#woven destinies

[valkblue]

I gotta ask about the art nouveau gaerel ^^

Hi!! Thank you for asking! You'll make @isilrina dance for the rest of the day with this request 😉 It's an illustration for her BG3 story, Woven Destinies (on AO3). The color palette is already giving me headaches but I already have a few leads to explore, so we'll see what works best.

[isilrina]

Erel'Vrae is one of my oldest original characters. Over the years, I've created several characters with that name. Some changed names later on, but in a way, she represents my archetype of the Drow woman. She's sort of my Jane Doe, and later, as I learn more about them and the world I want to write them into, the name might change.

So when Baldur's Gate 3 was released, I knew I was going to create an Erel'Vrae. She's no longer a beast master but is now a gloom stalker, now that I have a better understanding of the two ranger archetypes.

This iteration of Erel'Vrae is a character who escaped from the dark clutches of Lolth, the Spider Queen, under the guidance of her aunt—a devoted follower of Eilistraee. Eilistraee, also known as The Dark Maiden, is not only the goddess of song, dance, swordwork, hunting, moonlight, and beauty but also the daughter of Lolth herself.

Erel'Vrae's journey takes her away from the Underdark, and she starts a life on the surface. Along her way, she finds herself abducted by mind flayers, and as she tries to escape, she meets some companions.

However, being the overly creative person that I am, I couldn't resist writing about it. This is how "Woven Destinies" came to life, and this scene is directly excerpted from one of its early chapters.

In this drawing, titled 'The Dark Maiden's Song,' Erel'Vrae passionately sings for her beloved goddess while a certain wizard, Gale Dekarios from Waterdeep, secretly listens, captivated by the scene before him. It's a moment of magic and emotion captured in this artwork.

To further align it with the story and the game, I incorporated elements of the first camp landscape into the background. Specifically, those exact rocks are located just behind Gale's tent.

It was quite a challenge because I had never drawn someone in that pose, submerged in water or illuminated by moonlight, but it turned out exactly as I had envisioned.

The idea of the moonlight reflecting on her and her surroundings was suggested by my sister, @valkblue.

[amaltheas-garden]

when u point out Dany having the power of god x3 to destroy any city she doesn't like might be a bad thing and probably won't be rewarded by the narrative

targies: noooo it will be fine because Dany would NEVER do that she's just too fundamentally GOOD to ever be corrupted by unlimited power 🙃 source: trust me bro

apparently the theme of asoiaf is absolute power is good, actually, we just need to make sure the *right* people have it 😇

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

uther asks arthur how he can trust a man that has lied to him and like...that's arthur's entire story. he trusts merlin over and over and over again, even when maybe he shouldn't or there are so many reasons thrown into his face trying to convince him not to, but he does he does he does. and merlin lies to him in small and big ways, always for him, doing the thing that he hates and that hurts him the most because it's for arthur, this man who trusts merlin so much, and it's, idk something something about arthur completely trusting the one man who lies to him and it's so complex and so easy and there's just something MORE than black and white truth here that shatters all barriers and connects these two men together so strongly

[scroogemcducksbastardchild]

recently realized that the reason i’m so attached to angst and queerbait is because that longing is the closest thing i can feel to romantic attraction. romantic fluff doesn’t mean anything to me (if anything it makes me actively uncomfortable) and cutting a story off before it gets to that point is my way of.. living vicariously through the characters, i guess. grief is the closest i can get to heartache.

[twicetolivetwicetodie]

This episode is so Wheel of Time coded

[renegadxd]

tags pt 1 ~

[viaetor]

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 . . . ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ( 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 — 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 1 / ? ) ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ to be continued ?

... _________________________________________

 #𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄: a drabble exploring the twins fighting in a mysterious domain. paimon and dainsleif were taken by abyss heralds. aether and lumine finally battle each other for the first time... but it won't be the last. this drabble explores a bit about their past as 𝑐𝑎𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, as well as promises left unsaid or not kept by the two of them. this post was cut due to its length, but it's completely sfw despite some mild violence suggestions. based on the wonderful plots and threads with @destinywoven's lumine. thank you for letting me write this, thyme! ♡ / inspiration here & here (as well as art credit) .

__________________________________________ ...

ㅤㅤhis dear sister was a liar.

ㅤㅤ“you’ll never leave me, right?”

ㅤㅤ“i’m here.”

ㅤㅤwhen his wings were torn apart, shattered from their roots as he fell into the damned world of teyvat, she was nowhere to be found. when he was feeling lost and cold, her hand had not met his to hold. when his cheeks were burnt by his spilt comrades’ blood, she was not there to cover his eyes as their bodies hit the ground. ever since then, he perfectly understood what abandonment meant. yet he still prayed to find her, still prayed for her, begged the stars to let them reunite in exchange for anything his spirit could offer—but his pleas met only a void. such deafening silence screamed a harsh truth he played deaf too long to keep on avoiding; they had forsaken him. she had forsaken him for hundreds and more hundreds of years.

ㅤㅤ“i’m here.”

ㅤㅤand to that, his sword seemed to lash out: do you remember, dear sister, when you lulled me to sleep after a nightmare? do you remember when you left me behind on this planet to rot without you? do you remember when you braided my hair for the first time with your wounded hands because you said it felt nice and soft to the touch? do you remember when you left me to fight by myself as millions around me died? do you remember our first time picking up flowers that looked just like you? do you remember me, the brother you’ve betrayed?

ㅤㅤ“i’m here.”

ㅤㅤliar. liar. liar!

ㅤㅤah, no matter. they’d have enough time to make up for such treasons. he could forgive her—for old times’ sake.

ㅤㅤshe had grown sluggish, it seemed. her sword grip was too lax; there was no way she could cause an effective blow against him. or maybe he was misremembering what a fierce warrior she was? more than that, all those years apart had made her capable of parrying his attacks—he knew how much she hated blocking. still, what kind of exaggeratedly fancy technique was that? far too knightly for his taste and easy to block. and to think she was the gods’ chosen one… tsk. didn’t she notice their blessings were holding her down? parry, strike, parry, strike, strike. she took a step back, then two, three, five. come on, she had to be better than this. how pitiful.

ㅤㅤoh… could it be that she was holding back against him? 

ㅤㅤwas she mocking him?

ㅤㅤheavy is the hand that holds a celestial sword—aiming for her arm, he instead opened a lengthy cut on her cheek. so she was at least paying attention. the horror in those sandy doe eyes showed him that much. that, and how she had thrown herself backwards, hitting the floor with a gasp. good. her golden eyes did not match his, though. he wondered why.

ㅤㅤ“stop staring at me like that, lumine. you started this.” there was a controlled rage in his voice. a spite that made his voice taste bitter, putrid, disdainful with a scoff. but he wasn’t lying. aether never lied, unlike his dear sister. “you refuse to let me continue with my plans. you ally yourself with my enemies. you take the gods’ side. and now you’re fighting me because of, what exactly? a puny pixie?”

ㅤㅤshaking his head in disapproval, the prince walked to where a pinkish tiara lay amidst the debris, picking it up with his index finger as if the object was unworthy of his regal attention. lumine had all his attention on him, it seemed—analysing how his posture had changed, how he held his blade in a different fashion, how his visage beamed no longer, instead resting with this eerie, stoic expression. 

ㅤㅤso when he suddenly smiled, it did not match the lingering flame of his eyes. “it appears you’ve found a new home; congratulations.” the click of his heels echoed through the ruined domain before he squatted down to place the tiara on her blonde head, with the same delicacy of fingers as when he had first tugged those beautiful flowers behind her ear. unfortunately, it was a tad too small. “i was hoping you’d understand me… we always saw eye to eye, after all. but i was naive…”

ㅤㅤanother grin, wider than his last. the abyssal creature in front of her resembled not her brother in the slightest. around them, specks of stardust and abyss started to hoof, engulfing her figure.

ㅤㅤ“i had forgotten we are siblings no more.”

ㅤㅤdarkness. cold. suffocating. he was no longer there.

ㅤㅤ“goodbye, lumine.”

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

anyway sometimes I listen to this song and think about Irving Braxiatel and his weird little sibling who gets into trouble and causes scandals and has terrible taste in friends (and possibly doesn’t even belong to this universe and is older than their whole civilization). and then I go insane.

[cptnpike]

and i will try not to get lost / to meet you where our paths cross / and all i know is i would would go anywhere, anywhere / all i know i would go for you.

@owedfavors

[isilrina]

Hey everyone, it's Art Monday! 😊 Today, I'm sharing: "Let me work my magic."

Last summer, I was clearing out a storage unit I'd kept for 8 years, and due to my ADHD, most of its contents had been forgotten. It took my husband and me some time to clear it, but among my stuff, I found a CD I'd burned years ago with pictures of people in various poses, possibly for future drawing references.

At the time, I remember thinking, "Like everything else, I'll stash it somewhere and forget about it."

Turns out, some of the pictures on that CD are no longer available online, removed somehow, and I need them for reworking some of my older drawings. So, in the end, I'm glad I made that CD.

Now, about this particular drawing—while going through the poses on the CD, one struck me. I'd just started playing BG3 after cleaning the storage unit, and it resonated so much with my Original Character and Gale that I had to draw them.

It took me a few days (can't recall exactly how long, but it was swift), and it felt so right, very relaxing. Plus, it was during this time that I began detailing hair in a more intricate way. You'll see what I mean in my upcoming art posts! 😉

So, presenting Gale of Waterdeep and Erel'Vrae, my Drow Gloom Stalker.

I'd waited two decades for this game, and it sparked my creativity so much that it reignited my passion for writing. Their story, "Woven Destinies," can be found on Ao3, and I'm thinking about posting it on my second blog, "X-Press it!" too.

See you on Monday!

[ve1ljumpers]

❛⠀ well, this is a surprise, ❜⠀ he says, stepping aside to let her in. perhaps it would've been wiser to hold back, skip any comment that might spook her back to her own quarters, but if there is one thing he's learned about commander evers, and it might just be one thing, it's that honesty is the path of least resistance, even when it might appear at first glance to be impolite. ❛⠀ i was expecting your apologies any moment now. ❜⠀

˚ · .✧ – starter call / @owedfavors

[bbcphile]

This FB post by Rebecca Solnit is the thing keeping me sane this morning,so I’m sharing it here in case it helps you all, too:

“They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving. You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is. The pain you feel is because of what you love.

The Wobblies used to say don't mourn, organize, but you can do both at once and you don't have to organize right away in this moment of furious mourning. You can be heartbroken or furious or both at once; you can scream in your car or on a cliff; you can also get up tomorrow and water the flowerpots and call someone who's upset and check your equipment for going onward.

A lot of us are going to come under direct attack, and a lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary. Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones.

People kept the faith in the dictatorships of South America in the 1970s and 1980s, in the East Bloc countries and the USSR, women are protesting right now in Iran and people there are writing poetry. There is no alternative to persevering, and that does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it's sunny or raining. Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself, because you are interwoven with the ten trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.”

[cptnpike]

@owedfavors

Am I your only friend? Like, I know I’m your only friend down here.

SILO 1.06 The Relic

[51voices]

Ex-Factor: Behind the Smile

Kinkvember Day 3: Blackmail (Yandere Jiheon)

Fromis_9 Baek Jiheon x Male reader

AN: Daylight savings + weekend = Earlier update 💖😊

In the dazzling universe of K-pop, where glitzy performances and fanfare reign supreme, love often becomes a bittersweet melody, intricately woven into the fabric of fame, fortune, and relentless ambition. Amidst the swirling lights of concerts, the deafening cheers from adoring fans, and the ceaseless training sessions, two talented idols—Jiheon and you—found a quiet oasis in each other’s hearts.

From the moment you met, it felt as if destiny had intertwined your fates. Jiheon, a rising star with a captivating stage presence that could light up any arena, had a magnetic charm that drew you in. Your own charisma, a sweet yet powerful aura, complemented hers perfectly. Together, you became a dynamic duo, weathering the storms of the industry while nurturing a love that blossomed in the less glamorous and quieter corners of life.

Your relationship was not built on grand gestures but on cherished moments behind the scenes. Late-night phone calls stretched into early mornings, where soft laughter and shared dreams painted a beautiful tapestry of intimacy. Cozy dinners became your refuge from the demanding schedules that dictated your lives, where you exchanged stories, hopes, and fears over steaming bowls of ramen or comforting plates of kimchi.

Your romance seemed like a fairytale. You were the couple everyone dreamed of being, seemingly pursuing your aspirations together with the promise of a shared future. From the outside, it appeared as though you cheered each other on during rehearsals, hearts racing not just for personal triumphs but for the joy of achieving success together on grand stages. Yet, little did they realize, there was much more beneath the surface.

Stolen kisses between dance practice, secret notes exchanged backstage, and quiet walks beneath shimmering city lights became treasured memories, preserving the sweetness of your love against the bitter backdrop of industry pressures. Your relationship was a gem, rare and precious, glimmering even amid the sparkle of stardom.

Yet, the reality of K-pop stardom is that it is often fleeting and fiercely demanding. As Jiheon’s career soared, propelled by her talent and charisma, the expectations placed on her intensified, like shadows growing longer as the sun sets. With each comeback, the stakes climbed higher, drawing her deeper into the relentless cycle of training, performances, and public appearances.

As the demands of your respective careers pulled you further apart, the strain began to show. Training sessions grew longer and more exhaustive, leaving scant time for romance. Jiheon found herself grappling with a heart pulled in two directions—her dreams, glittering and tangible, clashed with the love she cherished. In her mind, thoughts spiraled: Was it selfish to hold onto this love when her career beckoned?

In moments of quiet reflection, Jiheon wrestled with the haunting belief that letting you go might be an act of love itself. Perhaps distancing herself from you would give her the freedom to reach new heights, allowing her to fully invest in her career. It was a painful paradox—the closer she got to her dreams, the more she felt she had to sacrifice.

Then came the fateful day when Jiheon finally found the courage to speak the words that had been clawing at her insides for weeks. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her hands trembling at her sides. The two of you stood in a quiet corner of the park, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows that danced around your feet.

“I think… I think we should break up.” The words tumbled out like heavy stones, each one crashing down inside you, echoing the unshakable truth that you both had been avoiding.

“It’s better this way, for both of us,” she continued, her gaze dropping to the ground, as if she could will the earth to swallow her pain. The sun flickered through the leaves overhead, but it felt as if the warmth had suddenly vanished, leaving behind an icy chill that seeped into your bones.

The enormity of her words hung in the air, heavy and stark, as if time itself had halted. You could hardly breathe as your tear-filled eyes met hers, searching for some glimmer of hope, something to hold on to. But all you saw was the anguish mirrored in her heart, reflected in those shimmering pools of despair.

“What? Jiheon… Please,” you pleaded, your voice cracking as desperation clawed at your throat. “Can’t we find another way? We’ve been through so much together. I can’t just let you go.”

She took a step back, the physical distance between you somehow amplifying the emotional chasm that had opened up. “You don’t understand,” she replied, her voice breaking as she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I love you but, our relationship is bottlenecking our progress. Things aren’t the way they used to be, and pretending will only hurt us more.”

The pain of each syllable cut deeper than any knife, reverberating within your chest like the tolling of a bell, ominously marking what felt like the end of your world. You longed to reach out, to pull her close and reassure her — both of you — that everything would be okay. But the wall of resolve in her eyes held you back.

“Is this really what you want?” you asked, your heart racing as you grasped for any thread of connection that could pull her back from this precipice. “We can work on this, together.”

Jiheon shook her head, the weight of her decision heavy on her shoulders. “It’s not healthy for us, I can't keep holding you back… or myself.”

With that, the finality of her words settled like an inescapable fog around you. In her belief that this was the right choice, a choice steeped in love and sacrifice, Jiheon felt her spirit fracture, the pieces scattering like fallen leaves caught in a relentless gust of wind.

“Please don’t do this,” you whispered, the vulnerability of your voice revealing just how unprepared you were to let go. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know,” her voice quivered, the pain evident in her expression as she stepped closer, reaching for your hand, squeezing it tightly as if to breathe life into the moment. “I'm sorry"

As her fingers slipped from yours, you felt a part of yourself tear away, and all you could do was stand there, motionless, as the world moved on around you, leaving only silence and the bittersweet taste of love lost.

The silence that followed was deafening, an echoing void that enveloped you both. You longed to reach out, to pull her back into your embrace, to tell her that love could be a guiding light rather than a hindrance. But those words caught in your throat, drowned by despair. The choice she made loomed large, instilling a heavy weight of regret that would soon settle in her heart.

-----

Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. Jiheon had once been the girl who laughed in the warmth of love, the one who danced on the threshold of joy with you by her side. Now, she found herself enveloped in the unrelenting spotlight of fame, yet that brightness felt dulled without your light alongside her. Memories of their shared laughter haunted her during moments of solitude, the ghost of your love coloring her world with bittersweet shades of sorrow. As she navigated the bustling stages of her career alone, the emptiness in her chest loomed large, an omnipresent reminder of your absence.

One particular night, Jiheon, trying to shake off the weight of her loneliness, stepped into a downtown club where the pulsating beats reverberated through her body. Surrounded by her group mates, she swallowed a cocktail and attempted to dance mindlessly under flashing lights that painted the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. For a fleeting moment, she felt the flicker of joy in the chaos—an illusion that quickly shattered when her eyes scanned the room.

Amidst the crowd, they landed on a sight that sent her heart racing—you, radiant and alive. You danced with abandon beside another girl, laughter spilling from your lips and merging with the booming bass into a perfect symphony of youth and freedom. The sparkle in your eyes was familiar yet painfully distant, doubling Jiheon’s heartache. A violent pang of jealousy and anger twisted in her gut like a sharp knife. How could you seem so happy without her, so completely unbothered by the void your absence had created in her heart?

In a moment of impulse, Jiheon whipped out her phone and captured a candid photo of you caught mid-laugh, blissfully unaware of the eyes that watched from the shadows. That snapshot froze you in a moment of pure joy, yet it morphed into something darker for Jiheon—a testament to her possessiveness over a love that felt just out of reach. The joyful essence of the photo twisted into a haunting reminder of what could have been, nagging at her heart like a persistent itch.

As the night wore on, the music thumping around her seemed to amplify the mixed feelings flooding through her veins—joy for your happiness mingled with regret for abandoned dreams, longing for the connection they once shared, and an undeniable ache that settled deep within her chest. Was this life of stardom truly worth the heartache and longing? She wrestled with that question as her mind spiraled between the vibrant images of what you had and the person you were now becoming without her presence.

Within the mass of dancers and flashing lights, nostalgia crashed over Jiheon like waves, drowning her in an undeniable truth: sometimes, the glitz and glam of fame pale in comparison to the warmth and richness of love. Her eyes locked onto you from across the room, a smile gracing your lips as you exchanged a casual laugh with a girl from earlier. It made her chest constrict with an unfamiliar ache, the pulse of the music no longer in sync with her own racing heartbeat.

She thumbed her phone, where the image she had taken earlier burned in her gallery. A snapshot of you and that girl, smiling, close enough that it could easily stir rumors. Jiheon knew the chaos such a photo could spark in your carefully curated idol world. A flicker of unease mingled with something darker as she stared at it, the thought of you drifting even an inch further away igniting an unsettling possessiveness inside her.

As the beat thumped, matching the thrum of blood in her ears, something began to click in her mind. Maybe it was the drinks, the warmth of the alcohol unlocking a part of her she hadn’t known existed—one that thrived on the possessive edge coursing through her. The distance she had imposed between the two of you, the careful walls and silences, now felt like chains she’d fastened herself into. The room around her blurred—dancers, lights, and music melding into a shifting, indistinct haze.

A slow smile spread across her lips, soft yet shadowed with an intensity that felt foreign, thrilling. That ever-lingering question looped in her head: Could it truly be too late to find your way back to each other?

The answer, she decided, was simple. No. It wouldn’t be, not if she had anything to do with it.

-----

The next day dawned bright and deceptively warm, sunlight streaming through Jiheon’s bedroom window like a foreboding harbinger of a day meant for clarity. Yet as she sat cross-legged on her bed, chaos swirled within her like a gathering storm. In her hands lay a photo that had the power to irrevocably change everything.

Sobering up, Jiheon’s heart raced as she wrestled with her choice. The image represented a moment of vulnerability—one that, if leaked, could shatter your carefully curated image in the idol world. The thought sent chills coursing through her veins; yet desperation gnawed at her, urging her to take an action that felt both reckless and necessary. She felt ludicrous, turning her cherished memories into a weapon, but her heart battled fiercely with her desperation.

With trembling fingers hovering hesitantly over her phone, Jiheon finally composed a chilling ultimatum: “Meet me at this hotel room tonight, or I’ll leak this photo. I know how much you value your reputation. Don't make me do this.”

As soon as she hit send, a heavy silence enveloped her space. Anxiety pooled in her stomach, and she felt the weight of her decision pressing down on her like an unbearable load. There was no turning back now. She was fully aware that this power play could lead to a scandal that would reverberate through every corner of the entertainment industry. Yet, blinded by emotion, she oscillated between anger and longing—a desperate desire for you to confront the tumultuous feelings they had both been suppressing for far too long.

The moments following were excruciating. Jiheon paced around the small hotel room, her mind racing with questions and regrets. What if you didn’t come? What if you did, but the encounter spiraled out of control? The sound of her own heartbeat thudded in her ears, amplifying the suffocating tension. She glanced at the glowing screen of her phone, waiting for the telltale sign of a response. The room felt colder, the stillness more suffocating than she had anticipated.

-----

Outside Jiheon’s hotel door, you stood in a genuine emotional whirlwind. Underneath the cacophony of your racing heartbeat was an undercurrent of dread. The chilly evening air did nothing to quell the unease gnawing at you. You stood there, grappling with thoughts of what you might find inside. The idol world was merciless, filled with the sharp teeth of scrutiny and public judgment, where one misstep could lead to downfall.

Every fiber in your being urged you to turn and walk away, to deny the pull that had dragged you to this place. Yet, deep down, you knew that this encounter was inevitable—an ending and a beginning all at once. Taking a deep breath, you raised your fist, but paused for a heartbeat, listening to the silence on the other side.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, you knocked on the door, your knuckles barely making contact before it swung open. Jiheon stood there dressed in an oversized sweatshirt that nonchalantly hung off her shoulder, emanating an allure that contradictorily disarmed you even as your heart raced with apprehension. Her casual smirk felt like a mask she wore to hide her true intentions.

“Hey, you made it! Come on in,” she chirped, her voice bubbling with false cheer as she stepped aside to let you enter. The moment you crossed the threshold, a palpable shift in the air hit you. The hotel room was more spacious than you expected, yet it felt stifling. Soft yellow lighting from the bedside lamps cast warm pools that clashed with the cold tension that hovered between you. The room was immaculately tidy, with crisp white sheets tucked tightly over the bed and modern, minimalist décor—a sterile contrast to the storm of emotions brewing in the space.

Jiheon closed the door behind you, and the sound of the lock clicking into place seemed to echo louder than it should, sending a shiver down your spine. The brightness in her eyes dimmed, replaced by an expression heavy with tension. “Thanks for coming. I know this is... unusual,” she said, each word carefully measured, her posture rigid as if bracing for impact. The energy of the room was suffocating, thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

You took a tentative step forward, eyes darting around for some kind of anchor. A plush armchair sat near the window, where the faint glow of the city bled through gauzy curtains. The muted hum of traffic below seemed worlds away, unable to penetrate the thick atmosphere pressing against your chest. Your gaze settled back on Jiheon, who stood by the door, arms folded, her face a blend of vulnerability and defiance.

“About that picture,” she began, the words slicing through the silence and drawing your attention like a blade. You swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in your throat. “Where did you even get it?” The question came out sharper than intended, but you couldn’t mask the desperation behind it.

“Does it matter?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she shifted her weight, crossing one ankle over the other as if to project nonchalance. The effect was betrayed by the subtle tension in her jaw. “What matters is that it could ruin everything for you.” She spoke matter-of-factly, her tone unyielding. The polished veneer of the hotel room seemed to close in, amplifying every strained breath. “Your fans will go crazy, their precious, innocent maknae getting it on with a random girl in a club. Don’t even get me started with your label... we both know about your dating ban.” Her voice dropped, and she looked away momentarily, exhaling as if trying to push her doubts aside. “I don’t want all that drama. So here’s the deal.”

A wave of dread washed over you, pooling in your stomach like ice water. “What do you mean, ‘the deal’?” The question was barely more than a whisper, the fear in your voice betraying the bravado you were trying to muster. The room’s silence pressed against your ears, making the faint tick of the wall clock almost deafening.

Jiheon took a step closer, closing the already minimal space between you. The subtle scent of her perfume—a blend of jasmine and something uniquely her—suffused the air, adding to the disorientation. Her eyes glimmered with a mix of determination and something else, something unreadable that made your pulse race. “I’ll delete the photo, but in return, I want… something from you.”

The implication in her words hung between you like a storm cloud. “What are you saying?” you asked, the room’s oppressive heat making it hard to breathe. The Jiheon you knew was warm and disarming, a friend who had stood by you through countless late-night chats and shared secrets. This Jiheon, with her calculating eyes and steady stance, felt foreign.

“Come on, don’t act so surprised,” she said, a smile ghosting her lips without warmth. “The way this industry works, sometimes you have to play the game.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Besides, it’ll be fun. Just one night, and then I’ll make sure the photo disappears forever. No one has to know.”

You felt the room spin, the reality of her words slamming into you with suffocating force. Your eyes flickered to the unmade bed, the impersonal art on the walls, the sterile cleanliness that seemed to mock the chaos between you. The thought of your career unraveling, of headlines splashed across tabloids and the faces of your fans twisted in disappointment, made your hands clench into fists.

“What if I don’t agree?” you managed to say, the words brittle and sharp.

Jiheon leaned back against the corner of the desk, crossing her arms in a gesture that was more defensive than she intended. The gleam in her eyes turned cold. “Then I guess my fingers might just slip, and that photo finds its way to the wrong places. She tilted her head slightly, the edge of her voice softening. “But hey, it’s your choice.”

The quiet that followed was heavy, the dim light casting harsh shadows that stretched across the room like prison bars. Your chest tightened, each breath shallow as the gravity of her ultimatum pulled you deeper into an inescapable spiral.

“Fine. Just... let’s get this over with,” you said, your voice hollow as the words left your mouth. Jiheon’s smile grew, though it was tinged with something bittersweet, her eyes flickering with fleeting uncertainty before hardening into resolve.

“Great! You won’t regret it, I promise,” she replied, her voice silkier now, wrapping around you like a lie.

You couldn't shake the feeling of disgust and anger that bubbled within you. You couldn't believe that you had been manipulated in such a way, that you had allowed yourself to be coerced into something that you knew was wrong.

Jiheon finally took the matter into her own hands. She decided that it was time to get back what was rightfully hers.

You and your ex found yourselves in a dance of passion that was fraught with tension, each movement calculated and deliberate. As you undressed one another, the fabric that fell away seemed to peel back layers of your shared history, revealing a complex tapestry of emotions.

With a sudden burst of energy, Jiheon leapt onto the bed, her vibrance illuminating the otherwise somber space. Her eyes, alight with a mischievous hunger, locked onto yours, and your heart responded with a rapid staccato that matched the intensity of her gaze. It was a shift in dynamics that was both exhilarating and alarming.

"I want you to make me cum," she asserts, her voice a blend of command and seduction that sends shivers down your spine. The weight of her demand hangs heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the power she holds. "If you don't, the photo gets leaked." The threat is clear, and the stakes are high. It’s a game of pleasure and power, and you are unwittingly cast as a key player.

Jiheon's need for sexual fulfillment was palpable, a hunger that had been growing during your time apart. She was determined to reclaim the intimacy and release that she felt had been unjustly withheld. In her eyes, you possessed the skills necessary to satisfy her, and she was resolved to extract every ounce of pleasure she felt she deserved.

Caught in this web of desire and coercion, you face a dilemma that twists your stomach with apprehension. Your career, your reputation, everything you have worked for, hinges on your performance in this delicate situation. With a fortifying breath, you harden your resolve and prepare to meet the challenge head-on.

Your approach is steady, a predator stalking its prey with a singular focus. Jiheon lies before you, her finger crooking in a silent command for you to advance. Her legs part, an invitation—or is it a trap?—that you cannot ignore. You climb onto the bed, positioning yourself at the apex of her desire.

With a grip born of determination and a hint of aggression, you lifted her legs, draping them over your shoulders. Her gasp was a fleeting concern, quickly overshadowed by the task at hand. Your sole objective was to deliver the ecstasy Jiheon so fervently demanded.

You commenced with a series of slaps, your length striking against her most sensitive flesh, eliciting visceral and raw reactions. Then, with a thrust fueled by gravity and desperation, you plunged into her depths. Her body's undulations were unmistakable signs of pleasure, confirming that you were indeed striking the right chords within her.

Each stroke is met with increasing wetness, her arousal a slick testament to the intensity of your union. You drive deeper, using your natural lubrication to facilitate a rhythm that is both forceful and fluid. Your bodies move in, a dance as old as time, yet under these circumstances, it feels like uncharted territory.

Sweat began to drip as you continued to thrust with speed. The heat radiating from the former couple was intoxicating. Your body moved in perfect rhythm with hers. They would meet each other halfway just like it did during your time together. She moaned and writhed beneath you, her body tensing up as she got closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, kiss me," Jiheon demanded, her tone leaving little to no room for argument. With no choice, you leaned down and gave her a kiss, a kiss full of regret and hesitance. But Jiheon wasn't having it. She forced her way into your mouth and twirled her tongue around yours, asserting her dominance in this intimate moment.

Finally, just as she asked for, she couldn't take it any longer. She cried out in pleasure as she reached her climax, "YES, FUCK ME HARDER, HARDER" her body shaking and shuddering. You could feel every single one of her muscles clenching and contracting around your cock as you kept pounding out of frustration. But you knew from the way she quivered and screamed that you had done enough to save your career.

As she tried to come down from her high, Jiheon found herself becoming more and more aroused again, as her ex was relentless with his movement. The touch was confident and skilled, and she felt herself getting closer and closer to another release, and she could feel you too as your cock would twitch and pulse inside her.

Jiheon’s eyes sparkled with mischief, she had been anticipating this moment. She could see the tension building in your body, and she knew that you were on the brink of release. She planned her next move, determined to make this encounter one that you would never forget.

In a swift and calculated motion, Jiheon locked her legs around your waist in a vice-like grip, effectively trapping you in place. She could feel the surprise and confusion radiating coming from her hex, but she didn't give you a chance to react. With a sultry smile curling at the corners of her lips, she uttered her threat with a seductive purr.

"If you so much as think about pulling out now, I'll make good on my promise to leak that photo of you to the entire world," her voice dripping with confidence and determination.

You stared at her in disbelief, mind racing as you tried to come up with a way to escape. But Jiheon was prepared for this. She tightened her legs around your waist pulling you closer and making it clear that she was not going to let go.

"I mean it," her voice stern and unyielding. "You'd better finish what you started, or else I'll have no choice but to make good on my threat."

The gravity of her words hung heavy in the air. Jiheon's tone was firm, unyielding, and laced with a hint of warning that made it abundantly clear that she was dead serious about following through on her threat.

"You need to give me everything you've got," she continued, her voice taking on a softer, more sensual tone. "I want every single pump of your cum filling me up completely. Only then will I be satisfied."

Her demands were both bold and brazen, an assertion of her own desires and a challenge to meet her needs. Jiheon's words, coupled with the feeling of her legs still wrapped tightly around you, left little room for doubt - she intended to see this through to the end, and she expected you to do the same.

Your heart raced as you felt trapped and powerless in Jiheon's grasp. You knew she was not bluffing about the situation, but also knew she was capable of causing a scene and ruining your reputation. With no other choice, you accepted you fate and continued your assault.

Jiheon's smile grew wider as she felt you surrender. She wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you closer, relishing in the control she had.

"Jiheon… Please." The phrase was so simple, just two words, but the desperation in your voice made it hard to tell if you were pleading for mercy or on the verge of surrendering.

Nearing your climax, you attempted a hasty and sneaky quick pull-out maneuver, hoping to avoid the finality of the act. But Jiheon's strong and toned dancer's legs, honed through years of training and performance, refused to let him escape. She kept your hips firmly and deeply inside her, ensuring that you spilled every last drop.

Jiheon, nearing her release as well, used her legs to help you pump inside her.

"Ugh, Jiheon, don’t," you groaned, running your fingers through your hair as you felt the familiar sensation building inside of you "Shit, I can't hold it in any longer." Your tone was a mixture of anger and defeat, body becoming weak and you shuddered as you reached you climax.

"No!" Your voice cracked in desperation, your body trembling as you tried to hold back, but Jiheon’s grip was relentless. "Yes!" she moaned, her voice full of satisfaction, pumping into you harder, forcing your body deeper as your resolve shattered. Your hips bucked involuntarily, cock twitching as you spilled inside her, pulse after pulse, completely filling her up. Your pleas were drowned out by her triumphant cries, their bodies locked together as the heat of his release poured into her, unstoppable despite his struggle.

Jiheon’s smile, once warm and inviting, twisted into a smug, satisfied smirk. She had won, achieving exactly what she wanted. You were weak, utterly spent and defeated, your body betraying you as she basked in the triumph of your surrender, her victory undeniable in the heat of your aftermath.

Exhausted from the exertion and overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, you collapsed against Jiheon, your body going limp as you surrendered completely. Every muscle felt drained, leaving you helpless and vulnerable in her embrace. Jiheon’s fingers wove through your damp hair, but her touch wasn’t comforting—it was possessive, a reminder that you were now hers. She leaned closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction and control.

"Good boy," she murmured, the words laced with a dark promise. It wasn’t just praise; it was a claim, a subtle warning that you were under her dominance now, and there would be no escape.

Jiheon's arms encircle you with an intensity that feels like a claim, a branding of ownership that sends shivers down your spine. Her heartbeat, a steady rhythm against your own, seems to mock the chaos that is unfolding within you. This is not the tender embrace you had imagined in your dreams; it is the firm grasp of someone who has orchestrated this scenario to perfection.

Jiheon's voice broke the silence, her words slicing through your confusion with surgical precision. "We're dating now," she stated, her tone deceptively casual, yet it carried the weight of an irrevocable decree. There was no hint of doubt in her declaration, no invitation for debate. Your heart, already pounding from the shock of the situation, stuttered at her announcement. Dating? The word echoed in your head, a concept that you had never consented to, a path you had never agreed to walk with her.

Panic flutters in your chest, its wings beating frantically against the cage of Jiheon’s possessiveness. You had never anticipated that your ex, with her playful banter and shared secrets, could morph into something so controlling, so suffocating. Before you could gather your thoughts to protest, Jiheon’s embrace tightens, a silent message that resistance is futile. Her body presses against yours, not with the gentle warmth of a lover, but with the unyielding force of a conqueror.

You lay there, trapped in the ironclad embrace of someone you no longer recognized. Jiheon’s triumphant smile, etched with victory, watched the realization dawn on your face. There was no escape, no chance to rewind and undo the twisted knot that your relationship had become. Her eyes, once windows to a kindred spirit, now held a glint of domination that chilled you to the core.

Jiheon shifted slightly, still catching her breath, and you barely registered the subtle movement as she reached over to the nightstand. You felt her stir, saw the glint of her phone as she grabbed it, but it wasn’t until she gave you a mischievous grin that your heart lurched in your chest. Without hesitation, Jiheon spread her legs, revealing the undeniable evidence of your intimacy still glistening between her thighs. Your pulse quickened as she angled the phone, snapping a selfie that captured both of you, making it appear as though you were the one who had taken the photo.

To add to the cruelty, Jiheon crafted a look of mock terror on her face, making it seem as though you had forced her into the act. Her expression was so convincing that it sent a wave of dread crashing over you. Your stomach twisted as you watched her approve the photo, her smirk growing darker by the second.

A surge of panic hit you, and you lunged forward, trying to grab the phone from her hand. "Hey, give that back!" you demanded, your voice trembling with fear.

But Jiheon easily pulled the phone out of reach, a low, sinister laugh escaping her lips. "Oh no, baby," she purred, her eyes glinting with dangerous amusement. "I’m keeping this. You know… as insurance."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "Insurance? What do you mean?" you asked, dread sinking deeper into your bones.

Jiheon sat up slightly, her gaze hardening as she stared directly into your eyes. "If you ever, and I mean ever, break up or even just think about leaving me," she said slowly, her voice cold and deliberate, "I’ll leak this photo." She said with a smug tone, "I’ll release a statement about how you forced yourself on me, how you got me drunk and manipulated me. I’ll make sure you will never have a job again. You might even end up in jail." She tilted her head, her smile growing more twisted.

Your blood ran cold as her words settled in. Your mind raced, but there was nothing you could do. "You… you can’t be serious," you stammered, fear choking your voice. "You wouldn’t really—"

"Try me," Jiheon interrupted, her tone now deadly serious. Her gaze never wavered, her smile fading into something darker, more threatening. "I’m not afraid to ruin you; you’re mine to ruin." Then, just as quickly, her expression softened, her voice taking on a sickly sweet tone as she tilted her head, mimicking a look of innocence. "But we don’t have to worry about that, right, baby?"

Her innocent eyes contrasted with the threat she had just laid out, and you felt trapped, suffocated by the power she held over you. You swallowed hard, knowing you had no choice. "No…" you whispered, defeated. "No, we don’t."

"Good," Jiheon cooed, setting her phone back down on the nightstand with a satisfied smile. She nestled herself against you, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist. The weight of her body against yours didn’t feel comforting—it felt like a cage. "I’m glad we understand each other. Now, cuddle me."

Your chest tightened, the suffocating realization settling in. She had complete control, and there was nothing you could do to stop her. Reluctantly, you wrapped your arms around her, feeling the cold grip of your new reality sinking in. Jiheon’s contented hum filled the room, her satisfaction palpable.

Her voice was suddenly sweet and light, almost dreamy, as she uttered the words, "I love you." The sentiment was delivered with a softness and affection that could disarm even the most guarded heart, reminiscent of a confession from a school girl completely in love. Her eyes sparkled with an innocence that was both endearing and convincing. The grin that adorned her face was the epitome of purity, creating an illusion of a genuine moment of affection that seemed to bridge two souls in perfect harmony.

But as the recipient of this sudden outpouring of emotion, you found yourself momentarily paralyzed, unable to respond right away. The silence that followed was deafening, and in that brief interlude, the atmosphere shifted. The sweet, lovestruck girl before you vanished, replaced by someone whose intentions were far more malevolent.

In an abrupt and terrifying transformation, Jiheon's smile disappeared, and her eyes, once filled with warmth, now glinted with a sinister edge. With a swift and unexpected move, she used one hand to grab your cheeks, her thumb pressing firmly against one side of your face while her fingers dug into your skin on the other. She pulled your face toward hers, the grip both demanding and unyielding. "Say it," she hissed, her voice no longer soft but sharp and commanding. The sudden change in her demeanor left you bewildered, your mind racing to catch up with the rapidly deteriorating situation.

"Say what?" you managed to ask, your voice betraying the fear that was beginning to take hold. Her response was chilling, her fingers tightening around your waist, nails piercing your skin ever so slightly. "Say that you love me," she insisted, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

Her warm, affectionate facade had crumbled, revealing a person you barely recognized—someone who was willing to go to terrifying lengths to make you submit. A shiver of fear shot through you, mingling with disbelief, yet your mind struggled to process this abrupt shift. You tried to gather your words, stammering as you attempted to defuse the tension, to understand this dangerous new dynamic without provoking her further. But the silence that stretched between you seemed to amplify her anticipation, her eyes never wavering from yours, watching every twitch, every flicker of hesitation.

Then, with a swift and brutal decisiveness, Jiheon’s expression hardened. Her features contorted with impatience and a dark, twisted determination that sent another wave of panic surging through you. Before you could react, her other hand shot down and clamped around you, gripping your flaccid sensitive member with a force that made you gasp in pain, your body reflexively tensing under the unexpected pressure. The pain was sharp, searing, and impossible to ignore, cutting through your paralysis and grounding you in the raw, terrifying reality of the situation.

"Say it!" she hissed, her voice laced with venom, a brutal command that left no room for resistance. Her eyes bore into yours, ablaze with a fervent intensity that was both horrifying and unrecognizable—a look of possession, of absolute control, that left you feeling exposed and powerless. This wasn’t the Jiheon you knew; this was someone consumed by a desperate, obsessive need, someone who would not tolerate defiance.

Her grip tightened further, making you wince as a jolt of agony shot through you, stealing your breath. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, strangled by fear and confusion. Her nails dug into your skin, the slight prickling sensation a reminder that her affection had twisted into something far darker, far more dangerous than you’d ever anticipated.

"Say it," she repeated, her voice lowering to a near-growl, each syllable carrying an unspoken threat. The intensity in her gaze held you captive, her fingers pressing with a deliberate cruelty that sent a tremor through your body. She was relentless, her patience long spent, and the chilling certainty hit you—she wasn’t going to stop until you gave her exactly what she wanted.

"I... I love you," you stammered, the words dragged from you by fear and desperation. The moment they left your lips, her demeanor shifted again. Her grip released, and she softened, a satisfied smile curling at the edges of her mouth. She brushed her hand gently over your cheek as if in some twisted form of affection, her fingers trailing down your skin in a mockingly gentle touch.

"There we go," she murmured, her voice slipping back into that feigned tenderness. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?" She nestled closer, fitting her body seamlessly against yours as though nothing had happened. Her arms slid around you, draping over you in a way that felt suffocating rather than comforting. She hummed softly, her head resting on your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck.

You lay there, rigid, as the reality of your situation settled in. Her embrace, though gentle, felt like a cage tightening around you, each moment drawing you further into her control. Her fingers started to trace slow, lazy circles on your arm, an almost tender gesture that only added to the disquiet churning within you. Every brush of her fingers felt like a reminder that you were trapped, ensnared in her twisted idea of love.

Jiheon lifted her head and gazed at you with wide, adoring eyes, her expression teetering on the edge of mania, her gaze brimming with an unsettling, almost feverish devotion. Her arms tightened around you, the grip bruising as if she were afraid you'd slip through her fingers if she didn’t hold on tight enough. Without warning, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that was fierce and smothering, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs. Her mouth moved over yours with a hunger that bordered on obsession, each kiss deeper, more desperate, as though she needed to consume you entirely to feel complete.

When she finally pulled away, her lips didn’t stop—they traveled over your cheek, planting fervent kisses that turned into nips, her teeth grazing your skin in playful bites that grew sharper, more possessive with each one. Her mouth found your neck, where her kisses became relentless, almost frantic, punctuated by gentle, teasing bites that left faint stings in their wake. Each kiss, each bite felt like a claim, a brand, marking you as her own with every touch.

Between her fervent kisses, her breath brushed hot against your skin as she murmured in a soft, almost reverent tone, “You’re mine now.” Her voice dripped with a disturbing sweetness, a tenderness warped by the intensity of her obsession. “We belong together… forever.” Her lips found the curve of your shoulder, where she sank her teeth in, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to send a jolt of sensation through you, a reminder of her dominance. Her arms locked around you, pulling you impossibly closer, her embrace as unyielding as steel.

“No one else understands,” she whispered, her tone almost soothing, though her grip was anything but gentle. Her fingers traced up your spine, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched, her nails digging in just enough to leave faint imprints on your skin. “No one else could love you like I do,” she cooed, her voice lilting with an affection that sounded both sweet and sinister. “We’re perfect together, you know that, don’t you?”

She tilted her head, looking at you with that same unrelenting gaze, her fingers running through your hair, tugging gently before pressing another kiss to your jaw, her teeth grazing your skin in another possessive bite. Each touch, each whispered word held an unbreakable claim, binding you to her in a love that had long since spiraled into obsession.

You didn’t respond, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was lost in her own world, one where your silence was simply acceptance, where her love—twisted and possessive as it was—was something you reciprocated. Her fingers tangled in your hair, stroking and twirling, while her lips pressed over your skin again and again, each kiss carrying a desperation that unnerved you.

To her, this was the culmination of a perfect romance, the moment she’d always dreamed of. Her eyes glistened with a feverish joy as she whispered, "You and me… forever." She buried her face in the crook of your neck, her arms squeezing tighter, her body practically molding against yours. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, as though her happiness was so overwhelming that even air couldn’t fully reach her.

You lay there, stiff and helpless, your heart pounding as she continued her endless string of kisses and whispered confessions. She was clinging to you as if you were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality—yet it was clear her reality was a world built entirely on her delusions. She seemed blissfully unaware of your discomfort, every soft word, every fervent kiss drawing you deeper into her twisted world.

As her grip tightened, you knew with a chilling certainty that Jiheon wouldn’t let you go. In her mind, you were bound together, trapped forever in her obsessive love, with no hope of escape.

[wxstros]

Bonds Forged in Fire

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

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

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

CHAPTER TWO: NO LONGER A FREE WOMAN

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

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

Madness. Delusions. Paranoia..

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

never leave me; jacaerys utters with conviction.

tell me you need me; aemond, grips you.

tell me you love me; heleana whispers.

tell me you're mine...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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