#yes king murder your brother. he deserves it

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

why focus on the main plot & characters when i can flesh out a side character's entire Everything and also assign a song-

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

Prince Rhaegar as a character often gets some deserved criticism - and a lot of underserved hate. And one of the things that I think he unfairly gets blamed for is Elia Martell's tragedy. Elia's death is one of the primary objections people have towards Rhaegar and Lyanna being depicted as a romance, with readers believing that if they were just tragic lovers, then that diminishes Elia's own tragedy.

I...disagree. It is understandable (and honestly right) that readers would rally behind Elia. Not only was she horribly brutalized and murdered, but her children suffered absolutely terrible fates as well.

However, in trying to center Rhaegar and Lyanna's doomed dalliance in this, a lot of readers are missing the answer that has been already provided to us within the narrative. Not only that, but this line of thinking also ignores the key context in which Elia's senseless murder is portrayed.

As far as the text goes, Elia’s death is laid squarely at the feet of Tywin Lannister and his men, Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch. It's House Lannister's burden to bear.

Doran for one, Elia's brother, directly blames Tywin Lannister:

“You mistake patience for forbearance. I have worked at the downfall of Tywin Lannister since the day they told me of Elia and her children.”

The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

Even Oberyn agrees:

“Dwarf,” said the Red Viper, in a tone grown markedly less cordial, “spare me your Lannister lies. Is it sheep you take us for, or fools? My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years. Jon Arryn came to Sunspear the year after Robert took the throne, and you can be sure that he was questioned closely. Him, and a hundred more. I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry. I came for justice for Elia and her children, and I will have it. Starting with this lummox Gregor Clegane … but not, I think, ending there. Before he dies, the Enormity That Rides will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.” He smiled. “An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why that is, Imp?”

Tyrion IV, ASOS

“Is that the game we are playing?” Tyrion rubbed at his scarred nose. He had nothing to lose by telling Oberyn the truth. “There was a bear at Harrenhal, and it did kill Ser Amory Lorch.” “How sad for him,” said the Red Viper. “And for you. Do all noseless men lie so badly, I wonder?” “I am not lying. Ser Amory dragged Princess Rhaenys out from under her father’s bed and stabbed her to death. He had some men-at-arms with him, but I do not know their names.” He leaned forward. “It was Ser Gregor Clegane who smashed Prince Aegon’s head against a wall and raped your sister Elia with his blood and brains still on his hands.” “What is this, now? Truth, from a Lannister?” Oberyn smiled coldly. “Your father gave the commands, yes?” “No.” He spoke the lie without hesitation, and never stopped to ask himself why he should. The Dornishman raised one thin black eyebrow. “Such a dutiful son. And such a very feeble lie. It was Lord Tywin who presented my sister’s children to King Robert all wrapped up in crimson Lannister cloaks.”

Tyrion IX, ASOS

“Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne,” the Red Viper hissed. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children…“I came to hear you confess.”

Tyrion X, ASOS

Varys and Tyrion both understand that House Martell (but more specifically Doran) hates the Lannisters.

“The Dornishmen thus far have held aloof from these wars. Doran Martell has called his banners, but no more. His hatred for House Lannister is well known, and it is commonly thought he will join Lord Renly. You wish to dissuade him.” “All this is obvious,” said Tyrion. “The only puzzle is what you might have offered for his allegiance. The prince is a sentimental man, and he still mourns his sister Elia and her sweet babe.” “My father once told me that a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition … and it happens we have an empty seat on the small council, now that Lord Janos has taken the black.” “A council seat is not to be despised,” Varys admitted, “yet will it be enough to make a proud man forget his sister’s murder?” “Why forget?” Tyrion smiled. “I’ve promised to deliver his sister’s killers, alive or dead, as he prefers. After the war is done, to be sure.” Varys gave him a shrewd look. “My little birds tell me that Princess Elia cried a … certain name … when they came for her.” “Is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it?” In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands. “This secret is your lord father’s sworn man.” “My father would be the first to tell you that fifty thousand Dornishmen are worth one rabid dog.” Varys stroked a powdered cheek. “And if Prince Doran demands the blood of the lord who gave the command as well as the knight who did the deed …” “Robert Baratheon led the rebellion. All commands came from him, in the end.” “Robert was not at King’s Landing.” “Neither was Doran Martell.”

Tyrion IV, ACOK

Really, all the nobles know where to look at when assigning blame for Elia's murder. Tywin.

“Prince Doran comes at my son’s invitation,” Lord Tywin said calmly, “not only to join in our celebration, but to claim his seat on this council, and the justice Robert denied him for the murder of his sister Elia and her children.” Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.

Tywin, for the most part, quite shamelessly tries to disassociate himself from his own moral failings; this is nothing new, because he follows this same MO with squarely blaming the Freys for the Red Wedding even though he played an integral part in planning for it.

“Then why did the Mountain kill her?” “Because I did not tell him to spare her. I doubt I mentioned her at all. I had more pressing concerns. Ned Stark’s van was rushing south from the Trident, and I feared it might come to swords between us. And it was in Aerys to murder Jaime, with no more cause than spite. That was the thing I feared most. That, and what Jaime himself might do.” He closed a fist. “Nor did I yet grasp what I had in Gregor Clegane, only that he was huge and terrible in battle. The rape … even you will not accuse me of giving that command, I would hope. Ser Amory was almost as bestial with Rhaenys. I asked him afterward why it had required half a hundred thrusts to kill a girl of … two? Three? He said she’d kicked him and would not stop screaming. If Lorch had half the wits the gods gave a turnip, he would have calmed her with a few sweet words and used a soft silk pillow.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The blood was in him.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

“And when Oberyn demands the justice he’s come for?” “I will tell him that Ser Amory Lorch killed Elia and her children,” Lord Tywin said calmly. “So will you, if he asks.” “Ser Amory Lorch is dead,” Tyrion said flatly. “Precisely. Vargo Hoat had Ser Amory torn apart by a bear after the fall of Harrenhal. That ought to be sufficiently grisly to appease even Oberyn Martell.” “You may call that justice …” “It is justice. It was Ser Amory who brought me the girl’s body, if you must know. He found her hiding under her father’s bed, as if she believed Rhaegar could still protect her. Princess Elia and the babe were in the nursery a floor below.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

Tywin tries to alleviate himself of any responsibility by blaming his men, but the narrative actively calls bullshit on this (through Tywin's own son no less).

So the narrative shows through multiple POVs that Elia's murder is contextualized exclusively as a failing on Tywin Lannister and his men; not only was it a moral failing, but Tyrion also questions if it was politically necessary in the first place. It's also important to note that ASOS is when we really dive into the matter of Elia and her children (mostly through Oberyn), but we also have to remember that this is the same book as the Red Wedding. The Red Wedding, another one of Tywin's senseless massacres that he tries to postulate as politically necessary.

So, we have agreed that the blame and context for Elia's (and her children's) murder is presented through the lens of Tywin as an immoral politician who often makes politically unnecessary moves. But then we ask ourselves, can the responsibility of this tragedy be extended? Well, yes it can. And it has been in the text.

Ser Barristan extends this tragedy beyond Tywin and his men

...to King Robert.

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Ned Stark does as well.

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

Eddard II, AGOT

And so does Tywin, who uses Robert's tacit approval as justification for this senseless act.

Lord Tywin stared at him as if he had lost his wits. “You deserve that motley, then. We had come late to Robert’s cause. It was necessary to demonstrate our loyalty. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt that we had forsaken House Targaryen forever. And Robert’s relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar’s children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children.” His father shrugged. “I grant you, it was done too brutally. Elia need not have been harmed at all, that was sheer folly. By herself she was nothing.”

Tyrion VI, ASOS

So if we can't extend the blame to Rhaegar, because the narrative doesn't do so either, what can we hold him responsible for? Let's take a step back and look at Rhaegar's culpability in this whole thing.

Was Rhaegar (and Lyanna) responsible for starting the war that would eventually lead to Elia's murder?

No. GRRM doesn't think so. The war actually started when King Aerys murdered the Lord of Winterfell and his heir, a bunch of other northern nobles, and then called for the heads of Robert Baratheon (Lord of Storm's End) and Ned Stark (the new Lord of Winterfell). Aerys broke the feudal contract, and so Jon Arryn declared war.

I don't think I would have stayed loyal to the Mad King. Do I think they were justified? Yes, and no. [...] There was no doubt that the Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and he was abusing his power. And Westeros has no Magna Carta or anything like that. There was no way to handle this within the rule of law. But was what they do justified? Especially when you consider that it was triggered by a personal grievance. The execution of Ned's father and brother was really a thing that radicalized Ned and put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and didn't like the fact that he'd lost his girlfriend. So you know, the personal informs the political.

source

Rhaegar and Lyanna's disappearance was merely the spark - it led to a misunderstanding that caused Brandon Stark to ride to Kingslanding. What really caused the war was Aerys' Targaryens subsequent actions as the king. So if we want to blame someone for causing the chain of events that led to Elia's death as well as her children's, the author himself says to blame Aerys; even though I don't think this is right either because we once again stray from the necessary (and sole) context of Elia's murder - Tywin's bloody hands.

Fine. Rhaegar was not responsible for the war. But surely he is responsible for leaving Elia in King's Landing, right in the clutches of Mad King Aerys. Well, this again, is not true. As far as Rhaegar knew, Elia was in Dragonstone with Aegon and Rhaenys where he left them.

As cold winds hammered the city, King Aerys II turned to his pyromancers, charging them to drive the winter off with their magics. Huge green fires burned along the walls of the Red Keep for a moon’s turn. Prince Rhaegar was not in the city to observe them, however. Nor could he be found in Dragonstone with Princess Elia and their young son, Aegon.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

At some point, Elia was called to King's Landing. And it was Aerys who kept her hostage there as insurance against possible Dornish betrayal (remember, he was paranoid).

Side Note: Aerys kept another important political hostage in King's Landing along with Elia - Jaime Lannister; this is to deter anyone from trying to blame Jaime for doing nothing. He was a teenager and a hostage himself!

“My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father’s son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all.” He remembered how Rossart’s eyes would shine when he unrolled his maps to show where the substance must be placed. Garigus and Belis were the same. “Rhaegar met Robert on the Trident, and you know what happened there. When the word reached court, Aerys packed the queen off to Dragonstone with Prince Viserys. Princess Elia would have gone as well, but he forbade it. Somehow he had gotten it in his head that Prince Lewyn must have betrayed Rhaegar on the Trident, but he thought he could keep Dorne loyal so long as he kept Elia and Aegon by his side. The traitors want my city, I heard him tell Rossart, but I’ll give them naught but ashes. Let Robert be king over charred bones and cooked meat. The Targaryens never bury their dead, they burn them. Aerys meant to have the greatest funeral pyre of them all. Though if truth be told, I do not believe he truly expected to die. Like Aerion Brightfire before him, Aerys thought the fire would transform him … that he would rise again, reborn as a dragon, and turn all his enemies to ash.

Jaime V, ASOS

Ok, fine. So Rhaegar did not abandon her with Aerys then run off to Lyanna. But he should have done something when he came back, right? Why didn't he leave more Kings Guard with Elia and the children?

Well....this is a war. The knights of the KG are important assets on the battle field. Kings Landing, at the time, was not the most dangerous location. The KG were better off at the Trident, as a victory there would protect those who were left behind in KL.

And it's not that Rhaegar didn't do anything. Beyond going off to lead the battle himself, he tried to make moves that would help those who were back in KL (Elia and the children included).

He floated in heat, in memory. “After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him.” Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? “He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins’ men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King’s Landing. Beneath Baelor’s Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Jaime V ASOS

And Jaime's POV once again shows us that Rhaegar banked on victory at the Trident, and was fully expecting to come back to KL and amend the fraught political situation.

The day had been windy when he said farewell to Rhaegar, in the yard of the Red Keep. The prince had donned his night-black armor, with the three-headed dragon picked out in rubies on his breastplate. “Your Grace,” Jaime had pleaded, “let Darry stay to guard the king this once, or Ser Barristan. Their cloaks are as white as mine.” Prince Rhaegar shook his head. “My royal sire fears your father more than he does our cousin Robert. He wants you close, so Lord Tywin cannot harm him. I dare not take that crutch away from him at such an hour.” Jaime’s anger had risen up in his throat. “I am not a crutch. I am a knight of the Kingsguard.” “Then guard the king,” Ser Jon Darry snapped at him. “When you donned that cloak, you promised to obey.” Rhaegar had put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “When this battle’s done I mean to call a council. Changes will be made. I meant to do it long ago, but … well, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. We shall talk when I return.”

Jaime I, AFFC

So Rhaegar wasn't leaving with no care about what happened back in King's Landing. We don't know what he wanted to do with Aerys, Elia, Lyanna, and the aftermath of the war because he died at the Trident. But we do know that he, at the very least, was planning to do something.

So we can't blame Rhaegar (and Lyanna) for starting the war and we can't blame him either for abandoning Elia in King's Landing with no care about what happens next. So, again, what can we blame him for?

“It's not entirely correct that the Martells stayed out of the war. Rhaegar had Dornish troops with him on the Trident, under the command of Prince Lewyn of the Kingsguard. However, the Dornishmen did not support him as strongly as they might have, in part because of anger at his treatment of Elia, in part because of Prince Doran's innate caution.”

SSM, 09/11/1999

GRRM states that Dorne was angry about Rhaegar's treatment of Elia. What is this treatment, though?

Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty’s laurel in Lyanna’s lap.

Eddard XV, AGOT

Specifically, Rhaegar riding past Elia to crown Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. Yes, that is a humiliation. And it's undeniable that no one was happy.

The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty, could only have been meant to win the allegiance of Winterfell to Prince Rhaegar’s cause…Yet if this were true, why did Lady Lyanna’s brothers seem so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her? Brandon Stark, the heir to Winterfell, had to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister’s honor…Eddard Stark, Brandon’s younger brother and a close friend to Lord Robert, was calmer but no more pleased.

“The Year of the False Spring”, The World of Ice and Fire

But, humiliating Elia is not the same thing as being responsible for her death. The narrative never equates these two things in any way. Elia's death is about Tywin's immoral and blood thirsty political actions. It's about Dorne's desire for justice (or is it vengeance?) which they know they will not get from the Lannister regime. House Lannister's downfall in King's Landing will be brought about by Prince Aegon's rise - Aegon who is proclaiming to be the long lost son of Prince Rhaegar, and who is being supported by House Martell as of now.

We can criticize Rhaegar for some things, but Elia's death is surely not one of them.

[wardenparker]

The King's Queen - chapter 7

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Mentions of a funeral, shitty parents/family, coping with shitty family, SO much fluff and flirting. A slightly sexy moment with someone unexpected. Summary: Javi has a gift for you on the morning of your crowning, and an idea for an even greater gift that night. But of course, an otherwise beautiful day has to be spoiled by your demanding family. Notes: The sisterhood between Daisy, Maisie, and Gabriela is everything to me 🧡

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

"Your majesty." Javi nearly sighs as someone else calls for his attention as he walks to the office. No wonder his father was sometimes abrupt when walking around the palace. He has felt like he was being pulled in several different directions, everyone offering their heartfelt condolences on losing the king. He turns to see one of the staff rushing towards him, an apologetic expression on her face.

"A message, your Majesty." The young palace page has a card on a silver tray that she holds out to the king, trembling nerves written on her face for having to actually speak directly to the new monarch. It is early in the morning and when he was the prince, King Javier did not have a reputation for being a morning person whatsoever. The only solace is that it is your brother's already familiar handwriting on the face of the card.

"Thank you, Constanza." He takes the note and flips it open to read it, smiling slightly at the strong, sharp writing and even more at the meaning of the words. The woman is still waiting, hovering at his elbow and obviously ready to take his answer back to the personal assistant to the Princess. "Sí." He nods. "Tell him yes. I will."

"Yes, your Majesty." She is off again like a shot, ready to convey the simple but seemingly all-important message, and barely manages to not collide with the king's personal assistant as he comes around a corner from the hallway. Julius has spent his morning running back and forth to make sure the king's needs will be taken care of this morning and is finally ready to report that things are on track appropriately. There had been a misunderstanding with the setup for the crowning that simply would not do. "Your Majesty," he manages to get the king's attention easily and moves toward him with purpose. "All is well. Everything will be ready in less than an hour, just as needed."

Javi nods, "We have the film crew discreetly placed?" He had only allowed the royal film crew to be present at the actual crowning in the gardens, his need for tightened security growing after news of the king's murder. The video would be streamed to all the public stations to broadcast to the country and world.

"They have been stationed where they will have three good angles, but not intrude on the ceremony in any way," Julius assures him. It will not be the grand, over-the-top event that some crownings have been, but the morning ceremony followed by an intimate reception in the garden will give the members of court a chance to meet their new Crowned Princess properly. Last night's state funeral was not an appropriate moment for such introductions.

"Good." He sighs softly, the weight of his father's funeral still bearing down on him, although it had been a beautiful state ceremony. Most of the country had turned out to pay their respects.

"For your lapel, sire." In his hand, Julius has a boutonniere just like the ones he had pinned to the previous king's formalwear many dozens of times over. The choice to have the country's national flower feature prominently in the decorations for the event today was a wise one and the small pink and white flowers of the almond tree will look beautiful against the king's black suit jacket. "And try to remember to breathe."

“I can’t make many promises.” Javi admits with a short laugh. “I have never been so worried about things going wrong in my entire life.”

"There is very little that is within your immediate control today, sire." His assistant advises him, fastening the flowers to the lapel of his suit carefully. "The princess has far more to be concerned about in terms of ceremony. As long as you can place the tiara on her head and bow, you will be just fine. The words to be spoken will be said by the archbishop and you will merely repeat them."

He knows that. It’s more that he’s nervous for you. Holding you extra close this morning and kissing you tenderly before having to let you go get ready for the moment you will become the Crowned Princess of Mallorca. “I wish for the Princess to enchant our people the way she has enchanted me.”

"I do not doubt it for a moment." Most of the palace staff is already enamored with the American princess, and those that are not are mostly stubborn about you being American or else they are loyal to the Count of Ibiza. "But for your own sanity, I have moved your meeting with the ministers to tomorrow morning." Taking his job very seriously is part of what Julius does best, and he had noted that the Senator and his wife are amongst the listed guests for the event today so he had sought to provide some small solace for the king. An afternoon with fewer commitments is no small feat.

“You are wonderful.” Javi groans quietly. “I understand our evening meal will include the Senator and his wife as well?” You had pouted slightly about that, but he had told you that if you didn’t wish to have dinner with your father, there were many ways to cancel that.

"They did arrive in time for the ceremony this morning, sí. And will therefore be present for photographs this afternoon and at dinner tonight." With the flowers pinned perfectly in place, Julius fusses momentarily with the placement of the king's pocket square before stepping back in satisfaction. "The Senator is reportedly quite pleased with his accommodation, and in a particularly good mood." This was, of course, according to Sebastian. Who would know his own father's mood better than most.

“Good.” At least the trip is starting off on the right foot. “Please make sure that the Senator is well attended to.”

"Of course, your Majesty." Julius nods, having planned on doing so anyway. "I believe..." he clears his throat quietly. "If one wished to see the princess privately before the ceremony, one might find her in the greenhouse."

“Thank you, Julius.” Javi bites his lip for a mere moment before he is turning and striding towards the doors that would take him to you. Eager to see you and calm any last moment jitters, yours and his own.

******

Pacing the greenhouse was the very best place you could think of to get away. Sebastian and Flores had been an expert team at keeping your father, stepmother, and sister busy all morning after breakfast and you had deflected by closing yourself in your suite with the dressmaker who carefully buttoned and fastened you into your ceremony dress. She assured you the myriad of fastenings would make sure the lines of the cream-colored lace tea dress stayed true in all the photography that would be necessary today, you had simply nodded your consent and stood still until she was finished. Now, as time for the ceremony rapidly approaches, you nervously pace through the fruit trees and beautiful blossoms of the palace greenhouse wishing that Javi was near.

Javi strides towards the little greenhouse, the purpose of the stone cottage changing over the years to where now it was more of a little tea house. His mother had changed it during her time as queen. He sees movement in the glass and wonders if you are pacing nervously. Walking up to the door and knocking since you were not expecting him.

The sound makes you jump, heartbeat pounding in your throat as you wonder if you’ve been caught by some member of the court — or press — or worse, if your father found you. But through the trees you see curly hair and broad shoulders at the greenhouse door and you sigh audibly. “Javi.” It doesn’t matter that no one can hear you, seeing him is a balm over your anxious soul and you move across the open room quickly to unlock the door and let him in.

"Margarita." You are stunning. The tea length dress is formal, but not too formal. The daytime coronation is one that the ladies on your staff and his own advisors thought should be less formal than some of the other monarchies' pomp and circumstance. "You look....stunning."

“Do you like it?” The dress had been agonized over, and though you love it, you are relieved to see that he does too. You are even more relieved to see him, though, and instantly sink into his embrace while being careful not to muss his suit. “You look like a dream, querido.”

"I love it, amor." He assures you with a soft smile when he pulls away. "You look like a princess, my princess."

As jittery with nerves as you are, breathing him in centers you in a way that you can’t describe. “I want to make you proud today,” you murmur, smiling reflexively when his own beaming expression washes over you. “The rest…the cameras, the guests…everyone watching? As long as you’re proud of me I know it will all be fine.”

"I am already proud of you, margarita." He promises, reaching up carefully to caress your cheek without smudging your carefully done makeup. "You were my rock yesterday when we had my father's funeral. You have been my safe harbor in the storm since your arrival."

“Thank you for letting me stand by you.” As deeply as you already feel for each other, he still might have easily decided that he wanted to stand alone at these events or that love did not immediately equate to trust — and you could not have blamed him for thinking either of those things. As it is, you’re grateful that he embraced you as a partner immediately. “And you did wonderfully yesterday.” The funeral was dignified, with a beautiful service and many meaningful tributes. Javi had stood tall for everything, always stalwart despite the crushing sadness of losing his father.

"I want to celebrate with you tonight." He's been spending a lot of time thinking about love and grief and the next steps he wishes to take. He cannot let his entire life be ruled by his job, or the loss of his father. His need to let his desires grow has been something he wants to discuss with you.

“What did you have in mind?” Thinking of something relatively simple like dessert on the balcony or taking a drive to the cliffs, you are ready to agree without hesitation.

"I—" He takes a deep breath, knowing that even if you are not ready, you will not chastise him or think badly. "I want to make love to you tonight." He admits quietly. "Celebrate that we are alive."

“I—” The lump in your throat is not nerves now but the touching sweetness of the man in front of you, and you feel the soft smile on your face blossom easily. “Mi amor, if you are ready, I am ready. I promise you.”

"I'm ready." He squeezes your waist. "If– there's no use in wondering what might have been." He decides after a moment. "We can only focus on what our future will be."

“Our future will be what we make it.” You wish you could kiss him now, but the makeup artist that came in to complete your look this morning was exacting. “Come to my room tonight like you always do, querido. We will let things happen naturally.”

"I love you." He murmurs quietly. "You are the queen I have chosen." It's important for you to know that he chooses you. That he will choose you every day.

“And I love you.” With his forehead pressed to yours, a wave of calm washes over you and allows you to smile widely. “More than I ever thought possible.”

"Then we will make sure that our people know that we share a deep love." He vows softly.

“I think that all they will need is to see how we look at each other,” you observe with quiet amusement. “My brother said that we looked like a fairy tale when he saw us before breakfast yesterday.”

"I think your brother is paid to find the positive in everything." Javi jokes. "Especially from the stories he was telling me about working with your father."

“He is an excellent person to have around when you need cheering up.” You can attest to that completely. “But he also knows me. And he knows how happy I am with you.”

"We had a talk yesterday afternoon." Javi tells you, not sure if Seb had. "It was very good."

“He didn’t mention it.” He must have decided that it was personal, or that you didn’t need your head full of extra things rattling around with the funeral that day. “But I’m glad you’re getting along.”

"It's standard practice for anyone who is coming to work on the staff to have a meeting with the king." He explains.

“I can take some of those meetings on for you after we’re married,” you offer immediately, knowing that he has more than enough to keep him busy. “To lighten your load a little.”

"I appreciate that, but I enjoyed meeting with him." He admits. "Especially since you so obviously adore him."

“He’s the second best guy in the world and whatever girl finally gets him to settle down is going to be the second luckiest woman in the world.” Second, of course, because you count yourself luckiest for having Javi.

Javi smiles, obviously getting the point behind your comment. "I will endeavor to make sure that your feelings about that never change." He promises, taking your hand and kissing the back of it gently.

“I don’t think you’ll have to work very hard.” The warmth in your cheeks that flashes through your whole body is proof enough of that, and you smile again. “How much time do we have?”

"Twenty minutes." Javi glances at the small, elegant clock that is sitting on the table. "Are you ready, my love?"

“As ready as I think I will ever be.” The crowds have been assembling in the rose garden for a half hour already, and you exhale deeply to steady yourself. “But you’ll be there with me, so I will be just fine.”

"Right beside you." He will already be wearing his own crown, but he smiles at the thought of sharing this momentous occasion with you. "I'll never let you do this alone."

“We will be each others’ rocks.” While you know that you came here to be his, it fills you with a sense of warmth and rightness to know that he wants to be yours.

"I have something for you." He gives you a small smile as he pulls a square of fabric from his pocket. "My mother–she adored the idea of you being my queen." That was an understatement, since it was because of her insistence that the contract was struck between her college friend and the crown. "She had these made for you. I–they were in father's things."

“What a—?” Your confusion dies when he presses the soft squares of linen into your hand, and you can not only see but feel what they are. Beautifully stitched with scalloped edging and subtle colors, the pastel handkerchiefs were obviously made by hand and lovingly attended to. The cream colored square has a butterfly stitched into the fabric, the mist blue has the outline of a dove, the dusty pink has the beautiful form of a stitched roses in the corner, and the golden yellow handkerchief has your initials in a monogram that includes the prominent letter ‘G’ for Gutierrez. While you immediately decide to carry the cream handkerchief today, you hold the yellow one up for Javi to inspect. “I’m going to save this one for our wedding,” you tell him with a waiver of awe in your voice. “Your mamá was planning ahead.”

"She was a woman who enjoyed planning." Javi admits with a smile. He's proud that you seem to love the handkerchief, even more so that you would carry one on your wedding day to him. It will be like having a piece of his mother there.

“The more I learn about her, the more I see how remarkable she was. Our mothers were alike in that way.”

"It is too bad that we could not have met them." He murmurs quietly. "I would have loved to see them together."

“If we are lucky maybe we will have two daughters just like them.” The smile you flash at him is broad and genuine, and you cup his cheek with one hand. “Or one little girl with both of their names, even.”

"I think that would be a good tribute to them." Javi hums dreamily, smiling at the thought of such a future. "A continuation of their legacy."

“It will be something to think about in the future.” Your thumb graces his cheek, smoothing over his warm skin. “And I am so glad to be able to plan my future with you.”

"Have they contacted Seb about the investigation?" He doesn't know if your brother would bother you with it today, but he's curious.

“Yes.” It is a lot to handle and to be coordinated, but you don’t want to put it off. It’s far too important. “I’m meeting with the investigators tomorrow after breakfast.”

Nodding seriously, Javi sighs. "I wish I could be there with you, but it would be best if we talk to the investigators separately. So it doesn't seem like we are conspiring."

“We would probably be best not to speak of it at all in private,” you admit, even though you know it will be hard. But being able to honestly say that there has been no discussion whatsoever is essential.

"You are probably right." Javi admits, squeezing your hand and sighing. "We will be cleared quickly and then we can talk."

“We’ll be just fine.” The best either of you has right now is the hope that this will all be over quickly and that the culprit will be caught. And you’re going to hang onto it like a lifeline.

“I know we will.” Of that Javier is certain, it wasn’t him, and he knows it wasn’t you.

“Chin up, mi amor.” It is becoming abundantly obvious that resisting him is not something you are good at, and you nudge your nose against his to keep yourself from kissing him and smudging your makeup. “Today, at least, will be happy.”

“Yes it will.” He hums softly. “You will be wonderful.”

“I hope so.” Glancing past him and out the windows, you can see Sebastian and Julius walking toward the greenhouse together and you sigh. “I think we are about to be summoned, mi amor.”

“The ceremony won’t be long and then the reception will be for you. A social engagement.” He smiles and nudges your nose with his. “Cocktails allowed.”

"And I will nurse those one or two cocktails longer than any other drink in my life." Being very well aware of your own tolerance, and having approved the menu for the day yourself, you know that you're not eating heavily at this event so you shouldn't drink heavily either. But then...as a royal? You'll never be drinking heavily where you can be observed ever again.

“Absolutely.” As a new king, he completely understands why you would have that outlook. “And I will be with you, and after..” he smiles. “We can have another few cocktails while we relax in our private rooms.”

"We've developed quite the routine," you hum, the softness and affection in your eyes completely obvious, thinking of those nights with Javi out on your balcony. "I like it."

“I’ve enjoyed it as well, but I was thinking…” he leans in right as there’s a discreet knock on the door. “We could use that tub tonight.”

Your eyes widen to an almost comical degree at the suggestion, and your mouth is nearly unhinged when Julius and Sebastian step into the greenhouse looking dapper and official. "Forgive the intrusion, your Majesty, but it is almost time to— your Highness, is everything alright?" Julius looks concerned immediately but Sebastian is doing very well to hide a smirk behind the older man.

“Everything is perfect, Julius.” Javi assures his assistant. “The princess was just surprised by a suggestion I had.”

I'll bet she was, Sebastian thinks as loud as humanly possible as he hands you the soft lace gloves that you will wear during the ceremony and reception today. "Flores is already standing by with pins so the tiara can be secured to your hair after the ceremony is over." He promises you.

"Thank you, Seb." Possibly the most difficult part of this whole thing is not the oath you will take or the ceremony itself, but the fact that you will have to balance that priceless tiara on your head for a full twenty minutes without it being secured in any way. Thank goodness your father was one of those people who still insisted on you learning good posture with a book on your head.

Javi smiles at the obvious affection between the two siblings in front of him. He had always wished for a sibling to share secrets and experiences with. It might be one reason why he had tolerated Lucas's presence.

“We should get the two of you into place,” Julius urges, although he has to admit that he is loath to let you at times like this. You had obviously been having an intimate moment.

“Of course.” Javi nods and squeezes your hand encouragingly. “Today we crown a Princess, one that will be beloved by her people and the world.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” You tease, even though your cheeks are warm from affection and bashful from the compliment. Squeezing Javi’s hand one more time, you put your gloves on and nod to the three men around you. “Alright. It’s showtime.”

Javi lets you walk out of the little greenhouse ahead of him, nodding to Sebastian and Julius before he follows you out into the gardens where music will be piped in through hidden speakers.

The staff had outdone themselves. The traditional gardens, with neat manicured bushes and flowering plants, look radiant with the changes they had made for the ceremony. Flowers had been trucked in from local florists. Red, yellow, blue, and white blooms, all the colors of the flag, arrange in pots that mark the path towards the center. A recreation of the flag in flowers is displayed on the raised bed, the perfect backdrop for photos when you are crowned. Even though it is daylight, the lights that are strung in the bushes, providing a festive celebration of the crown. Javi beams in pride as he walks behind you.

The string quartet that has been brought from the Royal College of Fine Arts is set in a portion of the garden and mic'd, their stunning rendition of the national anthem playing through the speakers that have been hidden amongst the bushes and decor. The rose garden looks stunning, and in the center of all are about a hundred and fifty guests surrounding the platform where the Archbishop of Palma stands beside a beautifully ornate antique Savonarola chair that you recognize from the photographs of Javi’s mother’s crowning. The Throne of the Princess of Mallorca may technically be small but its symbolism is enormous.

Javier knows how intimidating this can seem, having undergone his own coronation when he was of age in a traditional ceremony. He had been so scared he almost threw up.

The carefully curated path through the rose garden has been scattered with petals and every step you take brings perfume to the air. With Javi walking at your side – his hand holding yours up in front of the both of you and wearing a splendid suit with you in a white dress – it feels like a very deliberate rehearsal for the wedding that will follow in a few months' time. There is nothing accidental about the choice to put you in white, of course. It is the color of hope for the people of these islands, worn by kings and queens past as beacons of the future. Guides through dark times. Here, it is not brides who wear white to symbolize their purity, but leaders who wear white to symbolize their good intentions. It was why you wore that white day dress for your arrival to the country, if you are completely honest with yourself. And now, it is why you wear white before the eyes of the entire nation. To promise them that you have every intention of giving them hope, and that you have nothing but good intentions for their future.

Javier stands next to the archbishop and turns to face you, his own crown set on his head before he had walked out into the garden. Looking every bit a strong and confident king like his father had hoped for.

The longest part of this ceremony will be the archbishop’s speech. He begins with words of welcome as Javi moves slowly, gracefully, in a circle as you practiced and stops beside your throne to sit you down comfortably. Between guests and staff there are over two hundred people watching your every move in person and hundreds of thousands if not millions more on television — the sensation of needing to be sick is definitely one that Javi has warned you about but it’s stronger now than you ever thought possible.

Javier's heart pounds, both because he is nervous for you and because he's sad that his father didn't get to witness this. He knows the king would have approved of the elegance in your movements, looking like you have settled on this throne a thousand times before. His steps take him to stand beside you and he wishes he could hold your hand right now, but he cannot.

It will not be a full service of any kind, thankfully. Otherwise this ceremony would take place in one of the nation’s many churches. But the archbishop begins speaking immediately in his all-important tone, preaching to the assembled crowd and cameras as well as to you about duty, responsibility, and the importance of hope. Javi reminds himself that he’s not a child, he cannot look around in boredom. Or stare at you as the other two hundred people are doing. You are beautiful, regal. You are the Princess and future queen that his people deserve and today is the beginning of that legacy.

The guests assembled in the garden are inspecting you. You know they are. But that is part of what you are here for — to be seen and judged by the very people that you are wearing to serve. The thought had terrified you right until the second Javi stepped up to the small dais beside you, coming right back to your side. He makes the chaos of the world quiet around you. The strength of his broad frame at your side makes you feel invincible and the fact that he believes you can do this makes all the difference in the world.

The ceremony is beautiful, the words spoken by the archbishop ring out clear and true. Making Javi nod when he speaks of duty to the people. Listening to the words with a clarity and care he had never had before.

When the archbishop steps back from your other side where he had been giving his advice and instruction, he is also making room for Javi to come forward. The king, already wearing his crown, will be the one to take the selected tiara from its cushion and set it on your head. If this ceremony had happened even one week ago it would have been his father to elevate you in this way, but you will not let the moment be melancholy. This is, the way it is happening now, a monumental occasion. Javi is choosing you this morning — for himself and for his country — and you are grateful for it.

Javi lifts the tiara, holding it in his hand for a moment as he looks you in the eye. A small, subtle wink is flashed at you as he lifts the crown up to place on your head with dignity.

It has the perfect effect: making the smile on your face broad and sweet when the heavy bejeweled tiara is set into your carefully styled hair. The first moment of your life as a Crowned Princess is smiling up at the man you love, ready to take your place at his side. The flash of cameras is everywhere but you hardly notice, straightening your back and raising your head up to your full height on the small throne that is now your own. You look almost angelic, making Javier know that this moment will be the one that he wants made for you. Hoping that the sculptor will capture it. He knows it will be a moment he wants to cherish forever.

What is supposed to be a solemn moment of accepting one’s duty changes very quickly, and you swear you hear the applause begin very nearby but it crashes over the assembled guests like a great ocean wave. Instinct should always be trusted though — because when you glance to your left, Maisie is smirking in a very self-satisfied way from her seat in the front row.

"Your Royal Highness." Javier smiles at you, watching as you execute a perfect curtsey to him and he gives you a formal bow in return. Then he can take your hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“Your Majesty.” It is not customary for you to give a speech, thank goodness, because right now you’re sure you would faint or stumble or forget every word. Instead you accept the larger leatherbound volume that is being offered to you by the Archbishop — a printing of the laws and rules of Balearica that symbolizes your agreement to uphold them with honor — and you begin the long walk back to the greenhouse where Flores is waiting with hair pins and hopefully encouragement. Javi will follow you. The only time in his reign as king that he will ever walk behind another member of the court.

Your dress is beautiful and you walk with such grace that Javier beams with pride. As soon as you are around the topiaries, he is rushing forward to take your hand. “You were perfect, margarita.”

“Really? I swear I was shaking the entire time.” As much as you want to dive forward into his arms, you only reach out to squeeze his hands and stand perfectly still as Flores attacks your hair with the fist full of pins necessary to secure the tiara. You will now wear one to each and every formal occasion thrown by the palace or royal family and it’s going to take some getting used to.

“You were beaming.” He promises. “Glowing with pride for your station.”

“I am proud.” You can promise him that, just like you can promise him that you love him. They are both deeply true, but the mood is light so you can afford to joke. “And I am also proud that I managed to walk back here without the tiara falling out of place.”

“You were as regal as any princess and queen that have come before you.” He assures you, guiding you into the greenhouse. It will be just a moment before you are needed back out in the gardens, but there was time built into the schedule for a moment to breathe.

Once inside, pins in place and away from the eyes of the court, you pull Javi to you without hesitation. He is what is grounding you today, nothing else. “Te amo.” Even whispered, the words ring clear and true, and you soften under his proud gaze.

“Te amo, mi amor.” Javi wants to kiss you, but he knows that your lipstick is going to transfer. “My queen.”

“Your Majesty.” The voice behind Javi belongs to Julius, but you can tell even without looking that he is smiling. “Your Royal Highness. Very well done. You will be expected at the reception momentarily.”

“Of course.” Even as he answers Julius, he is staring at you. “We will be right out.” He assures his man. “But for now, I need a moment alone with the Princess.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” It is oddly reassuring to see the young king so enraptured by his princess, and Julius blocks Sebastian from entering the greenhouse with a firm but kind hand on his arm. “Give them a moment,” he advises with a smile.

“I have to admit that I wish that we could skip the reception.” Javi admits, leaning in and kissing your cheek, his lips grazing your ear. “I think you should wear the tiara to bed tonight.”

“Javi!” With breathless disbelief in your voice, the shiver that rolls down your spine is delicious. “I promise to choose something very easy to remove when I change after the reception.” This dress will be moved into a special closet of items worn for ‘historic’ events and probably not be taken out again for quite some time.

For the first time since his father has passed, his gaze is more lecherous than loving and he smirks. “It’s good to be the king.”

“I think it’s probably good that I can’t kiss you right now,” you murmur, surprised but not at all upset to see this side of the man you’ve fallen for. “We might not stop.”

“It is a very good thing, mi corazón.” Javi chuckles, leaning in and kissing your cheek again, letting his lips linger. “Later.”

So this is the playboy prince, you think with a grin, reflecting for just a split second how easily his charm comes when he is not burdened with grief. You saw it the first day you were here and seeing it again now is just a confirmation. And you certainly can't fault any of the women who came before you for their good taste. "I think you might be a tease, mi amor. Let's see how long you keep whispering in my ear at this reception and perhaps you will prove me correct."

“I will whisper in your ear all night.” He promises with a wink as he steps back. He’s aware that he has an obligation, as do you. Indulgences can come later.

Apparently the biggest challenge of the day just became keeping a straight face while your fiancé murmurs – possibly dirty – sweet nothings in your ear, and that sounds like exactly the kind of challenge that you are up for. You let him wrap your hand around his arm to lead you back out to the party and arrange your face into something approaching serene instead of your honest expression of eager anticipation. You are very much looking forward to tonight already.

You are never a step away from him. Javi makes sure of it as you begin to make the rounds. This is your introduction and it is only right that it be by his side. His hand settles on the small of your back as he talks, introducing you to those you have not been acquainted with while constantly looking over at you in both awe and reassurance.

There are as many members of court as there seem to be stars in the night sky, and you really are doing your best. But by the time you are able to take a deep breath and have a sip of the drink that you have been carrying so as to politely avoid any attempts at shaking hands or other embraces, the warm cup of tea has turned cold. Thankfully you could not possibly care less, because Javi is still right by your side and the moment to breathe is well appreciated.

“Do you wish for a flute of champagne? “His question is soft, noticing that your tea has gone cold. You have been wonderfully approachable, holding conversations with everyone who wished to speak with you.

"I suppose it's appropriate." He's being very doting and sweet, and you have to admit that you're basically a puddle on his arm at this point. "Since we're celebrating."

“We will have our own celebration later.” Javi reminds you, leaning in to whisper enticingly. “Perhaps we should have a bottle sent to your room?”

“We could certainly do that.” When he puts the glass in your hands it takes all the strength you have in that moment not to react to the enticing spark of his fingers caressing yours. Even for such a small touch, it takes over your entire body. “Our private little treat?”

“With some strawberries.” He hums. “Strawberries enhance the flavor of champagne.”

You have to smirk to yourself a little, because he seems to be approaching the idea of tonight very romantically, but your filthy mind had already conjured up the image of Javi drinking that champagne off of you, not from a glass. “Whatever you wish, querido.”

He catches the small smirk and the physical portion of his attraction and love for you takes over, making him twitch in his pants. “I believe we should both be satisfied, my love.”

“And I have absolutely no doubt that we both will be.” There is heat in his eyes, and probably in yours too, but this would be a very improper time for that to be shown to anyone but each other. “I have a feeling we might be speeding through dinner tonight,” you hum, amused at the thought of it.

“I’m ravenous.” Javi hums. “But not for food.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Being only the vaguest of chastisement, it’s really more about the fact that Javi had a lot more practice keeping his poker face on at very important events than you do. You have never needed to not look horny in front of a few hundred people before. Looks like you’re going to learn.

He knows that it's not proper to tease you at your first formal function so he decides to dial it back a bit. Knowing that you will be meeting a lot of important people. "Only after a lifetime, my love."

******

There really has been no peace today, and through meetings and everything else the only thing that has kept your mind clear is looking forward to seeing Javi in private again. It’s the only thing keeping you sane while you sit in formation on a set of carefully arranged chairs in the conservatory of the palace with you father, stepmother, brother, and younger sister being photographed for innumerable royal press releases.

“You there.” Your father snaps his fingers at Julius. “Make sure my office gets copies of these.” He commands, eager to have his own press release again, to remind his constituents what he brings to the table during the election cycle coming up.

“Julius doesn’t take orders from anyone besides the king, Dad.” You murmur, keeping your polite smile plastered to your face and managing an apologetic expression in the direction of your fiancé’s assistant. It isn’t strictly true, since Julius frequently takes direction from you, but he certainly does not take it from your father. “I’ll have Seb send them to your office when they’re ready.” Even though your brother is right there a few feet away, you’re not about to turn and give him orders right now.

Frowning, there’s a disapproving sound from your father, but he doesn’t protest further, getting his way is all that matters. Giving a terse nod and then turning back towards the cameras.

"When do I get my tiara, Mommy?" Though she's smiling as she's been taught to do, your younger half-sister's voice is full of a pout.

"Princesses normally receive their first tiara when they are thirteen." Javier explains quietly, looking towards you and tilting his head in question at the girl's question. "That is our custom here."

“So next year!” Michelle bounces in place, her eyes turning to her mother expectantly. She knows she’ll be scolded for moving during photographs but she wants that tiara more than she wants to sit still. “Next year I get to be a princess too?”

Gently clearing his throat, Sebastian steps forward. Figuring that he would be the one to break the news to the half sister you share. "Unfortunately, that's not how princesses happen in this country, honey." He kneels down and pats her knee. "You either have to be born a princess or marry a prince, just like the movies."

Unfortunately for everyone present, the preteen’s reaction is instant. Her chin starts to wobble and water springs to her eyes, and she turns on the pout that makes her mother cave to every single whim. Very few people ever tell her no successfully. “But…” she looks down at Sebastian and back up at her mother. “We’re supposed to share.” It’s infuriating when Michelle plays the ‘little girl’ card because she’s actually quite clever. Being clever and spoiled has made her greedy and manipulative, though, and you can’t believe you didn’t anticipate this. Of course she’s whining about wanting all the attention you’ve gotten today. God forbid the middle child get anything nice. “Sharing is important, Michelle.” You give a subtle signal to the photographer to pause for a moment and turn toward your little sister. “But there’s more to being a princess than wearing a tiara. And I know you wouldn’t want to give up spending time with your friends and riding your horse to move across an ocean and become a princess just for the tiara.”

"But...." Her eyes narrow in calculation as she weighs the need for a pretty tiara against her passions. "I could bring my horse and my friends here and still get a tiara." She decides after a moment, working out the logistics in her mind in a typical, simplistic fastion of a pre-teen.

“That still isn’t quite how it works, Chelle.” You can feel Javi and Julius and everyone else in the room watching this exchange, but the only thing it does is to show how fundamentally ignored your situation was while growing up. Michelle has known for her entire life that one day you would leave the US and marry a prince. But still no one thought to explain it thoroughly. All she’s ever known is that one day everything of yours would be hers — so it makes perfect sense that she assumes that will include your title and new life.

“I hate this!” She literally stomps her foot and crosses her arms. “I want to be a princess!”

“I think that’s enough photographs for now.” Julius murmurs to the press, not wanting notebooks or recorders to come out.

Your father, sensing that this would be a bad look for the American family of the future queen, leans over and whispers in Michelle's ear for a moment. As if by magic, her face clears and she uncrosses her arms.

“Her Royal Highness and her father will be available for more photographs in the library in ten minutes.” Ushering the press from the room, Julius gives you a barely perceptible nod.

"Surely something can be done." Your stepmother offers Javi a politician's smile, just as concerned with optics as her husband, but her own daughter. "There must be some formal title for members of the family."

“That isn’t how it works.” With the press cleared from the room, you watch Julius shut the door behind himself before turning back to your stepmother and half-sister with as much patience as you can muster. “Dad’s title is Senator. Yours is Señora. Michelle is Señorita Michelle. That’s as formal as it gets unless you plan on becoming Balaerican citizens and earning a noble title through good work for the people of this country.” The fact that they barged in and started demanding special treatment like ugly Americans isn’t even what surprises you. What surprises you is that now they’re encouraging Michelle to do it, too.

"I think we are a little bit more than normal family." She tells you, keeping her polite smile as she cuts her eyes to her husband.

"Dear, I don't think that it is what we should be discussing right now." Your father decides that tact would be the better part of valor right now. "She is not married yet, she can only suggest change at this point. Wait until she is the queen. It will be far more useful then."

“Excuse me?” When the only people in the room besides your family are Javi and two footmen, you are much less self-conscious about raising your voice to your father than you might have been otherwise. The idea that you will be useful to them in any way is atrocious and you stand from the sofa immediately. “Please tell me that I misheard you just now.”

Your father frowns at you, surprised that you have any complaint about what he said. "What do you mean?" He demands. "What was there to mishear?"

“I am hoping that I didn’t just hear you say that you intend to abuse my position as queen for personal gain.” You aren’t stupid. There’s no way you think that this arrangement — your betrothal — wasn’t agreed to for the prestige. You aren’t blind enough to think your father hasn’t been drafting press releases and planning to work his way into something diplomatic by riding your coattails. But you honestly hadn’t gone so far as to think that they would expect you to perform political favors. So maybe you’re a little stupid after all. Or at least overly idealistic.

"Has my time in Washington taught you nothing?" He asks, shaking his head in disappointment. "It's about connections and I happen to have a connection to the throne." He scoffs. "I would be a fool to not expect to be able to speak to the movers and shakers here."

“Speak? Sure.” You can feel your eyes roll back so far in your head that they threaten to go a full three hundred and sixty degrees. “But you don’t get to waltz in and give orders to Javi’s staff and presume on noble titles just because we’re related. That isn’t how this works.”

While he senses that you are not going to be open to dialogue right now, your father decides that it is best to pull back on the conversation. "Of course not." He shakes his head. "It was tactless and presumptuous of them." He motions towards your stepmother and half-sister. "Excitement."

“Does that apology go for you, too?” Considering he was the one who started snapping at Julius like a misbehaving dog, your exasperation is very real at this point.

He tilts his head in contemplation as he wonders why you are pushing back against him. He opens his mouth to ask that question but instead offers a 'sincere' smile. "Of course it does, pumpkin." He offers. "I apologize. Thoughtless because of the jetlag."

That smile is practiced. It is perfectly executed and usually reserved for people he considers — privately — deeply beneath him. The fact that he’s using it on you is unsettling to say the least. “We have pictures to take in the library.” Is what you say instead, before turning to Javi and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I know you have a meeting, mi amor. I promise we will all behave ourselves until dinner.”

Javier can see the worry and upset in your eyes and he wishes to pull you away to talk to you. Right now is not the time and he makes a note to tell Julius to have Sebastian to check on you and let him know how you really are. "Of course, mi amor."

“I will see you for dinner.” A quick squeeze of his hand and you are turning back to your family with a serious expression fixed back on your face. “Sebby, I think our stepmother and sister would like to see the palace grounds before dinner, don’t you?”

"Would you like to see the royal stables?" He asks Michelle, knowing that will peak her interests. "I'm sure that we could arrange some riding while you are here."

When your bonafide horse girl little sister shrieks with joy at that suggestion, you know that at least things will be okay on that front. Your brother leads them away to change into riding gear and head down to the stables, and you nod to your father. “The library is this way.”

"It seems that our decision was good for you." He offers as he extends his arm for you to take. "The King seems to be very warm to your presence and you to him."

There is a moment of reluctance, of hesitation before you take your father’s arm, but eventually you decide to have less fuss and accept the gesture to walk along the hall. “It turns out that Javi and I have a lot in common.” Not because of the endless poking and prodding to make sure you watched the movies and read the books that the prince liked. Not because of that. But because of who you are fundamentally as people.

"Then we have done well." He hums, extremely pleased. A happy king is an accommodating one and he can see this as being very lucrative to his career. Perhaps he will become an Ambassador here. It would be fortuitous and sometimes ambassadors have more discretion to make policies than senators at times.

That isn’t necessarily how you would put it, since one of the things you have in common with Javi is demanding fathers who didn’t really take the time to get to know you. So for now you just hum and politely nod to the few people who stop to pay their respects to you in the hallway as you walk. “It could just as easily have gone badly,” you remind him quietly.

"Except that it hasn't." He doesn't like that you are focusing on the what could have beens instead of the what ares. You have a tendency to do that. He does like the measure of respect that you are being shown, and in turn, he is being shown.

“Through no measure of coercion, or play acting, or ulterior motives.” Up ahead, the door to the library is already open and the press are waiting inside. “I love him. It’s as simple as that.”

He's not quite sure how you have come to love a man you have only met a few days before but he pats your hand and gives you a beaming smile that is sure to be captured by the press. "I am glad. It's all I want for you."

It isn’t. You both know it isn’t. But it’s a lie that you are comfortable living with for the time being. Instead of instigating a conversation about anything of the sort, you hold your head high and glide into the library to the best of your ability.

If there is anything paternal about the man who has created you, it’s this moment that it shines. His smile turns almost genuine as he courts the press and makes a show of settling you into the chair Julius has set up for you. Photographs will be taken of you sitting in a lush rose-colored upholstered chair with deep wood tones to offset the damask fabric. Still in your tiara and crowning dress, you sit in front of your standing father with your ankles neatly together and his hand elegantly – so he says – held to his midsection. Perfectly posed, it's obvious that you have both taken countless photographs before. The difference is that this is the first time that your father has ever been the one in the secondary role.

Once the countless photos are taken, the Senator expects a few candid shots from the press and helps you up with the same manners as when you entered the room. Enjoying the way the staff and the journalists bow or curtsey, pretending it’s for him.

“I have a few things to do before dinner.” As soon as you’re out of the room and Julius has reappeared beside you, you carefully extract your hand from your father’s arm and smooth out your dress. “If you’d like to go down to the stables I’m sure Julius can arrange for a car,” you offer. It’s not even that you have things to do — it’s that you need some time to breathe.

“Of course.” He knows when he’s being dismissed and while he doesn’t like it, there’s not a whole lot he can do about it. “Looking forward to a family dinner together.” He promises.

"We'll meet you in the drawing room before dinner for an aperitif," you tell him, trying to sound nonchalant about a thing that you are actually not looking forward to at all. Standing around having a drink with your family sounds agonizing. "Seb knows the way. He'll go down with you."

"Well then...." It's quite a change of pace to be the one dismissed, to be left for others to have more important issues to attend to. Slightly disconcerting for him but your father nods and moves towards the doorway. "Perhaps a footman can show me to the stables?"

“I’m sure Rafael would be able to show you the way.” The nearest footman is one who has been assigned to see to your needs specifically so you don’t feel odd about asking him out of all of the other staff present. Still getting the bearing of things around the palace, you’re at least able to learn your own staff quickly.

“Of course.” Your father doesn’t even think to bow to you, just nods his head and turns to walk towards the footmen as they stand near the door.

The careful, pointed way that Julius clears his throat in your father's direction is about as polite and subtle as he can manage, but the palace staff all know what it means. No one moves, although they should step aside to open the door for your father right away. They would have – if only he had shown you the proper respect. And if only Julius hadn't quietly pointed it out.

Your father stops, realizing what is required of him and turns back around. “It’s hard to remember that my daughter, my little girl, requires a bow.” He jokes, even as he bristles at the faux pas. He offers a stiff, formal bow before he straightens back upright.

"I'll see you at dinner." It shouldn't be as satisfying as it is that he has to be formal with you, but after an entire lifetime of being bossed around it does make your shoulders feel a little more square and your chin tilt a little higher.

"This way, Senator." Rafael opens the door and waves your father through right away.

As soon as your father exits the library, your ladies in waiting file in, ready to accompany you.

“I’d like to change,” you murmur to Maisie and Gabriela as soon as they’re at your side, wanting to be anywhere but under the public eye at the moment. Things with your father feel weird – shaky in a way – and you don’t like that one bit.

“Of course.” Gabriela nods and immediately takes your arm. “Are you excited by having your family here? They all looked so proud during the coronation.”

“My family is complicated, as I’m sure you can understand.” The offer of her arm is a comfort, though, and you take it readily. “I’m glad their visit will only be a few days. It makes it easier to make sure they enjoy it.” And easier to make sure nothing goes wrong…

"Of course." She understands, more than anyone else, what it means to keep the peace. Even if it means sacrificing your own comfort for some time. In her case, it's all the time. Especially in the past year.

“Did you two enjoy the reception?” There was barely time to say hello to them afterward, with the number of acquaintances there were for you to make in your first hours as Crowned Princess, but you had seen them laughing and eating with friends in the garden.

"I—" Gabriela bites her lip. "It was very nice to socialize." She admits. "Thank you for selecting me again to be one of your ladies." Often Lucas would dominate the conversations or steer her away from most people. It was a nice change to be the more important of the two.

“I’m grateful you agreed.” You tell her honestly, before looking over at Maisie. “Both of you.”

"What else do we have to do?" Maisie teases as she leads the pair of you towards the door, nodding as the footman rushes to open it.

“There’s plenty to do these days.” With wedding and the joint coronation — when Javi is formally crowned king and you become queen — is the sole focus of your work these days.

"Only as your ladies-in-waiting." She chirps as the three of you march down the hall towards your suite.

“There should be something in the planning soon for each of you to enjoy.” As much as you know that they are here to help you, you also don’t want them to dread the time you spend together. There should be things to look forward to that aren’t about you at all.

Gabriela hums and leans in. "It will be very busy right up until your tour of the kingdom." She reminds you quietly. "You just need to decide who you would like to have accompany you on the tour, since it is technically your honeymoon." The jealousy that she had been expecting wasn't there, just worry about being left behind.

“Should that not be up to the two of you?” Honestly you’re not sure at all what the protocol is, so you’re really asking.

"As queen, it is your decision who accompanies you on the tour." Maisie reminds you, her eyes on Gabriela. Wondering if the Countess is trying to get out of going or throwing her hat in the ring.

“I have a feeling I’m going to miss the days when I could get out of making decisions,” you murmur good naturedly as the three of you turn into your suite. Privacy is such a luxury today that you sigh. “I would be delighted to have either of you come,” you tell both ladies. “But if one of you would rather not, for any reason, I fully respect that.”

There's a pause before Gabriela speaks again. "I–I understand that my presence might make your trip.....uncomfortable." She admits. It would be awkward to have the woman that Javi once wished to marry on the honeymoon with the new wife. "Perhaps it should be Maisie."

“If it would make you uncomfortable, that is one thing.” Alone with them, you turn and take both of Gabriela’s hands. “As far as I’m concerned, you are a very kind friend who is about to be family. If I had thought this would be uncomfortable for you or Javi, I would never have asked you to be my lady in waiting in the first place.”

It's almost embarrassing how she tears up. Biting her lip and trying to keep her chin from trembling. You have been so kind to her, despite you having every reason to despise her. Closing her eyes, she nods. "I–I would like to go. As your lady."

“Is that alright with you, Maisie?” You have a feeling that she might feel about it like you do — that getting Gabriela away from regular life for a little bit will be a good thing. That giving her something new in life, and showing her actual appreciation? It’s more than just a little necessary.

“I think that it will be perfect.” Maisie agrees quickly. “Gabriela is a much better historian than I.”

"But I want you both to come to Monaco." There will be no ifs, ands, or buts about it. These are the two closest friends you have in the world besides your brother, and Seb will be there right alongside the three of you. "Before the wedding."

"Of course." Maisie agrees, shooting a grin at you before she starts to walk towards your closet. "We wouldn't miss it. What outfit would you like to wear?" She asks as she disappears into the closet.

“It’s a formal dinner, but something…less fussy would be good.” All you can think is that it’s going to be the thing that Javi takes off of you tonight, and you follow Maisie in with a slightly lopsided smile.

"Something.....playful." Maisie decides, looking back at you. "After the extremely formal events, I find it quite refreshing to wear something fun. Perhaps one of your own outfits you brought?"

“There is a burgundy dress in here somewhere…” You start looking around, trying to figure out where some of your American dresses were hung. “High collar, sleeveless, and ankle length. But it flows beautifully.” And the neckline is also tied up with a string at the base of your throat, something you feel positively tingly thinking about Javi untying.

"Burgundy is a strong color to wear." She muses, moving over to the section of the closet where your clothes have been neatly arranged as Gabriela comes in to sit down on the small settee. "So have you and Javi....you know, yet?" Maisie asks, her head stuck in the closet, pushing clothes out of the way.

“Maisie!” If she had asked the question five seconds ago instead of right when Gabriela walked up beside you, you would be far less embarrassed. Now you feel like your face is on fire. “No! N-no—I mean—his father just died!”

"You should." The former love interest of the now king smiles. Sitting down beside you and patting your hand. "Javier is physical, he needs touch." She bites her lip, knowing that it was very improper of her to talk about those things, but there is an openness between you. "He is honestly the best lover I've ever had. I know he will please you."

“It’s not—I mean—we’ve slept together,” you clarify, feeling awkward yourself after promising up and down that having Gabriela here isn’t awkward at all. You just don’t want to hurt her with how fucking deeply in love with Javi you’ve fallen so fast. “But actually sleeping.”

"That sounds romantic." It's bittersweet, a pang that she doesn't have that with Javi, would never have it again, but it was a star crossed love. It could never be real. "I hope that it has brought you closer together."

“It has.” It was unexpected, the way things have progressed, but not in any way unwelcome. In fact, you welcome tonight with open arms.

She smiles, truly happy that her former love has found happiness. it was all she had ever wished for him, even if she has not found it herself. "Then you should not waste a moment, an opportunity to make sure that he knows how you feel."

“We…” Looking between both women, you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “We…talked about…tonight…”

"Ohhhhh." Maisie's smirk grows wide and even Gabriela grins. "Now we need to talk lingerie." She decides and the other woman pulls you to your feet to drag you over towards the built- in drawers.

“I—I don’t own any lingerie,” you protest immediately, though they seem to be sure of where to take you. “Just regular things…not showy things.”

Gabriela bites her lip, aware that it would be too improper to offer you some of her own. Especially considering the circumstances. "I have some." Maisie offers with a grin. "And we will have the modesite come to measure you for some custom pieces."

“Is that…a normal thing to do?” Partially you mean to ask if it would be normal for a clothier to make lingerie specifically for a princess, but you’re also asking about relationships in general. You may have had boyfriends before — and done plenty of messing around with them — but the reality of still technically being a virgin is beginning to weigh on you as you think about tonight. The last thing you want to do is disappoint Javi.

If the question catches either woman off guard, they don’t show it. “Sometimes. It’s something fun and sexy. Especially under formal dresses.” Maisie answers with a grin.

“I take it it’s something your husband enjoys?” Since Maisie has only ever spoken well of her husband, you’re willing to bet those small, sexy surprises are a positive thing for them. A happy thing.

“A present he gets to unwrap.” She assures you with a naughty smirk. “I wear something sexy when I want attention, or to surprise him. Or just to feel pretty.”

"I've never..." Wrapping your arms around your waist, you debate telling them. Your whole truth is such an odd one and you don't know at all how they would react to it, so you swallow the thought for now and try again. "I've never been with someone long enough...to, you know...surprise them like that."

“Oh.” Maisie glances over at Gabriela and nods. “Nothing to worry about.” She promises you. “But it means virginal might drive Javi insane.”

"Is it..." They apparently knew exactly what you meant, and you feel yourself getting a little more self-conscious in the moment. "Something that...he likes? I guess I was always under the impression that men...preferred experience? Not that I'm inexperienced of course, it's just...it's that specific..." Nerves make you ramble, but you catch yourself and swallow a groan before dropping your face into your hands. "May I be honest with both of you? Or would you prefer I keep this to myself?"

“Please, share anything you wish.” Gabriela reaches out for your hand to pull it away from your face. “We are here for you and I wish to repay your kindness, your friendship, any way I can.

"The thing is..." With a sigh, you sit back on the pouf set in amongst the shelves and racks in your closet and look up at the two women who have agreed to help you through this transition. To be your friends. Arranged friends just like your arranged marriage. "I've known that I was going to marry Javi since I was young. Practically my entire life. Our mothers...it was all arranged by our parents, and I wasn't really allowed to have serious boyfriends growing up because I knew I was going to marry this faraway prince. So it's not that I'm completely inexperienced, but...this?" You curl your arms around yourself and shrug helplessly. "I have very literally been waiting for him my whole life. And it's just starting to hit me that the waiting is completely over."

“Oh, Daisy,” Gabriela softens even more and reaches for your other hand while Maisie holds the other. “I know you have to be excited, nervous. If Javier knows, he will be very considerate, even more than he always is.” She smiles. “I cannot think of a more perfect man to experience intimacy with for the first time.”

“He knows.” You nod once, squeezing Gabriela’s hand. “But he…he didn’t know about me until just before I arrived. I need you to know that, Gabriela. My parents prepared me for this for my entire life, but Javi had no idea that everything had already been arranged.” It makes it rather sweet, how quickly you have fallen for each other, but it’s important that Gabriela know that Javi had never lied to her. That he hadn’t kept this large secret while he was with her.

“I had been told.” Gabriela reveals quietly. “By King Miguel when he told me that he was rejecting Javier’s request to propose to me.” She squeezes your hand back. “The king ordered me to not tell his son. That it would be told to him at the proper time, but he wanted me to know that he was not denying him because he thought I would not be a good Princess, a good wife, for Javier. He and his wife had just decided on someone else long ago.”

“Please know that I truly do love him.” It is desperately important to you in this moment that you are honest with her, hoping to be able to put some of this awkward worry between you to rest. To be able to move forward as true friends. “I never expected it to happen so quickly, but it has been undeniable.”

“That is all I would hope for.” The former flame of the king assures you quickly. “You do not wish to be in a loveless marriage.”

Unfortunately, the implication is all too clear, and you pull yourself off the pouf to envelope her in a tight hug. “You are a kind soul, Gabriela,” you murmur after a moment. “And I hope you know I am grateful for your friendship.”

"As I am for yours." You have no clue how grateful she is. How indebted she is to you for the kindness and sensitivity you have shown, when she could not have expected it with anyone else. Especially since you seem to not care for her husband. Something else the two of you share.

“And yours, dear Maisie.” She cannot be left out of this for a single moment, especially as she has been your true and constant ally since almost the moment you met.

"We will all be one big, happy sisterhood." Maisie insists. "Now. Do you want to come to my room or should I run to go get those things for you to see and try on?"

“Do you have anything that would match the dress?” Gabriela prompts, finding herself on slightly surer footing now. With you, at least, she feels a bit freer.

"I have some black things that would go nicely, but there is...." She snaps her fingers. "I have a pale pink set that would go beautifully under the maroon dress. It's innocent and sexy all at the same time." She smirks. "Even better? I've never worn it for my husband."

“And you wouldn’t mind?” Sharing lingerie is very much a new experience for you, and you chew your lip with nerves. “I’ll replace it for you, I promise.”

"No, I insist, it's a gift." She winks at you playfully. "My contribution to the happiness of the monarchy." She holds up a finger. "Give me two minutes and I'll be right back with them."

“I’m nervous,” you admit with a sigh as Maisie goes bounding from the room. You only thing you can think to do is focus on dressing and you turn to the wall of shoes in your closet.

"Did–" Gabriela pauses delicately. "Is there anything I can share with you?" She asks softly. "Or questions to be answered?" While she's sure you know the mechanics of sex, it would be hard to be an adult in this age and not, maybe there are some questions that having a woman who is experienced would be able to be answered for you. She can't imagine you are terribly close with your stepmother.

“I’m inclined to ask if there is anything Javi particularly dislikes, but that might be too invasive of a question.” You bury your face in your hands again and sigh. “Please don’t feel the need to answer that. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“I know this is awkward.” Gabriela laughs quietly, embarrassed herself but she’s not going to let it stop her from making sure that you know what you need to. “Javi is a very giving lover, so he neglects things he wants.” She admits. “He loves being kissed and touched. Showing that you want him.”

“That…” A nervous giggle escapes you. “Will not be a problem. I can promise that entirely.”

She bites her lip and decides to be more bold. “There is something you can do, it’s – it is with your tongue.” She huffs, unable to come up with the words and takes your hand. “Let me show you.” She decides and pops your index finger in her mouth.

“Gabri—” Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you feel the swirl of her tongue, a wondrously uninhibited feeling for a person such as yourself who tries to maintain control of herself at all times. “I—” You stammer again, swallowing thickly. “I–I see why that would have been difficult for you to describe…”

"Yes it would have." Gabriela giggles in embarrassment as she pulls your finger out of her mouth and immediately produces a handkerchief to start cleaning your finger off.

“I will…bear that in mind.” It will surely give away that you have talked with Gabriela about him, but you aren’t so sure that that is a bad thing. After all, is she not the one who knows him best?

"You don't have to use it, I am sure that Javier wants you just as you are." She assures you. "Your closeness and your...." she searches for the word. "Groove together will come naturally."

“I don’t think anyone has ever implied I had a groove before.” You can’t help but giggle about it a little, feeling a little more relaxed for it. The wall of shoes in front of you is what should be holding your attention before you run out of time to appear out together, so you loop your arm through Gabriela’s and turn both of you toward the collection. “I’m very glad you’re here, Gabriela.”

"I am glad I am here too." She tells you, meaning every word of it. "What about the silver stilettos?" She asks, tilting her head as she looks at them. "Or, we can wait to see what color pink the lingerie is and see if we can match it. An homage to what is underneath the dress."

“For the first time it seems practical to have multiple pairs of pink shoes,” you joke, lending her a smile. “But if none of them match, the silver will be lovely.”

"I've got them!" Maisie crows as she sails back into the dressing room with a bag. "I thought this would be more discreet." She admits, holding it up for them to see.

“Yes. Much.” The bag is marked with the logo of a posh spa in the city that you had read about before. Anyone curious enough to look would assume that Maisie was bringing you lotion or some equally innocuous bath products.

"Strip down." She orders you with a grin. "We have to get you all sexed up tonight!"

“Absolutely the first time in my life anyone has said that to me.” With a burning face, you nab the bag from Maisie’s hand and duck behind the nearby dressing screen to change.

"Let me know if you need a hand!" She calls out, sitting down behind Gabriela. "How are you, honey?" She asks her quietly, knowing that she might have reservations about everything that she doesn't want to express to you.

“Okay.” She forces herself to smile, folding her hands in her lap as they sit together on the overly large pouf. “Better than you might think. It is…” She sighs softly. “It is a relief to know that he is loved.”

"You are a fantastic woman, Gabriela." She murmured softly, reaching out and covering her hands with her own. "A true lady."

“I hope so,” she whispers back, grateful for the quiet moment. There are so many things which have turned out so differently than she expected. If she has retained even an ounce of her own kindness, she will be relieved.

"I know so." Maisie, squeezes her hands again and then leans in. "If you ever need anything, I hope you know you can trust me." She offers. "I feel as if we will be wonderful friends going forward."

“Thank you,” Gabriel murmurs, breathing out a shaky breath as you step out from behind the dressing screen.

"Ohhhhhh." Maisie turns to you, immediately giggling. "You are going to knock the king on his ass tonight when he gets a load of this outfit on you. You look stunning."

“We seem to be the same size.” The pieces underneath your dress fit perfectly, which you admit is a bit surprising but right now you’re grateful for it. “Do you really—is it—do I look okay? Really?”

"What do you think?" Gabriela stands and guides you over to the mirror to let you look at yourself. "You look gorgeous. Sexy."

“I feel…outside myself,” you admit quietly. The dress is beautiful. It always has been. But knowing what is on underneath it makes you feel like you have the slyest secret of your life. “I just hope he likes it.”

"He will love it." That she can assure you. "Now, we can choose your shoes and change your makeup to something a little less sweet and more sexy."

The makeover is so quick that it feels like a movie montage, and in a mere half hour you’re restyled to be ready for dinner — and for Javi tonight.

******

Javi is nervous. He knows that you don’t have experience and he wants to make this good for you. “Julius, have a bottle of champagne and a platter of strawberries put in the princess’s room tonight after dinner please.”

“Of course, sir.” Julius doesn’t make a habit of asking questions, but it is a romantic gesture and the king seems nervous this evening as they wrap up his work before dinner time. “Is there anything else you will need tonight?”

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “No one is to disturb the Princess and I once dinner is over unless war breaks out or the palace is on fire.” He declares. Everything else could wait for morning.

“Shall I post an extra guard?” Though he isn’t entirely sure what the king has planned, Julius can certainly ensure security if necessary.

“No, no extra guards.” The last thing he wants is for you to be embarrassed if someone hears something. “No guards by the doors. Have them at the end of the hall.”

“As your Majesty wishes.” He does find that to be a bit of a clue and smiles.

He knows the man isn’t stupid, he understands and Javi waves his hand. “Anything I’m missing?” He asks him seriously. “Candles? Flowers?”

“Do you know her favorite flower?” Julius asks, wondering if it is the sort of thing to have come up in conversation yet. If not, Flores will know. “That is always a nice touch.”

“Daisies.” He smiles softly. “She loves daisies.”

“I will have some arrangements sent to her suite while you are at dinner,” he promises. “Perhaps with roses for embellishment?”

“Perfect.” Javier smiles as he imagines your reaction. “And the candles. Just candlelight.”

“Yes. I will see to it now.” Julius slides from the room with a bow, off to collect the first footman he finds to begin preparations for the king’s evening. Paperwork can wait. The palace — even part of it — will have happiness again tonight.

Javier finishes up the last of the signatures needed and stands, sighing slightly. Hoping that your parents will behave better than they had before, hating that you had seemed so upset. He straightens his suit coat before he begins to walk towards the dining room.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

TKQ: @storiesofthefandomlovers @mimimarvelingmarvel @patti7dc

My Masterlist!

[iamsonormalaboutninjago]

Making this a full post cause it deserves to be said:

TL:DR at bottom

A lot of the tumblr community is pro queer and progressive but why are they so violently against redemptions???

Seriously I’ve noticed a mind boggling amount of people who are dying on the hill that Harumi should rot in prison.

Do they even watch the same show?? Why are they dividing people into “evil” and “good” categories like that??? Ninjago has shown multiple times that people are complex and multi dimensional.

Flintlocke was just following the captain that he loved so much and trusted like a brother, Morro was consumed by a desperation to prove himself, Cyrus Borg hid the overlord virus from everyone, the dragon hunters were just scared by Iron Barons rule, The Ice Emperor was manipulated by Vex, Unagami was confused and angry by his abandonment, the Keepers were just doing their job, Ronin was trying to pay back his debt (and maybe support his family), Pythor used to be a power hungry jerk but being trapped in the tomb made him realize it meant nothing being a king or getting revenge, Garmadon before resurrection loved his son very dearly but was consumed by urges to destroy and infect others with his curse. And most importantly…

Lloyd was a spoiled brat child who wanted to hurt people and cause mayhem until Wu finally caught him. Yes he wasn’t a terrorist and was a kid but so was Harumi when she turned. They were the same age, around 10, when they were affected by the serpentine.

As well. All of the Harumi fans I know want Harumi to get a proper redemption. One where they pay for their crimes and feel horrible about what they’ve done. Where they’re forced to live in the real world and not some delusion that they created when they were young and angry. I want Harumi to cry and feel like shit for murder and terrorism. I really would hate if Roots was the end of her story and her redemption! She’s gotta show that she’s changed and is a different person in order to be fully redeemed in my eyes. I like a lot of others just want her to have a chance at redemption, not accept her as being redeemed immediately.

TL:DR: Ninjago has a plethora of people who start out evil but change and redeem themselves. So why is Harumi singled out? I believe Harumi hasn’t redeemed herself canonically yet and has to go through a lot of pain and growth before that can happen. But If anyone thinks that Harumi doesn’t deserve redemption then neither does Lloyd or Scales or Faith or Morro or Garmadon.

We can’t forget that in the could be canon Splinter in the Blind Man’s Eye story Lloyd claims that Morro gave him the most trauma, because he committed atrocities in his own body. He never even says he has nightmares about Harumi!! Which he has a lot of damn nightmares!

Lloyd was brought to the good side because Wu gave him a chance and believed that he was good, and Lloyd did the exact same to Harumi. “The best way to defeat your enemy, is to make them your friend”…

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 5

>> Donnie explains his convoluted, drama-filled family tree.

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

April gasps. “No way! But… how?” 

She pauses for a split second before her hand shoots out to grasp his arm, shaking it. “Are you a prince?”

For a moment Donnie’s eyes are transfixed on her hand, her dainty little fingers barely covering a quarter of his gauntlet. 

She’s touched him several times today. First when she rapt her knuckles on his armored plastron, then when she gently tapped his cheek as they hid from their enemy, and now when she reached to hold his arm. Each time caused his breath to hitch in his throat. 

“Donatello?”

Donnie’s gaze jolts back up to hers, and a blush covers his cheeks as he clears his throat. “Ahem! No, I am not a prince. There are only two: Prince Raph and Prince Mikey.”

The princess tilts her head. “But… then–”

“Leo and I are half-brothers to Raph and Mikey. It’s, ah, complicated.” He rubs the back of his head before resting his large hand over hers, completely covering it.

Her hands are so small compared to his.

He shakes his head—he needs to stay focused. This is a serious topic, and she deserves the complete, unobstructed truth.

And he can’t keep getting distracted by… her.

He takes in a deep breath and looks up at her face. “Do you recall learning about The Crisis of Queens in your history lessons?”

April hums, “Yeah, vaguely. I always thought the name was silly, as it only involved your Queen, right?”

“Correct. Do you remember anything about it?”

“Well, I was about two at the time. Your Queen unexpectedly and tragically died, and your kingdom swore my kingdom was responsible for her death. Our two kingdoms almost went to war, but then your King suddenly called it off, and we were never given a proper explanation.” The princess looks at the knight’s face, eyebrows furrowing. “What really happened?”

Donnie takes a deep breath and cuts right to the chase. “Our queen was murdered in cold blood by one of our kingdom’s most trusted advisors.”

April’s free hand flies to her mouth as she gasps, “No! Really?”

“Yes, really. To properly explain this story, I’ll need to start with the yokai behind it all. Baron Draxum,” Donnie sneers, “He was once one of our kingdom’s most trusted advisors. The yokai was an expert on all things military, from our kingdom’s defenses to army recruitment and training. He also led all the scientific endeavors, as his knowledge in biology and engineering was unmatched. But… he disagreed with our King and Queen’s decision to pursue peace.”

“But… why?” April asks, exasperation heavy in her voice.

Donnie completely understood her confusion. Quite frankly, he didn’t understand Draxum’s decision-making process either. 

“He was not satisfied with what we had within our territory. He wanted to reclaim the isle we had lost in a war to your kingdom nearly a century ago, among other bloodthirsty conquests. The King and Queen of Terrapathia disagreed, arguing that the tentative peace was worth more than any piece of land gained.” Donnie looked around them, double-checking for any threats.

“He sounds like a miserable man, er, yokai to be with.” April comments. 

The purple-clad knight chuckles. “I’m told he was. But he gets worse. Since the King and Queen refused his requests for military conquest, he devised a plan to steal the throne. With a few other traitors, he killed the Queen and kidnapped the King. He would have killed the young Prince Raph and Mikey, but through some ‘divine intervention’ they were not in their bedrooms that night.”

“Oh, that’s awful!” The princess’s voice quivers. “The poor young princes! But why didn’t he kill the King?”

“Simple. His genetics.” There’s a pause, and Donnie realizes he needs to explain himself a bit more. “Erm, my father, the King, was once one of the best, most well-respected warriors in the kingdom. His ninjitsu and weapon mastery were simply unmatched. To kill the King would have ended all of Draxum’s plans.”

“Well, that sorta makes sense,” April admits, though she didn’t seem convinced, “But why would the King fight for him? And how do you and Leo fit into all of this.”

“Baron Draxum was one of the best biologists in the kingdom. And if he couldn’t get the King to agree to his bloody conquests, then he planned to usurp the throne by creating his own princes and army.” The princess gasps, but Donnie continues. “He injected my father’s mystic essence into two freshly hatched wild turtles—myself and Leo.”

“You were Baron Draxum’s princes?” April asks quietly, as if she’s nervous someone might overhear.

Donnie nods. “Yes. He thought we could easily replace them since we were all turtles. But, all of Baron Draxum’s plans were short-lived. The King’s Guard quickly found Draxum’s secret lab, and he perished in the fight that followed.” Donnie makes a slicing motion over his throat in emphasis. “While the royal guard wanted to destroy everything tied to Draxum, including his lab, a few books and pieces of equipment were saved. My twin and I were also spared—the King could not bear the thought of killing two babies who didn’t ask to be usurper princes or bloodthirsty monsters. So he kept us.” 

The knight places his hand on his chest. “My brother and I were raised by a lovely couple in the royal staff. They couldn’t have children of their own and were very eager to raise us. The King arranged for us to visit him and our older brothers as frequently as he could get away with it.”

“That’s… incredibly kind of him,” April says, her eyes cast toward the ground. 

Donnie leans his face down, brow furrowing. “Is… something wrong?”

He bites his lip—he knew telling her the story would be risky. But… he also isn’t sure what upset her.

“I… It’s just… your family—even if you are only partially related to them—sound just so nice and kind.” April’s voice wavers.

Despite the fading light, Donnie thinks he sees her eyes watering with tears.

The knight bites his lip harder, and the slight tang of blood hits his tongue.

He expected a fair number of reactions to his convoluted tale. Anger was one of the emotions he anticipated, along with shock and concern.

Sorrow? Donnie made no preparations for it. 

“I-uh, yes?” Donnie starts, leaning over and awkwardly patting the arms of his ward. “Raph, Mikey, and my father are kind, and they’ll treat you well! I promise.”

“I know! I know…” The princess starts sobbing, her face falling into her hands as she collapses against her knight’s chest. 

Donnie hesitates, but soon his arms wrap around April, his hands awkwardly patting her back as his armor clinks. He has no idea how his story caused this.

Donnie... >> Asks April what’s wrong.

[coefore]

In your transformers lion king au, how does Optimus die? Was he betrayed by Zeta?

Ah yes, he was the victim of a setup, much like in the original TLK movie: Zeta used Rodimus to lure Optimus into a trap (I hadn't thought of the specifics, sorry!) and got him murdered.

Zeta and Optimus aren't brothers, anyway, but mechs are deemed worthy of holding the Matrix until the Matrix chooses who deserves it! Zeta was supposed to be the next in line, then Optimus was chosen, so you might see... we have a big problem.

[brideis-library]

Two men stood before the king, dirty from the road and their long journey. One carried a bundle stained with a dark substance. Those who were near could smell decay wafting from inside.

Dusk had already fallen, and the hurried assembly of the court left people prickly and suspicious of the newcomers, whispering angrily amongst themselves.

King Bridei looked the men up and down, unimpressed. His pitch black eyes made no noticeable movement in the dim lighting of the court. He raised a hand to hush his subjects before speaking.

"Come a long way, have ye? What could ye have to warrant this late appearance?" Bridei made a half hearted attempt at masking his annoyance, fingers tapping against the hard oak of the throne.

"We bring— a trophy." The man carrying the bundle stepped forward and kneeled, holding the gift towards the king with a flourish. Bridei's frown deepened, not appreciating the theatrics. He scooted forward, immediately jerking back after catching a whiff. "The hell is this?" He blurted out- quickly trying to regain his kingly composure. The man simply gestured again to the gift. Bridei took it carefully and pulled the fabric open.

The head of a beautiful middle aged woman lay in the sack, her eyes still wide with fear, masses of curly hair caked with dried blood. It was clearly in the beginnings of decomposition- feeble attempts to preserve it were apparent. Bridei inhaled sharply at the sight, nearly dropping it. "Again- the hell is this? Who is she?"

The men beamed, one continuing. "We are but lowly tradesmen, your Majesty. Keeping to ourselves, living quiet lives. We seek not treasures or glory. But an opportunity arose that we could not ignore." Bridei's eye twitched ever so slightly, frustration building.

"We know of your brother, your Majesty. The enmity between you, and his exile. We followed a lead that was presented to us. We found where he resides."

Bridei's heart jumped in his chest at the mention of his estranged sibling. He still failed to see how this woman played a part in the story, but kept his mouth shut.

"We approached his house, aiming to bring justice to him, your Majesty. Unfortunate enough, he was not present. But- his dear wife was." Bridei's eyes widened and he looked down at the woman, brow furrowing. "She was almost certainly a witch. Shame it was not that devil himself, but the message will be clear. He is not safe!"

The other man stepped forward, holding out a piece of cloth. Upon inspection, it was clearly the tartan sash Nechtan wore before his exile. There was no dispute, they had found his brother.

He stared down into the woman's face, studying it silently. The men remained before him, eager for his response. "You are pleased, are you not?"

Bridei's head shot up, looking the man dead in the eyes. "Pleased?" He abruptly got to his feet, towering above the men, still clutching the head. "Ye murder an innocent woman and bring her to me, expecting to be rewarded?" The men exchanged glances, their plan coming apart at the seams. "Hardly innocent, your Majesty-"

"SILENCE." Bridei spat, starting towards them, causing the whole assembly to flee to the end of the room. The men fearfully stared up at him, unsure how to proceed. "Ye will be rewarded. Your deaths will not be as slow an' painful as ye deserve." Holding the head in the crook of his arm, Bridei unsheathed the sword at his side, and in two fluid motions, took the heads off the men's shoulders, their bodies dropping in heaps.

[thewondelandifulcafe]

“Be Prepared for a stunning proposal”  ~ Leona Kingscholar

Title: “Be Prepared for a stunning proposal” 

Menu: Twisted Wonderland

Beverage: Thai Bubble Tea

Main Dish(es): Donuts

Side Dish(es): Pies: Pumpkin Pie 

Spoilers: None

Word Count:

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Insanity, murder, thought rape  A/N: Let me know if I missed something plz.

Summary: There was scene that was deleted from the Lion King where Scar wanted Nala as his Queen. He asked Zazu why wasn’t he loved, where Zazu listed things Scar lacked. One thing stood out to Scar that being lacking a Queen to rule by his side. At that moment he sang a reprised “Be Prepared” to Nala asking her to be his Queen. Now Leona has taken over his brothers kingdom a similar way as Scar did. He now needs a mate to rule by his side and willingly obey his command that being Y/N.

Notes: Y/N is G/N, a loin, and two years younger than Leona. Like in Jamil’s we need a Zazu replacement. Meet Ollin meaning movement like Zazu means movement. He loyally serves the royal family having a favoritism to Falena’s family. Considering Leona to be untrustworthy and believing he is that family member who ruins everything.

3rd Person POV

       “Ollin why aren’t I loved?” Leona asked lazily as he through the bone he was playing with. “Simple Sire,” Ollin hated the fact he had to call Leona sire. Awful brat, not deserving of the throne, thought Ollin. “Things around here have gone to pot” Ollin collected the bones from the floor, throwing them in a pile. “Oh shut up,” Leona stepped down his throne, walking towards Ollin. “What’s important is how I feel.” “The pride lands have become the armpit of Twisted Wonderland,” Ollin stated gathering up the bones. “Why, I’m tall, witty, good-looking,” Leona ignored Ollin's truthful words, intoxicated by his pride and ego. “Hyenas and the Ruggie boy who I never liked for your information are walking around like they own the place!” Ollin declared, shaking a bone to empathize his words. Leona continued to mumble of how great he is. After all what not to love about him. He’s charming and can tell a good joke once in a while. “There’s not enough water for the people!” Ollin said desperately trying to get Leona to reason. “Hmm something missing,” Leona finally asked. “What is it?” “Your grasp on reality!” Ollin screamed in Leona’s face. “You’ve gone down the path of insanity!” “Please my lord do something or the Sunset Savanna will be a laughing stock of Twisted Wonderland.” Ollin tried to stay calm. 

       “If Falena was alive.” “Oh shut up fool” Leona pushed Ollin to the wall. “Consider it shut Sire.” “Falena, Falena it's always about Falena, I’m sick of him,” Leona walked around the throne room. “What does he have that I don’t.” “Nothing, you lack nothing at all,” Ollin flew to Leona trying to not get put in the dungeon or even worst killed. Why Leona did to his own brother without any remorse. What would stop him from killed Ollin, nothing. “Well except a few minor things,” Ollin said, he had to say it. Leona was possibly one of the worst kings Sunset Savanna had ever seen. It must of been fate that he was born to be the one inheriting the throne. “Adoring subjects, respect of your species, a loving family, a devoted mate,” Ollin listed slyly leaning toward Leona with his hand behind his back. “Shall I go on Sire.” Leona paid no attention towards the other things he lacked. But a mate…a devoted one as well. That what he needed. Someone who would do what ever he commanded. Side by him. Care for him. Show his people he had a mate. “A mate, yes I need a mate,” Leona commented. “ACK what,” Ollin was shocked, even more scared for the poor soul, Leona would pick. “They would rule by my side.” Leona continued. “We’ll have cubs little Leonas running around,” “My heirs, my descendants, my lineage,” Leona had a grin one that Ollin could tell something bad would happen. “I will be immortal!”

       “Leona,” Y/N walked carefully through the door. “Ah Y/N your timing is wonderful,” Leona looked at the young lion with strong romantic interest. “Couldn’t be more perfect, do come in.” Oh no Ollin thought The poor thing. “The will be all Ollin,” Leona said, not removing his sights on Y/N. “Oh don’t you think I would stay,” Ollin was worried about Y/N they nothing more than a servant. It was just by chance they walked in.  “That will be all,” Leona unhappily repeated taking his sights off the lion. Ollin flew towards Y/N and whispered, “Give a roar if something happens,” Y/N oblivious did not understand what Ollin meant. “Come a little closer,” Leona said fixated on Y/N. “I won’t bite.” Leona grinned like the infamous Cheshire Cat. He must say Y/N is physically attractive perfect for a mate. He’s know them since childhood and they were kind and well-loved. “Leona it’s chaos out there and someone needed to do something.” Y/N warned. They looked around for exits in case Leona got mad.

       “It’s tough being king and alone,” That was misplaced you thought. It wasn’t even an answer to what they said. “I deserve a mate, someone to rule by my side,” Leona circled around Y/N. “And you perfectly fit the part,” “Excuse me I don’t believe I heard you right,” Y/n said. “You’re beautiful/handsome after all, perfect fit for my mate,” Leona stood by your side bending down/looking up to be at your eye level. “A king without a mate is sad, but a king without an heir a tragedy.” “You can’t be serious,” you said backing away from Leona. “I’ve never been more serious,” you walked away from Leona going to the door where he stopped you in your tracks. “Be Prepared for a stunning proposal,” Leona said leaning into you. “Power and beauty should bond.” Leona walked closer to you. Which resulted in you backing into a wall. Leona pined you to the wall. Leona went closer to your face resulting in you slapping him. .Oh well now really have be mate,” he rubbed his hand on the spot you slapped him. You quickly run to your room and hid. “One way or another you will be my mate.” Leona yelled. 

       Leona gather the kingdom. He suggested you get ready and wear your best outfit. You knew what would happen so you did as he said, “let the kingdom be my witness!” Leona said. “I choose Y/N as my mate.” You need something would happen if you didn’t do as he said. “I accept,” you said, how bad could it be? Maybe Leona wouldn’t be the worst husband.

                                    *The End*

A/N: This is probably the longest story I’ve written. This is actually a video I saw on YouTube. Leona came out as a creep. Not my intention. This a new series I’ll be making with the characters while using clips of their movies or deleted ones. Video = https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zl8gDjaHWWA

[lordkingsmith]

14) who we are by the waves of time; DC media story. Third in a trilogy. It’s about Orm Marius, Harley’s brother Barry, and Cisco. It is very very much an au lol

Here’s a little snippet :) I need to finish it and get it up lol.

Arthur had a long fuse but as Marius knew very well, it could and would run out. And when it did, the snarky, fairly easy going but intimidating gentle giant vanished. It was then people tended to see exactly how much of a king he really was.

Marius for his part, and it looked like David as well, were quite enjoying not being on the receiving end of the righteous fury for once. Vulko, however, was not so lucky.

“So how did you figure this out?” David asked as Arthur continued rounding on an increasingly frayed Vulko. Calmly, for the most part, but with his patented icy point fury.

“He kept trying to push me which I found rather suspicious, however mostly it was Barry and Cisco. They made a comment some days ago when they were with me during a meeting, that made me wonder. So I went to see Hila a week ago.” It wasn’t entirely wrong nor entirely a lie. Barry’s commentary had made Marius simply more sure it was Vulko.

“And Hila just…told you?”

“Of course not. I got her very very angry first.”

Hyde looked at him with some apprehension. “….how?”

Marius waved him off, feigning flippancy.

“Oh don’t worry it wasn’t anything to do with you or your family or mine. I wouldn’t use any of you as bait or otherwise.” Not anymore and he was proud of himself for the self restraint. David just continued looking at him however so with a faint sigh he elaborated.

“I threatened her with letting Lex look at her since she’s an exile as I am and technically on my turf. I have rights over her fate.”

“That worked?”

“I kept escalating it until she started screaming at me. We didn’t get quite to genetic hybrid child, but we did get as far as DNA in general.” He paused thoughtfully for dramatic effect. “I thought she’d break just at the mention of letting a human study our biology through her. Unfortunately I had to continue to the logical conclusion when she didn’t.”

Arthur grimaced and Hyde just shook his head “Glad he was good for something in that regard.” Hyde responded dryly. “Thanks for stepping in with this. You didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did.” For reasons he couldn’t say but that didn’t really matter, there were other reasons too. “Consider it an early wedding gift. You and Arthur hardly deserve starting matrimony with people trying to take him off the throne in the worst ways.”

Hyde shook his head again, sighing. “Right…thanks?”

“Don’t worry, that’s not a threat.” He smiled at David before getting up to stop Arthur from murder. “Brother” he started calmly though a little strained as he put his bandaged arms up to block the attack from Arthur on a worryingly calm Vulko. “Don’t prove your enemies right.”

It was only his slightly superior strength as a full Atlantean that kept Arthur from finishing his swing to attack Vulko braced and cornered against the wall. It still took effort, though. It also hurt. He was fairly sure it had rebroken something.

“Arthur” Marius hissed when he tried to get around him to attack Vulko again. “He’s not worth even a quarter of the effort he gave to kill you.” His eyes flicked to the interested Vulko. “He’s not worth it.” He said again, quietly, firmly. “Trust me, from experience, don’t even bother trying.”

Arthur’s eyes refocused from pure rage and betrayal, focused on Marius, shifted to grief and exhaustion. But it was still several moments after that before Arthur pulled away and retreated from the situation.

I’ll also toss in a little something from another wip lol. This one is Lost Girls and Labyrinths. Think labyrinth meets Peter Pan.

Oddly when she observed at it more closely it was a clover flower standing serenely purple above the leaves. Notably, a leaf with one trisection ripped into three tatters. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but when she saw it she couldn’t stop her eye from going to it. Drawn to the leaf as though it were a tragedy.

“Poor thing.” She murmured.

“What’s a poor thing?”

“Hm?” She raised an eyrbrow over at Rose and shrugged with a small smile. “Nothing, really. A flower, I think it broke in the wind or something. Poor thing.”

Rose shook her head with a laugh. “You’re weird you know that?” She did but it always stung when someone said so. Until the did she always hoped that this time she was doing well. Wasn’t abnormal at all. “I love that about you.”

People always said so but it still didn’t them from telling her she was weird. She just laughed, used to hiding the hurt. “It’s why we get along!”

This was partly why she was getting annoyed with them both. They kept hurting on accident and she didn’t have the heart to tell them the comments were painful because they didn’t have any reason to be painful. They were comments everyone said to everyone else, and they were compliments. She hardly understood herself why she found them so painful.

It just wasn’t worth telling them, but it was eating at her all the same.

“Ready to get going?” She asked brightly as Helen walked over to meet them, instead of asking them not to call her weird. For the dozenth time. “Or do you gals want to walk around and stretch our legs more?”

“Stretching doesn’t sound like a bad idea, at least for a few minutes” Rose mused. “We’ve got, what, two more hours? Might be a good idea. We won’t be able to really walk around until the evening anyway.”

Wen nodded. It wouldn’t put them off schedule, as long as nothing happened. She looked back to the clover patch, but amongst the crowd of other leaves she couldn’t see the clover with the ripped leaf at all. She knew it was there, of course, but among all the leaves and stems in the glittering green, she couldn’t find it at all.

A pity, it would have been good to take more photos of.

[venusintheblindspots-blog]

DECONSTRUCTIONS of Fantasy Archetypes in ASOIF

So, do y’all remember that one GRRM interview where he talks about Aragon’s tax policy?

The link to the interview is right here : https://www.tolkiensociety.org/2014/04/grrm-asks-what-was-aragorns-tax-policy/

I’ve always interpreted that quote as a critique of the endings that are given to most fantasy heroes, where they save the day, and continue to rule a happy kingdom.

Now, there are many characters in ASOIF that could be linked to the hero archetype,-Dany, Jon, Tyrion, Arya, Sansa, Davos, etc.,(literally almost every POV character is certain type of fantasy hero, or possesses traits of one, although most of them are reconstructions).

But the one character I’ve always linked to that quote, is Robert Baratheon.

Robert’s Rebellion, without the nuance, reads like a Disney fairytale. The young hero (Robert), saving the maiden (Lyanna),from the evil prince (Rhaegar) and his father (Aerys). In a Disney fairytale, Robert and Lyanna would have married, and rule as the King and Queen of a kingdom that adores them. Rhaegar and Aerys would have been disposed of, and most people would celebrate it.

But in ASOIF, that’s not what quite happens.

Romance

Robert and Lyanna were betrothed, yes, but based off of perception of Lyanna from Ned, her brother (and the only POV character who actually knew her), and what we’ve seen of Robert, their marriage would’ve been miserable for her and him ( eventually).

“You never knew Lyanna as I did, Robert,” Ned told him. “You saw her beauty, but not the iron underneath. She would have told you that you have no business in the melee.”

“ Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”

In these two quotes from Ned Stark’s chapters in A Game of Thrones, Lyanna seemingly has no interest in marrying Robert Baratheon, despite the ‘interest’ he has in her.

Who Are Robert’s ‘Villains’ ?

Putting the ‘romance’ in Robert’s story aside, we’ll now focus on his villains : Rhaegar and Aerys Targaryen. Most book readers agree that Aerys, the mad King was not a suitable ruler during the time of Robert’s Rebellion and needed to be gone. But Rhaegar Targaryen has always been a polarizing character within the fandom, and the text.

“I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her.”

“In my dreams, I kill him every night,” Robert admitted. “A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.”

“Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.”

“He had failed Prince Rhaegar once. He would not fail his son, not whilst life remained in his body.”

“Rhaegar, who would have been a finer king than any of them.”

“Your brother Rhaegar is still remembered, with great love.”

Now, it is important to note that all of these are opinions from different characters, most of whom didn’t know Rhaegar personally, so there is a lot of bias in some of these quotes. But the quote that stook out to me the most comes from Barristan Selmy :

“It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly.”

Because as readers, we don’t really know him at all. We know of his actions, ( some of which I find truly selfish) and there are a thousand theories as to why he does what he does, but we truly don’t know.

But anyways, let’s get back to Robert because I don’t intend to dissect Rhaegar as yet.

Robert’s Rebellion

I’m going to just do a quick summary. Rhaegar ‘steals’ the woman that Robert is betrothed to, and in result, her brother and father are murdered by his father. His father, Aerys then calls for the heads of her betrothed, Robert Baratheon and her brother, Eddard Stark. After witnessing the deaths of Rickard and Brandon Stark, Jaime Lannister executes the mad King. Robert and Rhaegar face each other on the Trident, Rhaegar dies,- y’all should know this story by now.

Ultimately, Robert killing Rhaegar and saving the realm from the mad King and his son should’ve been a good thing. It should’ve secured peace and safety for everyone in the realm. The main reason most characters (Jaime Lannister) in the books wanted the Mad King gone is because his reign threatens the safety of the innocent people of Kingslanding, and the rest of Westeros. All of these things would have happened if Robert’s Rebellion was a simple fairytale, and Robert himself were a true hero (I sound a little like Sansa here, lol), but he isn’t and now we’re going to explore why.

Those Who Weren’t Protected By Our Hero

Let’s reign in Elia Martell, one of my favorite minor characters in the series.

The majority of the time we hear of Elia, we hear of the tragic ending she and her babies got. There are theories of her being on board with Rhaegar’s ‘plans’, (theories I absolutely do not buy into), or even her being so unsatisfactory of a wife that Rhaegar may have secretly hated her(quite extreme for a character we hardly know). But one thing is for certain : she did her duty as a wife in Westeros. She provided Rhaegar with two healthy children, a boy, Aegon, and a girl, Rhaenys.

“Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. ”

“Some said it had been Gregor who’d dashed the skull of the infant prince Aegon Targaryen against a wall, and whispered that afterward he had raped the mother, the Dornish princess Elia, before putting her to the sword. These things were not said in Gregor’s hearing.”

“It was said that Rhaegar’s little girl had cried as they dragged her from beneath her bed to face the swords. The boy had been no more than a babe in arms, yet Lord Tywin’s soldiers had torn him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall.”

What are Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon if not innocents?

Let’s see what Robert Baratheon has to say on that matter.

“Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.”

Mind you, this man is talking about a toddler, a newborn and their mother. “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.”

Robert’s take on Elia Martell and her children is not only cold and heartless, but goes against the ‘hero protecting innocents’ trope.

Robert Baratheon Almost Two Decades After His Rebellion

Now let’s look at the Robert that we meet in A Game Of Thrones.

He’s not the ‘Demon of the Trident’ who saved the realm from chaos, but rather a terrible has-been. I mean, just look at Jon Snow’s reaction to seeing him :

“The king was a great disappointment to Jon. His father had talked of him often: the peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Jon saw only a fat man, red-faced under his beard, sweating through his silks. He walked like a man half in his cups.”

He will probably be remembered as a good king for most people in Westeros, but only because of the small council that does the work for him.

“Perhaps we had best wait for Ser Barristan and the king to join us,” Ned suggested.

Renly Baratheon laughed aloud. “If we wait for my brother to grace us with his royal presence, it could be a long sit.”

“Our good King Robert has many cares,” Varys said. “He entrusts some small matters to us, to lighten his load.”

He’s a drunkard who abuses his wife and children and reminisces on a dead girl who had zero interest in him.

“The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister’s name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna.”

“The talk is you and the queen had angry words last night.”

The mirth curdled on Robert’s face. “The woman tried to forbid me to fight in the melee. She’s sulking in the castle now, damn her.”

“My son. How could I have made a son like that, Ned?”

“Ned touched her cheek gently. “Has he done this before?”

“Once or twice.” She shied away from his hand. ”

He’s kind of….pathetic.

George R. R. Martin plays with the idea that good people and good intentions do not always equate to good kings, vice versa. He uses a lot of common fantasy tropes and archetypes, but reconstructs them in a realistic way. Robert Baratheon, like most characters in ASOIF plays into the hero archetype, but him being a hero in the story is subjective and highly depends on who is perceiving him.

That’s it for now. I might do more analytical posts for some of my favorite characters but don’t take my word for it.

[lassieposting]

Might be a bit sick but in retrospect, Skulduggery telling Omen he had “disagreements” with his father (or did he say this to Valkyrie? Don’t care not checking) is the most understated hilarious possible fucking way of describing “oh my dad fucking murdered my mother and turned half my siblings pure evil and we had to give him a kicking like the bomb gave hiroshima and chain him up in a magic coffin and jail him in an alternate dimension as an exchange prisoner with a tyrannical god-king because he was too powerful to even consider killing”

Like lmao. “Disagreements” give me a break

—

In his defence, this is one of the few times where Skug is actually incredibly diplomatic. There’s a few reasons for this:

1. The obvious one: Omen is a kid. More than that, Omen is a lame kid, whose entire life experience at that point is Being Fat, Being Lame, and Sitting In Maths Class. He would have no point of reference for how to react to something as viscerally horrifying as my father murdered my mother. That would be a wildly age-inappropriate story for Skug to tell him - so much so that even Skug knows it. 

2. The other obvious one: all the Abrogate bullshit would be a very painful, very personal, very old wound for Skug. No way in hell would he want to open it for the benefit of this boy he barely knows. Yes, he’s prone to dropping inappropriate stories out of nowhere, but most of the time it’s because they’re either relevant to what’s happening around them, or he doesn’t realise they’re inappropriate, because he’s messed up, and his upbringing was messed up, and his concept of what’s normal is decidedly skewed as a result. 

And 3. The one I think actually occurred to him at the time: Omen is a child with an abusive home and parents who have a hardcore golden child/scapegoat dynamic. Omen is a child who has spent his entire life being overshadowed by and negatively compared to whatshisface, the brother. And in this moment, Omen is a child who is - tentatively - reaching out to someone he sees as a Safe Adult. He’s testing the water to see how Skug reacts to a relatively minor disclosure, because he - Omen - isn’t sure whether he really is just disappointing and useless, or whether he’s justified in feeling neglected and badly treated. 

Skug also came from an abusive home, was also the family scapegoat, and at some point probably dropped the same kind of hints to Ghastly’s parents. He would know how important it is that he react correctly, because it would be so easy at this point to make Omen feel like he can’t open up to anyone about his home life again. 

And “Yeah, well, my father murdered my mother, we’ve all got problems,” would be a spectacular way to make sure he never brings up his family issues again. It would be overshadowing his pain, putting him in the same position he’s been pushed into by his parents all his life. It would be saying your suffering doesn’t matter because I had it worse. 

And Skug is a lot of bad things, but he’s not deliberately cruel to people who don’t deserve it. He’s kind to Peg Muldoon, he’s kind to Scaramouche van Dreg, he’s kind to Scapegrace - all people who could have reasonably been handled with violence or cruelty. So he’s absolutely not going to choose nastiness with this boy. 

He says: I liked my mother. I think I might have even loved my mother. I had disagreements with my father. In the same conversation, he tells Omen that parents should love their children, and that it’s not Omen’s fault that his don’t. 

That’s. A very carefully-worded way of putting it. He’s chosen words that will seem, to Omen, to mimic his own situation. He’s saying I understand what you’re trying to tell me. He’s saying I see how they treat you and I don’t approve. He’s validating what Omen has been through as the scapegoat child, and telling him it’s not okay. He’s giving Omen an ally - an adult who sees the Darkly parents’ behaviour, isn’t okay with it, and isn’t afraid of them. Basically, he’s trying to give Omen the kind of support that Ghastly’s parents probably once gave him when he was in Omen’s position. 

And for that, Omen doesn’t need to know how much worse Skug had it. He just needs to know that a) Skug survived it, and b) someone he has a lot of respect for has confirmed that the way his parents treat him is Not Okay. It’s really quite a startling amount of tact and empathy for someone who is so, so damaged, and this is probably the closest we get to seeing how he likely behaved with his own child. 

(It is a hilarious understatement, though. Good job, buddy.)

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Flesh and Blood

Part 3: An unexpected visitor

Pairing: Prince Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader (Northerner /House Stark | Third Person POV)

Themes: Some angst

Warnings: Mentions of prior emotional neglect | References to canon Targcestuous marriages (Daena and Baelor)

Word count: 2.7K words.

Summary: Y/n receives a most unexected visitor.

Minors DNI

Rules and tag form can be found here.  

Part 1 | Part 2

Y/n was seated under the shade of an old frangipani tree, reading several letters addressed to her. The tree was still flowering, and the air was sweet. She took a deep breath and sighed. The sweetness of the flowers was cut by the sharpness of salt hanging in the air. Y/n did not mind. The air was cleaner here than it was in the city. And the manse was near a sheltered cove. The water was calm most of the time and perfect for fishing and swimming.

"What did the letter say?" Uther skewered the last fish y/n helped him catch and clean. He stuffed the inside with herbs before placing it over a small fire to cook like the others. "Mother insisted I do not ask about it, but what did Aemon say?"

"Read it," y/n said, holding out the letter for him. She trusted Uther implicitly. "I do not mind."

Uther washed his hands in a bowl of water and took the letter after cleaning them. He read it once, then twice, carefully parsing through every word and line. There was sincerity in Aemon's words, and warmth. The prince wrote of the miseries plaguing his family and why he was so close to Naerys.

None of this is an excuse, he went on to say. You are my wife, and our marriage must come first in everything. I have come to see that I was wrong for not confiding in you and not being the husband that you deserve. I should have shown concern for your well-being instead of leaving you to fend for yourself. I cannot undo the past. I certainly cannot ask for forgiveness. The Seven alone know I have lost any right to do so. All I can do is ask for a chance to earn it. May I ask for it, my lady? 

Your humble servant,

Aemon

Uther returned the letter to y/n. "The man has a way with words. Do you want to do it? Forgive your humble servant, I mean?"

Y/n had spent three sleepless nights considering it. Lady Cerwyn made discrete inquiries and learned that Aemon was indeed telling the truth. There was nothing untoward between him and Naerys. And y/n thought of it—forgiving him and going back. Then she remembered the lonely nights, the awful days, the pitying looks, and the ugly gossip. Going back to her husband without a second thought did not sit well with her after that. 

"I do not know," y/n said. Her attention went to her sister's letter. "And I do not know what to tell Serena either. She was against the marriage, you know."

"She is not the only one," Uther said. He stretched out his legs and sighed. "We were all against it." His eyes glinted mischievously. "Your grandfather looked at father and mother and asked if I wanted to take you off his hands. Then he would have an excuse to give the king."

Y/n snorted and laughed, for the first time in days. "Us? Married?" she looked at her cousin with fondness. Uther would only ever be like a little brother to her, just like she would only ever be like an older sister to him. "We would drive each other to madness and murder before long."

"That is what we all said." Uther chortled. "I still have not forgotten what you did with my tea."

"Only because you put ink into my tea first!" y/n cried. Her eyes twinkled when she remembered. "My teeth were black for weeks!"

"Three days," Uther corrected her with a blithe wave of the hand. "Mine, on the other hand, were black for weeks. Oh!" He clapped his hands to his chest in a theatrical fashion. "How I mourned for my teeth!"

"Yes, well, when Becca Mormont fussed you got over it quickly enough," y/n retorted. After she repaid his trick in kind, Uther walked into the Great Hall, ink-stained teeth and all, and the ladies fussed over him like hens, something he enjoyed thoroughly.

Uther flashed her a grin. "Yes. Yes I did. It felt wonderful to have Becca spoil me."

Y/n could only roll her eyes and mutter under her breath. Uther cackled.

"Little wolf." Lady Cerwyn walked up to them with a heavy basket in one hand, and a picnic mat in the other. She bent over to kiss Uther on the head. "My son."

 Y/n looked up and smiled. She made room for her aunt. "Sit with me, aunt Emma."

Emma spread her skirt over the dry tufts of grass and sat down. She eyed Aemon's letter. "Have we made a decision?"

"I do not know." Y/n put the letter down and sniffed. "I do not know what to do. He asks for forgiveness but how do I do it? How do I just forgive him? I cannot do it."

Emma ran a hand down her niece's hair and tutted affectionately. "Would you like to go home with us? End the marriage and leave this miserable place behind you?"

"You can do it," Uther added. "Your grandfather will demand an annulment once you tell him everything."

Oh, to go home and put it all behind her. To wake up to a late summer dusting of snow and the castle's wolfdogs baying beneath her windows. Hot pies and mulled wine for supper. Her lord grandfather entertaining everyone with his tales. Hours spent talking and gossiping with Serena. The feasts that would end in a brawl. The laughter that followed when heads inevitably stopped ringing. Staying up late during autumn nights in the hope Long Fang, an ice dragon that lived in the white waste, would circle the castle in his search for his lost love.

"No," Y/n said. Her grandfather was old and had enough troubles to contend with, and his demanding an annulment on his grandchild's behalf could turn the crown against the North. "Grandfather has enough as it is, dealing with Uncle Jonnel and Uncle Edric. I will not place more burdens on his shoulders."

"Then take your time and make Aemon come to you," Emma insisted. She looked over the garden wall. Her other children were on the beach, looking for pretty seashells and hunting for tiny crabs. "Make him earn his place by your side."

Y/n grew thoughtful. Aemon's letter was a first step, but it was not enough. She decided to heed her aunt's advice. Her husband had to make an effort. 

"Will you help me write a reply?" 

"You know I will." Emma smiled and spread out the picnic mat. She brought out what was in the basket. Freshly baked bread, butter, and cold water to wash it all down. Uther pursed his lips and whistled between his teeth. His siblings heard and ran back to the manse. 

The next hour was spent eating and talking. Y/n heard that Long Fang had already been sighted near the Fist of the First Men. The first bud had arisen on the old winter rose vine in Winterfell's formal courtyard. These were the first signs that autumn was approaching. Micken, Winterfell's chief scholar, would be sending the White Raven to the Grand Maester before long. 

I wonder what winter in this crowded city would be like. Y/n went over the letters before her. Her sister had written to say she was well and could travel. She would board the first ship bound for King's Landing. Lady Cerwyn made plans to leave after she arrived. The other letter was from her mother. Y/n went through Aemon's letter once more. She decided to deal with it after supper. 

A servant was seen hurrying towards them. "My pardons, my lady." He bowed and took a moment to catch his breath. He then knelt beside Lady Cerwyn and whispered in her ear. Emma listened and nodded.

"Thank you, Jory." Emma turned to y/n, her eyes filled with worry. "You have a visitor, little wolf. Finish up here, children. I will take your cousin in with me."

Believing Aemon had come calling, y/n rose and mustered her courage. She followed her aunt inside, not stopping until they had reached the solar. When her aunt opened the door, y/n stepped inside first. She was stunned to see who their visitor was. 

"Princess Naerys," y/n said, her mouth agape. "To what do we owe the honor of this visit?"

Naerys was standing by a window, looking out into the sea. She had been garbed in the pale gray and blue robes favored by novice septas. Her hair had been bound and hidden under a cowl. A string of polished prayer beads with a seven-pointed star between every seven beads looped around her right wrist. Y/n thought she looked pale and worn.

"Good sister," Naerys said timidly, her gaze turning to her feet when she caught sight of y/n and her aunt. "I... I must insist you call me sister. You are married to my brother. We are equals. And family."

Y/n nodded, confused. She had no idea what this visit was about. Her aunt called for refreshments. 

"Pray sit down," y/n said after Naerys helped herself to nibbles of bread and olives and cups of cold water. "You look tired."

"Thank you." Naerys smoothed her skirts and made herself comfortable on an upholstered oak chair. "The Grand Maester was against me traveling so far out of the city, but I insisted."

"Did you come by yourself?"

"No. Lord Commander Hardyng and a Maester traveled with me in case something happened."

The room went quiet. Naerys kept throwing glances at Emma. Perhaps she wishes to speak to me alone. Y/n turned to her aunt. "It is all right, Aunt Emma. I think I can manage."

Emma reached out and took y/n's hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze. "I will be nearby if you need anything."

Emma made her excuses and left. Y/n sat opposite the princess, and an awkward silence settled between them. Neither of them knew what to say. All that could be heard were the sounds of their breath and the waves beating against the shore. Y/n glanced at the princess. Naerys was beautiful, but delicate and frail. She was hardly seen about, preferring to remain cloistered within her chambers. The only times she left her rooms were to pray or watch Aemon joust. And that too only when her health permitted it.

One of us will have to start talking. Y/n finally opened her mouth to speak, but Naerys coughed and jumped straight in.

"My brother..." she said, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment. “I suppose he has spoken about our family?" 

Y/n thought of Aemon's letter, her aunt's discrete inquiries through loyal servants. "He has, yes."

“He said he would," Naerys said, bobbing her head like a little bird. "He said he made many mistakes when it came to you, and now he does not know how to make amends for any of them." She sighed softly. "We had no one to show us, you see. Uncle was always a joyless man despite his queen's many efforts. And my own parents… mother leaving us... and father…"

“Your brother said it all in his letter." Naerys was struggling to talk about her family. Y/n understood. She would find it hard if someone asked about her half-uncles. 

Naerys nodded and looked around. "Aemon is a good man," she said in defense of her brother. "He truly wants to save his marriage and make you happy. Please. Give him a chance. I promise you will not regret it."

"I... I need time," Y/n said. Aemon's letter and his sister's visit were too much to take in all at once. Her mind was a roil. "to think."

"I understand," said Naerys. She looked around again and said, "Your cousin Ser Uther is quite the fighter, Aemon tells me. Ser Addam is still abed with aches and bruises."

"He is." Y/n smiled. "My grandfather taught him." 

Naerys managed a weak smile. "Aemon speaks very highly of your grandfather. He said he had never faced a finer swordsman than Lord Cregan Stark. He speaks highly of your father, too. He said Lord Rickon was very brave, and the men respected him. A pity, really, that he died for the sake of Daeron's foolishness." Naerys gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth. "Please do not repeat that to Daena," she murmured out of fear. "She does not take kindly to anyone who insults her brother."

Y/n pursed her lips and nodded. Grief gathered around her heart like bees. The reminder that her father passed before his due time, and that too due to a king's foolishness, made a sharp pang of sorrow shoot through her. She took her time to compose herself and wondered what else to say. The room grew silent once more. Y/n knew she had to say something, her sister by marriage defied all good sense just to come all this way to clear the air. When a nearby bell struck the hour, Naerys rose and spared her the effort.

"Pray forgive me, good-sister, but I must leave," Naerys said, looking out the window. The sky was awash with a glorious display of gold, yellow, and orange streaks of light. "The Grand Maester was insistent I not stay away too long. Before I leave, I wish to offer my condolences for your father's passing. And comfort, however little it may be." 

Y/n rose as well. "Thank you... good-sister," she said after some struggle. Naerys was not responsible for her brother's failings after all. "Farewell."

Naerys smiled and took her leave. Y/n escorted her to the gate, alarm taking root when she recognized the courser by the carriage. "Did you bring your brother here?"

"No." Naerys appeared to be as stunned as her good-sister. "Aemon was away when I left."

Aemon had been talking to Lord Commander Hardyng. When he turned and faced y/n, he really smiled. It was as if nothing pleased him more than seeing her. Y/n did not know what to make of it. 

"Sister," he said and took Naery's hand. "The Grand Maester came looking for me. He said you went against his advice and came here. May I ask why?"

Naerys leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Aemon merely smiled and nodded. He helped her into the carriage. Y/n stood by the gate and watched while the carriage lurched and moved forward. She stayed while it and Lord Commander Hardyng turned into little specks in the distance. Y/n was aware of Aemon’s gaze on her. She mustered her courage again. This too, had to be dealt with.

"My lord," she said, turning to face Aemon. 

"My lady." Aemon grew bashful. "Are you well? You... you look a little..."

"Worse for wear?" Y/n finished for him. She laughed bitterly. "Well, three sleepless nights can do that to you."

"Is it because of me? Is it because of what I did?" Aemon stopped and shook his head. "Is it because of what I did not do?"

Y/n looked over her shoulder. Uther was standing by the front door, his arms folded across his chest. Emma was standing next to him. Her other children were a step behind her. 

At least I am not alone this time. Y/n drew courage from their presence and turned back to her husband.

"It is a lot of things," she said plainly. "I do not like being the target of court gossip. I want a real marriage—a husband that wants me, someone who wants to spend time with me instead of running off as soon as he has done his duty. I am tired of coming last, of being the object of pity, and of being treated as nothing more than a chore you want out of your way. I am tired of being alone, and unwanted, I am tired of trying to make myself more acceptable to you, only to see my efforts yield nothing. I..." Y/n sighed. Loneliness and the trials of over half a year came crashing onto her shoulders. "I... I am just tired,” she said softly.

Aemon came closer. He took y/n's hands into his. She was startled. Aemon had never done it before. She wanted to shrink back, to pull her hand away. And she could not bring herself to do it. Y/n felt like she had been starved and could not find it in herself to refuse such a tasty morsel.

"Your struggles are due to my failings as a husband." Aemon brought her hands to his lips. He kissed each finger repeatedly. "You had no one here save for me, and I failed you. I give you my word it will not happen again. I would be so grateful and honored if you came back. And I... I was wondering if I could ask for the chance to court you. I realized we never had a courtship, and I would like to start now, and get to know you better. I wish for nothing more than a chance to do that and earn your forgiveness. One chance. All I ask is for one chance."

Y/n swallowed. She tried to frame a reply. It was hard to do so when Aemon kissed her hands so tenderly. Her stomach started to flutter.

"I..." She finally shook her head and fought for composure. She remembered her aunt's words and strengthened her resolve. Aemon was not going to have an easy victory. She would not let him have it. He would have to earn his place in her heart first. "I would like to stay here. And I cannot promise anything. I am sorry."

"I... I understand. And I will come to you," Aemon promised, albeit sadly. He let go of her hands and walked over to his horse. Y/n looked over his shoulder while he fished around a bag attached to the saddle, wondering what he was up to. Her curiosity was answered when Aemon returned with a letter in his hand. The red wax seal bore the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. 

There had not been a feast since the tourney began, and etiquette demanded the host, in this case the royal family, provide food and music and dancing at the end of each day of the tourney. Y/n considered the invitation. A royal hunt was one thing, she was grateful her aunt thought ahead and brought their owls for a hunt of their own. But the other things... a coronation... there was so much to be done and not enough time for it all.

"An invitation from the king and queen," he said, and gave her the letter. "For you and your kin. There will be a royal hunt in a week and Daena's coronation a fortnight after that. There will be a feast. I... we... would be honored if you all came." 

"I will give this to my aunt," y/n said, accepting the letter. Despite it all, she felt a giddy sense of excitement. A queen had not been anointed since the days of Aemma Arryn. "And we will come."

"Thank you," Aemon said gratefully. He took her hands into his once more and brought them to his lips. His hands were warm when they pressed over hers, and gentle. "And I will call on you on the morrow. Farewell, my lady."

"Farewell, my lord." Y/n stood by the gate, and watched Aemon mount his horse and ride away. Her hands tingled. She could still feel the impression of her husband's lips against her skin. 

Tags: @immyowndefender​ 

[fischerfrey]

A Christmas Prince; The Royal Wedding

Chapter 3: The Princess and the Ogre

Summary: Royal protocol threatens to dictate everything about Dawn and Quincey's wedding. Olympia's charity play faces obstacles.

Words: 3k

Characters:

Dawn Harvelle and Evander Alderly @potionboy3

Quincey and Olympia Alderly, Tess Brandon

Gaia Alden by @cursed-herbalist

Also featuring:

Pandora Lovelace & Nymeria Lee by @gcldensnitch, Jimmy Crouch, Maxim Raeburn, Rosa Yaxley & Evan Harvelle by @potionboy3, Rocky Weasley by @magicallymalted

Beginning | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Want to read the first fic in the series, A Christmas Prince? Click here!

Chapter 3: The Princess and the Ogre

“Your Majesties, Your Highness,” said Evander. He had a distinct look of dishevelment about him that Dawn had not expected to see.

Quincey’s personal security guard had already stepped in, ready to escort Evander out of the premises.

“It’s alright, Mr. Flitwick,” said Quincey. “He appears to be in no shape to do us any further harm.”

“Queen Isabella,” said Evander. “Merry Christmas.”

“What is it you want, Evander?” asked the queen.

“I know I deserve to be met with such hostility,” Evander continued. Dawn’s dad and Tess had made their way next to Dawn, as if to serve as his personal guard. Dawn thought it was kind of cute. Tess whispered: “Is this the bloke who…”

“Who tried to steal Quincey’s crown? Yes,” Dawn whispered back.

“Frankly, I’m amazed to see your face here, cousin,” said Quincey.

“After the… unfortunate incident last Christmas, I lost almost everything I had,” Evander explained.

“Just desserts!” Olympia chimed in.

“I don't expect you to forgive me,” said Evander. “But I wanted to say I'm sorry, and Merry Christmas…”

The entire family was looking at Evander in something of a shock. This was the last thing Dawn had expected and he was willing to bet it had not crossed the minds of anyone else in the room, either.

“And congratulations,” finished Evander, looking at Dawn and Quincey now with an expression that could almost be described as genuine. “To you both.”

He turned to leave, and Quincey stepped forward. “Wait.”

Evander stopped in his tracks, turning back to face the king. Quincey sighed and said: “I don't know how you'll ever regain our trust. But we're still family. And it's Christmas.”

Olympia looked like she was about to punch some sense into her brother. Dawn exchanged looks with his dad and aunt.

“He may stay,” Quincey told the head of security and Evander looked seemingly relieved.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Olympia might actually murder you.”

Evander looked at Olympia who scowled. It seemed forgiveness didn’t come to her as easily as her brother, though Dawn wasn’t sure where all this goodwill on Quincey’s part was coming from.

~

Queen Isabella exchanged a few words with his wayward nephew, who then hovered awkwardly near the tree but didn’t touch any of the decorations. A passing waiter gave him a mug of steaming hot glühwein. Dawn decided to go over and see what he was really up to.

“Count Evander,” he said as he approached.

“Mr. Harvelle,” he replied. “Or Your Highness, soon enough.”

“What brought you to us on this… fine December evening?” Dawn asked.

“I knew you would all be together, and I thought: what better time to make my apologies?”

“I guess,” said Dawn, squinting his eyes.

“I know you don’t like me or trust me, but I’m not here to cause any trouble,” said Evander. “I’m just trying to make things right between me and my family.”

“It’s my family too, now, so if you try any shit–,” started Dawn but Evander stopped him on his tracks: “I won’t. I don’t want to go against you and my dear cousins ever again. The first round was quite humiliating enough.”

Dawn was a little pleased to hear it but hoped it wasn’t too obvious. “Quincey’s right, Olympia might actually kill you.”

“Yes, I imagine obtaining her forgiveness might be a little too optimistic.”

~

As the evening went on and the tree began to look sufficiently decorated, Evander had gained enough ground to sit on one of the couches and talk about his past year. He and his mother Amelia had a falling out and that had resulted in her cutting off all the money. It must have been a blow, but Dawn found it hard to sympathize with a count when it came to these things.

“So, what did you do?” asked Tess.

“Well, I moved to a more… modest housing arrangement,” Evander explained. “Oh, and I sold my car, that one was… difficult.”

Dawn rolled his eyes, but Tess chuckled and said: “It must have been.”

Evan sat next to Dawn and said under his breath: “Should we be worried about that one?”

“I’m always worried about Evander,” Dawn replied.

“Maybe I should kick his ass?”

Dawn laughed quietly. “Oh my god, dad.”

“I would probably lose.”

“No, you’d totally win.”

“Win what?” asked Quincey, walking up to them.

“Fist fight against Evie,” Dawn explained.

Quincey seemed to think about it for a while and then said: “You would definitely win.”

Evan grinned and Dawn smiled but then his expression turned more serious, and he asked: “Why did you let him stay?”

Quincey shrugged. “I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

~

Everything went mostly without an incident although Olympia did throw a glass bauble at Evander when he dared to laugh at Tess's joke too merrily in her presence. Dawn thought it was funny, but the queen informed them all that the bauble had been a gift from the American ambassador and now he would wonder why it doesn’t feature in any of the royal photographs.

Back in his bridal suite™️, Dawn exchanged a few messages with his friends back home. Well, back in Bristol since this was home now. It was late, too late, with Dawn’s early morning looming threateningly in the horizon.

the bristol squad; panda: wait cunt evander is back?? panda: NO panda: COUNT panda: autofill1!!! maxim: oh my god rocky: 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 dawn: where’s the lie panda: it was a typo nym: no it wasn’t jimmy: it was a freudian slip

Just when Dawn was putting his phone away, he heard a knock on his door. He crept out of bed, wondering whether it was Evander, come to assassinate him. Suddenly it made perfect sense why he had come back, acting all humble and apologetic. He certainly had some devious plan to kill Dawn and get the throne. Just in case, Dawn picked up a decorative candelabra on his way to the door. When he opened and was instead faced with Quincey, dressed in his pajamas and a fancy dressing gown, he hid the makeshift weapon behind his back and smiled.

“Quince!”

“What were you going to do with that?” the king asked, half puzzled half amused.

“Defend myself, of course, your palace security is lax, I know that from experience.”

“Dear lord…” said Quincey and grabbed Dawn’s face, kissing him. Dawn pulled him into the room and maneuvered the door shut. Quincey took the candelabra from him and deposited it on a nearby side table.

“Jesus, you could have killed someone with that,” he said.

“That was the idea, although I was expecting it to be Evander.”

“Why would Evander come to your rooms at this hour?” Quincey inquired. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“To kill me, of course.”

Quincey laughed. “Of course.”

“Are you allowed to be here?” asked Dawn.

“Well, no, technically not.”

“Ooh, naughty,” Dawn teased.

“But I wanted to see you,” said Quincey with a soft smile.

Dawn, not immune to Quincey’s smile, kissed him and pulled him to bed.

~

The next morning, Dawn was dressed to the nines in the custom made Alderlian wedding outfit insisted upon by the queen. He felt like a complete fraud.

“It’s magnificent,” said Pince.

Rosa was frowning but remained silent.

“I can’t wear this,” said Dawn. He couldn’t even name all the different items of clothing involved.

“You must,” said Rosa. “It’s a symbol of Alderlian continuity.”

“No, it isn’t,” argued Dawn. “I want to talk to Quincey.”

“The king is busy, at the moment,” said Pince. “But I’ll make sure to note down that you want a word with him.”

“He’s going to be my husband and I need to schedule a meeting with him?” Dawn asked. He tried his best to remain calm, but this was all getting ridiculous. He wondered what Quincey was going to wear for the ceremony.

“Help me get this thing off, I need a break,” said Dawn and Rosa rushed to help him remove the outfit. None of it felt right.

~

The kitchens were empty, since it was some time until lunch, but breakfast had long since been served. Tess set a big, steaming cup of tea in front of Dawn and sat opposite to him.

“You’re my hero,” Dawn said.

Tess gave him a smile. “This is all a bit…”

“Much,” finished Dawn and Tess nodded, sagely.

“Have you settled in?” Dawn asked.

“It’s definitely been interesting to spend so much time with Evan, of all people.”

“Are you getting along?”

“Sure, I always liked him,” said Tess.

“That’s a relief,” said Dawn. “I didn’t realize they wouldn’t let me drag you two everywhere with me.”

“We’ll be fine,” Tess reassured him. “I’m just a little worried about you, though.”

Dawn sipped his tea carefully, as to not burn his tongue. “I feel like it's not my wedding. All this pomp and circumstance. It's like, at this point, I'm almost dreading the big day.”

“Marrying into royalty, of course there’s always going be parts of your life that won’t be just your own, but I think there’s a reason why the king fell in love with you, and it wasn’t your complete adherence to rules and protocol,” said Tess.

“Honestly, Tess, I didn’t think I would ever get married, much less married like… well all this,” Dawn said, motioning around vaguely to everything around him. “But shouldn’t it be about… royalty or not, about being with the person I love, with... with all the people that I love there with me?”

“When did you get so wise?” asked Tess.

“I was always wise, you just refused to see it because you were bitter that I put glue in your hair,” said Dawn.

“That’s very true.”

Dawn took a deep breath. “Christmas without mum is always going to be hard. But getting married without her being there…”

“I know,” said Tess. “I always think about her when something big happens in my life. Like when I graduated or when I launched a new tea line.”

“I guess we're both feeling that, huh?”

“I miss her every day,” Tess said.

“Me too.”

“Which reminds me,” said Tess and dug something out of her pocket. “I was supposed to give this to you as part of your wedding gift, but I figured you might need something to watch your back before the big day.”

Tess took Dawn’s hand and put a necklace on his palm. It was clear quartz with a fine leather cord. Dawn remembered seeing it on Tess many times. Dawn’s mum had given it to Tess as a present when she started high school, to bring her luck, and Tess had worn it throughout the years, up until university and beyond.

“I can’t take this,” he said, immediately.

“Yes, you can,” said Tess, and closed Dawn’s fist around the necklace.

“It’s yours.”

“You need it more than me,” said Tess. “I don’t have any big, life altering events in my horizon.”

“Tess…”

“Your mum would want you to have it. I know she would.”

Dawn sighed.

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Then…” Dawn started. “Thank you.”

He pulled the necklace over his head and maybe it was in his head, but it did bring him comfort. It made him feel like everything was going to be alright.

“She’d be proud of you, you know,” said Tess.

“Would she?”

“Yes. So proud.”’

~

On the car ride to Olympia’s dress rehearsal, Dawn got a rundown of The Tale of Princess Froon.

“It’s a folktale,” Olympia explained to Dawn, Evan, and Tess, but mostly Evan. “The original is much more brutal than the version told to children. Kind of like Grimm’s fairytales. A fair maiden who granted Santa Claus his magical powers, sounds wholesome, no?”

“Very,” said Evan.

“Princess Froon was coveted for her ability to grant magical powers. One day she was captured by a big, hairy ogre named Grundel…”

“Like Shrek!” said Dawn.

“No, nothing like Shrek. Grundel traps Princess Froon inside a castle made of ice…”

“Like Frozen?” Dawn tried again.

“Not at all like Frozen, Dawn, shut up. Grundel was going to eat her for breakfast, when his pet turtle…”

“Turtle?” asked Dawn. He couldn’t resist.

“Yes. His turtle found a little baby in the woods. And when he brings the baby to the castle, she cares for it and nurses it back to health. Her kindness melts the ogre's heart, and he falls in love with her.”

“The end?” asked Dawn and Olympia threw a piece of confectionery at him.

“No,” she continued. “The ogre sets the princess free, so then she turns the baby into Santa Claus. And she kisses the ogre to say goodbye and thank you, and he turns into a dashing knight in shining armor. The end.”

“And it's all true?” asked Evan.

“Obviously.”

“Fair enough,” Dawn said.

“Honestly, it’s not any less mad than strange women lying in ponds distributing swords as a basis for a system of government…,” mused Evan.

“Who's playing the ogre slash knight in shining armor?” asked Dawn.

“Just the reason for my mother’s ire,” said Olympia. “Her name’s Gaia Alden, the daughter of baron Alden.”

“Oh,” said Dawn. Suddenly it made much more sense why Isabella was so against her daughter taking part in this play.

~

The thing about Olympia’s play was that it was completely put together by amateurs on as low a budget as possible. The entire idea was to collect money for the orphanages of Alderly so the children could have a nice Christmas, complete with a heap of presents. The participation of so many members of the nobility itself had garnered quite a high society crowd. It was all in good fun, for a good cause. Olympia had told Dawn that they’d pretty much done everything themselves from sets to costumes.

“Why must you trap me here, Grundle?” Olympia spoke her line. Dawn was no actor, but he found the princess’s portrayal to be believable enough.

“Your fair beauty hurts my eyes,” said Gaia Alden, donned in the mask of the fearsome ogre. “But that is not why I trap you here. I trap you here because I want your magic!”

“You cannot force me to use it. I must believe in my heart!”

“Then I shall eat you. And your magic shall seep into my flesh and stones!”

There was a brief pause in the action and Dawn, from his front row seat, could see everyone racking their brains for how to handle this.

“I think it's ‘bones’,” Olympia whispered.

“That's what I said, isn't it?” asked Gaia. As an audience member, Dawn would have bought stones hook, line, and sinker. Maybe Grundel was a stone troll.

“Never mind. Let's move on to scene 12.”

“Right, yes,” Gaia said, clearing her throat. She motioned to her prompter and had a brief discussion with him. Just as the director was about to call action, everything went dark. For a minute, Dawn suspected a blackout but then his phone buzzed. It was Quincey calling.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Dawn,” Quincey said. “The unions are calling for a general strike. Are you still at the theater?”

“Yeah, we’re here,” said Dawn, keeping an eye on Olympia, who was frantically discussing with Gaia and some others of her theatrical troupe.

“The theater workers are also going on strike, in solidarity,” said Quincey. “I’m afraid the performance is cancelled.”

“What? Does O know?”

“I have to go,” said Quincey. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Quincey hung up and Dawn was left staring at his phone, flabbergasted.

“O!” he called out, climbing up on the stage. “What’s going on?”

“I wish I knew,” said Olympia.

“It looks like the play is cancelled, Your Highness,” said Gaia, going through her phone, probably looking at news.

“Maybe they’ll get everything figured out before–,” Dawn started.

“The premiere’s tomorrow,” said Olympia. Dawn decided not to question why he hadn’t been made aware of this, same as many other things going on in Alderly.

“I’m sorry, Olympia,” said Gaia. “You made a brilliant Princess Froon.”

“Fuck,” said Olympia.

“C’mon, O,” said Dawn. “It’s going to be alright.”

“People are going to want their tickets refunded,” Olympia said. “But we used most of the money already. On the kids.”

Dawn put a hand on Olympia’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Come on, we have to go before your security detail thinks Miss Alden and I kidnapped you.”

“That would be bad,” said Gaia.

“Alright,” Olympia sighed, and they headed out of the theater hall.

~

“Merry Christmas, your highnesses,” said Gaia once they were outside. “For what it’s worth, I'm sorry we won’t be able to do the play. It was fun.”

Olympia smiled. “You made a brilliant ogre, Gaia,” she said.

“Thanks…?”

“And an even better knight in shining armor,” the princess added, taking both of Gaia’s hands in hers and leaning in to kiss her cheek. Something about the gesture made Dawn avert his eyes. Gaia left in her own car and Dawn and Olympia entered theirs.

“Fucking hell,” Olympia said.

“Can the crown pay the refunds?” asked Dawn.

“Not easily.”

“Well… shit.”

“Mother did tell me not to do this,” Olympia said, leaning her head back against the leather seat.

Dawn thought about all the hard work Olympia had put into making this play happen and an idea began to formulate in his mind. “Most of your crew is just your friends and peers, right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“What if we did the play at the palace?” Dawn suggested.

“What?”

“What if we just cleared room and put up a stage for the play so then you wouldn’t have to refund?”

Olympia seemed to think about it for a moment. Eventually, she said: “It could work.”

“Yeah?”

“I think it might. Oh my god, I’m texting the idea to the guys right now,” she said and took out her phone, starting to type. Dawn grinned. Maybe the Christmas play could still be saved, but then there was still the country.

tag list: @lifeofkaze, @gcldensnitch, @endlessly-cursed, @cursed-herbalist, @magicallymalted

(ask if you want to be included or removed)

[k-kasuga]

I love the Headcanon lists that people make of the characters they love, so I wanted to do it too. (I apologize in advance if there is any strange phrase. My English is somewhat rusty, besides that it is the first time I do something like this.)

Here is somes of my headcanon of Domas and Bebin, of Ousama Ranking, Ranking of Kings.

Domas

He is very sensitive, he feels very intensely, but due to his position and rigorous training, he trained to contain his emotions and not make them obvious.

When he "murders" Bojji, he begins to lose control over them, and can barely contain them, exploding into random rage, self-harm, and spontaneous crying. (Shit, I think this is Canon, LOL).

The assassination attempt on Bojji left him with a - untreated, medieval period without therapists -PTSD.

His haircut was less a pragmatic act to avoid being perceived and more a panic attack that he suffered when he was left alone, after leaving Hokuro.

He usually has phantom pains on his right hand, but he accepts them and doesn't go to calm them down because he believes he deserves them and they are a constant reminder of his sins.

Bebin

It's very gossipy.

No joke, your snakes? Yes, he uses them to take care of the princes, the castle and his king... and he also uses them to know the little gossips of the castle. Does the cook have problems with his wife? Bebin knows it. Does any servant have poor health? Bebin knows it. Does any maid suffer harassment from her companions? Bebin already knows. And depending on the seriousness of the matter, he intervenes directly or indirectly, because after all he is a kind guy, you know.

Although it is gossip never comment on the problems or secrets of others without their permission. Being someone who works and lives in the shadows of inconsistency, he understands and respects privacy and discretion a lot.

He would like to share his hobby of snakes with someone, who sees them at the same level as him, and not only as a military use or a mere pet. He found someone like that in Prince Bojji, but due to being his brother's guardian and that because of his rank it would not be good to treat him with familiarity, he never took the first step in talking about snakes with him.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Dark! Aemond X OC (Snow Falls) Chapter 23: The library. AEMOND POV

You are Willa Wyldewoods, lady of Wyldecrest. After being denied your hand in marriage, Aemond murders your family and makes himself Lord of WyldeCrest, out-powering you. He claims you as his wife and spoils, He commands and goes over your home now and as you will learn right now: No one is safe under his reign. Not even you

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Aemond being a doom-tourist, Aemond being a dark tourist, Aemond being fasinated with the deaths of dozens, Aemond cursing, Aemond hating Viserys, Aemond being stabby-happy, Aemond being traumatized, mentions of miscarriages, mentions of aboritions, Aemond suffers from paranoia. Aemond is unfeminstic, Aemond is dark!, Aemond is unforgiven, mentions of non-con, rape, and other unpleasant things

Aemond's pov

In reality, Willa is still asleep. I do feel less in need of her feminine charms. I wash my hands with a sigh, rubbing the cum away with a towel. I redress myself and make my way to the library, to continue my studies. I do often so, when I can't find sleep.

I am greeted by guards and let in. I sit down on my favourite spot by the fireplace and select a few books about the doom. It always fasinates me. How far such a beautiful civilisation could fall only because of their own greed. Perhaps I have inherited some things from that old fuck that sired me. Perhaps more than I like to admit.

I hear someone approach me and instantly I reach for my dagger. I rise up from the chair, jumping up ready to stab whoever dares to oppose me. A habit I have taken from my lovely wife's home.

It is Aurelia. I put the dagger away with a annoyed groan. I would prefer assassins over her anytime. She sways her hips and smiles at me as if she won. "I told her about my child." There is nothing I hate more than a problem already solved returning to be a problem once more. And Aurelia is a problem.

"Did you?" I hum, faking interest. The only reason I am hearing her out and not dragging her off by her hair to cut her in pieces for hurting and touching my Willa, my little sweet fox and making her cry is that I want to know what she told Willa.

"Yes. How your brother forced me to give birth to my dead child." Ah yes. Aurelia was once a sweet, innocent young woman... Until she met us, that is. I got tired of her gold digging and fake moans rather fast, yet I doubt Aegon ever did. He always had a soft spot for the whore.

Even now I hear his pathetic drunk voice in my head. I am never free of that demon, so I fear. "Aemond, I don't understand why you don't take Aurelia into your bed more often." Perhaps I don't want my brother's hand-me downs. I have had plenty of those. There is one hand me down I am interested in, it is entrusted with rubies and is made of Valyrian steel. Or perhaps there are two. That, and a certain beautiful iron chair that is waiting for me downstairs. I deserve to rule this realm. Aegon never had what it takes. He spits on duty and sacrifice.

Me? I know everything about the two. I had to sacrifice my own eye for my dragon. I have never turned my back on my duties, always preformed them with dedication as a true king would. No matter how unpleasant or boring.

My blood cooks from within my veins. She wishes to scare Willa. She wishes to break us apart. I scowl. "How is that my problem, exactly? If you stayed loyal to me, you wouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place."

She scowls now too, her pretty whore face getting ugly. I smirk, statisified with her anger. "How could I have possibly rejected him?! Your protection was nothing compared to what you give Willa!" I sigh.

Because Willa means something to me. I haven't figured out what this is, this constant need to be with her, the constant need to protect her and the bloodlust that is unleashed in my head when anyone as much looks in her direction. It makes me want to crack skulls and take heads. No one ever made me feel that strongly before. Yet a doe eyed maiden from the North? She turns all I know into uncertainty. She is the answer. But to what question?

"You are a jealous whore. Do you envy her? Her beautiful pure soul? She never had to work a day in her life. You did. Your soul is rotten from the poverty and the whoring you did. Willa eats meals you will never taste. She wears gowns made of fabrics you'll never feel. She is everything. You are nothing." I finish brutally making her tear up. Good.

I smirk, leaning in close. I smile at her, caressing her face. "You see, slut. Willa is a beautiful gorgeous and educated lady. She is my wife. You? You are a unedacted disgusting dirty little brat that outstayed her welcome already."

She slaps me, and I'll admit it is impressive for a woman. "I told her. She will see in time just how cruel you are, Aemond Targaryen." She vows as if I will allow her to be around to see this happen after what she did just do to me.

I feel my burning cheek. I do not become angry. I fake a smile but from within, I feel a hunger, only skull cracking, and blood spilling can solve. "Yes," I mutter absently. "I fear you are right about that, at least. But by the time she does, it will be far too late for her."

Aurelia is clearly conflicted as to how I feel about Willa. The stupid whore thinks it is all so black and white. So easy. That once a man falls in love with a woman, he must drop all his personality to make his conquest happy. I spit on that idea. I always have. "O... You see, I do truly care for Willa." I tell her, and for once it is the truth. I do. I wouldn't feed and cloth my little fox if I didn't care for her. I wouldn't have died for her if I didn't care for her. And I surely wouldn't have allowed her to orgasm and come as hard as she did, if I didn't care for her.

I put the books back in the shelves. They do not deserve to be dirty for what comes next. Willa is my precious little fox. I made a vow to her today, though she did not understand it. I take my vows rather seriously. Aurelia gulps.

I smile coyly before picking my dagger back up, advancing on her. "You are not leaving this room." I tell her. "You hurt my precious fox. You will pay for that with your life." I promise her before. She takes off running, to the doors. The guards do stop her for me and I smirk advancing slowly as a predator.

She is held for me. "How dare you two! I am a special friend of the king!" She whimpers. I shrug at her words.

Aegon likes her now. But love is fickle as a flame when it comes to him. One moment he promises her the seven kingdoms, the next he is ignoring her for months perhaps years. My guards hand her to me.

I take her over and for her cowardice when facing her destiny, I cut in her face drawing a ugly scar similar to my own. She cries when undergoing my torture. "Shut up, little cocksucker. Shut up. This is the beginning. Keep your voice for when the real fun begins."

She growls at me when I lay her down and start undressing her, taking my knife and slowly start petting her gigantic big tits. She made Willa insecure. I will never forgive her for making my precious fox insecure. She is above her by miles. "Aemond; your rape causes her more pain than any of my spankings. It was done to me as well. I never hurt the girl on purpose." I feel my lips scowl.

I grit out. "I don't rape her." She likes it. She enjoys it. She loves it. She would die for it. Willa enjoys what I give her and she clearly enjoys what only I can give her. I am her husband and my wife has needs only I truly understand. No other lord or man or even a god would be enough to satisfy the girl. She is mine.

"Not anymore. You did once. She has never forgotten. I see the fear in her eyes whenever you show yourself. Your real self. Not this perfect little princeling. But this rotten beast that died when they took his eye from him." I have never hidden from her who I am. Never. Not once. The little fox cried during our first few times, who wouldn't? I had murdered her family, ran them through and chopped them up in little pieces to be send around the kingdom as a warning. But her cunt...

O, her delicious little cunt. Her hardened nippels and her soft begging eyes whenever I would allow her to feel my length down her cunt, fucking it, showing her a wife's true purpose....

She loved that. I would be a fool to not notice how much my fox loves having sex with me. And none of it comes close to rape. None.

I kiss Aurelia, pretending to fuck her against the walls. "You want the beast? I'll give you the beast." I warn her.

She moans, the slut. I bite her neck first. She likes that. She always did. "You want to drive a wedge between me and her?! You want to take the one thing from me that brings me joy?! You will never leave this place alive slut." I warn her as I grab her left breast and my knife.

A whores breasts are her biggest selling points. She is nothing without it. She won't hold Aegon's attention once I mutilate her. "S-stop, Aemond..Stop. the king..I am his favourite. His special golden flower -" I spit on that nickname and her begging.

And I spit on my brother and all those who declare him king. He is no king. He is a shadow of a ruler who never will measure up to the greatness others see in him. "I will kill my brother, my damn self, in front of the entire kingdom to see if he comes close to her again. I will drink from his skull, and I will gift my Willa his eyeballs for hurting her." I whisper so the guards won't hear. Her eyes widen.

Now I don't have a choice but to kill her. She begs me, rubbing my cock through my pants. "I don't want to die..." no one does, do they? Yet if we kept every traitor alive, the world would become too full. It is good to clean away the weeds every now and then. It keeps the world healthy and a happy place.

I smirk. "You'll finally be with your daughter again. Isn't that a sweet comfort?"

"You beast!" She twists me between the legs. I choke her in return, taking my dagger and chop off her left nipple for her. I drag my dagger to her cunt and start slashing at it, watching as she cries and bleeds out on the sofa. I take no pleasure with it and start to rip her open from her cunt till her throat, as if she is a gift I am unwrapping.

What did she told my perfect little fox? I just started her lessons and she finally understands how it works. I am her husband and she will do anything for me. Tonight only confirms that my little fox loves me deeper than any cut I've given this whore that dared to touch her. I sigh. If Willa proves to be trouble once more, I will show her once more that she best behaves around me. I don't mind getting a little rough anyway. She does as well.

I cut off Aurelias head. I have plans with it. To the guards I give them a order. "Have a maid clean this mess up. Her body may be displayed on the spikes. Do me a favour, make sure her cunt is cut up lose and is impaled on a spike as well, right below the King's window. I wish him to see it."

I take the head with me and start walking to my brother's chambers.

[societalenemynumberone]

Author's note: I have been so obsessed with Hazbin Hotel. As soon as the first season finished I ran to Tumblr for fics. So like please send me asks for Hazbin Hotel I need to let my hyper fixation out on something. I am open to writing headcanons

Tw: ???

"Your insecurities are one hundred percent valid and you deserve a break to recuperate for your mental health." Twyla called out from behind the door Rayna locked herself behind. "That being said, I almost risked a deal with the Radio Demon to get you this meeting with the princess of hell. So you better get your ass up and out of bed or I swear to Satan I'll give you a real reason to hide inside your bedroom. You fuc-"

Twyla's threats were then accompanied by her muffled angry screams and banging on the door before forcefully being dragged away. In her place, their soft-spoken assistant, Fleuretta. Because of her adamant fear of talking, she talks to people she's close to through their mind, a power she was granted after death.

"Yes, Ms. Twyla. Of course I'll talk to her Ms. Twyla." She cleared her throat before gently knocking on the door. "Miss Rayna? We all know that we've been through, uhm, as you've said, a "shit-ton" this past month. Your breakup has negatively affected your emotional state and all of this house. But when this negativity starts to negatively affect the business then the house has an even bigger problem."

"You see, Benson and Sebrina have been at each other's throats with all the tension you've been carrying throughout the house the past few weeks. So Twyla and I think it's for the best if you put your emotions to the side for a temporary amount of time so we can attend this meeting with the king."

Rayna sniffled on the other side of the door, wiping the dripping mascara off her cheek. "Yeah- *hic* Yeah I can do that-" She got up and unlocked the door, sticking her head out a bit. "Gimme like 30 minutes, I'll be ready by then."

"You got 10!" Twyla's voice came from down the hall, a flying dress shoe following her words, hitting eerily close to Rayna's poking out head. Rayna rolled her eyes before slamming the door shut, leaving Fleur standing in front of it.

Fleur gave a small huff before going to check on the children, bringing up her tablet to check off "Make Sure Rayna Gets Ready" off her to-do list. When Twyla and Rayna became business partners and moved in together, the kids who they died with were pulled into their mess as well.

Benson, Twyla's teenage little brother, in 1976 he had gotten involved in the gang shit Twyla had to deal with when she was alive. His death was supposed to send a message to his sister. Obviously, it didn't send anything since she came falling into hell a year later.

Then there was Sebrina. Rayna's psychotic little niece. Poor thing was abused by her mother for years before she ran away in 1966 at 7 years old to her Aunt Rayna, who happened to be in a very competitive business. As a thanks for taking her in Sebrina got rid of Rayna's competition through cannibalism. When Rayna found out she wasn't the happiest about it but she covered up the murders for 3 years. Until they were caught in 1969 and shot down by officers for resisting arrest.

Fleur knocked on their shared bedroom door. "Kids? Are you ready?" There was muffled yelling behind the door but nothing like Twyla and Rayna's overly loud constant loud arguing. Fleur sighed before twisting the doorknob, dreading what's on the other side.

Benson was trying to suffocate Sebrina with a pillow, she was obviously trying to fight back but the demon form she was given was short and had thin, small little limbs. These were just some of the attributes Sebrina got from her demon form plus her new bunny qualities.

"Benson! Will you get off of her!" Fleur pulled him off by his tail, a trait from his humanoid lizard form, an animal form he got from dying.

"That freak tried to set me on fire!"

"She is not a freak." Fleur picked the small thing off the floor by her armpits, like a puppy. Before straightening out any wrinkles on the dress Rayna specifically made for her and fluffing up her skirt.

"I did not try to set him on fire." Sebrina folded her arms over her chest, raising her head up, offendedly. "I tried to set his outfit on fire. It's ugly!"

"Oh you 'li-!"

"Benson. Don't." Fleur stopped him before he started, leaving him grumbling as he started to put on his shoes.

"Sebrina, sweetie, people prefer it when you try to burn their clothes while their clothes when they're not on them." Fleur clarified, pulling Sebrina into her jacket.

"Oh no, I know that Miss Fleurey. I just don't like Benny." She sneered at him on his bed.

"Fleur!" Twyla called, stopping the kids from getting into it again. She stepped into the room, wearing a suit with a corset over the shirt and a loose tie. "Rayna ready?"

"Probably not." Fleur handed her her jacket. Before being able to say something else Twyla caught Sebrina's beady eyes staring at her. "What? I don't look nice?" She gave them a quick 360 with a smile.

Sebrina narrowed her eyes. "...You look...nice..."

"Ya look like a pimp." Benson had his eyes on his phone, not even bothering to look up at his sister.

"Don't start with me ya little shit. Now c'mon. I want us all to be sitin' in the living room like we been waitin' for hours. Make her feel all bad 'n shit." She grinned, rushing the others to the living room, banging on Rayna's room door as she passed.

They were in the living room for about an hour before Rayna finally exited her room.

"How do I look?" She grinned, posing like she was on the runway. Her purple hair was put up in a low side bun and she was in a sleeveless turtleneck dress, rhinestones on the criss cross lining that showed off her thighs.

"Great!" Fleur smiled, checking "Get Everyone Together, Ready in the Living Room" off her to-do list.

"I like the rhinestones!" Sebrina awed at the shine on her dress.

"You look like a...a sexy Morticia Adams. But like, with purple hair." Benson grinned.

"We an hour late. Le's go." Twyla walked through the door, not sparing Rayna a glance. Everyone following her out.

Not proofread!!!

Author's note: Ok, so this was like way longer than I originally thought so I'm going to split it up into parts if people end up really liking this. And again I will take most requests for most fandoms, not just Hazbin Hotel, plus my own original stories