister here in King’s Landing and you’d have me abandon her to the snakes and rats of this awful city.

In lieu of responding, you blankly nod, your face calm and expressionless, before you look over at your father, deferring the topic.

Jason, to his credit, does not seem thrown by the proposal. He’s frowning slightly, as if deep in thought, before he slowly shakes his head. “Regretfully, my lords, I will have to decline your offer,” he says, sounding genuinely upset to be saying it. “I couldn’t part with my daughter, not yet, and I’m sure my brother will agree with me. Perhaps after Cerelle and Tyshara find their husbands, I could reconsider but for right now, she will remain as she is.”

Victor’s eyes go wide as if he hadn’t been expecting the rejection, but Erren nods slowly, expression calm. “Understandable,” Lord Florent replies smoothly. “All we ask is that you keep my son in mind when considering her future options. She is a treasure amongst women - do not let her be squandered on men who would not appreciate her. Victor can offer her something that other noblemen cannot.”

It’s a testament to your willpower that you don’t snort in response. Instead, you smile. “I thank you for your kind words, my lord, and am regretful that this meeting was not more productive for us all. I trust my father will ensure that whoever I will marry in the future will treat me with the respect I deserve as both a lady and a Lannister.”

Erren watches you sternly, his pale eyes cold as he considers you. On a certain level, you almost respect the tenacity with which he’s approaching his son’s marriage. Victor is his fourth son and his house’s legacy has long since been secured. You’re not sure whether it’s solely for Victor’s benefit or whether or not he cares more about his house’s power but either way, there’s no doubt in your mind that Erren Florent will do what he needs to secure your hand.

You have little hope that you’ve managed to charm Lord Florent - unlike his son, he’s well aware of your disdain for the proposed match - but you doubt you needed charm to make him realize what a boon a marriage with you would be for his house. You’re a Lannister, one of five daughters to be sure, but a Lannister is still a Lannister. Your dowry would be a windfall for even a major house, let alone the Florents who land somewhere solidly in the middle of the social ranking.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes steady and calm, and the annoyance that flickers on Erren’s face when you do not quail under his stare almost brings a smile to your lips.

The tea after is a dreadful affair. You mostly sit quietly the entire time as Jason and Tyland discuss with Erren how the current royal wedding compares with the ones prior. No one is expecting you to participate and a part of you wonders if your father and uncle chose this topic to spare you from having to play nice for longer than necessary. You twiddle with the ends of your sleeves, wishing you could just leave. There is no reason for your presence - the betrothal had been denied and would be denied for the foreseeable future - but etiquette demands you stay and you long to just go, away from this tea and away from the Florents.

You wish you were at the tourney grounds already. At least there, you could breathe again though you doubt you could relax. As much confidence as you have in Aemond’s skills, you’re not oblivious to the danger he’s facing. The melee is always more brutal than the joust, more prone to maimings and deaths. Even at the tourney for Loren’s birth, five knights had been grievously injured and three more had died. Even now, you can still perfectly remember sitting by Cerelle’s side, clinging to her hand as you had watched a knight drive his armored fist into another man’s face, punching over and over until all that remained was a bloody pulp, completely unrecognizable as a person. If you think hard enough, you can remember the way your ears had rang for hours after as the screams of excitement from the crowd echoed in your memories.

Jousting was dangerous but it was impersonal. Knights wore helmets, their faces hidden behind a steel visor. They lifted it at times to speak but when the actual jousting happened, all they could see of their opponents was a faceless helmet. Melees were far from that. Most men wore helmets, yes, but they could hardly wear the visors in one on one combat. In some cases, they took it off completely in order to have the biggest range of vision. In those battles, their opponent had a face. Their bloodlust had a target.

The matches were meant to last until the fifth strike or until one of the opponents yielded but it hardly ever went that way. With the screams of the crowd in their ears, driving them to go further and further, most fighters went until their opponent was incapacitated and most fighters refused to stop until injury forced their hand. It was the bloodiest event by far and of course, it had to be the one that Aemond was entering.

As a prince, he should be safe. It’s hard to imagine any knight risking retaliation from the Hightowers if he harmed the son of the king in a match. But then again, the whole realm knew that Viserys did not care about any of his children from Alicent. He had yet to make an appearance at any of the wedding events and you somehow doubted he would. If someone were to harm Aemond, Viserys would not rise to his defense. He hadn’t in the past and he wouldn’t in the future and that made Aemond vulnerable.

Biting your lip, you tune back into the conversation, willing for it to go faster so you can leave for the tourney grounds to at least try and see Aemond before the event begins. The gods, predictably, scold you for this and, when Victor raises to his feet and looks at you expectantly, you wonder which of the Seven is punishing you for your impatience.

Likely the Mother, you think, wishing you could scowl openly.

“I have to take my leave and head to the grounds to prepare myself for the melee,” Victor declares, eyes never leaving yours. “If possible, I’d like my lady to accompany me.”

Jason nearly chokes on his wine but Tyland is quick to the draw. “My apologies, Ser Victor, but I’m afraid we’ll have to be the ones to take her to the grounds. Lady Lannister, that is, my good sister, has sent her daughter a letter that she wanted a prompt reply on.”

You don’t visibly react but internally, you’re baffled. Yesterday, a letter had arrived from your mother and it had been a normal one - she had filled you in on Loren’s growth and had inquired about how the wedding proceedings were going.

They’re just giving me an out you reason but your stomach still twists at the idea that something has happened that your mother thinks you need to know right away.

Victor nods. “Understandable. Could I then accompany her to the Lannister apartments?”

Jason rises to his feet, already nodding. “If she accepts, I cannot see why not?”

All eyes swing to you then and you feel a flash of annoyance at being put on the spot even as you offer Victor an apologetic smile, standing up to your full height. “I would hardly wish to pull you away from the tourney grounds, Ser. I know how important your preparations must be. I’d hardly want to be in the way. Perhaps it’d be best to speak after?”

He immediately shakes his head. “No, no, you wouldn’t be in the way at all, my lady. It’d be an honor.”

Erren laughs loudly, patting his son firmly on the shoulder. “It’d be good luck, I imagine. All the good knights in the songs get to be with their lady before winning a great victory.”

This isn’t a song and I am not his lady.

Taking a deep breath, you nod your consent, ignoring the look your father and uncle share. “In that case, I can hardly refuse. I imagine Ser Victor will need all the luck he can get for the melee.”

Victor smiles as he nearly trips over himself to reach your side but Erren Florent watches you, eyes cold and piercing. You give him nothing, however, simply tilting your head in acknowledgment with a smile.

Farewells said, your group begins the walk through the gardens back to the Lannister apartment and, when Victor offers you his arm, you take it without hesitation.

“I’d like to offer my apologies, my lord,” you say after a moment, keeping your eyes on the path ahead. In the more populated areas of the gardens, people watch you and Victor walk with interest, their whispering tones fading into the background.

Victor starts as if he hadn’t realized you would speak, before promptly shaking his head. “What for, my lady? You’ve done nothing of offense.”

“I’m afraid you never did get that dance,” you reply, tearing your eyes away from the path to look up at him. He’s smiling and you feel that familiar, creeping rage wash over you.

“There will be other dances,” he says.

You smile, tilting your head. “Perhaps. You did dance with someone though, that night that you asked me. Lady Jocasta, my cousin.”

Victor nods, a flicker of nervousness flashing on his face. “I did, yes. She’s a very kind lady.”

Your smile grows. “She is, isn’t she? A sweet girl. Nothing at all like a Lannister ought to be. Of course, she’s a Lannister of Lannisport. It’s alright if she’s easily led. She’s afforded that grace. If she was a Lannister of the Rock, things would be very different for her.”

“Easily led?” Victor asks and you turn away from him, facing the gardens once again. Adjusting your grip, you encircle his arm with one of your hands, nails pointed downwards into his flesh.

“Yes, my lord,” you reply. “She’s easily led. Easily frightened. She’s as much a lion as I am but she’s never had a need to use her claws.”

“And you have?” Victor asks, voice rumbling.

You squeeze tight in response, hardly enough to do damage, but Victor stumbles slightly nonetheless. “When I’m provoked,” your voice is light and breezy. If someone heard you, they’d think you were flirting. “Luckily, I’m not easily provoked. Nor am I easily frightened.” You turn your gaze back to Victor and his eyes flash in recognition.

“My lady…” he starts, a hint of desperation entering his voice, but you shake your head, smiling, as you lean in and pat his arm, releasing your tight hold. “I… I only told your cousin what I’ve seen.”

“Oh? What you’ve seen?” You ask, raising a brow. “Shall I tell you what I’ve seen? I was there when they were treating Prince Aemond after the attack. I saw the mark that was left on him, and I watched as the maester attempted to sew it back together. I still remember when I spoke and he tried to follow my voice. I remember seeing a socket without an eye try to find me. Even now, if I close my eyes, I can recall every single detail. You’ve participated in several tourneys, Ser. Doubtless, you’ve seen awful wounds, injuries I couldn’t even imagine, but it’s awfully different seeing it on a child when you’re a child yourself.”

Victor doesn’t answer for a moment, staring down at you. Finally, he speaks. “You must have been scared.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you? I wasn’t scared, however. I was angry. I’ve never felt that much anger in my life, that much helpless rage with nowhere to direct it. Well… recent events not included,” you say, laughing slightly. The sun feels warm around you. It is a beautiful day.

“You’re a lady. A proper lady,” Victor begins, a note of begging entering his voice. You watch, smiling. “I’ve seen you with Princess Helaena, with the servants and the other ladies in the court. You’re a kind and beautiful and gentle lady. I mean it with no disrespect to Prince Aemond but he frightens the ladies in the court, even with the eyepatch. He’s handsome enough, I will give him that, but he’s fierce and stern and it scares every lady he meets. Y-You’re different from them but… you’re a lady nonetheless. You’re much too polite to warn him away - not when you serve his sister.”

You hum in acknowledgment, gesturing for him to go on, and Victor nods, a glimmer of relief entering his eyes.

“I… I know I’m far from the only man to ever notice you. Every man in the court would have to be blind to not recognize you and your beauty. Any man who notices you, however, is always scared off by Prince Aemond. He abuses his power at court to have any titles they’ve earned for themselves taken away. He approached me at the welcoming feast and said if I bothered any more Lannisters with my dreams, I’d be quickly reminded of my position.”

You can’t help it. You laugh and Victor genuinely flinches, dropping your arm. He stares at you as if he’s never seen you before and you smile wide, baring your teeth in a grin. “And have you been? Reminded?”

He doesn’t reply, simply staring at you, searching for something you’re sure he’ll not find in your eyes, and you shake your head ruefully. “You will be soon, I pray. Either a dragon teaches you or a lion will and I’m not too sure which one you would prefer.” You step close, tilting your head as you look up at him. Victor stares back, pale eyes wide and stunned. “You lied to the court with that handkerchief, Ser.” You murmur softly. “You lied about me. You placed a crown on the head of someone who does not belong to you. There is a price to pay for all of that. I hope you can afford it.”

With that, you bow your head as you drop into a curtsey before stepping away, continuing down the path towards the Lannister apartments. Victor stays, frozen like a statue in the gardens, but your father and uncle pick up their pace to walk by your side.

“You scared him something fierce,” Jason says after a moment, and, when you look up at your father, he’s watching you with a strange look in his eye.

After a moment, you recognize it. Pride.

The last time he looked at you like that was when you had agreed to go to the capitol to find a princely husband and you almost trip in your shock, heart beating fast.

“She’s a Lannister, Jason,” Tyland laughs. “Moreover she’s a lioness raised amongst dragons in a pit filled with liars and frauds. I’d dare say only someone like Prince Aemond could be fierce enough to claim her.”

Jason hums, offering you his arm, and you take it, feeling the glow of accomplishment wash over you. “Speaking of claiming… I did receive a raven this morning though not from your mother. It seems that we’ve lost a lion but gained a wolf. Cerelle has married Cregan Stark.”

You miss a step, stumbling slightly, but your father’s hold keeps you upright and you stare at him in shock.

Cerelle. Cerelle. Cerelle.

If it wasn’t for Aemond and the tourney, Helaena and the wedding, you don’t think there would be a single force on the planet that could stop you from racing towards Winterfell, towards your sister. You had always imagined being there for her wedding and, though you knew what would happen when you had pushed to send her North, you still feel a sense of loss wash over you.

Cerelle isn’t a Lannister anymore you realize with a shock and a knot forms in your throat, the glow of success leaving you and leaving only a cold sense of reality behind. She’s a Stark now.

Pushing it down, you finally nod your head. “So it worked.”

Tyland sighs. “Partially. Her letter only mentioned that they’ve been married and she’s working on amassing a small Lannister force and securing Northern allies. She was free to leave Winterfell as Lord Regent Bennard did not know of the marriage and, as Lady Stark now, she can gather Lord Cregan’s bannerman for him. Within the next few weeks, they will topple Lord Regent Bennard, peacefully or with force, and reclaim Winterfell for its trueborn line.”

“Do you think the marriage will leak?” You ask, mind whirring with possibilities. If it did and Bennard thought to retaliate, Cerelle’s blood ties to the Westerlands would keep her safe. If any harm came to her, your father would call his banners and go to war. Her marriage with Cregan would guarantee that the North did the same.

Tyland hums. “I imagine it already has. Bennard cannot move against Cregan himself. He would become a kinslayer and would forfeit all rights to Winterfell with it. He could have used Cerelle to force Cregan’s hand but she’s already slipped his grasp. I imagine most of the North knows by now that Cregan Stark has taken a Lannister bride. Soon, the rest of the realm will know.”

“Which means you must be careful now, sweetling,” Jason warns and you look back to your father. His green eyes are watching you carefully. “The tea with the Florents would have been a waste if it did not prove to us that tell of Tyshara and Lord Tarly has leaked. Soon, the court will know that Cerelle has married hastily - without us there. That will bring her virtue into question. There’s naught that can be done about it now, not with a marriage already in place, but the gossip will begin.”

“If Cerelle has been married so quickly and Tyshara and her Lord Tarly are already rumored to have a wedding all but planned, people will begin to wonder about you and your prince. If he has taken the same liberties with you that they will think your sisters have taken with their men,” Tyland continues, voice low to not be overheard. “The court has already seen the high regard in which he holds you in.”

Your mouth drops open as you look at the two of them, feeling your cheeks blaze even as you recognize the truth of what they are saying.

“We cannot afford for you to fall under suspicion,” Jason says, voice firm. “One hastily married daughter is a mistake. Two is a tragedy. But three? That is an insult. That is a failure within House Lannister. A marriage would afford you protection but Jeyne and Joy would suffer the brunt of the gossip. Their marriage chances would be shot. I’d be begging a minor lord to give them a household knight at that point. Do you understand? You already have the attention of all of King’s Landing but after this, you will have their scrutiny as well.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine. I came here for Jeyne and Joy, to get the power to give them the marriages they deserve. If not me, who?

After a moment, you nod, thinking of your little sisters as you agree.

——————————–

The instant you step into the tent, you feel yourself relax if only a little bit. Here in the tent, you’re safe, away from the Florents and the court. It’s only people you trust and who trust you in return. No one is watching you to see if you falter, to see if you fail, and for that alone, you allow yourself a moment’s respite.

At first, no one notices your entrance, too caught up with one another. Aemond is in the corner of the tent, clearly fighting the urge to roll his eyes, as Alicent and Criston crowd him, both of them spouting off advice that you’re not entirely sure is helpful. Daeron is next to them, ignoring them all completely as he bows his head over his brother’s breastplate, polishing it with such a fervor that you’re sure that as soon as he’s done, the black steel will gleam as a mirror. Aegon, predictably, is drinking, looking vaguely amused as he watches his family run around like chickens with their heads cut off.

Helaena spots you first, playing with her bug toy as normal, and, when she calls out your name, everyone stops and swivels to stare at you standing at the entrance.

More out of instinct than anything else, you drop into a curtsey, bending low in an apology. When you rise, however, everyone is still staring at you and, suddenly feeling shy and awkward, you shift awkwardly.

Perhaps I should have just headed to the royal box instead.

You don’t get the chance to linger on that thought, however, since Helaena promptly approaches you, stopping right before you, a hair’s length away.

“A dragon’s treasure,” she announces, loud and clear in the quiet of the tent, and, though her eyes are blank and empty, it doesn’t feel like a prophecy. Your cheeks burn and you duck your head, feeling oddly embarrassed and called out.

After a moment, you look back up, finding your control. “I-uh… Is everything going well, Helaena? Or should I find a way to sabotage the melee?”

Helaena smiles hesitantly, coming back into herself, and blinking fast as if to speed up the process. “I think everything is going fine,” she says after a moment. “Though I think Mother would be comforted if you could somehow secure, without a doubt, that Aemond will emerge from this unhurt.”

“If I could, I would have done so already,” you reply wryly, laughing slightly. She nods, somewhat solemnly. She knows you well enough to know that if you could somehow fix this without harming Aemond’s pride, you would have done it by now and granted yourself and the rest of his family some peace of mind. As it is, you halfway wish you could have poisoned Victor and all the other opponents Aemond will have to face if just to end the matches before they could ever begin.

He’s a mighty warrior, you remind yourself, digging your nails into your palms. Ser Criston Cole trained him and there’s no living knight stronger than him. Aemond will be fine. He has to be.

As much as you repeat that fact to yourself, you still can’t find it in yourself to fully relax. Your brain is constantly catastrophizing, filling your mind with terrible images of Aemond lying on the ground, bloody and broken. For a moment, you almost wish you could beg him to back out, to leave things as they are. A crown from the wrong man is a momentary embarrassment. A dead man is something you can’t fix.

“Things will be fine,” Aegon insists as if he can read your mind. On his chaise, with his chalice in hand, he looks like the carefree noble the smallfolk love to scorn and you feel a flash of resentment. Even in your annoyance, however, you can tell that it’s a wholly unfair assessment since even you can see the tightness around his eyes, the way his grip is strong on his wine. “Everyone is worrying more than Aemond is. He’ll come out of this a better man or whatever it is the singers say.”

Alicent makes a small noise, torn between scolding her eldest or fussing over her middle son. “We’re free to worry, Aegon. This is the first time any of us have participated in a tourney.”

Daeron clears his throat, peering up from the armor with big purple eyes. “Uncle Gwayne is always participating in tourneys,” he unhelpfully reminds, shrinking back slightly as his mother shoots him a look. “B-but he’s always fine and even he would admit Aemond is the better swordsman.”

“That’s different,” Alicent replies, somewhat mutinous. Even from your spot, you can see her grip tighten on Aemond’s arm, her voice growing thick with worry. “I did not think I would have to worry about tourneys for quite some time. Before now, you were my only son interested in competitions.”

Aemond huffs, finally reaching his limits with his family’s antics. “If everyone could find some peace, I would much appreciate it. Your worry will hardly help me.”

“It might remind you to be cautious,” you say, your words forcing themselves out of your mouth. Aemond’s eye swings to you, narrowed, but you refuse to back down, determined to say your piece. “I’ve heard tell of what happens in the arena. Bloodlust takes over. The crowd’s urging becomes demands. Perhaps… Perhaps if we worry enough, you’ll remember that yielding can be just honorable as winning. Ser Harrold Westerling has yielded in melees before and he’s Lord Commander.”

Bringing up your uncle may not be the best move, not with another member of Kingsguard here to serve more readily as an example, but you barrel forward. There is honor in knowing when you’re down for the count.

Of course, judging by the look in Aemond’s eye, he knows you’re not as honest as you’re putting yourself forth to be. You don’t know when to quit and Aemond certainly does not know either. If someone were to corner him into surrendering, he knew as well as you did that you would rise up in revenge.

Not now and not soon.

“She’s not wrong, my prince,” Criston says, voice steady. Aemond swings to stare down the Kingsguard but the knight does not show even a hint of wavering. If anything, he looks exasperated. “For your mother’s sake, I implore you to be aware of the consequences of not yielding.”

“And perhaps,” Aemond grumbles, his eye flashing in warning. “I’m also aware of the consequences of not winning. If I am forced to yield, I am forced to yield. But I will not enter the grounds already believing I must.”

Alicent nods. “Of course,” she agrees, more out of placating her son than truly believing in what she’s saying. “Of course, Aemond, I just… I worry. You know I do.”

Something in Aemond’s face flickers and he softens slightly, hand coming up to grip his mother’s arm in a show of comfort. “I know, mother. I would not do anything that would bring you undue harm.”

The Queen looks up at her son and, though you can’t see her face from here, you can only imagine the look on her face. You wonder if it is anything like it had been on Driftmark, when she had first realized she was helpless to protect her children.

He was a boy then, you want to tell her. And even then it took four others to beat him down. He’ll be safe. He’ll be fine.

Instead, you keep quiet and, after a moment, she nods her head, slow and shaky. “May the Warrior grant you strength and guide your arm.” She lingers for a moment, holding onto her son for a second longer, before she finally lets go, sweeping out of the tent with Criston right behind.

There’s a moment of silence, where all of you wonder what to say next, when Aegon lets out a loud sigh, throwing his head against the back of the chaise. “I never thought Aemond would cause mother’s next nervous breakdown. I really would have put money down on me or even Daeron.”

Daeron looks back up from his work, quick to rise to his brother’s defense. “She’s just worried but she has faith in him. She’s always bragging in her letters about how well he can fight.”

Aegon frowns, sipping from his chalice as he rises to his feet. He’s never been good at hiding his emotions and you would have to be blind not to see the jealousy flash across his face. It disappears fast enough as he forces a grin. “Sure, sure. Never meant to imply otherwise.”

He walks over to Aemond, slapping his brother hard on the shoulder. Aemond doesn’t even shift, simply looking down at his older brother with annoyance and disdain. “Make sure to win, little brother. I’ve got a good bit of coin riding on these results.”

“I thank you for your confidence,” Aemond responds, his voice coldly courteous.

Aegon’s grin turns real, more teasing. “Of course. You’ll win this tourney, crown our shining lady of Lannister Queen of Love and Beauty once more, and then, at the end of this, I’ll have a nice pot of gold to use to bet on the next time some other Victor Florent makes the ill-thought-out decision of chasing after Lady Lannister.”

You roll your eyes. “Save your coins and buy yourself more wine instead. I doubt there’ll be many, if any, others after this. It’s hardly worth all this scandal.”

Helaena giggles, soft and sweet. “Perhaps there will be others. You could be the face that launches a thousand tourneys.”

You scoff, even as Aegon expresses his confusion at the name. He turns to Aemond but his brother merely nods his head over you, clearly passing the buck, and Aegon looks at you, plainly expecting an answer. Even Daeron looks up from his work and you sigh.

“There’s a story in the Westerlands of an Ironborn king who stole away a Lannister queen because she was so beautiful.” You explain, fighting to keep your face stern even as Helaena laughs cheerfully, plainly delighted by your reluctance to clarify her joke. “It led to a gruesome war that lasted ten long years. At the end of it, she was returned to her husband though her return was paid for by countless lives. Her name is lost now, if she ever did exist, but she’s known as the face that launched a thousand ships.”

“I’d ask you not to start a thousand tourneys,” Aemond says, his lip curling in amusement when you shoot him a look. “Mother is already having a hard enough time with just one.”

“That would pad my coffers nicely,” Aegon muses, squeezing his brother’s shoulder before he lets go. “Get that stamina up, would you? Seems you might have quite a few fights ahead of you and I aim to make a killing.”

“At some point,” Daeron cuts in, rising to his feet, finally finished with his work. “It would be easier to have Vhagar fight your battles. I’m sure she’d enjoy the exercise.”

Helaena hums. “I don’t think the singers would like that - not nearly as romantic.”

“Sounds like a miserable song,” you grumble, finally breaking into a grin when Helaena bumps you with her shoulder, beaming at you. Aegon meanders back to the chaise, grabbing slices of bread from a table as he does so, and you watch with interest as Daeron then descends on Aemond, scurrying around him as he fits his older brother with a suit of armor.

It’s relatively plain armor - not at all like some other ostentatious suits of armor you have seen at tourneys past. Thanks to Daeron’s efforts, it’s a nearly impossibly shiny black, so polished that it reflects the light perfectly. On the chest, the three-headed dragon of the Targaryen sigil is embossed into the steel, an unnecessary reminder that the wearer of the armor was of royal blood.

It’s simple armor.

Yet you can’t drag your eyes away from him.

You’ve never seen Aemond in armor before - last night had been the first time you had ever even seen him fight as a grown man - and the sight of it does something to you. Low in your belly, you feel a hot ache, and the heat, for the first time in your life, causes you to shift awkwardly, searching for a moment’s relief. It doesn’t come, however - it won’t come, not if you’re just standing here staring.

For half a breath, you indulge yourself in a fantasy of ordering everyone out, of convincing Aemond to leave the melee and giving yourself to him completely in return. You don’t even know what that means, what it entails, but you want him to show you.

The fantasy leaves you quickly enough and you burn with shame at your own indecency even if the heat only gets worse.

Pointedly, you look away from Aemond, turning towards Helaena and pulling her into a conversation about beetles, trying to pull away as far as you can from the sight of Aemond in his armor. The princess eagerly complies and soon your mind is whirring with her long-winded speech about the Braavosi beetles her grandfather had imported in as a wedding gift to her and how she’s trying to adjust them to the much more humid environment of King’s Landing.

It works. For a time.

Then Daeron announces he’s finished and has to run to help Lord Ormund like he’s supposed to be doing and Aegon trails behind him and you’re left alone with Helaena and Aemond.

And then Helaena, beautiful, blessed, mischievous Helaena grins at you and ducks towards the entrance of the tent, staying inside to save you from the public consequences of knowingly being alone in a tent with a man who is entering a melee in response to another man’s suit for you but giving you enough space that you’re functionally alone with Aemond. You look over at him in time to watch him buckle his sheath around his slim waist, his silky hair falling like a curtain around his bowed head.

The heat flares back to life and you could swear if it wasn’t so embarrassing.

You sigh, playing with your sleeves to give you something to do to try and expel your energy. “How worried was your family last night?”

“I tried my best not to find out,” he replies, his uncovered eye gleaming with mirth as he watches you squirm in place. “I made sure to stay out late training to avoid any confrontation.”

“You got rest though, right?” You ask, stepping closer, your earlier embarrassment leaving you in favor of scolding him. “Training is helpful and all but if you didn’t get any rest, you’ll suffer for it on the field.”

He smirks at you, his amusement clear, and you bristle slightly, approaching him to stand in front of him with a scowl. “If it brings you any comfort, it wasn’t that late since everyone was still up so they could… offer me advice.”

“Dare I ask what the advice was?”

“Daeron was the only one with actual helpful things to contribute,” he says, leaning against a table. “My mother and Helaena, less so, and Aegon? His advice had nothing to do with the tourney.”

You cock your head in question. “And what was his advice for?”

“I’m afraid I can’t repeat his words to an unmarried maiden who isn’t, at the current moment, betrothed to me without breaking several rules of etiquette. Your father would want my head and my mother would be inclined to give it to him,” he replies, voice low and rumbling, and your cheeks flare in embarrassment.

“She wouldn’t,” you manage out after a moment. “At least, not right now. Right now, she’s rather concerned with keeping your head on your shoulders.”

Aemond watches you before letting out a small laugh, shaking his head. He reaches out for you, his armored hand catching on the sleeves of your dress as they wrap around your own hand. The cold metal is a relief against your warm skin and you step closer, squeezing his hand in return. “How was the tea?” He asks eventually, teasing gone from his voice.

You sigh, glancing down at your feet. “Tedious. They made a serious offer for my hand but my father rejected it on the grounds that my older sisters aren’t married yet. I doubt the Florents will ask again unless Victor decides against his better judgment - though I’m not sure he has any - to crown me again today. We… We have just found out, however, that Cerelle has married Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell. She’s Lady Stark now.”

“Trade negotiations went that well, did they?” He asks and you look up to meet his knowing gaze. He knows full well that it wasn’t trade that sent Cerelle Lannister (Stark you harshly remind yourself) up into the frigid North and he knows that you regret not being able to be there for her wedding, even if he does not know that it was your plan and your scheme that sent her there to begin with.

“Exceedingly,” you respond eventually, forcing yourself to sound more enthusiastic. You know by the downturn of his lips that you fail but you move forward past the hurt, forcing a smile. “I don’t have any advice to offer you for your matches except, perhaps, an observation. I can’t see that Victor Florent will be at his best today. He might be easy to rile if you’re lucky enough to face him today. If you wish to rattle him, mention finding his place or maybe even how Lord Tarly was able to claim a Lannister daughter while he can’t.”

He tilts his head, a slow sly smile coming to his face as he takes in your words. “And I imagine you had something to do with him being that sensitive?”

You shrug, your own smile becoming genuine. “Your battle with him will be on the grounds. Mine was this morning. I tried to help as best as I could.”

“I could almost pity the man if he weren’t such a craven liar,” Aemond responds, humor evident in his tone. “Your own bite is probably worse than most injuries he could face on the field today.”

“Most?” You ask.

“Most,” he echoes. “As fierce as you can be with your tongue, there are still quite a few things that could happen to him on the field that may prove to be worse.”

You throw your head back, laughing gleefully. Your amusement, however, is short-lived since even inside the canvas walls of the tent, you can hear a horn blow, announcing that the melee is set to start soon. It brings you crashing back into reality, back into the truth that Aemond will be risking his life today in order to answer an insult done to you. It’s sobering and you take a deep breath as you pull back slightly.

Before you can say anything, however, Aemond brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto the knuckles, and you realize with a start that this must have been what all the songs were talking about when they mentioned a lady sending her knight off into battle.

You wonder if the ladies in all those stories found it as bittersweet as you did.

“May the Warrior guide and protect you,” you murmur and he only nods in response.

——————————–

You enter the royal box arm in arm with Helaena, an astonishingly sober Aegon leading the way. The court all turns to stare openly at you and, in the crowd, you can see Tyland nodding at you, seated next to Lords Beesbury and Wylde. You don’t nod back, however, keeping your head held high as you and the Targaryen siblings walk towards the seats you had sat in only the day before.

Like yesterday, a head of white hair awaits you. This time, however, it belongs to Baela Targaryen who watches your approach with interest. You glance over at Helaena but she merely shrugs in response.

When you reach your seats, Aegon drops in his without so much as a hello, eyes trained onto the grounds ahead, leaving you and Helaena to greet her. At first, you wonder if Princess Rhaenys has ordered her to sit up front in order to forge a relationship with her kin but, when you sit and she leans towards you, you realize that this seating could only have been her idea.

“You’re all they’ve been talking about, you know,” Baela says in lieu of a true greeting, jerking her head backward to indicate the rest of the court. Your eyes flicker over to glance back and even now, you can see some Velaryon ladies whispering to each other as they watch you speaking to their cousin. “The dragon’s treasure from the Rock and the fox foolish enough to try and steal it.”

“Are they? I haven’t noticed,” you reply dryly and she laughs. “Did you sit here to see if the rumors were true?”

She shakes her head, still looking amused even as the knights begin to march out onto the field for the presentation. You look away from her, eyes immediately finding Aemond in the procession. He’s not in the first listing, thank the gods, but a weight begins to sit heavy on your shoulders.

Please, you pray, wishing you had made a stop at the sept to light a candle for the Warrior before you had come to the tourney grounds. Please keep him safe.

“I decided to sit here because I was curious. It’s been quite some time since a Targaryen has participated in a tourney - not since my father has it happened,” Baela finally answers and you tear your eyes away from Aemond to look over at her. Otto Hightower stands to do his customary speech but you keep your gaze on her. “I decided I wanted a better view. However this goes, I imagine there will be quite a few songs written about it. I figured I should get to see the action so I can describe it well to Rhaena when I write to her about it.”

“Did you now?” You drawl, curiosity driving you to poke at her and try to find her real reason for sitting by you. “Did the Princess Rhaenys ask you to get a better view as well?”

She tilts her head. “My grandmother wishes for me to know my kin. The Targaryen side at least. She was… pleased by my choice.”

You nod and not one second later, the horn blows for the first match to begin. You watch it with disinterest. It’s a Mullendore knight against a Connington and, even to your untrained eye, it’s clear neither of them has the skill necessary to last long in the tournament. Still, the Connington is, at least, faster on his feet, and soon enough, he has the Mullendore knight knocked on his back with a sword to his throat. The crowd jeers, bored by the bloodless match.

The next match, however, quickly proves satisfactory to them. Both knights are from houses so below your radar that even you, after years and years of studying all the noble houses in Westeros, struggle to identify them. For one of them, it turns out that you shouldn’t have even bothered. The taller and bulkier knight (Five black starfish - it’s House Ruthermont of the Vale) swings his mace and catches the other man by the jaw, sending him crashing to the ground in a spray of blood and teeth. The other man, lost in his own pain, scrambles upwards, clambering for his sword, having lost it in his fall, but the Ruthermont knight doesn’t give him the chance. With one final swing, he brings the mace down heavy on his opponent’s back and, with a sickening crack that you can hear even over the screaming and cheering, breaks the man nearly in two. The nameless knight doesn’t even get to scream before he dies; not with the way the mace is buried in his back, straight through his lungs and pinning him to the ground. Blood pours out of the wound, drowning the dirt around him, and the crowd roars its approval.

Next to you, Helaena lets out a whimper, recoiling backward in her seat, and, when you turn to face her, her eyes are screwed close. Gently, you grab her hand and she squeezes it so hard that you swear you won’t have one after.

“It’s alright, Helaena, it’s alright. It’s over now” you comfort and her eyes snap open to bore into yours.

She leans in close, her nose nearly brushing yours. This close, you can see how her pupils are blown out, the amethyst color so dark it’s almost cobalt even in the sunlight. “Shadows in the wall,” she insists, sounding near hysterical. “Shadows in the flame. There will be no choice. No choice at all.”

You stare back, stunned, but she blinks hard and it’s Helaena again. Scared and worried Helaena and she leans back in her seat, shaking her head as if to clear her mind. Next to her, even Aegon looks alarmed as he looks at his sister, and, with deft fingers, he pulls out her familiar bug toy from her pockets, offering it to her.

“To save Lady Lannister’s hand,” he says and Helaena barely manages a grateful smile as she drops your hand to grasp the toy, shaking slightly as she does so. You meet Aegon’s eyes and, after a moment of mutual understanding, he looks away, snapping his fingers for a servant to bring him wine.

You relax back in your chair, watching her for a moment as she loses herself in the toy, murmuring under her breath as she twists it in her hands over and over and over, the repetition soothing her.

The horn blows again and you look over at the grounds in time to see servants dragging the body away from the field just as Aemond steps out.

You freeze, heart in your throat, as you watch him ready himself, bouncing slightly in place as if to warm himself up. He’s chosen to fight without a helmet and, though you understand why he wouldn’t want to limit his field of vision any more than it already is, you find yourself praying he had worn one if only to calm your nerves.

You immediately recognize his opponent as Ser Raymond of House Marbrand and your mind races to remember everything you know about him. The nephew of the current Lord Marbrand. He used to visit Casterly Rock when his uncle had wanted him to get closer to Cerelle in hopes of securing a marriage. He has a bastard son living in the Crag. Your own father had knighted him for his service in suppressing Ironborn raids along the coast.

You try to remember if he’s skilled but your mind comes up horrifying blank.

The horn blows again and you squeeze your hands tight, nails digging into your flesh. Raymond does not waste any time, rushing Aemond immediately, but the Targaryen is quicker, spinning out of the way, his hair streaming through the air. He jabs out with his sword and lands a hit. The herald barely has time to announce it before he swings again, landing two more in quick succession.

Raymond lets out a grunt, more out of anger than any real pain, and feints toward Aemond’s blind spot before swinging his sword toward the prince’s knees. Aemond dodges but, in the moment right after, Raymond slices upwards, catching Aemond on the sleeve.

You bite your lip hard to prevent yourself from gasping or cursing, but behind you, you can hear the Queen murmur a prayer.

The gods must hear her since, angered by the hit, Aemond moves even faster and lands the additional three hits he needs to win. The herald announces the prince’s victory and you clap hard, your palms stinging, as you rise to your feet. Aegon whoops, screaming something about his money being safe, and even the Queen is cheering in her relief.

Aemond looks up at the box and nods his head and you can tell, even from here, that he’s pleased with the results. The crowd cheers him, satisfied by a match where the men actually landed blows unlike the first one, and you grin wide.

When you sit back down, the horn announcing the next competitors coming out onto the field, you look over at Baela. Her eyes are glued to the field watching Aemond’s retreat, analyzing.

“Has he met your standards?” You ask and she looks over at you, frowning slightly.

“He’s… Improved since we last met,” she says, reluctant to praise him.

You smile. “Prince Aemond has always been skilled. Even in his childhood, it took more than one assailant to ever do him much harm.”

Baela’s eyes narrow at the remark and she opens her mouth to shoot back a retort when the horn announces the beginning of the match, calling both of your attention. It’s Victor Florent vs a Blackwood knight and you roll your eyes when you spot the handkerchief still tied around his bicep.

During the actual fight, however, Victor seems almost vengeful in his maneuvers, moving fast and hitting hard. He slices the Blackwood knight behind the knees, sending the man toppling to the ground where he hastily yields. Victor looks up at the box and his expression is dark as he meets your gaze.

He wears no helmet - as if he wants you to see his face.

He’s angry, his expression twisted with wrath, and there’s no longer that glazed look in his eyes when he sees you. It’s sharp and fierce and angry and it’s all at you. It’s more than you not wearing a crown or your father turning down his suit. He’s angry because you rejected him, harshly and without even a hint of regret. He wears the handkerchief still, not to proclaim that he loves you but to proclaim that you will be his since it is his right to claim you.

You don’t frown down at him or scowl or even furrow your brow. You simply meet his gaze steadily, no emotion slipping onto your face because he’s not even worth that much.

Victor’s face twists again and he stalks off the grounds, clearing the way for the herald to announce the next match.

He’ll die today, you promise yourself. By my hand or Aemond’s, he will not live to see the morrow.

The matches go in a flash and you watch with mounting anticipation as Aemond readily defeats his opponents. He even beats Tygett and your cousin claps him on the shoulder afterward, laughing loudly, as friendly and pleasant as he always is.

Next to you, Baela seems wholly invested in the fights, nearly leaning out of her seat, and, when it becomes clear that the current match will end in a death that you’re not eager to watch, you turn towards her.

She doesn’t hear you when you first say her name and it’s only on the third time that she rips her eyes away from the battle, just as Edwyn Sand drives his lance through his opponent’s torso. “What?” She asks, irritable and snappish at being distracted, and, despite yourself, you smile.

“Do you wish you were on the field as well, my lady?” You ask, leaning slightly closer so she can hear you over the roar of the crowd.

Baela eyes you, her amethyst eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be using this to poke at her. “I do,” she finally says, having evidently weighed the dangers of telling you this and finding them lacking. “I imagine I could do a mite better than most of these men.”

“I have no doubt you could,” you readily agree, finding that you mean it. For better and for worse, she is Daemon Targaryen’s daughter through and through. She’s more cautious than the Rogue Prince ever was, more aware of her surroundings, but you can easily see her with a sword in her hand. “Have you trained with weaponry?”

“I did,” she says after a moment, her eyes slightly hazy as she frowns. “Back in Pentos. I… My father taught me. He said a dragonrider should know how to wield a sword.”

You nod, ignoring the crowd’s jeers behind you as a match ends bloodlessly. “Did you learn much under his tutelage? I imagine the Rogue Prince has much to teach his daughters.”

“Daughter,” Baela corrects, almost as if on instinct. “Daughter. I, uh… He only taught me. I’m the only dragonrider daughter he has. Rhaena has always been too sweet to wield a sword anyways. She’s always preferred dancing to anything else.”

Despite her immediate excuse for her father’s actions, you can see how her frown twists with anger and how she clenches her fists on her lap. She’s furious, you realize. Daemon Targaryen ignores her sister and she hates him for that insult more than she does for anything else.

Baela Targaryen is loyal, fiercely so, and her sister is the way to gain that loyalty for yourself.

“I see,” you say after a moment. “I think I would rather enjoy meeting your sister then. She seems like a kind lady and I’m afraid I’m not as skilled at dancing as I’d like to be. I’m sure she has much she can teach me.”

She looks you over, openly appraising you, and you simply bow your head before turning back to face the melee.

The battles drag on and on, knocking men out of the competition faster than you can even register, until you’re only three matches away from the finale and you realize, with a dull sense of surprise, that the finale will almost certainly be Aemond and Victor. You can’t see it going any other way and you start to pray to the Warrior and the Stranger, pleading with them to protect Aemond and take Victor in his place.

You don’t know if they hear you but you beg that they have.

The final matches go exactly as you had expected and when the herald announces the final matchup, the crowd grows nearly rapturous in their excitement. At your back, you can hear the court gossiping, swearing up and down that the singers of King’s Landing had to have had a hand in the matches for it to go this way in a manner that would most serve their purposes.

“Seems you won’t be able to stop those songs now,” Aegon drawls but you’re too caught up in staring down at the grounds in nervous anticipation to even register his words.

Aemond and Victor make their way onto the field and, if you had thought Victor was angry staring you down earlier, he’s absolutely incandescent now, glowering at Aemond as if he could light him on fire with only his eyes. For his part, Aemond only stares coldly back, his eye focused solely on Victor, ignoring the screams around him. His silver hair is dyed red in parts from the blood of earlier matches, some of it having streaked onto his face, and that, combined with his eyepatch and scar, makes Aemond’s indifference look almost as frightening as Victor’s rage.

The horn blows and, for a moment, both men stand still as they stare each other down.

Then they move.

The clash of their sword is swallowed by the crowd’s instant screams and you pitch forward, hands flying to grab the edge of your chair. You’re deaf to everything around you, solely focused on the fight in front of you.

The men are equally matched but Victor is stronger, bulkier. Each swing of his sword sends Aemond rocking back on his heels, teeth gritted as he fights to stay grounded. Victor is relentless, however, moving forward and forward, each move intent on driving Aemond back until he can have him pinned in a corner.

But as strong as Victor is, Aemond is as fast and, twisting his sword so he can knock Victor to the side, he frees himself from the path the knight had been intent on driving him on. He thrusts and catches Victor on the torso but no one can even hear the herald over the frenzy of the crowd.

What you can hear, however, is Victor’s roar of absolute rage. More beast than man, he advances on Aemond relentlessly, his swings growing impossibly stronger and stronger. Before you can even register what’s happening, a swipe from Victor drives Aemond to his knees and the Florent swings his sword heavily, aiming directly for Aemond’s neck.

You gasp, rising to your feet in an instant, distantly aware of the Queen’s scream behind you and Aegon and Helaena standing up as well, but Aemond is faster than all of you, reacting before any of you can finish what you’re doing. He ducks, saving his neck but earning a cut across the ear for it.

His blood drips onto the ground, joining all the rest that has been shed through the melee, and you find yourself wishing that Vhagar would rise from wherever she is and descend upon the grounds to cook Victor alive for daring to harm him. But she won’t come - not when her rider is doing well enough for his own.

Aemond rolls across the ground, dodging another desperate thrust, and stands up in one fluid motion. He keeps low to the ground, crouched with his sword up by his chest. His own blood covers the side of his face, staining his pale skin and dripping down onto his own armor. He only stays like that for a breath, before Victor dives forward with a roar.

But Victor Florent is sloppy in his rage, too caught up in his anger to think ahead.

Aemond, however, does not suffer the same problem.

Just as Victor reaches him, Aemond crouches even lower, leaving Victor’s sword sailing right above him. With a twist of his feet, he plants himself behind his opponent and, without a moment’s hesitation, drives his sword toward Victor’s neck.

There’s a moment when you think that Victor will avoid it. He twists his body around, arm flying out as if to stop the blade right in its track, but Aemond’s strength, while weaker than Victor’s, is nothing to scoff at. He impales the sword straight through Victor’s exposed wrist, between the gap between his gauntlet and the rest of his armor, driving it straight through all the way to Victor’s throat.

The two men stare each other down, Aemond breathing heavily as Victor struggles to even breathe. But then the knight stumbles down to his knees and, from your vantage point, you can see him struggle to say something, to gurgle out one final remark, but he can’t, not with Aemond’s sword keeping the words trapped behind it. In the next second, Victor falls flat to the ground, slipping off the sword and landing heavily on his side, twitching as he does so but soon enough, he stops, his eyes going cold and empty.

There’s quiet on the grounds as Victor Florent breathes his last.

But soon it erupts.

The roar of the crowd shakes the very ground beneath you and you yourself cheer, screaming out your relief, your delight, your joy. Next to you, even Baela is clapping and Helaena is smiling even as she covers her ears with her hands. Aegon is absolutely frothing at the mouth, spilling his wine all over himself as he raises his fist in the air in victory

Aemond looks dazed by it, moving away from Victor’s body while staring up at the stands as if he can’t quite believe that the cheers around are all for him, and you laugh, delighted.

Yes! You want to scream down at him. It’s you, it’s all for you!

You dimly register Otto Hightower approaching the railing, raising his hands as if to try to silence the crowd and you manage to reel yourself in, still clapping to the point that you’re sure your hands will hurt tomorrow. Out on the field, Daeron runs out to his brother, carrying a pillow with a crown of golden roses on it and you laugh out loud, imagining all the other squires Daeron must have fought for the honor of being the one to hand out the prize.

“My deepest congratulations to Prince Aemond Targaryen for defeating all of his opponents and winning the melee event,” Otto proclaims, barely audible over the stare exuberant crowd. “Alongside the pot of gold, you have won a crown to give out. Who shall you crown your Queen of Love and Beauty?

Even in a crowd of thousands, even with the sun in his eyes, Aemond looks up into the royal box and you know he sees you, you as you truly are, and your heart could nearly burst with it all.

“I crowd my Lady Lannister, the Lioness of the Red Keep,” he announces, voice clear even over the impossibly loud cheers.

The crowd screams out its approval and you almost don’t hear them, too preoccupied with staring down at Aemond, your heart beating loud in your chest.

He’s claimed you, in front of the royal court and all of King’s Landing. He’s claimed you.

You didn’t know it was possible to feel this much love toward one person.

With a none-too-gentle push from Baela, you finally move, dimly aware of Helaena reaching out to brush her hand against yours and Aegon laughing with more glee than you’ve seen him have in years. When you look over at the crowd, even the Queen is standing on her feet, clapping for you with a small smile on her face, her eyes guarded even as she congratulates you.

Her son has proved that he is a dragon once, that his way is one of fire and blood, and Alicent’s worries about dragon blood have all come true.

All thoughts of Alicent, however, leave your mind as you look past her to your Uncle Tyland and he’s grinning so wide and clapping so hard that, for a moment, you want to break away from walking down to the grounds just to hug your uncle. He’s happy for you, so genuinely happy, and your heart swells.

But you need to reach Aemond and, moving quickly, you reach the tourney grounds, walking out onto the field to the screams of the crowd.

His hands are bloody, you realize, as you walk towards him. His face is smeared with blood, some of it his but most of it not, but his hands are absolutely covered in it and it stains the golden flowers in his hands.

Red and gold, you realize with a shock. The Lannister colors as they’re meant to be seen.

You break out into a grin, so wide it almost hurts, and as you stop right in front of him, you drop into the lowest curtsey of your life. You sweep the ground, head bowed low, and, just like in the songs, Aemond places the crown on your head and the cheers of the crowd reach a crescendo. As you rise to your feet, Aemond grabs your chin, forcing your head up so you can meet his eye.

His gaze is hot and, as he stares down at you, you realize that’d be wrong to describe him as satisfied. He’s far from it. His blood is up and, high on the battles he has won, he wants to continue his rush. He wants you and not in any way that remotely resembles chastity. He wants you and, if he could get away with it, he’d claim you here in front of the whole of King’s Landing. He wants the world to know that you’re his and his only. Any man that would attempt to pull you away from him would meet the same fate as Victor Florent and choke on his own blood as the realm cheered around them.

He’s close to it - even you with all your inexperience can tell. His grip is firm on your chin and, from the look in his eye, you can tell he’s not far from kissing you hard in front of the world. For a moment, you entertain letting him do it. For a moment, you entertain pushing yourself up onto your tiptoes and doing it yourself.

But your father’s voice is loud in your head.

You already have the attention of all of King’s Landing but after this, you will have their scrutiny as well.

So instead, you bow your head, closing your eyes as you reach up to grip Aemond’s wrist. There’s time yet for all you want to do.

Still - the kiss he presses onto your forehead feels like a triumph nonetheless.

[rainwingmarvel7]

👑 for Tristian Dormaire and/or Nadya Dormaire?

Thanks so much for the ask! You know I had to do both😉

Tristan Dormaire Targaryen

Tristan could feel the eyes of every observer on him as he approached the Iron Throne. It was a strange feeling, one he supposed he would have to get used to now that he would be king.

It still amazed him that he had been chosen to succeed Aegon. Most would argue that a bastard, even a legitimized one, could not rule. But in the wake of the Dance, everything had changed. The people of Westeros needed a leader, and the only other heirs were no more than children. The Small Council had named him the obvious choice. Although he did not want it, he knew that they were right.

Standing at the base of the throne alongside the High Septon was what remained of his family. Baela, now his wife. Lord Corlys, his Hand. His father and his children, Aemon and Elaena. His young brothers, Aegon and Viserys. His cousin, Jaehaera. His heart ached at the thought of those missing but wished to have with him. There were far too many.

As he reached the throne, Baela intercepted him, intertwining her hand with his own for the briefest of moments, her expression one of reassurance. They were in this together, after all. She would be his queen.

Tristan gave her a grateful smile, then turned to face the High Septon. He knelt down before the wizened old man, who held his crown, made of gold and studded with gemstones of red and black, in his hands.

Tristan met the man’s gaze, then bowed his head. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest and thundering in his ears. His breath felt tight in his throat.

He felt the sudden weight of the crown being set upon his head, as heavy on his brow as the burden of the Realm he now felt.

“All hail King Tristan of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!”

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers as Tristan stood once more. Once Baela had been crowned with him, he finally took his seat on the throne. The metal was cool against his fingertips as he curled his hands around the arms of it.

It was a strange and powerful feeling. He wondered if this was how his mother felt. He hoped that she would have been proud of him now, following in her footsteps to rule.

Nadya Dormaire

(Since this actually happens in ATRF I’m omitting some things because spoilers)

“Jon Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Tyrion’s voice rang out across the throne room, and his declaration was met with thunderous applause from the gathered crowd. Nadya beamed with pride as she watched her husband, a silver direwolf crown now adorning his head. He caught her gaze and smiled back at her.

Everything that they had been through had led to this moment. All of the pain and suffering that they had endured was for this.

Now Tyrion turned towards Nadya. He held out his hands toward Sam, who passed him her own crown of blades and ravens. She knelt down before him, the gray fabric of her gown spilling out at her feet. It was a bit hard given her growing belly, but she had dealt with it more than once before. Somehow, she managed it with grace.

With great care, Tyrion placed the crown on her head. It fit comfortably on her brow, as if it had always meant to be there.

“The Queen Consort, Nadya Dormaire,” he announced. As she rose to her feet to stand beside Jon, he continued. “Behold, your new King and Queen.”

The crowd continued to cheer and applaud as Jon ascended the steps to take the throne, no longer made of the swords of the conquered but by that of the lords and ladies now sworn to them. He took his seat, and Nadya moved to stand beside him.

This was their place now, and it was their duty to serve the Realm which was now theirs. Just as Helaena had told her, all those years ago.

[furious-haste-of-malice]

AN: Received this as a request on main, decided to post it here to be safe. Please heed the warnings!

dark romance prompts

♡ prompt: disobedience & impact play (spicy bingo) | Melkor x Mairon x Maedhros ♡ synopsis: Melkor and Mairon teach their new favourite prisoner a lesson in obedience ♡ warnings: non-consensual oral sex, non-consensual impact play (whip) ♡ short oneshot (~800 words)

Due to this being Maedhros' POV, the two dark lords will be referred to by their alternate names.

When he had been captured, Maitimo had braced himself to face the horrors of Angband; yet nothing could have ever prepared him for the scene he witnessed now.

And would soon be made to participate in. 

He had found out two things about the dark lord: That he was rather fond of red hair and that his lieutenant – whose chosen fána happened to share that trait – was also his lover. 

Maitimo had been mildly disgusted upon being forced to witness noisy, messy kissing and lewd touching on the throne, as if they were inside a brothel and not a fortress, but it had swiftly escalated to outright horror when Morgoth suggested that he should join them. 

"What do you mean?" Maitimo asked as calmly and slowly as he could. 

"What do you think it could possibly mean?" Sauron snapped and yanked on his chain to force him to come closer. 

It was obvious that his lord's interest in their latest prisoner irritated him, though Maitimo could take no pleasure in it, faced with a wolfish grin on the Enemy's face that sent all primal instincts into overdrive, screaming at him to run.

If only he could. 

"Show him," Morgoth ordered, addressing Sauron. "He can service me after you are done, and if he pleases me we can consider being more lenient with him." 

"As you wish." 

Leaving his lord's side to kneel between his legs, the Maia got to work. Maitimo could only watch with growing trepidation as garments were undone and pushed aside to reveal a swiftly hardening cock. Even as it vanished between dutifully parted lips, the sheer size and girth were obvious to any unlucky spectator – not too surprising, considering that he was looking at a Vala, yet the implications of what had been suggested by the very same creature were all too clear. 

Maitimo would be expected to perform such an act himself; and as if that in itself wasn't revolting already, he also doubted his physical capabilities. He had done such a thing before, admittedly, but it had been with his beloved Findekáno – no, he didn't even want to think about him now. 

They shan't sully the memory. 

"Enough." Morgoth's command brought both him and Sauron back to reality. "It seems our new toy is bored and wants to try it for himself." 

The Maia withdrew, making a show out of his reluctance. 

"I shall make sure he does his best," he said and summoned a fiery whip while rising to his feet and positioning himself behind their prisoner. 

Maitimo trembled in disgust when he was inexorably pulled closer until he too knelt between Morgoth's legs and found himself face to face with a large, hard and glistening wet cock. 

"Go on, Maitimo. Be good for me," the Vala purred.

"And if you are not, there will be dire consequences," Sauron hissed from outside his field of vision. 

His words were accentuated by a well-aimed strike hitting Maitimo's back, eliciting a gasp before he could stop himself, and Morgoth took the opportunity to thrust inside his mouth and force his head down with one hand. 

"Do not play coy with me. I know what you and your cousin did." 

No, no, no. 

How could fate be so cruel? How could he have fallen into the hands of the Enemy to be used like a common whore and have his deepest secret so nonchalantly revealed? 

Maitimo's inaction prompted more whiplashes, yet he was much preoccupied with the struggle of not throwing up all over Morgoth's lap – a tempting prospect not just due to the unwelcome intrusion of his throat, but also a transgression he didn't want to face the consequences for. Struggling, he forced himself to focus on relaxing and breathing through his nose. His jaw was already beginning to hurt from the rough handling he received, and it only got worse when the Vala resumed moving, fucking his throat without any tenderness or affection. 

Again, he refused to think of Findekáno. 

Being used this way absolved Maitimo of the humiliating task of actively pleasuring the Enemy, yet enduring such violation was made harder by the fiery whip biting into his skin time and time again. He was no longer even sure what he was being punished for; maybe Sauron simply felt like he deserved to suffer for taking his place. 

Had anyone asked him, he would have loved to swap. 

Maitimo wanted nothing more than to vomit when hot, viscous liquid at last flooded his mouth and throat, making him gag around the huge cock in his mouth even more. 

"Swallow." 

Another whiplash. Morgoth held him down until he had done so, then gave a long, self-satisfied sigh. 

"What do you think, precious? Does he deserve our leniency?" 

"He remains defiant and disobedient, as is ingrained within his family. I think he requires more training before he may be granted any sort of mercy..." 

Thanks for reading!

[mahlersgirl]

more on princess mizu itoh hcs (a part 2 of this)(this accidentally became a small fic as I got invested) (tagging @roninzuzu bc who else shall feed on the dynamic between these two)

as mizu becomes a young woman there are talks of her being married off, but there's the obvious question of what noble house would accept a wife with eyes of an onryo

takayoshi is genuinely worried about his cousin and writes to her about it

her short and angry answer was "worry about your own wedding, I'll be nobody's wife"

it's around this time she runs away from home and takayoshi is sure he had something to do with it and blames himself for mizu being somewhere out there doing god knows what

and for this mizu I think it would be a lot like how akemi ran away to help taigen, except mizu is seeking revenge against the white men and doesn't want to use the itoh family's resources (lots of resentment for being treated like a monster)

it wouldn't be easy at all and she involves herself in lots of trouble that makes her realize that living as a princess, even a neglected one, is still skies above what a commoner samurai would have to go through (again this is akemi arc but add violence)

eventually she would cross paths with mikio (🤮) and maybe he would take her under his wing and care for her after she's severely wounded? it will also evolve into the romance we're acquainted with

now, after the telltale moment in which mikio calls her a monster for handing his ass on a plate during sparring, instead of the bounty hunters being sent to kill her, I can see it being the _itoh family soldiers_ sent to retrieve their princess who had eloped with some good for nothing farmer it seems

not only that, takayoshi is there with them, having missed his sister for a whole year and just relieved he found her again

"how did you find me?" she hissed with slitted eyes full of ire, knife secured in hand ready to decimate his whole troop if he dared to touch her. maybe she would even make him bald for his petulence

takayoshi blinked in astonishment

"you wrote to me, mizu" he said reaching back to get the scroll, his familiar stutter making her feel nostalgic, but not less mad. "you asked me to take you back and bring gold to you and your husband."

and mizu suddenly understands, as mikio materializes by her side, looking unaffected by the number of armed soldiers on his property. she was made into a fool. when mikio looked bewildered she would trade a life of luxuries for revenge, he was in fact envious of her position.

the man mizu loved was a fucking bastard.

he was also the one who first met her blade, to the shock of everyone watching her, a bride covered in the blood of her own husband. she looks at the closest soldier next, looking ready to attack, but takayoshi was faster:

"do not raise your blades at her!" he yelled out his authority, the trembling of his voice diminishing with the loudness. "mizu, let's go home... I'll intercede with my mother on your behalf. we can forget this ever happened."

"takayoshi, in respect of our friendship and the only familial bonds I ever respected," mizu said finally raising her eyes at him, blue meeting brown, the color of the sea and the summer sky who meant a childhood of laughs and promises. "forget I ever existed. this is not your battle to fight. I was never a real part of the itoh family and you know it well. leave me alone and spare me the sin of spilling your blood."

and takayoshi understands, unfortunately, that this was never about both of them being different. mizu was always the one who was hurt the most by her origins and he could never truly know what she went through. he was still the second son of a powerful house and no stuttering or insecurity could take that away from him.

at times, to love someone also meant to let them go. mizu had chosen a path in which he was nothing more than a nuisance. the least he could do was let her be.

he makes his men retreat, but not after putting down the treasure of gold and jewelries he had brought because of the message. he didn't know if she would use any of it, but he wouldn't, either.

"the winter palace will be open." he says before stepping into the carriage. "if not as a cousin, a brother or a friend, perhaps you can still reach me out as an acquaintance. I would enjoy having tea with you once again."

she didn't offer him another word of farewell as his caravan disappeared in the hills and she was bathed by the rain, too mentally exhausted by a reaction. no husband or family, she was fated to be a lonely monster, in the end.

only revenge could keep her satisfied.