#whom she wishes had never been born

[dontbotherwiththepronunciation]

Oh, insomnia thoughts my loathed loves

Anyway, I was reading something about motherhood in ASOIAF and the text mentioned how if Cat were to decide between saving the life of Jon Snow or one of her kids, she would obviously choose her own kid. I think that's correct and fair, I doubt most mothers wouldn't do the same. But then I started wondering what if the question wasn't between Jon and one of her kids, but between Jon & Theon.

So, simply because I'm curious I wanted to pose a hypothetical situation where for some reason Jon & Theon are both in equal danger of mortal peril and Cat has the option to save one but by doing so the other would 100% die. Who would she choose then? I'm genuinely curious because I started picturing who she would choose between Jon & Robin Arryn or Jon & Beth Cassel and could come to a more or less stable conclusion but this time I'm lost.

Because she doesn't like any of them, but allowing for any of their deaths would probably haunt her.

She hates Jon as the symbol of her shame but she knows her most of her children love him deeply and so does Ned. Allowing for him to die under her care would probably drive them away and some might even think she would have taken joy in the act since it was more or less well-known how much she loathed that boy. Allowing for him to die would also secure her children's place as true Starks, something that has never been disputed by anyone but she seems to resent and fear even before Robb was crowned King in the North

On the other hand, she was never very fond of Theon either and neither were most of her loved ones. The only person in the Stark household who seemed to have had a more-or-less affective relationship with Theon was Robb, and even in that relationship there was distance (partially due to the age difference but even more so because of the power imbalance between them) and even if there is affection there, Robb is also very loving of Jon. Due to Theon being a highborn noble and the heir of his house it seems like a horrible political decision to let him die and one that could give a more than plausible reason for the Greyjoys to rebel once again and probably more motivated by vengeance (at least to her perception) than they have ever been. I also can't help but wonder if she'd sympathise with Alannys. There are no indications of her confinement and madness being known by other westerosi nobles, but I think Cat probably would have known of her two killed sons and might have felt so much for her.

Also, if you want to expand with more than simply voting and telling me your reasoning or whatever you're welcome to do so.

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!emperor with empress!reader scenario

warnings: infidelity, obsessive behavior, blackmail, non-con, regicide.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome to my first yandere fic! Before we dive in, I want to let you know a couple of things; firstly, this is not the prologue of a series and never will be one because I simply do not have the time right now. It is a scenario, a prompt, that was inspired by the Fallen Kingdom series created by @cassanderasblog. I will leave a link to their work here. I credit them for giving me inspiration and being honest in their feedback when I showed them the initial draft. Credit also goes to @faux-ecrivain for helping finish a difficult scene.

Finally, please do not comment on here if you wish to harass me in some shape or form. I do and will not tolerate bullying. As the saying goes, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all." If it does happen, however, I will have no choice but to remove this scenario as soon as possible.

So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy :)

Yandere!Emperor had despised you with his heart and soul. The only reason he had allowed the marriage to even happen was to solidify the alliance between his nation and yours. He did not love you. The woman who held his heart, the one whom he trusted above everyone else in the world is Tatiana Adreeva. His mistress. A beautiful flower that should never be polluted by the nobles who dare to not allow her to become the Empress simply because she lacked the status equal to his own prior to ascension. You did. 

Yandere!Emperor did not lay a hand on you after the vows had been exchanged in the temple. He did not seek out your company, preferring to seek comfort in Tati’s bed and her arms. He had his crown, his woman, and allocated more power through his marriage with you. It was nothing personal. He simply did what he had to do so that his Empire would continue to prosper. 

Yandere!Emperor would not tolerate any rudeness targeted toward his lover, even if you had not uttered a single word to her at all or raised your hand against her.

 To him, ignoring her when she greeted you was enough to earn a lengthy lecture from him. 

But you did not cling to him or beg for mercy, as he thought you would do, or any other self-respecting maiden who did not want to anger her husband. You coldly stared at him with that, silent as the grave until he dismissed you from his office. Out of spite, he had his aide add more documents to your desk for the next month even when the work was not part of the Empress’ official duties. 

To his joy, Tatiana became pregnant with his child, his heir. Being by her side was suddenly all that mattered to Yandere!Emperor. His overprotective streak and ill temperament increased over time. He would lash out at you for the smallest of incidents, even if it was not your fault. And like before, you did not react to his words and continued with your life. 

Like what happens to him or with his mistress is none of your concern unless it is associated with the Empire and the citizens. As it should be. He did not marry you out of love. 

When the child was born, a healthy baby boy christened Nikolov, Yandere!Emperor held a banquet and invited ambassadors from neighboring kingdoms to celebrate. But it was on this day….that he knew the truth. 

Once he had made the necessary greetings and made sure the captain of the guards would immediately report anything suspicious or if Tati and Nikolov were in any danger, Yandere!Emperor retreated to his office. He looked over the stack of documents on his desk, trying to lessen his workload in the morning so that he could spend time with his Tati and his son.

Upon hearing a knock at the door, he did not look up from the outline of a treaty as he allowed the third person to enter his office without cutting off their fingers. His mistress, the head butler, and his advisor. Tati’s older brother, Marquis Aizel Adreeva. Yandere!Emperor had bought the highest status that he could give to his mistress’ family after receiving positive confirmation that Tati was truly pregnant and not a misdiagnosis.

Aizel smiled, closing the door behind him with his foot as he set down a tray, placing two silver goblets and a bottle of wine on the corner of his desk. He spoke softly, congratulating Yandere!Emperor on finally having an heir and making his sister the happiest woman in the world. He poured the wine into the goblets. He held one in his hand, and extended his other hand to the Glorious Son, Blessed by the Five Gods.

Yandere!Emperor smiled, taking the offered drink. They raised their goblets high in the air, and drank. Yet when Yandere!Emperor looked at Aizel…his merry smile was not right. Not the kind of joy that a new uncle would express at a nationwide celebration. It was tighter, almost anticipating something…to happen.

That was when he realized the wine tasted bitter. That was when the room began to spin, and it felt like his skull being split in half. Poison. He had been betrayed. Yandere!Emperor grunted, trying to steady himself against the desk when Aizel walked around the wooden structure and had the audacity to push him back into the leather chair.

“Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Emperor.” Aizel chastised, his amber orbs glowing with delight. “Not going to lie, I did not think the wine would accelerate the poison as quickly I had thought, but that works for me!”

Yandere!Emperor felt a rock plummet into the pit of his stomach at Aizel’s words. “You…did this?” He gurgled. “I thought…the Empress -”

“And deny me the opportunity to see the look on your face, choking on your blood? Absolutely not. Dear, sweet [First Name] would never have done this to you. You might not have loved her, but she did respect you.” Aizel shrugged. "If Tati were in her shoes, I reckon things would not have gone as smoothly as they have." He said casually, as if he were talking about the weather and not informally speaking to the most powerful man in the Empire. 

“I only have ten minutes before I must return to the party, so I will do the honor of answering your unspoken questions. Now, where should I start? Oh, right. Why? Why did I do this when I love you like a brother? When have you treated my sister and I with nothing but kindness and respect, providing support whenever we are troubled, mentally, physically, and finanically? Well, the answer is really, really simple: I don’t. I tolerated you. I respected you. But never once did I feel any affection towards you.” His smile widened. “The one who deserves to stand by Tati's side is the Rapid Dog of The Northern Border, my brother-in-arms. Remember him? He was engaged to Tati. The man she should have married, should have been the father of my nephew. But you had the engagement annulled because she had said a few nice words to you. You threatened to seize my family’s home unless she came to the palace as your mistress? Do you remember? Why do I even bother asking? You’re going to die anyway, and we will finally be free from this gilded cage. Seven years. Seven long, agonizing years of watching my sister playing the gentle, loving role of a besotted mistress when all she really wanted to do was slit your throat. I thought about that every day too, you know? Well, almost. I actually felt sorry for the Empress, you know. She didn’t deserve to have a husband who neglected his duties and blamed everything on the one person who kept the gears in this Empire going, until now.”

“E-Empress -”

“Had an assassin give her a clean, painless death. Made it look like an accident, and he delivered! That’s very impressive for an underground guild, you know. Investment was worth it.” Aizel giggled.

“Now, it’s time to let everyone know their beloved Emperor has retired for the evening and call it a night. Big changes are coming. Pity you won’t see it. Don’t worry though, I won’t kill Nikki. I do love him…and he will never know that his true father is a tyrannical piece of shit who died in his own pool of blood because he allowed love to muddle his mind when he should have put the country’s well being above all else. Farewell, Emperor Aleksander of the Moldova Empire. From the ashes of corruption, a new country shall be born. And my nephew will rule over it in his father’s stead once he is ready. The father he should have had and not the one who brought him into this world, Duke Matthias Starkov.” 

When he awakened, Yandere!Emperor realized he was no longer on the floor. He could breathe and he could see in the mirror that hung across the room that he looked younger again. He asked, no, demanded, a quivering servant  to tell him what the year and date were, now. It was The Year of the Moon, ----.  As the crown prince of the Moldova Empire, it is his duty to select a candidate to become his crown princess, his future Empress who would rule beside him when he ascended as the Emperor. His father, the current Emperor, is growing impatient with his sixteen-year-old son and annoyed that he is still fawning over the marquis’ daughter, Tatiana Adreeva, a woman who was already engaged to a duke. 

“Bring me the list, no, tell Josef to bring it to my office immediately. I will be there shortly.” Yandere!Emperor had never pushed the servants to dress him quickly as he did at this moment. He did not know how or why, but he had returned to the past, right when he had seen Tatiana for the first time. Seven years into the past, before Aizel had poisoned him and killed his Empress. 

Sure enough, he saw his Empress’ name on the list, five down from the most qualified and right in the middle of the lengthy parchment.  [First Name] [Last Name], born to the Republic of Greiran, the Prime Minister’s only daughter.

They are Moldova’s closest neighbor and primary source of spices and various crops that are able to thrive in the harshest of weather conditions. Rumor had it that the Prime Minister himself was the one who had collaborated with the magician’s tower on this project, saving thousands of lives from suffering another winter and no harvest after the king had collapsed from a broken heart, having lost his queen after she had given birth to the crown prince.

 That connection to the magician’s tower was the only reason Yandere!Emperor had married his Empress. Access to more magical resources than the ones in the Moldova Empire, enabling the creation of magical weapons and protecting the borders around enemy nations. And yet he still died like a damned dog, blind to the respect and admiration his Empress held for him in favor of  receiving love from his murderer. But not this time. This time….he will set things right. 

He will not get involved with Tatiana Adreeva. 

He will ascend to the throne as he is supposed to.

He will be devoted only to [First Name], never taking a mistress even if the aristocracy begged him. Even if their marriage is only on paper, and she never looks at him as a man and only as an Emperor. 

He will learn everything there is to know about his future Empress, and he will never let her go. 

Taglist

@impeakcharacterdesign

@ceeesxy-blog

@mitra555

@mooly-artistic

@lxdymoon0357

@xiaopleasecomehome

@lovely-nightmares

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@swallowtailcherry

@justcressida

@faux-ecrivain

@yandere-dark-cupid

@likesugarandcyanide

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@kanroji-san

@suiana

@swallowtailcherry

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2023

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

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Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

[asumi2020202]

Burn them all

Other name:Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader

Summary: Never once have you been to the place you were you belong. Always thinking you were an outcast. But one day you were invited. Feelings developed. Friendship made. When the war came, and they harmed one you hold dear, they realised that the same blood runs in both the father and the daughter. The act done by her, made even the gods pray for the people.

Au: Viserys I had a son before Rhaenyra. But due to him being unstable and bloodthirsty, Viserys exiled him. This son of his was Aerys II or 'The Mad King' as some may say. Due to him being exiled, his wife also left. Y/n Targaryen was born when Rhaenyra had given birth to Jacaerys. She was younger than her brothers, Viserys II, who had died while fighting some rogues and Rhaegal, who was murdered. She had an older sister but she was killed in front of her so she killed first when she was the age of seven. Y/n travelled the world, saving the slaves she found with her three dragons who were given to her by her father. She gave freedom to the slaves and poor. The world got to know her as The Khaleesi of the Great Grass sea, The Unburnt, The Mother of Dragons, The Breaker of chains.....and the Daughter of Death.

A/n: Hello! This story is based on an Au. I request you to read the Au before diving into the story or else it may not make sense. The timeline is mixed with Daenerys' because you take her place in this story. The reference picture took sometime to draw, you don't need to think of it permanently because it is only a reference.

About reader: She is younger than Aegon, Aemond and Helaena. She is loved by both sides. She has heterochromia (I love people with heterochromia). She wears an eye patch like Aemond.

Before reading:

Timeline: During Lucerys' trial to the Dance Of the Dragons.

The reader has 3 dragons. Namely- Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal.

Rhaenyra only betrothed Lucerys to Baela.

Tilted notes are translations of high valyrian.

Blood and cheese are not involved.

WARNING: mentions of rape, violence, blood.

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"Khaleesi, a raven has arrived from Kings Landing....."

"Ah, it seems he finally found me. Jorah, get everything ready, we will leave for Kinds Landing at dawn."

"At once my lady.."

_________________________________________

Music recommended: Dragonstone

Lord Vaemond stood before the king, Viserys, who looked like he was waiting for someone . After some minutes, when no one came, he spoke " Let the Petition start".

Just as Lord Vaemond was about to speak, the doors opened.

"Y/n Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of her name, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of the Mereen, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains... And the Mother of Dragons." Missandei spoke.

All eyes turned at the door as there stood Y/n Targaryen holding onto the hand of her best friend Missandei.

"Ah my grandchild, you recieved my letter. I always wished to see you in person, I only ever heard of you through the gossips of others saying a Targaryen girl conquered nations and freed slaves.

I longed to see you myself" Viserys said to whom y/n replied.

"I longed to see you as well your grace, I only ever heard of you through the lips of my brothers and sister. Even if I wished to meet you, i couldn't, as my family was exiled."

"I exiled your father and no one else. Your mother loved your father so heartily that she left with him. She was devoted to your father. But past shall be left behind my child, for you are now home."

"I understand your grace. Thank you for accepting me here and allowing me to be present in this trial." All eyes left y/n and focused on the upcoming trial.

With that King Viserys started hearing the petitions. Lord Vaemond had insulted Rhaenyra and her children in the heat of the moment.

"I think my lord it would be wise to honor the words of your brother and Princess Rhaenys as her granddaughter is to be married to Prince Lucerys Velaryon." Y/n Spoke, keeping her calm.

"And would do you think you are to advice me. She- "

"Say it" whispered Daemon.

"Her children are BASTARDS!. She is a whore and you are a bitch who can't mind their business, who know, you might turn out like your father." Vaemond screamed.

"Please I ask your not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father" said y/n.

"I.... Will have your tongue for that." As Viserys took out his dagger, Daemon easily cut Vaemond's head in and angle that the tongue hanged freely.

"He can keep his tongue" said Daemon. "Disarm him" spoke the guards.

"No need" said Daemon.

When Daemon slashed Vaemond's head, Helaena sought comfort in Alicent's body, while the brothers remained unfazed.

_________________________________________

As the trial came to an end, Helaena shyly started a conversation with y/n wanting to know about her while Rhaenyra, Lucerys and Jacaerys approached y/n.

"Indeed. None who stay with me or serve me are slaves, rather they are free have their own will and knowledge which I value." Y/n talked with Helaena finding comfort in her.

"Y/n." Spoke Rhaenyra. "Yes your grace?"

"Please do not call me your grace, you are my own flesh and blood. Just call me your aunt." " Very well then aunt Rhaenyra "

"Would mind sharing the stories of your journeys with us niece?" Said Helaena.

"Sure, but I must see my children first, come, I shall show them to you"

As the four followed y/n, Jacaerys felt uneasy at the thought of her having offsprings that are not with him as he felt infatuated with her the moment he saw her.

Near the dragon pit, they saw three dragons unable to be tamed.

"Umbās" wait. Said y/n to the men.

"Do not bring them to the dragon pit and chain them, they are but free beings like humans, let them soar in the sky with their wings."

"Yes your grace" said the men before leaving.

"Meet my children, Rhaegal" referring to the green dragon. "Viserion" the goldish brown dragon. "And Drogon". The black dragon with red highlights.

"You have three dragons?" Asked Jacaerys, relieved that the children y/n referred to are not humans.

"Yes, according to my brothers, my father gave the three dragons eggs that his dragon laid to me as I was his only daughter and the youngest. "

"Your brothers?" Asked Rhaenyra. "Yes, Viserys and Rhaegar, I named my children from them."

"Where are they now?"- Helaena.

"Dead"...... "I'm sorry for your loss" Each one replied.

"It's alright, it is in the past. I have learned to cope with it. Leaving that aside, I'm new here so I don't know the place, I need someone to show me around."

"Ah, Jace would be more than happy to show you around my niece." - Rhaenyra.

Jacaerys nodded. Grateful that his my knew his affection for the new girl.

As Jace led y/n away, Rhaenyra started a conversation with missandei.

"How did a slave girl come to advice y/n Targaryen?"- Rhaenyra asked. To which she replied "She bought me from my master and set me free."

"Free? And what if you wish to go to Naath tomorrow?"

"Then she will give me a ship and some resources to sail away."

"You truly believe that?"

"Yes. I believe in her. All of us who came with her from Essos, we believe in her. She's not out Queen because she's the daughter of some king we never knew. She's the queen we chose."

_________________________________________

King Viserys threw a feast for both his grandchild returning home and lucerys' betrothal.

"I would like to announce a thought I have come upon." Viserys spoke as all eyes went to him.

"I would like to bethroth my grandson Prince Jacaerys to my granddaughter Princess Y/n. She has been away for too long and it seems right that jace gets bethroth as his younger brother has already been."

"I agree father"- Rhaenyra said. Alicent nodded her head and smiled at Rhaenyra.

Jacaerys felt happy as Lucerys teasing poked him.

"Well you'll finally get to lay down with a woman. You do know how the act is done right?" Aegon whispered to Jace.

"Y/n?" Questioned Viserys. "Do you agree to this announcement of mine?"

"If it pleases you Grandfather then yes I agree" y/n replied as she smiled ate Viserys.

The night, for once after ages, was happy and without violence. Helaena and y/n danced together. Rhaenyra and Alicent laughed together. Viserys felt warm at the sight.

That was until Aegon usurped the throne upon king Viserys' death.

_________________________________________

The day Aegon usurped the throne, the family had been divided. Alicent knew that war was inevitable.

The blacks resided in Dragonstone along with y/n and her dragons. Both parties desperately wanted to gain more houses on their side.

Helaena joined the blacks much to the surprise of both sides. All she said was that " I do not wish to partake in this war, I joined the queen to ensure the safety of my children. I have no wish to rule."

Rhaenyra sent Jacaerys to the north as a messenger. He was to inform Lord Cregan Stark of the upcoming war and get their assistance.

Before going, Jace promised y/n that he will return safely, kissing her goodbye.

While Lucerys was sent to Storm's end to earn the favor of Lord Borros Baratheon.

_________________________________________

After both the brothers left, a day or two after Rhaenyra had gone to labor. Unfortunately visenya, Rhaenyra's child, was a stillborn with dragon scales.

As she burned on the pyre, Rhaenyra leaned on to y/n instead of her husband Daemon. That ver evening came the news that Lucerys Velaryon was killed by Aemond Targaryen and his dragon Vhagar.

The shock was too much to handle for Rhaenyra. Y/n knew what this meant. No one could survive the rage of a mother. Y/n wrote a letter to Jace, informing him of the situation.

_________________________________________

Y/n stood near the beach of Dragonstone, watching as vermax and her betrothed returned.

As Jace landed, she gave him a look of sorrow. She hugged him as he wrapped his hands around her tightly, finding comfort in her.

After sometime, she led him to Rhaenyra. She stood as she saw both the mother and the son break down in each other's arms. Rhaenyra extended and arm, asking for y/n to join, which she took without a second thought.

_________________________________________

Y/n was in the council when she noticed that her missandei was not there. The commander of the Unsullied entered the room. Giving his respects to the queen, he turned to y/n and spoke something to her.

What he had said had shocked her. It was visible on her face. Her breathing became uneven. She placed her hand on her forehead. Jace coming to her side in an instant and held her.

"What is the matter?" Jace asked.

The commander replied "Aegon kyvāna naejot execute se khalēsi ráqiros mishanje hemtūbis. Ziry vestretan bona lo ziry wishes naejot rhãenagon zyhon mēre mōrī jēda, ziry līs sagon ry dārys tegorīr ry dawn hemtūbis.

Aegon plans to execute the khaleesi's friend Missandei tomorrow. He said that if she wishes to meet her one last time, she must be at kings landing at dawn tomorrow.

This must be because of Aemond's death. y/n thought.

"I must leave at once, prepare Drogon." Y/n commanded as the commander nodded and left.

"You can't leave alone." Argued Baela.

"But I can't abandon her!"

"Let Jace go with you, if an ambush does occur, both of you will take your dragons and leave at once." Rhaenyra said, knowing full well how much it can hurt to lose someone you love.

Y/n nodded and sprinted out. She and Jacaerys approached their dragons and flew to kings landing once they had climbed on them.

_________________________________________

Y/n stood their on the ground, holding onto Jacaerys' hand as she saw Aegon, Otto, Missandei and a guard standing on a tower. Upon seeing her, Aegon had smirked at her

He asked missandei "any last words? Because now is the time."

Missandei looked away from Aegon and to y/n. After a second the guard took out his sword and angled it.

Y/n could feel her tears trickling down her face. Missandei looked at her and Said "Dracarys!". And she was beheaded.

Y/n spared Aegon one last look of hatred as she left kings landing with Jace.

_________________________________________

Upon her arrival, all could see her sorrow and anger. They knew even if there had been a chance before, there is no chance now to avoid war.

" prepare the soldiers, we will attack at once" y/n commanded to her commanders of both the dothraki and Unsullied.

She turned to Rhaenyra and said "be prepared to take back that throne, it will not be so easy with both daemon and Rhaenys along with their dragons gone."

"We will attack tomorrow which will take them by surprise as some of your army is in kings landing itself, you only need to inform them of the plan."

"Hm.. I will send a raven"

_________________________________________

As all left the room, only Jace remained with y/n. As Jace walked upto her, she broke down causing Jace to run upto her to catch her.

"She died alone, she died for me and I couldn't protect her" y/n cried in Jacaerys' chest as he held the head to his chest, shushing her and telling her everything will be okay once the war has ended.

_________________________________________

Rhaenyra, Jacaerys,Y/n, Rhaena, Baela, Cregan Stark were all dressed up for battle.

They were reaching the beach where the armies: Dothraki, Unsullied, Northerners and the rest were assembled.

As they approached , they saw a dragon falling from the sky. It had an arrow piercing it heart and neck.

Upon realisation, y/n ran to the dragon. Wailing out "no.. no no no!.... Not him as well."

Baela and Rhaena held a hand on their mouth in shock. Jacaerys could feel your sorrow as Rhaenyra held her head down. Even though Cregan Stark didn't know her well, he felt a sense of guilt upon seeing her crying face.

"He had no fault. Why did he had to die? Why my little child? Why my Viserion?" Y/n cried as she held the head of her 3rd dragon.

As if on que Rhaegal and Drogon landed as the dragon watchers brought the dragons of others with them. Drogon and Rhaegal sensed your sorrow. They laid their heads and bodies on either side of you, softly whimpering.

"I am his child aren't i?........ I am the Mad King's Daughter. The same blood flows through both of our veins."

"Y/n..." Jace softly whispered.

"Nyke jāhor keligon syt daōrun ēva nyke avenge ziry" Declared y/n.

I will not stop until I avenge them.

A sentence every human on that lives, fears.

She gently let go of the head of Viserion. She stepped in front of her soldiers. Rhaena and Baela had left on their dragons for their part of the plan.

"Jāhor ao ossēnagon issa enemies isse poja āegenka ármor?" Spoke y/n.

Will you kill my enemies in their iron Armor?

The dothraki roared as the Unsullied stomped their spears on the ground.

"Jāhor qūvy ilagon poja dōron lenton?"

Will tear down their stone houses?

They did the same movement again.

"Jāhor ao sagon rēisīr issa?"

Will You be with me?

Again the same.

"Sīr?!! Se forever??!"

This time the sound was extremely loud.

Y/n spoke those words while her tears ran freely.

Jacaerys and Cregan had left, leaving behind only Rhaenyra and y/n.

The commander of the Unsullied came to her "Khaleesi what are we to do? We await your orders." Y/n looked at her family with a look that looked as if she is dead, her eyes hollow and had rage in them.

She looked away from them and to her commander and said " burn". The commander was puzzled.

"Khaleesi?"

"Burn them all..... Burn each and everyone that rebels."

She turned to the Unsullied and declared her orders-

"Dovaogédys!"

Unsullied

"Aeksia ossēnātās!"

Slay the masters

"Menti ossēnātās!"

Slay the soldiers

"Qiloni pilos lue vale tolvie ossēnātās!"

Slay every man who holds a whip.

The soldiers marched forward , the ships sailed, their arrows prepared.

"Y/n.. you have stained your hands with blood by giving those orders." Rhaenyra gently spoke.

"My hands have been stained long ago, back when I was only seven. I don't fear anything anymore. Do know how I stained my hands ?"

_________________________________________

Flashback:

"No no no! Let her go!! Take anything you want but let her go!!" A seven year old girl screamed.

"I wonder how a stark and a Targaryen is living together?" A man asked.

"Eh, we don' care bout' that do we now mate? We've got double luck" A second mam replied.

"Letz use this one first shall we?" The first man smirked and said.

A seven year old y/n saw her stark sister whom had saved her get raped in front of her.

She scream for them to let her go desperately trying to cut the rope tying her hands together with her hidden dagger.

Both men were focused on their pleasure. The stark girl was screaming in pain when y/n finally broke free.

She took her dagger and shoved it into the 2nd man's neck causing him to hold his neck as he bled out.

The first man kicked her in the stomach as he tried to hold her. Y/n had kicked him in the crotch, he screamed in pain. As y/n got a hold of her dagger, she stabbed the man repeatedly. Her face and body covered in the blood those men. Her golden and violet eyes shone from the fire that burned in the fire place.

When she calmed down, she hurried to the stark whom she thought of as her sister. She felt the warmth of her sister slip away from her grasp as she cried and screamed whilst being covered in blood.

_________________________________________

Rhaenyra felt tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She felt sympathy for the little girl of seven who had to suffer so much pain.

"I never knew my parents, I only ever heard the rumors and stories from my brothers before they were murdered.

People say that my father killed many with wild fire before he died. I will show them what a raged Targaryen looks like."

With that y/n flew away to the battlefield with Drogon and Rhaegal.

_________________________________________

Jace felt as if he was getting suffocated . Too many men were sticking together and was getting squashed.

Suddenly roars were heard in the sky. There she was. Y/n Targaryen. With her two dragons.

"Dracarys!"

Half the men were burned to death. The dragon continued to burn the enemy soldiers.

Sunfyre had confronted Drogon. As the dragons rebelled against each other, y/n jumped from Drogon and landed on sunfyre, piercing her sword through Aegon's chest as he fell from the saddle.

She landed on the ground as Drogon took off to burn more soldiers, y/n approached Aegon who was cowering.

"Who are you exactly?!" He asked.

"The daughter of ......Death.." with that she beheaded him. As she continued slaying, she didn't even stop, going on a rampage.

_________________________________________

When the war came to an end, Jacaerys searched for his lover like a mad man. He may have been tired but he searched refusing to give up.

When he found her, he stilled. Her eye patch was gone. Behind her was Drogon and Rhaegal whose were beside her. In her arms was the head of Aegon the Usurper.

Her eyes to the full display for the world. Her golden eye shoned in the sun for the first time in forever. Her body was covered with blood, it dripped from her head. Tears were streaming down her face.

( The reference picture took a some time to draw)

Reference picture:

Jacaerys caught y/n before she fell. Her head on his chest as her vision faded.

_________________________________________

Y/n and Jacaerys had cut their hands and held them together. Cut their lips and drank from the same cup. The septa reciting the vows that they were to take. As the vows end, the two of kissed passionately infront of all.

Their wedding had been the old valyrian way. Lord Cregan gave both of them two dire wolves, one pitch black and one as white as the stars above.

Many were lost, but they must get past the memories for themselves and the future generations.

_________________________________________

10 months later from their consummation day. Y/n laid in their chambers. Panting and sweating. She tried her best to get the babe out of her.

Each moment that passes, Jacaerys felt the urge to barge in the room. One scream of agony threw him off as he opened the door and went beside his wife, supporting her from the back.

"I can't do it Jace. It's too difficult." She pleaded.

"Yes you can avy jorrāelan. I am here with you." Jacaerys replied.

My love.

"My lady you must push!" Said the midwives and maester. Y/n grunted and muffled scream escaped her as pushed with all her might.

A cry could be heard. "A boy my prince" said the maester.

A second of relieve washed over y/n before she was in pain again. "It's seems the princess is having twins, quick hurry!" Spoke a midwife.

After 5 hours of struggle, there laid two boys on each of the arms of the parents.

"My prince I must take the children to the wetnurse for their feeding" spoke a maid. "They will feed from their mother, me and my wife have decided it." Replied Jacaerys.

Y/n smiled at his words as the maid adjust her robes so both her son's could feed from her at the same time. As the maid left the room, Jacaerys placed his hand on his son who was attached to your right breast.

"What names do wish for avy jorrāelan?" Spoke y/n.

My love.

"How about you name the left one and I name the right? We both shall have our turn." Replied Jace.

Very well then what name do you suggest?- y/n.

"Daenys, to honor Daemon The Rogue Prince and Rhaenys The queen who never was." Jace spoke.

"Ah my beautiful Daenys." - y/n.

"What about you my love?" - Jacaerys.

"Rhaecerys, to honor my brother Rhaegal and your brother Lucerys." Spoke y/n .

Jace could feel tears build up. Suddenly Rhaenyra burst in with the others.

"Where are my grand babies?"- Rhaenyra.

"Here mother." Jace handed Rhaenyra the children before fixing his wife's gown because she was to tired as he referred.

"What are their names?" - Rhaenyra.

"Daenys and Rhaecerys" spoke y/n.

As Rhaenyra left , Jace put the babies in their cribs which was situated in their room upon the lady's request. He kissed her passionately, thanking her for the everything she gave him.

........She burned her enemies for her child and best friend. She burned them all. And would not hesitate to burn them again if they dare try to harm her family....

......After all.

...............Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor....

A dragon is not a slave.

-Lillian

[moonlitstoriess]

Across the Universe-ch.3 (Fenrys x Reader)

Summary: Y/n has everything she needs in life. A family, friends, a safe place she calls home and most importantly a male whom she loves. What happens when it all changes when Y/n finds out about the betrayal of her lover and her so called family? Well, ending up in Terassen and in queen Aelin's court was not what she expected but what she will need to start her new journey full of surprises.

Warnings: Traumatic flashback, brief description of SA, abuse.

See masterlist

A/n: Hey guys! Just a heads up, I gave a brief description of y/n here but nothing too specific as in the end, I want you to imagine yourselves in y/n's place. Hope you enjoy this :)))

Following the Illyrian traditions was very important. Submitting to the males wishes, their desires and orders, being a proper house maid was the future of almost every female unfortunate enough to be born in Illyria. This point was confirmed once more as she stood near the stove in the kitchen, silently humming to herself with the hopes of drowning out the ugly laughters of him and his male friends in the dining room, drinking and burying themselves in all the fat and gluttony.

"Y/n, sweetheart, come here!" There it was, that deceptively caring voice that only came out when he was so drunk that he could not even tell the difference between a goblet and a chamber pot, drinking ale from the latter and declaring it the finest vintage in all the realm.

She knew better than to argue or even think of putting up a fight.

When she entered the room, there were 3 other males with him, all smirking at her while greedily looking up and down her body with eyes that held hunger within them. At that moment, as he got up and went to lock the door behind her, y/n realized her fate. She wanted nothing more than to die right then and there.

"Sweetness, why don't you give us a show first?" one of them said, giving her a disgusting cruel smile that displayed his rotting, yellow teeth.

And so, as her 16 year old body was forcefully defiled all night long by these vile monsters, as her pleas fell on deaf ears, as they slapped and cut her up for their pleasure, y/n knew that hell would be kinder to her than Illyria and its males.

Y/n's eyes shot open as she immediately jumped up to a sitting position on the bed with a racing heart and a sweat covered body. It had been a while since these nightmares last happened to her. Visions of those horrible, dark times. They started coming back right when Azriel stopped sleeping with her. Now it seems that they have just gotten worse.

"Shhh, oh you poor child, you are safe now."

Y/n turned her head around to see an older female, with graying hair rubbing her back in comforting circles.

She did not have the energy to use her voice, so y/n whispered, "Who are you? Where am I?"

The woman smiled as she calmly explained, "My name is Isolde and I am one of the head royal healers. You are in the healing hut where I have been taking care of you for the past one day."

"I have been in this state for a whole day?"

"Yes. After you passed out, Aedion was meant to come find me but it seemed like Fenrys had a different plan. Oh, you should have seen him when he winnowed here. He was frantic! I never saw him so worried before. He laid you down here on the hut and only said 'Help her, please.' Then he winnowed again and left you here in my care. In the past day, her majesty queen Aelin and the lady Lysandra came down here twice to check up on you, but you were still unconscious."

Fenrys was worried about her? Of course he was worried. They were all worried because y/n is their captive and they could not have her dead before they got the information they needed out of her.

With a scoff, she turned her head around to inspect the room. There were two rows of beds here on each side of the wall and two circular windows at each end of the room. Multiple shelves and tables around the place contained all sorts of books, medications, and some kinds of herbs. The light coming from the afternoon sun cast a comforting glow around the room.

The healer got up and began to gently inspect y/n as she said, "Her majesty said to bring you to her once you were better again. There is a washroom just outside this door on the left and inside you will also find some clothes. Although it was quite challenging to find a shirt that would somehow go through your wings which is why I washed your old shirt and put it back there."

That is when y/n looked down and realized that she was wearing some sort of chest binds and underpants. Oh Cauldron boil her...they had to strip her naked? At her worried face the female replied with a knowing smile, "Yes, I saw your scars and burns but do not worry, I was the only one who changed your clothes so your secret shall go with me to my grave. I swear it."

Slightly embarassed, but grateful nonetheless, she nodded her head and wordlessly padded to the washroom. After washing up and changing into a fresh and comfortable set of brown pants, her old, long sleeved shirt, and new, knee high light brown boots, y/n left the washroom and followed the healer out towards wherever this queen wanted them to be at.

When Fenrys got word from Aelin that y/n was finally awake and that Isolde would bring her to the formal sitting room soon, he immediately raced through the woods in his wolf form to reach the palace in time. He did not know why or how but Fenrys was definetly feeling something unusual and foreign whenever he was around her.

He remembers how, two days ago when Rowan felt y/n's presence within Terassen's teritorry and sent him to investigate, Fenrys did not expect to be dumbfounded by this winged female lying unconscious on the ground. She was ethereal. Her gorgeous, soft hair that he suddenly felt like running his fingers through, her plump, full lips, gentle yet defined features that made her look like a work of art. But most importantly, her unique and breathtaking black wings that seemed to glitter under the sunlight.

And then, when he winnowed them to the formal meeting room, he felt her nervousness and wanted nothing more than to make her feel safe. It did not help that being right behind her meant that he could smell her delicious scent of jasmine and peach. He remembers how, when Rowan took y/n's air out, Fenrys had this sudden and animalistic urge to kill him. Rowan, his closest companion for so many centuries, suddenly became his number one enemy.

Lastly, when y/n fell unconscious again because of shock...Fenrys could not even understand his own actions. He was supposed to wait just like everyone else until Aedion called someone but...he could not stand there and watch her lie unmoving, so he immediately winnowed her to Isolde. Even though he did not visit y/n after that, he would unsuspiciously ask everyone for updates on her. He knew he should not care but, whatever this silly thing inside him was made him care for some foolish reason.

"So what if she fell unconscious? We still need to keep our eyes on her every move. If our assumptions are true, she is a stranger from a completely different world."

Lorcans voice brought Fenrys back from his thoughts as he watched his family argue over y/n and her fate. Lorcan and Elide arrived just this morning from Perranth after Aelin sent word to them.

"I agree. But she also did not seem like a big threat either. She looked quite shocked when she realized what was happening." Lysandra said while glaring at Lorcan.

"And? it all may have just been a part of her innocent act to reach whatever her goal is."

"Lorcan please calm down, we will se-" Elide was cut off by Lysandras voice.

"You really are a soulles creature then aren't you? Gods...She fell unconscious!! How do you act that out?" Lysandra was staring daggers at him.

"Lorcan is right. Unconscious or not, she is a threat to us for as long as she is in here."

"Really Rowan? I ca-"

"Alright that has been sufficient enough, you three." Aelin said as she gave a pointed look to her mate, Lysandra and Lorcan before continuing, "We won't know anything until we speak to her and that means, we also can not come to any conclusions until we get her side of the story. So either you act like rational beings and we interrogate her properly, or you can just leave the room right at this moment because I do not wish to deal with any additional headaches right now." Her queen side truly came out as those turquoise eyes looked harshly at everyone, including Fenrys, and especially at Lorcan.

But no one could say anything else because the doors opened and in walked Isolde with y/n behind her and Fenrys once again had this urge to be near her and protect her from the unavoidable interrogation that was about to happen. She had an indifferent facial expression on that could fool anyone else but not him. Because for some reason, Fenrys could scent her discomfort and curiosity as her eyes looked around the room.

Y/n noted that his room was different from the previous one. Because while the previous one had different colors, this one was covered in various shades of green starting with pale and ending with forest dark. The floor was covered in a beige and green floral patterned rug, in the center there was a small, circular, golden brown table and on each side of it there was a green couch with hints of silver in their patterns. There also was a white marble fireplace that was currently empty. Finally, on each side of the fireplace, there were two floor to ceiling windows that displayed the gardens outside.

The strangers from the other day were all here, some sitting on the couches while others were standing in the center, but there were also two new strangers that she did not recognize. The extremely tall, tan, muscled man with brown hair that reached his shoulders was not the type that could be overlooked. It was as if his presence always demanded attention. Not to mention the fact that those threatening dark eyes were currently staring at her. If looks could kill, y/n would already be dead. Next to him, was a very small, pale woman with dark black hair and the most adorable face. She was also staring at y/n, but unlike the intimidating beast next to her, she was smiling with genuine kindness.

And then there was Fenrys who was leaning against the wall near the window, staring at her. His arms were crossed which made the impressively large muscles under his white tunic bulge and that made her feel hot all over her body. But, she managed to reign in her feelings and stood stoic faced looking straight at the blond, blue eyed female who was now walking closer to y/n.

"Well, I hope you are feeling better now." The female said, standing face to face with her and assesing y/n with her eyes.

"I am, thanks to Isolde." Y/n turned her head sideways and gave the healer, who was standing next to the door, a small yet genuine smile which Isolde returned.

"Yes. Well, she is our head healer for a reason after all. Thank you Isolde, you may leave now."

Isolde did a small bow and then turned to leave. Once the door closed, Y/n's cold facial expression came back on while looking at the female before her and already mapping out her potential exits from the room. She managed find a small but sharp needle in the washroom so, that was her only weapon as her knife was taken from her when she was unconscious. It is not like y/n was sad about it anyways because that knife was gifted to her by Azriel for their 50th anniversary.

"Y/n, come sit. Don't worry no one is going to hurt you...yet." The blond said with a small smirk as if expecting her to be afraid.

But y/n had seen and been through worse situations when she was working for Rhysand and had to go on missions with Cassian or Azriel. Her name though, how did they kn- Oh, yes, well of course Fenrys told them. Y/n cursed herself for ever revealing her name to him and went to sit on the empty couch without showing an ounce of fear. They could interrogate her all they like but they could never break her.

When she saw the tatooed male opening his mouth to say something, she crossed her arms and said with an indifferent tone, "Shouldn't I know your names? I mean, I could refer to each of you by your hair colors like 'silver hair' or 'ugly brown hair'..." at that she gave a look at the tall brooding man and continued, "but I would really rather call you by your names."

The blond female fully smirked before saying, "My name is Aelin and I am the queen of this teritorry. The 'silver hair' is prince consort Rowan and my mate."

"My name is Elide and I am the lady of Perranth" the small woman said while smiling sweetly at y/n before pointing to the still angry-looking giant beside her and saying, "he is my husband, Lorcan. Please do not be afraid of him he is just-"

"Acting like a baby? Do not worry Elide I am not afraid of men that seem threatened by my presence. It adds to my ego and confidence." Y/n said with a smirk as Lorcan got visibly angrier at her while someone on the other side of the room let out a small chuckle.

Aelin was full on smiling when y/n heard another voice, "Finally! Someone who can put Lorcan in his place. My name is Lysandra by the way" the brown eyed female said with a wink. Lastly, leaning against the couch was Aelin's look a like who, with cold eyes that were assesing her said, "Aedion." It seems like all the males here hate her. Well, how fantastic!

"And that is Fenrys, whom I believe you are already acquinted with." Aelin said, gesturing to him. Fenrys, still stuck to his place by the wall, only gave her a quick and wordless nod before looking away.

Rowan sat on the couch facing her and said, "Now, since we cleared that up, y/n, tell us where you are from."

Y/n sighed before telling them about her world, but still keeping some information hidden from them. She told them about the different courts, the type of fae, of Illyria and her wings, the mortal lands and the wars.

When she was finished, they each had different facial expressions while processing what y/n just said. Aedion, seemingly the only one to quickly gather his thoughts asked, "Then, in your world...Prythian? there are many who like you, have wings."

She nodded before saying, "Yes, these wings are specific to Illyria. Those who are from there have these black, bat-like wings. But there also are those with white, feathery wings. For instance, in the Dawn court. Those are called Peregryn."

Rowan asked her next, "And the Night court is where you work?"

"Worked. I was there for 52 years serving its High lord. But then...let's just say I was betrayed. In fact, I was packing my things and getting ready to leave right before I ended up here."

"So you just suddenly ended up here?" Elide asked curiously from her place on the couch right next to Lorcan who had one hand within reach of his knife and the other on Elide's waist. Y/n smirked, he thinks he is so slick but she has already memorized the ways of those like him. Always ready to attack. Which, if he does dare to attempt, the long and sharp needle in her pocket will find its way quicker to his throat than the knife in his hand will reach her.

"No, while I was getting ready to leave, I heard a voice calling me. I did not understand what it was saying and then, I got this deep urge within me to go find its source. So I flew to where it was and found that it was the Book of Breathings that was calling me all along."

At their puzzled faces, y/n asked, "You do know about the Book of Breathings, yes?"

Lysandra and Aelin exchanged a confused yet slightly alarmed look before the former asked, "Should we be aware of it?"

Oh, they definetly had no idea. With no other choices left, y/n explained all about the 3 objects of the Trove, how they managed to gather them, or rather how Nesta managed to gather them, and finally about the Book of Breathings.

Aelin, still seemingly deep in thought said, "That is how you won your war then."

"Well, we also had the upper hand because there were 3 of the most ancient beings, Gods of a sort, fighting on our side. My at the time high lady and high lord made deals with them in order to make them fight for us."

At that, Aelin scoffed, "How fortunate that the Gods in your world atleast agreed to aid you in your wars."

At y/n's puzzled look, Aedion smirked as he said, "My cousin killed the Gods of our world. One of her many titles is Godskiller."

To say y/n was shocked would be an understatement "How? I mean...how do you just manage to kill the Gods? How is that possible?"

Everyone in the room apart for y/n shared a look before Rowan said, "You told us about your world, it is only fair that we tell you about ours."

And so, they all,except Lorcan because he is still a brooding child, took part in explaining her all about their world. They told her about Wyrdgates, Valgs, the king of Adarlan, the Wyrdkeys, the Iron Witches and their matrons, their Wyverns, Maeve, Erawan, the war at Orynth, how Aelin managed to close the gates with her powers, and lastly, about the sacrifice of the Blackbeak witches that gave the upper hand for them to win the final battle. This all happened 3 years ago. It was clear that they left out quite a few things and by the stern looks Aelin was sometimes giving to them, it was about her but y/n did not blame them. After all, she also left out information about how the Night court or any other court in Prythian works, what is Velaris and what was her position at court, how skilled she is at war or just fighting in general, her age, Amarantha's 50 year reign and most definetly, her past.

Y/n had never heard so many shocking revelations at once. What on earth did they go through? So many innocents were being forced to wear chockers or rings with whatever those demons were? The fae of Erilea were definetly different from those in Prythian. But what spiked her curiosity the most, was the information she got on the Ironteeth, Blackbeak witches. Apparently, her wings were similar to those of their Wyverns and from what they told her, y/n felt like she would get along well with them.

She turned her head towards Aelin and asked, "So, now you have no powers left?"

Aelin sighed and came down to sit next to her, which made Rowan immediately come to stand right behind her at the edge of the sofa, watching y/n with a gaze that dared her to even try doing something to his mate and queen. Y/n genuinely smiled, how impressive (and romantic) that he loves and protects her so much.

"Well, I gave most of it away but, there is still a little bit left in me. Not large enough to burn down a forest or create a fire wall but, enough to still remind me of my roots."

Nodding, y/n turned her head to everyone else, landing her gaze on Fenrys, while asking no one in particular, "What powers do the rest of you have? I know silver hair over there has some air power that can take the breath out of your body but...what about the rest of you?"

Lorcan scoffed, "Who do you think you are-"

"Shapeshifting. I can shift into any form of living being." Lysandra cut in after giving Lorcan a death stare. Y/n smirked, she liked this female very much.

After everyone, except for well...of course Lorcan and Elide said what their powers were, y/n noticed how Fenrys never once opened his mouth during this entire process, preferring to stare at her from his spot near the window.

So, she asked him, "Fenry-"

But he cut her off, "Lorcan is right. You are in no position to ask us of anything. Better you shut up than ask things that are of no concern to you. My powers are known to those that need to know of it." and with that, he stalked towards the doors and left the room.

Lorcan was smirking until Elide jabbed him with her elbow, Rowan, surprisingly, did not seem happy and Aedion had an unreadable expression. Y/n thought that maybe just maybe Fenrys would not be against her but...it truly seems like she is the number one enemy of all the males here.

Aelin let out a small cough that drew y/n's attention from the door and told her with an uncertain smile, "You...could stay in the palace, I will have a guest bedroom arranged for you if you wish. And while you're here, we could look into this whole matter of gates and help you find a way on how to get you home."

"Oh no I really should start looking for a way to leave, and besides, your males do not seem to want me he-"

"Finally, something we can agr-"

"No." Elide said, cutting of her husband and then looking at y/n, "The males can go and brood for as long as they like but you are a stranger to our world which means out there you won't find anything. Your best chance is here, within the palace walls."

"Bu-"

"I command it as the queen."

"You are not my queen."

"But you are standing on my grounds and that means, whatever I say is law."

Aelin and y/n stared at one another, unflinching, holding each others gaze before y/n finally said, "Alright!"

Aelin smiled, before saying, "Ladies, shall we escort our guest to her bed chambers?"

Lysandra and Elide both stood which caused their husbands to immediately hug them as if they are newborn babies who could not stand being away from their mother. Y/n's heart ached because that was how Azriel was with her once. What was he doing now? Was he worried for her? She doubted it.

Aelin placed her hand on y/n's shoulder to bring her back to reality, as she softly said, "Come"

When the queen and her two ladies led her to her room, y/n's shock was written all over her face but she did not care. She has lived in and seen luxury for quite a large span of her life now, but not even her bedchambers at Velaris or the ones at Dawn court could ever come close to this.

The room was medium sized which added to its comfort. On the right side of the wall, was a large bed with a golden headboard, pale pink or almost white covers and white, see through curtains hanging above. Next to it, was a small, beige nightstand that had a small vase full of daisies, lilacs and a candle that stood on a small golden holder. Opposite to the bed, on the left side of the wall, was a white table with golden designs around the corners that held a large mirror, various beauty products and a singular vase full of white roses. Right next to it, was a white door which Aelin said leads to the washroom and beyond that, the large wardrobe. In front of it was a small, soft, white chair with golden stag figures over it. In the middle of the room, was a small, low, cream colored rectangular table and next to it, were two light gold lounge chairs. Behind the table and the chairs, was one large floor to ceiling window that was covered by, again, white see through curtains and beyond that, it seemed that there was a balcony that overlooked the vast expanse of this territory. The floor was covered in a large, white rug with pale pink and gold designs all over it. The room smelled of roses, vanilla, and other lovely citrusy scents.

"Aelin, I am so glad you listened to me when I said that we needed to have a feminine guest room for our female visitors." Elide said, gazing lovingly into the room.

"One of the best rooms in the West wing." Lysandra said before winking at y/n.

"Get some rest, I shall have food delivered to you and we can begin tomorrow."

Y/n gave a small thankful nod, but before she could say anything else, a messenger with black hair and gray eyes came into the room, bowed to Aelin and said with a small smirk, "Your message was received. King Dorian can't come now which is why Chaol and Yrene are on their way."

Aelin smiled and said, "Thank you Nox, what about Manon?"

"The queen of witches has not replied yet but it seems she has a lot to do in her kingdom. After all, she has to share it. My guess is that she and Dorian will come together."

"Ah those two, I am counting down the days till I hear of their union." Lysandra said while shaking her head.

When Nox saw y/n, he swept his gaze all over her, smirked even bigger than before, before bowing to Aelin and exiting the room.

Aelin, who saw the whole thing, just smiled shaking her head and said, "Nox Owens. He is...we have been friends ever since I was 18 and now he is my main messenger."

Elide took Aelin and Lysandra's hand and led them towards the door but not before saying, "Good night y/n! See you tomorrow."

And as y/n got ready for bed and ate her food, all alone in this foreign place, she wondered what her future held for her and how she would get home.

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A/n: 4.4k words! Wow... but it was so much fun to write and also why not give you guys some more juicy stuff? Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed reading this and see you in the next chapter <3

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ladespedidas @mis-lil-red @going-through-shit @kaitttttttt @bunnyredgirl @crazylokonugget @blackgirlmagicforever

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Two

Word Count: 6.2k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex

Series Masterlist  ​​

Hedi had noticed her praying more often, with soft tears in her eyes.

 But no matter how much Hedi asked her what was wrong, the little maidservant would shake her head and insist that she was merely homesick having sent a few copper coins to her siblings.

 In the room she shared with her fellow maidservant, Alanna, who luckily worked quite the opposite shift to her, she would sit on the stool before the pale of water, scrubbing at her skin to wash herself. Trying to rid her mind of the experience altogether. The taste of his spend on her tongue. The uncomfortable prod of his cock at the back of her throat. The way his voice sent a jolt of both fear and a thrill through her. It made her question everything about herself. That perhaps she didn’t know herself as well as she thought. And it was this fact that disturbed her the most.

 That she was beginning to lose touch of herself.

 She’d not said a word to anyone. And when she attended to him in the mornings as she usually did, she tried to make herself as small as possible, hoping that if she hugged her arms around herself tight enough, she might actually begin to disappear. Prince Aemond had almost pretended as if nothing had happened, with his usual one word answers, faint hums and lack of presence in his chambers.

 The little maidservant wondered if she had done something to irk him, or if he had not enjoyed the experience and wished not to repeat it. Secretly, she hoped so. Hoped that he would lose interest and slowly slip into the old habits, ignoring her completely. Then she could go about her life, picking and cleaning up the royal Prince’s mess, and hers into the bargain as well. She thought that royals such as him do not think about the messes they make.

 In that way they are like children.

 She wondered if anyone, in Prince Aemond’s life, had ever told him no.

 It was doubtful.

 Perhaps that was why he felt entitled to torment her in the way he had. Perhaps it was the effect of privilege in the pursuit of pleasure.

 It was a morning like any other and she dressed in silence, careful not to wake her fellow colleague whom she shared a bed with. Alanna was a night owl, through and through, but it did not mean she was not exhausted after performing her night shift duties and when she had come back in the early hours, it was like a prod for the other little maidservant to wake for her morning duties.

 Who she saw in the looking glass looked very much like her, but didn’t feel like her.

 The weather was pleasant enough, warm with a cool breeze as she carried Prince Aemond’s breakfast tray, a heavy bubble in her gut at the thought of seeing him again.

 She’d turned at the call of her name. The young boy who served alongside the staff rushed up to her carrying a scroll.

 “What is it?”

 “Message from your family, miss” the boy’s voice broke as he spoke, he could not have been older than three and ten and still had that nervous wide look about him.

 The little maidservant swallowed nervously and gestured for him to read it. She recognised him as the son of one of the staff, almost born for the role of being a hasty little messenger, and thus he was taught to read. Perhaps a benefit of his sex and his environment.

 The letter read:

Your pestilent brother and sister are well, but their stomach’s are never full and the boy in particular has almost completely cleaned out the pantry. I will, for the love I had for your mother and father, continue to look after them, however I must request three additional copper coins per week to fund their insatiable appetite. Otherwise I shall be forced to send the little beggars on their way to earn their own coin, the young girl is certainly old enough.

 The maidservant delivered a large sigh, an uncomfortable weight that was already on her shoulders was becoming heavier the more the boy read on.

 “Thank you” she nodded to dismiss the young boy, only allowing herself to breathe a shuddered breath once she was alone. She told herself to not panic, to not cry and that everything would be alright in the end. But there was a small piece of her inside that allowed herself to be a child again, wanting the comfort of a mother and father. She wondered how she would be able to come up with 3 additional copper coins a week and still be able to feed and clothe herself.

 Steadying her breath to keep herself from becoming emotional, she knocked twice and was allowed to enter when she once again heard the muffled tone of his voice.

Tray on the nightstand. Draw the curtains. Tie them back. She kept going over what she was going to do in her head, eyes downcast the entire time, not wanting to look at him.

 And yet in her peripheral she saw him rise from his bed as she tied the curtains back

 Her heart lurched into her chest when she saw his arms hook underneath hers to lean against the windowsill in front of her, and then when his bare chest had nudged against her back. She felt as if she could not make a sound and so she didn’t even acknowledge it at first, screwing her eyes shut to draw in a shaky breath. Aemond had smirked behind her, knowing what her reaction would be and his finger once again came to the little curl at the side of her head that perpetually made itself free of her braids.

 “My little maidservant is shy today” he said lowly, pressing his form tighter against her back, thinking about how if he bucked his hips just a little, his hard arousal would prod against her dress-clad backside.

 He looked down as she purposefully did not look back at him. He watched the way her lips were slightly parted, as if so afraid that she had to breathe through her mouth, albeit quietly. He chuckled at the effect he seemed to have on his little maidservant, smoothing his finger over her hair, then her neck, which he can tell made her shudder slightly.

 “Tell me, sweet girl, do you still taste it…” he whispers in the shell of her ear, looking down he can see the shadow of her skin beneath her dress, but it becomes too dark to truly see anything. He allowed himself to wonder what her bare form would look like.

 Would she have small, well-rounded breasts, easily fit into his palms. How he thought he'd grip them so tight he wouldn't let go, intent on making her at least whimper at the pleasurable pain.

 Would she have a smooth curve to her hips, the line leading down to her cunny, to where he imagined that little patch of hair would welcome him.

 Would she have supple thighs, ones he could leave bruises and marks all over. Perhaps even a bit of blood. The thought of smearing blood over her skin thrilled him more than he thought.

 He remembers how she'd told him she'd not been with a man. Would she bleed so nicely for him, once he'd taken her maidenhead, be good and muffle her little whimpers of discomfort into the pillow. Or rather, he wondered if he'd quite like to hear them, while curling his fingers around her throat and squeezing tightly.

 It was getting harder to breathe for Aemond. And unbeknownst to him, it was increasingly so for her as well. Frozen in absolute fear.

 “...do you still feel my cock in your throat, hm?”

 Yes, she thought, with a shameful twist of her stomach. She could still feel his hands holding her face, forcing her to take him as deep as he wanted, still feel every thrust of his hips against her, his fist tightening in her hair, tugging.

 He released one of his hands on the windowsill to rest on her waist, making her inhale sharply. He’d not touched her intimately, only solicited the use of her mouth on him that one time. Aemond felt the movement of her ribs beneath her dress with her breathing, as if he’s just realised she was a living, breathing person before him.

 “Have you touched yourself, sweet girl” he asks.

 She managed to gather all the courage she has inside her and cleared her throat, “I…am not sure what you mean, your grace”

 Fucking cock tease, Aemond thought. But she had really not known at all what he’d meant. Of course she had touched herself, to bathe herself, to brush her hair?

 “I mean…” he starts, his large hands moving to gather her skirts in his fist. And this time she did shudder when the air hit her legs, skin that outside the boundaries of her own bedroom, should never be seen, “...have you touched your little cunt for pleasure”

 She clenches her fists when his palm runs up the side of her thigh. It’s so wrong. So, so wrong for him to touch her like this.

 Aemond breathes hot against her neck at the feeling of her soft skin. Just like how he'd imagined it. The curve of her hip, so feminine and squeezable in his hand. He thought of the way he would grab at them to fuck her, for leverage, using her body the way he sees fit. And now that he'd done so with her mouth, he thought of the rest of her little holes and how they would squeeze him too.

 “Bought yourself to peak with your fingers…”

 She could cry. She thought she’d lost his interest. Thought she might be free of it. Calm down, is all she kept trying to tell herself. She counted in her head, trying to ground herself.

 He squeezes her hip tightly when she doesn’t respond, “Answer me now, or I will not be so nice”

 “A few times” she admits, voice thick with tears, “a few times, your grace…”

 But never to peak, she thought, embarrassed.

 She spoke like she may have been in trouble for it and dreaded what he might do now that she’s given her answer.

 “Hm” she chuckles, giving the skin of her hip one firm squeeze, one that is so tight in his palm it almost makes her whimper in pain. He lets her skirts fall as he moves away from her, looking much pleased with himself, smirking like he knows a secret.

 “Go now” he orders, still with that gravelly authority but ever so slightly softer, now that he'd been thinking of her cunt. But the softer tone does nothing to calm her and if it were possible, she guards herself even more, keeping her eyes to the ground. She doesn’t even look back when he says, “I shall see you tonight, sweet girl”

 She did not want to know what that meant, if it meant anything at all.

 Aemond watched as she left, scared completely out of her senses.

 Good, he thought. He loved that terror-stricken look in her eyes, the sharp taking in of breath when she was trying not to cry in his presence. He’d remembered wiping her tears away when he’d fucked her mouth so ruthlessly in search of his own pleasure, the way the slickness of it had smeared across her face. Aemond found that he wanted to know what she tasted like, every single bit of her. She would be so sweet…his virtuous little maidservant. He had to make sure she was entirely his, so that she knew nothing else but him.

 Young women like her are so helpless in the hands of amorous men.

 Whatever words were said to them, whatever touch and manipulation on their bodies seemed like love to them, the poor, silly little things.

 He would make sure that whatever words, whatever touch inflicted to his little maidservant would be sweet, delightful torture.

All the while she was dismissed until the evening, she busied herself with such menial tasks such as helping the others with the laundry for the day. It was nice to get outside, free from the suffocating confines of the Keep, even if it was just for a moment. The hallways now served to remind her of him, dreading the moment she would be walking down them and he would round the corner, with that predatory gaze he always gave her.

 It was a calm day, so she revelled in the lovely breeze for a moment, allowing herself to be happy.

 There was some relief in the idle chatter of the other maidservants, as she scrubbed the white bed linen against the washboard, her sleeves turned up to prevent from getting wet.

 “I hear the Princess Rhaenyra very well may be returning to King’s Landing soon”

 Freiya was a little younger than the others and as such, had a wandering imagination, a large mouth and a bit appetite for gossip. So it was no wonder she’d already managed to receive the latest even if it was barely early afternoon.

 The other, who went by Mari, also probably short for something but she would never tell anyone, rolled her eyes at the younger woman. Mari was one and twenty, but her mind was mature beyond her years.

 “You must not believe everything you hear, your ears will fall off one day, you little tyrant”

 Freiya pulled an offended frown, “No! I heard such news right from the source, while I was attending to the Queen. She said herself that the Princess will return to contest some…birthright or something like that”

 The little maidservant raised her head and gave Mari an amused look, “You should not be listening to them while you attend to them”

 “You get away with it if you pretend you’re not listening at all” Freiya snaps back with a mischievous smirk, “the Queen is understandably not thrilled with their arrival”

 Mari huffed a laugh, “Neither are the Princes”

 “Why is that?” she asks with a confused lilt of her head,

 Despite being younger, Freiya talks over Mari when she’s about to open her mouth. Such a carefree little thing, it made her laugh. She cared not about such hierarchies.

 “Supposedly they are here for the little Prince Lucerys’ ‘right’ to Driftmark”

 Mari wrinkles her nose in distaste, “Prince Lucerys? The…”

 “Exactly” Freiya responds,

 “What on earth are you two talking about?” she asks, completely lost.

 Mari sighs, “Prince Lucerys is the one who took Prince Aemond’s eye all those years ago, both merely children” she explains, folding the damp cloth in her arms, “the Queen was so distressed for her son, she barely allowed him from her sight”

 For a very split second, something akin to sympathy washes over the little maidservant. But then underneath that is another feeling still. Something questioning.

 “When are they to arrive?”

 “Allegedly, within a few days” Freiya responds excitedly, ecstatic to receive some drama in her no doubt monotonous maidservant life.

 For a man who had been so wronged in his past, with such a traumatic past, to turn into the person he was today. Someone who could be cruel, taking the little power she had in her own life into his own, greedy for more. She had done nothing to him but merely exist and attend to him, as was her job. And she wracked her brain about it. What had she done to incite such cruelty in him, if anything at all? What harm could she do to him in her position, that he had not done to her a million times over.

 With her heart weighing heavy in her chest, after scrubbing the living daylights out of the linen, she carried the dirty water back with Freiya, chatting idly. She was good company, she had to admit, even if she was obsessed with the inner workings of the royal’s lives. As melancholic as the little maidservant felt, she let out perhaps her first genuine laugh when Freiya ‘accidentally’ bumped some of the water over the front of her dress. She’d given the young girl a friendly swat and told the little tyrant to scarper.

 If what Freiya and Mari had said was true, there was a possibility that his typical Targaryen temper could possibly become worse. Perhaps irreparably so.

  She waited in his chambers until it was impossibly dark. Later than usual, Aemond eventually returned, in a much more sour mood than this morning.

 She’d knelt in front of the fire, placing more wood on it to heat the room in the cold that had captured it now that the sun had gone down. Was this how it was to be now? In the morning, he was one person, not burdened by the mood of others and his own not dependent on what had happened during the day. And at night, after the weight of his day had weighed heavy on his tired soul, his desire for release, of any kind, was insatiable.

 “Your grace” she greeted with a bowed head, her soft, fearful voice barely carried above the crackling of the flames. Quite the opposite of the other night, while he was still angry, he let the door shut softly behind him. She just stared at his legs as they made their way towards her, and a flash of her pushing against his legs, in an attempt to push him away from her zips through her head. He was so much larger than her, she thought. It would take no effort on his side at all to subdue her.

 She notices how he stands before her, fists clenched white.

 “My little maidservant does not meet my eye today” he says with a hint of irritation to his tone, “Why”

 She swallows nervously, trying desperately to regain her breath “Apologies, your grace.Just some problems at home that are of no matter”

 When he remains still and quiet, she worries for a moment that she’s overshared, spoken too much and that depending on what mood he’s in, she might have set him off.

 “What problems” he asks, and despite him asking, she gets the impression from his tone of voice that he is completely and utterly unbothered about the reason and just wants to hear her speak. She looks up to meet his eye and immediately wishes she hadn’t. His gaze is cold, uncaring, dark, like she is an annoyance.

 “My…siblings, your grace. I am required to send them more coin, to pay for their support…” she replies nervously, insistent that she has shared too much information and that he very much does not care. She sees this, because his cold expression does not change.

 His eyes roam her face, seeing the discomfort there at her situation. But he cannot find it within himself to care. All he cares to remember is how her smooth hip felt that very morning, how hard he had squeezed it, how he had dreamt for his fingernails to create little indents in her soft skin.

 “You do not smile in my presence” he says simply.

 At this, her lips part in shock. What did he mean? And also, what reason would she have to smile in his presence while attending to him?

 “Pardon me, your grace?” she says in a quiet voice, immediately sucking in air as he steps closer to her. Her feet didn’t move from their spot.

 “With the other maidservants, you smile so widely and yet in my presence…” he hums, his finger reaching out to twirl the little piece of hair at the side of her face once more, as if obsessed with it, “...I believe you fear me, sweet girl”

She could say nothing but try and keep her breath steady. He was right, he frightened her. But what woman would not be frightened at the way he leered at her, kept her in his sights firm and unyielding.

 Only a woman who would want it, she thought.

 “But no matter,” he says, his hand trailing to her the buttons of her dress at the top of her chest. Undoing the first…then the second…”I will have your fear if I can have nothing else” he smirks only slightly.

 Her brain was all over the place. He said it with such conviction. Uncaring if she had wanted any of it or not. She could feel her stomach bubbling in her gut, feeling as if she might either cry or vomit. Aemond could not help but smirk at her efforts to keep herself calm, and failing miserably. His hand barely floated over her chest, over her clothed nipple and she’d flinched only slightly, with a slight inhale of her sweet, hot breath.

 He had seen how she had smiled with her fellow maidservant, the way her dimples had shown on the upper apples of her cheeks, the pink that coloured them when she laughed. He had seen the way the little cock tease had water splashed down her front, turning her dress completely dark and sodden. Aemond would not be able to rid his mind of the image of her hardened nipples beneath the fabric for days, weeks, months to come.

 “Sit” he gestured to the end of the large bed, while Aemond stalked to the fireplace for a moment.

 She gathered her skirts in her shaking hands and sat herself down, closing her eyes to catch her breath, feeling as if the walls were closing in, and that the air was becoming difficult to breathe.

 When Aemond turned around, his eyepatch had been discarded and he was shucking off his leather doublet, with the cream undershirt the only thing beneath it. He walked with such purpose towards her, until his tall, broad form was completely staring and looming over hers. His sapphire eye caught the light of the fire and at this moment, he looked almost possessed.

 “I do not want your hair up when you are in my chambers”

 There was a beat of silence, timed by the beating of her heart.

“Well?”

 The intensity of his voice seemed to wake her from the impregnable fear for just a moment, and her shaking hands reached up for her hair again, quicker about her movements than she had been the previous time he’d aske-no, demanded for her to do so. It was wrong firstly to have her hair loose in his presence, but if anyone

 “Look at me”

 With her hair now falling in their waves down her back, she barely has time to look up before his large hand flies to her jaw,  fingers squeezing painfully at her cheekbones, almost bruisingly. He pulls at her face slightly upwards and towards him. Aemond revells in the shocked and doe-eyed expression on her face and the way her skin blossoms pink under his firm, hard touch. His lips are drawn into a tight line, as if getting angrier by the second, and in his grasp he felt her tremble.

 “Did you enjoy my cock in your throat” he says, his thumb drawing across her bottom lip, only slightly dipping inside into the warm embrace of her little mouth. He can see that she’s too shocked to say anything, her pupils shaking.

 “Did you enjoy swallowing my spend…” he goes on, his thumb pressing against the wet muscle of her tongue, emphasising where his spend had been before he had demanded her to swallow it.

 If he dipped beneath her skirts, would she bet as wet as her mouth? Accepting his digit so willingly.

 “I think you did, sweet girl”

Did I?

 He collects the wetness of her mouth on his thumb, still grasping her face tightly. When she briefly looked down, she saw how hard he was beneath his breeches and the memory of how he had felt in her mouth, heavy and hot. As well as how he’d tasted. At this she feels her gut tighten.

 He pulls his thumb out her mouth, again, smearing the wetness over her lips and then her face as he grips her tightly once more.

 “Do you like this job, sweet girl” he asked and her heart froze in fear.

 “Yes, your grace” she whispered back,

 “Then you will do as I say if you wish to keep it”

 He quite forcefully pushes her back, making her support her torso on her elbows, looking over to the bed with parted lips when Aemond kneels on the floor, his eye forever on her face as he rucks up her skirts. It’s here she realises what he may intend to do and goes to shut her legs tight against each other.

 “Are you going to be a good little maidservant and be quiet?”

 She nods, voice failing her. Not that she would trust it to be steady at the moment.

 If it were possible, his mood flattened completely. Aemond growls and hooks both his hands under her thighs and pulls her closer to him, his fingers digging into her bare, soft skin.

 “Your grace, I-” she starts. Aemond glares right at her, forcefully parting her thighs and painfully squeezing the meat of her legs, emitting a whimper from her.

 “What did I fucking say about being quiet” he snarls, hooking his fingers into her smallclothes and ripping them down her legs. She would shut her legs tightly if Aemond were not so strongly holding them apart, and she feels her heart going fast when she feels his hot breath on the juncture of her thigh. His tongue runs over the line there, inhaling deeply the heady scent of her sex, which he has no doubt is seeping with arousal.

 “Stay still while I taste you, sweet…sweet girl”

 He dips between her thighs and sees her bare cunny before him. It was just as he’d imagined it, the luscious hair framing it just for him was waiting there, his thumb ran over her lips, parting them to brush his thumb over her clit. She was wet. So wet. Her slick aided his movements and when he’d brushed over her swollen bundle of nerves, she’d released a shuddered breath, tensing up somewhat. Aemond was tempted to reprimand her, but now faced with her perfect cunt right before him, ready for his taking, he cannot find it within himself to care.

 He dives in, flattening his tongue against her sex and he feels her body jolt beneath his hold, fingers curling into her hips.

 “Mm…” he hums. She tasted so sweet for him, the intoxicating taste of her arousal flooded his tongue, waking his nerves and something deep, dark and ancient within. His eye opened somewhat to look up at her, being so good and quiet for him and he smirked against her cunt, quickening his motions when he saw that she’d laid back, keeping her hand over her mouth to obey him. Aemond watched as her chest and body writhed with each movement of his wet muscle against her clit, her other hand fisted the bedsheets and he could faintly hear her whimpering behind her hand.

 Aemond pushed her legs further apart, granting his tongue access to her wet and waiting entrance, he dipped inside, using it to fuck her repeatedly. The only sound in his otherwise quiet chambers was slapping of his mouth against her cunt, lapping up her juices with a new vigour. He thought, the longer he continued, the more addicted he would become to it. He wanted to have this sweet cunt for all his meals; it gave him life and sustenance.

 But it wasn’t enough.

 His little maidservant was not letting go of herself enough. He could not bring her to peak like this.

 He wanted her climax on his tongue, like she had his.

 Aemond moves his tongue out of her, running up slowly to her bundle of nerves and sucks eagerly, giving her a new, deeper sensation in her gut that makes her hips buck against his face against her will. A new sound floods out her mouth against her hand that has Aemond’s ears perked up and his lips turn up into a smirk. He briefly breaks his contact with her to pull her hand from her face, pinning it by her wrist to the bed harshly.

 “I want to hear you when I make you peak”

 Her eyes are shut tightly, but Aemond doesn’t wait for an answer and goes right back in, licking and sucking her clit, one hand forever at her thigh to keep her open for him. He can feel her body trembling beneath him and the little sounds of her breath as she tries to keep it under control, and now that her hand is not muffling her sounds, he drinks in the various whimpers and tiny, tiny moans with renewed purpose.

 She lets out halfway between a choked whimper and moan when Aemond mercilessly thrusts one finger into her, he moans against her sex at the tightness of her, and how she would feel when she was finally wrapped around his cock. How she’d squeeze him as he used her body for himself and milk him for his spend when her cunt convulsed with the force of her climax.

 Aemond moved his head side to side against her sex, licking every bit of her he could as her moans had become louder. Stray tears ran down her face at the foreign feeling. It was strange and slightly unpleasant, as she’d never put anything inside her before. But his finger crooked up inside her slightly, rubbing against somewhere she never knew existed and it gave her the urge to move her hips, searching for something.

 Uncaring if she was ready, Aemond hastened all his movements and inserted a second, stretching her little cunny with his long, thick digits. He thought she would need to be prepared, for when he would eventually have his cock inside of her.

 It would hurt. It would be painful.

 And it was this that excited him the most.

 As he fucked her with his fingers, focussing his tongue on her clit quickly, he noted the way her body began to spasm in his grip. She was close, just that bit more.

 He loved it when her pink lips parted to give him a quiet moan. It was like praise. And when he concentrated the pads of his fingers against that rough spot within her, her back began to move off the bed, her breath coming in hurried pants. Her tears joined the rest, sliding down her face at the absurdity of the feeling she was having. What was this? Was this pleasure? What everyone else sought so much? It didn’t feel entirely pleasurable, she thought. But there was something deep, dark about the way it was being drawn from her that set shame heavy in her.

 “Come on, sweet girl…” Aemond murmurs against her, “come on”

 He keeps his mouth on her the entire time, body wracked with painful pleasure. So much so that even her voice doesn’t manage to form coherently and her mouth is slack open, frozen in place as the warmth floods her body against her will.

 “That’s it…” he coos, all while his tongue earnestly laps up every single bit of her climax from her, drinking it down like the air he breathes. Aemond can’t help but smile, now that he’s tasted her, seen what she looks like when she comes apart. He can’t not have her and fully intends to have her little cunny at his disposal. One hand dips beneath his breeches, to pump himself, feeling that he did not need much friction to climax himself.

 Her body slumps against the mattress, limbs now entirely limp and feeling both warm and empty at the same time. She eventually cracks her eyes open when Aemond delivers one more warm, stripe upwards, collecting what little is left of her. She looks up to the ceiling, to the canopy and realises her vision is fogged with tears and her hand comes up to wipe at them, now being able to feel the wetness of them against her cheeks.

 Aemond had travelled up her body, still furiously stroking his cock, aching for completion.

 “Do not let it go to waste” he ordered, holding his manhood close to her mouth as he fisted it furiously, fingers once again running through her hair to grip harshly as he pulled at the back of her head.

 Without warning, he shoves his cock into her mouth, prodding the back of her throat and moaning loudly when she splutters around it, having not been prepared. She could smell his musky scent, now even more amplified from his efforts on her previously and it completely flooded her senses. Not a second later, was the familiar flood of his spend into her mouth as he softly thrusted into her, wanting to prolong his friction.

 He took one long breath and pulled his cock from her mouth. But her eyes were firmly shut, whimpering as she swallowed the thick, bitter substance. Again.

 She had a strange thought. That there may have been more spend than food in her belly. And it rattled her beyond comprehension.

 Why am I crying, she thought, having not felt them even come. Her body felt strange, like she was on the outside looking in at herself and she wondered how pathetic she must look. She wondered how other people would look at her if they saw what trouble she’d gotten herself into. What other people thought…

 …it frightened her.

 Regaining her strength, she finally sits up, looking around bleary-eyed to see Aemond, on the other side of the room, already seated in his armchair with a cup of wine in one hand, watching the flames of the fire in front of him. She could see from this angle that his lips and the skin around it was glistening and his other hand was at his lips, smearing whatever wetness was there more over them. She wondered how long she had been laid there.

 In the soft light of the fire, he almost looked handsome. She thought that he, Aemond Targaryen, would be remembered as a skilled swordsman, rider of the largest dragon in the world, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. History books would record him for centuries to come, on his skills, his wit, his fearsome victories.

 And she…

 …She who had been owned first by her father. And now owed her life to servitude under him. She had always been owned and perhaps always would be. Any husband would own her as well as her money and her children, doomed by the determination of her sex to perform the duties of them for the rest of her life.

 History would not remember her. It would scarcely even know she existed in the first place. Even her own name would not even be remembered by those she worked alongside, she feared. Those she called her friends.

 Forgotten. Replaceable.

 Gathering her breath and wiping her face, she’s unable to control the soft pants of her weak cries and pulls her dress back over herself. Aemond turns, but does not look at her straight on.

 “Leave” he orders flatly.

 She would be shocked, if it hadn’t already happened before. So she took shakily to her feet, feeling entirely degraded and empty within, despite the hum of pleasure still present inside. He didn’t say anything else as she struggled out of the door, her hair still loose around her shoulders.

 It was only when she was in the lit safety of the hallway that she finally allows herself to comprehend what happened and a few more fat tears make their way down her face and her neck.

 Am I his maidservant, or his whore.

Maidservant.

 Whore.

 Whore.

 The way back to the staff quarters was long and wracked with quiet sobs.

 She’d brushed Hedi’s shoulder as she walked past and Hedi had looked wide-eyed at her, as if only just recognising her with her hair down. Hedi’s face immediately fell into a sombre, sorrowful one,

 “Child, what is wrong?” she says, cupping her face in both her hands and looking over her for any sign of injury. She simply shook her head and hastily wiped her cheeks til they were red,

 “I am just tired, please Hedi I-”

 Hedi pressed a hand to her forehead, acting very much like a mother, despite the age gap being small between them, but she found no fever there and she was only very warm from all her crying.

 “Why is your hair down, child?” she asks hesitantly, her eyes darting about her face in search of a clue. Hedi had noticed. Her loose hair, her two undone buttons, the shake of her hands.

 “Please, I just need sleep” she insisted unconvincingly, tearing herself from Hedi’s grasp to wander through the halls to her own quarters, intent on scrubbing herself raw once again with the brush. Desperately trying to erase any memory of touch.

 Hedi had watched her disappear, the other few maidservants followed with their looks, cementing their thoughts in their sour expression.

 “Whore”

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise​ @valeskafics​​

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr   @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx  @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid​ @thedamewithabook​ @hiatuswhore​ @apollonshootafar​ @ladymarg0t​ 

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[aboxofcereales]

I’m slowly working on a piece of paper about changes in Wyll’s character between early access and game release, but I don’t really know when I’m going to finish it, in the process I’m more and more fascinated by potential story of Wyll’s parentage and their own story. Although mostly this is purely headcanon, but may I suggest the following:

There are few things we learn about Wyll’s mother during the game.

After stumbling upon Arabella in Shadow-Cursed Lands, a following dialogue may happen: “You've talked about your father, but not your mother. Why's that?” “Because there's nothing to tell. She died when I was born. As a boy, my bond with father was too deep to miss the mother I never had. Now, well - I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought about my mother. What life would've been like if she'd lived.”

During romance scene in Act 3, Wyll says: “My mother always said the Wilden Oak's acorns held just a touch of wishing magic.”

There are two weapons, belonging to Ulder Ravengard, which describe some details about Wyll’s parents - Duke Ravengard's Longsword (can be found on Ravengard himself) and Ravengard's Scourger (can be found at High Security Vault 5 in The Counting House): Longsword: “Cradling his newborn son awkwardly, the Duke's face pulled into a rictus of misery. His love Francesca smiled at him, briefly, and died. He stared at her until the boy cried, and he told the boy it would be all right, though he himself did not believe it.” Scourger: “Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.”

To sum up, what we learn in-game is that Wyll’s mother was named Francesca, she died giving birth to Wyll, Ulder loved her and their son, and tried his best to raise Wyll well.

Ulder’s parenting style deserve its own piece, but I think its obvious that he cares for Wyll deeply, though often failed to show it, acted to strictly, to righteously. Ultimately, it fall down on Ulder character, the “Murder in Baldur’s Gate” describes him as following: “Blaze (Major) Ulder Ravengard is the incarnation of militarism. The only beauty he appreciates is precision, and the only quality he values is utility. He believes that personal ornamentation other than military insignia is a waste. A meticulous man, he forgets nothing and forgives less. Ravengard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters. Someone might consider him handsome, if not for his constant scowl and many scars.

Blaze Ravengard is Marshal Abdel Adrian’s right hand man. He is both the second Highest ranking officer in the flaming fist and the warden of Wyrm’s rock. Ravengard’s soliders do not love him. They do respect his leadership, however, and pay for it with their obedience, which is exactly how Ravengard prefers things.

Naturally stolid and terse, Ravengard is slow to speak and make decisions in any arena expect the battlefield. Once he decides on a course of action, Ravengard is relentless in it’s pursuit. He believes the Flaming Fist is the Gate’s backbone and the key to the city’s strength.

With the Death of Marshal Abdel Adrian Ravengard has risen to the Rank of Marshal of the Flaming Fists.”

What’s interesting, its noted that Ulder Ravengard was never married, and the longsword description calls Francesca Ulder’s love, not bride or wife. This more then likely mean that Wyll was born out of wedlock, as Wyll is about 16-17 during  the death of Abdel Adrian.

When talking with Counseller Florrick, when Wyll is reveled to be Ravengard’s son, he says “The circumstance of my birth is no matter of pride for neither me nor my father.” This may refer to Wyll’s birth leading to his mother’s death or the fact that Wyll’s technically was born a bastard. In the latter case, Wyll’s mom might as well have been a worker at  Sharess' Caress, with whom Ulder could have had a one night stand, but its specifically stated that Francesca was loved by Ulder, and of what I read about the Grabd Duke he seems to be the man who would marry her out of duty and responsibility of getting her pregnant. So there should be another reason behind it.

 There’s this banter between Shadowheart and romanced-Wyll:

“Someone of your social stature, Wyll, are they typically allowed to pursue their heart whims as they like?” “I don't have to ask for permission if that's what you mean.” “Really? I'm surprised, I thought dowries, alliances and old blue blood feuds might have to be balanced against your desires.” “I'm my own man, Shadowheart, in this sense at least.”

Wyll’s a hopeless romantic, who wishes for a happily ever after with her one true love, and Ulder apparently never minded the potential social status, despite him and Wyll being a high-ranking member of society.

Of course, Ulder’s marital status and Wyll existing can be explained by the fact that Wyll being Grad Duke Ulder Ravengard’s  son was a part of the character rewrite. It was datamined before that originally was supposed to be a great-grandson of Duke Eltan, the founder of the Flaming Fist and a Grand Duke of the city of Baldur's Gate in the 1300s DR. And the bits of this storyline are still presented in the game: Fist Art Cullagh with his original writ of duty, signed by Eltan himself, pre-final part of Wyll quest taking place in the Iron Throne, where Eltan nearly assassinated.

Currently, House Eltan, the descendants of Duke Eltan, is one of the noble patriar families. The Forgotten Realms wiki states that: “The family held partial financial ownership of the Flaming Fist mercenary company. At one point however, they were forced to sell their interest to help pay significant debts they had incurred.”. Which I believe corelates with what EA!Wyll spoke of his father (the man saw any shining bauble he liked and took it, and my hand were ever so stinky or smt along those line).

So, what if Wyll is still Elatn’s great-grandson through hid mother? What if somewhere along 1460s DR Francesca Eltan, a granddaughter of a once Grand Duke of the city and a member of  patriar family, met Ulder Ravengard, a son of a poor blacksmith and a mercenary of The Flaming Fist, steadily ascending through its ranks? What if Franceesca taught the stern and disciplined Ulder to dance, read to him her favorite stories and poems under the Wilden Oak, made him on other things then duty and order? What is if their time together resulted in Francesca getting pregnant with Wyll? What her family did not approve of the union due to Ulder being merely a mercenary, who hailed from the Lower City, or they wished to marry her off to someone who could aid with the family’s financial problems? What if Francesca ran away, hoping that the birth of a grandchild could convince her family to attend their wedding afterwards? What if Wyll’s love of dancing and dreaming came from the mother he never knew?

[brother-emperors]

What do you mean when you say that Pompey is a lover in a story of inescapable violence? I am extremely intrigued

the Late Republic is a stage of violence intent on gorging itself on this violence, the structure of the system leaves no other outcome.

Pompey is both someone born into this cycle and someone who is an acting hand of violence. He fashions himself after a military ideal, Alexander the Great, he positions himself as Sulla’s successor in the arena of political spectacle (rising/setting sun), he is Rome’s conquering hand.

He’s also, in Plutarch’s biography, intensely aware of matters of love and romance and does not treat them as an idle and casual affair. It is, in some way, an inherent part of his character. He is the ideal of a husband, even if it conflicts with whatever other ideals he’s supposed to embody, and apparently trades in his role as a general to remain in Rome with his wife.

We are told that Flora the courtesan, when she was now quite old, always took delight in telling about her former intimacy with Pompey, saying that she never left his embraces without bearing the marks of his teeth. Furthermore, Flora would tell how Geminius, one of Pompey's companions, fell in love with her and annoyed her greatly by his attentions; and when she declared that she could not consent to his wishes because of Pompey, Geminius laid the matter before Pompey. Pompey, accordingly, turned her over to Geminius, but never afterwards had any thing at all to do with her himself, although he was thought to be enamoured of her; and she herself did not take this treatment as a mere courtesan would, but was sick for a long time with grief and longing. (…) Moreover, Pompey also treated the wife of Demetrius his freedman (who had the greatest influence with him and left an estate of four thousand talents) with a lack of courtesy and generosity unusual in him, fearing lest men should think him conquered by her beauty, which was irresistible and far-famed. But though he was so extremely cautious in such matters and on his guard, still he could not escape the censures of his enemies on this head, but was accused of illicit relations with married women, to gratify whom, it was said, he neglected and betrayed many public interests.

Plut. Pomp. 2

All this won him admiration and affection; but on the other hand he incurred a corresponding displeasure, because he handed over his provinces and his armies to legates who were his friends, while he himself spent his time with his wife among the pleasure-places of Italy, going from one to another, either because he loved her, or because she loved him so that he could not bear to leave her; for this reason too is given. Indeed, the fondness of the young woman for her husband was notorious, although the mature age of Pompey did not invite such devotion. The reason for it, however, seems to have lain in the chaste restraint of her husband, who knew only his wedded wife, and in the dignity of his manners, which were not severe, but full of grace, and especially attractive to women, as even Flora the courtesan may be allowed to testify.

Plut. Pomp. 53

Nevertheless, the marriage was displeasing to some on account of the disparity in years; for Cornelia's youth made her a fitter match for a son of Pompey. 3 Those, too, who were more critical, considered that Pompey was neglect­ful of the unhappy condition of the city, which had chosen him as her physician and put herself in his sole charge; whereas he was decking himself with garlands and celebrating nuptials, though he ought to have regarded his very consul­ship as a calamity, since it would not have been given him in such an illegal manner had his country been prosperous.

Plut. Pomp. 55

The messenger, finding her in this mood, could not bring himself to salute her, but indicated to her the most and greatest of his misfortunes by his tears rather than by his speech, and merely bade her hasten if she had any wish to see Pompey with one ship only, and that not his own. When she heard this, she cast herself upon the ground and lay there a long time bereft of sense and speech. At last, however, and with difficulty, she regained her senses, and perceiving that the occasion was not one for tears and lamentations, she ran out through the city to the sea. Pompey met her and caught her in his arms as she tottered and was falling. "I see thee," she cried, "husband, not by thy fortune, but by mine, reduced to one small vessel, thou who before thy marriage with Cornelia didst sail this sea with five hundred ships. Why hast thou come to see me, and why didst thou not leave to her cruel destiny one who has infected thee also with an evil fortune so great? What a happy woman I had been if I had died before hearing that Publius, whose virgin bride I was, was slain among the Parthians! And how wise if, even after his death, as I essayed to do, I had put an end to my own life! But I was spared, it seems, to bring ruin also upon Pompey the Great."

So spake Cornelia, as we are told, and Pompey answered, saying: "It is true, Cornelia, thou hast known but one fortune to be mine, the better one, and this has perhaps deceived thee too, as well as me, in that it remained with me longer than is customary. But this reverse also we must bear, since we are mortals, and we must still put fortune to the test. For I can have some hope of rising again from this low estate to my former high estate, since I fell from that to this.”

Plut. Pomp. 74-75

I have some vague thought in here about how Pompey was entrusted with Rome’s safety, and that conflicts with his Lover status because you can’t love something more than Rome without Rome deciding to cast you out, and it also prevents him from reclaiming his Soldier role in the ensuing war with Caesar. Doomed by Rome, doomed by Love, doomed by Fortune, etc. but also simply the inevitable cycle of war and violence, the ever turning wheel of Rome.

[lunamayisreading]

ALICE ROSSI, lead singer of Slayer! [@infamous-if OC]

Fun facts!

✮⋆˙ Alice is a proud born and raised argentinian!! (Her name was actually Alicia but she legally changed it to Alice.)

✮⋆˙ She insisted on the band somewhat matching styles (or a certain color palette at least) but after Seven left the band she just gave up on the concept.

✮⋆˙ After Seven left, she got pretty resentful towards the others and considered leaving herself but since she lost (whom she thought was at the time) the love of her life, she decided to make Slayer a sucess, no matter what. The band was all she had left.

✮⋆˙ Which doesn't mean she's attached to the band, necessarily. She won't think twice about going solo if the band ever breaks up.

✮⋆˙ Has written songs about Seven post-breakup but never even attempted to record one. She couldn't bring herself to show that wound to the world. Alice has gotten over Seven now but she wishes they could talk it out and get some closure.

✮⋆˙ Loves red and black and star motif on her clothes!

✮⋆˙ She feels like she's constantly putting on a performance, even with the band. (She admits to herself she can be a little fake, or two faced... but it's all for the band's sucess.)

✮⋆˙ Has the biggest crush on Orion and has been trying to make Orion give her a chance pretty much since they met. Whenever she's with Orion she feels herself relax a little and she wishes Orion would feel the same way.

✮⋆˙ Every year on her birthday she records a cover from one of her favorite songs and uploads it on her personal channel. The most viewed is Misery Business by Paramore.

I have so many thoughts about her but it would get too long lol. I am not normal about her and Orion (and this IF, tbh) at all!!!

[artiststarme]

Things never really went to plan for one poor Eddie Munson. His fate was sealed from his very first breath, his life would be a tragedy. And so, the universe set out to make him suffer.

It was like all the cards in his life were stacked against Eddie. He was born to a Bonnie and Clyde type of couple with Bonnie running away from the commitment of a family as soon as she could. Dick Munson was all too betrayed by the abandonment of his partner in come and set to destroy everything he had left. He cut ties with his brother, turned to a bottle, and drowned the sounds of his son’s screams out with meth and benzos. It was only a matter of time before he was arrested from a robbery gone bad with enough drugs to keep him behind bars for life.

Poor Eddie was sent to live with the uncle he hardly remembered. He was thrown into a loving trailer in a town full of hate. The kids at school ostracized him the moment they laid eyes on him, his bruised eyes and shaven head spoke all too lowly of his character. If he were lucky, he’d only get a few jaunts and swirlies but if he weren’t, he’d arrive home with another black eye or limp to hide from Wayne.

High school wasn’t much better. Just like middle school, the kids and teachers alike hated him. He blew off school and started selling drugs underneath people’s noses to help Wayne with the bills that were drowning them. He did make some friends, other loners that craved friendship and togetherness they’d never received anywhere else.

It turned out that he was gay. He knew as soon as he saw Steve Harrington’s shirt come off in the locker room and knew he was fucked. He was already the outsider no one liked, it made sense that something else would come up to make him even more different than everyone else in the suffocating small town. The worst part wasn’t the fact that people might find out. It was the part where no one he would ever have a crush on would ever like him back, least of all Steve Harrington whom had girls falling at his feet and guys wishing to be him.

As if it couldn’t get any worse, his skipping school held him back and made him even more of a loser than before. Eddie truly felt like the dumb-as-shit trailer trashed that everyone always told him he was. So he stopped trying completely. He fell into a persona adopted from his favorite artists, focused on his music and DnD, and tried to finally enjoy his life.

Then he saw hell on earth in the form of Chrissy Cunningham’s twisted body hovering in midair and fracturing with horrific snaps. He ran like the coward the universe had trained him to be and made himself the prime suspect in doing so. Eddie knew that there was no possible way to go back to how things were before. As fucked up as his life had been, he’d still miss his early morning coffees with Wayne and campaigns with the guys. As soon as the cops found him, he would be as dead as Chrissy.

So, he followed the kids out of fear. He felt like he was living in some sort of fucked up lucid dream. His long-reigning crush was there shirtless in his battle vest, Nancy Wheeler was there with fucking guns (plural), Robin the band geek was handling explosives, and the redhead that lived across the street from him was hanging on the edge of life fully dependent on a Walkman blasting shitty pop music. What the fuck, how was any of this real? He didn’t fully believe it until he felt the pain accompanying the bat bites and heard Dustin’s cries begging him to stay awake. It was only then that he realized the universe had royally fucked him over once again.

He knew with his luck, or lack of it, that he wouldn’t be waking up from this nightmare. His eyes slid shut for the last time and all Eddie could think was at least things would be better now than they ever were before.

When his eyes finally did open to a hospital room filled to the brim with his uncle and new friends, a tear dropped from his eye and his chest lightened. From then on, he knew everything would be so much better.

It seemed the universe had decided to call a truce and abandon the tragedy that had plagued young Eddie Munson. From then on, he wouldn’t have fate darkening his days. With the Party at his side, Steve Harrington’s hand in his, and his uncle’s Garfield mug on the hospital side table, Eddie Munson’s life began anew.

[drstrangedaughter]

𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒

✦ 𝐀/𝐍: I NEED to talk about Bi-Han and his hypothetical relationship with his father and mother, and how this affected him and his choices according to personal thoughts. Although Bi-Han is not a character I like, I am fascinated by his psychological introspection. I’m sorry for the angst, I love to think that all three Lin Kuei brothers love each other, I swear— these are all theories.

Ph: far2wi1

[mortal kombat 1] [bi-han]  [sub-zero] [lin kuei brothers] [headcanons] [daddy’s issues]

➛ you can ask for headcanons ideas in the ask-box; this is a side blog, I can’t answer in the comments; you can commission me for customize x reader scenarios and letters from you comfort characters

It all starts from an exchange of phrases between Bi-Han and Tomas at the beginning of a fight:

« If Mother were alive—»

« She would applaud my actions »

My thoughts immediately focused on Bi-Han's response, was it his bravado talking or veiled feelings? This led me to reflect on what relationship he might have had with his mother, about whom we know nothing. Doing some research I was able to learn that apparently the two Lin Kuei brothers were brought to China by their father, who was a secret operative in the United States, to be trained as Lin Kuei assassins, against their mother's wishes.

Not knowing how old they might have been when this happened, I can speculate that this event worsened the relationship between Bi-Han and his father, he probably preferred to spend time with his mother and seeing himself forcibly removed from her must have affected him. There are children who prefer the company of one of the two parents from an early age, and seeing with how much anger Bi-Han speaks of his father during the story I imagine that from an early age the preference was for the mother, probably due to compliance with the exuberant character of the eldest son, perhaps always reprimanded by his father. As the eldest son and therefore hereditary of the Lin Kuei, his father must have forced him to follow teachings and ideals dictated by his experience, totally in contrast with Bi-Han's ideas. Serve the people with modesty opposed to the desire for power over the people themselves.

Kuai Liang he demonstrated growing up that he followed his father's ideals religiously, and this may have been another trigger: your figurehead preferring your younger brother to you, when you should be the firstborn, the best. I would add that I have the headcanon that Kuai Liang was his father's favorite, and this really bothered young Bi-Han, who grew up with hidden resentment. Bi-Han carried within him the dualism of not wanting to follow his father's ideals by thinking differently and the incessant need to still be seen as better than his brother Kuai Liang, who was evidently preferred. He must have found that acceptance that his father did not give him in his mother, who must have celebrated his revolutionary ideas for the future of Lin Kuei.

Then the father decides to take the brothers to China away from their mother, who was the only source of celebration for Bi-Han. Here something must have completely broken and the hatred for the father exploded.

Another trigger was the arrival of Tomas, yet another person who wanted to follow his father's values ​​without questioning, stealing the show from the eldest son who claimed to be the head of the family's favorite. And equally hatred was born towards Tomas, how could someone who didn't have the same blood as his father be preferred to him?

« You will never be one of us » —Bi-Han felt the need to continually tell Tomas, perhaps to convince himself that he was superior, better.

The mother seems deceased, and this loss must have pushed Bi-Han to act against everything and everyone in his family, the loss of his mother was like having lost the only sincere support and gratification towards him. For him, perhaps his father was even responsible for the little time he spent with his mother, because he had pushed him and his brothers away to train without her wanting it.

At that point, letting the father die in his time of need was nothing more than the only solution, I wouldn't be surprised to know that it was Bi-Han who killed him. His ego was now out of control, he was in charge of the Lin Kuei, of his brothers, now he was the one with the power. And Bi-Han would follow his ideals, those celebrated so much by his beloved mother. So much so that it even tramples on the fraternal relationship.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Pls don't stop wiring for daemon anytime soon! I love that you write for the two pining for eachother. Can you write one where daemon is just so in love with her and praises the ground she walks on but they aren't together yet ?

She is my heart (Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader)

Daemon has always gone for what he wanted. The objects of his passion, he would inevitably possess. But you are different, in that you weren't his. Not yet. But he was already yours. Completely.

themes: pining, friends to lovers, whipped!Daemon 😏 ▪︎ masterlist

"Well?" Your soft inquiry reached his ears, "What do you think?"

Daemon snapped back into attention, having drifted away in thoughts of you. You had entered the room, clad in a beautiful new dress, one that displays your house sigil in an intricate pattern. The dress was something to behold, but you...

"You look absolutely ethereal, princess."

You blushed, not expecting such a straightforward comment. "Thank you, Daemon."

Daemon was your closest confidante in King's Landing. You had known him for years, and he's always been there through every significant event in your life.

You trusted him completely, as he did you. He had built quite a reputation for himself - Prince Daemon, the Rogue Prince. Dangerous, unpredictable, wild. But with you, he was just Daemon.

You rarely saw this dangerous side of him that everyone spoke of, except in some instances where he became quite protective of you. Daemon, when around you, always seemed content. Only you could drown out his anger, and quell his worries. The life that he was born into was an endless parade of politicking and strategy, but one thing that mattered more than all that - more than power, privilege, glory - was you.

"My father had this made, because as you know, I shall begin my courtship ceremony in a fortnight."

"Already?" Daemon started to worry. Was the dreaded event that soon?

I'm about to lose her, Daemon thinks, but how can I, when she might never have been mine?

"Yes, well, it is my duty to marry into a great house, even though that's not really what I desire."

"And what do you desire?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"All this makes me feel like a pawn in some game. If I am to marry, I would like it to be with someone who truly loves me, and whom I love in return. Not just some political arrangement."

Daemon takes your hand, caressing your fingers out of habit, "If the choice was all yours, do you have anyone in mind?"

"Someone I love?" you looked up at him, as he absentmindedly played with your hand. You knew the answer to that, and he did, too.

"Yes, that would be ideal," Daemon said, smirking then, but his tone is wholehearted, "someone you love, someone who would do absolutely anything for you, someone who would burn the whole world down for you, if you only said the word."

You heard his words for what they were, "I do."

He brought up his hand to your cheek, "Darling, so do I."

_____________________________

"Are you sure, brother?" King Viserys sat quietly in his chambers, while his brother fervently made his wishes clear to him.

"More than anything," Daemon's voice did not waver, "Wed her to me. I love her, brother. For me, she is the only one there ever was. The only one there will ever be. I love her as you loved Aemma. Issa ñuha prūmia."

Viserys looked at his brother fondly, knowing that he spoke the truth. From what he has observed himself, you and Daemon were made for each other. Daemon had never seemed more adamant, more certain about anything before. Without any agenda, without need for compromise. He only truly wanted you.

"Very well," Viserys smiled, squeezing Daemon's shoulder, "she shall be yours. Although, I have a feeling that she already is."

🐉🖤🐉🖤🐉🖤🐉

Issa ñuha prūmia = She is my heart.

[vivalabunbun]

Simple Wishes

Summary: He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. But would you still allow him to hold your hand?

Word Count: 3k 

Tags: alhaitham x gn reader, deshret x gn reader, jinni!reader, past lifes, reincarnation au, angst, character death, modern au, some spoliers of genshin lore 3.2 onwards, sfw, tragedy, fluff, daughter nahida

Authors Note: This is based on the theory that alhaitham is in some way connected to king deshret, either as a reincarnation or a descendant. The reader is a jinni that understands and feels human emotions, a mirror for gods to reflect upon and cultivate more wisdom from a human prospective. Enjoy!

Upon a golden throne, imposing and all-knowing sat King Deshret. King of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. The proud and all-mighty king of the red sands. On his left, stood a Jinni, quiet and patiently waiting upon the great king and its mistress, the goddess of flowers to return from her visit to a grand friend.

The Jinn followed their mother goddess everywhere, in a trance of maddening loyalty and love. Yet here you were, far from the side of your goddess, but loyally attending to the curiosity of the great king. 

Followers of the Scarlet King might be appalled by the notion that their great king, the embodiment of wisdom, would hold questions he needed another’s answers to. However, these followers never considered the simple truth. 

King Deshret did not understand humans. After all, how can gods and humans truly understand each other on the same level when biologically the two were on two completely different plains? 

“My dear friend, how can we have dominion over creatures whom we cannot understand? Do you find that wise?” 

He remembers those words the goddess of flowers had raised him upon a peaceful afternoon. Deshret knew she was right, humans were weak compared to gods, but because they were weak they became complex. It was that unknown difference between god and humans that bred the potential for disharmony.

He supposed that was the reason your creation caused quite the commotion among the three friends and Jinn.

For upon your birth from the nilotpala lotuses at the feet of your mistress, you wept. Your fresh eyes overflowing with tears from the moment they opened, stunning the Jinn and the goddess of flowers. You, who was born with the body of an adult, wept like a human newborn who cried from the violent impact of emotions that welcomed them into the world.

Upon this revelation, your mistress knelt down to cup your face in her hands, eyes wide with astonishment and jaw slacked. 

“You… you can feel human emotions…” Her warm fingers brushed the tears off your soft cheeks. 

From that moment onwards you served a crucial role to the three lords of the alliance kingdoms, you were their mirror to the human heart. When the gods found themselves stumped upon a human concept, you were there to explain. Hate, love, grief, you told them everything the human heart held, reflecting your felt wisdom upon them.

However, of the three gods, it was King Deshret who had the least understanding of the human heart. Perhaps that was why the goddess of flowers had stationed you to the left of the king. To answer his inquiries about those weak complex creatures. 

Gazing upon the hologram manifested in front of him, Deshret watched the day-to-day bustle of the humans in his kingdom. While the king did not understand humans, he understood that they were his responsibility to look after, protect, and care for.

He watched as a laborer, skin tanned from moving heavy bricks in the unforgiving sun, rushed towards the figure of a woman with calloused hands, from weaving cloth all day, which held a basket of fruits and bread. The exhaustion disappeared from the man’s face as he greeted the woman, her face turning tender in return as she gestured to the basket.

A smile broke through the hardened face of the large man upon seeing the basket, he reached for her hand and she intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked together as one.

A crease appeared between the brows of the king, as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to approach closer. 

“Tell me Jinni, what troubles are plaguing my kingdom so much that a man is moved to joy over the simple sight of bread and fruit? Have the harvest this year been lacking? Have there been less gold for the common people?” He inquired. 

You turned your eyes away from the hologram and towards your lord. 

“No, they were simply happy to see each other, my lord.” 

The lazy glance Deshret cast your way told you that he still did not understand, so you continued.

“The man was overjoyed to see that the woman he loves had remembered which fruits and breads he favored, and she was happy that she made him happy.”

“That was all? That simple?” His teal eyes questioning. 

“Yes, it is the small actions that mean the most.” You offered him a reassuring smile. 

Your answer only sought to confuse him further, this was why Deshret believed he could never understand humans. How could mere mortals experience more joy from being gifted a piece of bread, than he had from having miles of silk, baskets of gold, and fertile lands placed at the feet of his grand throne? 

As the king walked along the paved paths in his palace gardens, four guards by his side in each cardinal direction, and you behind and to the left of him. His grand strides brought about an air of power and confidence as the linen flowed about his figure.

The marching of the guards and their golden armor contrasted by the jingle of bells that hung from your ankles filled the void of silence. Then along the path almost hidden by the tall flowers, sat a young boy, who had not reached the age to develop words, babbling to himself as he waved a stick in his chubby hands. Suddenly the child halted all movement, seemingly staring at nothing in particular, it was as if he had turned to stone.

Deshret paused his movement, and in sync the king’s entourage halted in their positions. He wanted to see just what would happen next with this child. It was faint at first, a shaky breath then a low whimpered followed until at last the child opened his mouth and let out a great wail. The child’s plump cheeks were wet as they began to get flushed with a hue of red, the cries his small body released straining against his lungs.

A leaf that had detached from a branch had yet to hit the ground when the figure of a place servant dashed from behind a corner. The servant dove to her knees as she brought the child into her arms, cooing and bouncing him against her chest, paying no heed to the dirt staining her white linen dress. The child had dropped his stick as he grasped tiny handfuls of his mother's dress, muffling his cries as he pressed his face into her. The servant continued to bounce him as his breathing grew calmer, it was then that the servant noticed the presence of the great king.

In a panic the servant raised to her feet, the child still tightly clutched in her arms, as she bowed deeply begging the king to forgive her for her insolence. 

“Shall I throw her into the dungeons for trespassing in the private gardens?” A guard asked. 

“There is no need,” Deshret waved her away. 

Thanking the king profusely for his mercy, the servant rushed to get out of his sight, cradling her child protectively. With a flick of his wrist, he called you to his side once more. 

“Why did the child wail so sadly?” His eyes still lingering at the corner the servant disappeared behind. 

“His small body was overwhelmed by emotions, my lord.”

“Have I frightened the child?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “He cried because he was overwhelmed by loneliness and the feeling of the unknown. The child cannot form words yet, thus he cannot match words to his emotions. So he cried for his mother, for he knows she will soothe the prickling feeling of frustration.” 

Deshret paused as he thought for a moment. The guards standing still at their positions around their king. 

“Was that how you felt back then?” He was referring to the moment you took your first breath. 

“Yes, my lord.” Your eyes twinkled with a smile, joy felt from your lord’s surmise. 

Dawning a cloak that hid his grand stature and identity, King Deshret strolled among the streets of his kingdom. Every once in a while he believed that it was crucial for a ruler to walk in the footsteps of his people, to examine the condition of his kingdom from beyond his golden throne. He had even requested that you remove the bells from your ankles to not draw attention as you trailed behind him.

He walked through the crowded marketplace of hollering merchants and haggling customers trying to get the best prices, you making care to not stray too far from his left. As the edge of the market came the concentration of the crowd diminished, and he felt a bit more relaxed.

He gazed curiously back into the denser crowd, observing the ever-changing expressions on the people’s faces. Suddenly, a large figure pushed the sea of people, hollering like an animal in pain. 

“Help! A doctor! Someone get me a doctor! My daughter! Please! My daughter!” 

In the scarred arms of the warrior lay the limp body of a young girl, not a day past the age of seven. As the crowd cleared out of his way, one hundred pairs of eyes focused their attention on the shouting warrior. His scarred face looked through the crowd for someone to save his child, being met with one hundred pitiful looks. 

“Anyone? Please! Call a doctor! Please save my daughter!” 

A thin man raised his hand as he maneuvered his body through the gaps in the crowd, stopping in front of the towering man. The thin man reached his hand towards the neck of the limp girl, eyes meeting the father’s as if asking for silent permission. The scarred man gave a quick nod, eyes filled with desperate hope. The doctor held two thin fingers against the cold neck of the girl, searching diligently for a pulse, for a singular proof of life. Instead, he was met with stiff, cold flesh. Removing his hand, he pressed his lips into a thin line before looking back at the scarred man’s face. 

“I am sorry, your daughter is already started her journey into Duat (the realm of the dead).”

“No… no, no, no, no, please! Please tell me it’s not too late! She can be saved no?” The desperate father harshly clasped a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, shaking the thin man. 

The doctor could only silently shake his head. The man’s eyes wide with despair then narrowed with rage, then as his facial expression relaxed a hollow void began to fill his eyes. Sinking to the sandy path arms clutching around the husk that once was a bundle of joy, the warrior who had faced countless battles, as shown by the marks all along his body, wept pitifully. Around him slowly, the crowd began to move once again, tearing their eyes away from the scene as if to give the father a semblance of privacy.

King Deshret flicked his wrist, calling you to his side. He felt no movement, confused he turned towards you, only to see your sobbing eyes still pinned on the scene in front of you. A pained expression tugged down at the corners of your lips that usually held a small smile. 

“Why do you weep, Jinni?”

“I weep for the father whose daughter, death had snatched too soon from his arms.” Your voice low like a hush. 

“Why do you weep for him?”

“Because he is in pain, a child torn away from their parent opens a wound in the heart.”

“The man is a strong warrior, he can sire another child. There is no need to weep for a child that could not survive.” 

“My lord, a child can never be replaced, she will never go back to her father’s arms. A broken pot can be remade, moldy bread can be thrown out, but a dead flower can never bloom again.” Your eyes never left the figure of the mourning father, tears continuing to darken the stones on the path. 

Deshret opened his mouth ready to inquire more but then shut it just as quickly. He sensed that inquiring more would only cause the tears to flow heavier. 

He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. 

Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. 

“My lord, I beg of you to stop. This path you walk will only bring about more pain. My mistress, the goddess of flowers, has left this world. To ignore the truth while in search of knowledge forbidden will cause ruin.” You gripped onto the linen that pooled at his feet as you pleaded on your knees with the mourning king. 

“... Leave this palace, foolish Jinni.” Those were the last words he ever spoke to you. 

Yes, that was the word, foolish. That word does not describe you, no, it described him. A foolish king that did not understand his own heart. Foolish king that gambled everything and lost. His kingdom and riches shallowed by the raging sand storms, his people poisoned with madness (forbidden knowledge) by his own hands, and the once proud and all-mighty king no longer even had a physical body.

It was quiet in the temple where King Deshret hovered, he already knew what must be done to save his people, to save his people from himself as the forbidden knowledge pulsed like poison through his conscious. 

“We meet once more, my lord.” You stepped in front of him. 

He thought he would never see you again after he casted you out of the palace, your appearance stayed faithfully to how he remembered. But you were a bit more haggard, hands more collapsed, skin duller. You must have been exhausting your powers to try to mitigate the madness that plagued the humans you loved so much. Despite the fact you barely had the power to maintain your physical form, your eyes still twinkled as you called out to him. 

“I shall aid you, my lord. I will be the vessel for your sacrifice.” 

 This means you were prepared to die alongside him, he knew it, and you knew it too. Mutually understanding that a great sacrifice was required for a chance of survival for the people of the red sand. Outstretching your hands to the star-like manifestation of Deshret, you signaled that you were ready. He slowly descended into your cupped palms, as a pure light began to engulf the room and your figures.

He no longer had arms to hold you, even though he deeply wished to. As he felt his essence and yours slowly began to break apart into dust like sand, a fleeting thought passed through his mind, brought up by a scene he had witnessed many years ago with you. 

In a different time, 

a different place,

 a different world…

Could he hold your hand while you walk together as one?

... 

“....er”

“.....tham?”

“Alhaitham!” 

His teal eyes snapped open, meeting yours as you stood in the doorway of his home office. Concern was written clearly on your expression, he must have dozed off while he was translating the text that was half finished on his desk. 

“What’s wrong dear?” You moved closer, pressing your palm against his forehead feeling for signs of a fever. 

Nahida was held snuggly in your other arm as her green eyes observed her father’s face, aranara doll dangling loosely in her grip. 

“Is papa sick?” Nahida questioned, beginning to stir in your arms. 

Words just would not form from his throat as he continued to stare into your eyes, his usually stoic face was replaced with a dumbstruck expression. Which only concerned you further, he observed as your brow began to furrow more, palms shifting trying to get a better gauge of his temperature. 

“Haitham, are you unwell? If so you should rest, me and Nahida can do the grocery shopping by ourselves.”

No, he did not want you to leave his side, at that moment he never again want to be apart from you. He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, removing it from his forehead as he stood up. 

“There is no need for such concern, I was just distracted, beloved.” He took Nahida from your arm and into his, shifting her into a secure hold. 

“Papa is healthy, now let us get the groceries before the market closes.” 

He heard you sigh, muttering something about how you worried that your husband was over-working himself. A silly concern, as if there was one thing he treasured close to the level of you and his daughter, it would be a healthy work-life balance. 

During the whole trip to the grocery store, Alhaitham was still a bit lost in thought. Movements a bit more relaxed and absent-minded than usual, Nahida still being carried in his arm as you pushed the cart. He found his eyes trailing towards the shiny wedding ring on your finger, with an emerald gem that matched the one present on his finger as well.

You had stopped in front of the display of fruits, concentrating on which fruit was the ripest and how to get the most value out of your money. Alhaitham found his hand itching to reach for yours, he did not try to suppress that desire. Allowing his hand to intertwine his long fingers with yours, wedding rings clinking together.

A look of surprise appeared on your face as you turned toward your ashen-haired lover. He was never really one for public displays of affection, so he could not fault you for your confusion, but he felt a smile tug at his lips as you accepted his actions with no further questioning. Returning your attention back to the piles of fruit waiting for your judgment.

Alhaitham felt at peace standing hand in hand with you under the fluorescent lights, as the sounds of other shoppers blended with the soft pop music from the store speakers.

A simple wish had been fulfilled. 

“Oh! This orange looks quite nice doesn’t it?”

“It is starting to mold on the underside.”

“Eh?-” 

fin~

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

[mediocre-daydreams]

rip-off

sirius black x slytherin!potter!reader

w/c: 2.9k

summary: sirius is so enamored with you, his best friend's sister, that he's too distracted to play properly. when a poor play by sirius renders you severely injured, he and james must handle the aftermath.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tensions were high between you and James the day of the first Gryffindor-Slytherin match of the year. Walking into the Great Hall together, you jumped up to tousle James’ untamable hair, earning a mocking laugh from him as you came up short, just managing to grasp the tangles at the back of his neck. You groaned.

“This is bullshit! My birth was a rip-off! You got every damn tall gene and I came second and you saved me none, you… you-” You were cut off by a pair of strong arms across your waist, lifting you in the air as you shrieked. Sirius grinned mischievously at you as you realized what he was doing. Practically tackling James, you jumped onto his back and clung your arm around his neck as you were finally able to dig your fist into James’ head as he let out a strangled yelp.

“Get off me, you pest! You should’ve never been born in the first place,” James shook you off as the three of you burst into laughter, Sirius shoving his friend forward as the two approached the Gryffindor table and you departed to the Slytherins.

“Your sister is… really something.” Sirius glanced over his shoulder at you, who was slapping your knee with mirth as you caught your breath at something Regulus had said. His stomach panged with jealousy— no, pre-game nerves—as he watched his younger brother swing an arm around your shoulders.

“She means well. Being friends with Regulus, I mean. I know you guys aren’t on the best terms, but I think they’re good for each other. Keeps the two of ‘em from hanging out with that crowd.” He juts his chin towards Severus, Avery, Bellatrix, and Mulciber.

“You’re right, it’s just… don’t you wish she was a Gryffindor sometimes? She’s fun and nice, and she gets along with the lot of us so well, and…” and pretty too, he thought guiltily.

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft on her, Padfoot. You know her, she’s an absolute menace.” James elbowed his friend good-naturedly. “Now eat. She’s also a mean seeker, and I am not about to get beat by my younger sister in the first quidditch match of the year.”

Remus caught Sirius’ eye, eyebrow raised subtly. Curse Moony and his stupid perception.

Sirius was caught up in his thoughts the rest of the morning, even as he was putting on his quidditch gear. Godric, what is wrong with you? Have you truly gone mental? She’s your best mate’s younger sister. Younger, too! Too young for you, and too good for you, and she’s James’ sister! James Potter, your friend who would kill you if he found out about your feelings. Which don’t exist, of course. No, you don’t have any feelings for her. It’s brotherly affection. It’s-

“PADFOOT!” James’ face was right in front of his. “You’ve been off your game all day, mate. We’re starting in 5, you gotta get your shit together. And I know you have a tendency to go easy on my sister—which I normally would appreciate, by the way—but this is war! On the pitch, she’s not my baby sister, she’s the enemy. Act like it!” James clapped as he led the team into the stadium, cheers exploding from each of the houses, minus Slytherin. Opposite the Gryffindors approached the Slytherins, led by their keeper and Captain, Emma Vanity, whom you had gushed about on multiple occasions. You wiggled your eyebrows at your brother, meeting Sirus’ eye with a poorly suppressed smile. Sirius pursed his lips to hide his own.

The older Potter and Vanity shook hands, his face immediately hardening as the young Madame Hooch called, “mount your brooms, please. Now, on your marks…” Hooch’s silver whistle cut through the stadium as the teams shot upwards. Davey Gudgeon’s dramatic throat-clearing as he amplified his voice filled the air.

“AND THEY’RE OFF! LOOKS LIKE MALFOY IS QUICK TO GRAB THE QUAFFLE WITH POTTER ON HIS TAIL; OHH, BLACK IS QUICK WITH THE BLUDGER AND POTTER HAS POSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE!” From your peripheral, you saw Mulciber lean forward on his broom to catch up to your brother, with Malfoy closing in on the other side.

“AND POTTER DODGES A BODY BLOW WITH A SLICK DIVE, LIVING UP TO HIS REPUTATION AND THAT BLOODY PRIZE I HAVE TO SCRUB DURING DETEN-”

“STAY FOCUSED, DUGEON.”

“Right, my bad Professor… THERE GOES THE LITTLE POTTER AFTER HER BROTHER, YOU KNOW THE TWO OF THEM ARE QUITE ATTRACTIVE, I’VE ALWAYS WONDERED IF THEY HAVE VEELA BLOOD-” With a huff, Gudgeon’s commentary was cut short with an impatient elbow from McGongall.

Your smile only grew at the Slytherins cheered your name; you relished the stinging wind against your cheeks. You swore you caught a glimmer of gold underneath James as he escaped Mulciber and Malfoy, but it was nowhere to be seen now. Returning to a circling position above the rest of the players, you made eye contact with the Gryffindor seeker, Patricia Rakepick, a seventh year who couldn’t help her soft spot towards you, despite the complaints of the older Potter. You grinned at each other, until Rakepick broke eye contact and whizzed right past you.

“RAKEPICK, LOOKING LOVELY AS EVER, HAS SPOTTED SOMETHING! POTTER IS JUST BEHIND- OW, LOOKS LIKE A NASTY HIT FROM MR. SIRIUS BLACK HAS INCAPACITATED WILKES. NEVER FEAR, ROSIER IN POSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE… MACDONALD’S BLUDGER MISSES… AND HE SCORES! 10-0!” The Slytherin stand roared, a sea of green and silver erupting from their seats.

While Wilkes pumped his fist and blew exaggerated kisses to the Slytherins, you took an opportunity to find Rakepick. There she was, with the snitch just a few meters away! 

“IMPRESSIVE SLOTH GRIP ROLL FROM RAKEPICK TO DODGE MEADOWES’ BLUDGER… LOOKS LIKE THE SNITCH HAS GOTTEN AWAY.” Sirius took a second to glance up at you, as if to assure you hadn’t been caught up in the bludgeoning. Of course, you were fine. You were a perfectly capable quidditch player; why wouldn’t you be fine?

“POTTER STEALS THE QUAFFLE FROM WILKES, WHO’S BACK IN THE GAME… NICE TWIRL FROM POTTER AS HE MISSES LESTRANGE’S BLUDGER… MALFOY COMES IN AND SLYTHERIN IS IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE AGAIN!” 

“Sirius Black, what in Godric’s fucking hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be bludgening Malfoy and his lot! Get your head in the game!” Sirius woke from his trance as fuming James flies past him, chasing after Lucius.

“MCKINNON INCOMING… SHE’S GOT THE QUAFFLE AND SHOOTS… AW, A GOOD SAVE FROM VANITY AND MALFOY’S GOT THE QUAFFLE AGAIN!”

The glint appeared right in front of your eyes. As Malfoy sped towards the Gryffindor goalposts, the snitch followed. Your blood raced with adrenaline as you wove between your older brother and the other chasers, hot on Lucius’ tail. Lucius was fast, but the snitch was faster.

“LOOKS LIKE THE YOUNGER POTTER HAS SPOTTED SOMETHING; COULD IT BE THE SNITCH? LOOK AT THAT- GOING HANDS FREE AS SHE FLIES OVER MALFOY’S HEAD… RAKEPICK COMING IN FROM THE LEFT…”

Amidst the chaos, the snitch had begun a rapid descent. You and Patricia Rakepick dove after it, but your smaller frame pushed completely against the handle of your broomstick gave you just that extra push of speed. Your fingers were mere centimeters from the snitch as Sirius raised his bat, knowing James would murder him if he let Gryffindor lose with 0 points just because of his reluctance to attack James’ little sister—perhaps even worse than what he’d do if he found out Sirius liked… no, Sirius didn’t… he was just…

In his internal fight, he hit the bludger with a resounding crack as it began spinning and gaining momentum as it whizzed towards you. It was too late for you to react before you were violently knocked off your broomstick, one arm reaching desperately for the handle. There was screaming from the stands as you fell through the air clutching your hands to your chest, but you couldn’t hear anything with your heart thundering in your ears. The players froze as James let go of the quaffle to race after his sister, your eyes closed as you cursed Hogwarts for not letting students apparate and cursed yourself for not being able to apparate anyways. Sirius, momentarily frozen, heard Remus and Peter’s voices shouting for him to do something, anything. His stomach twisted as he followed James down, hoping that at least one of them would be able to reach you in time.

He was wrong. You hit the ground with a dull thud and a whimper, followed by a crunch that made both James and Sirius wince. How many meters was that? Sirius didn’t want to know. Madame Pomfrey was quick to rush to your side while Madame Hooch motioned the players to come down for a time out.

“Give me space! Out of the way, boys, I need to see her.” Pomfrey fought her way past the panicking Sirius and James, who turned as they heard Remus and Peter’s footsteps approaching with Lily in tow; Regulus coming from the Slytherin stands. Sirius glanced at his younger brother, who pressed his lips together in a forced smile. Sirius was about to open his mouth and say something when Vanity stormed over, face flushed, Marlene and Dorcas following behind.

“Sirius. Fucking. Black.” She emphasized each word with a shove to his chest, standing a couple of inches above Sirius. “What was that? What were you thinking? You nearly killed her! Wait, did you kill her? Is she dead? Holy shit, you’re fucked up, you know that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” She was crouched next to you only moments later, gently brushing your hair out of your face with calloused fingers. Pomfrey swore under her breath, tapping her wand against your chest rhythmically, her fingers pressed against your neck checking for a pulse.

“Good news everyone! She’s not dead.” Pomfrey announced to the small group which had gathered around. “But the bad news is she’s severely fractured multiple ribs, appears to have major head trauma, which would make sense because she fell off her broom for the sake of this stupid, dangerous, purposeless game,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “a broken arm, and a bruised tailbone.” Pomfrey stood up and gestured to allow the students to check in on you as she and McGonagall spoke in harsh whispers.

“Shit. Shit, shit shit. Fuck.” James was the first to jostle through, collapsing to his knees in front of you. McGonagall didn’t even look his way as he spewed profanities. Sirius couldn’t move. It was his fault. He got distracted. James told him to get his shit together, not kill his little sister! And, like the screw-up he was, he did exactly the latter.

Your eyelids fluttered as you saw James’ terrified face above yours. With a weak groan, you opened your hand, the snitch in your scraped palm. “We win,” you chuckled hoarsely, wincing as pain tore through your chest.

“You’re such an idiot. You’re incorrigible, you know that? Can’t ever stay out of trouble,” tears slipped down James’ face, leaving tear marks as they washed away the grime on his cheeks.

“Is she okay?” Lily whispered in James’ ear, who was too caught up in his worries to even think about how close the love of his life was to his face. James could only sniffle. Dorcas rubbed Marlene’s arm while Peter patted Sirius on the back and Remus rubbed his shoulder, sensing his distress. Sirius could only watch as Regulus took your hand, fingers passing over the small scuff next to your eye with Sirius’ eyes fixed on his brother’s movements with a clenched jaw.

“Listen, you’re gonna be okay. I’ll take you up to the infirmary and stay with you until you feel better,” Regulus smiles reassuringly. “C’mon, up you go.” Pomfrey levitated you onto a stretcher and headed for the castle, Regulus by your side. McGonagall shooed Remus and Peter away, insisting they weren’t needed here and instructed the two captains to deal with their respective teams. But Sirius couldn’t move; it was as if he was tethered to the ground in chains of guilt and jealousy watching your figure disappear.

“You good, mate?” James threw his arm around Sirius’ shoulders as Peter and Remus walked away with concerned glances thrown over their shoulders.

“Prongs, I nearly killed your sister! Why the fuck are you asking me if I’m okay?” Sirius hissed as he pushed James away, storming towards the locker rooms.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” Sirius ignored him. “I said, don’t ignore me!” James slammed his hand against a locker as he blocked Sirius’ path, hoping to force a word out of his friend, but Sirius only looked at the ground.

“It’s not your fault, Pads. She’s the toughest quidditch player I know. More so than you and I, even,” he forced out a laugh. When Sirius continued to refuse to make eye contact, James grabbed him the shoulders and shook him roughly. 

“Hey, I hate to resort to this, but this isn’t bloody about you and your guilt. First of all, it’s not your fault. You did exactly what you were supposed to, and an accident happened, and she’s gonna get Pomfrey treatment, which means she’ll be on bed rest until she’s completely good. That woman’s ego could not handle having a patient leave without full recovery, you know that. She’s in good hands.” Sirius’ red-rimmed eyes flickered between James, looking for any trace of blame. There was none.

“Second, moping around and drowning in your emo feelings will do nobody any good, except maybe Slughorn, who’ll get a real kick out of your silence in Potions. Go shower or something, you smell like Snivellus; meet me in the infirmary when you’re done, okay?” 

Sirius watched James disappear into the distance, just as he watched the water disappear into the drain, and just as he felt any chance of being your friend disappear into thin air. All he ever wanted to do was keep you safe, and make you smile that radiant smile of yours, and if he was lucky, bring out that infectious laugh that turned him stupid every time he heard it. Now, he was lugging equipment up to the infirmary with damp hair and puffy eyes, not ready whatsoever to face you.

“Padfoot, you’re here! She’s still asleep.” James motioned for the sullen boy to join him and Regulus at your bed. Regulus was once again, by your face, threading his fingers through a strand of your windblown hair. There it was, that feeling in his gut. It was probably hunger; he hadn’t eaten a proper breakfast and then he’d played quidditch.

Sirius sat across from Regulus, who looked up from beneath hooded eyes with a silent glare which Sirius read to mean, “don’t you dare come near her. You don’t deserve her. She’s mine.”

“Alright Mr. Potter, you smell awful, and Mr. Black, you’ve been here for too long. The both of you—out!” Pomfrey ushered the two boys out, much to their protests, and turned to Sirius with something that looked like pity in her eyes. “As for you… you get eight minutes.”

Sirius watched as you slept, brows furrowed. He reached to brush away the dirt on your forehead, but his hand froze just as his fingers came close enough to feel the warmth of your skin. He stiffened, wondering if he even had the right to be sitting next to you when he was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Please… please, you have to be okay. You have to. I don’t know what I’d do…” Sirius murmured, finally finding the courage to swipe his fingers across your skin. “You know, James says he doesn’t blame me for this. Is it selfish to wish I wasn’t here right now? You- even when you sleep, you’re so-” he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud; it felt dirty, like a betrayal to his brother. You’re so beautiful. You’re so reassuring. You’re so strong.

“I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell you how I feel. I don’t know how I feel, actually.” Sirius laughed mirthlessly. “But I feel like I should. I should know how I feel, I mean. I should know how I feel about you because you- you’re always so confident and I can’t be that for you; I can’t even get my shit together.” He sighed, pulling his hand away from where he had been rubbing gentle circles against your temple, wondering if you’d hate him. The worst part was, that he knew you wouldn’t.

Sirius sat by your bed for a while, head between his hands as he replayed the fall— the way your eyes closed as if you had resigned yourself to the inevitable impact, the way he foolishly thought he could save you, and the way he didn’t. He jumped at Madame Pomfrey’s chill hand, freshly sanitized. You don’t belong here, all sterile and bland. You’re nothing like that. You’re the light. You’re my brilliant, Gryffindor red and I’m not even brave enough to tell you how I feel. Or to fucking admit how I feel to myself.

Sirius could hear Pomfrey’s foot tapping in concern as he left the infirmary, picking up his quidditch equipment from the floor and wishing he had never stepped foot in the stadium at all.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[elegantsplendour]

Of Blossom and Betrayal

Summary:

AU: Green victory, the realm called for a new queen after Queen Helena's demise

Seraphina Tyrell did not belong to the worldly realm of Westeros; a lone child conceived of loyalty, love and devotion. A beacon like her attracts the darkest of souls, in the darkest of times.

💌 Aegon II Targaryen and Aemond Targaryen

Warnings: manipulation, abuse of power, mentions of rape, slight underage, dub con, violence. Specific warnings will be added at the beginnings of each chapter.

Cast

Chapter 1

Prologue: Highgarden

Tag list: @purple-writer8 @vhagarswar @femmechaotic

Other friends: @boundlessfantasy @arcielee @qyburnsghost

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Lord Lyonel Tyrell was a man of honour, loyalty and vigilance. Succeeding in remaining neutral, assuring his family’s survival and maintaining the influence of his house in one of the bloodiest war since Aegon’s Conquest, if not of all of Westerosi history, was an accomplishment that many of his position had dreamt of.

Loyalty? He laughed bitterly at the memory of the bright and confident smile on his long gone brother Bryan’s departing figure to King’s Landing to serve under Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Be loyal to no one but his family, his loved ones.

It was the code he had lived by since Bryan’s unexpected tragic demise at the hands of Rogue Prince himself, a man his poor brother, the innocent messenger sent by King Viserys, admired and sworn loyalty to, fourteen years ago.

Lyonel remembered the day the news of his demise reached his father, the former lord of Highgarden.

People sing that there were six stages of grief.

Shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

But when it came to a devoted seventy two year old father, the grief ended in the very first.

Two days later, Lyonel, the second son, whose ambitions never surpassed the allure of marrying Lady Jayne Lannister and sampling the finest wines and sugary with his beloved, inherited the legacy he had never been prepared for.

The Targaryens will always do what’s best for the Targaryens.

Those were his late father’s last words.

To survive the Targaryen rule, Lyonel played by their rules. Schemes, betrayals, deceptions and bloodshed? He did not shy away from them. He bore the burden so his family, his people, didn’t have to.

With his hands on the cold balcony, Lord of Highgarden bathed the fresh air of flowers, the peaceful chirping of insects, the giggling of young maids and the distant melodies from the small folks returning to their homes after a long day of labour.

This was his empire he defended.

One of loyalty, honour and love.

His beloved Jayne, her arms wrapped around his waist.

Seraphina, his precious jewel, his sweet little rose, the one and only fruit of his and Jayne's love's many attempts at blooming.

His Lancel, Bryan's illegitimate offspring, whom he had taken under the Tyrell bloodline, a fierce and honorable knight, a fine protector, his heir.

“Lord Ormund has written again,” Jayne rested her head on his shoulder, her golden curls soothing his skin as much as his mind, “The letter touched me, the words he’s chosen, the sincerity of his voice. He truly desires a betrothal between his first born and Seraphina.”

Jayne traced her fingers on her husband’s cheeks, “He wishes to introduce them in King’s Landing.”

“King’s Landing?” Lyonel frowned deeply, “It should be fit for them to present themselves to Highgarden, especially when Phina was the one who treated their wounded bodies in the woods, risking the slaughter of the ruthless Northerners.”

Jayne swallowed hard as she recalled the turbulent times of the war.

Although negotiations, strategies and armies kept the castle away bloodshed and dragon fire, the walls were not impenetrable to whimpers of loss and screams agony from the highborn’s well acquainted soldiers calling the Rose without Thorns to their rescue, even at the interdiction of her parents.

Every time the Rose sneaked away from safety, the Lord and Lady of Highgarden sobbed while the peasants and soldiers rejoiced. Her empathetic smile, attentiveness to their wounds and of course, the herbs and food she had carried with her ignited the flicker of hope in the darkest times.

One fateful day, Seraphina stumbled upon two injured knights bedecked in green armor, hidden in the woods—Ormund and Daryn Hightower, gasping for air, on the brink of death from the Battle of Tumbleton.

As Seraphina returned with the blood stained figures of the castle, Lyonel and Jayne’s anger and fear exacerbated.

Highgarden had remained unharmed because of its neutrality that their naive daughter had just broken.

Yet, the gods seemed to show them mercy, perhaps in honor of the lives House Tyrell defended. The Blacks remained oblivious to this act, which could be seen as a declaration of allegiance. Instead, Seraphina’s uncalculated move of benevolence eaned House Tyrell a favourable position in the new Targaryen court: an intimate alliance with the most influential house beside the new king.

As Lyonel contemplated the offer in silence, Jayne squeezed his hand, “Daryn is a handsome, brave and honourable young man. I recognized the look on his face when Seraphina brought him back from the wild,” she pressed a kiss on cheek, “It’s the same way you looked at me years ago, lord husband.”

Lyonel’s gaze softened as he enveloped his wife into his arms with a light chuckle, “Your jest on formality never cease, my love. If the young Hightower truly feels the same about our daughter as I did to you twenty five years ago,” he cupped her cheeks, “Then, perhaps, that boy deserves her hand.”

Jayne held her husband tightly, relishing his scent and warmth. In a world cruel as this, she thanked to the gods everyday for granting her a man of his devotion, wisdom and strength.

“To King’s Landing then?”

“To King’s Landing,” Lyonel nodded before rolling his eyes, his never dying youthful side emerging, “Where the drunken king will be holding a foolish lavish pageant while his people starve. Seven bless the poor girl he will choose as the new queen.”

Jayne laughed wholeheartedly before tending to his arm, returning to the warmth of the interior, “You know, fate favoured us immensely,” she whispered with a mixture of gratitude and anxiety, “If we had agreed to the Kinslayer’s proposal in marriage-“

Lyonel suddenly gripped the touch of her hand, “Thank the wisdom my father and brother had bestowed me. Never trust a Targaryen. The rumours of…” disturbance and disgust written all over his face, “Lady, now a Princess, Cassandra Baratheon’s screams of pain echoed through the Red Keep on her wedding night. I cannot imagine-“

He buried his face in his hands as he sat down with his wife next to the fireplace.

Jayne brushed his hair with adoration, “Don’t overthink about the past, my love. Phina is about to marry a good man.”

The lord smiled as he lifted his head to face his beloved, “Everything I risked, I fought for, it was worth it. For you, for her, for Lancel, and for our people.”

Jayne kissed him passionately before whispering, “You are too good for this world, Lyonel Tyrell.”

As the stars gracefully pirouetted around the moon in the embrace of the night's darkness, and with the imminent date of embarking on the journey to King's Landing drawing near, the wheel of fate began its inevitable revolution once more.

[tamurilofrivendell]

Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 1

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the 'lost' daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Note: This is x reader but I have given ‘you’ a name. Also I needed Radagast for this story but I think technically she’d have been born before he even arrived but let’s just ignore that. If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters let me know. Translations: lothíriel (flower-garlanded maiden) anarórë (sunrise) vanwa (lost) aranel (princess) melui (lovely)

“Lothíriel!” Radagast cried out the nickname he had called you since you were but a babe in his arms, standing at the door of his little cottage deep in the forest of Mirkwood. His fingers curled around his wooden staff as he looked this way and that, brows furrowed with just the mildest hint of frustration. He was rather used to this song and dance by now. You would seemingly go missing from right under his large nose, sneaking off through the trees to mingle with the wildlife and sing to the flowers. You were a daughter of the forest, sure enough, and there was seemingly nothing that Radagast could do to keep you in check. Not that he would ever wish to dampen your spirit or dim your light, but it was his job to keep you safe and sound, after all. Keep you... hidden.

A great many years had passed since the days when this task had been appointed to him. Since that fateful day of your birth in Lindon when the Enchantress had dared show her face, laying ruin to all that could have been for you. Then the darker days that followed still. The Last Alliance. Your father, High King Gil-Galad, being slain by Sauron himself, alongside King Oropher. Dark days, indeed.

You knew nothing of any of this and that was how Radagast intended to keep it. For now. You were i vanwa aranel, as the tales told, the lost princess... and you needed to remain that way for at least another thousand years or so yet. When the full danger of the Enchantress was no longer a danger to you.

“Anarórë!” Radagast called again, using the name that you had been given just before being smuggled from Lindon under the cover of darkness. Your name was the only thing your father had been able to give you and he had gifted you the name that his beloved Queen had longed to bestow upon you - naming you after her most favourite time of day - before she was killed by the evil Enchantress that was to blame for your being out here and not in the halls of a palace as was your birthright.

“Ooh!” Radagast shook his head, turning to the bird on his shoulder with a worried expression as he heaved a sigh. He was always prone to concern, especially when you were not within his line of eyesight. “Now where has she gotten to!”

You were rather far away from the cottage where you had grown up, and from your uncle Radagast, whom you loved with your entire being but who could at times, to be quite frank, drive you rather mad. He made such a big deal of keeping you safe but some days it could feel like you were suffocating. Like treading water and never being able to move forwards. Some days it seemed that he would have enchanted the cottage to keep you inside at all times if he could. Still, you knew that he simply loved you and wished to keep you from harm.

The Greenwood was beginning to change, even you could feel that. There were pockets of thick, suffocating darkness and you could have sworn that once you saw a spider. Not just any spider but the largest spider you had ever seen in your whole life. It was said that the Elvenking was preparing to lead his people further north across the forest river due to this growing shadow.

Despite being an elf yourself, you had never met any of the wood elves that lived under the Elvenking’s rule. In truth, you did not even know the King’s name. You had watched a few of them in secret but you had never dared approach them. Radagast had always explicitly told you never to speak to strangers and something about the look in his eyes made you realise that he had some genuine reason and you followed that rule rather explicitly.

Still, you did not understand why, for how could you? How could you know that evil could take the fairest of forms to trick you into its clutches? How could you know that such evils were indeed looking for you? Actively seeking you out all over this world and had been since your birth? Radagast kept your history from you to keep you safe. As far as anybody need know, you were naught but a simple elf-maid dwelling beneath the trees of the Greenwood.

Still, it could be lonely, and you often imagined yourself outing your own presence and being welcomed into the fray of others of your kind. You adored your uncle, you truly did, and you loved your life in these woods with the wizard - but some days only conversing and interacting with him and the squirrels could become quite tiresome in a sense.

“Hey!” You laughed, lifting your gaze as a little robin gently tugged on strands of your hair from where it hovered in the air beside your head. Your thoughts melted away as you turned your focus to the little creature, suddenly realising that it was not alone. A group of familiar little animals were lined up on a nearby tree branch, looking down at you rather expectantly.

“There you are!” You chuckled, moving closer and reaching out to run your fingers through some of their fur and feathers. “I was beginning to think that you had all decided to abandon me this day!”

The animals tittered and shifted, little sounds coming from some of them as they shook their heads in dismay, eager to let you know that they would never! This little group of beasts made up some of your closest friends in this wood and a lot of days you would meet them in the clearing and pass your afternoon together.

“Oh, I am only teasing.” You laughed brightly, moving over to sit upon a fallen log, gazing up at the sky.

One of the birds began chirping and you turned to look at them, shaking your head a little as they told you Radagast was looking for you. “Well, I am not ready to go back yet.” You replied. “I have barely been out of the house in the last few days.” Another little chatter from the bird came, telling you he was worried there were strangers in the woods, and you shook your head. “He needn’t bother. Even when there is, I do not approach them. Does he not trust me? Sometimes he treats me as thought I am still a child!”

A soft silence fell upon the clearing, all your little friends looking sad as they contemplated your words, your loneliness. Even they seemed to know that even though you had them, and even though you had Radagast, perhaps it wasn’t always enough.

“Come on now!” You chuckled, brightening a little. “Let us not dwell on all of that. I will go back soon, I promise. He will not start to truly panic for another while yet.” You knew him well enough to know that you had some time to spare before he came charging through the trees with his trusty rabbit sled. “Come, keep me company while I pick some berries. Tonight I am going to make some more cakes!”

A distance away through the trees, a large brown elk was moving at a gentle trot. Astride him sat a lone rider, shoulders straight and guard up just slightly. His long white hair was cascading down his shoulders, free of any elaborate adornments, and as he rode he looked about him, studying the forest.

King Thranduil was travelling alone, something that he did not always do anymore, but his trusty swords were at his side and he knew that, if necessary, his elk could outrun any dangers that they may come upon. If he did not get them first. There was a shadow falling somewhere, he could sense it, but it was still faint and with any luck it would stay that way.

Thranduil turned his attention to the path ahead of him as he moved through the forest, aware that he would have to turn back soon and return to his realm. There was a lot to do, many preparations to make, however he had been rather needing a little bit of peace and quiet. He could defend himself well enough and it had been some time since he had been able to be truly alone. He had a heavy weight on his shoulders and he had since his father, Oropher, had fallen to Sauron, leaving him to rule. Thus the Prince had become the King overnight and, while Thranduil had often had an urge to flee and hide, it was not a whim that he would give into.

As his elk moved through the trees, Thranduil suddenly became aware of a sound filtering through all the other woodland noises. It wasn’t exactly close by and it appeared to be coming from somewhere to his right, which was not the direction he needed to go, but he found himself pulled towards it somehow.

It was somebody singing, he realised, and he normally would have simply smiled and left them to it but it was such a beautfiful melody, a voice the likes of which he was not sure he had ever heard before in all his years - and Thranduil had heard a lot of singing in his lifetime.

“Melui...” He murmured to himself, lost in the beautiful tune for a few moments before he stirred again and urged his elk to the right, struck by the sudden desire to find whoever could produce such a sweet sound.

“Come on, my friend... this way." He directed to his elk as he gently tugged the reins to redirect the beast, heading off in the direction of the singing, not caring if it was perhaps a little out of his way as his curiosity got the better of him.

His elk snorted, disgruntled at going off track, though it reminded the animal a little of the prince of old and it easily gave in, shaking its large head as it trundled off through the trees in the direction its master commanded.