#thr royal heir

[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page

Chapter 15 

_Bridge of Dreams_ 

Choices, The Royal Romance, The Royal Heir AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist, My Complete Masterlist 

Main pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who both belong to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M 🔞 - Warnings – Series will have crude language, weapons, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors.

Bridge of Dreams

Chapter 15 

Chapter Summary: Liam and Riley revisit the Pont des Arts, ‘Lovelock Bridge” in Paris, France. Olivia begins a relationship with Damien Nazario. William enjoys his first camping trip with Uncles Drake and Maxwell & Bartie

Music Inspiration: I Won’t Give Up, Jason Mraz 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. (Series cross-over with ‘Perfect Match’) 

Santorini, Greece 

Rubbing away the fog off the bathroom mirror after his hot shower, Damien Nazario could now see his reflection to shave. After waking from a rejuvenating sleep, his plans included enjoying the white sand beaches that were here in Santorini and maybe some sightseeing on the island. He was afforded a couple of free days of relaxation to enjoy the beaches of Santorini by King Liam before he was to return to his duties of guarding the young crown prince in Cordonia. 

...and he was determined to enjoy this free time. Damien finished shaving and splashed water on his face. He felt refreshed and energized, ready to take on the day. 

He grabbed a towel and dried his face. Then, he headed into the bedroom to get dressed. 

 Damien padded slowly into the bedroom of her hotel suite and grinned. 

He had every intention of enjoying his time with his fiery red-haired companion, whom he shared a bed with after the wedding festivities ended. 

After Olivia invited him to extend the celebration in her hotel room -- which he accepted without hesitation -- they spent the night in each other's arms, exploring their desires. It had been a while since he had been with a woman, and even longer since he had been with a woman like Duchess Olivia. She was confident, intelligent, and beautiful. And she knew how to please a man. 

Ever since the first day they were introduced, he found himself drawn to her and intrigued by her personality. 

Damien had to admit, the redhead was very sexy, and it wasn't just her appearance. It was also the way she carried herself and the way she spoke. Her confidence of knowing exactly what she wanted and was not afraid to go after it. 

The way she spoke so eloquently and with such passion was very arousing. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was interested in; her intellect apparent. 

He was intrigued by her confidence and her ability to be assertive. Most women would shy away from taking charge, but not Olivia. She was bold and unafraid to express her feelings. He found that to be incredibly attractive and erotic. 

Damien smiled, biting his top lip as he thought about the previous night and all the things they did. They had made love until the early hours of the morning leaving them both exhausted but satisfied. 

Olivia was already up and dressed, sitting on the bed. She was wearing a pale coral sundress that complimented her skin tone, and her red hair was pulled back into a loose chignon. 

"Good morning," Damien said as he approached her. 

"Good morning," Olivia replied coyly, a smile playing on her lips. 

Damien leaned down and kissed her, his hand cupping her cheek. He couldn't resist pulling her close, inhaling her sweet scent. 

"I was wondering if you would like to join me on the beach today," Damien suggested, his fingers brushing a stray hair away from her face. 

"Actually, I was planning on returning to Cordonia today." 

"Why so soon?" Damien asked, slightly disappointed. 

"I have important business to attend to." 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Everything's fine," Olivia reassured him, placing her hand on his chest. "I just need to get back to work." 

"Of course," Damien nodded. "But you still have the day free before your flight". 

"True," Olivia agreed. "I suppose we could spend a few more hours together." 

"Excellent," Damien smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. "Would you like to have breakfast first?" 

"Actually, I have a better idea," Olivia said, her voice low and seductive. 

"What do you have in mind?" 

Olivia smirked, her green eyes darkening with desire. "Why don't you come back to bed?" 

"Now that sounds like a perfect plan." 

Damien's mouth curved into a grin as he gently pushed her back and joined her back in bed. 

As she looked out the 18th floor window, Riley could see the Seine River winding its way through the city. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

The Suite Impériale at the Ritz, Paris, France 

This is it. 

Riley knew that she would have to relive the bittersweet memories from the engagement tour. It would be hard, but she knew that it would also be cathartic. She needed this. 

She needed to let go of the past. 

She turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a flowing, white sundress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her hair was falling softly onto her shoulders, and her makeup was simple and elegant. 

She was ready. 

She slipped on a pair of white sandals and made her way down to the lobby. Liam was meeting her at their spot once he finished his meeting with the French president and he should be there momentarily. 

When Riley stepped outside, the sun was shining, and the sky was a brilliant blue. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air, trying to calm her jitters. 

As Riley made her way along the Seine, she could not help but think about the last time she was here. 

It was a day she would never forget. 

The day she and Liam placed that small gold lock on the bridge. 

It was the day they declared their love for each other and sealed it with a kiss. 

Riley sighed, remembering how happy she was that day. How hopeful. 

She had been so naïve. 

Tariq was never found and the scandal lived on. Liam would abide by his duty and marry Madeleine, making her his queen. 

As Riley rounded the corner, she could see the bridge coming into view. 

Her heart started to race, and her palms became sweaty. She felt her tears travel down her cheeks. 

She was nervous. 

She didn't know what to expect or why Liam was so insistent on revisiting this exact spot. 

Riley reached the bridge and stopped. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. 

She was ready. 

The memories came flooding back. 

'You spot Liam leaning against a stone railing overlooking the Seine. His expression is clouded, but when he hears you approach, he breaks into a smile. 

"Riley!"' 

"Liam. You are a sight for sore eyes." 

Liam chuckles. "That's my line." 

He pushes himself off the railing and takes a few steps forward, closing the distance. 

'"I wasn't sure you'd come."'

He wraps you in a tight embrace, resting his head against your shoulder. You feel his chest heave with a sigh.  

"After the bachelor party, I found Maxwell and he filled me in on your ... mission earlier." 

To think that Bastien helped set you up ..." 

Liam nods. "It's ... shocking, yes, but ... I think it might have been a blessing in disguise." 

"How so?" 

Liam pulls away and smiles. "If we hadn't been interrupted, I may not have had the opportunity to spend the evening with you. And as much as I love spending time with my friends, being with you was ... a much-needed escape." 

"I wasn't sure if we should risk coming here. If the person behind this is so powerful that Bastien is afraid of them ..., are we really safe? I don't know how deeply this goes or who we can trust. All I know is that I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. The only way to keep you safe might be for us to leave. Permanently." 

Liam smiled sadly, I remember asking you, saying, 

"We could ... we could go anywhere. Anywhere in the world. Where do you want to go?" 

"You're joking, right? We can't leave Cordonia." 

"No, we can. We'll just go somewhere no one will ever find us. We can live in peace and happiness together." 

"We could have a family. We could be happy." 

"Liam ... no. No matter how tempting that sounds ...  

"You can't abandon Cordonia." 

His shoulders slump. "I know that. But if you asked me to, I would. In an instant." 

"I could never ask you that. Your people need an honest King now more than ever. And the Liam I know would never leave them behind. 

Liam tenderly takes your hands in his. 

"We will get through this, Riley. We have to. I refuse to believe otherwise." 

He lifts one of your hands and kisses the back of it, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"We'll find a way. Together." 

Liam pulls you close and kisses you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. 

After a moment, he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. 

"I promise." 

"I won't give up on you, or us." 

"Nor will I." 

"Thank you, Riley for not letting my fears get the better of me." 

Liam steps back and holds out his arm to you. 

"Now, shall we continue our walk? 

"I'd love that, Liam." 

The two of you start walking down the bridge, hand-in-hand. 

"You know, Riley, there's one good thing about this whole Tariq situation." 

"And what's that?" 

"It's made me realize how lucky I am to have someone like you by my side. You're strong, kind, compassionate, and so much more. I love you, and I'm so grateful that you're a part of my life." 

Liam gives you a small smile. 

"Thank you, Liam." 

"For what?" 

"For always knowing the right thing to say." 

"Well, I try," Liam says with a smirk. 

"I know it's hard. But no matter what happens, at least we'll face it together." 

At this, Riley gets very emotional, thinking that by leaving him when she found out she was pregnant, she betrayed him. 

Riley was lost in thought as she walked, the sun beating down on her shoulders. It had been a long journey, and she was still processing everything that had happened. 

She thought about her decision to leave, and how it had affected Liam. 

She thought about William, and how she faced the challenge of being a single parent. 

The guilt was overwhelming. 

She knew she had made the right decision at the time, but she couldn't help but regret the pain she had caused Liam. 

She had left without a word, without a trace. 

And while she was certain that the time away had been necessary, she couldn't help but feel like she had let him down. 

Joining Liam at the railing they both gaze across the river. The streets around them are practically empty, though many lights still glitter on the water. 

It's so quiet. It feels almost like a dream. Like they're the only ones in the city. 

Liam puts his arm around Riley's shoulders and pulls her close. 

"Love, you look ... you look like you are miles away from here.

Penny tor your thoughts?"

"Liam. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course ... anything, Riley."

Taking a shaky breath, speaking in a very small voice,

"After you married Madeleine, did ... did you ever grow feelings for her? When I left?"

Liam took a deep breath and sighed. He knew Riley wanted him to; needed him to be truthful.

"Madeleine and I, well, we grew fond of one another. As friends; but, nothing more."

A tear slipped down Riley's cheek, but Liam quickly rubbed it away.

"Our arrangement was that we would marry, have children, and rule Cordonia together. However, as time went on, I ... we both realized that we were never going to love each other. We would be nothing more than friends." 

Nodding her head, her eyes were locked onto the floor. She was trying to hold herself together.

"Madeleine did try, at first, to seduce me. She was quite insistent on producing an heir, but I couldn't bring myself to bed her. Cordonia be damned." 

Liam placed his hands on Riley's cheeks, cradling her head as she cried.

"I knew that, as long as you were out there, somewhere, I would always be yours. I couldn't move on." 

"I'm so, so sorry," she said. "I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling guilty for what happened." 

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't your fault. It was my choice. I had a responsibility to Cordonia, and I had a duty to the Crown. I knew what I was getting into when I married Madeleine." 

"You didn't have a choice," she whispered. 

"Neither did you," he replied. 

Riley sighed, her eyes filled with tears, looking up to the sky. 

"The night when William was born ... I was so happy. But you weren't mine. you belonged to someone else. It killed me ... that I ran and took your son away."

"Riley," Liam said softly, taking her hand. 

Riley pursed her lips, and began...

"Riley," he said tenderly, cupping her cheek. 

"Liam, when William was born, I was ecstatic. But then, when I held him for the first time, and he looked up at me ... I couldn't help but think that you should have been there, too. That he should have had his father with him, on the day he was born. And I just couldn't stop thinking about how I had left you behind, and that it was all my fault." 

"Riley," he said again, pulling her into his arms. "You were the one who was abandoned, Riley. Not me. I understand why you did what you did. It wasn't your fault." 

"Liam ..." 

"Riley, I know how difficult it was for you. How painful. But I am so glad that you found the strength to return to me, and with our son. You are a wonderful mother, and I can't imagine my life without you and William in it."

"I love you, Liam,"her lip quivering. 

"And I love you, Riley," he replied. "More Than you will ever know."

"Always," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"Always, my love." 

The two of them stood there, watching the sun set over the water, holding each other close. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"  Liam turned to kiss Riley's forehead.

"Yes. It is." 

Liam looks down and smiled. "I have a surprise for you." 

Leading Riley further along the bridge she sees a wicker basket sitting on the paving stones. Liam pulls a small blanket from the basket and spreads it out. As she settled down on the blanket, Liam pulled a bottle of champagne from the basket, followed by two flutes, a loaf of crisp bread, and several rounds of cheese. 

Riley smiled. "Wow, Liam. This is quite the spread. And very familiar." 

Liam deftly pops the cork and pours two glasses of champagne. He hands one to Riley, and then raises his own. 

"To you, Riley. The most unforgettable woman I've ever met." 

"To you, Liam. Meeting you changed my life. But out of all the places I've been and the things I've done since then, the best part has been getting to know you." 

"That's more of a toast than I deserve, Riley, but, thank you." 

Clinking glasss they each take a sip. There is a faint hint of mint and lemon to the cool, bubbly drink. 

"Liam, how long have you been planning this?"

"A few days." 

Riley sips her champagne. The sweet and bubbly alcohol is warming. 

"How did you manage to sneak a whole picnic out here without anyone seeing you?" 

Liam chuckles. "A king can do many things." 

"Like bribe the French palace staff?" 

Liam laughs. "Perhaps. But no, I was simply able to utilize my authority. And I can assure you, no one will disturb us. This bridge is closed to traffic." 

Riley looked up at him, incredulous. "How did you manage that?" 

"With great difficulty." Liam winks mischievously. 

She raised her eyebrows. 

"I have connections," Liam says with a smirk. 

"So, you pulled some strings, and now we have a private bridge all to ourselves?" 

"Indeed." Liam responds sheepishly.

Riley took another sip of champagne. "I must say, this is quite impressive." 

"I thought it would be nice to have a moment alone together, away from prying eyes and listening ears."

"I'm glad you did."  Riley giggled.

"Good," Liam says, pouring more champagne into her glass. 

"So, what do we have here?" 

"Well, we have champagne, of course," Liam says, motioning to the bottle. "And then we have some delicious cheese, courtesy of France. And a fresh baguette, still warm from the bakery." 

"This is amazing, Liam. Thank you." 

"It's my pleasure, Riley." 

Once the food is gone and the blanket and glasses are put away, Liam takes the basket under one arm and offers you the other.  

"I believe tradition requires that we continue our evening with a stroll, my lady." 

As Liam and Riley walked along the Seine, more and more locks could be seen hooked through the railing.

As she looked down at the locks, Riley couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in her heart. 

They were symbols of love and hope and somewhere in the sea of locks, Riley knew their lock was still locked in place. She bent down to take a closer look.

A reminder her of a time she had tried so hard to forget. 

...Remember When... 

"Thank you, Riley. With so little permanence in this world, there will always be this little lock on this bridge just for the two of us. I want to believe it will be here forever, no matter what else happens to us." 

Riley's eyes filled with tears with this memory from years ago.   

"Riley, my love..." 

Wiping her tears she stood and turned ...and gasped --as she watched Liam drop down onto one knee before her. 

"Liam?" 

"Riley, you are my heart and soul. You're the reason I wake up every morning. You're the reason I smile. I cannot imagine a life without you by my side. You've stood beside me through the hardest moments of my life, and you've never once wavered. You've given me the strength to face my fears, and you've shown me that true love can conquer anything. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you." 

He opened his hand, and she saw a small, black velvet box sitting on his palm. 

"Liam ..." 

With steady hands, he opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond engagement ring. 

"Riley Louise, will you marry me?" 

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Yes! ... A thousand times, yes!" 

"Really?" 

"Of course," she tearfully replied. 

Liam beamed as he slid the ring onto her finger. 

"I love you, Riley." 

"I love you too, Liam." 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she leaned forward, kissing him passionately. 

She was his. 

Forever. 

As they kissed, her heart was bursting with joy. 

This was the happiest moment of her life. 

They stood on the bridge for what felt like hours, locked in each other's arms. 

"So, we're really going to do this, huh?"  Liam looked intentedly at Riley, trying to stop his smile.

"What, get married?"  Riley giggled.

"Yeah," he said. "It seems crazy, but I've never been surer of anything."  Liam started to kiss down the side of her neck, pausing to gently nip her skin.

"Ohhhhh .... me neither."  Riley moaned as he squeezed her ass pulling her flush against him.

"Let's get out of here," he growled, leading Riley back to the hotel.

Fontainebleau cliff (outside Paris)

At Maxwell’s request, William, along with his nephew Bartie was joining Drake for a camping trip outside of the city...on the condition that Bastien would be included...at Liam's insistence.

"This is going to be great," Maxwell said. "I can't wait for a boys' night." 

After a few hours of driving, and a long hike later ... Maxwell, Drake, William, Bartie and Bastien arrive at a cliff overlooking the lake. 

Maxwell sets his backpack down. "All right, guys. Let's make camp." 

"I thought you said we were going camping," Bartie says. 

"This is camping," Maxwell replies. 

"No, this is a cliff. There are no trees or tents or anything." 

"We're in the middle of nature. What more do you need?" 

"Um, a place to sleep?"  Bartie replies dryly.

"I got that covered," Drake says, pulling a bundle of canvas from his backpack. He unfolds the fabric, revealing a large tent. 

"You brought a tent?" Maxwell asks. 

"Of course. What did you think we were going to do, sleep under the stars?" 

"Well, yeah."  Maxwell answered.

Drake shook his head, thinking it was a good idea to teach these nobles a thing of two about camping.

"No way. That's how you get eaten by bears." 

William looked up at Bastien, questioningly. 

"Don't worry, William," Bastien says. "I have an excellent track record for keeping the royal family safe from bears." 

"Okay, everyone. Let's get this tent set up," Drake rolled his eyes knowing he had to take the lead. 

With the tent secured, the group thrn gathered wood to start a fire. 

"Now, we can finally start having fun," Maxwell says. 

"First things, first... who is hungry?" 

William and Bartie look up at Drake.

"We are," they reply in unison. 

"Who wants s'mores?" Drake grins. 

"Yum," William exclaims. 

"I don't know what that is, but I'm in," Bartie adds. 

"S'mores are a camping classic. They're made with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. I guess your father hasn't taken you camping yet?" Drake shakes his head at Bartie.

"Ha, too funny!" Maxwell laughs. "Drake is an expert on s'mores." 

"What do you mean?" William asks. 

"Well," Maxwell begins. "S'mores are the only food that your uncle Drake can make. So, when we go camping, we have a lot of them." 

"That's not true," Drake scoffs. "I can cook other things, too. Like, hot dogs. And hamburgers." 

"You heat those things up. That doesn't count," Maxwell argues. 

"Okay, fine. But I can make a mean cup of coffee over the fire." 

"That's true," Maxwell admits. "But you still can't cook anything else." 

"Whatever," Drake says, rolling his eyes. 

The group laughs as they begin to roast their marshmallows over the crackling fire. 

Thank you for reading, tags are in the comments. Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from tags.

@choicesficwriterscreations

[uselessgay10101]

Rereading trh and-..

Hana grew up so much since trr omg

[only-one-brain-cell]

Zahra catching Henry in Alex’s room is a cinematic masterpiece.

[novaursa]

Bonsoir

my English is not very good sorry 🥹

I’m obsessed with Sir Gwayne Hightower..

Can we imagine something like reader is the younger sister of Rheanyra and she fell in love with him during the tournament.

The king Viserys love his daughter so much that he accept her demand. They lived in Oldtown where they raised Daeron, and they also have children maybe 5/6?

Later they came back to King’s Landing and it’s their child’s who got attack the night (idk if one died like you want) and both of them goes furious agains Rheanyra and Alicent.

A House Divided

- Summary: During a tourney your father organized for the birth of his heir, your heart found a flame in Ser Gwayne Hightower.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. The requests are now closed!

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

The grand tourney was in full swing, the air mingling with the scent of churned earth and sweat, and the clamor of metal clashing against metal reverberated through the stands. You sat in the royal box, perched between your elder sister, Rhaenyra, and her closest companion, Alicent Hightower. The three of you made a striking tableau, clad in the rich velvets and silks befitting your station, your hair arranged in intricate braids that sparkled with delicate gems. The sun beat down mercilessly on the field below, casting a golden hue over the proceedings as knights in gleaming armor paraded before you.

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her attention rapt, as one of the knights she had favored rode out onto the field. "Ser Harwin Strong," she whispered, more to herself than to you. "They say he could fell a dozen men in single combat."

You barely heard her, your gaze fixed on the next rider in line. He wore the silver and green of House Hightower, his helm adorned with the familiar sigil of the fiery beacon. Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s brother, guided his horse with practiced ease, his posture straight and noble, as befitting the son of the Hand of the King. But it wasn’t just his prowess on the field that caught your attention. No, it was the way his eyes, even from beneath the shadow of his helm, seemed to seek yours.

You felt a flutter in your chest, a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer sun. Your heart skipped a beat when his gaze locked with yours, lingering for a moment too long to be mere coincidence. His expression, though partially obscured by the helm, betrayed something—an unspoken acknowledgment, a silent exchange that sent a shiver down your spine. You offered him a small, shy smile, one that you hoped would convey the burgeoning emotions that you could barely understand yourself.

Beside you, Alicent noticed the exchange. She turned her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "He is quite skilled, isn’t he?" she remarked casually, though the hint of amusement in her tone did not escape your notice.

"Yes," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice even. "He is."

Alicent’s lips curled into a knowing smile, but she said nothing more, her attention shifting back to the tournament as the next knight prepared to ride. But your thoughts remained on Gwayne, your mind replaying the moment over and over again.

The peace of the moment was shattered when a thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd. A new rider had entered the lists, one who commanded immediate attention. The black stallion he rode was as imposing as the man himself, its powerful muscles rippling beneath the dark coat as it trotted confidently onto the field. The helm he wore was unmistakable, the dragon sigil of House Targaryen gleaming in the sunlight. Your uncle, Daemon, the Rogue Prince.

A tension gripped the air, as palpable as the steel of the swords being brandished on the field. Daemon was not merely a competitor; he was a force unto himself, and his mere presence sent ripples of unease through the crowd. You knew well enough of the strained relationship between him and the Hand, and you could feel a foreboding sense of what was to come.

Your heart lurched as Daemon’s gaze swept the field, his eyes narrowing with calculated malice. He was looking for an opponent, someone whose defeat would send a clear message to the court. And then, with a wicked smile, he made his choice.

"Ser Gwayne Hightower!" the herald announced, his voice carrying over the din of the crowd. 

The smile you had shared with Gwayne moments ago felt like a distant memory, replaced now with an overwhelming sense of dread. You watched in horror as Daemon spurred his horse forward, his eyes gleaming with cruel intent. Gwayne had no choice but to accept the challenge; to refuse would be to invite dishonor upon his house.

Alicent gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "He’s doing this to spite my father," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He means to humiliate us."

Rhaenyra’s expression darkened as she glanced between you and the field. "Daemon is always looking for ways to make his mark," she said, her voice edged with frustration. "But this…"

Your hands tightened around the arms of your seat, knuckles turning white as you watched the two knights prepare to charge. The tension was almost unbearable, your fear for Gwayne warring with the knowledge that there was nothing you could do. He was skilled, yes, but Daemon was ruthless, and the outcome of this bout felt all too predictable.

The sound of hooves pounding against the earth filled your ears as the two men charged at each other, lances poised to strike. The crowd held its breath, the world seeming to slow as the distance between the riders closed in an instant.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. You didn’t want to look, but you couldn’t bear to look away either. The moment of impact was sudden, brutal. Daemon’s lance struck true, sending Gwayne crashing to the ground in a blur of motion. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of cheers and gasps, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears.

Alicent’s hand found yours, squeezing it tightly, and you realized she was trembling just as much as you were. Rhaenyra leaned closer, her voice a whisper meant to comfort. "He’ll be all right," she said, though even she didn’t sound entirely convinced. "Ser Gwayne is strong. He’ll rise again."

But as you looked down at the field, where Gwayne lay motionless in the dirt, your heart was filled with fear and uncertainty. The triumph on Daemon’s face as he rode past only deepened your dread. You knew that this was just the beginning of a dangerous game, one in which the stakes were far too high.

And though you wanted nothing more than to rush to Gwayne’s side, to ensure that he was truly all right, you could only sit there, helpless, as the tourney continued around you, your thoughts consumed by the image of his fall and the lingering touch of his gaze upon yours.

The corridors of the Red Keep were quiet, the bustle of the day having given way to the stillness of the evening. You walked with purposeful steps, though each one felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the thoughts swirling in your mind. The events of the tourney still haunted you, particularly the moment when Ser Gwayne Hightower had been unseated by your uncle Daemon in such a brutal manner. The memory of Gwayne lying motionless on the ground was seared into your memory, and you had spent every waking moment since then worrying about his well-being.

You had learned earlier that day from Alicent that Gwayne was recovering in a guest chamber within the Keep, his wounds being tended to by the maesters. The relief that had washed over you upon hearing he was alive had been swiftly replaced by an overwhelming need to see him, to ensure with your own eyes that he was truly all right.

But more than that, you felt a deep sense of guilt. Gwayne had suffered because of your uncle’s vendetta, and though you knew Daemon was not your responsibility, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to apologize on his behalf. It was as if your worry for Gwayne had ignited a flame of something more within you, something you hadn’t fully understood until now.

You approached the door to Gwayne’s chamber, hesitating only briefly before knocking lightly. The sound echoed softly in the empty hall, and you held your breath as you waited for a response. A few moments passed, and then you heard the shuffling of feet from within. The door creaked open, revealing Gwayne’s face—pale but still handsome, his hair slightly disheveled, and his usually bright eyes dulled with pain. When he saw you standing there, surprise flickered across his features, quickly replaced by something warmer.

“Princess Y/N,” he greeted, his voice soft but filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “I did not expect a visit from you.”

“I… I wanted to see how you were faring,” you replied, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, stepping back to allow you entrance. “Forgive the state of the room. I’ve not been the best company, I’m afraid.”

The chamber was modest, yet comfortable. The bed in which Gwayne had been resting was neatly made, though the pillows were slightly askew, evidence of his struggle to find a comfortable position. A small table beside the bed held a pitcher of water, a few books, and some bandages that had been used by the maesters. The room smelled faintly of herbs, likely to aid in the healing process.

You walked slowly into the room, your eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before settling on Gwayne again. He closed the door behind you and made his way back to the bed, moving with a slight limp. You felt a pang of guilt seeing him in such a state, knowing that it was your uncle’s doing.

“Please, sit,” he offered, gesturing to a chair near the bed. You took a seat, clasping your hands in your lap, unsure of where to begin. Gwayne settled back onto the bed, wincing slightly as he did so.

“I’m sorry, Ser Gwayne,” you blurted out, unable to contain the words any longer. “I’m so sorry for what my uncle did. It was cruel and unnecessary, and… and I’m sorry you had to endure it.”

Gwayne looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he smiled—a gentle, almost affectionate smile that made your heart ache in a way that was both unfamiliar and comforting.

“There’s no need for you to apologize,” he said softly. “Your uncle is his own man, and his actions are not your burden to bear.”

“But I feel responsible,” you insisted, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “He is family, and yet he… he targeted you because of your own.”

Gwayne reached out, his hand brushing lightly against yours where they rested in your lap. The touch was soft, hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if it was welcome, but the warmth of his skin against yours sent a shiver through you. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you felt the full force of the connection that had been growing between you.

“I am a knight, Princess,” he said, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “I knew the risks when I entered the lists. Your concern honors me, but please do not blame yourself for what happened.”

You nodded, though the guilt still lingered at the edges of your mind. “I’ve been so worried about you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw you fall… I’ve never felt such fear before.”

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, the small gesture sending a thrill through you. “And I have never been so honored to be the cause of someone’s worry,” he replied, his tone laced with warmth. “But I’m all right. The maesters say I will heal fully, given time.”

The weight on your chest lifted slightly at his reassurance, and you allowed yourself to truly take in his appearance. Despite his injuries, there was a strength in him that shone through, a resilience that you admired. And more than that, there was a kindness in his eyes, a softness that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you hadn’t before.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “For being so understanding… and for not holding my family’s actions against me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I care for you, more than you might realize. Seeing you here, knowing that you came for me… it means more than words can express.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with the unspoken feelings that hung between you. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were acutely aware of how close he was, how the slightest movement would close the distance between you.

“I care for you too, Gwayne,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. It was the first time you had spoken those words, the first time you had allowed yourself to truly acknowledge what had been blossoming between you.

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought he might lean in, that he might bridge the gap and close the distance between you in a way that would change everything. But instead, he merely tightened his grip on your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that felt almost reverent.

“I will heal, Princess,” he said, his voice low and filled with a promise that made your heart swell. “And when I do, I will strive to be worthy of your care.”

“You already are,” you replied, your voice firm despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “You have always been.”

The two of you sat there in silence for a long moment, your hand still held in his, the world outside the chamber forgotten. There was no need for further words; everything you needed to say was conveyed in the gentle touch, in the shared glances, in the understanding that passed between you.

Finally, you knew it was time to go, though leaving him was the last thing you wanted. You reluctantly pulled your hand from his, rising from your seat with a heart that felt both heavy and light all at once.

“Rest well, Ser Gwayne,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth.

“And you, Princess,” he replied, his eyes lingering on yours as you turned to leave.

As you walked back through the quiet corridors of the Red Keep, your heart was filled with a new kind of certainty. The connection you felt with Gwayne was undeniable, you knew that you had found something precious in the midst of all the turmoil—something worth holding onto, no matter what the future might bring.

The years that followed the tourney saw your life change in ways you could have never anticipated. The bond between you and Gwayne Hightower deepened with each passing day, blossoming into a love that defied the expectations of courtly life. What began as shy smiles and stolen glances grew into something much more profound—conversations that lasted long into the night, tender moments shared in hidden alcoves of the Red Keep, and a connection that seemed to transcend all the chaos and political maneuvering that surrounded you both.

Gwayne became your constant companion, his presence a source of comfort and strength. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was always there when you needed him, his steady gaze grounding you when the pressures of your station became too much to bear. And in return, you gave him your heart, knowing that he would cherish it as he had cherished you from the very beginning.

It was in the quiet moments, away from the prying eyes of the court, that you truly fell in love with him. You would sit together in the godswood, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves as you shared stories of your childhoods, your dreams, your fears. He would listen intently, his gaze never wavering, and you would feel a warmth in your chest that you had never known before.

But as the years passed, you both knew that your love could not remain a secret forever. The time would come when you would have to seek the blessing of your father, King Viserys, if you were to be together openly. And so, one evening, after much deliberation, you found yourself standing before him in his chambers, your heart pounding with a mixture of hope and fear.

Viserys had aged in the years since your mother’s passing, the weight of the crown bearing heavily on his shoulders. His marriage to Alicent had brought stability to the realm, but there was a sadness in his eyes that had never truly left. Yet, when he looked at you, there was still warmth, a father’s love that had not dimmed with time.

“Father,” you began, your voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at you, “there is something I must ask of you.”

He set aside the parchment he had been reading, giving you his full attention. “What is it, daughter?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I wish to marry Ser Gwayne Hightower.”

Viserys blinked, clearly taken aback by your request. “Gwayne?” he repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. “You… you wish to marry him?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I love him. He has been a constant presence in my life, and I cannot imagine my future without him.”

There was a long silence as Viserys studied you, his expression contemplative. You could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, the calculations, the concerns. Marriages were rarely matters of the heart in the Targaryen dynasty; they were tools of politics, alliances forged to strengthen the realm. But you had always been different from your sister, Rhaenyra. You had always followed your heart, and now you were asking your father to allow you to do so in this most important of matters.

“Does he love you?” Viserys asked finally, his voice quiet.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. “I believe he does.”

Viserys sighed, his hand coming up to rub his temple. “You know what this would mean, don’t you? You are a princess of the realm, a daughter of the dragon. To marry a Hightower… it would tie you to their house in a way that cannot be undone, like it did me.”

“I know, Father,” you said. “But this is what I want. I’ve thought long and hard about it. I’ve considered the implications, the responsibilities. And still, my heart tells me this is the right path.”

At that moment, the door to the chamber opened, and Otto Hightower stepped in, his expression as calculating as ever. He must have overheard your conversation, or perhaps he had been summoned, for it was not uncommon for him to linger near the king’s chambers.

“If I may, Your Grace,” Otto interjected, his voice smooth, “a marriage between the Princess and my son would fully solidify the bond between House Targaryen and House Hightower. It would further strengthen the realm, ensuring the continued loyalty of Oldtown.”

Viserys glanced between you and Otto, his frown deepening. But when his gaze returned to you, it softened. “You truly love him?” he asked again, as if needing to hear it one more time.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice filled with a sincerity that could not be denied.

Viserys nodded slowly, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. “Then I will grant your request,” he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the decision. “You may marry Gwayne Hightower.”

Relief washed over you, and you rushed forward to embrace your father, the smile on your face brighter than it had been in years. “Thank you, Father,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

Otto’s expression was one of quiet satisfaction, and you knew that he was already calculating the benefits this union would bring to his house. But at that moment, you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were free to be with the man you loved.

The wedding took place in the Starry Sept in Oldtown, a grand affair that was attended by the most powerful lords and ladies of the realm. You wore a gown of deep crimson, the color of your house, with delicate silver thread woven into the fabric. Gwayne stood at the altar, resplendent in his armor, his eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration as he watched you approach. The ceremony was solemn and beautiful, the vows you exchanged echoing in the vastness of the Sept as you pledged your lives to one another.

After the wedding, you moved to Oldtown, where Gwayne took up his duties as a lord and you settled into your new role as his wife. It was in Oldtown that your family grew, and soon your household was filled with the laughter of children. You and Gwayne were blessed with six—three sons and three daughters, each one as beloved as the last. The boys, with their father’s hair and your violet eyes, grew strong and healthy, while the girls, with their mother’s grace and their father’s determination, were the joy of your heart.

But it wasn’t just your children who filled your home with love. Prince Daeron, your young Targaryen half-brother, had been sent to Oldtown to foster with you, and he quickly became as much a part of your family as your own children. You and Gwayne raised him as your own, and the bond between Daeron and your children was as strong as any sibling tie.

One afternoon, you found yourself standing on the balcony of your chambers, watching your children play in the garden below. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the scene. Your sons were chasing each other with wooden swords, their laughter ringing out as they pretended to be knights defending the realm. Your daughters were sitting in a circle, weaving flower crowns and giggling at some shared joke. And in the midst of them all was Daeron, his silver hair shining in the sunlight as he played with your youngest daughter, lifting her up onto his shoulders with a grin.

A sense of peace settled over you as you watched them, a deep contentment that came from knowing that they were happy, that they were safe. This was the life you had always dreamed of, the life you had fought for, and it was more perfect than you could have ever imagined.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a familiar chest. Gwayne rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he looked out at the scene before you.

“They’ve grown so much,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet wonder.

“Yes,” you agreed, leaning back into his embrace. “It feels like just yesterday they were all babes in our arms.”

Gwayne chuckled softly. “And now they’re growing into little warriors and ladies, ready to take on the world.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man who had given you so much. “I could not have asked for a better life,” you said softly, turning your head to press a kiss to his cheek. “Or a better husband.”

He tightened his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple. “Nor could I have asked for a better wife,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You have made me the happiest of men, my love.”

You stayed like that for a long while, watching your children play, the warmth of Gwayne’s arms around you grounding you in the moment. This was your life now—a life filled with love, laughter, and the joy of raising a family together. And though the future was uncertain, as it always was in the world of thrones and dragons, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could face whatever came your way.

The laughter of your children and the gentle breeze of Oldtown were the sounds of your happiness, a happiness that you had fought for, and that you cherished with all your heart. And as the sun began to set on another perfect day, you knew that this was just the beginning of the life you had always dreamed of—one filled with love, family, and the promise of a future built on the strength of your bond with the man you loved.

The Red Keep had always been a place of grandeur and tradition, but in recent times, it had become a breeding ground for fear and treachery. You had come to King’s Landing with your family for what was meant to be a brief visit, a time to reunite with your kin and remind your children of the world beyond Oldtown. But that night, your worst fears were realized in a way that would haunt you for the rest of your days.

It was late when the nightmare began. The corridors of the Keep were quiet, the usual bustle of court life having settled into the stillness of the night. Your children had been put to bed hours ago, and you had just finished reading to your youngest son, his tiny form nestled under the blankets, his eyes fluttering closed as sleep claimed him. You kissed his forehead, smoothing his hair as you whispered goodnight, believing, as any mother would, that your children were safe within these walls.

But safety was an illusion.

The first sign that something was wrong came with the faint sound of footsteps—too heavy, too deliberate. You had barely turned toward the door when it burst open, and two men, shadows in the flickering candlelight, stepped into the room. 

Their presence was overwhelming, the stench of blood and malice clinging to them like a shroud. The taller of the two, Blood, held a cruel smile on his lips, while Cheese’s eyes were as cold and dead as the steel they carried. They moved with purpose, their gaze settling on the crib where your youngest son slept, blissfully unaware of the danger looming over him.

“No!” The word tore from your throat as you surged forward, your only thought to protect your child. But Blood was faster, his hand lashing out to seize your arm and wrench you back. You struggled, tears of desperation burning your eyes as you fought against his iron grip, but it was futile. They were too strong, too determined.

“Shhh,” Cheese hissed, his voice a mockery of gentleness as he approached the crib. “No need to cry, Princess. We’re here on a simple task.”

“You can’t—please, don’t do this,” you begged, your voice breaking. “He’s just a child…”

Blood’s grip tightened on your arm, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “It’s a son for a son, Princess. A fair trade.”

His words sent a jolt of terror through you. You knew the price they had come to exact. Rhaenyra, your own blood, had ordered this—vengeance for the loss of her son, Lucerys, at the hands of Aemond. The knowledge twisted your insides with a sickening realization. This wasn’t just a random act of violence; it was retribution, and your innocent child was to be the offering.

“No! Please, take me instead! Take me!” you cried, desperation lending strength to your struggles. But Blood merely laughed, a low, chilling sound that sent ice through your veins.

“Sorry, Princess, but we’re here for the boy.”

Before you could react, Cheese reached into the crib, his movements swift and practiced. Your son awoke with a start, his sleepy eyes widening in confusion as rough hands lifted him from the bed. His small, frightened cries pierced the air, tearing at your heart as you screamed for mercy.

“Please!” you wailed, struggling even harder, your voice breaking under the weight of your terror. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Cheese’s expression remained cold as he cradled your son in one arm, his other hand drawing a knife, its blade glinting in the dim light. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of panic through you, your body trembling as you watched, powerless, knowing what was about to happen.

But instead of the killing blow you feared, Cheese moved the knife down, slicing through the delicate skin of your son’s leg. The scream that followed was inhuman, a sound of pure agony that would forever haunt your nightmares. Your son’s body jerked in his captor’s arms, blood pouring from the wound, staining his clothes and the floor beneath him.

You collapsed to your knees, your strength drained, your screams turning to choked sobs as you reached out for your child. “Please, please, stop…” you begged, your voice hoarse and raw.

Blood released you then, his mission complete, his cruel smile lingering as he watched you crawl toward your son, your hands shaking as you tried to stem the flow of blood with the hem of your gown.

“Consider this a warning,” Blood sneered, his voice low and menacing. “A message to all who would betray their kin. The price of treachery is paid in blood.”

With that, they turned and left, vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had come, leaving you alone in the darkness with your wounded child.

You gathered your son into your arms, rocking him gently as his cries weakened, his tiny body shaking with shock and pain. Blood stained your hands, your gown, the floor beneath you, and the horror of it all threatened to overwhelm you. But you couldn’t fall apart—not now. You had to save him. You had to hold on.

“Maester!” you screamed, your voice echoing through the empty corridors. “Maester, please!”

Moments later, Gwayne burst into the room, his face a mask of horror as he took in the scene before him. “No…” he breathed, his voice trembling with the same disbelief that had gripped you. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over your son, as if afraid to touch him, afraid that the sight of his broken body might shatter what remained of his composure.

“They… they came for him,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. “They came for him, and I couldn’t stop them…”

Gwayne’s eyes blazed with fury as he looked at the door, as if willing the men who had done this to reappear so he could tear them apart with his bare hands. “Where are the guards? Where were they?” he demanded, his voice rising with each word. “How could they let this happen?”

But no one could answer him. The guards who finally arrived were too late, their faces pale with the realization of their failure. And then came Alicent, her nightgown hastily thrown over her frame, her face as white as a ghost as she took in the horror that had unfolded in her own keep.

“Gwayne… my God, what’s happened?” Alicent gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw the blood, the broken child in your arms.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gwayne spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “They came for us. They came for my son. Your nephew!” His voice broke, and he shook his head, the anger in his eyes giving way to grief. “They maimed him, Alicent. They maimed my boy…”

Alicent’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks as she moved to kneel beside you. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I’m so sorry…”

But her words did nothing to ease the pain that tore through your heart. You held your son closer, rocking him as his cries grew weaker, his little hands clutching at your gown as if trying to hold on to you, to life.

“Why was my family not protected by the guards?” Gwayne demanded, his voice shaking with fury. “Rhaenyra... this is her doing! She ordered this! She wanted a son for a son, and now my son lies here, bleeding, because of her!”

Alicent flinched at his words, shaking her head. “Gwayne, please… Rhaenyra… she… she wouldn’t��”

“Wouldn’t she?” Gwayne cut her off, his eyes blazing. “This is her vengeance, Alicent! She ordered this! And for what? For Lucerys? And now my boy suffers because of it!”

You could see the pain in Alicent’s eyes, the realization of the rift that had been torn between her family and yours. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. There was nothing she could say that would bring back the sense of safety you had lost, nothing that could erase the horror of what had been done to your child.

The Maester arrived, his face ashen as he quickly set to work, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to save what remained of your son’s life. Gwayne held you close as the Maester worked, his hands trembling as they gripped your shoulders, his breath ragged in your ear.

“We’ll leave this place,” Gwayne whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ll take our children and leave this cursed place. We’ll go back to Oldtown, where they’ll be safe. I swear it.”

You nodded, unable to speak, your tears falling silently as you clutched your son to your chest, willing him to live, willing the nightmare to end.

But deep down, you knew that nothing would ever be the same. The bond between your families had been shattered, the trust you once held in Rhaenyra, in the Targaryen blood, irreparably broken. You had lost more than just a sense of security that night; you had lost the belief that family could protect you from the darkness of the world.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Spice & Secrets

Pairing: Constantine Corrino x (f)reader

Tags: NSFW, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn Romance, Betrayal of Duty vs. Love, Angst, Yearning, Power Dynamics, Politics, reader is a bene gesserit, forst time,

This chapter takes place roughly throughout the first episode.

Prologue

You knew each other as children growing up in House Corrino. Back then, conversations of the Butlerian Jihad and the spice trade passed through your ears without a second thought. The three of you were playmates: Constantine, the emperor’s bastard son, his younger sister Ynez, the princess and heir to the throne, and you, the daughter of the household's headservants.

You and Constantine always sought each other. Your parents were well-respected by the Corrinos and established themeselves as head servants of the great House, allowing you to accompany the royal children in their studies.

Each time you heard a funny joke in school, you'd glance at him, eager to see his knowing smirk. Every time the two of you were caught being noisy, his golden eyes would find yours, laughing at your shared trouble.

In your younger years, you loved picking flowers for your mother, always dragging Constantine along to the gardens with you. It’s how you earned the nickname "Flower" from him.

In a way, he had always been your defender. One of the noble boys in the court, a brute named Colin would always victimize you. Whenever the kids played, you'd always say something strange and be the first to get picked on.

One day, Constantine had overheard one such jab coming from Colin and his friends. He stood in front of you, shielding you from them and staring them down, he said. "Leave her alone."

Collin was taken aback, forcing a laugh to make it look like all good fun. Since that day, the teases relented.

Your future seemed secure, bound to the service of House Corrino.

Until one day, an elderly Bene Gesserit named Ella recognized a curiosity in you. A skill that could be honed, refined, and weaponized.

One afternoon, while you were playing in the gardens, your mother pulled you aside. She spoke calmly, telling you not to be afraid. You followed her quietly as she led you through the palace halls. The next thing you knew, you found yourself alone in a dark room, staring at a woman whose face was hidden by robes. Confused, you turned, seeking your mother-

"Face me."

The command rang out through you, and without thinking, you obeyed, turning to face the old woman. Your heart raced in your chest.

"Kneel."

A cold command that your body obeyed without hesitation. Kneeling, you stared at the woman, fear coiling in your stomach.

With the calm tone of authority, she spoke. "Put your hand in the box."

She revealed a small, dark box, and as the room seemed to shrink around you, your mind screamed to pull away, but your body remained frozen.

An hour of excruciating pain later, you were escorted out, trembling. You’d survived the Gom Jabbar trial, but the experience had changed you, though you couldn’t understand how. The pain had been unbearable, but you’d managed to endure by thinking differently. It felt… strangely empowering.

That evening, Constantine noticed you seemed different.

"Where were you?" he asked, sitting across from you at the supper table.

You hesitated before telling him about the ordeal.

He looked horrified by thr time you finished your story. "Did you tell your mother she hurt you?"

"I think she knows," you replied, giving him a look that looked unsure.

"We should tell Father." His eyes flared with concern, his voice tightening.

You bit your lip, trying to calm the anxiety that was growing inside you.

“That woman hurt you!” His words were filled with disgust.

"I think she meant well," you said softly, but doubt twisted. "I don't know why, but I think it happened for a reason."

That night, after dinner, your mother pulled you aside once more. The Bene Gesserit had already made their decision, and you were sent away to the school on Wallach IX, tearing you from House Corrino and from Constantine.

Constantine was heartbroken. For an entire month, he kept asking about you.

"Wallach IX is in a nearby galaxy," he cried, clutching a map. "We can go rescue her!"

"She does not need rescuing," his mother, Francesca, soothed, brushing his hair gently. "She's studying to become a great woman. Who will protect herself. And you."

"But that woman hurt her!" He yelled at Francesca, his young eyes filled with hatred for the unknown woman who had taken you away.

"She’ll be fine," Francesca said calmly. "Trust me."

Despite her reassurances, Constantine couldn’t forget. Every day without you felt unbearable. His heart ached, and his mind raced with thoughts of you. He wished he wasn't a bastard.

He wished he were in line for the throne. Then, he would never let his loved ones be taken away from him. Then, he would be in control.

Meanwhile, you rebelled against your training. You refused to listen, deliberately failing your lessons, hoping they would send you back.

"You need to learn these things, child," mother Tula Harkonnen said after you cursed her out for commanding you to practice a basic mental defense tactic. "To protect yourself."

"I don’t want to protect myself." You crossed your arms stubbornly, refusing to meet her eyes.

Valya, the mother superior, watched you closely. Her gaze pierced you, reading every subtle movement.

"And what of protecting those you love?" she asked, voice steady. "What about him?"

The words hit you like a bolt.

"Young Constantine," Valya continued, her eyes never leaving yours. "The Emperor’s first born. The one you can’t stop thinking about. Dreaming about. The reason you want to return so badly. Do you care for his safety?"

The mention of his name made you worry. You could only blink. "Don’t touch him." You said steadily.

Valya and her sisters engaged a meaningful look before turning back to you.

"Then you must learn." Valya's voice softened, but her command remained clear. "Learn to protect him."

Years had passed, and you excelled at your studies. By the age of fifteen, you had become one of the best in your class. Your motivation stemmed from that day when Valya advised you to protect the ones you loved. To protect Constantine.

One morning, as you sat at the library with your sisters, an imperial delegation passed through the halls. You recognized the House Corrino sigil on the gards uniform immediately.

All motion slowed around you as the delegation walked by. You craned your neck to see behind the guards, trying to make out who was visiting.

You were met with the sight of a young man in imperial royal uniform, his curly brown hair falling over tanned skin. Familiar golden eyes flicked playfully toward the other girls in the room, who flushed and turned away.

Beside him stood a pale, thin girl, her brown hair mirroring his.

Your heart skipped. You didn’t even think before the words slipped from your lips. "Oh God. Princess. Your Highness!"

The delegation halted. The girl, Ynez, turned toward you, her eyes wide with recognition.

"God," She hurried forward, wrapping you in a tight embrace.

Before you could say anything, Valya’s sharp voice cut through the air. "After me, Princess."

Ynez pulled away, clearly annoyed. "This is my childhood playmate! I haven’t seen her in years-"

"We must make haste." Valya’s tone was imperious.

Ynez shot you one last glance before reluctantly following the mother superior.

"Flower," a familiar voice called softly from behind you.

Your heart raced as you turned.

"Constantine," you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

He stood there, taller, sharper, his boyish charm now replaced with the beginnings of a handsome young man. But his golden eyes still carried the same pain.

"You look... changed." His eyes roamed over you in wonder. "Can we go somewhere private?" he asked, his eyes sweeping the room, offering a smile to the girls surrounding you.

Outwardly, you projected a demure smile, but inwardly, your pulse quickened. Your skin itched with the urge to touch him, to hold him close in a hug that could convey all the apologies and confessions you’d carried with you over the years.

"Yes, please come with me." You stood from the lunch table and led him away, hearing murmurs and whispers rise behind you as you walked.

Down an empty hall, you reached for his hand instinctively. His fingers interlaced with yours, and the contact sent a jolt of warmth through you, like sparks of electricity. You couldn’t help but squeeze his hand, a small giggle bubbling up inside you, threatening to escape.

Once in an empty classroom, Constantine told his guards to stay outside, then turned to face you. Before you could react, he pulled you into his arms. You hesitated only for a moment before wrapping your arms around him tightly. He towered over you, and you fit perfectly beneath him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

"I missed you," he whispered, his breath uneven, the words tumbling out in a soft, desperate rhythm. "I missed you, I missed you."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pulling away just enough to look at him. His golden eyes were full of intensity, affection pouring from them as he gazed down at you, still holding you close.

Your hand lifted, brushing gently against his cheek, your fingers tracing his face. "You grew your teeth back," you said softly, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you remembered his funny smile when he was still losing his baby teeth.

A playful glint sparked in his eyes as his brow quirked. "You learned to clean up your boogers," he teased.

A laugh bubbled out of you, and your body shook against his chest. "I missed you, Costa."

He pulled back just enough to look at you more seriously, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress, as if looking for the aftermath of the pain he knew you'd endured. "How have they been treating you?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

"I'm alright," you reassured him, your voice steady. It was true enough. The training had been difficult at times, but now you were learning to control your emotions and nerves, just as all Bene Gesserit were trained to do. "Really, I'm doing very well."

His hand cupped your wrist, pulling your fingers back to his face, and he leaned into your touch. "I want you back home," he murmured, his voice soft yet heavy with something more. Something desperate, you could feel it in the way his breath hitched, how his grip on you tightened. The happiness in his voice mirrored your own. You wanted to go home too, more than anything.

Your chest tightened, a hollow ache in your stomach. You wanted to ask him everything. To tell him all the things you hadn’t shared in years. "I graduate in a couple of years," you said, swallowing against the tightness in your throat. "Then I’ll be assigned to a great house as a truthsayer."

"Can you choose where?" His voice was laced with hope, but also something darker. Possessive, perhaps.

No. You couldn’t choose. But they would assign you based on what they thought you were best suited for. The Mother Superior would decide.

You shook your head. "The Reverend Mother chooses for us."

Constantine’s jaw tightened, his frustration flickering. "I want you home," he repeated, this time with more force. The command in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. "By my side."

You felt the weight of his words press against you, pulling at your chest. "What happened, Costa?" you asked softly, trying to make sense of the change in him, hoping his response would give you some clarity.

He sighed deeply, and you could hear the weariness in the sound. "It's nothing," he said quickly, but there was an edge to his words. "Just... watching the world move on around me as I do all the work while my little sister is raised to inherit the throne."

Ah. His vulnerability stemmed from his illegitimacy. The realization came quickly, but before you could give it more thought, you caught yourself. You were thinking like a Bene Gesserit again, analyzing him clinically. You pushed the thought aside.

"Perhaps you should look at it differently," you suggested gently, meeting his gaze. "Enjoy the freedom that comes with your birthright."

He blinked, his golden eyes considering your words in silence. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, but you didn’t yet know the weight those thoughts would carry, how much they would shape his path in the years to come.

"But for now," you added with a smile, "someone needs to look out for your sister."

That seemed to break through his thoughts. Constantine smirked, that familiar, easygoing smile returning. "Just promise me one thing," he said, his voice light but serious.

You nodded, waiting for him to speak.

"Don’t value the Sisterhood above all else."

You froze. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. It was a request you weren’t sure you could fulfill. A promise you didn’t know if you could keep.

But you didn’t answer right away. You only gazed up at him, the weight of his words pressing against the boundaries of your heart.

You blinked at him.You could feel his presence in a way that was deeper than before, his warmth radiating into your chest. Your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb tracing the contours of his face as if memorizing the feel of him.

You caught the crease of his forehead - worry lines.

Then youd picked up a hunch to his shoukders - a courtecy of spending lots of time writing, or reading, or strategizing.

There was a slight bulk to him and caluses on his palms - he's intensified his combat training.

"When did you become such a grown up?" You asked.

He broke into a chuckle. "I’ve missed that sharp wit most of all," he murmured, his voice breaking the silence.

A soft laugh escaped your lips. "I’ve missed you too, Costa. More than you know."

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Constantine stepped back, his hands reluctantly leaving your body. You couldn’t help the pang of disappointment in the absence of his touch.

"I should go," he said, his voice losing a bit of the warmth it had held just moments before. "They’ll be expecting me."

Chapter 1

Years had passed again. Your duties as a Bene Gesserit trainee had been demanding, but you fulfilled them with perfection.

At twenty-one, you were now a full-fledged Bene Gesserit sister.

Your transformation was striking. The soft, girlish features of your youth had been replaced with sharp, elegant lines. Hollowed cheeks and a refined jaw gave your face a mature look. Your movements were careful and deliberate. Each step, each turn of your head, is calculated to command attention. The art of cosmetics and aesthetic was second nature now, and your training in the weirding way had honed your body into a lithe, disciplined instrument.

You accompanied a delegation of Spacing Guild representatives to Seleusa Secundus. The great houses gathered hosted by House Corrino to celebrate the princesses' betrothal. The celebrations of the first night were in full swing.

The occasion called for blending in, and your attire reflected it. You wore a sleeveless black gown with a structured corset of shimmering silk, its golden threads weaving spice-inspired patterns down the bodice before cascading into skirts that swirled around your feet. A high slit revealed glimpses of toned legs as you walked. Your hair was braided and pinned like a halo, with loose tendrils framing your face. Gold-dusted shadows and dark liner enhanced the sharpness of your eyes, and your lips glistened with a subtle, golden sheen. Long gloves stretched past your elbows, completing the picture of poised sophistication.

Playing your role, you walked through the grand halls with hands folded and chin high, a display of both power and vulnerability, a subtle invitation to admire the curve of your neck and the gleam of your collarbones. Your half-lidded gaze swept the crowd, offering brief flickers of attention that hinted at intrigue.

The palace was just as you remembered—its Greek-inspired architecture and opulent displays of fountains, tapestries, and priceless artifacts all a testament to House Corrino's wealth and pride. You scanned the crowd, your eyes catching a glimpse of your mother speaking to a servant. A pang of familiarity struck, but you couldn’t approach her now. You had a mission to complete.

At your sister Lila's subtle hand gesture, you slipped away from the delegation, descending into the palace's lower levels. This was where secrets were whispered, and it was your job to listen.

The revelry below was a world apart from the formal elegance above. Young royals and aristocrats surrounded themselves with exotic animals, dancers, and indulgent laughter. Music filled the air, its rhythm almost intoxicating.

You spotted Princess Ynez first, entwined with a man whose face you didn’t recognize, one thing you knew for certain was that he was not her betrothed. The softness of her gaze and the closeness of their bodies spoke volumes. Your curiosity piqued, and you strained to catch fragments of their whispered exchange.

But then you heard a laugh familiar and full of mischief. Your sister Hera.

You turned, ready to ask what's so important that she left her post when your gaze followed hers.

Your composure slipped.

Constantine Corrino lounged on a golden bench, radiating effortlessly. He was surrounded by young nobles, some familiar and others new. Among them, Colin, his old training partner who had once tormented you, laughed loudly, a drink in hand.

Constantine commanded your attention. He had grown into a man who seemed sculpted by the gods themselves. His open shirt revealed a broad, muscled chest, and his powerful legs were clad in tailored trousers that accentuated his athletic frame. Gold adorned his hands and neck, catching the firelight and making him appear otherworldly.

He leaned back, his golden eyes fluttering closed as his head tipped against a pillow, his fingers randomly strumming the strings of a balliset. The sight of his tongue darting out to taste the lips of the girl on his lap sent a strange warmth through you. Her lack of wardrobe made her job obvious, but it was the slow, deliberate kiss they shared that held your gaze.

You pressed your thighs together, your breathing shallow. His hand moved to her waist, his fingers gripping her with an intimacy that made your cheeks burn.

Then you saw it.

A small pill balanced on her tongue as it dipped into his mouth.

Your eyes widened, and before you could think better of it, you stepped toward him.

"Your Highness!" Your voice cut through the revelry, louder than intended.

The couple broke apart, both sets of eyes turning to you. The surrounding nobles followed suit, their gazes heavy with expectation.

Recognition dawned in Constantine’s eyes, followed by a flicker of surprise and something deeper as his gaze roamed your figure.

You forced yourself to focus. "Your Highness, that woman wants to drug you. She's hiding a pill in her mouth."

The courtesan laughed. Then Constantine joined her, his voice deep and mocking.

"This would be the fourth time tonight," he drawled, his smile a sharp blade.

"You knew," you whispered, the realization hitting you like a blow.

"Of course." He smirked, leaning back lazily. I’m not as defenseless as you think."

He turned to Colin. "Do you remember little Y/N?"

Colin’s drunken grin widened as he took you in. "Holy shit, flower? Where have they been hiding you?"

You ignored him, offering a respectful bow to the emperor's bastard. "Forgive my interruption."

You turned to leave, but Constantine’s voice halted you.

"You’re not dismissed." His tone was sharp, commanding. You paused, turning back slowly to meet his gaze. The playful air around him had shifted into something heavier, darker.

The courtesan curled herself around him, trailing her lips along his neck as he stared you down.

"With all due respect, Your Highness, is there something you require of me?" Your voice was sweet, but the steel beneath it was unmistakable.

Constantine pushed the woman off his lap and rose, his height forcing you to tilt your chin to meet his eyes. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

"Walk with me."

You swallowed hard. "As you wish."

You followed Constantine down the hall, your ears straining to catch snippets of conversation from the crowd you’d left behind. Each whisper and muttered word held the potential for valuable intel, and though you knew rumors would spread about this moment, you also knew Constantine’s reputation would absorb most of the shock. His scandals were too numerous to surprise anyone anymore.

A subtle hand gesture behind your back signaled to your sister, who was stationed across the room, that she shouldn’t follow. Whatever this was, you’d handle it alone.

The hall narrowed, the opulent sounds of revelry fading into muffled echoes. You’d barely taken a step into the darkened space when his hand circled your waist, pulling you abruptly against the cool stone wall. The unexpected movement forced a gasp from your lips.

Before you could react, his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was a confession—desperate, hungry, and unrelenting. His hands framed your face, his body pressing into yours as though he could anchor himself in your presence. Your training told you to push him away, but your heart betrayed you, your fingers finding their way to the nape of his neck.

For a moment, you let yourself burn in his fire.

But it couldn’t last.

"Constantine," you breathed, pulling back just enough to break the kiss. Your face ws flushed, and your thoughts were in disarray. "I’m working."

"I don’t care." he said, his voice thick with intoxication. His golden eyes searched yours, raw and unguarded. "You stopped writing to me. Why?"

Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. How could you explain? How could you even begin? You thought of the courtesan on his lap mere moments ago, her hands all over him, and jealousy flared hot in your chest. But before you could reply, his lips found yours again, more insistent this time.

"Who taught you how to kiss?" he murmured against your mouth, the question both curious and accusatory.

You hesitated, your silence more telling than any answer could be.

His voice darkened. "Was it one of your sisters?"

You didn’t respond, but the truth hung heavily between you. Bene Gesserit taught everything. How to seduce, to manipulate, to control. And intimacy was no exception.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze searching. "Are you a virgin?"

A shy shake of your head was your only answer.

His shoulders dropped, his breath hitching. "Your first time was supposed to be with me." The admission was low and hoarse, as though dragged from the depths of him by whatever drug coursed through his veins. His lips brushed your neck, and his hands slid down to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. His body was a furnace, his heat searing through the fabric of your gown.

"I was supposed to show you pleasure," he whispered, his words half promise, half regret.

A soft moan escaped your lips despite yourself. "If… if you were, you’d be the first," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He froze, his gaze snapping to yours. "You mean… you’ve never?" His voice was filled with both disbelief and something far darker.

You shook your head again, a blush creeping up your neck.

The look in his eyes turned molten, a hunger you’d never seen before consuming his features. It made you shiver.

Slowly, he lowered his lips to your neck, kissing your throat. The sensation both tickeling and deliciously sensitive. His lips painted your neck with kisses. Instead of hunching lower to reach your collarbones, he picked you up, holding you above himself against the wall the two of you fitting like a puzzle. Your fingers curled around his locks as you whispered. "Dont leave marks."

He snorted. "There are women who'd consider it a privelige to have my 'marks' on them."

"You didnt offer me privilege." You whispered, as your hands glided over the ridges of his muscular back. "You offered me pleasure."

He snorted at that. "Oh its like that." Before his free hand lowered to the slit in your skirt, cupping your sex, and applying preassure on your clit. Your breath hitched and you grounded your hips against him. He obliged you with more pleasant strokes before releasing you back to stand on your feet. Before you could ask why, he kneeled in front of you, wasting no time and setting aside your skirt and tasting you. His tongue played a game. Circling your clit in slow moves before eagerly licking it woth more pressure. He did this again and again, occasionally dipping into your opening. You held your moans, suppressing them to a volume only the two of you could hear. "Costa, please-"

He moaned against you. The vibration sent a delicious shudder throughout your body. You felt the start of a warmth in the pit of your lower belly. Never recalling such a feeling before, you enjoyed the new sensation. "Costa... I... I feel -"

He silemced you without saying a word. His finger sliding into your core, brushing your nerves inside as his tongue continued its assault. You shook with the overwhelming sensation you'd read about so many times. Many emotions stormed within you. Disbelief, extasy, guilt.

That's when your vision went red. Burning. All you could feel was burning. A suffocating pain all over your skin. And a pair of blue eyes staring at you as you died.

"Y/n... Y/n!" A voice urgedn, anchoring you back to reality.

You blinked, you vision showing you a worried Constantine watching you. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searched yours, widened with worry.

"Flower, what's wrong? What just happened to you?" He asked, and for a moment, you saw the boy you once knew. Filled with honesty and love.

"It isn't safe here." You breathed, coming down from your vision. "Where are you guards, you must go to your room."

"What?" He asked in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me? What just happened to you? Was it one of those weird bene gesserit mind tricks?"

"I can't explain right now." You shook your head, running your hands over your dress, smoothing it. And cleaning up your hair. "I have to go."

"What? Back to your disgusting sisters? The one drugging you and fucking up your mind?"

"Constantine-" You began, urging him to see the seriousness of the situation.

"No, go on." He waved you off, already walking out into the party. "You're going to do it anyway."

[spacedace]

I had more thoughts about my "Elle is the Ancient of the Speedforce" au idea so I'm gonna dump them here in bullet point format:

Elle decides to formally claim the Flash Fam as part of her Court, no one thinks much of this outside of "Oh that's neat" until it comes out that if anything happens to Elle, the FlashFam becomes the new Royal Family of Speedforce and that due to weird Infinite Realms laws Bart is the next in line for the mantle of Ancient of the Spaceforce

Elle can use any Speedster as a portal. She just decides who she wants to see and just comes crawling put of their chests like a god damn horror movie. It doesn't hurt the Speedster at all (it actually gives them a power boost for a bit) but it is absolutely fucking terrifying to witness this eldritch entity burst its way out of the Speedster in question. The FlashFam uses this as the ultimate intimidation tactic. It's super effective.

Now that they are in direct contact with the Speedforce itself (in a way) the Speedsters can get away with So Much Shit that they didn’t used to. Elle can now just pull them out of her core if they end up going to fast and now that they have someone who has the Ancient of Time on speed dial (ha) they get a heads up on what that particular attempt to fuck with time will result in

Technically Diana & the FlashFam are cousins now. The family reunions get a little wild. Batman has no idea how he's supposed to make contingencies for this shit

Anytime any of the Speedsters are having issues with the Speedforce they call Elle and she helps them figure it out and get it under control. Sometimes to help calm them down she will pull the Speedforce away from them completely

Elle decides that her Speedsters all need therapy. Jazz won't do it because since they're family now it'd be a conflict of interests but a few Yetis from the Far Frozen step up to help.

Anytime it looks like there is something truly world ending about to go down thr FlashFam call Elle to help out. Since she looks like a tiny twelve year old girl it results in a lot of funny moments of the Biggest Big Bads being like "This is all you got?" Seconds before having their faces melted off.

The reason Bart is Elle's heir is because he "inherited" Elle's. (And therefore Danny's) ability to duplicate.

Everyone finally chills out about the idea of Bart being Elle's heir only to discover that being her heir also makes him second in line for the throne of the Infinite Realms.

Constantine - once he stops having a panic attack about it - does try to sell his soul to each of the Speedsters just to see if it would work. It does, but since they technically out rank everyone else he's sold his soul too, anyone who has a soul contract with Constantine takes this to mean the new members of the Royal Family want *all* of Constantine's soul and hand thier contracts over to try and gain favor. Constantine now constantly feels like he's on the brink of having an adrenaline crash and no one will buy his soul off him anymore because no one wants to piss off the new royals lol

[vivwritesfics]

Poll time bc I'm indecisive asf

You guys know I have a lot of series planned - I'm trying to get them down into looooong ass oneshots and I wanna know what you want next.

Descriptions will be first and then a poll at the bottom, read carefully before choosing:

Everybody Wants To Rule The World (rewrite) -OP81

Zac Brown, head of the McLaren family. His daughter is more trouble than she's worth. But then he finds a young Australian, way too talented with a gun for any other line of work, who might just be able to keep her out of trouble (spoiler, he can't keep her out of trouble, but he doesn't want to) (mafia au)

Royal bucky barnes au

Bucky was never meant to be on the throne. He knows it, his advisors know it. Hell, the whole kingdom knows it. But Steve was dead and he was supposed to rule in his place. Which only serves to piss off Steve's little sister and rightful heir. There's one thing left for her to do. Seduce him and take the throne for herself

Piastri Twins - LS2

Logan sargeant and Oscar piastri's twin sister are a thing. Well, they're a thing so long as Oscar doesn't find out (bc thr minute he does, Logan is gonna end up dead lmao)

Pirate! Au - MV1

Dread captain Max Verstappen rules the sea with an iron fist. His crew is the best of the best. She disturbs the peace. She cost him the treasure he was so desperately seeking. He should have her killed for it, but he doesn't. Why not? Because she's the only person in the world not afraid of him

[charlottedabookworm]

and i didn’t like the ending verse and the contrast between aegon, between art, and viserys

cos art loved fiercely wnd brilliantly and loudly and when he named his son his heir (his brothers son, a boy with no royal blood, a peasant common orphan boy) he did everything in his power that no one could contest blue after his death

he gave blue all the training art never had a chance to get and he worked with the mage to make certain he could wield thr magic of the sword as much as art could and he never marriage

art never married, never had children, tracked down each and every old flame to make certain that there were no babes of his blood floating around

(the few who claimed to be, who could have been, had no reaction to the sword and that proved they were not)

arthur pendragon found, raising his brothers son, that he loved it. he loved being blue’s dad

he never dared have children of his blood

(viserys’ wife wasn’t even moons dead when he took another wife, his daughter his heir for not even a year when said wife gave birth to a boy)

aegon targaryen’s very existence is a threat to rhaenyra’s claim to the throne, one he knows very well because he worked so hard to make sure it didn’t happen to blue

he loved his son and his brother enough for that

viserys may love his eldest daughter, but not enough put her above his own wants

not enough to actually secure her claim on the throne and even now viserys does nothing even as his wife wears a banner of war every day and it’s-

it’s enough to make aeg rage

[theemporium]

Royalty! core with thr boyfriends where they are the heirs to their home country and Blitz, Sunshine, Butterfly, Trouble and Angel being the future regents alongside their husbands who'd burn the world down for them. Or royalty! core in general because some of those boys just give me royal vibes.

we love some royalty au!!! I think charles and carlos give the biggest prince energy ever tho!!

[forever-eternal]

Unnamed AU has an AU called Dreemurr Heirs:

In Dreemurr Heirs, Cadenza’s fatal illness is caught by chance, and its lethality is stopped in its tracks.

Due to this, Cadenza is able to stop Chara and Asriels plan, and Gaster is never sucked into the void in attempts to bring back the dead with the CORE.

When Cadenza is 25, she’s crowed Queen, and so begins a new era of prosperity for the Underground. She rules for centuries, and the Underground change.

The Ruins are rebuilt into Flowervale, the greenest part of thr Underground. Proper trails and unpaved roads are made between every area and the massive nature of the cave is used to its fullest potential.

More humans fall and are assimilated into their society, for the Underground is far more enjoyable a place to live than the Surface. This brings about the creation of hybrids.

Due to exposure to Monster Magic, humans lifespans are increased, as well as their ability to use minor magic. Those exposed to Boss Monsters, such as Cadenza and Chara, do not die unless killed or if they have a heir to take their place.

Orphans live in the palace until they find their adoptive families, and Queen Cadenza is a benevolent and generous ruler. The Underground is practically a Utopia, and most residents do not wish to return to the surface.

Frisk and Foreste are the first who fall that try to return, in Cadenza’s 556th year of her reign, and at the end of the true pacifist run they are given the choice to stay or leave. If they leave, they cannot tell anyone of what lies under the surface.

Chara is the Princess and Main Advisor. Her wit has grown with her age, and she is considered a poet.

Asriel has become Captain of the Royal Guard, with Undyne being Vice Captain. He had never wanted to be King, but he had wanted to be a knight.

Asgore and Toriel run a cafe in Flowervale, and have long ago retired from Royal Affairs.

Gaster is the Royal Scientist at the Queen’s beck and call. Sans is the Queen’s Judge, his face and true self hidden when she calls upon her Judge. Papyrus is a knight and the Queen’s escort.

[inky-duchess]

Hi duchess!!!

I'm writing a kinda AU UK and right now we're in the 80s and the youngest princess has fell in love with a billionaire heir, he's from the aristocracy but not an "original one", after his grandfather found success in bussiness and investments he bought a title in the UK and now the princess' love is the heir, okay, so my questions are: 1- What would be the best title for him to be considered a suitable match for the princess? A count, a marquess, a duke? (Can you even buy a dukedom?) 2- Would he be accepted coming from a high class but not exactly old money family, or would be seen prejudicial to the family marrying someone so rich and involved in bussiness, since he's obviously inheriting his grandfather's and his father's bussiness and companies ? (Since the BRF seems to prefer keep themselves away from this world)

Buying a title wouldn't really work. Not only is it very frowned upon and could be seen as a mockery of the system, its the 80s. It won't fly with thr media, people and government. Better that the title was bestowed by the crown rather recently. At this stage in time, nobody needed a title to marry a royal so any title would be appropriate.

He would, if he proves himself a worthy match, able to handle the pressures and duties of bring a royal.

[kiarts]

Realized that I never really shared anywhere the plot of my loz au so excuse my rambling down here.

The basis of the story is that we follow two differents sets of Link and Zelda, the first ones are both nobles with Link being born as the last son of the Duke of Hebra and Zelda is, well the heir to the throne of Hyrule (and also the daughter of the sister of the current chief of thr Gerudo) and they grew up as childhood friends in a prosperous era of Hyrule thinking that their destiny was never gonna reach them and they would never need to fight a dark power, they were wrong.

Now the second pair is more humble and show up only 100 years after the first, Link is the oldest son of a single mom who was left to raise three kids on her own after her lover left her for a richer woman, while Zelda is not the heir to the throne anymore since the royal family lost all their reigning power 100 years ago after the emperor took over, she was raised locked in what once was Hyrule Castle, never allowed to leave her grandmother and mother being to anxious that the emperor would try to kill her or worse, sacrifice her for her power.

The second Link happens to find the sword by accident when hunting in Hyrule forest, or what was left of it after the war against Labrina a century ago and he immediately is taken to the old castle, to be sent into a mission to kill the emperor and free Hyrule of him after so many years, but before he could depart (with Zelda, who was made to go against her wishes) the old lady who once was the heir to all of Hyrule calls him over and begs him to not kill the emperor who once was Link, her dear childhood best friend who turned to the dark side during the war but she still believes that deep down he is still good

[liviavanrouge]

Royal Gathering

Malleus: *Grins, talking with other royals*

Farena: It's an honor to be invited, we thank you, king of the night

Malleus: Livia prepared the guest list, do not thank me

Amara: I hear Princess Livia is an exceptional girl, is it true she's saved over a hundred children and returned them to their parents

Malleus: Yes, she's also convinced others to swear eternal loyalty to the Draconia family, Including the were-people

Farena: *Looks over at Livia stunned* That's amazing...

Livia: *Smiles, chatting away with Sarah*

Sarah: Princess, Malleus told me to tell you that you should go talk with the other heirs to kingdoms

Livia: I see, I shall do that *Turns and walks away, people staring at her and whispering as she walked past*

???: WHERE IS THE VALLEY OF THORNS PRINCESS?! WE'VE BEEN HEARING ABOUT HOW GREAT SHE IS BUT SHE'S NOT HERE!!!

Livia: *Opens the doors and Bows to the royal heirs* I am Crowned Princess Livia Garcia Vanrouge, future queen of thr Valley of Thorns and the most precious person to Malleus Draconia

Cheka: Livia!

Livia: Cheka, my how you've grown! You look so handsome now!

Cheka: *Laughs, looking proud*

???: I am Prince Claude, this is my younger brother Prince Harry

???: I am Princess Marlene, it is a great honor to meet you, over there is Prince Izack, Prince Kena, Princess Gardena and Prince Dale, it's our greatest pleasure to greet thr famous Crowned Princess

Livia: It's my pleasure as well

???: SHE'S A FAKE! HER LAST NAME ISN'T EVEN DRACONIA IT'S VANROUGE!

Kena: Sh-Shelby don't, rumors has it that she's the most important person to Malleus alongside the queen

Shelby: I DON'T CARE! WHO ALLOWED A NON ROYAL TO BECOME PRINCESS!!

???: You're being very rude to her highness

Livia: *Smiles, several near bear sized dogs appearing growling at Shelby*

Shelby: *Screams, stepping back* T-THOSE ARE WERE-PEOPLE! THEY'RE WERE-DOGS!

Brownie: Disrespect her highness again and they'll be an accident...

Livia: That's enough, all of you, we don't threaten guests!

Sarah: *Shifts human, her ears drooping* We apologize Princess, we just don't wanna loose the one person who is giving us a chance instead of trying to execute us

Claude: It's wrong for people to try and Execute were-people, they're just like Beastmen, only they can shift into the animal they're born as..

Dale: I agree with Claude, I'll try to persuade my father to respect these poor people more

Gardena: Same here!

Shelby: THEY'RE DISGUSTING PEOPLE WHO NEED TO BE GOTTEN RID OF!

Livia: I think you should leave, you're ruining the peace

Shelby: *Freezes, her eyes wide in terror*

Silver and Sebek: *Stares from the shadows, their eyes glowing dangerously, hands on their swords*

Shelby: I'm sorry...I'll be quiet

Livia: Thank you, now lets have a great tea party

[jibril-thelibraryangel]

Why didn’t THIS outfit got a matching look with the baby?!?

[agbcordonia]

[bobasheebaby]

Liv, in leather... *falls over*