#unspoken legacy

[invinciblerodent]

i should not be concocting elaborate daydreams about characters i haven't even heard speak in earnest yet, huh

i am vying against the desk, nails bloodied and knuckles white, please let me make up more guys (gn) to kiss those other guys (gn)

[mmmatchasims]

[namedafterflowerstournament]

Botanic Tournament : Hollies Bracket !

Round 0 Poll 1

[the-orange-wasabi]

rip kami glass, you would’ve loved pinkpantheress

[flowerish-cherry-blue]

untold by @sarahreesbrennan

«it's russell montgomery the third, actually,» said rusty, still grinning. «but i'd be obliged if you keep that bit of information to yourself.»

«i don't imagine any of us cares enough to remember,» jared said.

[kaidynsarell]

🍁🪻Sanguinis et Omnium Fractorum🪻🍁

Chapter 1- Of Stubborn and Impatience

🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻

Pairings- Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating- This story is rated overall 🔞 (Ch 1 is SFW)

Tags- Fluff, Angst, Irritation, Unread letters, and MC (Clara) just being all around Sullen.

The full chapter can be found below the cut (2.7k words)

Ongoing Fic.

Chapters 1-5 are available on AO3 and Wattpad

Thursday, 1st September, 1892

The tea had long since cooled in the time it had sat, untouched on the little table near her four-poster bed. Clara Elmore had not moved since the clink of porcelain against the wood had snapped her unfocused gaze up to the round-faced blonde who’d set it there. Grace’s soft eyebrows had been pulled together in an expression she’d worn far too often around Clara over the past year. Worry. It made Clara’s bones itch. Worry lived too close to pity, and she hated pity.

She’d seen pity too often since the events in the Repository, and each time tasted more bitter against her tongue.

So, she’d hardly acknowledged her roommate's presence as the blonde had carefully set the tea down, and muttered something Clara hadn’t been paying attention to. Probably something about being around to talk if needed. Grace was kind and Clara was being rude. She couldn’t find it in herself to do more than chew on the inside of her lip and Grace had gone without another word.

Still, she sat there, staring across the emerald bed hangings of the two other four poster beds and stubbornly refusing to move from the spot on her mattress; until one particularly uproarious cheer from the common room below reminded her the others would eventually be coming back to the dorm, and she desperately wanted to be in bed before then.

Her being ‘asleep’ meant no one asked how she was doing, and that was preferable to giving some vague well-rehearsed lie, or worse, attempting to coalesce the cacophony of rambling anxieties into something that resembled sentence structure.

The latches of her secondhand trunk clicked noisily, though, not as loudly as the creak of the hinges which were well in need of oil. Morning would bring the official start of Seventh-year classes, and sleep meant finally unpacking and tidying the trunk she’d been neglecting. Uniforms came first. Second hand, like her trunk. But repaired, washed, and pressed by the warm wrinkled hands of her grandmother; who had insisted on caring for Clara’s uniforms when she couldn’t afford the cost of new robes. If love could be stitched, Clara would swear she could find it woven into each of the places her grandmother had repaired the holes and worn edges.

The soft feel of cashmere met her fingers next, and almost without thinking, she brought the deep burgundy scarf up to her face and brushed it over her cheek. It had been an unexpected Christmas present from Ominis in 5th year and was one of the only items she possessed that hadn't been loaned or purchased secondhand.

Being blind, the blond had not known what ‘burgundy’ meant when the shop-keep had told him the color. Instead, as he told her, he’d selected it because he thought it felt nice and believed she might enjoy it.

“Besides-” He’d clipped, in that biting tone only Ominis could achieve. “-I can hardly think these days with the excessive chattering of your teeth. Perhaps this will make them stop.”

His sarcastic irritation painted only a thin layer over the kindness of the gesture. A shield against the brief vulnerability the gift had shown her.

So, despite it being almost Gryffindorian by nature, she’d worn the scarf nearly every day that winter; much to Imelda’s chagrin and Sebastian's amusement.

Below the carefully folded uniforms and scarf, the remaining disorganization of the trunk could have convinced her she’d spent far more than two years surrounded by the walls of the castle. Her grandmother would have been disappointed. Clara dug on. Pulling out heavy books, jars of dittany and mallowsweet, spare wiggenwelds, broken quills, scraps parchment, and a pouch of seeds Poppy had insisted were a favorite of jobberknolls before her fingernails scraped the threadbare material at the bottom and settled on a worn leather journal.

Clara opened it, almost without thinking. Allowing the pages to fall open to a sprig of baby’s breath, pressed between pages speckled with ink; as though the journal itself had known the ghost of the boy who’d given it to her.

The ghost of a boy who’d loved so sweetly he’d stop to pick flowers for a girl, even amid the storm that had raged around them.

The boy who’d loved fiercely and unrelentingly, until the force of it tore him apart and bloodied green over their walls. Three Sallow’s had become two, and they all waited and feared the day two would become one.

In some ways, it already had.

Sebastian had disappeared without a trace; save for a single letter and a sprig of bluebells he’d left on the same table where the cold tea now took up residence. Clara had long since given up trying to figure out how he’d managed to access the girls' dormitories. ‘Impossible’ had only ever been a word to ignite his stubborn determination and Sebastian had a curious knack for finding his way into places he shouldn’t be.

Almost of their own accord, her fingers fumbled the rough edges of the pages. Leafed through them, past the little jotted notes and inked sketches. Past the pages pressed with heather and hyacinth to where that single bluebell pressed its pigment against the parchment and the violet painted over cream.

Gratitude and everlasting love.

Her fingers brushed the places the pigments bled against the parchment, and not for the first time, Clara wondered if Sebastian had known the language of flowers.

Had it been a coincidence the first had been baby’s breath?

Hope, new beginnings, and innocent love.

An image of messy brown curls and sun-kissed freckles tipped the edges of her memory. Tiny white flowers offered with a roguish smirk that had done little to distract from the way his gaze had darted too quickly between her eyes and the flowers held with trembling fingers.

Had it been a mere chance he’d offered heather before each of the brutal trials the Keepers had demanded of her?

Luck, protection, and admiration.

Could it have been happenstance he’d offered a hyacinth when she’d stubbornly refused to speak to him after his anger had exploded over her involvement with Lodgok?

Sorrow, regret, and forgiveness.

Somehow she didn’t think so. Sebastian may have been a lot of things. Playful, charming, and confident? Yes. Wildly chaotic and infuriatingly stubborn? Definitely. Insatiably curious and much too intelligent for his own good? Absolutely. But naïve? Naïve, was never a trait she’d been able to attribute to the Slytherin.

Perhaps that was the reason she’d never read his letter.

It had been discarded in a fit of anger, to be lost to the bottom of her trunk, and conveniently covered by a scattering of miscellaneous items. Out of sight, and pushed to the edges of her mind where she’d refused to acknowledge the places where the corners of it dug into her thoughts.

Neither of them had ever fully acknowledged whatever had been between them. Sewn with intricate strands of sugar-spun glass, and left unspoken. As though to touch it would have been enough to shatter the delicate balance in which they’d found themselves. Instead, it had been said in the furtive glances during long hours in the library. In the leaning closer until their shoulders touched, and in the uneven crashing of her heart when neither of them moved away. It had been found tucked beneath their palms in the moments they’d spent seated amongst fields of heather; his fingers curled around hers and brushing absentmindedly along the back of her hand as she’d used the other to connect the freckles across his cheeks.

In a single stolen kiss, under starlight by the lake. The softest brush of his lips over hers, and the stars had found their home, scattered across her skin.

Perhaps things would have been different had the brunt of stopping Ranrock's rebellion not fallen on her shoulders. Or if Anne had not been dying.

But it had. And she was. So they weren’t.

Clara’s fingers traced the outline of the delicate violet-blue flowers once again. Why she’d not tossed the flower away with the letter was a mystery, even to her.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Gratitude and everlasting love.

She’d always walked a line between stubborn and impatient. In many instances, the two virtues fell on opposite sides of her problems and she often found herself in a battle of which would be the stronger. The letter had been no different, and her stubborn had won.

She’d refused to open it. To acknowledge whatever ‘goodbye’ he’d scrawled across the parchment. Refused the idea he’d said he loved her with violet petals and disappeared. That he might have written the same across the page and abandoned her. Stubborn had thrown the envelope into the corner of her trunk and denied its existence. Meanwhile, her heart had wrapped threads to the edges of her fingers and carefully pressed the bluebell between crisp pages where the violet may as well have been imprinted onto her skin.

She’d never said it to him. Flower or otherwise. Then again, she’d not left him either.

Stubborn could hide the letter and let her lose it amongst her belongings. Stubborn could hold her hand while she refused to acknowledge the possibility that he may never come back.

The crisp rectangle rested against the bottom. Beige framed by faded indigo. Still, she refused to touch it and her fingers scraped the bottom for any remaining items. A few gold coins, a crumpled potions essay she’d only half finished, the odd sock, and half a dozen hairpins until nothing else remained; save for the single four-sided polygon.

Stubborn may have masked her over the past year while the letter was hidden and out of sight, but impatience’ eager fingers flitted against the place her stubborn lived and curled under its edges. Worked it away like peeling wallpaper, until shaking fingers finally grasped the beige and left the indigo unadorned.

Another series of shouts from the Slytherin common room startled against her ears and Clara flicked her wand to her bed hangings. They closed around her in an instant. Cocooned her away between walls of emerald.

The seal of the envelope broke far easier than she’d anticipated and trembling fingers pulled out two pieces of parchment. One, which was blank and impatiently discarded somewhere behind her. And another, spiderwebbed with the splattered ink of his usual messy scrawl.

Sebastian's handwriting could have been classified as its own method of code. Atrocious. Which she had always found amusing, given Anne’s impeccable talent with calligraphy. It had been a point of pride when she’d finally learned to read it. Now, there could have been an N.E.W.T taught on the subject of deciphering Sebastian Sallow’s handwriting and she’d have achieved an Outstanding without question.

Something was comforting in the familiarity of it, and trying to ignore the wavering of the page below her trembling fingers; Clara finally lowered her eyes to the letter she’d allowed to be lost to the bottom of her trunk and refused to read for over a year.

Ara,

I know you’re angry. It’s okay. I would be angry at me too, and while I hope in time you can forgive me, I’ll understand if you can’t. I know leaving like this was selfish, but I couldn’t stay here, and I knew if I saw you I wouldn’t have the strength to go. Perhaps that makes me a coward too—another reason I’m not a Gryffindor.

The truth is, I need time. Time away from everything. Away from Scotland and Hogwarts. Time to gather my thoughts or maybe make sense of everything or……I don’t know……

Just time, I guess.

Besides, a whole world exists, and Anne still needs a cure. I can’t say if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve her forgiveness, or yours, but Anne deserves to live and I can’t afford to limit my search to Britain or Hogwarts. There are at least seven other wizarding schools I’ve not even touched. Can you imagine what could be found in the mountains of Uagadou or at Mahoutokoro? Even the ancient Egyptian wizards had vast libraries and I’ve not ruled out muggle means of healing either.

There has to be something, somewhere.

She could almost hear his voice through the page. The exuberance with which it bubbled up in those moments his thoughts ran faster than his lips could form the words and the syllables tripped over one another in a furious bid for freedom.

I know you’d have wanted to come, and I’d be lying if I said I won't miss you terribly. But this is my burden to carry. The world has already asked too much of you Ara, and I’ve asked more than most.

It’s time you get a chance to truly enjoy Hogwarts without threats looming over your head.

As you are likely already aware, I’ve established enchantments to render myself untraceable-

She was. She’d not sent the owls, but Ominis had. They had all returned days later, having been unable to locate the recipient, and Sebastian's whereabouts had remained unknown. Clara had never told the blond about the letter stubbornly tossed to the bottom of her trunk. And just as impatience had lost to stubborn, so had guilt, and the letter had remained locked away.

-but I’ve cast an alteration of the Protean charm on the blank page included with this letter.

( If I know you, you’ve immediately tossed that page away somewhere, and quite frankly, I’m very much counting on you not immediately setting fire to this whole letter as soon as you see it.)

If you write on that parchment, I’ll see the message on the matching copy I’ve got with me, and I’ll be able to write back to you.

As I’ve said, I need some time, but If you do choose to write, I promise I will write back to you, Ara.

I leave the rest in your hands, Love.

Yours, Always

- S

The letter dropped into Clara’s lap with a little flutter, caught on the air, and wavered a moment before settling against the plush emerald of her bedspread. In another instant, she snatched the blank parchment from the spot it had settled in the corner and studied it furiously. As though she might find the workings of the magic woven within the fibers.

Though her stubborn desperately wanted to toss the letter away and refuse to respond, impatience’s claws dug deep. Before she could stop to think of the ridiculousness of it, she’d found a quill and a bottle of ink and scooted the cold tea cup from the small table to make space for the blank page.

The tip of her quill hovered a long time over the parchment. Long enough drips of onyx slid down to contrast the beige. A steady drip, drip, drip as her mind vacillated between the myriad of things she’d wanted to say to him. Thoughts that had crowded her mind when she’d been too restless to sleep and she’d replayed all the things she’d have told him if he’d stayed.

If they’d had more time.

She settled for one word.

--Bastian?--

The ink hovered on the page. Glistened in the low candlelight and absorbed the muted tones of green that melted in through the window from the lake above.

The space below his name remained frustratingly blank.

Clara sighed and pressed her fingers into her eyes. He’d not said how long it would take him to respond and she resisted the urge to write. ‘This is stupid. I’m writing to a blank parchment and expecting it to write back.’

She settled for muttering it under her breath, as though the paper might have ears.

Though, she thought. He should be grateful she had written his name and not some version of ‘What the fuck were you thinking, Sallow?’

She decided she’d write that later.

Still, she stared at the blank space and drummed her fingers against the edge of the table. Caught in a stalemate, as stubborn and impatient battled furiously between scribbling another message, and locking the parchment back into her trunk for another year.

She almost didn’t notice when the page shimmered. It wasn’t much. Just a slight ripple of distorted light and in the place her ink had formed his name, new letters began to appear.

One by one.

In the familiar messy scrawl that embodied all of the chaos of its writer.

 …

…

…

.::Hello Sweetheart::.

[bookcub]

quotes from the lynburn legacy by sarah rees brennan (1/2)

[ninibeingdelulu]

Calmness ✧

Plot: Ken and you have a real daughter.

A/N: kinda short :(

Soft evening light filtered through the den, casting everything in that warm, nostalgic glow you'd come to associate with pure contentment over these past few blissful years together.

Ken's attention remained transfixed on that vintage baseball game rerun flickering across the flatscreen.

Body settled deep into those overstuffed couch cushions with one leg casually crossed over the other in peak middle-aged dad repose.

But it was the tiny, swaddled bundle cradled against his barrel chest that held your rapt fascination from the archway.

Soaking in every precious detail of their serene tableau with an overflow of maternal adoration swelling in your breast.

At just three months old, your newborn daughter remained utterly oblivious to her surroundings - cherubic features smoothed into perfect repose while bronzed lashes fanned over porcelain cheeks.

One little fist tucked up beneath her chin while the other tiny starfish hand rested atop Ken's broad pec, rising and falling with each of his steady rumbles.

Her doting father absently brushed the pad of his thumb in soothing circles over the minuscule knuckles. Never once taking those transfixed mahogany pools off your slumbering miracle's face as if committing every microscopic shift to eternal memory.

That singular worshipful reverie you'd immediately recognized and fallen hopelessly in love with all over again these past few weeks.

The exact same soul-deep look Ken once bestowed solely upon the orphaned kaiju he'd raised before watching her depart for greener pastures - now magnified tenfold through his unbreakable connection to your shared offspring.

A permanent reminder of the family you created together from that cosmic loneliness.

"She's not at all like Emi was , is she?" You murmured, footsteps barely audible across the plush carpet until dropping onto the open cushion space beside him.

Ken responded with only a low rumbling hum from his broad chest while immediately unfurling that sheltering arm around your shoulders.

Cocooning you into his solid, familiar warmth until your cheek smooshed comfortably against the firmness of his shoulder. Close enough to press a wandering caress across your tiny miracle's silken crown.

"No - she's not. She's ours." A meaningful pause preceded Ken's soft, gravelly rasp ghosting across your hairline. "Our daughter...our real baby that you gave me, sweetheart. One I'll guard with my life the same way I do for you always."

Melting into the tender, possessive squeeze encircling your trim waist, you craned your chin up against his collarbone to receive that lingering brush over your puckered lips.

Ken's soulful gaze locked onto yours - swimming depths of protective ferocity tamed only through utter reverence for the two solitary souls anchoring his universe now.

The unspoken mantra of doing anything to safeguard the loves of his life until extinction itself.

"You've already given me more than enough happiness to last a trillion lifetimes, babe. Thank you," he whispered hoarsely against your skin.

"For being everything I could've dreamed during those cold, empty decades..."

You stifled the tiny sniffle by reclaiming his questing mouth in a searing, needful communion - conveying through satin caresses alone just how desperately you treasured this man and the profound sanctuary of family he'd bestowed upon you.

Your Ultraman, protector, partner, and living legacy of insurmountable love all in one. Cradling you both to his gallant hero's heart for eternity.

[lifeonmarz-blog]

The 12 houses explained: short word format

1st: Aries, Mars, Yang, Dragon, Bee, Face, Eyes, Eyebrows, Voice, Accent, First Glance, Passion, Drive, Self Esteem, 3rd Eye, Intuition, Hard on yourself, Mutable, Patience, Leader, Stoic, Muscles, Neck/Head tension, Animals, Intensity, Head scarf, Tender headed, Attracting energy vampires, Hard headed, Red, Purple, Sexual energy, Humor, Introvert/extrovert, Fear of child baring because loss of freedom, Judgement, Lymph nodes, Guitar, Fast talker, Sharp talker, Forward thinking, Warrior, Personality, Spine...

2nd: Taurus, Venus, Yin, Panda, Neck/Throat, Throat chakra, Mouth, Thyroid, Heart, Pink, Blue, Fluid, Security, Resources, Musician, Silent, Introvert, Nose, Scent, Taste, Parent, Singing, Arms, Dancing, Food, Breeze, Partnership, Sharing, Values, Luxury, Pleasure, Easy going, Soft spoken, Naivety, Split decisions, Indecisive, Moon, Father, Sturdy, Poker face, Children, Trustworthy, Grit, Victory, Horses, Trials...

3rd: Gemini, Mercury, Yin/Yang, Jack Rabbit, Hands, Feet, Speech, Tongue, Lungs, Fast pace, Exercise, excitement, Bounce back, Joy, Vigor, Youth, Fidget, Anxiety, Habits, Expressive, Musician, Storyteller, School, Journalist, Moral system, Networking, Group, Siblings, Questioning, Stocks/trading, Choices, Dedication, Picky, Options, Dare Devil, Flirt, Long lasting, Hopes, Trees/Forest, Art, Comedian, Chances, Materials, Time, Loyal, Boundaries, ...

4th: Cancer, Moon, Yin, Owl, Family, Mother, Compassion, Creation, Birth, Life, Regret, Sleep, Nipple, Breast, Anus, Stomach, Womb, Bellybutton, Heart, Sacral, Blue, White, Yellow, Ocean, Cold, Night, Cycle, Fly on the wall, Unspoken secrets, Pores, Suicide, Whispers, Distracted, Outsider, Alchemy, Caregiver, Chef, Guidance, Critical, Teeth, Passage/Gateway, Humming, Drums, Weight on your back, Pressures, Gratefulness, Gratitude, Obedience, Horse, Animals, Words that cut...

5th: Leo, Sun, Yang, Lion, Spine, Heart, Pets, Fun, Youthful, Children, Love affairs, Expression, Dance, Gymnastics, Loud, Bright colors, Short trips, Friends, Aunts/Uncles, Get togethers, Cars, Innovative, Actor, Protection, Magician, Gardening, Gossip, Alchemy, Adulthood, Relaxing, Bonding, Self destruction, Slick words, Hard work, Spotlight, Sharing, Rebuilding, Clothing, Renewed vision, Drawing board, Companionship, Grounding...

6th: Virgo, Mercury, Yin, Ant, Crane, Praying Mantis, Work environment, Routine, Structure, Time, Patience, Health issues, Hygiene, Nervous system, digestive system, Pancreas, Gallbladder, Notebooks, Writing, Movies, Home, Relaxing, Forgiving, Generous, Social Life, Bonding, Practice, Foresight, Letting go, Stable, Helpful, Tense, Pressure, Negative thoughts, Reminisce, Addiction, Sorrow, Indecision, Indigestion, Saving Finances, Strong will, Codependency, Maturing, Realizing, Criticism, Self Honoring...

7th: Libra, Venus, Yin, Dragon Fly, Peacock, Marraige, Partnership, Contracts, Joint endeavors, Kidneys, Bladder, Blood, Caring what others think, Voice, Accent, Culture, Rebuilding, Learning new ways to do, Home decor, Learning gratitude, Giving, Reseveing, Welcome home, Comfort, Jot, Warmth, Spring, Flowers, New thought processes, Building Legacy, Defending yourself, Possessions, Slower living, Connecting to nature, Center of attention...

8th: Scorpio, Pluto, Mars, Yin/Yang, Vulture, Jaguar, Phoenix Death/Rebirth, Fears, Dark, Dreams, Escaping, Running, Hoarding, Lack, Homelessness, Strength, Stamina, Restart, Hard work paying off, Legacy, Against all odds, Elimination system, Pelvis, All the holes in the body, Burgundy, Purple, Black, Sex organs, Releasing worries, Manipulation, Smothering, Misunderstood, Coffee, Over giving, Partnership, Friendship, Sensuality, Secretion, Body odor, Roses, Fruit trees, Chapel, Railroad, Balancing, Power, Unseen forces, Intimidation, Relaxation...

9th: Sagittarius,Jupiter, Yang, Donkey, Whale, Shark, Liver, Legs, Posture, Religion, Long distance, Foreign travel, New ideas, Creative thoughts, Energy, Witty, Nomad, Idealistic, Larger than life, Focused on success, Friendship, Gatherings, Social Life, Relaxing, Luxury, Boundaries, Tired, Mental Illness, Restrictions, Insecurities, Grandparents, Quiet time, Relationships, Sharing, Attention, Harmony, Rebirth, Hard work, Getting over, Time, Late night thoughts, Male role model, Weight on your back, Responsibilities, Greedy, Guarded, Proud, Protection, Unique, Lavender...

10th: Capricorn, Saturn, Yang, Sheep, Alligator Honey Badger, Cactus, Sterile, Marble, White, Grey, Cold, Winter, Snow, Reputation, Social status, Farming, Popularity, Bones, Skin, Nails, Hair, Sharp, Leather, Goat, Structure, Skin conditions, Over explaining, Hard on others/yourself, Violin, Holding onto the past, Hard choices, Seeing others happen, Collecting, Finding purpose, Unique interest, Creative ways to make money, Standing up for yourself, Tunnel vision, Sharing, Networking, Group efforts, Working on love...

11th: Aquarius, Uranus, Yin/Yang, Moose, Mongoose, Snake, Friends, Parties, Organizations, Goals, Hopes, School, Science, mutable, unique style, Different friend groups, Water, Lakes, Rivers, Driving, Circulatory System, Pituitary glands, Changing course, Fear of change, Social media, Learning to stand alone, Trusting intuition, Defending loved ones, nonchalant, Increasing expectations, Std, Dead tree, Sticking it out, Elders, Community, Taking a stand, Protest, Elections, Politics, Numbers, Releasing restrictions...

12th: Pisces, Neptune, Yin, Fish, Birds, Friends, More to go around, Letting go, Releasing Past, Decor, Eye for style, Luxury, Opinionated, Energy field, Subconscious, Mountains, Fog, Spa, Skincare, Hygiene, Safety, Frienemies, Luck, Protection, Unprovided jealously, Foreign, Secret, Being watched, Self expression, Confidence, Talents, Anxiety, Depression, Breath, Dreams, Sleeping, Ufc/boxing, Always wanting more, Magician, Plants, Sunshine, Exotic, Target, Maturity, Completion...

[andy-15-07]

hi! I love your feyd rautha fics 🥰 can you write one where the reader is pregnant with his child, a female, and he’s upset and cold with the reader because she’s not a male heir? but then, when she’s born, he’s so transfixed by her beauty and just the fact that she’s his, and that he just melts and swears to kill anyone for her?

My precious one

masterlist ! pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader

Dune Masterlist

The halls of the fortress echoed with an air of tension as Y/n, heavily pregnant with Feyd Rautha's child, moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors. Feyd, the formidable heir to House Harkonnen, had been distant and cold ever since learning the gender of their unborn child. Tradition demanded a male heir, and Y/n's heart ached with the weight of disappointment as she faced the impending birth of a daughter.

"Y/n," Feyd's voice, usually smooth and commanding, was laced with discontent as he entered their chambers. "What use is a daughter to the House of Harkonnen? You were to bear me a son, a worthy successor."

Y/n's eyes welled with tears, but she fought to maintain her composure. "Feyd, she is still our child, a part of both of us. She will carry the blood of House Harkonnen."

He scowled, turning away. "A daughter will bring us nothing but weakness. I need an heir who can command respect, instill fear in our enemies. This changes everything."

As the days passed, Feyd distanced himself further, leaving Y/n feeling isolated and burdened. The weight of disappointment settled upon her like a heavy cloak, but she clung to the hope that when their daughter arrived, Feyd's heart would soften.

The day of reckoning came, the air thick with anticipation as Y/n went into labor. Feyd, though present, maintained a stoic silence, his eyes betraying the turmoil within. The labor was arduous, but when the cries of their newborn daughter filled the room, Y/n felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief.

"She's here, Feyd," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Our daughter."

Feyd's eyes met the tiny, squirming bundle in Y/n's arms, and for a moment, the hardness in his gaze softened. The baby girl had a delicate beauty that seemed to captivate him, a sight that defied his earlier expectations.

"What shall we name her?" Y/n asked, her heart swelling with love for their precious child.

"Feydra," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a tenderness that surprised them both.

Feydra's arrival sparked a transformation in Feyd. The once cold and distant heir was now consumed by an overwhelming protectiveness and love for his daughter. As he held her for the first time, his fingers traced the contours of her tiny face, and he couldn't help but marvel at her innocence.

"She's ours, Y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with awe. "I will do anything to protect her. No harm shall come to our Feydra."

From that moment on, Feyd became an attentive and devoted father. He would spend hours cradling Feydra in his arms, his stern countenance replaced by a softness that only she could evoke. The fortress, once a place of cold authority, became a haven for the blossoming love between father and daughter.

As Feydra grew, Feyd's determination to shield her from the harsh realities of their world intensified. He vowed to eliminate any threat that dared to cast a shadow over her, swearing to protect her with a fierceness that only a father's love could inspire.

One day, as father and daughter strolled through the fortress gardens, Feyd's eyes gleamed with an unspoken promise. "Feydra, my precious one, you are the future of House Harkonnen. No harm will befall you as long as I draw breath. I would destroy worlds to keep you safe."

Feydra, oblivious to the dangers that lurked beyond the fortress walls, gazed up at her father with adoration. In those moments, Feyd's heart swelled with a love that transcended bloodlines and tradition. The bond between father and daughter had forged a legacy that defied the expectations of House Harkonnen, proving that love could be a force more powerful than any political alliance or familial obligation.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Tethering Ties

Summary - Betrothed by the King's decree to repair a fractured royal lineage, neither finds joy in their union. Tensions flare at dinner, resulting in a violent altercation that leaves her injured. Aegon chooses an unconventional way to apologise, his mouth between her legs.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x Strong reader

Warnings - Sexual content (oral f!receiving), violence, mild language

Word count - 2485

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Her children are bastards and she is a whore."

The phrase slithered through the hallowed corridors of King's Landing like a serpent, venomous and unrelenting. It clung to my siblings and me like a second skin, an indelible mark of shame etched into our very souls.

I tried to ignore the whispers and stares, but their impact lingered, a heavy burden on my heart. 

My betrothed, Prince Aegon Targaryen, was displeased when he learned of the King's decision. Marrying his firstborn son to his firstborn granddaughter was intended to mend the fragile relationships within our family, but it brought him no joy.

As the carriage rumbled over the cobblestones, the Red Keep loomed ahead, its towering walls a reminder of past glories and present fears. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone. This was not just a homecoming, it was a return to the heart of a nest of vipers.

I accepted the hand of my brother, Jace who looked at me with a pitiful expression, which only deepened my misery. 

"Do not look at me as if I am a wounded pup," I murmured. "I refuse to wallow in despair."

Jace merely shrugged, unable to hide his concern. As I turned, I felt another arm slip into mine. It was my younger brother, Luke, his innocent brown eyes gazing up at me with unwavering trust. His presence was a small comfort.

There was no welcome party awaiting us upon our arrival, an absence that I expected. The grandeur of King's Landing seemed hollow, a silent testament to the tension that permeated the air. 

Instead, we were left to settle into our chambers, the hours dragging by until dinner, where the family would finally convene.

I absentmindedly fingered the pendant around my neck, a dragon, wrought in gold. It was a gift from my mother, a reminder of the legacy I was bound to but today, it felt more like a chain than a symbol of power.

As we entered the dining hall, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken animosity. The long table, laden with lavish dishes, seemed more like a battlefield than a place of familial gathering. 

My betrothed, Aegon, sat beside me, his face a mask of displeasure. Across from us sat my brothers, Jace and Luke.

"Princess," a voice called out, and my head shot up. My eyes turned to my grandsire, the King, who looked withered and worn. "I trust the journey from Dragonstone was well," he continued.

"Yes, Your Grace, the journey was well, tiring but well," I answered, and he smiled at me proudly.

My eyes flicked to my mother, who gave me a reassuring look and a tight-lipped smile. Not a single person in this room was entirely pleased with the arrangement the King had so eagerly requested.

This marriage was supposed to unite our fractured family, but all I could see were the chains it would bind me in. A future of duty, not of choice.

Next, I turned to the Queen, who was looking in my direction but not at me. Her expression was firm as she seemed to be scolding her son in a hushed tone, and he grumbled next to me.

"Princess, I hope you are well," he said, turning to me as his mother looked away. I held back a sigh, clearing my throat before responding. 

"Prince Aegon, it has been quite some time since we've last seen each other," I pointed out, my hand tightening around my chalice as he downed his drink in a single gulp, motioning for it to be refilled.

"Yes, that may have to do with the night your brother maimed mine," he said with a smile as if it were a simple jest.

"You are correct," I said, my grip on the chalice loosening as my confidence returned. "The same night the Queen demanded the eye of my brother in retaliation, the eye of a young boy simply defending himself from heinous accusations you informed your brother of,"

To my surprise, instead of getting angry, Aegon laughed, a loud, boisterous laugh that caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"I am glad to see that the match seems to be faring well," Viserys said, and all I could muster was a polite smile. If only he knew.

"I don't want this," I admitted quietly, feeling his scoff next to me. 

"And you think I do?" he retorted, his tone sharp as I rolled my eyes. 

"All I'm saying is that I am not going to be subdued," I added meeting his gaze head-on. He raised an eyebrow, urging me to continue.

"You may be a prince, but I am a princess," I asserted, my voice steady. "My mother is next in line for the Iron Throne, and if I wish it, I will be after her. I do not plan on being trapped in a castle, producing heirs," I finished, taking a deliberate sip of my drink.

"Oh, my sweet niece," Aegon began. "How you have grown, you do not know the joy it brings me to know my future wife is such a fierce and ambitious lady," he added sincerely.

"I quite appreciate the idea of having such a challenging partner," he whispered the words into my ear, his breath tickling my neck as he pulled away ever so slowly.

Aegon's expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something that spoke of more than just duty. Was it resentment? Regret? Or something more dangerous? I couldn't tell, and that uncertainty only deepened my unease.

Dinner continued in strained silence, the earlier tension still palpable. Each forced smile and stilted conversation was a reminder of the precarious nature of our situation. 

My mind wandered as time went on.

It didn't take long until dinner had come to an end, and the adults began to retire to their chambers. Only the younger members of the family were left behind, the room now significantly quieter. 

The tension, however, remained.

Aemond, ever the provocateur, fixed his one good eye on Luke, a predatory gleam in his gaze. He raised his goblet with a mocking smile. 

"To the arrangement of my brother Aegon and my niece," he began, his voice dripping with malice. "You have all grown into quite respectable, charming, strong individuals."

My eyes quickly flickered to Jace and Luke, sensing the tension mounting. Jace clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around his goblet, but it was Luke who reacted first.

"What did you say?" Luke's voice trembled with barely contained fury. 

He stood abruptly, knocking his chair back. Aemond's smirk widened, and he rose from his seat, towering over Luke. "You dare deny it?"

In an instant, Luke lunged at Aemond, fists flying. The room erupted into chaos as the two collided, their movements a blur of anger and violence. The sound of fists hitting flesh and furniture crashing to the ground filled the air.

"Enough!" I shouted, trying to intervene, but my voice was drowned out by the tumult.

Jace sprang to his feet, moving to pull Luke off Aemond, but the younger boy was relentless, his fury driving him forward. Aemond fought back with equal ferocity, a cruel smile playing on his lips even as he exchanged blows with Luke.

Before I could react, Aemond's arm swung out wildly, and his fist connected with my face. 

Pain exploded across my cheek, and I stumbled backwards, my vision blurring. Blood trickled from my split lip, and I could taste its metallic tang.

Aegon and Jace reacted simultaneously. Jace leapt at Aemond with a roar, fists flying, while Aegon pulled me back from the fray, his grip firm but gentle. 

"Stay back!" he insisted, his voice tight with anger.

The dining hall descended into utter chaos. Jace and Aemond were locked in a furious struggle, their movements wild and desperate. Aegon kept me shielded behind him, his eyes darting between the brawl.

"Are you alright?" Aegon asked urgently, his hand brushing against my bruised cheek. The anger in his eyes was mixed with worry, a stark contrast to his usual aloof demeanour.

"I'm fine," I managed to reply pushing him away, though my voice shook.

Aegon stepped forward, his presence commanding enough to momentarily halt the fight. 

"Enough!" he roared, grabbing Aemond by the shoulder and pulling him away from Jace.

Aemond struggled against Aegon's grip, but the arrival of the Kingsguard finally brought the brawl to an end. The guards separated the combatants, their stern faces brooking no argument.

"Luke, Jace, let's go," I demanded, grabbing both of their arms. 

I cast one final glance back towards the dining hall, where Aegon was engaged in conversation with Aemond. Aegon looked over at me, and all I could manage was a solemn shake of my head.

Tonight, the fragile peace had shattered, and the consequences were far from over.

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting its silvery glow as I stood in my chamber, tending to the wound on my face with a hot cloth. 

I couldn't stop the flood of conflicting emotions. Anger at Aemond, frustration with my brothers, and a deep, gnawing fear of what this marriage would truly mean. Aegon's unexpected tenderness only added to my confusion.

Just as I was about to press the fabric against my skin, a firm knock echoed through the room. With a resigned sigh, I set aside the cloth and moved to open the door.

To my surprise, Aegon stood before me as I swung the door wide.

"What do you want?" I asked curtly, annoyance evident in my tone, I turned away, expecting him to leave.

Instead, he stepped inside, ignoring my dismissal. 

"I am merely seeing if you are alright," he said, taking the cloth from my hands and guiding me to sit. He dabbed at my injury, his touch surprisingly tender.

Aegon's hand reached out, brushing against my bruised cheek. I flinched, pulling back instinctively. He chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in the sound. 

"Do not pretend to care," I snapped, hating the tremor in my voice. He didn’t retreat, just tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Alright," he admitted, his gaze unwavering. "I came to see you. It's been quite some time, hasn't it?"

"What are you really after, Aegon?" I demanded, fixing him with a sceptical glare.

"You've caught me," he replied smoothly, closing the distance between us. "It seems time has only sharpened your wit and beauty," he continued, his hand reaching out to caress my cheek.

"You've grown so beautifully over the years," he murmured, his voice sincere yet unsettling.

"All I wanted," he murmured, his tone laced with suggestive intent, "was to see how you feel, how you'd make me feel."

Without thinking, I reacted, my hand snapping across his face in a sharp slap. The sound echoed in the room, breaking the tense silence like a crack of lightning

He recoiled, a hand flying to his stinging face, while I stood there, a mixture of disbelief and indignation flooding my senses. My own hand flew to cover my mouth, stunned by both his brazenness and shock at my own action.

"Aegon," I murmured, my voice barely audible as he chuckled softly. "I didn't..." The words failed me, hanging in the air between us. 

He tilted his head, his jaw clicking before a slow smile spread across his face.

"Tell me to leave," he said, his voice a mix of challenge and invitation. I wanted to, truly, but the words stuck in my throat. 

"Tell me to stop, and I'll stop," he continued, taking another step closer, his gaze unwavering as it searched my face for any sign of resistance.

There was none.

"Okay," he murmured, his fingers threading gently through my hair. He loomed over me, a commanding presence as I sat in my chair.

Suddenly, he knelt before me, his hands hiking up my nightgown with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Tell me to stop," he repeated, his voice low and insistent. 

I shook my head, a barely audible "no" escaping my lips. His smirk deepened, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

His face disappeared between my legs, and he began trailing small, wet kisses along my inner thighs. The sensation sent shivers through me, making me squirm in my seat. I bit my lip, a soft moan escaping as his mouth moved closer to where I wanted him most.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and need. "Don't stop."

Encouraged by my words, Aegon intensified his efforts. He started by kissing the sensitive skin at the crease of my thigh, his lips soft and warm. His tongue flicked out, teasing me with light, fluttering touches. 

He took his time, exploring the area with a deliberate, languid pace, savouring every reaction he elicited from me. Each touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through my body, making me arch towards him, seeking more.

He moved closer, his breath hot against my skin, and then his mouth was on me. His tongue parted my folds, moving in slow, sensual circles around my clit. He alternated between gentle, teasing flicks and firm, insistent strokes, driving me wild with desire. 

I gasped, my hands flying to his head, my fingers tangling in his hair as I held him close, urging him on.

He was relentless, his mouth working skillfully, driving me to the edge again and again. My breaths came in ragged gasps as he sucked lightly, then harder, his tongue darting out to tease and tantalize. 

The intensity of the sensations built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure winding inside me, threatening to snap at any moment.

"Aegon," I moaned, my voice breaking as I teetered on the brink. 

He responded with a deep, satisfied hum, the vibration sending a jolt of ecstasy through me. His lips and tongue moved faster, more insistently, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

With a final, shuddering gasp, I fell over the edge, my body convulsing in pure ecstasy. He didn't stop, his tongue continuing its dance, drawing out my pleasure until I was utterly spent, collapsing back into the chair, breathless and trembling.

Aegon pulled away slowly, his eyes meeting mine with a smug, satisfied look. 

"Consider that an apology," he said, his voice a seductive whisper.

I nodded, unable to form words, my mind still reeling from the intensity of what had just transpired. His mouth was glistening with my release, and he licked his lips with a self-satisfied smirk.

With a final, lingering gaze, Aegon stood up, straightening his clothes with unhurried confidence. He turned and made his way to the door, each step deliberate, leaving me in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

I watched him leave, my body still thrumming with the aftermath of his touch. As the door closed behind him, I let out a long, shaky breath, trying to collect myself. My heart was still racing, my skin flushed with the memory of his mouth on me.

Leaning back in the chair, I closed my eyes, a slow smile spreading across my lips.

A/n - Aegon's idea of a "warm welcome" involves more than just a friendly handshake, he's just really into making an impression x

[vintagepublishing]

This year marks the 100th anniversary of James Baldwin, an iconic writer and activist who fearlessly delved into the intricacies of race, identity, class, and love. To honor his legacy, we’ve redesigned a few of Baldwin’s most celebrated novels, including this deluxe edition of Giovanni’s Room. In this novel, David, an American who has relocated to Paris, finds himself torn between his suppressed desires and society's conventional notions of morality, masculinity, and identity. Ahead of its time, Baldwin's narrative presents a poignant queer love story that lays bare the unspoken complexities of the human heart.

The cover of the new deluxe edition of Giovanni’s Room features a vibrant painting by Baldwin’s friend and contemporary Beauford Delaney. The edition also has a new introduction by writer Kevin Young. Check out some of the digital-only art we commissioned Tumblr artists to create to celebrate Pride and Baldwin’s Centenary on our page, and pick up this elegant repackage of a literary classic.

[ayo-edebiri]

The Grogu puppet improves every single year. And the legacy performers are always tinkering and finding ways to honestly allow the puppet to do as much practically as possible. The best direction we get is when they treat the puppet like it’s an actor. They tell it what to do and we’re all standing around to hear it. And we’re reacting to what the director wants. There’s an unspoken chemistry to this. He’s kind of got this personality of his own that we all understand.

Disney Gallery: The Mandalorian (season 3)

[911bts]

appleofhisai: Devastated.

Words….ever insufficient…none able to carry the harrowing heartbreak reverberating through our 9-1-1 family. As the industry processes the passing of one of our invaluable and invested individuals—notably loyal, thus lauded and loved for his commitment to his craft and sharing the wisdom he’d gleaned from decades of working in this industry, hearts are heavy navigating feelings of grief and gratitude for the life of Rico Priem.

The unsung heroes of our show, any show really, are the scores of crew members whose names seldom move from the back of call sheets to household names though they contribute an immense amount of time, talent, and tenacity to servicing the stories that fill our screens-small and large. Time that seems invisible to the untrained eye, but it is NOT. Our crews are the cornerstone of our community. Their individual effort and areas of expertise create a cumulative effect, ensuring the work we do, the characters we portray lands in the lives of audiences around the world. The crew is integral to the execution of every idea that begins in the minds of creative becoming long lasting memories and moments that live on in the hearts of humanity.

With each passing year, our 9-1-1 cast and crew have undoubtedly become a family. We strive to comfort and care for each other. We aim to welcome visitors with warmth. We hold one another up through hard times, and this certainly qualifies as a profoundly hard time.

Rico graced us with his presence and passion, before he passed away in the early morning hours on Saturday, May 11th. It is the hope and the unspoken assumption that when we wrap a days work, we will see each other again to do it all over again the next day. His passing has stilled our hearts and signaled for more conversation and care in that area.

In this moment, I want to express deep love for our crew, and give thanks and reverence for the legacy of Rico Priem. Whispering a gentle prayer to the sacred soft spaces within his family’s hearts that ache in his absence.

[wxstros]

Bonds Forged in Fire

In a world where dragons did not dance and Rhaenyra reigns unchallenged on the Iron Throne, her legacy endures through her three valiant sons, with the Targaryens having bowed to their rightful queen. You, a traveller in this medieval tapestry, have at last discovered the opportune moment to seek solace in Essos, intending to live out your days unburdened and free. No longer are you compelled to mend the fragile bonds among feuding cousins, having already nurtured a brotherhood among the Velaryon and Targaryen youths. Freed from the duty of attending to Alicent, appeasing your father Daemon, or strategizing for the benefit of the realm and its beloved Rhaenyra, you stand on the cusp of true retirement... or do you?

warnings: typical targcest/inc*st. DARK CHARACTERS; controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting. cursing. reader is a modern human. dance of the dragons did not happen. canon typical violence. yandere behavior!

pairings: hotd x reader, daemon targaryen x daughter!reader (platonic)

CHAPTER TWO: NO LONGER A FREE WOMAN

Quiet and Commanding. Graceful and Bloodthirsty — you were both the calmness of the sea and it's tempest. In a desperate act of survival, you reshaped the fate of Westeros; a no ordinary feat by all means, and you bore the scars of fabricating this delicate peace.

You sought to end a war before it grew to become one. Tearing the heart of the dragon so it no longer bore heads, you suffered the consequences of your meddling, self-preserving nature, from the curse of Targaryens.

Madness. Delusions. Paranoia..

Paranoia is ever common among people of power, and in your whimsical rendition of the present, you found yourself ensnared in the very web you sought to untangle.

Your knowledge of the succession of events was vital in its formative years; you were the weaver of histories yet unwritten, the keeper of secrets that shaped destinies. In the quiet chambers of the Red Keep, where whispers carried more weight than steel, you stood as a sentinel of wisdom amidst the unfolding of ambition and intrigue.

Once, you navigated the tapestry of Westerosi politics with a sure hand, guiding alliances and decisions that now lay woven into the fabric of a new era. But the future you once knew, predictable as the turning of seasons, now unfolded with unpredictable swiftness.

The absence of war reshaped the contours of power, leaving uncertainties where once there were certainties... and you had become one of it's unfortunate casualties.

"If I may speak, my lady," she began, her voice a whisper that hung in the air like the fragrance of roses in bloom. You turned to face her, your expression calm yet attentive, silently inviting her to share the secrets that threaded through the underbelly of courtly life. A strategically placed informant, a madame you kept in your good graces, for her valuable informations.

With practiced ease, you gestured for her to continue as you returned to your preparations, the delicate clink of jewelry punctuating the quiet conversation between you. The madame hesitated, her words measured and cautious, betraying the weight of the information she carried.

"I've come upon certain... revelations," she finally ventured, her tone laden with the gravity of her disclosure. She recounted, with a waver in her countenance, the princes' preferences— their specific demands echoing through the chambers like whispers of scandal. Each word revealed a world hidden behind closed doors, where fantasies intertwined with the obligations of royalty and it's stifling constraints.

Your hands paused momentarily, the silver earrings poised between your fingers as you absorbed the implications of her words. You feared the unspoken consequences of such desires. One that transcended the boundaries of rank and decorum, casting shadows upon the noble facade that adorned the princes in public.

"They call for you," she had confessed in a hushed tone, her eyes troubled yet resolute. "Not just any women, but those with your likeness. They cry out your name in the throes of passion, seeking to recreate a semblance of what they know in the sanctity of their chambers."

With a nod of dismissal, the madame withdrew, leaving the chamber with a bow of deference. Alone once more, you resumed your preparations, the morning light seeming dimmer now as you contemplated the delicate balance between power and discretion within the heart of the Red Keep. Yet, the madame's parting words lingered, her voice tinged with an urgency that unsettled you.

"Forgive me, if you must call me insolent." she had said, her eyes wide with concern, "Leave this place once you get the chance. These princes... they are not what they seem. Their love is a dangerous thing."

The weight of her warning wasn't missed, nor unrewarded. Leave, she said. And you almost wept at your desire to do so. The thought of escape had always been present, but now it seemed more pressing, more necessary.

The Targaryen madness... a curse that had plagued their bloodline for generations, was not a mere myth. It was a living, breathing beast that lurked within the halls of the keep, a beast that had ensnared even the most unsuspecting hearts.

The tales of their ancestors, the whispers of dragons and fire, echoed in your thoughts.

You had seen the cracks in their facades, the fleeting moments when the mask slipped, revealing the turmoil beneath. It was in the soft utterance, in a mad whisper of devotion.

with me, no harm shall come your way; rhaenyra, whispers.

i would kill anyone who tries to take you from me; daemon, vows.

you must always have me in your heart. it must have only me; aegon pleads.

It was devotion that threatened to consume you. It was in the quiet plea for acceptance. It was in the vulnerable displays, where the attachment grew into something you could no longer control.

never leave me; jacaerys utters with conviction.

tell me you need me; aemond, grips you.

tell me you love me; heleana whispers.

tell me you're mine...

The madness was not just in their blood; it was in their very souls, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf all who drew too close.

As you finished your preparations, you pondered your next step. To outmaneuver the most powerful people in the realm; to extricate yourself from their grasp, required more than just cunning. It required a keen understanding of the intricate dance of power and madness that played out within these walls.

As you stepped into the corridor, the weight of the madame's warning heavy upon your shoulders, you knew that your journey was far from over. The road ahead was treacherous, but with each step, you inched closer to the freedom that lay beyond the reach of the dragon's fire.

The small council was filled with nobles loyal to Rhaenyra's claim. People who were wise, honest, and unbearably scheming. Aemond was among the council, a concession to allow for unity and to placate those who supported his family. Yet, his presence was more than strategic; Aemond had always been smart and decisive, qualities that made him a valuable asset in matters of governance and warfare. His sharp mind and keen insights often cut through the labyrinth of political machinations, bringing clarity and resolution to complex issues.

Jacaerys, the crown prince, also held a seat on the council. As Rhaenyra's eldest son, it was imperative that he learn the intricacies of rule and the delicate balance of power within the realm. His participation was both an educational experience and a symbol of continuity, showing that the future of the realm was in capable hands. Though Aemond and Jace had a fraught history, they had reached a tenuous truce, understanding the necessity of cooperation for a shared cause. Their interactions were civil, even if not genuinely friendly, a testament to their shared commitment to the greater good.

Aegon, noticeably absent from the meeting, was occupied with securing an allegiance with a rich noble visiting. His transformation from a reckless youth to a responsible leader was a surprising deviation from the expected path, proving that even the most unlikely individuals could rise to the occasion when the realm demanded it.

Where there was once dignified discussions had unravelled into a heated one...

"A marriage allegiance, to the North?" Daemon repeats incredulously, a frown marring his features at the absurd suggestion from one of the lords in the small council.

The man, while relatively small in stature, held his stance despite receiving hostile glares from multiple pairs of scathing gazes. He was certain they wished to command his head off, but the loyalty to your cause remains in him. "The princess is of the right age to marry; it would strengthen our ties with the North and ensure their loyalty," the lord persisted.

Aemond tensed, repressing the urge to draw his sword and cut the insolent bastard's tongue for his brazen suggestion. His dear, sweet cousin, would not debase herself to a mere wolf when she had the blood of a dragon coursing through her veins!

Jace had a similar, quiet indignation. You would not marry to distant mountains, let alone to a foreign man. It was one thing to share your affections among their family, an entirely different one, should it be directed to another entirely.

Rhaenyra, at the head of the council, was first to voice her dissent, her expression calm yet resolute. "The realm is at peace. What need have we for an alliance with the North? We do not need to complicate matters with alliances that may bring more harm than good."

"Peace reigns now, the future is uncertain. Strengthening our ties with the North ensures stability in times of unforeseen turmoil. The marriage alliance is a precautionary measure, one that could safeguard the realm," the lord insisted, gathering murmurs of support around the table.

Daemon slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming. "We have dragons! We should be the ones feared, not groveling for alliances like beggars. The North should be seeking our favor, not the other way around. This talk of marriage is a distraction, a needless concession."

"We do not need to rally more support. Our house is strong enough without resorting to such measures," Jacareys adds, stoic though his eyes blazed with unspoken fury.

The defiance in the room was palpable, a wall of resistance against the idea of your marriage to a northerner, the famed Cregan Stark warden of the North.

Every time the notion of marriage was presented, they always had an excuse, a reason to dismiss it. Their hatred for the idea was unmistakable, rooted in their desire to keep you close, to maintain the unity of the family within the confines of King's Landing.

You never much bothered to disagree. Marriage was never your priority; you were trying to stave off the extinction of the Targaryens, where could you find the energy and time to please a husband?

However, this time, you decided to break the pattern.

"I agree," you said, your voice steady and calm. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to you in shock.

"You what?" Daemon's voice was low, dangerous, a silent threat hung in the air as if begging you to repeat your agreement.

"I admire Cregan Stark," you continued, ignoring the rising tension. "He is known to be handsome, domineering, strong, and capable. Such a match would be beneficial for our house."

And he lives in the desolate cold. Far from King's Landing. Come winter, and no dragon, however mighty, could cross its threshold.

Rhaenyra was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Daemon's face turned a deeper shade of red, his anger barely contained. Aemond and Jace looked as though they were on the verge of losing their composure, their fists clenched tightly.

"You would leave for the North?" While emotionless and composed, Aemond was anything but.

"This is absurd. You can't possibly mean this," Jace added, his tone equally tense.

You met their gazes with unwavering resolve. "This alliance is strategic. It ensures the realm's continued prosperity and stability. It is a decision made for the greater good."

Daemon's expression darkened, his frustration palpable as he struggled to reconcile his paternal instincts with sound reason, and not violent tendencies. He thiught it much easier to wield a sword and conquer cities.

"Whoever wove these tales, planting fairy-tale notions of a prince charming into my daughter's head, is a deceiver. They think they can trick her, make her believe in an idyllic fantasy. My daughter is naive and innocent in their eyes, easy to sway. But I will find this manipulator and have his head for daring to poison her mind with such nonsense!" He uttered, voice laced with venom, a final threat to whoever disagreed with his judgement— Daemon thought you naive, and gullible to suggestion, believing it was not your own will, but a treacherous cunt's ideas.

Afterall, you would never desire to leave him; your poor father... and the rest, whoever they may be. He still has no idea which was whom; he kept a tally of one or two silver haired kid, and the rest were lost to him.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her composure returning as she placed a hand on the table, grounding herself.

"We must weigh all options, think of the ramifications. A marriage... it is not a decision to be taken lightly."

Despite her words, you knew her mind was already made up. She had always been fiercely protective, and the idea of you leaving King's Landing, leaving her side, was something she could not easily accept.

The path to freedom was fraught with peril, but you had come too far to falter now. Your nod to the Arryn lord, was subtle— indicating he back down from his duel of wits. It was an issue for another day. Rhaenyra had made it so.

With a determined breath, you resolved to tread carefully, to gather the strength and allies needed to break free from the chains that bound you.

The Targaryen curse was a formidable foe, but you were no stranger to battles fought in the shadows.

***

do comment if you want to get tagged! 💗☺️

[flowerish-cherry-blue]

book recommendation list #1

• the lynburn legacy by sarah rees brennan [ya]

• the coldest girl in coldtown by holly black [ya]

• the illuminae files by amie kaufman, jay kristoff [sci-fi]

• sputnik sweetheart by haruki murakami [fiction novel]

• the raven and other poems by edgar allan poe [poetry&horror]