#v: queen of ashes

[joyfulmagic]

Relta core

[fantasiesandfolklore]

V: Queen of Ashes — Vilified Phoenix Queen Verse Info [Part II of II]

[Continuing from here]

In the thirtieth year of Relta’s reign, at age 55 but appearing around 30 still, and her living daughter’s twentieth year, Relta’s daughter brought an undead army up against Relta, being a powerful necromancer like her deceased aunt. Relta, unable to cut down the number of soldiers in this undead army, had to surrender to her daughter

Fennel, Relta’s only living daughter, was forced to kill her mother and many of the Lunaruzian soldiers in order to save Lunaruz from falling further into unrest and isolation. She had to severe Relta’s head to ensure her death, and was coronated by the High Priestesx of Persephone on the battlefield

Fennel’s reign ended up restoring Lunaruz to the glory it was meant to see under Queen Relta’s regency and reign.

Fennel also separated Lunaruz from the rest of the world, putting it in a pocket dimension so it could heal undisturbed. Magic was used to get goods needed via trade, magic now flourishing in the kingdom rather than being reserved for royals and elite religious figures.

Fennel found that she was immortal, and remained monarch until Lunaruz was healed so that she could ensure it went properly and in her mother’s vision from her pre-madness days

Fennel steps down from the throne at over one-hundred-and-twenty years old, appearing only in her 60s, and literally destroyed the throne and built the foundations of a democracy as her final act during her rule.

She was also able to revive the siblings, cousins, and aunts that were killed to full life, allowing them to have the lives they wished for.

Queen Fennel had a consort, but no heirs as her sole consort was AFAB and she never planned to continue the monarchy. However, she adopted her youngest sibling that was born when Relta was late in her reign by her latest lover. This sibling ended up becoming a high ranking judge in the Lunaruzian royal court system, and a just judge at that.

Fennel, as queen, also brought back freedom of religion, and ended the royal bloodline’s connection to divinity in order to prevent “old wayers” who wished to restore the monarchy after her retirement due to the divine nature of the monarchy.

Relta’s lovers, including Lord Keife, were all pardoned by Queen Fennel…if still alive.

[polarf0x]

Curse, Retribution, and Death.

This is not at all a new work that I did for the competition. It's reminds me in many ways that there is more to strive for, more to explore. But mostly, it reflects my love for the characters of this group.

Also, I'm new here on this site, and I'll try to develop my social skills a little and post a variety of content. Enjoy.

[gloryride]

Beach Pinup

[clockworkbee]

When Elias Veturius changed his grandfather's mantra to one of his own for Laia, and when Kell Maresh used the antari commands to teach them to Lila but also make love to her, and when Julian Blackthorn used the very parabatai vows' that forbid love to defy them and express his love physically to Emma and when Cardan Greenbriar kind of begged Jude to lie to him when he always dreamed of that coming from her? That's EVERYTHING to me 🤌🏼

[whenwewereyoung97]

I thought it would be a good idea to map out all of the books I have preordered.

Spoiler alert: it was not a good idea. This is torture.

I will be checking this every day.

[ircnwrought]

@wickedpeachie (rowan) liked for a short ttpd inspired starter (aelin) !!

__________△         FIRE     BURNS     BENEATH     HER     SKIN,        UNSPENT     MAGIC     ROILING     THROUGH     HER     VEINS     &&     THREATENING     TO     TURN     HER     TO     ASH.      from    the    inside    out.     this   body   is   not   her   own     (     rebuilt,     reforged   to   suffer   at   maeve's   command     )     minutes   blur   into   hours  &&    she   cannot   possibly   outrun   the   onslaught   of   her   emotions   after   so   long.     ❛    you   were   gonna   come   find   me.  ❜     voice   cracks.     the    one    truth    she    held    onto.     perhaps    if    she    repeats    it    enough,     she    will    not    have    to    admit    it    was    a    dimming    hope    as    the    days    wore    on.     ❛    you   were   gonna   come   find   me.  ❜

[seagullcharmer]

me: looking at the xenoblade art book, various heart to hearts, excerpts from the script, etc

me: [squints at metal face]

me: borg queen.........

[fischotterkunst]

Orpheus' novels appearing in Ashes of Memory Part 1 (click for full size)

[stormbcrn]

FINGERS TOYED WITH THE CROWN, warped steel had been hammered until it shone again but the detailing of the sword's hilt had been respected. Carved dragons adorned the blade (its edge now made dull enough to be suitable to wear) and were only seen when tilted against the light – Daenerys could see the care that went into its design. She had not known that any of the swords once comprising the iron throne had survived the dragonfire – or had he only used the melted metals to craft something entirely new ??? Lilac eyes rose to meet the blue of her king, something akin to love or gratitude written on her lips. "You made this for me ???"

@sinamor sent pink for gendry baratheon 💖

[world-of-wales]

What do you mean by full George V?

So I was comparing Margrethe's discussion to take the titles away to THE Letters Patent of the BRF.

George V issued a letters patent in 1917 which restricted the use of the title of Prince/Princess and the style of 'HRH Prince/Princess of the UK' to the children of the monarch and the eldest son of the Prince of Wales and nobody else.

So a number of relatives like cousins etc lost their 'HRH Prince/Princess' titles with that back then. They went from being 'HRH so&so' to just their Hereditary titles of Duke, Earl, etc overnight thanks to George V.

As per this only George would have been an HRH when born so the Queen made an ammendment to this in 2012 and issued her own Letters Patent which extended the title and style His/Her Royal Highness and Prince/Princess of the United Kingdom to all the children of the Prince of Wales’s eldest son. Thus Lottie and Lou-Lou got their styles.

This is the same letters patent which two certain someones love to base the argument for 'Prince/Princess' titles for their kids on.

And Daisy's too essentially done the same thing as George V today by taking Joachim' kids Prince and Princess titles away.

[starsallalight]

Open to ships or mutuals

"Can..." Ella began, swallowing thickly. "Can there ever be a time when breaking a promise is the right thing to do? What if it's the only thing you can do?"

[fantasiesandfolklore]

The Phoenix Queen — Relta’s Sexuality [NSFW] [Part I of ?]

TW: B/D/S/M Quiz Results under the read more

== Results from bdsmtest.org == 100% Brat 100% Degradee 100% Masochist 100% Rigger 100% Rope bunny 100% Sadist 100% Switch 96% Submissive 93% Dominant 79% Master/Mistress 76% Experimentalist 69% Degrader 68% Primal (Hunter) 62% Primal (Prey) 55% Slave 50% Owner 49% Brat tamer 32% Vanilla 14% Exhibitionist 11% Voyeur 10% Pet 0% Ageplayer 0% Daddy/Mommy 0% Boy/Girl 0% Non-monogamist

[felinoir]

tag drop 2.

[arcielee]

Ābrazȳrys

Summary: Aemond goes to see if the king is truly dead and finds his wife instead. Paring: dark!Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader Word Count: 1900+ Warnings: MDNI, dark[ish]!Aemond, Reader AFAB, noncon elements, ghostly voyeurism? rough sex, p in v unprotected, creampie, breeding kink when you squint. Author’s Note: So, this is not for the poll I just had, but something that came from rambling with my muses [thank you lovelies]. This is dedicated to @namelesslosers whose recent piece already had my mind thrumming with dark!Aemond ever since I read your story. Thank you, Mari, this is mostly your fault. 😆 Not beta read, my mistakes are my own and I am woefully sorry for them all. Also, Sȳz ābrazȳrys is Valyrian for good wife.

An accord was struck between the Warden of the North and King Viserys; you were then packed to be sent away to the capital, to wed his second son, Prince Aemond. Your purpose, you learned, was to placate the growing rift within the house of the dragon, but you soon realized it was not something that could be easily mended. 

Aemond was complexity carved from marble, both beautiful and statuesque as the blood of Old Valyria was rumored to be. You saw his ire was not unfounded when the crowned princess had returned to flaunt her sins at her side, their tousled dark hair as bold as the crimson curve that cut through the left side of your husband’s face. 

You felt the shift, saw the hatred now etched onto his sharp features at the sight of them. “Bastards,” he had murmured loud enough for you to hear. His tone was dark, his hold on your hand stopping the blood from reaching your fingertips.

The tension brought with their arrival was palpable, weaving through the Red Keep and pouring into the Small Hall where dinner was held, as per the king’s request. The pleasantries seemed forced and it ended with a scathing toast, an outburst, and when you tried to follow after Aemond, he had been quick to dismiss you.

You often struggled to find your place in King’s Landing. Aemond was courteous, but cold; both diligent and disinterested in the same breath. He treated you as his duty and it left your heart aching for more. It could not be sated with his family: Aegon was too lost in his cups, as was Helaena but with her dreams, and you had never met the youngest prince, as he was tucked away at Oldtown. 

This left you to shadow the queen, which was how you now found yourself quietly at her side, your gaze accompanying her own–her brown eyes were wide and wet and fearful all at the same time. Her handmaiden had brought you to her quarters to hear it firsthand: the king was dead. Now you watched as the Silent Sister finished the wrappings on the body. 

There was an attempt to mask the smell of death with the tapers lit, with the cloves and fresh herbs crushed for a smoldering incense that curled upwards into the air, but the lifelessness remained, prominent still. You could only assume it was something so intricately knitted with the late king, a man who had lingered so long on the precipice that life had long rotted away before he had taken his final breath. 

Alicent waited until they left before she took the crown and placed it on top of the body. You watched her shudder with a choked grief, her hands pressing onto the altar to hold herself upright until she could regain her queenly composure. She then excused herself without a word, leaving you alone with the dead. 

The body in front of you was not your family, but only your king. Your own unshed tears were from the fear you felt, from the loss that would come with the inevitable civil war; you saw flashes of red from the blood to be spilled, black from the ash that would rain over the kingdoms. 

“He is even smaller in death.” 

You knew the voice, so low but it still wrenched the air from your lungs. You looked up to see your husband poised in the doorway. “It is something that comes for us all, it is inescapable,” Aemond finished, his eye now trained to you.

It seemed a murmured thought and you were uncertain if he would continue it, uncertain if the words spoken were even meant for your ears to begin with. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry from the smoke. “My husband,” your voice cracked with compassion, “I am so sorry–”

“I am not.” 

It cuts through you, halting your tongue. You watched him carefully, warily, as his lips curled upwards. “For too long I have watched him slowly wither beneath the crown handed to him by a council,” and he looked back to the altar, a bitterness brewing. “He hid behind some want for a faux peace, but only because he lacked the conviction and the spine to speak the truth.” 

His tone clipped, his smile now cruel and cutting into his cheeks as he stepped towards you with his slow, distinct gate. You remained rooted, unwilling to wilt under the weight of the harsh truth that could now be spoken out loud and without repercussions. 

You tried again: “Are you certain of this? Of her misdeeds–?”

This time your voice caught once he was close enough for his fingers to trail along the side of your face, coming to cup your cheek and hold your gaze. His palm was callused from his sword, but gentle to touch, igniting a warmth that pooled towards your core. Your eyes flickered over his smile that remained, your breath knotting in your throat as you realized how tall he now stood, as if a weight had been removed from him. 

“Ābrazȳrys,” he murmured, his hold now moving to curl behind at the base of your neck and pull you closer to him. Your hands touched his chest, falling into him and his heat, his sandalwood and smoke, the amber scent that belonged so intimately to Aemond. 

You burned from his direct attention, something you had pitifully sought after since you arrived, and it was now being handed alongside the corpse of the king. 

And it felt so wrong.

His finger curled under your chin, tilting your head back to look at him. “Perhaps if I put a babe in your belly, you can see how strong the blood of dragon truly is.” 

And yet–

“Aemond,” you gasped as his other hand moved to clasp around your elbow, pulling you closer until his mouth captured your own. 

The room swam in smoke; you felt drunk from the warmth of his lips and with the way his hands roamed your backside, pulling you flushed against his chest. You could feel the swell of his cock pressing against the seams, a heat that permeated through and spread to ignite your nerve endings. 

You sighed sweetly with how you fit against his chest and Aemond deepened the kiss with a desperation that you matched against your own volition. Your arms lifted to wrap around his neck, pulling yourself closer still, and Aemond let out a low groan, a vibration that trilled and tightened in your core. 

“Aemond, we should leave…” 

His passion would not be abated and instead his mouth claimed yours again. Aemond wrapped his arms around your waist to lift you and pull you away from the dead with staggering steps back towards the enclave of bay windows the sun streaked through. His large hands tore through your layers to touch the soft divot between your thighs, until the pads of his fingers pressed to the wet patch that was growing; he hummed. 

You broke away and his mouth then latched to the curve of your neck, biting you, marking you, his passion reborn from the tips of his teeth. You cried out from the mixture of pleasure and pain, your body betraying you with how it responded, with how it craved for more. 

You tried again: “Aemond, we mustn’t–” 

His hand caught your jaw with a hold that dimpled into your cheeks. “You must know by now that the walls are thick, as my ancestors designed them to be,” his eye looked over your kiss-swollen lips and the blood that was staining your features. “Also, the dead also cannot hear us.” 

Aemond then surged against you; you could not fight back, you would not fight back. Instead, your hands balled into his tunic to balance yourself, to return the kiss until all the air left your lungs. You felt his smile against your mouth, his arms returning to snake around your waist and guide until you fell down to the rug that covered the floor; a delicious contrast of the warmth he emitted to the cold of the cobblestone beneath you. 

He rucked your skirts up around your waist, his hand moving to pull away the small clothes intimately wrapped around before he slotted himself between your thighs. You felt his length grind against your bare cunt and you gasped, only for the sound to be swallowed with another heated kiss that seared the blood now coursing through your veins. 

Aemond paused to look down at you. His hair spilled silver in the sunlight and he watched your corset push against your cleavage, the desperate rise and fall to catch your breath. His one arm propped himself up while the other tugged away at the strings laced at his crotch; your fingers slipped into his loosened waistband, pulling it down until his cock was freed. His fingers then wrapped around his base, flushed crimson with his passion, and you nearly cried as he rubbed his swollen head along your folds, silken with your arousal.

His arms caged you and he pushed into you, filling you with his slow thrusts to fit, until he was fully sheathed within your cunt. Your lips parted wordlessly as your pleasure began to kindle with the slow roll of his hips, something that spread towards the ends and returned to build within your core. 

You mewled as his paced quickened, the wet sounds of bare skin suctioning as he fucked you into the rug, bruising your backside against the stone with each snap of his hips; you lifted to cant your own, welcoming the bruising pace. You were breathless, your walls fluttering with the first waves of pleasure coiling tightly at the base of your spine.

“Touch yourself,” he rasped, his breath hot against the curve of your neck.

You hand moved between with a fumbling touch to your pearl, swollen and wet and wanting. The pressure was enough to elicit another cry from you, the tears pearling earlier now spilling. Aemond saw this with the black that possessed his eye and his head dipped to lick your tears; his murmured, “Sȳz ābrazȳrys,” scorching against your skin.

It burst forth with flashes of white, a euphoria brimming on too much as his pace continued, until he was spilling and pulsing within your velvet walls. His weight then rested against you, his head turning to place a sweet kiss to your neck before he pulled away to stand, reaching to bring you back onto unsteady feet. 

You swayed a moment and he grabbed you, waiting until you met with his stare. Your eyes were wet as they rolled from him and took in your surroundings; you let out a shaky exhale when you saw the body that had been prepared. 

Aemond let go to tuck himself away and then stepped to block your view. He leaned forward to press a kiss to your hairline; your lashes were clumped together from your tears shed, wet against your cheeks when you closed your eyes, savoring the softness of his lips. 

“We will win,” his confidence now laced his low tone. He repeated: “Do not worry, we will win.” 

And then he left you alone with the dead, with nothing but the remnant pulsing sensation of the pleasure he took, his pearly spend now spilling down between the insides of your legs. 

Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes

arcie's masterlist

[houseofhyde]

⏤ another man, series masterlist.

pairing. aemond targaryen x fem!reader

series synopsis. a wolf and a dragon. a queen and a prince. lady stark and aemond targaryen. a marriage should keep them apart. lust draws them together. when one agrees to tutor the other in the many ways of pleasure, a countdown towards their mutual downfall begins. ( each chapter features individual synopses. )

series warnings. canon divergence (the greens win the war), brother-in-law!aemond, stark!reader (though there is no mention of her skin tone, hair colour, etc...) no use of y/n, slow burn, mutual pining, forbidden love, infidelity, sexually inexperienced reader, emotionally stunted aemond, themes of infertility/pregnancy, aegon is a shit husband, angst, fluff, & lots of smut. ( each chapter features individual warnings. )

series wordcount. 52.7k (so far )

a word from hyde. this series features my own reimagining of events pre, during, and post the dance of the dragons, along with my own interpretations of the characters. if you yourself do not like the featured canon divergence or find my portrayal of aemond (or any other canon character) to be ooc, please kindly skip over this series. this series does not have a taglist.

read on ao3. listen to the playlist.

i. another man’s feast. ( 3.5k )

chapter synopsis. aemond has only ever wanted to take care of you. too bad you’re married to his neglectful brother.

ii. another man’s comfort. ( 16.1k )

chapter synopsis. a wedding calls you north, your duty calls you to your husband, your heart calls you to aemond.

iii. another man’s pleasure. ( 13.6k )

chapter synopsis. a pregnancy, a nameday and a drunken evening make for a dangerous concoction between the one-eyed dragon and the royal wolf.

iv. another man’s pain. ( 19.4k )

chapter synopsis. a visit to dorne goes awry as an unexpected visitor arrives, tensions between in-laws come to ahead at last.

v. another man's legacy. ( coming septermber )

chapter synopsis. nothing goes to plan as prince aemond calls all forth with fire in their blood to dragonstone with promise of a grand announcement.

vi. another man’s jealousy. ( coming october )

chapter synopsis. a vicious rumour spreads through the court, forcing the prince to prove just how green he can be.

vii. another man's promise. ( coming november )

chapter synopsis. in the warmth of summer, hope blooms. but how long until it wilts?

viii. another man’s wrath. ( coming december )

chapter synopsis. a bloodied gown, a funeral pyre, a pile of ashes. in his wrath, her mercy prevails.

ix. another man’s view. ( coming january )

chapter synopsis. aegon confronts the sin of his kin.

x. another man’s love. ( coming february)

chapter synopsis. lady stark learns that, sometimes, to love is to lose.

xi. another man’s exile. ( coming march )

chapter synopsis. the time has come where even a dragon must flee.

xii. another man’s wife. ( coming april )

chapter synopsis. the song of wolf and dragon comes to an end.