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agoodflyting · 6 months ago

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Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)

A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)

I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.

HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.

The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)

In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.

This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.

If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.

Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:

Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy

Having a noble title

Having expensive things

Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)

helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above

a working-class person saying you were mean to them once

And then there's this bitch...

I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:

How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...

First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.

Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.

First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.

His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.

He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.

We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.

He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.

He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:

A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.

And then there are his shoes.

Oh god his shoes

I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.

Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.

So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.

The Affair of the Brioches

So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...

It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."

While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.

Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.

So let us recap.

Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:

It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.

I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.

I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.

YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.

#good omens #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens costumes #aziraphale's white satin pumps #ineffable husbands

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afanofmanyhats · 6 months ago

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One of my favorite things about Tolkien's writing is that he has a very specific, recurring trope. For lack of a better term, I'm dubbing this the Tolkien Wife-Guy.

This is mainly obvious in the Silmarillion, but Tolkien loves to write couples where the man is a notable individual- nobility, commits a great deed, or both- but the wife is at least equally notable, if not more beloved or powerful. Manwe is the king of the Valar and Eru's main representative in Arda? Everyone loves Varda more, and Melkor fears her more than his own brother. Elu Thingol is the king of the Silvan Elves? His wife is Melian, whose Girdle is the magic that keeps Morgoth's forces at bay. Beren is a chief among the Edain, who befriends animals and survives one of the most nightmarish places in Beleriand? His wife is Luthien.

Even in Lord of the Rings we see this occur, though the couples are on more even footing. Tom Bombadil is... Tom Bombadil, but Goldberry is the River-daughter, and Tom adores her above everything else, and the hobbits are completely taken in with her when she's their host. Similarly, while Celeborn is a mighty lord among Elves, Galadriel is one of the only Noldor in Middle-earth who saw the Two Trees, and her hair inspired Feanor to make the Silmarils, not to mention her own accomplishments in the war against Morgoth. Aragorn is the king of Gondor and Arnor, but Arwen is the Evenstar of the Elves, the descendant of three(?) different royal Elven lines. And Faramir becomes the Steward of Gondor and is one of the noblest men alive, but Eowyn killed the Witch-king, so you know. She got the grander moment for the saga.

But with (most) of these couples, we never get the impression that the man views his wife as Less-Than, or as a junior partner. Thingol is the main exception to this in how he dismisses Melian's counsel, and that's made out to be his foolishness within the text. Otherwise, Manwe treats Varda as his co-ruler, Beren never tries to downplay Luthien's achievements, and I'm pretty sure most of Tom Bombadil's dialogue is about how gorgeous Goldberry is. It's really sweet.

All of these examples really testify to how much Tolkien loved his wife. People rightly point to Beren and Luthien as the prime example of that, but I think you can find it in these other couples too. Even though Edith is mainly known to history as Mrs. Tolkien, it's evident to me that Jirt saw her as a whole person worthy of admiration outside of being his wife.

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prythianpages · 13 days ago

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Hopelessly Devoted | Eris x Reader

Eris x Reader x Azriel | You're hopelessly devoted to Azriel, suspecting he’s your true love. Meanwhile, Eris is hopelessly longing after you. aka Eris being your mate but you're too infatuated with Az to notice.

warnings: slight angst, reader being a bit delulu

*also disclaimer that I am no expert in astrology and my knowledge is usually what I gathered from friends or tiktok so if I'm wrong, please correct me but do it nicely pls bc I am sensitive lol*

a/n: I wasn't sure whether to include Az or not in the pairing but I liked the idea of leaving this fic up to your interpretation. Anyway, happy reading! <3

As you entered the Night Court’s observatory, you traced your fingers along the edge of the great celestial map laid before you. You could feel the soft hum of magic beneath your fingertips, still smell the faintest hint of sage–a remnant of your father’s last ritual here. For centuries, your father has served as the Night Court’s astrologer. He’s guided and advised High Lord Rhysand and on occasion, Keir, the steward of the Court of Nightmares.

Above you, constellations and planets danced across the domed ceiling, the stars gleaming as though they were ready to whisper secrets just for you. You took a deep breath, centering yourself, and placed a palm flat against the massive zodiac wheel etched onto the floor. It began to glow, a warm golden light tracing symbols of the zodiacs and planets.

“Stars above and stars below, reveal the path I seek to know,” you quietly murmured.

The markings on the wheel shifted in response, aligning and realigning with clicking sounds, the warm golden light following. Then, your own chart had appeared, shimmering above you. It was a translucent web of stars and planets connected by silvery lines. You’ve read your birth chart many times, become so familiar with it that you knew it by heart even.

But tonight, you needed the extra reassurance. So you looked up, watching as the planets moved slowly. Your heartbeat a little faster as you spotted Jupiter making transit through your seventh house. The promise of growth, abundance, luck and most important of all, love filled the air.

You slipped a small vial from the hidden pocket of your cobalt blue dress. The words Love Potion No.9 gleamed on the glass, the dark red liquid swirling. It was the enchanted perfume you’d bought from a witch last week—a little love potion designed to make you irresistibly alluring to your soulmate.

You felt a bit foolish, seeking a witch for guidance on love of all matters. Witches were frowned upon in the Court of Nightmares, after all. But impatience had finally nudged you to venture beyond the court’s dark mountain and into the surrounding forests, in search of someone who could help.

“Seek the one who walks between light and shadow with a mask of cool indifference, where fire meets the edge of night. There your heart shall find its match,” she had told you as she handed you the enchanted perfume.

Her words had only confirmed what you had been suspecting for years, centuries even.

Azriel was your soulmate.

Azriel, the very embodiment of cool indifference, wore a mask of stoicism in the Court of Nightmares, just as High Lord Rhysand did. But his hazel eyes always seemed to burn with a hidden fire. And when you were alone with him, away from the cold nobility of the Night Court, Azriel would let that mask slip, revealing a kinder side that laughed and smiled with you. He was your friend and not only did he literally walk among shadows, he wielded them. It had to be him!

And then, there was your birth chart. Your seventh house lay in Taurus—a sign ruled by Venus. With Venus positioned in your twelfth house, everything pointed to the idea that your future soulmate would bring your happiness and pleasure. And since you met Azriel all those years ago during a counseling your father led, happiness had been an emotion you'd grown more familiar with.

The stars couldn’t have given you a clearer message!

There was a flutter in your stomach as you approached Azriel. The two of you had been stealing glances at one another, as you usually did anytime you found yourselves in the same place. He looked as beautiful as ever. As dreamy as ever.

Though your High Lord and High Lady had moved to the center of the ballroom for a dance, he had stayed by the dais. “Hello,” you greeted him with a small smile.

Azriel turned to you, that mask of his slipping for just a brief moment to smile back at you. He took the extra wine glass in your hold, murmuring a small thanks. He turned his head back to the dance floor, attentive to his High Lady’s whereabouts. But he shifted closer to you, the coolness of his shadows caressing your bare arm and you couldn’t help but wonder if the perfume was working.

“You look nice,” he commented.

“Thanks.” A blush rose to your cheeks. You’d taken care to match your dress to the exact shade of his siphons. And he noticed. “So do you.”

“I wear this all the time.” Azriel replied drily, referring to his usual Illyrian leathers.

“Yeah, I know.” You cursed yourself inwardly for the awkward response, then shifted closer, leaning toward him. “Do I smell to you?”

Azriel paused, his shadows brushing close, as if curious themselves. “No,” he said after a moment.

“Oh.” Disappointment seeped into your voice despite your best efforts, and his gaze shifted to you, a hint of a frown in his brows.

“Do you want to smell?”

There’s a teasing edge to his tone, a subtle quirk of his lips. You shook your head, letting out a small, nervous laugh. "No. I just wanted to know if I smelled any…different…,” and then, in a much quieter tone, you murmured, “to you.”

Azriel considered your words. He looked to you in what seemed like permission. You gave a nod of your head and he leaned in, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You smell the same to me.” At the breath you let out, he quickly added: “which is good by the way. You smell nice.”

“Oh, okay,” you smile, albeit a bit awkwardly, the flutter you had felt in your stomach earlier twisting into a knot.

“Y/n, is everything alright?” Azriel asked softly.

“Yeah, I just thought—” You stopped, not sure how to explain without sounding foolish. It wasn’t like you could admit to feeling disappointed over the lack of reaction from an enchanted perfume you’d spent quite a fortune on. Especially when he was the sole purpose for it. Had the witch scammed you?

Azriel waited for you patiently, concern flashing in his eyes. Maybe the perfume hadn’t worked, but the stars and planets had never led you astray. That still had to mean something, right?

“I’m fine.” You finally said.

“Are you sure?”

The way he was looking at you had warmth creeping up your neck and settling deeper in your cheeks. “Yeah.”

A single shadow curled around Azriel’s ear and in the blink of an eye, his head turned. Your gaze followed his, to where Rhysand and Feyre were standing. Rhysand sent him a slight nod and with a sigh, Azriel returned it.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Azriel said, quickly downing the remaining wine from his glass.

You held out your hand, offering to take it for him.

“Thank you. I’ll be back. Don’t have too much fun without me, alright?”

“I’ll try not to,” you replied.

You watched Azriel disappear into his shadows before turning away from the dais and making your way to the refreshments table. You were eager for a refill on your glass. Perhaps a little more wine would help ease the sting of disappointment. But he’d said he’d be back, hadn’t he?

As you scanned the room, you noticed your father in conversation with one of Keir’s sons and your mother eyeing potential suitors for your older brother. As an elite warrior of the Darkbringers, he had no shortage of admirers, and it was only a matter of time before your mother secured him a match—perfect or not.

You suspected you’d be next on her matchmaking list, so you busied yourself with small talk among familiar ladies. Conversations were always a mind-numbing, the ladies your age exchanging beauty tips that centered around the male’s eye or fawning over this season’s most eligible males. Which this season just so happens to be your brother. Gross. If only they knew him the way you did….

Second to him was Bret—or some equally uninspiring name. A Scorpio, of all things, which clashed miserably with your chart. Not that it mattered. You had no interest in any noble of the Court of Nightmares. Or any male here. Most, if not all, were cruel and narcissists, only viewing females as child bearers and nothing more.

There was a reason why this court was burdened with the title “Nightmares.” And to marry someone from here would mean never waking up from this darkness. No stars to light your night skies, only endless shadow and despair.

So, you’d taken fate into your own hands. You’d turned to your birth chart, hoping the stars would lead you somewhere beyond Hewn City, beyond this never-ending nightmare. And they had. They led you to believe it was Azriel. Azriel, who was not only honorable and single but also, technically, part of the Court of Dreams. He’d been your friend for centuries, seeing you for who you are rather than an object or prize like most males here.

As you sneak away from the conversation, you bump into something–someone. Behind you, a deep voice huffed a low, mocking chuckle. “Easy there, librarian.”

You could recognize that voice anywhere, could recognize the heat radiating from him. It pressed down on you, leaving you simmering with irritation.

“I’m a libra, not a librarian.” You bit out. It hasn’t even been a minute and already you were exhausted by the searing presence behind you. “And besides, to you, it’s Lady Y/N.”

When you turned, you found Eris looming over you. His amber eyes gleamed with a familiar, infuriating mischief. He gave you that signature smirk of his, the one that made his sharp features all the more arrogant. “Such a harsh tone. Hardly fitting for a Lady.”

Your gaze hardened into a glare, only to have it stray toward a movement across the ballroom. A flicker of shadow caught your attention, and your heart gave a small, hopeful jump as your gaze softened. There he was—Azriel.

He had returned to the ballroom…but he hadn’t returned to you…

Eris raised a glass to his lips, amber eyes flicking lazily between you and Azriel. “Disappointment doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not disappointed.” You muttered hastily.

He gave a scoff, his smirk widening with dark amusement. “Please. I can practically feel it.”

“Liar,” you shot back.

“Azriel said he’d find me again and unlike you, he’s a male of his word,” you continued, not sure why you were telling Eris this. “He’s…”

Your words trailed off as you watched Azriel, who stood next to Nesta and Elain. He laughed–actually laughed!-- at something Elain had said, shadows absent from his frame as his focus remained solely on her. You couldn’t miss the soft smile playing on his lips, nor the warmth in his gaze. Did he do that with every female he knew? You thought he reserved that just for you…

The bubble in your chest slowly deflated.

“Keep dreaming,” Eris huffed out. He seemed to take special pleasure in your reaction. It prompted your cheeks to flush but this time, with irritation.

“Oh, go away, you prick,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?" he replied, leaning closer, his sharp gaze burning into you. You missed the flash of longing in his amber eyes, too focused on Azriel. Or the way the words that had been on the tip of his tongue faltered as your scent suddenly overwhelmed him, his breath hitching slightly.

"You smell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled absently.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice gruff and pupils flaring. “You smell different tonight…good...”

You blinked, barely processing his words. Was he actually being nice to you? In all the years you’ve known him, he’s always had snark remark after snark remark for you. The way it would roll smoothly off his tongue always left you wondering if he’d rehearse them for his visits to the Court of Nightmares.

You fidgeted, fingers grazing your wine glass as you cast a hesitant glance back at Azriel. Your chest tightened as he remained engrossed in conversation with Elain. Turn around, please. But he hadn’t even looked your way once.

Eris stepped in front of you, drawing your attention back to him. His gaze roamed over you, your dress. He took in the shade and he knew why you had chosen it–and for whom. "You know," he said, his gaze lingering on your face. "Red suits you far better.”

“And there he is, you’re back…”

"I’m serious. This—" He gestured to your gown with a slight grimace, his fingers brushing the silk fabric in disappointment. "This color washes you out. Red would bring out the color of your eyes…”

Your jaw clenched but you remained silent, refusing to admit that his words stirred something within you. Eris was insufferable, arrogant, and yet you couldn't deny his eye for detail. He, after all, was always dressed impeccably in the finest Autumn attire. But you would never give him the satisfaction of admitting he might be right.

His smirk widened, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. “Do you want to know another thing?”

“No,” you said immediately.

But he leaned in anyway, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re hopelessly devoted to a male who doesn’t even look your way.”

Your mouth opened, brows furrowing in protest, but he went on. His smirk softened, fading into a half-smile. One that didn’t reach his eyes, dimming the fire that usually burned so brightly there. And then, in a much quieter, reluctant tone, he murmured, “And I am no different, it seems.”

"But…" You stammered, resisting the urge to steal another glance at Azriel. "He does look my way…sometimes.”

Eris’s smile faded, his expression tightening. A flicker of pain crossed his face. So brief, you almost thought you imagined it. "You’re delusional.”

“And you’re insufferable.” You scoffed, heart pounding.

“Better than being a fool.”

The mocking tone was there but the usual sharpness had been softened by a strange, subtle sadness. Was this… pity?

You swallowed, lifting your chin defiantly. “The stars wouldn’t lie to me,” you said, though the conviction in your voice wavered. “He’s the one for me.”`

You met his eyes then and Eris held your gaze. His amber eyes warm and molten, the intensity of his stare prickling at your skin. An unsettling flutter erupted in your stomach, rising to your chest. A feeling you quickly dismissed when you felt something cool brush against your arm.

“Is he bothering you, y/n?”

Eris scoffed at the sudden presence beside you. It sickened him to see that sweet, adoring look on your face, the triumphant gleam in your eyes as you looked up at Azriel. The sight made Eris grit his teeth. His instincts roared at him, the fire in his veins was scorching.

You blinked, snapping out of your daze, realizing both males were waiting for your answer. “No,” you said but the way you shifted to stand behind Azriel said otherwise.

Azriel’s gaze hardened as he looked toward Eris. “Stay away from her,” he seethed.

A low growl rumbled from Eris’s chest as he took a step forward, his amber eyes flaring with rage. Though not as tall as Azriel, he seemed to tower over him at this moment. His teeth flashed as his lips curled into a snarl. “I do not take orders from bastards like you.”

Azriel’s wings tensed, threatening to unfurl and the movement of his shadows quickened. Like a storm ready to unfold. But before it could, you placed a hand on his arm. Right over one of his glowing siphons that seemed to be growing hotter and hotter, daring to match the fire coursing through Eris’s veins.

“Az, don’t,” you told him gently, not wanting to draw any attention to the three of you. You felt his muscles ease under your touch, his shadows brushing over your hand in agreement.

Eris’s gaze dropped to your hand on Azriel’s arm, his expression darkening into something unreadable. He exhaled sharply, turning his head as though trying to shake off whatever thought had crossed his mind.

When he looked back, his features had shifted into his usual cool mask, that infuriating smirk sliding back into place. He looked right at you.

“When you wake up from this deranged dream of yours, come find me.”

You watched him, feeling a strange, unwelcome tug in your chest as he turned to leave. Perhaps, one day you’d realize that the enchanted perfume you had bought was not a scam.

And that the male you searched through the stars and planets for was not the one standing beside you, but the one who’d just walked away.

a/n: sorry if you're not a libra, I just thought it'd be funny for Eris to purposely say reader's sign wrong as he knows astrology is a huge influence on her.

[series masterlist]

[Eris masterlist]

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits15, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction

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seresinhangmanjake · 3 months ago

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Becoming His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x concubine!reader

Summary: Feyd chooses you as his concubine

Notes/Warnings: Smut (but not an overwhelming amount), so 18+. Possessiveness (ownership of other human beings and whatnot). It changes from third person perspective to second person, so i’m sorry if that irritates some people, but I just thought that it expressed the feelings of the story better, considering the tonal switch. This is based on a request. Sorry if there are typos.

It can be read as stand-alone, but it goes along with the following fics: His, Don't Touch What's His, and Only His. This fic takes place before any of those.

Words: 2400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Feyd was sent for peace. The Baron sees use in House Wallach and very specifically instructed his favorite nephew to arrange a deal. With House Wallach’s planet producing items of value, the Baron would not attempt domination over their world in exchange for those items. That seemed fair—as fair as the Harkonnens get—but if one party fails to deliver, consequences follow. Sometimes, that means the taking of other items of value.

They aren’t prisoners of war—they can’t be considered such when war did not actually occur—but they’re close enough: women taken from their home planet after their leaders failed to protect them, leaving them weak and vulnerable and unprepared for what their new lives will thrust upon them. For the first time in their blip of existence, they are a foreigner's property; the most humiliating of circumstances for women of their status: three high-ranking handmaids, the live-in bene gesserit, and the daughter of their Lord and Lady. And Feyd has to choose one.

“It’s within your right,” the Baron tells him. “And expected. To turn them away without taking one for yourself would be a showing of weakness.”

Feyd scans each one. He supposes they’re all appealing in their own ways. The handmaids were raised to obey, an ability Feyd would have them exercise often. The bene gesserit has knowledge beyond her years. And the benefits of owning an heir of a Great House can be summed up by title alone.

However, they have their faults as well. The handmaids aren’t particularly beautiful, and as they stand there, shaking, huddled together, with their eyes down and chins tucked into their chests, Feyd finds them grossly undesirable. If he wanted a mouse, he would take one of his own servants.

The bene gesserit, regardless of appearance, is a witch whose most vital loyalty will belong to the Reverend Mother and her followers before House Harkonnen—a traitorous snake in the making. He cannot have a woman in his bed that he will be unable to trust.

The one remaining, the Lady, she’s fearless. He can see it already in the set pout of her pretty lips. He doesn’t like fearlessness; it’s disrespectful, potentially disobedient, but at the same time, she encapsulates everything else he could want: a face he doesn’t hate to look upon, to say the very least; nobility, a reminder that he claimed something invaluable to an entire planet; and perhaps most intriguing: she’ll be a challenge—not easily torn down—and the more he looks at her, the more the others fade into nonexistence.

Feyd steps closer to her, drawn in by delicate features, and waves of hair, and luscious curves.

“This one,” he says.

With those two words, a spark shoots across her irises. Her knitted brow soothes. Her mouth, now unburdened by the weight of the pout, twitches up in the corners. There’s a hint of a dimple in her right cheek that is there and then gone, taken from him before he can fully understand why his heart thumped at the sight of it.

“Fine,” the Baron replies.

Commanding his guards, he says, “Rid of the others,” prompting gasps and tears of fear, and even Feyd is unsure what will become of them. Slaves? Entertainment in the arena? Perhaps his uncle will let him feed them to his pets.

To his servants, the Baron says, “Clean her up.”

And to his nephew, he says, “She’ll be brought to you later,” just before two small Harkonnen women take her by the arms and lead her away.

—

He thought all afternoon of the noises he would soon be forcing from you. The yelps, the squeals, the cracking from your grinding teeth. Everyone’s flesh makes a unique sound when sliced open, and he imagined what sound your flesh would make. The masterpiece your face would be after your tears melt your makeup he’d be proud to claim as his work.

But then his servants bring you to him. They push you through the door and position you in front of him before skittering away, and in the silence they leave behind, Feyd can only detect his own heartbeat.

He liked you in the pinkish-toned clothing traditional of your house—it made you stick out amongst the darkness surrounding you, like uncorrupted sweetness in its last moments—but in Harkonnen black, you’re something else entirely.

He’s read of goddesses and angels, deities and divine spirits lost with those who once worshipped them, and he always wondered how such beings cultivated mass devotion without the consistent doling out of immense pain. But he gets it now. He understands the draw of the ethereal.

After minutes of staring, his eyes feel dry, scratchy; he needs to blink, he needs to close his parted mouth, but he can’t, nor can he form a coherent thought separated from the way your hair frames your face and how the silk cascading down your body doesn’t do a perfect job of hiding everything underneath. Touch. He wants to touch. Run hands over soft skin. Press his lips to–

He stops himself. That’s wrong. He is meant to sink his teeth into you. He should be digging his nails into flesh, draining blood, staining sheets, licking tears from cheeks like the men before him have done to their concubines.

She’s yours, so train her well—that’s what his uncle said, and Feyd knows for a fact that the Harkonnen method of training a woman is devoid of anything but pure torture. Harkonnen training is rough, crude, brutal on the body and mind to break someone down. Only the strong build themselves back up into warriors—like he did—and concubines are not meant to attempt that feat.

“Am I going to stand here all night?”

Your voice sends a chill down his spine, yanking him out of his head. He finally blinks. As his eyes meet yours, he swallows and says, “Do you want to stand there all night?”

“Not particularly,” you tell him. “And I don’t think your servants spent hours fixing me up just so I can take post like a statue at the foot of your bed.”

He wouldn’t mind a statue in your likeness, actually. He’d feel a lot less conflicted if he had two of you at his disposal; one for what a concubine is meant for, and one unaltered from the way you are right now—no pain in your eyes, no quiver to your lip, no marks marring your skin.

“They did not,” he confirms.

He pushes off the desk he had been leaning against and uncrosses his arms as he steps toward you, stopping just before colliding with your body. Your head tilts back, and he knows he is supposed to smirk at your powerlessness; his eyes should be pouring with the promises of a painful future, but he can’t access that otherwise always-accessible emotion. The hatred is not quite there. The vile pool of black sludge that has resided within him from the moment he pierced his mother’s throat with a blade has started to drain because of the doe eyes that stare up at him.

“I’m not scared of you,” he hears, and for a second, he cannot tell if the words came from your mouth or from his. But you don’t reply, so that must be his role.

“It's stupid not to be scared of me.”

“Maybe,” you say, your head cocking, “but you don't look at me like you want me to be scared of you.”

That right there—he should kill you for that. You see too much. He wonders if you see his thoughts as well. He doesn’t need a woman with eyes that see more than what is tangibly in front of her.

Instead of his body operating on its own, he has to force his hand to wrap around the neck of the threat before him. But five seconds of the delicate column in his grasp goes by, and then ten, and then fifteen, and his fingers have yet to squeeze any tighter. Surprise is etched onto your face, but it’s different. It’s not the look of a woman suddenly in a vulnerable position. By the way your eyes trail from his face to bicep to forearm, it’s more like you’re shocked that his touch is as warm as it is, as if you expected the paleness of his skin to mean hot blood does not course through his veins.

Tentatively, your hands reach up until your palms are cupping his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to jerk away as your tongue slides out to wet your lips and you rise on your toes. You gently tilt his head down to yours, and then you brush your mouth over his.

Feyd’s lungs tighten in his chest as you do it again. The hand around your neck slides into your hair, holding your head in place so he can take more, kiss harder. But it’s not long that he’s devouring your taste before he comes to his senses and shoves you away.

“Stop that,” he spits, his brow drawn. “I did not tell you to do that.”

Your teeth trap your bottom lip. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“Lay on the bed,” he says, then quickly adds, “On your stomach.” It’s better that way. If he isn’t focusing on you, your eyes, your lips, then he won’t be distracted from his own pleasure.

You don’t hesitate to do as he says, and you walk past him to the mattress. He doesn’t turn to watch you shed your thin gown, fearing what the combined vision of face and bare body will do to him, so he works on removing his own clothes, facing you only once he hears the shifting of the coverings on his bed.

Your arms are bent, hands overlapped under your head as you wait for him to join, and after taking in the curvature of spine and the dip in lower back before the swell of bottom, he does, settling behind you.

He doesn’t know where to start. There’s so much to take in and he does his best to memorize it all until, eventually, he lets his palm slide up the center of your back. When it causes you to shiver, he rips his hand away.

“It wasn’t bad,” you tell him. “I’m fine.”

Feyd hums in a manner intended to come off much more displeased than it does. He didn’t ask if you were fine, and a scolding is on the tip of his tongue for even suggesting the idea, but the piece of him that knows he would’ve stopped if you had said the opposite keeps the words from reaching past his throat.

Feyd tries once more, this time placing his hand at your hip for purchase as he guides himself inside of you with the other. With great effort, he swallows his gasp before he falls forward on clenched fists that press into the mattress on either side of your breasts.

You’re warmer than he expected. Tight and slick and warm, and amidst the sensations that take over his entire being, he somehow manages to find enough clarity to question the normalcy of your body.

Harkonnen women aren’t warm like this. Warm, yes, but your warmth is more comforting, more engulfing. He’ll feel an unpleasant chill when he removes himself from you and so decides it might be best to stay right there inside of you for as long as he can. But after he hears the little sound you make through the ringing in his ears, he doesn’t know how much longer that will be.

He pulls out slightly and then pushes in, and he receives another of your sounds, louder this time. Your hips lift an inch off the mattress, pushing back into his. He thrusts again and his brain fuzzes. When he shoves in deeper, you yelp at the spot he hits and he loses his mind entirely, left with the sole desire to see how many notes he can get you to sing for him. He finds there are many more, and as you continue to belt out a chorus along with each of his movements, he suddenly thinks: fuck everything else. Fuck the things he is supposed to be doing to you. Fuck the lessons he is supposed to be teaching you. Fuck the training that is supposed to be putting you in your place. He needs to see you.

Your head lifts and you look back at him as best you can when he leaves your body. “Why did you st–”

“Turn over,” he demands with heavy breaths.

“What?”

You’re not fast enough. His hands firmly grip your hips and he flips you onto your back, spreading your legs and stuffing himself back inside of you. You moan. Your eyelashes flutter. Your mouth stays perfectly parted as you reach over your head to tighten your fingers into the pillow.

That’s exactly what he wanted, and that’s all it takes to shun his cares for anything other than the way you look beneath him. His chest meets yours and he darts his tongue out to lick the bottom of your upper lip before capturing your mouth with his. You kiss him just as much as he is kissing you. You touch him as much as he is touching you. Your legs wrap around him, taking everything he has until his hips stutter and he’s coating the walls that are milking him with each pulsating squeeze.

He pulls out with ragged breaths, body falling beside yours, and as you both stare at the ceiling, his mind finally clears with the sudden realization that what he just did might’ve stolen some of his power and handed it to you. You know of the Harkonnens’ cruelty—everyone does—but what he gave you was not that, and he cannot allow you to get the wrong impression.

“You're mine,” he reminds you. “I own you. You follow my orders. Don’t irritate me. Don’t speak unless I am the one speaking to you. You go where I tell you to go. You do what I want you to do. And don’t get any ideas that you’re not disposable to me.”

Minutes pass in silence, but then you say, “What happens if you end up liking me?”

That question hits him right in the gut. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what the fuck happens if he likes you more than he already does. It won’t do him any good; he knows that.

His back teeth clench. “I won't,” he says. “So don’t ever ask me that again.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #dune 2 #feyd rautha fic

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lilithblackwood · 2 months ago

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I wonder how belos feels if one of the boys is trying to date his daughter ?

Knowing Belos, it can honestly go either way🥲 And also, Danica’s a bisexual queen, but even that will get the same result from her dad💅

#witches and nobility #the owl house fanfiction #the owl house #toh oc fanfiction #toh oc

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star--nymph · 5 months ago

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Vivienne's fear being 'becoming irrelevant' isn't something that's linked explicitly to her pride, no matter what Solas says about her (and the irony of Mr.Pride himself saying that should not be lost on you), it reveals what and who Vivienne truly is.

She's a survivalist.

Because we don't spend as much time in the Free Marches or Orlesian circles, we don't get to experience what being a mage is in these cultures. In Ferelden and Kirkwall, a mage is a lesser being without freedom no matter what they do--but in the Free Marches and Orlais specifically, mages are commodities that are given freedom so long as they play an entertaining enough role. They can explore the world if they have a noble patron, if they catch the right person's eye. They are, in a way, two sides of the same coin--refusing mages agency and forcing them to relay on higher powers. Vivienne lucked out, as sad as it is, when Bastion fell in love with her; she found someone who was contrarian enough to recognize her as a full person and also someone with power that could help her rise through the ranks. This is not to say that Vivienne on her own wasn't an exceedingly talented and intelligent individual--by nineteen she was already the youngest full fledged mage in Circle history and she was skilled enough to make herself an enchanter. But, I can not emphasize this enough, none of that matters if she didn't also play the Game and impress enough people.

Vivienne could have been the most brilliant mage in the history of Thedas and it means nothing if she was overlooked by nobility.

So when Bastion made her his mistress, she gained not just a lover but also a means to an end. Now she can use her magic to protect herself. Now she can roam where she wants and not be question for it because she's Madame Vivienne. Now, she can walk into the Orlasian court and belong there.

And what happens? Celene notices her and makes her the Court Enchanter, a position that has always been the equivalent of a jester. Vivienne took that title, ignored that it was essentially a glorified insult to who she is, and made it a position of power. She made the Court Enchanter into an advisor, a political rank. She had done the impossible and made mages an actual political entity in the Orlasian Court, something that wasn't seen outside of Tervinter (not counting what players can do under very specific conditions if they made mages in DAO and DA2).

All that, however, only continues as long as the court recognizes her as something worth their attention. Vivienne needs to maintain her act as Madame De Fer, The Lady of Iron, the Court Enchanter, The Jewel of the High Court, because the second she just becomes Vivienne, it's over for her. The assassins coming raining in, her name gets devoured by rumors and gossip, and she'll be found dead at bottom of the stair case with a dagger in her back if she's lucky.

So of course when the Circles fall apart during the Rebellion, she clings to that Loyalist Mages to maintain that structure--of course she moves her pieces to the Inquisition, knowing that if the Circle DOES fall, she at least as another place for herself and mages latch onto--of course when she hears that Celene replaced her with a new Court Enchanter that appeared out of no where, she grows to resent Morrigan.

Like, Morrigan literally pops up out of thin air, makes herself invaluable to Celene, and then plants herself in the place Vivienne had to claw her way up to and create so she could survive. Would you not be resentful when your life's work is usurped by some random witch of the wilds because she happened to charm the Empress? Everything Vivienne strived for all whisked away because the court find a gem who glimmers ever so slightly more than Vivienne.

So yes, Vivienne fears becoming irrelevant because the world has made it so that irrelevance for an Orlesian mage means death.

#vivienne making herself into the most beautiful shining gem of the court #making herself razor sharp and blindingly glittering and audacious so everyone HAS to look at her whether she likes it or not #and then when she thinks she can step away and focus on the Inquisition to help her fellow mages here comes Morrigan #who may be just as glittering just as sharp just as beautiful but she does it in a more wild way that the court snaps its head to look at h #and Vivienne fears that she's about to lost everything #and she white knuckles her alliance to the Inquisition like a life line and hope this gamble sees her through #because the alternative is far too horrifying for her to entertain #and do not confuse all of that with Vivienne being selfish because she's NOT Vivienne is not pulling the ladder from other mages #she wants them to have her power but she's aware that if Morrigan pulls HER ladder than it's all over #and really why the fuck are we holding all that against Vivienne when this is how the world made her (a world that is canonically colorist)#so she could live and breath and be seen as equal in some measurement?#I mean if you can sympathize with SOME OTHER MAGES for how they navigate an hostile world I wonder why you can't do the same for Vivienne #unless there's a glaring reason why you wouldn't dare get to know her #writing #vivienne de fer #dragon age #vivienne #dragon age inquisition

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calamari-inari · 2 months ago

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"... you become what you believe."

Dimitri and AM!Ferdinand mini doujin, 7 pages. Read right to left!

Transcript and personal captions under the cut

CW: blood

Comic transcript. Thoughts/monologues are in parentheses. Background dialogue is in brackets.

PAGE 1

D: Ferdinand.

D: I've been wanting to ask you a question...

F: (He looks like a demon..!)

F: Yes? What is it? Please speak properly...

PAGE 2

D: Why did you leave the Empire?

D: I remember how you were during our time at the Officers Academy.

D: You placed so much pride in your heritage.

F: What is the use of pride if I have nothing left?

F: The former Duke Aegir was dismissed. My title, my land... They are all gone now.

D: ...It's because of that woman.

D: Tell me, what do you seek?

PAGE 3

F: I am not sure I understand.

D: Last night, I entrusted one task to you.

[P-please! I'll tell you what I know!]

F: Yes. I killed the Imperial soldier as you had instructed me.

D: That is what I mean.

D: You are simply following my orders.

D: You did not want to kill him, correct?

F: Dimitri, he had vital information for us and you did not let him finish!

PAGE 4

D: Anyway, similarly, I also lost the throne. I have little care for that, however.

D: Now, I'm fighting with a single mission: avenging the dead. They will not be satisfied until I have her head.

F: *sigh* You had said that, but you should not accept that as true.

D: What rubbish. Anyone that deserves to die will die.

F: Dimitri! That is-

PAGE 5

D: Silence, Ferdinand!

D: This hatred and regret I feel... Nothing I do will ever be enough until that witch is gone.

D: What are you-

PAGE 6

D: ... Hmph. What a pest you are.

D: Why do you insist on staying by my side? As you used to closely affiliate with that woman, I could easily kill you here and now.

F: You do not wish to, do you? Because your heart says otherwise. Learn to forgive yourself.

D: But do I deserve forgiveness? The guilt that weighs down on me is...

PAGE 7

F: Dimitri, while I may have left the Empire behind, my nobility has not dulled.

F: Create the grandest vision for yourself because you become what you believe. Do you understand? It is a noble's duty to support you until the end, no matter how far you may stray.

F: That is why I am here for you.

💙🧡💙🧡💙🧡

I don't really draw comics often, but this was certainly worth the effort!! I've always thought Ferdinand is the greatest support character ever, and with him joining the Blue Lions, his role won't change. Just like in the stories of Pan and Loog, Ferdinand would choose to help Dimitri on his path to become the restoration king of Faerghus without ever taking any credit. It's quite evident in his character based on some of his paired endings. I just think that's one of the things that makes them so great and sweet 🥺 I imagine Ferdinand wouldn't hate Edelgard in AM, but rather, he wants to show her that he's able to support his lord (Dimitri) in a way that she never would have thought of. After all in AM, Edelgard only ever knew his snobby academy version who would always childishly rival her.

Please let me know if you liked it!! I'm definitely creating more fanart of these two (maybe a little more intimate next time because I want to lol 🫶)

#my art #calamari inari #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #ferdinand von aegir #diminand #comic art #doujinshi #fire emblem fanart #blue lions #azure moon

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within-your-eyes-if · 1 year ago

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Within Your Eyes Intro Post

DEMO [Last Updated June 22nd, 2024]

You are a Warden, a monster hunter who has come to the Kingdom of Auris which has become the forefront runner in it’s acceptance of magic and supernatural alike within the West Highlands. But when strange happenstances occur, you are called upon not just because of skill, but also because of your condition. A condition you’ve lied about for last 12 years.

Unearth the secrets that magic holds as a new form is discovered.

Befriend or romance those who attempt to worm through the cracks of the mask you wear. Or will you fight to keep them at arms length?

Regardless of where your journey takes you, your feathered friend will be at your side. As he always has been.

This story will be 18+ for the following reasons:

Explicit and erotic intimate scenes

Death, including of a child

Violence, blood and gore

Thoughts of suicide

Mentions of suicide

Self harm

Explicit language

Mental trauma

Horror elements

Feelings of being watched

NOTE: Your character will be pretending to have a disability (blindness), not because of a disorder but out of self preservation.

This list may be updated.

You are running away from your past. As you take a this new job, you're forced to confront it. What vices do you use to cope? Will you learn to rely on others or will your raven be your only source of comfort? Will you feel guilty for your lies? Yours will be a journey of self-forgiveness, or maybe you'll only fall deeper into despair.

Play as a man, woman, or non-binary. Gay, straight, or bi.

Plenty of customization options from physical appearance to clothes.

Φ Admos de Le Wren ─ Male | Draconian | Second-Born

Admos, the Dragon Lord of Auris, ascended to the throne following a devastating conflict with his father, bypassing his older brother's claim. This decision deepened the rift among his siblings. As he enters his fifth year as sovereign, Admos grapples with guilt and uncertainty about his role in the family's discord. Will you help him find clarity or fuel his doubts?

Φ Lyth/Lyari de Le Wren ─ Gender Selectable | Draconian | Tenth-Born

Ly took on the role of Viceroy/Vicereine in Auris and became their brother Admos's Right Hand, playing a vital part in the kingdom's recovery after a conflict with their father. However, an incident they triggered over a year and a half ago almost led to another war, casting doubt on their suitability for their position and their aid to their brother. Will you help Ly grapple with their past actions and uncertainties about their role as Viceroy/Vicereine, or will their internal conflicts remain unresolved?

Φ Leese/Lea van Laere ─ Gender Selectable | Human | Vampire

Born into nobility, Lee's life as the child of prominent figures in Lenia took an unexpected turn when they were turned into a vampire. Forced to leave their home, Lee now wrestles with their new identity, desperately seeking meaning in their existence and if it's worth maintaining.

Is Lee a monster consumed by instinct, or can you help them reclaim their humanity?

Φ Xiang Xiaowen/Xiaodan ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Xiao, an ambassador dispatched to Auris to aid the Dragon Lord in Council matters, fought hard to secure their role. Serving as an unofficial advisor, they frequently share insights to assist Admos. Yet their unwavering dedication to obtaining this position hints at a deeper motivation. Perhaps they will reveal it to you.

Φ Gabriel Duarte ─ Gender Selectable | Human

Assigned to you as an assistant of sorts, the recently knighted guard is searching for their place within the Order. Perhaps their new mission will set them on a path for glory, or sink them beneath the turmoils it takes to obtain.

Φ Hestia ─ She/They | Elf? | Witch

Even the most kind have their secrets.

Φ ???

Poly Routes: Lyth/Lyari and Gabriel | Leese/Lea and Gabriel | Xiaowen/Xiaodan and Hestia

Love Triangle: Admos and ???

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

FAQ

Romance Information Post

Ko-Fi

Tumblr Asks are disabled for the time being.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

WYE will always be free with chapters released once they are finished.

This is a planned trilogy.

Thank you for reading and for your support! ♥

#interactive fiction #within your eyes if #text based game #text based adventure #twine game #twine wip #twine interactive fiction #twine if #twine story #cyoa #interactive game #interactive novel #twine games

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occudo · 10 months ago

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wait, yo there’s an entire mage magic system in this au? Might I ask for more details?

Sooo...

The short answer is that is a soft magic system, with no hard rules, it's just fun with the characters.

The long answer on the other hand...

I had a similar ask before, but since then some things changed, so I guess I try to explain it as best as I can.

So! This is a magical-fantasy-medieval AU, I was loosely inspired by arthurameslove 's fic This Lonely Knight, but since then I made my own version of a similar premise. The magic system is based on the original fears, the avatars are people who are affected by their magic, in one way or another. The more close to the fear the person is, the more magical effect it has.

The most known magic users are witches. They go to school to study, and from there, they can go and become advisors in small kingdoms where they can get gifted titles like Lady and Lord, but they don't get actual lands or servants.

Jon is not an advisor, but Elias' protégé and he can afford to employ Martin, who is a Knight, and previously worked for Lord Lucas. Elias is the advisor of King Magnus.

The kingdoms are based around the Fears, with most avatars being nobility or witches. (I wasn't sure if I wanted to make Simon a noble or a mage, maybe he is not so open about his skills) The witches are glass cannons- they can be really powerful in some situations but otherwise, kinda weak so is a common thing to have a designated knight bodyguarding them if they leave their palaces.

Martin is 'touched' but can't do magic the way Jon, or other witches.

If a witch finishes school, they are respected and believed that they can control powerful magic (with circles and runes) without it affecting their bodies and minds negatively - not like Jane Prentiss, for example. She was a noblewoman who got- corrupted.

Not every witch goes to serve nobility, there are plenty of small village witches, and Gertrude also tried to leave the palace and become a bog witch kinda deal.

Innisially for this au, I made the 'witch factor' the characters' connection to the eye in canon. I didn't see either Tim or Martin really eye-aligned, so I made them knights instead.

Since then I added Sky Mages for the Vast avatars- I just tought flying and stars and sky really deserve their own coven.

I'm not sure about the other fears names and schools jet. The phrase Seer Mage came from @skell3 's fanfic inspired by my comic, and I loved it so much that I baked it in my au. Also, the thought that eye-aligned mages are all about seeking truth and other's secrets, while can't really fly or fight mutch was funny to me.

So this is a loosy-goosy system that I'm still working on. I'm also open to suggestions- like with Basira and Daisy- they ended up being witch hunters.

or Georgie and Melanie

And I changed Michael from a jester to an actual noble/prince

So yeah, I hope this answers your question. Mostly a character-based, case-by-case thingy.

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flowerofbenevolence · 1 month ago

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Queen Maleficia Draconia Headcanons

TW: I have not read CH 7 yet, so this may be inaccurate and will be edited in the future!

"So you are the human that my grandson keeps telling me about."

Appearance:

She is envisioned to be extremely and timelessly beautiful, but also old-looking, like an older version of Maleanor. Like her daughter and grandson, she has dark midnight bluish-black hair, except it is slightly greying, or having grey streaks and is usually tied up into a bun. She also has yellowish-green eyes comparable to that of peridots, with long eyelashes and a few wrinkles beneath her eyes. she also has alabaster moonlight white skin, and of course, the famous, elegant, S-shaped horns that dragons and dragon-fairies are known for. Her attire would typically consist of the silver crown of the reigning monarch of Briar Valley, and long, black robes with green and silver accents as well as jewel and feather details.

Personality:

At first glance, Queen Maleficia seems to be cold-hearted, stern, and regal to the point of approachableness. But underneath that is actually a strong-hearted and passionate queen who loves her kingdom and people dearly, loved her daughter greatly, and is affectionate yet protective and strict towards her grandson. For that reason, many of her subjects praise her for her vast wisdom, knowledge, nobility, and being an amazing ruler. Humans, however, both fear and loathe her for her dark, cold aura and tend to take her inspiration for the villains of fairytales.

Background:

Long before the Human-Fae War started, Queen Maleficia actually had a human lover whom she loved very deeply, and promised to make him her king consort, regardless of how weak he was as a human and how short his lifespan was. However, much to her heartbreak, her human lover left her for a human princess, believing her to be much more beautiful, according to human beauty standards, and being much more "kind, graceful, and benevolent", which really meant her preferred softer, timider, and more insecure girls who suited his ego. Maleficia, following her draconic instincts (which many of us had assumed meant being jealous, possessive, and "hoarding their treasure"), was enraged, but kept her composure, knowing she had an image to maintain, being royalty and all, and tried to reason with him instead. She tried to tell him that beauty, especially human beauty doesn't last forever, and that she was the only one who would love him despite that and how his new human girlfriend's beauty would eventually fade. She also tried to tell him about how he would need someone wise like her to point out his flaws and faults and advise him so that he would be able to learn and grow as a person. When he got angry and continued to insist on leaving her, Maleficia finally snapped and decided her little human boyfriend needed a "punishment". She kidnapped his royal human bride and demanded ransom while torturing her. In the eyes of the fae, this was seen as acceptable, since fairies seek long-term relationships, strongly value loyalty, and believe that it is right to seek revenge when cheated on. Humans, on the other hand, were outraged, since they are more easily prone to cheating, being unfaithful to their spouses, but also moving on, and believed that Maleficia should be doing exactly just that instead of being a "jealous monster". As a result, Maleficia became the inspiration for numerous villainesses and witches in fairytales about "a princess who falls in love with a prince, but is hunted by a witch who is jealous of her relationship with the prince". Green also became a color associated with jealousy and envy since she often wore it, and sayings like "green-eyed monster" became invented. In the end, her human ex-boyfriend managed to rescue his human bride as well as severely injure her and return home where he was glorified as a hero. Centuries passed, and even when her human boyfriend died of old age and Maleficia found herself Malleus' grandfather, she still continues to resent her human ex-lover and the woman he left her for.

Ah, and of course, when the Human-Fae Wars started, Maleficia's hatred of humans increased tenfold, and when they killed her daughter, Maleanor Draconia, it was the final nail in the coffin.

Relationships:

Her daughter, Maleanor Draconia - Queen Maleficia loved her daughter very much and was very doting and protective. Afterall, she was basically a carbon copy of her and she would loathe herself forever if the same heartbreaking fate that happened to her happened to her daughter. That's why she was very wary of her son-in-law but eventually accepted him when he proved himself to her. She was beyond devastated when her daughter died and vowed vengeance against all the humans that caused her demise.

Her grandson, Malleus Draconia - Though she loves her grandson very dearly, she is very strict and protective of him. She acknowledges that he is the only heir left of Briar Valley, and how hard it was to hatch him. For that reason, she takes being his only living relative very seriously and disciplines him to become the perfect ruler that not only she, but the entire kingdom needs him to be. She also strives for his safety above all else and only hires the best guards and retainers to keep him safe. Lastly, she would also be very picky and judgmental if her grandson were to fall in love - not only would she hate to see her grandson get his heart broken, but it would be terrible news if the Crown Prince of Briar Valley was distracted from his royal duties.

Y/N - If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and she and Malleus were NOT dating and just friends, Queen Maleficia would be very cold and wary of her at best, harsh and hostile at worst. She wouldn't like how casual, informal, and intimate she would be with the Crown Prince. However, if Y/N was introduced to her AFTER the overblot while just being friends with Malleus, Maleficia would at first be shocked and refuse to believe it. Afterall, how could a magicless human possibly save one of the top five most powerful mages in the world??? However, over time, when she sees that her grandson isn't joking and hasn't gone insane, she would eventually warm up to you and be extremely kind to you. Afterall, you DID save her grandson's life. If Y/N was introduced to her BEFORE the overblot and while she and Malleus WERE dating, she would be ardently against the relationship. Not only would a dragon fairy crown prince with powerful magic dating a magicless human commoner cause numerous political and social problems, but she knows better than anyone else that humans can leave behind the most devastating of broken hearts even before they're dead. But if Y/N was introduced to her while she and Malleus were a couple AFTER the overblot, as mentioned earlier, she would be very reluctant to believe such a revelation but would eventually come to quite passionately, support the relationship. With that said, the most that you'll be is Malleus' future queen consort, and the least that you'll be is his mistress. If you were to choose the former, she would be overjoyed and along with all your royal fae teachers, teach you all that you need to know to be a member of the royal Draconia family as well as the future queen of Briar Valley.

A like is a punch to Queen Maleficia's human ex-boyfriend!

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