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stardancerluv · 22 hours ago

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What the Emperor Wants

Part Fourteen

Summary: Passions arrive before tasks of marriage come to the Domus of Geta and Caracalla

Notes/Warnings: 18 & up👆🏻, Very smutty…& squint some angst & fluff!! A handjob, mentions of climax (female & male!) fingering, squint its exhibition since it takes place on a throne. Old, retro mentions/beliefs of old god/goddesses. Retro views of women.

❤️s, reblogs, comments & feedback are always welcome!

“Geta.” His name was your breath as you exhaled with the pleasure his lips brought you.

He glanced at you from around your hand.

You reached and gently, nestled your fingers to his short curls. They were rebellious from the hood that had tried to stifle them. Continuing to hold your wrist, he held you close as he continued to kiss your forearm, occasionally you’d feel his teeth.

“Who knew, the sweetest blossom in Rome could make me feel good just with a mere touch.” His voice had deepened.

“Being astride you, Geta such as this and the feel of your lips makes me feel great pleasure as well.” You kept running your fingers through the fiery curls.

He pressed his lip against your wrist before placing your hand back to where it belonged in your lap. His face grew serious, he looked off to a distance you could not see.

“Geta?”

“Leading up to our ceremony. We will have to be reasonable, chaste even in our relations.”

You had heard what was expected. You had seen of the marriage of one of your brothers and a cousin, and yet all of this was never what would imagined. You were left wondering what now was meant for her or the two of them.

“I will follow and do as you wish.”

His eyes moved back and looked at you. A smile curled his lips. His hand cupped your cheek. “I chose so wisely with you.”

“Thank you.” There was something you were curious about but you knew better now than to question him.

“Speak, blossom.” A soft edge entered his voice making it echo in the small throne area.

You took a breath. “Promise to not take my head.”

You said the words lightly, but there was a small snare of worry.

He rose an eyebrow. “For the moment.” His smile returned.

Good spirits continued to fill him, you mused.

“You have led us down our path. Why can’t we carry on such as that?”

He nodded. “We are very much doing that. Though there are some things that bring us good tidings and blessings to our marriage.”

You brought a hand to his thigh.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together at your touch.

“Is there anything we should accomplish or relish in specifically?”

His lashes fluttered against his cheeks before he looked at you once more. “We do have some time before a new day dawns. Before we allow the world, the people of Rome are told of our betrothal.”

“Yes. That is true, Geta.”

Taking ahold of your hand he slipped it into the folds of the fabrics he wore. You gasped as he brought you to his arousal.

Your fingers wrapped around his length.

A soft sound came from Geta’s lips.

You looked at him concern filled you.

“That feels as it should. I will show you.”

His breathing deepened and shorten. His much larger hand enveloped and guided yours.

Pleasure began to fill you as you felt as he appeared to grow within your hand. Passion had filled his face, his eyes were aflame.

“Geta, shall I lay down for you?” Though, you truly did not want to lay on the cold stone, and be like a common dog or animal. For him, you did not truly mind. You would always follow his lead, wherever it may take you.

“No, we shall stay here.”

He swallowed, another soft moan poured from his lips.

“It will be our tribute to the gods and goddess as close as we can.”

Your heart squeezed. It made the pleasure you were already feeling twist in an unexpected, pleasurable manner. He was growing more breathless.

Glancing down, seeing his hardness as it slid and move between your fingers and a soft sound escaped from you. You could remember how it felt inside of you.

His hand slipped from yours as his lips twisted into a smirk briefly. “You relish the sight of your emperor, your future husband?”

“Yes.” You swallowed. “You made me feel so good.”

Your fingers tightened before loosing and continuing to move up and down his length.

“Your body welcomed me as it should.” A smile appeared on his face. “I need to look upon my blossom.”

His hands easily, opened your stola. Your breasts, your body was bared to the cool air. Some of your curves were still cloaked by the fabric.

“Does it miss me?”

How he looked at you, made you tremble. Once again your fingers tightened around him. The sound that poured from his lips caused, a pleasurable ache once again to grow in you. It was a pleasure he brought to you. You could never imagine not knowing this pleasure given to you from him and the heavens above.

“Yes, Geta.”

His hand was warm as it rested on your thigh. “Open yourself to me.”

As you opened your thighs, you felt as your cheeks warmed. His hand easily slipped between your thighs. A moan softly, came from deep within you as you felt his finger tips merely graze you. You trembled and shifted on his lap.

“That’s my blossom.” He trembled as you felt his body tightened once again.

When you had felt him like this before while you lying as one, you had felt something. His seed had filled. You wondered if you would feel it now.

“Yes. Relish the pleasure.” You shook as you felt his fingers tease your opening.

You remembered how he had quicken his pace when he was above you. So you moved your hand as such.

“That feels so…” His voice trailed off, his body shook before straining against you. A moan poured from his lips.

You gasped as his seed spurted from him. Several ropes erupted from him, as he moaned and shook under you. His body jolt with each spurt. The sounds that came from him gave uou that pleasurable ache once more. His head tilted back. He closed his eyes, his chest was heaving.

“Geta?”

*************

He licked his lips as his heart thudded hard.

“Geta?” Your soft voice reached his ears.

Opening his eyes, he was met with concern awash on your face. His lips twitched with a smirk as he took you in.

“Blossom. Look at you, I have filled you with my seed and now I have covered you.”

He tilted his head to one side taking in the sight before him.

“I’m yours.”

Eyeing a cloth, on side table he easily snatched it up. Easily, he moved quickly and tidied you up. He tossed away the now soiled cloth.

“You are that.”

He could feel a fresh knot of passion tighten in him. How was he to avoid, being close with you before the ceremony. Looking you over, he swallowed.

He drew close. “Shall I touch you here? As you have touched me?” He made a soft thoughtful sound. “Would it make me weak?”

He felt a slight tremble come over you as he spoke. As you caught his eye, he could see the passion that burned in them.

“Geta, you will never be weak.”

“I cannot allow myself to be ensnared by passions even if it is with a woman who shall be my wife.”

You let a seriousness fall over you. “You make men whither with fear.”

Your breath caught as he drew his hand between the softness of your thighs.

“The man who had the desire to snuff out the flame that burns within you, cowered with fear.”

“That is true.”

He moved his hand so he cupped you. “Your mound, is beautiful like the rest of you. A soft temple of love and passion all for me.”

“It’s yours.”

He enjoying seeing how breathless you grew because of his touch. Remembering how you moved, sounded so he touched your little bud once again.

“Oh Geta.”

He heard you manage to say before a moan poured from your lips.

“So my fingers can make you feel good too?” He slowed his touch.

You trembled under his touch. Licking your lips, you nodded and whimpered. “Please, please;” You begged. It made the knot in his stomach tighter. “Don’t stop it feels so good.”

“Since you begged me so nicely.”

He watched, as he touched you more firmly like he had before. Your cheeks had a rosy flush and in the flickering flames your eyes shone with your passion.

You trembled and called out, a moan that caused him to bit his bottom lip. It was delicious to his ears.

You were soft and wilted in his arms like flower petals. He watched as you regained your breath, your eyes fluttered open. That feeling, you had brought to him was back. It almost stole his breath. He let his fingers graze the line of your jaw.

“And now, we shall retire for the night.”

You easily got up from his lap.

He adored watching how you fretted over your dress. Standing himself, he said easily pulled you close.

“I am grateful the gods brought us together. May they continue to bless the two of us in our coming union.”

“Yes. The gods have been kind, I send them my gratitude.”

*******

Geta, stopped and went to where he knew some bread was kept. With it in hand, he went over to alter for Vesta. Gathering, his clothes he knelt before. He was pleased to see the candles were alit and flickering. He ripped the pieces of the bread. He laid them down with lowered eyes and murmuring his appreciation of her and what she had planned for him and you.

Not long after he was pleased to see his guards were alert and stood, very straight outside the door of his chambers.

“Gallus. Can you go in and make sure no one is lurking in the shadows.”

“Yes, sire.”

*******

Once back in your room, you went to the window and knelt. Peering up at the crescent moon, you whispered your prayers to the powerful Luna, to grant you fertility in the coming marriage of Geta. You truly hoped you could take his seed. You laid a hand on your belly. Your imagination grew before you. A baby boy of his would look so beautiful. He would have his father’s strength.

Pleased with your prayers, you finally removed the pins and ribbons that held your hair in place. You placed them on the small table that also held your brush and strigil. In a transparent shift, you sighed as relaxation finally came over you. Going over to your bed, you pressed a kiss to the ring on your finger before crawling into the bed.

Moving till comfort finally found you, you let yourself melt into the blanket and pillow. Moments from the day shifted before you; the carriage ride to Dondas coming over to you and those last moments with Geta lingered. You could still feel his touch. With memory of him still fresh; sleep finally came over you.

******

Geta, glanced into his room as Gallus, walked in wide strides around the room. With a sharp turn, he came back to him.

“There is no one. May sleep bring the peace and rest that is needed.”

He nodded. “When the sky turns purple, please take some food and rest. I will want you near, later after the second meal.”

Gallus, clapped his chest and nodded. “Advised, sire.”

Once the door was closed, Geta relaxed. He stripper the last of his clothes. The cool air felt good on hid body. Walking to his balcony he looked out at the expanse of Rome, his Rome. He felt fantastic. Just as he was about to turn and retire to his bed. A flurry of feathers, black in nature settle near him. After some shaking and appearing to settle itself, he saw that it was a crow that had indeed decided to pay him a visit.

“Hello, mighty crow.” He tilted his head and looked at it. It did the same to him. He smiled and the crowd let out a loud cry.

“Thank you for your visit.” He paused, taking in the crow’s beauty. “I will show my gratitude and thankfulness at my alter.”

He glanced over at where he saw the crow, wanting to see it a final time and he did. He smiled. Shortly, afterward the crow shook its feathers and then easily took off into the night that was black as him. The moon barely gave any light tonight.

His excitement had calmed despite you so easily reigniting his passions. Lying down, echos of your pleasure echoed in his heart. You, were lovely and pleasing. You would give him the future of Rome that none other can give.

*******

You do not think there will ever be a day that passes, where you accustomed to life in the Domus of Geta and Caracalla. The bathing was just that more special with the oils that were so pleasing you felt as if you had become a flower yourself or how the ribbons, and curls were twined and twisted in your hair.

You paused by one of the larger columns, to take it all in. The sky was clear, sun’s warmth drifted in and the flowers that drew were flush with their freshness. Their scent making the air delightful. From where you hid, you watched people you had never even see before.

Taking a breath, you gathering yourself. Today was a new day, back in Rome. You could already feel how different it was from the country side.

Today, was your first day as the emperor’s betrothed. You had to take Aelia’s reassuring words given while she looped and twined your hair into a new look. You still did wonder where she had run off in such haste. Life was already so much busier here in Rome than in the country side.

Though, as you reflected back onto your betrothal with Geta, and your spirits already began to loft. It made any of your other thoughts of unease float away.

Feeling as a hand gave you the extra guidance you needed, you made your way to the Triclinium.

“My Blossom.” Geta stood from the sofa he had been reclining on, as you entered. A smile spread across his face.

He ushered you to the sofa beside him. “Plans are already being set in place.” He said once you sat down.

“Wonderful.”

A figure came in with a shadow shortly after you. You looked in the direction. It was Tertia, you had finally remembered her name. Your stomach knotted at the memory. Seeing her once again, did not bring you contentment.

Reaching, you grabbed a plush, and pleasing looking strawberry.

“Is there anything you wish to drink?” Her voice, intruded in your thoughts as you watched as she gave Geta his glass before turning her attention to you.

You were about to reply when Aelia, arrived. She looked flustered

“Yes, Aelia.” Geta took a sip from his glass. “Do you have news from any of the dispatches?”

“We have heard from your mother.” She turned and looked at you. You paused and didn’t take a second bite from strawberry you held. “Yes, we have heard from the village you were born in.”

Your heart quickened its pace.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @laura-naruto-fan1998 @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @justalittlebitshy @aspiringcokewhore

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sodamnradd · 18 hours ago

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“You’ve been ignoring me,” said Malfoy, sidling up next to Hermione in the library.

Her hand froze on the spine of a book. “What?” She glanced at his hurt face, baffled.

“After we… you know.”

“What are you on about?”

“The party on Friday night,” he said, growing irritated. “You came back to my room.”

“Nobody’s around to laugh at your jokes,” she snapped, certain he was messing with her. “Go away.”

He staggered back as if something dreadful had occurred to him. Then cleared his throat and left without a word.

Later that afternoon, Hermione found Ginny in the common room. “Did you go to that party on Friday? With all the Slytherins.”

“It wasn’t just the Slytherins.” She grinned. “But yeah. I told you to come.”

“What did you get up to?”

“Nothing too wild. Some drinking games. Harry and I ducked out early, but I heard some people were messing around with party potions.”

The next morning, Hermione sat with Luna in History class. “You were at the party on Friday?”

“It was fun,” replied Luna.

“I heard some people were taking…” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “…special potions.”

Luna’s eyes twinkled. “Fantasy Elixir.”

“What’s that?”

“It makes your wildest fantasies come true.”

Hermione’s eyes veered towards Malfoy sitting alone several rows to her right. “Was it consensual?”

“I think Pansy spiked the punch,” said Luna, unbothered.

“So some people didn’t know their… fantasies… never happened?”

“I suppose it’s possible. Depending on how wild the fantasy might have been. I skinny-dipped in the moon’s craters.”

Hermione stopped Malfoy outside class.

He gave her an impatient look. “What?”

“About Friday…” She began, and his stare grew suspicious. “What did we do exactly?”

“I wasn’t in my right mind.” He tried walking around her, but she followed, blocking his path.

“I kissed you, didn’t I?” she said.

Confusion flickered in his eyes. He glanced at the buttons of her shirt.

She touched them. “And you took this off?”

“No,” he replied, watching her undo the top button. “You did. Just like that.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She dropped her hand. “And you… touched me.”

He leaned down, whispering into her ear, “I spread your legs and tasted your sweet little—”

She gasped. He grinned, and she saw a devilish look in his eye. “Or maybe that never happened,” he mused. “Tell me, Granger, would you let me do that?” When she didn’t answer, he stepped even closer. His breath warm on her cheek. “Would you like it?”

She stormed away, hot and frazzled, as his laughter echoed down the corridor. Prick.

Finally, Hermione went straight to the source. “Were you drugging people at Friday’s party?”

Pansy sat on the ledge of a stone fence; her bag leaned upon a gargoyle. “Of course not.”

“Malfoy told me about it.”

Pansy pursed her lips. “It was harmless.”

“It was completely inappropriate. He saw me naked—”

She burst into laughter. “What?”

“He said…” She flushed, mortified to repeat what he said. “That we did some… vulgar things.”

Pansy’s eyes glittered. She raised her voice, gaze falling upon an object behind Hermione. “Sure. If taking you on some corny ride on his broom and kissing you beneath the stars is vulgar. Remind me, Draco, did you also profess your love?”

Hermione whirled around to find Malfoy standing behind her, hands white knuckling his broom. He was redder than she’d ever seen him, eyes shooting daggers in Pansy’s direction. His gaze shifted to Hermione. She watched his throat move as he swallowed. “No.”

Pansy hopped down from the fence and grabbed her bag. “Well then, here’s your chance.” She skirted around them, pinching Draco’s arm with a wicked smile on her face. “You’re not hallucinating this time. I promise.”

(630 words, cross-posted from bsky)

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #dhr #dramione drabble #sodamnrad #sodamnraddrabbles

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acehazbin1 · 9 hours ago

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Okay hear me out on this for the one and Only Emperor Caracalla. If you like this one- I might get confident enough to send another request for Emperor Geta lol. I didn’t see a rules- sorry -so if this goes against any just ignore this message lol.

Okay so I’m thinking you could do a fic or two of Caracalla with a motherly reader. Whether they’re a maid, concubine, etc. They just adore him “my sweet boy” and such. Sorry if this sucked LOLOL

“Motherly love.”

I loved this request! Sadly I didn’t see it straight away, but it’s a great idea!!

Notes: sorry if this is horrible I was in a rush! Also about the other series I’m working on the 3rd chap just been a busy January!

Mother!Reader & Caracalla (not romantic)

Cybele= Roman god of motherhood

……..

Emperor Caracalla was only nineteen when he took the throne alongside his twin brother, they were both immature and unfit to govern the Roman Empire. Yet somehow two years in Emperor Caracalla and Emperor Geta remained on the throne, sure Rome was starving and the wars were never over but he still held the power in his hands.

People thought he was ruthless, a real human being could never see the suffering on the streets and continue to throw banquets and parties. He must be a monster with a stone-cold heart… yet in the palace, many workers knew the truth. One in particular knew nearly everything about him if anything minorly or majorly impacted his life she would be the first to know.

“Cybele, Cybele!” Caracalla called out into the open space that was the fountain. She was washing sheets in the fountain, it was her duty as an assistant nurse to wash the bedsheets of the care beds. “Emperor, I wished you reframe from calling me that. It is disrespectful to Cybele.”

Caracalla's eyes found her and he started to make his way over towards the fountain. “Ah, but you are the goddess herself to me.” Caracalla flashes his golden tooth with a grin. “I am not yet a mother.”

“By blood no, but by your actions, they say otherwise.” Caracalla twisted his head a bit, she nodded her head while reaching into the water and twisting the sheets around. “Why did you come down to the servant's area? Did you have something to say?”

“Oh yes.” Caracalla eyes light up, “I thought Dungdus a new trick!” Caracalla whistled for the monkey and she came flying down the stairs. Caracalla patted his shoulder and the monkey climbed up, he then stuck out his arm and Dundgus climbed out. The brown monkey hung upside down on his arm for a few seconds, before jumping off.

“Oh, that was delightful.” She made sure to clap and smile, and he highlighted her comments. “You think so?” He stepped closer, “yes of course.”

Caracalla grinned from ear to ear, he sat down on the side of the fountain letting Dungdus run around the servants’ area. “I can teach her more tricks if you like?” Caracalla mused, which made her shake her head. “Only teach her trick if you want to, you don’t need to impress me.”

Caracalla's eyes went away from her face and he fidgeted with his shelve. “I- I don’t want to impress you…” He didn’t want to admit it, she felt her heartstrings tug. She dropped the bedsheets she was holding and cupped his cheek with her palm. “Oh my sweet boy it’s okay.”

Her voice was like honey, it smoothed him while sick in the head. Many times her voice was one of comfort when he had to visit the nurse, she sat by his side whispering things of comfort to help him through his mental anguish.

He nuzzled into her palm, as he whispered, “Geta tired to embarrass me infront of the senate today.” He would normally complain about Geta, his mind would twist the things that Geta did to protect him into horrible acts of envy. “What did he say?” She asked.

“He said that he should be the one to look over the spending of the army, but we both agreed that would be my job.” Caracalla said with his voice laced in spite. “Your bother can-“ “and when a senator implied that I was useless he didn’t even stand up for me!” Caracalla cut her off with more angrily whispering.

She wave him a dry look, “Caracalla.”

“It’s so unfair-“ “Caracalla.” “he always does this!” “Caracalla.” “I know he’s going to-“ “CARACALLA.”

She raised her voice which made him wide eyed and tensed his shoulders. He was so caught off guard by her yelling, he was used to Geta or the crowd at a game yelling but a servant wasn’t supposed to yell at him. Specially not you.

“I’m sorry you interrupted me, we talked about this before.” The maid said and rubbed his cheek trying to ease him out of his shock. She didn’t mean to yell at him, just hated when he never listened to reason.

“You- you yelled at me…” Caracalla choked, his eyes watered a bit as the shock wore off. “Shsh, I’m sorry.” He pulled away from her hand, as she tried to move it closer. It wasn’t like him to move away from touch, “Caracalla please.”

Caracalla feet tapped the group, his eyes switched back from the fountain to the palace. His head was spinning, he tried to push himself off the little wall he was sitting on to keep the water in before her hand held his wrist. “Caracalla listen to me.”

“I did not mean to yell, you did not mean to interrupt me. It was a miss understanding.” She breathed out but he looked away from her eyes trying to figure out if he should believe her words. “I- I…”

She got up quickly allowing the basket to dump into the fountain. She would deal with that later, she pulled him so he was turn around. He looked a bit terrified by the fact he was dragged back to her but she wrapped her arms around him.

It took him a second, his eyes still wide and wet, his hair messed up and his palms were shaky but he melted into her grip. He nearly let his hold body fall, it was slightly scary for her to hold up his body weight but she was just glad that he forgave her.

“My sweet boy.” She held him tight, “I’m so sorry,”

#comfort #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #caracalla x you #caracalla x reader #fanfic #gladiator caracalla #gladiator movie #gladiator ll

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notomys-mordax-blog · 11 hours ago

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Regrettably, I have not gotten all of my feelings about Veilguard out of my system. I've decided to cope with this by continuing to post novels regarding my thoughts about the narrative. Since I'm generally here for the characters, I'm organizing my thoughts on a character-by-character basis. I'm going to include my general opinions about the characters, things I liked and disliked about their involvement in the game, and thoughts I have about how I may have improved upon their narrative or things that might have made their stories more effective (for me).

Part 1 Lace Harding

Overall: 5/10

She's a really cute character with an adorable design. Say what you will about the change in art style, but I find the ladies of Veilguard to be absolutely gorgeous. I also liked the visual storytelling that we had with her design. I could really imagine her adding the little embroidered details to her clothing while away on a scouting mission.

Lace is our returning companion. When this was revealed, I thought that she was a good choice. She was a fan favorite in DA:I and struck the right balance between being familiar, without having too much pre-existing plot that would need to be incorporated into the story. She's the cute girl-next-door, with some really interesting undertones of having been raised in a farm with all of the bloody pragmatism maintaining a farm requires.

Before we dive into her story arc, I think it's worthwhile to address her personality. While I don't disagree with the sentiment that she'd be different around Rook (a co-worker) versus the Inquisitor (a literal holy figure), I don't think they've struck the right balance between bubbly and cute with the salt-of-the-earth pragmatism we saw when she was younger. This feels odd, because the situation in veilguard is just as, if not more, pressing than the situation in inquisition.

The romance between Taash and Lace didn't really do it for me. I think there are some interesting parallels between the characters, specifically they are both bicultural (although have very different experiences with what this entails). I also think it's interesting that Taash is very much a person who has gotten comfortable with their own anger, while Lace (who hypothetically has this anger) isn't comfortable with letting her friendly and bubbly mask drop. I like the implication that Lace is the kind of person that people underestimate and mischaracterize, Taash has a very direct kind of sexuality that seems at odds with the "girl-next-door" persona that Lace usually carries, but unfortunately I just didn't buy the chemistry between these two.

Her story arc consists of getting whacked with a magical MacGuffin and obtaining mysterious magical powers. These powers reveal the painful history of the dwarven people, in which the proto-elves magically lobotomized their ancestors in order to create physical bodies. The dwarves in the DA series suffer a problem that seems pretty common to a lot of dwarves in fantasy series. They have the most fascinating lore and interesting culture, but they never really seem to fit properly in the narrative. The role of the Deep Roads with the wardens helped tie Orzammar to the main conflict better in DA:O, but one of the main problems I had with Harding's story was that there was this really fascinating lore reveal that has been hinted at since the beginning of the series, but it's never really tied back to the main conflict. There is essentially a throw-away line in which harding muses about how messed up it is that the entire economy of modern dwarven society is essentially (unknowingly) mining the bodies of their ancestors.

The end result is an interesting narrative beat that doesn't really hit right. It feels disconnected with the main conflict, and literally absorbing her race's entire ancestral trauma without any real consequence or impact on her characterization. I'm of the opinion that the lore reveal was really interesting, and something that the series has been building up for a while.

This is where I'd put my thoughts about Lace's Faction, if it existed

Lace is the only companion who doesn't belong to a faction.

She's also well positioned to be a bridge between South Thedas and the North, she could have acted as a proxy for the player and been used to explain differences between how the previous games characterized Northern Thedas (especially Tevinter!) and what we experienced. While I believe she has a line or two about how poorly elves are treated in the south, I think this was a largely underutilized aspect of her character.

This post is already upwards of 2k words, so I'll save a more in depth analysis of my feelings about what happened with Southern Thedas and the Inquisitor. Let's just say that I laughed (negative) when Emmrich and Harding decided to go on their camping trip almost immediately after I received notice that the South was completely overrun with Blight and on the Brink of collapse.

I think part of my longing for a dwarven faction is that in fantasy stories, dwarves often have super cool lore that isn't really explored. DA:O was a bit of an exception, because of the importance that the Deep Roads had to the story, but in the later games ... it doesn't really feel like the dwarves are super related to what's happening in Thedas. With all of the big worldbuilding reveals about the Titans, it would have been nice to have a dwarven faction, and Kal-Sharok is right there. I've been dying to see more of this society since they were first introduced, and I feel like they really would have been an interesting thematic inclusion, given that the entire world is in danger of being blighted. I go into more depth about why I think a dwarven faction would have improved Lace's story later.

How would I fix this?

Whenever I find something narratively unsatisfying, my brain immediately jumps to fix-it mode.

So I think the first problem has to do with the characterization of Harding. As mentioned earlier, I always understood her as being a character who is outwardly really bubbly, but also very ruthlessly pragmatic. I don't think this characterization was really well portrayed in Veilguard. Making it more clear that Lace has a brutal side would really go a long way in making the Titan's anger and grief feel more impactful, and making it more clear that she has some darker impulses that could make her embracing her anger dangerous. We get a taste of this in some of her banter's with Taash, but I think I would have liked to see her act on some of these impulses. It's odd that Neve and Lucanis are the only companions who can be hardened. This feels like a perfect place to Harden Harding (heh).

So, we tweak Harding's characterization and add some gameplay impacts. Better, but Harding's story still feels like it's dangling in space.

My first impulse was that Harding was the wrong character to tell this story. Narratively, the story doesn't really take advantage of her connection to the Inquisition or Southern Thedas. After all, Lace Harding is a surface dwarf with no real connection to her dwarven heritage, she identifies much more strongly with being ethnically Ferelden than being dwarven. Furthermore she is the most devoutly Andrastian member of the party. Surely a character who identifies as more ethnically dwarven would be better suited to tell this story, why was the Lace chosen when Dagna was right there?

Given the overall narrative of Veilguard, I think the best way to make the story of the Titans feel connected to the main plot would be to have a dwarven faction as described above. However that would involve some heavy narrative shifting. Without shifting too many major beats, I feel like Harding's story could have been made much more impactful if we were asked to choose "what's next?" for her. She's been given the burden of learning traumatic ancestral knowledge for a group of people she's ethnically related to, but not culturally related to. I think it could have been much more interesting if we gave Taash's choice to Lace. Once the Gods are defeated and the heroes can go home, what does she want to do?

Taash will probably get their own novel later, but I found it really thematically goofy that the thematic thesis of their character involves "gender isn't a binary, but culture is (apparently)". While thinking about Taash and Lace as a couple, I considered that one of the commonalities the two characters have is the fact that they are visibly part of an ethnic minority that they don't really fully relate to. If anything, Lace would probably experience this to a greater degree than Taash because she's a surface dwarf. Unlike Taash who was raised by a person with a very strong connection to their culture, Lace and her mother feel very integrated with Ferelden society (as mentioned, they've even adopted the majority religion of the region).

Does Lace Harding return to her mother and the country that she obviously loves, or does she embrace her role as an "oracle" and return to dwarven society (either Kal-Sharok or Orzzamar would have worked)? Unlike Rivaini or Qunari culture which could easily exist in a blended capacity, the cultural taboos of dwarven societies could explain why this needs to be a binary choice.

I also think that this could have made the choice to sacrifice Harding a little bit more impactful. Part of the reason why it hurts to lose Davrin is that you lose Assan too. I think if it was more clear what Harding's future looked like, it would have been more impactful to lose it.

Closing Thoughts

Lace Harding is a good example of a few of the problems with Veilguard. Taken on her own, she's a likeable and fun character, but her characterization feels somewhat shallow compared to what is right there, simmering underneath the surface. Objectionable aspects of the character are smoothed down. In Cullen's bad ending it's implied that Lace straight up mercy-kills him! My girl gets stuff done (with a smile, even if those things are ... emotionally challenging) If you squint you can kind of see that the implications are still there, but it's so subtle that it truly feels like head-canons are doing the heavy lifting.

As an aside, two aspects that I think negatively impact Lace's character are the general omission of the Chantry in Veilguard's story, as well as the narrative decisions made around the Inquisitor and Southern Thedas.

Her freckles are cute tho.

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers #datv #datv critical #veilguard critical #bioware critical #dragon age critical #dragon age review #lace harding #character analysis #seriously I did not mean for this to be so long #but the thoughts just started flowing and I couldn't stop #dav spoilers #I really prefer dav to datv da entries should be three words #sorry I don't make the rules #You came here for fanart and instead you have 3k essays about a game I have complicated feelings for.

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celtigxr · 2 days ago

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THE PINK DREAD - CH. 31 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: All gather in the Throne Room to hear Ser Vaemond Velaryon's petition. Never a dull day at the Red Keep. Word Count: 6874 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Show canon scene. Violence, gore, slut-shaming/misogyny, bit of angst, canon death, fat-shaming/fatphobia, bullying mention, depression/mental health mention. Lots of fun things.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I'm BAAACCKK. Hope everyone had happy holidays and a great new year. Mine was adequate, nothing to report other than get a lil annoyed at the bf. But that was overshadowed by a band I listen to dming a happy new years. I won't say who, because I'm trying to manifest something rn, and I don't want to jinx it. but hint: 😴🚶🐕🐈 Now, this chapter still is around the time I was really struggling to write. Re reading it, it's not entirely as bad as I thought it was, but you might be able to tell where I was getting frustrated and losing my muse. Or not, idk, maybe I hid it well.

There was nothing more intimidating than the Iron Throne when it sat unoccupied. It was almost like the ghost of Aegon the Conqueror still lingered there when the current king did not, watching and judging his dynasty before him. Valeana wondered if this is what he imagined for his line of Fire and Blood; had he predicted his grandchildren, and great grandchildren to fight amongst themselves? Did he predict that his heir to be a woman, where a son with his name stood idly by? Did he predict that his legacy would be put into question?

Valeana also wondered if Targaryens would have ended up this way, had it been Visenya’s line that survived, and not her sister’s. Perhaps their people would not see them as weak, as they once thought of King Aenys.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds,” The Lord Hand spoke after the King had descended upon his throne of iron and war. “We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.”

His words were not appreciated by those that suffered for this petition. Valeana stood by her family, who stood behind Alicent and her children. The Throne Room was not at full capacity, but the Lords of the Great Houses had gathered, some with their wives, some with their heirs. The Baratheons, the Starks, the Hightowers, The Arryns, the Lannisters, the Tyrells, the Tullys, the Greyjoys, even representatives from the Martells were present. The Realm knew what this moment meant – It was not just a petition over who would inherit Driftmark, it was a petition to prove or disprove that Rhaenyra’s three eldest were illegitimate. Bastards. It would not only take away Lucerys’ inheritance, but Jacaerys' and Joffrey’s. If that happened, the Realm may very want Rhaenyra to be removed as heir to the Throne as punishment for her carnal transgressions, and effectively move the line of succession onto Aegon the Elder, bypassing even her legitimate fair-haired sons she sired with Daemon.

“The crown will now hear the petitions: Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” Otto stepped away, and all in the room watched with bated breath as Vaemond moved from the spot he stood next to his uncle’s wife and grandchildren and took his place at the foot of the dias.

“My King,” he bowed, then looked upon Alicent and Otto. “My Queen, my Lord Hand.” His eyes return to Viserys, whose face was already set in stone, his lips thinned and already showing his disapproval. Alas, Vaemond’s confidence was bordering on delusion, and did not let that deter him in the slightest. Valeana took a step forward, putting herself just behind the backs of Aemond and Aegon, so she could have a better look.

Aemond slightly turned to her, a silent look that communicated everything. He could not yet show his affections publicly – he had not taken the time to converse with Maris just yet to end their very public courtship (even if it had grown apparent that it was dwindling). Aegon, however, took pleasure in taking advantage of that fact, for when Valeana appeared at his side, he wove his arm around hers and laced her fingers with his own.

Valeana wasn’t entirely sure what horror show she should dare to look at: Vaemond’s petition, Aemond’s fury, or her brother and father’s heated disapproval behind her.

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria,” Vaemond began his speech, hands clasped in front of him as he not only spoke to his monarch, but to the audience, to the lords and ladies of Westeros. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas.”

Not entirely true, Valeana mused. House Celtigar and House Velaryon ruled ceremoniously, while the latter was more naval and militant, the former was more in trade and piracy. Though that last bit was more of an unsavoury historical anecdote that her father will never acknowledge.

“When the Doom fell on Valyria, House Targaryen, House Velaryon and House Celtigar became the last of their kind. Our forebears came to this land knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name

“I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my uncle’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins–”

“As it does in my sons, the offspring of Leanor Velaryon,” Rhaenyra spoke up, interrupting the knight without remorse. Her face was remarkably neutral despite the bite of her words, reminding everyone in the grand room of her sons’ birthrights. With eyes trained onto the floor ahead of her, she went on, “If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir.” She said this now looking at him directly, and Valeana could only watch, enraptured and captivated by her strength and conviction. “No, you only speak for yourself, and for your own ambition.”

“You have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Otto interrupted, overlapping the princess’ words. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

King Viserys was rubbing his eyelids, already tired and weary. Valeana watched his face carefully as Vaemond continued his speech, claiming that Rhaenyra did not know a thing about Velaryon blood. Eyes darted around the room, as she watched Jacaerys catch Aemond’s eye, and Lucerys watched Vaemond with contempt. Daeron looked impossibly uncomfortable, eyes flickering around to everyone to gouge how he should react. And Aegon… Aegon simply shuffled in his spot, free hand moving to scratch his jaw.

“This is bloody torture,” she heard him whisper. The only thing she could do was give his hand a squeeze in response and he gently squeezed back, rubbing his thumb over the back of her palm.

When it was Rhaenyra’s turn to petition, her words were cut short when the King placed up his hand to halt her.

“I must admit my confusion,” his words were laced with exhaustion, but with an underlying strength of a king. He had been patient, polite and courteous as he allowed Ser Vaemond to speak, since he did come all this way to do so. But now it was his turn, and he intended to speak on behalf of his daughter and Lord Corlys, the latter of which could not speak on his own behalf. “On why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

His statement was met with a second of strained silence before he continued, moving his head around the crowd before settling on his cousin. “The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, your grace,” The Queen Who Never Was spoke once everyone had settled their attention onto her. Her eyes flickered from Vaemond to Rhaenyra, then she moved over to place herself at the foot of the dias, before the Throne that in another life, would have been hers.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Leanor, to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him.”

Rhaenys’ confession garnered a group reaction of surprise. It was under the assumption that the older princess had always disapproved of Rhaenyra the moment each son she birthed looked nothing like hers, and the circumstances of Leanor’s death seemed to put a rift between the like-minded princesses. Though it now seemed that bygones had become bygones.

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire for her son, Luke, to marry Lord Corlys’ granddaughter, Rhaena… A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Hushed chatter befell the Throne Room. Rhaena and Luke shared a look with each other, subtle smiles upon their youthful places. This development certainly put a wedge in Ser Vaemond’s petition. He cried about blood purity, and yet here the solution laid plainly in front of the Kingdom. For those who believed that Luke was a bastard, the seat of Driftmark would no longer belong to the Velaryons in name only. Rhaena held that blood from her mother, and what's more, their children would be dragonriders, with their matching Targaryen blood between them.

Valeana was quick to notice Vaemond’s displeasure and shock.

“Well…” Viserys lifted his hand dismissively, “The matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Just when people believed matters were settled, and the chatter started up again, Vaemond stepped forward after Rhaenys stepped back. “You break law and centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon–No,” he shook his head minutely. “I will not allow it.”

The King furrowed his brow, mouth popping open at the man’s gall. “Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

This is where things had taken a turn for the worst. When Vaemond shook with anger, Valeana knew that all sense was lost. At the shout of “That!”, she startled next to the princes. Aegon turned to her slightly amused, and Aemond had moved closer to her until their shoulders touched.

Vaemond pointed viciously at Lucerys, who surprisingly shrunk under the angered man. “Is no true Velaryon, and certainly, no cousin of mine.”

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra whipped her head to her son, who also vibrated with emotion, lip curling over his teeth as if he wished to lash out on his own behalf. Then she turned to Vaemond, “You have said enough.”

Lucerys didn’t move, but his step father still kept a hand on his shoulder.

“Lucerys is my trueborn grandson,” The King spoke lowly. “And you are no more than the son of the second son of Driftmark.”

“You may run your house as you see fit,” Vaemond bit back. Valeana held her breath, finding herself squeezing Aegon’s hand. “But you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned,” He swiveled back around to glare at the boy again, as if he were the reason for all his troubles, and not the adults that surrounded him. “I will not see it ended on the account of this–” His lips folded in between his teeth, and the air in the room stilled. Then as the slow seconds went by, Vaemond’s face relaxed, as if he could lose no more than he already had.

“Her children… are BASTARDS!”

“Seven Hells,” Valeana breathed out. The entire room was filled with loud murmurs, the King himself leaned forward on the Throne, his anger building in his chest, as weak as it was.

“Oh, this is turning out to be quite the show,” Aegon whispered, his words laced with mirth.

A horror show.

A very horrific, bloody show.

“And she is,” Vaemond continued, punctuating every word as he burned his eyes onto Rhaenyra, then Daemon, and then finally the King. “A whore.”

The chorus of gasps filled the Throne Room. Everyone paced around, looking at each other in disbelief. Valeana glanced up at Aemond and saw his smirk, no different to Aegon’s. She knew of the princes’ animosity towards their half sister, who coveted all their father’s love, but as a woman, she could not help but feel disgusted by their reactions. With one glance of Helaena, she was relieved to see that she did not approve either, and when the two princes noticed their disapproval, their smirks dropped. At the very least Daeron had the decency to look scandalized, regardless of what his opinions were of Rhaenyra.

The king ascended from his throne, his cane forgotten as he reached into his cloak and pulled out the cat’s claw dagger that was always strapped to him.

“I will have your tongue for that–”

Valyrian steel sung in the air, swiftly and without mercy. The sound of blade cutting through flesh and bone dirtied Valeana’s ears, and the sight of Vaemond’s nearly headless body slumping on the floor now seared into her mind like a brand. Never before in her life had she seen such violence. Not even her fall down the stairs could compare. She had thought she would be impervious to such displays, having seen her own bone out of her flesh, and then watch her leg rot away before it was severed off with a saw. Though that was nothing in comparison to seeing a man’s head chopped off from his cheekbones, leaving his jaw and tongue atop what remained of his head.

Helaena had turned away with her hands placed upon the sides of her head, her mother Alicent on her protectively to shield her from the gore. Daeron’s eyes widened in shock and horror, his hand flying to the sword on his belt as if it was muscle memory. Behind Valeana, Shyla and Floris both screamed, flying into the chest of Bartimos and their mother, with Clement shielding them from it. Arthor merely stood agape, the first time he, too, ever saw such an act.

Valeana had jumped away, retching her hand out of Aegon’s in the pursuit to put herself as far away from the corpse as possible. It was Aemond who moved in front of her, hand upon her arm to keep her behind him, whilst Aegon stood like a statue, lips pulled into a frown and eyebrows up to his hairline, staring at Vaemond’s lifeless body as if he could not believe what he had just witnessed, what he was actively staring at.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon stood there, hand placed on the pommel of Dark Sister.

“Disarm him!” The Lord Hand shouted, the Kingsguard poised to attack.

“No need,” the Rogue Prince replied casually, using the ends of his black tunic to wipe the blood off his sword and sheath it back into its scabbard.

Valeana tore her eyes away at last, blinking away rapidly, as if that would rid her of the image. It was then she brought her attention to where her hands had found rest. She gripped onto Aemond’s sleeve, both of her forearms caging his arm to her chest like a shield or a life preserver.

“Valeana,” Clement’s presence loomed over her shoulder, his large hand firmly on her bicep.

Valeana followed Aemond’s arm until she reached his face. He stared at her with a wide eye and a gritted jaw. His fingers flexed at her own sleeve, not wanting to let go either, but they were not in the privacy of their library. It took all her courage to let him go from her vice and allow Clement to pull her into his orbit.

But when Valeana tore her eyes from Aemond, she landed them on Aegon, who saw the whole thing. His face was crestfallen, but only for a moment before his features pulled into a scowl, eyes glaring up at his younger brother.

The petition had inevitably delayed the anticipated dinner of the Valyrian Houses, of which Vaemond had been invited to, mostly out of respect. It would be pushed to the next evening, as everyone was collectively in a state of shock and displacement.

Valeana longed for solitude, she wished to be tucked in the reading nook of the late Aemma Arryn’s library, or laying in a nest of cushions and furs on the secret platform amongst the cliffs. Though for now, she settled on her bed chambers. Shyla was absent, she seemed to disappear after the Throne Room, along with Daeron it seemed. She was particularly distressed and the prince was concerned for her, leaving poor young Floris in the wind. Gods, Borros Baratheon is going to absolutely loathe the Celtigars after this Conclave was over with.

Valeana was sitting cross legged in the middle of her bed, embroidering an image of a milkweed plant on a dark grey canvas. She intended to give the loop to Helaena as a thank you for her part last night. It was still such a bizarre recollection, that now felt like it was eons ago. Seeing a man’s head lopped off from the middle would do that to someone.

Still, she wove every memory she made that night into the fabric of her mind. From the moment she saw Aemond splayed on the chair at the table, to that very morning when the warm orange glow of the dawn reflected against the silver tresses of his hair and pearlescent complexion of his skin. Valeana had woken up before him, and she took that privilege gently, savouring every moment.

Aemond had tucked her under his arm at some point, and she was nestled on his upper arm, hand slayed on his chest while his nose nestled in the crown of her hair. They were both lying on their sides, legs tangled with each other, his hand resting on her hip and thigh. With gentle fingers, she traced the lines of his jaw, his nose, his scar, the gnarl frame of his sapphire eye, and brow, and then his lips that were parted as he breathed gently. Valeana noted how the skin around his perfect lid was red, the corner had a little sandy crust as if his eye had been tearing up during the night.

With boldness, her hands moved southward, running along the muscles of his chest and stomach, humming in satisfaction at the warmth and feel of his body. It was art, truly; every ridge and curve, every bone and muscle, expertly carved by the Smith himself, designed in the likeness of the Warrior.

Aemond roused from his sleep when her fingers trailed over the area below his belly button. He blinked away the sand from his good eye and gave a soft, grumbly hum.

“Still not convinced I am a man?” He questioned softly with a hoarse, sleepy tone before his hand moved to her wrist and guided her to the crotch of his breeches. Valeana gave a soft gasp, or more of a hitch in her throat. She could feel him through the fabric and while he was soft, the muscle twitched at the contact.

“Aemond–” He interrupted her with a peck on her lips, moving his hand up to the curve of her jaw to keep her there, so he could stare into her eyes. And that is where they remained until there was a knock on the library door, and Helaena’s gentle voice reminded them it was time.

Valeana sighed contently down at her embroidery. Basking in the perfect evening and the perfect morning was enough to drown out the macabre events of that midday. Now the image of Aemond’s hardened body and Aegon’s thick cock permated her mind, creating a warm stir in her core. Alas, she was still bleeding, and she was not going to risk getting blood under her fingernails and all over her sheets to satiate her carnal hunger. Besides, there was a knock on the door, effectively ending her lewd thoughts. Clearing her throat, she called out: “come in.”

Clement entered the room, closing the door behind him as he did, “How are you doing?”

She offered him a half shrug, “Fine, I suppose.”

Her brother took a seat at the edge of her bed, his body twisted so he rested his knee on the mattress, where he could look at her properly. “You’re doing remarkably well for someone who just witnessed their first execution.”

“I do well with gore, I suppose. Finding severed feet on the beach on a regular basis could desensitize you to it,” her jest came out awfully stoic, as if she was serious. Though Valeana tended to joke when she was on the verge of anxiousness or sadness, if she wasn’t already thrown into the maelstrom of a fit.

“And watching yours decay whilst attached to your body,” Clement added, his dark humour similar to her own.

“Hm, that too. Perhaps the Stranger’s mark on me still lingers.”

He hummed in agreement, unserious in his consideration for the statement. But then his face fell, and Valeana geared herself up for the real reason why he was there in her room.

“Valeana…” He looked down on the bed, where his hand laid flat. He drummed his fingers on the duvet, like he was stalling so he could find the right words, or to rein in his censure. “I feel like you have become a stranger since we arrived at King’s Landing. You have been pulling yourself away every day from our family…and I can’t help but believe it is because of the princes.”

Valeana leaned back into her headboard with a sigh, her loop forgotten in her lap. “Clement, I have been a stranger to this family for years…” Her eyes drifted over to the balcony. The Hydrangeas that Aemond left her were now placed in a vase next to her bed.

“Not to me,” he shook his head vehemently. “We are full blooded siblings, Valeana. You and I have a bond that cannot be separated.”

Val tilted her head at him, a single eyebrow raised, “Clement, for half my life we were separated. I was here, and you were on the Isle with Ursula and Arthor. I am twenty, and yet I’ve only ever spent half my life with you, brother, and during that time I spent the better part of it locked in my rooms, despondent and longing for death.”

Clement let his head sag at that, then raked his fingers through his short silver hair. He did not like dwelling on that dark part of her past, it still made him feel like a failure of a brother that he was not there for her when it happened, nor was he able to coax her out of the abyss in the aftermath. He reached out then, placing a hand on the ankle of her prosthetic, and although physically she could not feel it, the phantom of his touch tickled in the back of her mind as if she could.

“You are the closest thing I have to mother, you know,” he said quietly, thumb moving along the ball joint. “I might have lost her, but I gained a sister in her stead, in her very image. I vowed over her grave that I would protect you, and I have failed thus far… I do not wish to continue that path any longer.”

When Valeana felt her eyes begin to water, she shut them immediately and bowed her head till her chin laid on her sternum, “Clement–”

“I saw you,” he said a bit forcefully. “You held Aegon’s hand one moment, and then clung to Aemond the next. Whatever it is you are doing, you must know it will end in heartbreak. Please, for your sake, sister, let them go… Jacaerys is an honourable man, who can offer you a great future–”

“I do not love him,” the words came out before she was able to filter them.

Clement furrowed his brow as he tilted his head at her disbelievingly, “Then who is it you love? Aemond the Blackhearted or Aegon the Whoremongerer?”

Sorrow was quickly being pulled into frustration. Valeana shook her head, “You only know the princes by their reputation, you do not know their character, the way they are with me–”

Clement pulled away, scoffing loudly, “I know Aemond is the cause of your first heartbreak, the reason why you walk with a wooden leg, and I know Aegon is the cause of your self hatred and the reason why you hide yourself from the world. This is all I need to know… So excuse me if I cannot fathom why you wish to consort with either of them, let alone harbour feelings.”

Valeana took a steady breath through her lips, her eyes closed to ground herself in the darkness behind her lids. “They have both reconciled with me.”

“Oh, they have, have they? When will they seek out father’s forgiveness then?” His question took her off guard. “Father was just as hurt as you were. He ended his friendship with the King over it… let go of his position on the Small Council, and left King’s Landing. Do not think you are the only victim here, sister.”

“Please leave, Clement,” she ran her fingers over her eyes, where a headache was starting to bloom.

“I will not. I am not going to let you ignore the truth, Valeana… You have been causing an immense amount of stress on not only Ursula and father, but our sisters and brother as well. Everything has been revolving around your scandals, your love life, and it has put poor Shyla and Floris on the backburner. Floris, the poor thing, weeps at not being married still at her age. How do you think she feels seeing her step sister being the centre of attention? To have this many men flock to you and not her?”

“Floris,” she nearly yelled her name. “Floris is the reason why people whisper about me! Her insecurities are not my bloody problem, Clement! She could have been married off years ago, but she lets her pride and narcissism get in the way of it.

“She envies me, that is the truth of it. It’s always been like that – do you even notice the comments she makes of me? Floris is just as terrible as Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys was to me, even worse because we are family! It has been like that my entire fucking life with that woman… And you, father, mother, Arthor, and Shyla choose to ignore her belittling comments about my figure, because of what, Clement? Because you do not wish to cause strife among family? To choose sides? Or is it because you all believe her? You all agree I’m too fucking fat, but unlike Floris you keep your opinion behind your buttoned lips and avoidant eyes?”

Valeana did not give him room to respond, if he had any intention to, if he had any strength to. She pulled herself from her bed, embroidery loop forgotten, and slipped her feet into her shoes. Then, she bent down and secured the shoe’s strap around her wooden ankle, mindful to not run off on insecure shoes like last time.

“Where are you going?”

“Since you refuse to leave, I will,” she marches over the door, and pulls it open with a violet jerk.

“And which prince will you flock to?” He is standing up now, looking at her retreating back.

She paused in the threshold, her hand flexing on the handle of the door. “Neither,” she replied flatly, then slammed the door on him.

When Valeana left her family’s wing, she had spotted Ellyn and Wylla walking in the gardens arm in arm from the loggia above. She fled to find some corner of the Keep for solitude, but when she saw them, she craved friendship more. They were whispering about something, giving each other looks that Valeana could not quite make out from where she stood. When she called out for them, they looked up, completely startled. Their bodies pulled away from each other as if they were caught committing a crime.

Valeana tried not to think too much about it, especially since her thoughts were already at full capacity. Though as they sat in the grass, underneath a cherry blossom tree, away from courtiers and servants, Valeana couldn’t help but feel suddenly paranoid. The two were sharing looks with each other that she could not decipher, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they had been talking about her.

Eyeing them warily, she decided to test the waters, “You two seem quiet.”

They looked at her slightly surprised, with Ellyn the first to speak, “Sorry… That nasty business in the Throne Room, it… it was just not expected.”

Wylla hummed in agreement, “I’ve seen a few executions, done by my father… Never seen anything so savage, however.”

Valeana nodded, still unconvinced. Did they see her cling to Aemond after it happened? It was possible, though she was behind the Targaryen princes at the time, and she was fairly certain that people were more preoccupied by Ser Vaemond’s scalp rolling around the floor.

Narrowing her eyes, she decided to press further, a little more boldly, “Are there any more whispers about me?” At their collective confusion, she added, “Only because you two seem quieter than usual, and I’m starting to wonder if you’ve learned something unsavoury that I should be concerned about.”

Ellyn’s cheeks went pink, her eyes darting from Wylla, to the grass she was picking and peeling. They both shook their heads and cleared their throats.

This time, Wylla answered, seeming genuine. “No, nothing new. Only that bets have been challenged now that Jacaerys is in the running for your hand.”

Valeana rolled her eyes, “He isn’t. It was simply a brief moment in order to appease our parents.”

Ellyn raised an eyebrow mockingly, “So there we are back to two princes?”

Wylla tilted her head, “Or just one? I saw you and Aegon holding hands in the Throne Room.”

“Is that all you saw?” They both looked genuinely confused. It was a bit of a relief, at least she knew they weren’t gossiping about her clinging to both Aegon and Aemond so publicly and judging her for it. As of right now, Aemond and hers reconciliation was not public knowledge; as far as the court is concerned, he was still courting Maris, and it was only the whispers that breathed life into the rumour of him yearning for Valeana. It was… true, and well observed, but Valeana knew better to encourage the truth. Aemond needed to gently rid himself of Maris Baratheon, now more than ever. Having noticed how Shyla was slowly usurping Daeron Targaryen from Floris Baratheon, the tensions between Celtigars and Baratheons were becoming very tense, and it did not bode well for Valean’a own precarious circumstance.

Wylla’s eyes narrowed, “What else was there to see, Valeana?”

Val’s eyes flickered to Ellyn, who stared at her expectedly. She trusted this Baratheon with her past with Aemond, her feelings for him, but she did not know Ellyn’s relationship with her sisters very well. Did she approve of Maris’ match with him, or merely tolerated it? Would she choose Valeana or her sister? And the issue with young Floris and Shyla was a whole other added problem. The last thing Val wanted was to put Ellyn in a position of choosing between friendship and family.

After kneading her lip with her teeth in thought, Valeana tentatively asked: “Ellyn… Is Maris… quite fond of Aemond?”

Ellyn seemed quite taken back by the question, but otherwise she appeared almost like she was harbouring knowledge she had yet to share. With a great sigh, the brunette nodded remorsefully, “She is. I’ve never seen her quite smitten but… She seems a bit agitated lately. Ever since the Hightower dinner, which…I know you’ve told me about. Maris has given me her own version of it, as did Daeron when he visited Floris one afternoon. My sister was quite affronted. Her intelligence is her biggest pride.”

“So suffice to say she isn’t my biggest fan.”

Ellyn huffed a soft laugh, “An understatement really. Um, she has also noticed… Aemond has become distant with her, and she has deduced it may be your doing. From what I overheard from her and Cassandra yesterday, your step-sister has been insinuating that you’ve been trying to seduce him.”

Valeana sighed, rubbing the spot between her eyebrow and nose, “Of course she’s doing that. I somehow wonder if my beloved step sister has a plan, or she is simply lying freely, trying to see what people will believe and if it will ruin my character.”

“I am surprised you aren’t trying to seduce him,” Wylla admitted thoughtfully, regarding Ellyn’s statement, “Given what you’ve told us. Didn’t you want him back? Or…has Prince Aegon snuffed that flame?”

Valeana has done nothing but disprove the whispers about her and Aegon, particularly after the Hightower dinner when they publicized their (fake) courtship just to make Aemond jealous. It worked, though faster than she anticipated, and now she gathered how confused her two new friends probably were, given how much she had not shared with them since their last conversation about Val’s lovelife. The context between that drunken night to the present had not been divulged to them, and that was not just because she simply hadn’t the opportunity, but because she wasn’t accustomed to sharing vulnerable secrets. Valeana never actually had friends she could trust, she painfully realized; not since Aemond, and look how that turned out.

She glanced around them, making sure they were very much alone. They had trailed far from the path, hidden in the grassy knolls, underneath the cherry blossom tree, surrounded by hydrangea bushes of various colours. The bushes and florals do a good job at muffling their voices as well as the noises of the world outside of their little sanctuary.

Licking her dry lips, Valeana geared herself to confess her sins, hoping that they would not judge her too harshly for her weaknesses. Hoping that Ellyn would at most be impartial to Valeana’s hand at effectively ruining Maris’ chance at a royal betrothal.

“There is much I should– no, need to tell you. So much has happened…I do not know where to begin.”

Ellyn reached out and patted her arm, “Start from the beginning then?”

With a harrowing sigh, Valeana nodded and began her complicated, long tale. She tripped over her words and backtracked when she remembered information that added more context, but she recounted everything. From the moment Aemond pulled her drunken self out of the Throne room, to her eve spent with Aemond in Queen Aemma’s old quarters. Yes, she even told them of Aemond’s apology on Maiden’s Day eve. Valeana even admitted to Aemond ravishing her tits that drunken night in the passageways, the morning before the Hightower supper. Even told them about the night at the secret terrace with Aegon. She also mentioned how she lost her maidenhead to a bloody horse, which was her attempt at humour and alleviating the tense conversation.

In the end, her fingers were pressed in the corners of her eyes, head bowed over her crossed legs in exhaustion. Her head felt dull and heavy from a steady headache, one that began with Clement earlier.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed defeatedly. “This is all so new to me… All my life, I was prepared to either be a spinster, a septa, or a despondent wife to a lord that did not care for me. I never even entertained the idea that a man might… desire me at all, let alone two.” It was addicting, she admitted to herself. Selfishly she thought perhaps she could have them both, like Catelyn Redwyne’s story, but she knew that was impossible…Aemond and Aegon would never share her. They would spend the entire time trying to lay claim on her, like two opposing conquerors.

Wylla’s hand patted her knee comfortingly, “Your life never ceases to amaze me, Valeana. Most women would kill to be in your position.”

“I am not one of those women,” Ellyn commented good naturedly. “Though I admit that it is a privilege to be fought over by two princes of the Realm.”

Valeana pulled her hands from her eyes and blinked tiredly at both of them, “What would you two do if you were in my position?”

“Choose neither and become a Septa,” Ellyn shrugged dismissively, but at Valeana’s pointed look, she sighed. “Honestly, I do not know. I suppose I would try to figure out who I could not live without.”

Wylla nodded her agreement, “You will be spending the rest of your life with this man… I personally don’t think it is disgraceful to explore who you are compatible with, both emotionally and physically. Most of us do not get the leisure of testing the waters before we are thrown in.”

Val nodded, because she had no choice but to agree. It still did nothing to ease her stresses, though. “The problem is that my decision will be at the expense of the other’s pain. And I do not wish to cause anyone pain… Not even your sister, Ellyn. Even if – and forgive me for saying so – even if she is a pretentious bitch.”

Ellyn huffed, shaking her head, “Oh, do not worry, I don’t take offense to that. Maris loves to call me stupid whenever she gets a chance, so she deserves the insult.” Suddenly the brunette looked down at her hands for a moment, brow furrowed as if she was in a battle with her own thoughts. “I love my sisters, truly… I wish to see them contented. Though… I do not believe that the princes would ever give them the happiness they hope to have with them. I think Maris and our Floris both are blinded by their titles, of the little fairy tale of becoming princesses rather than actually understanding the gravity of it all.

“I saw immediately that Daeron is far too self-centered to care for my little sister truly, and she is far too meek to stand up for herself. He never asks questions about her, and if she does not ask questions about him, then there is no conversation to be had. As for Maris, well��she likes the idea of Aemond. Of someone who actually enjoys her mind, and shares academic conversations, but,” Ellyn lifted her shoulders in a shrug, “As far as I’m aware, they have not shared anything deeper. Though, I dare say, with all my sister’s intelligence, she isn’t particularly educated in matters of the heart. If it wasn’t Aemond, any man that showed an interest to her intellect and mind would be enough to convince her that they are in love with her.”

“That does not make me feel any better, Ellyn,” Valeana picked at the grass too, covering her skirts with it.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m trying poorly to convey something… What I mean is… Do not feel guilty about it. My sisters are not compatible with either Aemond or Daeron. Floris is young, beautiful, she will not suffer singledom long. However, I do worry about Maris, but not for reasons you think. Maris is not stable.”

With a furrowed brow, Valeana peered at Ellyn carefully, “What do you mean?”

“She does not like being insulted, which you did, but she also sees Aemond's sudden distance from her as an insult too. Maris is calm most of the time but, when she feels like she has been aggrieved, or humiliated, she is… reactionary, for lack of a better word. And with your step sister’s ill counsel… I fear she plans on doing something explosive to get back at you. I just do not know what, or when, or if it’ll happen at all. I just know my sister… And since you are my friend, I only wish for you to be cautious. Perhaps do not make your affections for Aemond so obvious, until the sky is clear, until Maris cannot do anything.”

Tentatively, Valeana gave a soft nod, “Thank you for telling me. Though now I have to deal with your sister on top of my own. Is there anyone else out there that is trying to sabotage me for reasons unknown, that I should be aware of?” She turned to Wylla, “Do you have a sister I do not know about that is plotting to kill me?”

Wylla softly laughed, “Gods, no. Well, I have a half sister. She is baseborn, but she is not here, anyway. Besides, we northerners have no interest in pretty white-haired princes with soft bellies or thin waists. We like our men towering, hairy, and smelling like a campfire.”

Ellyn wrinkled her nose at that, but otherwise said nothing.

Valeana hummed, lifting up her leg to rest her arm on her knee, “Your brother smells cedarwood and raw masculinity, which also smells a bit like roasted venison. It does things to me.”

“You still try to covet my brother even with two Targaryen princes at your beck and call?”

“Key word is try,” Valeana shook the grass from her skirt in exasperation. In total unseriousness, she continued, “Though he seems too preoccupied with Alysanne Blackwood, and I cannot compete with a woman who breaks horses and looks like she can kill a man with her thighs.”

“And I am sure she has!”

Their laughter pulled their outing to a lighter conversation about this or that, leaving the stress of courtships and family behind. Though despite the change, something dreadful settled in Valeana’s gut as Ellyn’s warning about Maris echoed in her mind like a bad omen. She couldn’t shake the feeling; it felt like she was an animal, sensing the impending doom of a large, disastrous storm.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO SNEAK PEAK Valeana flipped back over, only to see a shadow looming on the right side of the bed. Her heart leapt in her throat, momentarily gagging her as she jumped and gaped, a scream nearly escaping her lungs. His hand flew to her mouth. “Shh, shh,” Aemond crouched down next to her bed, his grip over her mouth softening when he saw her shoulders cave. “It’s only me.” When he removed his hand from her mouth, she gave him a sharp whack on the shoulder, “Aemond, I swear to the old gods and the new, the next time you do that I’m going to throw you down a flight of stairs.” “Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight,” Said another, causing Valeana to jostle a second time. She and Aemond whirled their heads towards the door with wide and alarmed eyes. And there in the dim light she could make out the short wavy silver hair of Aegon.

Notes: I hope that was worth the 2 week wait )x I still didn't do as much as I wanted in the last two weeks. Didn't realize how much I just needed to unplug during the holidays, what with work stress, among some other things and stuffs. Though the chapter I'm currently working on is nearly done. I just hope the one after doesn't take me just as long, otherwise I may need to do another two-week wait. Also I just wanted to point out...the amount of times I had to watch that Vaemond and dinner scene just to write this chapter, and the Fem!Aegon one shot was so absurd. It used to be my favourate episode, but now I can't even watch it again XD Anyway, once again, I hope everyone had good and safe holidays, <3

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel, @t0biasparabatai

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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wipbigbang · 3 days ago

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2025 International Fanworks Day Mini Bang Schedule & FAQ

Schedule

All times are by 11:59pm PST. Convert time zones.

Writing Begins- January 1st Earliest Posting Of Fic To Platform Of Your Choice- February 1st Regular Posting Of Fic To Platform Of Your Choice- February 7t Bragging Rights Posting Starts- February 15th Bragging Rights Posting Endss- February 22nd

FAQ

What is the WIP Big Bang International Fanworks Day Mini Bang? Good question! This is a Mini Bang with one goal in mind: to clean out your fanfic drafts folder for the fics that were too short to be completed during the main Big Bang (ie, finished works are 7.5K words and under).

Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate? No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Dreamwidth and Tumblr and heavily use our Discord server at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID.

How many fics can I write? We absolutely don’t mind multiple fics! There are no sign-ups for this, as it’s an informal Mini Bang, so as long as it stays under he max word count, you can finish as many fics as you want between January 1st and February 15th.

Will I get emails about the bang? We do not send out any emails for the Mini Bang, as we currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails.

However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly.

What do you mean by maximum word count? You don’t have to have a set minimum of your fic to start, so an outlined fic is fine, but it must be under 7,500 words when it’s finished.

Are multi-chapter fics allowed? Yes, multi-chapter fics are allowed, as long as they stay under the maximum word count.

What about fics that are already posted on ao3 in part? Do those qualify for the bang? It's okay if you have posted some of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here. All we ask is that you not post any public updates to the fic until February 7th (a week before posting your bragging rights to Dreamwidth and/or Tumblr starts). We don’t want you to lose kudos and comments so don’t worry about pulling the fic down, just hold off on updates for now.

I see that the fic maximum is 7500 words and that published WIPs are acceptable - but what if the WIP I’m considering is already more than 7500 words? If your WIP is already over 7,500 words it is ineligble for the Mini Bang. Hoever, you can submit it for the regualr WIPBB.

What happens if an author finishes the fic they signed up with but it’s more than 7,500 words? Do they have to drop out at that point? By all means, we want your stories to feel as natural as possible, and if it’s over 7,500 words when you finish it, that’s great because you finished the fic! But you can’t submit it for the International Fanworks Day WIPBB Mini Bang because it’s over the maximum word count. But be proud of yourself for finishing the fic!

Is there anything not allowed? As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. Original fiction is fine. RPS/RPF is fine. Incest pairings are fine. Things like that I know have been hinted at in questions asked and as long as you tag for them, we’ll allow it. Also, canon settings with mostly OCs is allowed. We just ask that it be tagged properly with any content warnings you would deem fit and be given the appropriate rating for the level of sex/violence there is in the fic.

What's the etiquette around OC-centric stories? Ones that are set in a well known fandom and use several characters, but still lean a lot on original characters? Are they discouraged, or fine? As there is no art claims for this Mini Bang, having mostly OC-centric stories is more than fine.

What is, and do I need, a beta? A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. If you are having trouble finding a beta, try the Discord community.

Where can I post my fic/art? Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, Tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the first day of the posting. If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code to see if they have any available. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue.

What does posting look like? Do we have to post the whole thing on the day, or can we stretch it out between when posting starts and our date? I’ve had a few longfics get killed by big bangs forcing posting to happen on a given day, and would prefer to avoid that if possible. For most fics, posting to AO3/FF.net/other places will be allowed to start on February 7th and you can stretch it out as many posts as you want as long as the complete fic is up by the posting dates (February 15th to Febrary 22nd). However, if you need to post earlier you can start posting February 1st. we want to work with writers to give them ample time to post the story up to their posting date.

Now, as for posting to the communities, you can post at any time between February 15th and February 22nd, without picking a posting date. You’ll post bragging rights similar to those used during the full length WIPBB to Tumblr and/or Dreamwidth with a link to your fic an your bragging, if you choose to include that portion.

How come there aren’t 'art claims'? The quick turnaround in time and the length of time set to write doesn’t leave a lot of time for artists to make art, so the only art allowed to be posted during this event is unfinished art from the 2024 round that has been finished.

Can I get an extension? Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting.

Can I swap out a fic if my muse abandons it again? Since you’re not signing up with specific works, you are more than free to swap fics out with other ones.

Can I drop out? Absolutely! This is a lo pressure event so since you aren’t signing up to finish any particuar fic, you can drop out of the event without telling the mods as well.

Are we allowed to participate without joining the Discord? Absolutely! The Discord server is optional, as just another way to interact with your fellow writers and get updates on important dates. It’s not mandatory you join, however.

I was just wondering if there’s any way to enter the bang anonymously? Like would it be okay to put our work in an anonymous collection on ao3 or something? Unfortunately, I can’t think of a way for that to work. The collection that we use is moderated but it’s not anonymous, and there are the bragging posts that you post to Tumblr and/or Dreamwidth, which you would have your username on whichever platform you use. If you don’t want to use a Tumblr or Dreamwidth account for posting your bragging rights, however, you can always send them to the mod account and we can post them on your behalf.

I was just wondering whether I'm sworn to secrecy on which fics I'll be finishing up, or if I can shout it out to the world? No one is sworn to secrecy once they’ve picked a fic to write (aside from posting new parts to fic that’s already up somewhere…we ask that you refrain from doing that until at least February 1st)! If you want to share snippets of your fic as you make progress, that’s fine, just don’t share the whole thing until posting time starts.

I have a question/concern that’s not mentioned here. If you need help, you can always contact a mod and we will do our best to make sure that you get your story/art finished. The best and fastest method of contact is through our email, [email protected].

#wip big bang #mini bang #!admin #faq #schedule #!2025

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murfpersonalblog · 3 days ago

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IWTV Musings - LDPDL & Nosferatu 2024

We all know & love AMC!IWTV's canon that the Unholy Family saw Nosferatu in 1922, and busted a gut rotflol over Hollywood's vampire.

But if Louis saw Nosferatu 2024, in the wake of Lestat in NOLA, and esp. Armand in Paris/SanFran/Dubai & Claudia's death, I reckon he'd be triggered on several levels. Ofc, one doesn't need to see Nos24 thru Louis' eyes/POV to recognize all the themes about the predatory nature of vampiric seduction, let alone the devastating ways vampires affect/abuse/take advantage/wreak havoc on human vulnerabilities like religious mania depression, mental illness, and suicidal ideation. But let's go for it!

The Closeted (Isolation, Repression, & Mental Illness)

In IWTV, Louis was a closeted gay man who had to grow up always hiding who he really was, for fear of punishment by his uber-Catholic family as well as society at large. Homosexuality was not only considered a mental illness, subject to extreme forms "treatment" including solitary confinement in a sanatorium (mental asylum--the same place his mentally ill brother Paul had already been sent that made him "worse than before"); but also a crime punishable by incarceration or even death.

I've long said that "Rashid"/Armand's treatment of Louis esp. in Dubai was more like a nurse than a servant--the kind of nurse that hates their job (being "stuck on suicide watch") & whose bedside manner effing SUCKS, having no patience for the mentally ill & no capacity to properly take care of them; just making things worse.

In Nosferatu, Ellen was always "touched" as a child, having the 2nd sight that allowed her to always know ahead of time what her Xmas gifts were, and know the date her mom would die. Her mean father thought she was a freak and had her closeted away & isolated from society, the family embarrassment. Even after she got married, Thomas' BFF Friedrich barely tolerated Ellen, and when her seizures started he had her tied & doped & corseted up--all the worst ways of caring for her that likely did more harm than good. Ellen even called him out on it, knowing Friedrich tied her up cuz he hated having to deal with her in the first place "I tire of discussing her; can we please talk about something else; the entire household centers around her fairy whims!," and got sick of her being in his house anymore.

Book & Hearth's video analysis of Ellen's mental illness in Nosferatu says this:

So, Louis/Ellen are both people stigmatized by Victorian society for things that were never their fault (homosexuality, mental illness, etc), either socially closeted/isolated (Louis) or spatially closeted/isolated (Ellen).

(Lestat kept whining in 1x3 & 2x7 about how the worst thing a vampire can feel is loneliness--as if that's not awful for humans to feel, too. 🙄 Esp. since vamps are immortal, they've got all the time in the world for someone to eventually show up & fall in love with them; unlike humans, who grow old & decrepit & die in no time flat.)

We see the extreme lengths Louis & Ellen would go to, to alleviate their loneliness & desperation for companionship, and their desire to feel seen & close to someone--even if that someone was the Devil himself: a vampire.

"Come to me" - Loustat & Orllen

Both IWTV & Nosferatu use Come to Me. It's a motif as old as Dracula itself, so it's par for the course, really.

"Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can rest together. Come, my husband, come!" --Lucy Westenra, Dracula

But both shows play around with it in interesting ways.

In IWTV, Lestat repeatedly chants C2M/Viens a moi to lure Louis to him. In 1x1 Louis actually runs away, fleeing to the church & prayed to God to help/kill him; only for the Devil/Lestat to show up & "give you death" by making him a vampire. But in 1x6, Lestat uses the song "Come to Me" to "get a rise out of" Louis, who swims the Mississippi to take his estranged husband back. But during the Trial, Lestat lied on Lou and accused him of saying C2M to "accost" Les instead--the human seducing the vampire. Meanwhile, Lou still has Les's master recording of C2M in 2022, which he plays for Daniel in Dubai--again proving that Les was lying on Lou & weaponized C2M against him.

Nosferatu24 plays the human-calling/seducing-the-vampire straight, where Ellen literally summoned Orlock. Lonely, she'd prayed to God for a companion, "a spirit of comfort," but accidentally roused the Nosferatu from his sleep as she kept repeating "Come to me."

Ellen accidentally called Orlock, and Lestat hunted Louis down--but both characters are still guilt-ridden by their open-armed acceptance of their vampire lovers, once they eventually realize that the person they thought would be their comfort/safety had only taken advantage of their loneliness, desperation & ignorance about their situation and the type of creature these vamps really were.

Louis' relationship with Armand doesn't 1:1 fit, since they never use C2M per se, but Armand DOES approach Louis similarly to Les, as the charismatic vampire who stalked Lou before finally confronting him, luring him & Claudia into the Theatre to recruit/convert them to his crazy AF coven/cult; and then using a series of lies, manipulations & brainwashes to take advantage of Louis' trauma post-Banishment to keep Lou as his (un)willing companion for 77yrs after killing his daughters.

The Death of 2 Daughters

Orlock's murder of Friedrich's 2 daughters is a chilling scene. The Nosferatu puts a spell on Friedrich while he's sleeping, his hand casting a spectral shadow over Friedrich's face to keep him pinned in his bed and trapped in his nightmares. Meanwhile, his 2 daughters & wife are screaming for him to help them, but Friedrich can't move or wake up, impotently clutching the gun in his hand as his wife & kids are slaughtered bu Orlock, just down the hall from him.

Orlock has both the little girls in his clutches, and throws them down like sacks of potatoes once he's done draining them, as their mother Anna helplessly watches, screaming, before he kills her, too.

This is painfully similar to how Armand instructed the coven to fog the minds of Claudia, Madz & Louis whenever they tried defending themselves, on top of their ankles being slashed so they couldn't move, escape, or fight back--esp. not once Lou was dragged away kicking & screaming to be buried alive, ensuring that he'd be helpless to do anything to save his 2 daughters from being murdered. The last thing he ever heard Claudia say was her screaming his name.

(Since this is 2024, Louis wouldn't yet be privy to the details Lestat reveals in S3 (2026). But if Lestat's also watching Nos24, he knows even more about Claudia's final moments than Lou does--that feeling of helplessness is only amplified by the fact that she's HIS literal Blood Child--he'd've felt her die the same way Louis felt Madz die. Drained after using his Mind Gift to save Louis with Banishment, Lestat's too weak to save Claudia as she burns. The last thing Claudia ever saw was her father just standing there, uselessly watching Armand & the coven burn her to death.)

Sexual Inhibitions, Awakenings, Stigmas, Salvation

Louis is often mocked/derided in the fandom as a d**kmatized Pick Me who only thinks with his loins to stay with toxic AF Lestat's "considerable considerables;" after years of closeted sexual repression.

"Do you remember the best you ever had? So imagine that flowing inside your veins again. Now multiply it by miles, to the rings of Saturn and back...." "He had a way about him, those first years, Lestat. Preternaturally charming, occasionally thoughtful. He was my murderer, my mentor, my lover, and my maker--all of those things at once. He had taken what he called un petit coup, the Little Drink. Not enough to kill me, but just enough to keep him fit. It takes an enormous amount of restraint for us, the Little Drink. For a human, experiencing it for the first time, it was…unsettling. And not for the physical toll on my body, which was significant, but for the feelings of intimacy it awoke within me."

Lestat's seduction of Louis was a sexual revelation/awakening, but it also spooked TF outta Louis. He fled Lestat's house in a gay panic, "vowing never to return." I also discussed how Lestat's C2M in 1x1 was dubcon/noncon, and mirrored Lestat in Paul's head, making both him AND Louis feel unclean.

She sank on her knees on the floor in an agony of abasement. Pulling her beautiful hair over her face, as the leper of old his mantle, she wailed out. “Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh! I must bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the Judgement Day.” -- Mina Harker, Dracula

(Lou was bored to dangit death with Armand in SanFran (the gay mecca where he'd been enjoying his 2nd wind/try at a gay sexual awakening), mocking Armand for having been forced into ascetic celibacy by the Children of Satan, who made him forget he had a working peen (Lou was obvs mad that Armand wasn't using said peen with Lou--the Bed Death Truthers were right all along, LOL).)

Meanwhile, Ellen was outright called a "sinner" by her father when he found her lying naked after a (Orlock-induced) fit/orgasm.

Orlock stayed with Ellen for years, an incubus visiting her in her dreams & having sex with her (the best she'd ever had, as she later throws in Thomas' face, "you could never please me like he could"); but also throwing her into fits/seizures--"at first it was sweet...and then it turned to torture!"

In the end, LDPDL & Ellen use their sexual prowess to distract their vampire husbands long enough for their Murder Plots to be accomplished--a la Mina Harker in Dracula.

Louis is literally instructed by Claudia to seduce Lestat, keeping him distracted with sex while Claudia plans how to poison & kill him. Louis is afraid to fall back into the "well with no bottom" and "lose myself in him," and Claudia promises to be his salvation--pulling him out in time to strike the killing blow to Lestat.

Ellen is another femme fatale who welcomes Orlock into their marriage bed, where she forcefully holds him close as he notices the sun rising; keeping him distracted with sex long enough for the sunlight to cook him to death as she hemorrhages under him. Her suicide is her salvation/martyrdom, as she frees herself (and the whole town) from Orlock's clutches.

(Again, Armand doesn't have as neat of a 1:1 fit, since Louis doesn't distract him with sex to defeat him. But Louis still plays up his seemingly helpless submission to get Armand to allow the interview to continue, as if Daniel isn't threat, and as if Louis doesn't suspect Armand of foul play--at least not until the end of 2x5 ofc. But Armand constantly wrests control back, and by the end of the interview in 2x8 he ALMOST wins. Louis doesn't defeat Armand or save himself at all here--DANIEL defeats Armand & saves Louis instead, showing the leagues of difference between the threat Armand posed vs Lestat. )

#interview with the vampire #nosferatu 2024 #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire armand #bram stoker's dracula #dracula #loustat #loumand #iwtv tvc metas

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