#you bring me neither peace nor joy

[beansinjeans]

[ithebookhoarder]

Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

[drgnmnts]

knuckles bruised (like violets) │ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!OC

Title: knuckles bruised (like violets)

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!OC (Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Alicent Hightower)

Summary: There is no war so hateful to the gods as a war between kin, especially for those caught in between, longing only for peace as they're met with fire and blood.

_______________________________________________

Chapter 5 - A Final Tribute

Word count: 4.6k

The journey to King’s Landing had been pleasant enough regardless of Daenys’ nervousness in the days leading up to their arrival. As the carriage she shared with Jace, Luke, and Joffrey crossed the King’s Gate, the sight of the towering castle made her chest feel tight; despite how much she had missed the place initially all those years ago, the truth was that the Red Keep did not feel like her home anymore. 

And yet, there was a part of her that couldn’t wait to see her mother’s face, to hear her brothers' voices, and hug Helaena and the children. Daenys had been thinking about it the entire journey, imagining different things she could say or do to be the conciliator and make the days they were to spend there as peaceful as possible. 

However, her hopes quickly faltered when the only person to greet them upon their arrival was Lord Casswell. Jace held her hand reassuringly, in an attempt to convince her that perhaps they were simply caught up in preparations. But Daenys knew better. She was no fool, nor a child anymore. Rhaenyra’s family wasn’t welcome in the Red Keep— and neither was she.

As Rhaenyra and Daemon made their way inside to see King Viserys and introduce him to their children, Daenys followed Jace and Luke to the courtyard, a feeling of uneasiness set in her stomach. 

“Ah, see? I told you it would still be here after all these years,” Jace said to Luke, pointing at an indentation in the stone, a story that Daenys knew nothing of but made Luke smile at the memory. 

Before she could even ask what that was all about, the sound of clashing swords made the three of them turn their heads and approach the noise.

The tall, slender man sparring with a member of the Kingsguard Daenys recognized right away. As soon as their eyes met among the crowd surrounding the sword training, Aemond put down his sword.

“Sister,” he said, loud enough for everyone to turn towards Daenys, their stares making her feel scrutinized. She noticed Jace tense up next to her.

“Aemond,” she greeted in kind, an unsure smile on her lips. As the crowd scattered, Aemond took a few steps towards them. Once in front of Daenys, he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles solemnly. 

“It brings me joy to see you again after all these years,” he said, and Daenys believed him.

Before she could say something in return, Aemond dropped her hand and turned towards Jace and Luke.

“Nephews,” he spoke to them then, “have you come to train?”

Jace’s face was anything but a pleased one, however he managed to offer Aemond his politest smile.

“My brother and I are mere spectators, but we appreciate your invitation,” he replied, ever so civil.

“We have only just arrived, brother,” added Daenys in an attempt to ease the tension. “Perhaps a meal and a conversation?”

“Hm, I’m not the kind to dine and converse, I’m afraid,” he replied, eyes lingering a bit too long on Jace, as if silently challenging him, before returning his attention to his sister, “but I do expect to see you tomorrow at court for the petitions—”

From the open doors leading to the inside of the castle, Ser Criston unknowingly interrupted Aemond.

“Princess Daenys,” he called ceremoniously, “His Grace the King wishes to see you. And Prince Jacaerys.”

__________________________

The King’s chamber was dark and lugubrious, and it engulfed them in the sweet scent of incense and something else Daenys couldn’t quite identify. Hand in hand, the couple approached the royal bed, and the sight of her father made Daenys’ breath hitch; King Viserys had lost most of his hair and half his weight, his skin had taken on a pallor that attested his sickly state and, despite being covered by pristine bandages that had been very recently changed, his face resembled the very image of the Stranger. His moans of pain and ragged breaths were the only proof that there was still some life left inside him and, despite everything, it made Daenys want to cry.

“Father?” she called as the pair stood by his bedside, still holding hands, none of them brave enough to touch the man. Her voice came out more like a whisper, and she tried once more, a bit louder. “Father.”

When the man spoke, he sounded tired and in pain.

“Rhaenyra…”

The confusion was nothing new to Daenys, and she was kind in her correction.

“No, Father, it’s Daenys. I’m here with Jace,” she explained, “Ser Criston said you wished to see us.”

“Daenys… Jacaerys…” Viserys said, reaching out to touch them. Jace held his hand. 

“We’re both glad to see you again, Grandsire,” he said, his voice loaded with fondness. If there was someone in the world who had always defended Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, apart from their mother, it was King Viserys.

The man smiled.

“Good children… you’re all grown now…” he said.

“Ten-and-seven, my King,” Daenys said.

“The betrothal… is it a happy one?” he asked then, perhaps in hopes that at least one of his decisions regarding his family had been the right one.

“Very happy, Grandsire,” answered Jace, smiling sweetly at Daenys, “Princess Daenys and I are… very fond of each other.”

King Viserys sighed with contempt.

“Good… good. In that case, I see no reason for the wedding to be postponed any longer.”

After sharing a look with Daenys, Jace spoke again.

“Queen Alicent thinks it’s best to wait until we’ve both turned eighteen,” he informed the king.

“Nonsense,” Viserys declared and, to Daenys’ surprise, his voice sounded steady. “I wish to see my daughter and grandson marry… it shall happen within the fortnight.”

The pair looked at each other again, hearts beating a little bit faster than before.

“Are you sure, Father?” Daenys asked, unsure of how much she could trust the king’s words in his state. Viserys nodded slightly.

“Otto and Alicent are in charge of the matters of the realm… but I am still the head of this family… your betrothal was made to unite us all again… and so it will be…”

As if able to sense that their king was in pain, two maesters Daenys had never seen before entered the room, ready to ease his discomfort and give him as much relief as possible given his circumstances. Feeling like an obstacle in the midst of the maesters’ work, Jace and Daenys decided to leave.

__________________________

Later that day, Daenys was summoned to the small council room by her mother and the Hand. As a child, she hadn’t been allowed in that room, which had led her to imagine it as far more majestic than it actually was: just a long table surrounded by fancy chairs and presided by a small wooden throne. That very head of the table, where Viserys would sit in the past, was now taken by Queen Alicent, ruling in her husband’s stead with the help of her father, the Hand.

After an awkward hug from her mother and a caress to the cheek from her grandsire that felt way too foreign, Daenys took a seat. 

“I hear you’ve been faring well at Dragonstone,” Otto said. Daenys nodded.  “It gladdens me, and the Queen.”

Alicent smiled softly. “I still remember how much you cried when we told you you had to go with them. You made quite a fuss,” she said to Daenys. Regardless of her smile, the queen’s eyes were no mystery to her daughter, and Daenys knew there was something going on.

“Well, yes, because I didn’t want to go. I didn’t know them… I was scared,” Daenys defended herself, because despite how much she loved them all now, she still remembered how abandoned and frightened she had felt back then.

“And yet I take it you’re quite happy now, are you not?” asked Ser Otto.

It bothered Daenys to admit to him that he was right, but she would not deny her happiness.

“Yes, I am.”

“Good,” he said.

“And your betrothed?” asked Alicent. The woman put her arms on the table and Daenys thought her mother was going to reach out for her hand, but instead she laced her own hands in front of her, as if their conversation was just another council meeting and she was not a mother, but a queen. “Is he kind?”

At the mention of Jace, Daenys smiled instantly.

“He is. Jace is gentle, and… loyal. Very intelligent. He will be a fine king one day,” she said.

Something in Ser Otto’s face didn’t sit right with Daenys, but it was such a fleeting gesture that she wasn’t able to fully discern what it could mean.

“I assume you have bled already,” he said, and the change of topic for one so intimate made Daeny’s face heat up in embarrassment. She looked at her mother, who encouraged her to answer the Hand.

“Yes, two years ago. Our maester says I’m perfectly healthy.”

Ser Otto nodded, pleased with the information. Then, he spoke again.

“I know my question will make you uncomfortable, but I must ask, and you must tell me the truth. Has Prince Jacaerys touched you?”

Daenys was left aghast by her grandsire’s question. She crossed her arms over her chest as she snorted indignantly, her cheeks turning cherry red. 

“What kind of question is that?” she inquired. 

“Just answer him, Daenys,” commanded Alicent, and whether she also wanted to hear her answer or not, Daenys didn’t know.

Reluctantly, Daenys did as she was told. “No, Prince Jacaerys has not touched me. He hasn’t done or said anything inappropriate to me, ever. He is honorable, more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Ser Otto held his granddaughter’s gaze, only to nod once more at her answer. Daenys knew he believed her, but that didn’t bring her any solace.

“Let us hope he keeps his honor, until the time is right,” he said. Daenys had to make use of all her willpower to not scoff.

“Speaking of time,” she said then, and the two adults turned their heads towards her. “My Father, the King, has expressed his desire for Jace and I to marry within the fortnight. He says there is no reason for us to wait, and we agree.”

“Of course you do,” muttered Ser Otto.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Daenys questioned, anger making her forget about her manners and the rules of the court, and Alicent was quick to appease her daughter’s outrage by grabbing her arm. 

“What the Hand meant to say,” the woman began, giving her father a pointed look, “is that it is only natural for the two of you to want to rush things, but there is no need—”

“‘Rush things’?” Daenys asked, sounding incredulous. “Mother, we’ve been betrothed for six years. Aegon and Helaena have two children already, and Jacaerys is the crown prince.”

Ser Otto shifted in his seat, but Daenys didn’t notice.

“Yes, he is,” said Alicent, thin-lipped. “And what your sister has, that will come to you as well… when the time is right.”

“But my Father—”

“The King says many things,” intervened Otto. “He barely discerns reality from illusion. One must not take his words to heart, as it is difficult to know whether he means it or not.”

With that, the conversation was finished.

________________________

Daemon had sliced Vaemond Velaryon’s head in half. 

It had been a tumultuous hearing, one that had brought tears to Daenys’ eyes at the way the man spoke about Rhaenyra and her children, but Daemon had put an end to it the only way he knew how to handle things: with violence. 

At least the debate was over: Lucerys Velaryon would inherit the Driftwood Throne, as declared by King Viserys himself with the support of Princess Rhaenys.

Daenys didn’t know whose idea it had been, but the whole family was gathered at the dining hall, ready for supper. She was sitting between Jace and Aegon, who had been drunk all day and had only shown his face to greet his sister a mere couple hours before dinner. Aegon’s attitude saddened Daenys, especially because Helaena didn’t deserve a husband who spent his days in his cups, or asleep, or doing gods know what. 

“You look very beautiful,” Jace whispered in her ear, interrupting her thoughts. Daenys smiled from ear to ear. They hadn’t been able to see each other again after their conversation with the king, at least not alone. After the events with Vaemond Velaryon, Daenys had spent the rest of the afternoon with Helaena and the children, who were just as lovely as Daenys had imagined.

“Likewise,” she replied, briefly stroking his cheek. Unbeknownst to Daenys, Aemond was watching her and Jace very carefully, and so was Ser Otto. 

They all rose when King Viserys made his way into the hall, carried by his most trusted guards. Once he was settled between Alicent and Rhaenyra, everyone sat down again. 

“This is an occasion for celebration, it seems…” he began, out of breath. “As I’ve… recently decided, my daughter Daenys will marry my grandson Jacaerys… before the next moon.”

Daenys and Jace shared a look as they smiled with relief: now that it had been said in public, there was no way someone could try to diminish the King’s words. As Viserys continued speaking, Daenys raised her brows at Ser Otto, as if saying: See? I told you.

“Hear, hear!” cheered Daemon, raising his cup to them.

“Moreover,” the King continued, “as agreed by Princess Rhaenyra and Princess Rhaenys… my grandson Lucerys shall marry his cousin, Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses.”

Daenys smiled with excitement as she reached over Jace to give Rhaena’s hand a squeeze. She was aware that weddings weren’t always joyful, but knowing Luke and Rhaena, Daenys was certain that the pair was as thrilled as her and Jace.

Overcome by the bravery that happiness can bring to a person, Daenys decided to stand, chalice in hand. 

“If it pleases my King, I would like to propose a toast. To Prince Lucerys,” she said, giving her soon-to-be brother by law a complicit look, “I’ve had the privilege to watch you grow into the young man you are today, and you’re as dear to my heart as any of my brothers. I wish you and your betrothed all the best in the world. To the future Lord of the Tides.”

After they all had drank from their cups and Luke had expressed his thankfulness, Daenys sat down again. Jace kissed her cheek as Rhaenyra smiled at her with gratitude for her gesture: Daenys had kept her promise, and the crown princess would not forget it.

 “I see congratulations are in order,” said Aegon, low enough so that the rest could not to hear him, only Daenys. His breath smelled of Dornish strongwine. “I do have to say, sister, I’m afraid you’re about to be terribly disappointed. But I am feeling kind today. So, if you ever need me to demonstrate to your betrothed how to please a woman, other than just put a dark haired babe in you and call it a day, all you have to do is ask.”

Daenys silently prayed to the gods that Aegon was too drunk to notice the red of her cheeks. His comment wasn’t just inappropriate, it was venomous.

“Perhaps you might want to focus your kindness on your wife, dear brother,” she replied, her lips a thin line.

“Is everything alright?” Jace asked in a whisper.

Aegon gave Jace a look and opened his mouth as if to say something to him, but Daenys pressed her fist against her brother’s thigh, her rings digging into his skin through his trousers, and Aegon fell silent.

“Yes,” Daenys said softly, smiling sweetly at her betrothed, her back turned to her brother. “Aegon is an idiot, that’s all.”

Princess Rhaenyra stood up now, raising her cup for Queen Alicent. Her words were sincere, and Daenys could tell her mother was trying hard to keep hold in her emotions.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess,” the Queen said. “We’re both mothers. And we love our children. You have raised my daughter admirably, and for that I am thankful. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you and to your house. You will make a fine queen.”

The appreciation for Rhaenyra’s role in raising Daenys did not go unnoticed to her, and Daenys wondered how different she would be if she had spent the last six years at the Red Keep, with her mother.

Daenys didn’t notice Aegon walking behind her and reaching for a decanter near Jace, but she did hear what he said to him.

“You do know how the act is done, right? Where to put your cock and all that.”

“Aegon, stop it—,” she started, but was interrupted by Jace’s fists banging the table in anger. When he stood, Daenys looked at him with pleading eyes. Please, don’t ruin this.

But Jace wasn’t like that. He wasn’t vicious like Aegon, nor violent like Aemond, who was already standing, ready to jump at any sudden movement from his nephew.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond,” he started, and Daenys sighed in relief. “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends. I understand your worries, as brothers, about your little sister getting married soon, but I’ve been preparing to be the kind of husband she deserves since I can remember. You have nothing to worry about,” he said, his eyes burning holes through Aegon’s skull in spite of his friendly smile. “To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.”

Daenys put her cup to her lips to hide her grin.

That seemed to be the end of all the bickering, as the dinner progressed without further incidents. They were about to finish their first course when Daenys decided to have a conversation, or at least try, since he had not opened his mouth all evening.

After excusing herself, she stood and walked up to where her brother was, with the excuse of serving herself some more wine. The band was playing a cheerful tune, and the atmosphere in the dining hall was welcoming and warm.

“Have you seen the trees behind Evenfall Hall in Tarth? They’re starting to flower. I flew over the island a moon ago and it’s a beautiful sight—”

“What are you doing?” Aemond asked, eye fixed on Daenys, his brow slightly furrowed.

Daenys was taken aback by his reaction.

“What do you mean? I’m trying to speak with you.”

“So first you switch sides and now you wish to sweet talk to me about flowering trees—”

“Switch sides? They are my family, Aemond, just as they are yours despite how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.”

Aemond smiled, but there was no sign of amusement on his face.

“They’re not my family, they’re b—”

Daenys’ face hardened. She put the decanter back on the table with a loud thud, the impact causing the table to shudder slightly, and everyone turned to look at them.

Aemond quickly grabbed her wrist before she could go back to her seat, and Jace stood up. The music stopped, and the sudden silence made Daenys’ ears ring.

“I will not apologize,” Aemond said, speaking only to Daenys, as if he didn’t care about everyone staring at them. In his one remaining eye, Daenys saw the little boy from their past, the one who had once been the most important person in the world to her. She felt like she could cry.

Aemond’s thumb rubbed softly against the skin of her wrist, right above her pulse.

“Then I’m afraid you’ve lost me forever, brother,” she said, and this time Aemond did let go of his sister.

Daenys walked back to Jace, who put his arms around her in a protective way.

“Can we leave?” she asked him.

Perhaps it had been the way Daenys had searched for refuge in Jace’s arms, or the way he had shot daggers at Aemond with his eyes, or something else entirely, but the One-Eyed Prince stood up then, raising his cup.

“A final tribute before you leave, then,” he said. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…” his eye was fixed on Daenys, and he only looked away when he spoke again, “strong.”

“Aemond,” Alicent warned, knowing all too well where the situation was going.

“Come,” he continued, “let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

“I dare you to say that again,” said Jace, his voice threatening, positioning himself in front of Daenys.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. My sister speaks wonders of you boys, and yet when I try to be polite like she wants me to be, I seem to offend you. Do you not think yourself strong?”

Jace’s fist landed on Aemond’s face with a loud crack, the sound of bone meeting flesh echoing through the room. From that moment on, everything happened too quickly:

Daenys went with Helaena, who was covering her ears, overwhelmed by the situation, and hugged her sister. As Aegon pushed Luke’s face against the table, two guards held Jace away from Aemond. Alicent tried to reprimand him, but Aemond freed himself with ease from his mother’s grasp, and only shut his mouth when Daemon put himself between him and Jace. 

“Go to your quarters. All of you, now,” ordered Rhaenyra. Rhaena and Luke, as well as Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena, left the hall. Daemon was speaking with Jace, trying to calm him down, and Daenys found solace in Rhaenyra’s arms.

“Rhaenyra,” called Alicent as she approached the two, and Daenys could’ve sworn it pained her mother to see that she was looking for consolation in Rhaenyra’s embrace, and not hers. “I apologize for this ugly ending to such a lovely evening.”

Rhaenyra nodded and gave her a closed-mouth smile. “These things happen, I suppose.”

Alicent put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “I was thinking… well, before all of this happened, anyway, that perhaps you would like to stay here until the wedding. It would be good to have everything prepared to your liking, and I’m sure Jahaerys and Jahaera would love to have you around a bit longer. And I as well.”

The idea of tending to her wedding preparations with her mother and sister by her side sounded like a dream come true to Daenys. With a small smile on her lips, she looked at Rhaenyra.

“If Princess Rhaenyra is fine with it, I… I would like that very much,” she said.

Rhaenyra smiled back, and left a motherly kiss on her forehead. “Of course,” she said. 

“But…” Daenys added, “I would also like you to be here, as well.”

Rhaenyra shared a look with Alicent, not knowing exactly what to say to Daenys’ proposal. Alicent smiled kindly.

“The King and I would like that very much,” she said.

“Very well, then,” said Rhaenyra. “Let me see the children home, and I’ll return on dragonback.”

Daenys’ troubles dissipated with the idea of spending such special moments with the most important women in her life, but her smile faded when she turned and saw that Jace wasn’t there anymore. 

Daemon said she would find him in his quarters, where he was indeed already packing up to leave.

Daenys approached him and grabbed his arm with both her hands to make him stop, and he did, but his eyes were still fixed on the trunk that contained his personal belongings. Daenys put her chin on his shoulder and, when she spoke, she did it softly.

“We’ve decided it’ll be good if I stay here until the wedding,” she said.

To this, Jace took a step back, meeting her gaze with eyes wide open.

“No!” he exclaimed, “Absolutely not. There is no way you’re staying here without me.”

“Jace,” she tried, gathering all the patience and good temper she possessed. “I will be fine, your mother will be here. I think I need this last moment with them, to— to put things right and make amends.”

Jace scoffed and turned towards the bay window, which looked out onto Aegon’s Hill. “I truly cannot believe you’re that blind,” he said.

His tone caught Daenys off guard; he had never spoken to her that way. “I don’t understand,” she said.

“Can you not see what he’s doing?” he asked her now, pointing at nowhere in particular. “What happened tonight, do you think he was just trying to irritate me?”

“Who?” Daenys asked, extremely confused.

“Aemond!”

“What about him?”

“He is in love with you!” he yelled, exasperated.

Daenys blinked in confusion. “What— that’s stupid, Jace.”

“Is it?” he asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Shaking her head, Daenys crossed her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t know that. I mean, you don’t know Aemond, you wouldn’t know.”

“Believe me, I know what loving you looks like.”

Daenys’ frown immediately softened, and she bit her lip to hide her smile, but she failed terribly.

“Why are you smiling?” asked Jace, and his previous anger seemed to have disappeared already.

“What you just said… it was very sweet.”

Jace breathed through his nose and, although his face was still a serious one, he closed the distance between them and put his hands on Daenys’ waist, who immediately placed her hands on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said, and the true regret in his voice warmed Daenys’ heart. “And I’m sorry everything got out of hand.”

“It’s already forgotten,” she assured him, her forehead against his. “But I do need you to understand something. You and I are going to be married in less than fifteen days,” she began, and the thought made both of them smile. “And it’s not like things are going to change much between us because the truth is that I’m already yours, Jace. No matter what happens, or who tries to get in between… it’ll be to no avail.”

Jace’s eyes were glued to her lips, and it took all of his willpower not to kiss her right there and then. He knew that, of all places, the Red Keep was the least appropriate to share that kind of intimacy before the wedding.

“What about Aemond?” he asked.

“Aemond is confused. He wants everything that isn’t his, that’s how it’s always been. You mustn’t worry, I promise.”

Jace sighed. “I will anyway, but I trust you.”

“Thank you,” she replied, and gave him a soft peck on the lips.

“Princess Daenys, where is your decorum?” he quipped, and Daenys let out an honest laugh.

“I will see you in a fortnight, then,” she said, hands in his curls as if she was afraid of never touching them again.

“A fortnight,” he confirmed, stealing another innocent kiss.

“Miss me terribly, will you?” she asked, letting go of him and walking backwards towards the door. 

“I will try,” he joked, although both knew they would in fact miss each other terribly and be miserable about it.

Rhaenyra and Daemon’s family left that very evening, with only Daenys and Alicent seeing them off at the King’s Gate. 

Later that night, King Viserys died in his bed.

__________________________________

Sorry for the delay! We rescued a kitten this week and I've been MOTHERING! But here you are my loves, I hope you enjoy!

If you liked this, let me know in any way! And if you're missing from the tag list, please let me know!

Series Taglist: @void21, @burningwitchobject, @hellish-idiot, @inf4ntdeath, @klutzylaena, @swimmjacket , @helo1281917 , @cat-winter, @deltamoon666 , @strawberrymangoes , @lenadoerrer , @lenasdmns, @parkyurri , @groovycass , @yagbookstand02 , @jacaeryslover , @moonshine147, @neocity-mel

[silovsmenot]

Foreign Language | Artūrs Šilovs (Part Four)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

SUMMARY: With a few days break after the end of the Nashville series, Arty and the reader attend a small family party to wind down. WARNINGS: Do you ever expect anything other than fluff from this series? PAIRING: Artūrs Šilovs & reader (f!reader implied). NOTES: It took far too long to finish this, and I have a plethora of things to blame - please forgive me. And yes, my Latvian partner refuses to go to any of my family parties or events without a food offering... so we're making Arty the same. WORD COUNT: 2161

It felt like the first morning in weeks when neither of you had to move — as you so often did, you lay tangled within his arms with the soft sound of his sleeping breaths in your ear. You made no attempts to move, simply not wanting to wake him. You’d been back in Vancouver for only a day, and you had a few more days of the break before round two.

You both wanted to make the most of it.

It felt like the first morning in weeks when neither of you had to move — as you so often did, you lay tangled within his arms with the soft sound of his sleeping breaths in your ear. You made no attempts to move, simply not wanting to wake him. You’d been back in Vancouver for only a day, and you had a few more days of the break before round two.

You both wanted to make the most of it.

There were plans in motion, plans you wanted to refuse for Artūrs benefit but he’d been quick to accept. And he was adamant. He’d still not met your family, and this felt like as good a time as any to him. Tensions were high with the cup in sight, but the birthday party of a young cousin seemed a good escape from it all. And you’d never say no to him wanting a break from it all, especially now.

But within his arms, there were no thoughts about the party today, nor the first meetings to come — it was just peace and calm. Calmer than you’d felt in weeks, and he slept so soundly in your bedroom (with the help of your beloved blackout curtains).

Neither of you wanted to be the first to move as his brown eyes fluttered open, immediately landing upon you with the soft look that you’d grown to crave. The sleepy smile that would gradually spread across his stubbled features as the hand raised to rub against his groggy eyes. 

It was your turn to smile, thinking of the decisions that had led you here and thanking your bravery on that distant day in Abbotsford. It felt like years ago with the chaos of the last few months, yet everything was still so new and fresh.

“What time is it?” Arty quietly said, eyes narrowing in struggle toward the clock as hands reached wildly for his glasses beside the bed.

You quietly replied — watching in confusion as he swiftly rose from the bed in a sense of panic, throwing clothes on with little care as glasses caught in his shirt collar.

“Art, what’s going on?” You laughed, pulling the bedsheet back over yourself and clinging to the warmth beneath.

Silence fell for a moment as Arty struggled in the t-shirt — his head finally popping out with glasses lopsided on his face.

“I need to make something for the party…” He spoke so quietly, repeating himself as you continued to look on in confusion. Your face instantly softened as you registered his words, gaze looking on in awe. “I was always raised to bring food, it’s rude to turn up to a party without something.”

You simply lay there for a moment, watching him as he waited for your response with a slight look of worry. He thought you’d tell him that he was being silly, or that you thought it was a bad idea. Instead, you hand raised abruptly from the bed, reaching for the closest nearby shirt.

“What are we making then?” You yawned, struggling out of bed with his hand offered to steady yourself. Eyes watched as his face simply lit up, the look of pure joy etched so clearly upon his face as you gave your approval.

He didn’t wait a single moment before both hands were upon your hips, rising you from the ground to throw you over his shoulder. Your protests and laughs fell on deaf ears as Arty strode, laughing, through the apartment toward the kitchen. Only when you were in the kitchen did he lower you onto the counter with a swift kiss upon your forehead.

You were left to watch, words ignored with his cheeky grin, as his head dipped into the fridge. A litany of items all being removed and placed upon the counter, most were items that you’d never seen him sneak into your flat the night before.

Beetroot, cucumber, potatoes, eggs and so many other things — all of it leading to your brow raised high upon your crown.

“No, seriously, what are you making, Art?” Words repeated, laughter immediately following your words.

“We’re making Aukstā Zupa.” The Latvian spoke in his matter-of-fact tone as his head poked out from the fridge. A final thud of a large white bottle of kefir, and he rose with a nod. He had everything he needed. You simply looked on, dumbfounded but grinning.

His large hand reached out to you, pulling you from the countertop as they guided you to the bag of potatoes.

“I understand it’s a soup, but what is it?” You questioned, accepting the knife as he slipped it into your grip.

“Just start cutting the potatoes, they need cooking.” 

With a playful roll of your eyes, you set to work — occasional touches upon your hip as the gaze of your boyfriend checked on your cutting skills, gentle kisses upon your cheek with every leaning touch.

It wasn’t long before Arty relieved you of the knife with enough potatoes prepared. Now, all you had to do was sit back and watch. You sat at the breakfast bar with your chin upon your hand, watching him closely as he crafted this thing that he’d clearly made many times before.

And, before long, the electric pink soup was sealed within the bowl upon the counter.

“I hope your family like it…”

The balloons and bunting were in full display as the car pulled into the only remaining gap outside your family home. His gaze panning to you once more with a heavy inhale and exhale — fingers tangling together with your lips pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand.

“They’re going to love you, Art.”

It was your youngest cousin, the birthday boy, who first saw the two of you enter the party. You’d never hidden the identity of your boyfriend from your family, but you were not the sort to shout about it — it was only the closest family who knew anything other than his first name.

But in the first moment that your cousin saw him, he knew. Your family had always been a hockey family, and your cousin knew that face as soon as he saw it. The young birthday boy breaking into a sprint with a face like christmas. His little brain thinking you’d bought this Latvian goalie for him, this was his gift.

And as you looked over at your boyfriend, his face was almost exactly the same. His grin was curved from ear to ear, and though he was silently panicking at the prospect of meeting your parents, he was a little relieved to be seconds from this child colliding with him.

Arty caught your cousin in a raised embrace, the child clinging to him as tight as he could with no signs of release.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Artūrs quietly said with a soft laugh. You couldn’t have been any more in love with him at that moment, watching as he made no attempt to claw away from your cousin or to shrug off his little arms. No, your boyfriend would stand there and hold the child for as long as the birthday boy wanted.

Even as your family began to descend, your parents doing their best to welcome him to the party with a tender hug around the body of your cousin, he made no attempt to release your cousin. You’d never discussed children with him, it seemed too rushed and too sudden, but in that moment it was clear that he was fond.

You simply could not stop smiling as you watched — your mother looking on with the look that only a mother can, when she’s watching her child fall deeper and deeper into love. And the butterflies in your stomach as Arty and your cousin laughed were enough to confirm it for you.

A call from afar took the attention of all, your hand clasped in the hand that Art managed to wriggle free from your cousin as you walked. The garden was decorated with balloons, food and the entire family.

“Wait, the soup.” You whispered, pulling the Latvian close with a little jerk. With soft words of promise and reassurance, your cousin finally released your boyfriend who, with the look of panic, went sprinting back to the car to fetch the container of pink. 

And he returned with a sheepish look on his face as he held the tub close to him. Your family all looked on in confusion as he laid it upon the table.

“Thank you for allowing me to join your special day —” Arty spoke with a deep breath, finding the courage that he could before that large crowd. He never was great with crowds, but he’d face it for you . . . with you. 

“Where I come from, we bring food to gatherings, so I wanted to make you something from my home.” 

The smile spread across every face within the garden, even your little cousin who had to be the first with a spoon at the pot. His little eyes peered at the bright pink soup with curiosity before dipping deep with the spoon and taking it straight into his mouth.

Arty watched him closely, laughing quietly as the little boy’s face lifted into a strange new smile.

“Why is it cold?” The birthday boy laughed, dragging out each word in a childish manner. But his question only created a fresh laughter from Art.

“Because it’s perfect for warm days, like today.” The goal-tender whispered, nodding in complete confidence with each word. And, before long, the rest of the family were all taking spoons to the pot with mixed reviews. Each person approached your boyfriend with questions and thoughts of the electric pink soup, all of which simply kept that smile glued to his lips. Your family liked him from the first moment.

Hours passed, sun giving way to the peaceful pink sunset upon the horizon and, to both of your surprise, all of the pink soup was gone. Your little cousin, whether he’d truly enjoyed it or not, had made a point to continually return to the pot with his little bowl and Artūrs in tow. You barely got a word in sideways to your boyfriend, but this simply gave you the time to sit and admire — grinning in silence as you watched him play and entertain the birthday boy. 

Your mother watched you watching him, your own smile mirrored upon her face.

“He’s a goodun, y/n.” Your mother would whisper as she leaned closer to you, breaking your gaze from the goaltender for the briefest of moments. You knew she was right. 

The sleepy arms of the birthday boy were slowly untangled from the tall form of the Latvian, all movements freezing with each little movement from the child that might suggest waking — Arty doing everything he could to not wake the birthday boy.

With your mother’s help, he was finally free. The loop-sided smile still lingering upon his lips as his gaze remained fixed upon your nephew. Your own quick embraces given to various family members before you both began your silent walk back to the car.

There were no words, just smiles, as you both came to sit in the car. A tired yawn slipping through your lips as a hand raised to cover parted lips.

“Thank you for bringing me today, mīļā — it was nice to forget about everything for a day.” 

The silence broken by Arty’s words, your smile curling from ear to ear as your head turned to face him. His lips a light flush from the brisk night air, his glasses made dirty by the various child hands now removed and tucked into his polo shirt.

“Thank you for coming with me, Art.”

He took his cue, leaning over in the car with a hand placed gently upon your thigh, his lips finding your own with a playful smile still upon them. Even as lips parted, he lingered close — foreheads together as you simply both enjoyed the closeness.

“How about we head home, grab some pizza and you can pick a film?” You whispered, light hand upon his stubbled cheek as you playfully flicked your thumb over his growing moustache. 

“Can we watch ‘Kriminālās Ekselences Fonds’?” His voice shifted, an excitement to it that you couldn’t deny, even though you had no idea what that was. 

You laughed lightly as your head nodded, watching his grinning face as he eagerly began to drive back to the rink-side flat. 

It would be the perfect end to the day — the pizza box now empty upon the table as you both became comfortably tangled beneath the large blanket, reading the film subtitles as he explained every little thing to you. You were watching him more than the movie, watching how excited he was about being able to watch this film with you. 

A small sense of peace before the next round of the playoffs. 

Es mīlu tevi = I love you

Mīļā = Honey/Dear

Kriminālās Ekselences Fonds = The Foundation of Criminal Excellence

[thewordfortheday]

"And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter to be with you forever - the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept Him, because it neither sees Him nor knows Him. But you know Him, for He lives with you and will be in you." John 14:16-17

When you put your trust in Jesus Christ, you never have to face any situation alone. The Holy Spirit lives with you and in you. He will be your support. After all, He knows the limits of your abilities!

He is the Comforter. He understands your pain, your deep hurts like no one else does. He comforts you just like Jesus. Today, lean on Him, He’s your stay in every sorrow, every suffering, and every trouble. He will help you, He will direct your steps, He will counsel you, convict you of sin. Above all, He will give you His peace.

The Holy Spirit is with you and in you. He is able to strengthen you and give you hope in the midst of your troubles.

Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank you that I am never alone, but that the Holy Spirit is with me. I refuse to allow loneliness or pain to steal from me the joy that the presence of the Holy Spirit brings into my life.  In Jesus' Amen.

[n0tamused]

Broken Memories

Genre: angst

A/N: More older stuff to post, hope you all enjoy. I did a quick proofread but knowing me I'll just say that there still may be some grammar mistakes :p

Lofty clouds sail over the Xianzhou Lofu, welcoming some distant warmth to befall the people after what felt like years and years worth of rain. Fresh air brings in the freshness which the rain left behind, feeling like a new slate of paper ready to be written on, but Blade just watches on in solemn silence. Tendrils of pain and ache make its way through his body in steady, continuous waves, not letting him relax, but not letting him move either. For him, only the present moment exists, and in a twisted way he is forced to accept it. His life knows no end, so he makes scarce peace with the present.

Remembrance of days already long and gone make their way to his head, when white locks fell down his back instead of raven black, and when he had friends to speak off, company to talk to, and dreams to dream about. In the long faded and broken memories he sees himself, Yingxing, strike a hot piece of metal over and over again until he gets it to the desired dimensions. Deft hands grab onto the pincers and tools and a bucket of cold water to mend the metal, and the process flows on effortlessly under his watchful gaze. Yingxing feels even more anxiety pool in his chest unlike he usually feels, his gaze fixated on carving the blade to have a more intricate design - this was no ordinary blade in the end, made to be given to some soldier or some higher up as compensation, no - it was a gift. It had to be perfect. Beyond perfect.

The dagger was curved and elegant, and in his hands it demonstrated to perfect balance between the point and hilt, and many little details were put into it in colors of gold and rose gold, your favorite gemstones, your favorite color in the leather grip, your favorite shapes, and about anything else he could incorporate into the dagger without overthrowing its aesthetic and its practical use. It shines beautifully under the pale sunlight, the rain clouds drifting away after days worth of rain. Yingxing smiles at his work, lifting it up above his head until he sees the reflection of his own eyes in the blade, full of mirth and under one eye there’s a smudge of charcoal. He can’t help the pride that makes his chest swell, and neither can he afford to wait for the following day to give it to you. So he makes quick work of packaging the blade and following the narrow roads, searching the entire city until he finds you and just gives the gift to you right then and there, in broad daylight with little introduction. Red paper is wrapped around the wooden box, not in the most skilled way, but in a caring way, and he relishes in the compliments you rain down upon him when he explains what it is, or even why he gave it to you. For once he feels really seen. His life-long mission is for once cast aside in favor of admiring this little side quest he ventured upon. And he feels like he could throw everything away if it meant seeing your joy every day. That evening you have invited him back to your home, served him tea and shared your events of the day, along with more passionate comments about the gifted dagger. 

Blade sighs, remembering your smile, your face, and he remembers how different it now looks in his distorted memories. He is forgetting.. He knows the face he sees in his memories is not the one he knew, he feels it in his bones and in his blackened heart. There is just something missing. The visage of his eyes can’t focus on your face nor the details of your clothes or your hands when they gripped his.

The broken dagger in his lap is unfixable - Yingxing is no longer here to mend it as before. Blade can only hold onto the essence of its memories until the whole world goes dark, and that says plenty of his grief and regret. His chin tilts down to look at the dagger, his finger jabbing at the broken blade as if it was a foreign object to him, something extra terrestrial, as if he didn’t pour his heart into it decades before. Perhaps he did pour his all into it, maybe that’s why the dagger followed the same fate as he did, as the smith poured a piece of his soul into his art. He can only hope the dagger does not represent you.. he hopes you’re out there, somewhere, happy, healthy, alive..

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[jienem]

Falling through his realm

Hi everyone! Thank you for reading this story. This was like my story Falling down to the Queen's roses. This was not a part 2 rather a similar to that concept. Keep in mind that you a reader is a half-fae like sebek. Thank you once again for reading this story. I really appreciate it very much.

Sypnosis: In which you got sent into another world where Maleficent or known as Malleus rule over the faeries.

How does one understand magic?" You wondered. You sat down under the protection of tall trees, away from the sun's gaze. You opted to spend your time at the library, but with exams coming around, the chairs would be quite full at a moment. Instead, you chose a spot on the botanical garden away from the students sight.

Despite being a magic-user, you still couldn't grasp the abilities of your magic. You were neither bad nor good at magic, but as you used it as a tool, you were slowly doubting if it was worth the effort.

"Does magic bring peace?" You mumbled once more, turning the pages onto another as you tried to read. Try as you might, you kept rereading the lines many times before giving up on your attempt. Instead, you gazed up high; the green leaves covered the bluish sky, yet you didn't mind the view. You closed your eyes and breathed in the fresh air, letting your head fall backward and hitting the wooden tree lightly. The leaves sway back and forth, lulling you to sleep. You were exhausted; helping your dorm for the upcoming school festival, having to use your magic for a long run, and staying up late just so you could finish your schoolwork was no easy feat.

Even as you slept, you picked up a crunch sound heading your way. Your response was to simply continue sleeping, hoping just a little they could leave. Yet they didn't. Slowly and surely, their foot made their way until they are an arm's distance from you.

"Tch, a herbivore from diasomnia is in my way, he growled. You fluttered your eyes and glanced at his figure, noticing his irritation. It seems you were at one of his hideouts. His silence continued once more, and his patience is wearing thin. You nod your head in greeting before plastering a smile on your face.

"Housewarden Kingscholar, can I help you?"

"Crawling away from my spot will help."

You sighed. "Is that so? Well, then, if you excuse me, you said, closing the book and standing up from the ground. His expression stayed emotionless, yet you didn't miss the way his eye twitched at your movement.

"What's wrong? A cat bit your tongue?" He taunted.

"None at all." You checked your belongings once more and tilted your head to look at him. You plastered a smile once more without any fight. He opened his mouth but closed it; he mumbled something under his breath and turned his back on you. You frowned in confusion before shrugging and leaving the garden. You passed by some familiar students and greet them, you hold some small conversation with Ruggie Bucchi alerting him where Housewarden Leona was and stride your way towards the mirror.

"Y/N, are you already heading back?"

"Vice housewarden Lilia. Yes, was the dorm still under preparation?" You paused in your tracks and greeted. Lilia's deep red eyes held joy; his lips curled up a smile and he nodded.

"Indeed, but it was almost done. It was fun designing the main area, did it not?" He put the back of his hand to his chin and closed his eyes, chuckling.

You shared his joyous expression and agreed. For once, the dorm was filled with more noise than before. It was usually quiet every time you came back, yet you didn't mind the change. For a while, the two of you stood there talking until you noticed the clock nearby.

"I should get back soon; I wouldn't hold you back from your duty, Vice-Housewarden Lilia."

He chuckled lightly and patted your shoulder. "Ow, don't be so formal, Y/N,

We are both in our third years. Call me Lilia."

"Ah, well then, Lilia-san. I wished you the best of luck." You fumbled your words at the sudden request before smiling.

"You as well. Stay safe, Y/N."

He returned your words and left you on your record. You turn around and

Head your way towards the mirror and step in.

But something is wrong.

.

Your magic.

.

.

Is bursting with mana engulfing your whole body.

.

.

It hurts so much.You could feel your magic slipping by. Your vision was distorted as you fell down in pain. Whimpering in pain, you tried to use your pen whispering some magic spells but to no avail. Even the world around you seems to be shaking. Your body couldn't handle anymore and blacked out in an instant.

When you woke up, your head was aching. 'Where was I? ' You rubbed your temple to ease the pain. At the very least, you still wear the uniform, and your magic pen is by your side. But you feel empty. The magic running through your course was nonexistent, as if it weren't there at all. Your heart thumps against your chest as you breathe.

You lost your magic.

No, it must be something. After all, you were exhausted.

You reasoned. You calm your nerves and focus on the bright side.

Yet... Why do you feel as if it won't come back?

A half-fae turn human now.

No, don't even think about it. You comfort yourself more before turning around and looking at the surroundings. The sun was replaced by the moon shining on the ground, and you wondered how many hours had passed. You note how everything differs from NRC's. The air was much colder than diasomnia, and the area wasn't supposed to be wide. There shouldn't be a castle in the distance or thorn walls creeping from the side. You concluded you were neither in Diasomnia nor at NRC.

Where are you?

You didn't have time to grasp everything when strange soldiers headed your way. Your eyes widened, and you turned to run. You couldn't believe your luck; what made them want to capture you?

"A human! Quick capture her!" one of the soldiers ordered, earning them to yell in agreement.

"Wait, I-" Huffing, you maneuvered your way, dodging their attacks, and almost fell down when they released a rock mere meters away. You tried to use your magic, but it was still useless. Your attention was on your pen, and failed to noticed a newcomer in front, you bumped into them and fell to the ground.

"What a surprise, human. You boldly went your way here despite the dangers lurking around."

Lilia?

"Lilia-"

Your vision was suddenly covered with a cloth, and your heart pounded as you heard the swishing sounds of bats swarming around you, carrying you in the air. You squeaked and tried to swat them away, but they held on enough that it could have hurt had it not been for the long sleeve of your uniform.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you." His amused voice filled your ears, and you couldn't help but compare them earlier; his tone was much colder than before.

"Lilia-san, what is going on? Why aren't we back at NRC? Could you please-"

"Stop asking questions. And its Vanrouge. Once we reach the king, you could give your statement to him." he sneered.

You shut your mouth when you notice a shift in the air. His tone was much colder than before. With that they continued. You relied on your ears, but the only sound you ever heard was multiple footsteps. Yet you could feel magic surging around you. You tried your magic once more, but it was the same as before. Nothing. For a while, they cackled and chat around. You couldn't hear Lilia at all. You dreaded everytime they stop from their tracks. Your nerves gets the better of you as you thout about the king.

Would he be lenient?

Without warning, the cloth on your eyes was suddenly pulled down. You blink your eyes adjusting them before meeting the gaze of the one sitting on a throne. He was already staring at you.

"My king, we have brought a human near the wall." Lilia lowered herself towards the ground, his head tilting downward as he greeted his king. You gasp as you took in the figure. His green-slitted eyes, his cool-black hair was longer than before, and instead of a school uniform, he wore a robe covering most of his body and a bit of the ground. He still had his horns, but what shakes you the most is his stare. It was much scarier than usual.

He looks at you as if your words may fail you or approve your worth under his command.

And you know he will.

Taking a deep breath, you whispered your blessings to the seven. And slowly speak with the king.

"Your Majesty-"

And its done! Stay tune for more~

Taglist

@worldussysblog @daruderuyoo @growingupnrealizing @fluffle-bean @luciel1 @lucid-stories @ykiqlvr @savanaclaw1996 @hachiko-ko

[chillinrpmemes]

'Paradise Lost' - from John Milton sentence starters

originally from @ladys-roleplay-memes but had since been deleted.

❝ Man’s disobedience brings death❞

❝ Rest can never dwell for hope will never come❞

❝ All is not lost ❞

❝ Courage is never to submit or yield ❞

❝ Strongly suffer and support your pains ❞

❝ Out of evil seek to bring forth good ❞

❝ There is fire that burns, and fire that gives warmth❞

❝ What reinforcement we may gain from hope ❞

❝ What resolution we gain from despair ❞

❝ The mind is its own place ❞

❝ The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.❞

❝ What does it matter if I will stay the same❞

❝ Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heaven ❞

❝ Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen ❞

❝ Devils are adored for deities❞

❝ Your eyes are cruel but cast remorse and passions to behold ❞

❝ No one admires the riches that grow in Hell ❞

❝ Behold a wonder! ❞

❝ From this descent virtues will appear ❞

❝ What fear we then? ❞

❝ Our only cure is to be no more❞

❝ This horror will grow mild, this darkness light ❞

❝ What hope is worth waiting for❞

❝ Being happy but ill is not the worst❞

❝ Our torments also may become our elements❞

❝ Purge off this gloom ❞

❝ Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep  ❞

❝ Lower still I fall ❞

❝ I beg of peace ❞

❝ Knowledge of good is enguled by knowing ill❞

❝ What do my eyes with grief behold?❞

❝ Should I at your harmless innocence melt as I do❞

❝ To what else should I abhor ❞

❝ The happier to Eden shall enjoy their fill while I am thrust to Hell❞

❝ It is because one is already in Hell that one kills themselves❞

❝ Who overcomes by force hath overcome but half his foe❞

❝ Neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy❞

❝ New conscience wakes despair ❞

❝ Whichever way I go is Hell; I myself am Hell ❞

❝ So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, ❞

❝ Only ignorance brings a truly happy state❞

❝ I forget all time when I converse with you❞

❝ You are made of all the shades of night❞

❝ To love or not? This is where we stand or fall❞

❝ Revenge, at first though sweet, recoils bitter long back on itself ❞

❝Solitude sometimes is best society, ❞

❝ Short retirement urges sweet return❞

❝ Hope elevates and joy brightens❞

❝I feel the link of nature draw me ❞

❝ Our state cannot be severed; we are one ❞

❝ To lose you would be to lose myself ❞

[nebulablakemurphy]

The Queen’s Hand

(Part VI: Last Supper)

Summary: Y/N Targaryen is Princess of the seven realms. First born daughter of, Viserys I and Aemma Targaryen. Heir to the iron throne, forced to make impossible decisions to ensure peace amongst the land and the safety of those she holds most dear.

Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

King Viserys sits high on his throne, watching the night’s festivities unfold. The ivory material of Aemmia’s dress sways around her as she moves. She and Aemond dancing at the center of the grand hall.

The King has never been particularly close with Aemond, nor the two other children he shares with Alicent. Not because he does not love them, he loves all of his children. But to see him now, the boy turned into a man befitting his granddaughter, Viserys is filled with immense joy.

Y/N and her good husband hath brought him plenty of happiness throughout their lives here. Though his eldest daughter is under the delusion that she still needs him, Viserys knows better. The only person she ever truly needed was her mother, his dear Aemma. Who the gods had so cruelty claimed as payment for his never ending pursuit of a son.

It became clear to the King that Y/N was the one to lead them. She is good and kind, her head ever level. But she chose Rhaenyra over herself. Y/N chose her over everyone. Dimming her own light so that Rhaenyra might shine a bit brighter. Y/N taught him of a love and sacrifice he had never known.

Rhaenyra has shown him unwavering love, the meaning of resilience; stubbornness. She gave him the courage to leave behind Aegon’s dream to chase his own. It was not until Rhaenyra arrived with the children, Aegon III in her arms that he remembered. He is sure now, more than he has ever been. Rhaenyra was born to be queen.

He watches Y/N and her husband with a quiet fondness. You were right, my girl. My brave girl. My clever girl. My darling girl. I will never be ready, but when my time here comes to an end, leaving you happy is a comfort to this old soul.

———————————🌱————————————-

Two days have passed since the wedding. If Aemmia is being truthful, Aemond is not half bad. Mostly he craves attention, though he says he doesn’t want it. And a son. Perhaps a son above all.

Tonight they are to dine at the red keep. With her family and his. Everyone has been on their best behavior, but Aemmia knows; this is the calm before the storm.

“Good morning, my love.” Aemond’s lips find Aemmia’s cheek.

“It’s a bit early to tell.” The brunette leans neither toward nor away from him.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “If there is to be an issue, it will not be by my hand. We’ve done alright so far.”

“Because the lot of us have not yet been in close quarters. I personally believe this to be a mistake, but my mother will hear none of it.”

“Do you find your own mother vexing at times?” The thought has never occurred to him. Y/N is beloved, by Viserys, Rhaenyra, her husband and all the realm.

“But of course, she is my mother.”

The remark is so very…human, it sends Aemond for a loop. “Your mother loves you deeply.”

“As I love her. One does not cancel out the other.” Aemmia laughs it off. “In truth she is wonderful, there is nothing she would not do for me. I shouldn’t say such things.”

“It’s alright,” Aemond assures her. “I do understand, after all I have a rather opinionated mother of my own.”

“The queen is surely that.”

———————————🌱————————————-

“But, father,” Rhaelys whines, “I am old enough to join the dinner table with all of you.”

Harwin sighs, hoisting her into his arms. “Come, my love. I will bring you to Joffrey, you will be dining together with the twins.”

“My presence would please the King.” The little girl insists, squishing her father’s face in her hands.

“Oh, I have no doubt.” Harwin chuckles. Viserys loves her.

“Father…”

“Yes, Rhaelys?” It is hard to look at his youngest daughter and not see Y/N. She gets away with far too much as a result.

“Why do the older children make fun of Jace and Luc?”

“What children?”

Rhaelys shrugs, looking down at the ground as Harwin walks.

“Whatever you have heard…” Harwin pauses to gather himself. “It shouldn’t be said and it must not be repeated. For the sake of your mother, aunt Rhaenyra and your cousins Jacaerys and Lucerys.”

Rhaelys nods, “I understand.”

“When you are grown, you will know all the secrets of the world. All that I have learned and all that you will learn after me, but you need not rush growing older. It will happen fast enough. Sometimes it is easier not knowing.”

Y/N spots her husband carrying Rhaelys down the corridor.

Rhaelys peeks over at her mother with a smile, reaching a hand toward her.

The Princess catches up, to take her daughter’s hand over Harwin’s shoulder.

“You look so pretty, Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. As do you.”

“Do you think I could sit with you for just a little while?”

“Five minutes?” Harwin turns to his wife. “Surely they will allow her five minutes.”

“Joffrey and the twins do not get five minutes.” Y/N points out, stroking her daughter’s white curls. “We must be fair-”

“And firm.” Rhaelys finishes for her. “I know.” She pouts.

“I will come for you straight after, hmm? And I shall read your bedtime story tonight.” Harwin tells her.

Rhaelys nods, carrying her grudge to the dining table and after they have long left the room.

Harwin offers his wife his arm.

Y/N takes it, “that child has you by the neck.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean.” Harwin replies, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

Y/N butts his shoulder with her own.

“Princess!” Harwin gasps, in mock outrage, before returning the gesture.

They carry on down to the dining hall. Bringing their soft laughter to an end, ready for duty.

“Aunt Y/N,” Lucerys calls, stopping her at the door. “Might I have a word?”

“Of course.” Y/N reaches out to squeeze her nephew’s arm. “Save me a seat, will you?” She turns to Harwin.

“As you wish.” Harwin nods, leaving the two of them to speak.

“Lucerys?” Y/N steps to the side of the entryway, so that no one might be bothered by their conversing.

“I have been thinking, about Vaemond. What he said during the petition. I have long since accepted that I…may be all of those things.” A bastard. A Strong. “But in a world where everyone treated me differently; debated my parentage, you never did. Even though you know the truth in your heart, same as I do. You never stopped fighting for me, advocating for me. The love you hath given me is second to only that of my mother. Your hand has secured me the Driftmark throne. Though I am not worthy, thank you for believing in me. On my honor, you will not regret it.”

“Luc,” Y/N shakes her head. “I could never regret it. In my years with your father, Laenor, I came to know him very well. He was a dear friend to me and I know this is what he wanted. And beyond that, you are a good boy, Lucerys. I have held you and your brothers in my heart as dearly as my own children. I am so proud of the man you are becoming and I await the day I see you seated as Lord of the Tides. You are worthy. You need not thank me.”

He pauses for a moment, blinking at her, then slowly puts his arms around her. “I love you…and thank you, anyway.”

Y/N returns the embrace, smoothing down his dark hair; the same as her own children. “I love you more. You are welcome, now and forever.”

———————————🌱————————————-

“It fills me with both joy and anguish, to see these faces gathered round the table. The people I hold most dear in all the world, grown so distant from each other. But, there is new hope. With Aemmia and Aemond’s union, our houses might stand together once more. It is time to put aside your differences, if not for yourselves, then for the sake of this old man.” Viserys draws in a breath, looking between his children, grandchildren and wife. “Who loves you all so dearly.”

Rhaenyra is the first to stand. Raising her cup to her sister first, for taking care of their father and for the undying love she has shown her. “After the death of our mother, it was you who cried with me, you who comforted me on every sleepless night. My sister, you are better than I deserve. In light of our recent separation, I hope we can become as close as we once were.“

Y/N shoots her a watery smile, “I raise my cup to you, little sister. You have been my guiding light, each time I wish to give in, I think of you. I think of our mother and her dying wish. That I always look out for you, protect you, prepare you for this world and shield you from it. I have no doubt we will mend this rift between us.”

Rhaenyra returns her smile. “I would also like to lift my glass to the Queen. I love my father, but no one has stood by him like his good wife. To you and your continued good health.”

“Your graciousness moves me, Princess.” Alicent says, truthfully. “We are both mothers and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow. You will make a fine queen.”

Aemond huffs a laugh.

Aemmia shooting daggers at her husband.

Aemond says not a word, taking his wife’s hand and pressing his lips to the back of it.

She rolls her dark eyes at the display.

Aegon and Jace are also going at it, quietly down the line.

When Jacaerys has had enough he moves to stand.

Aemond follows suit, watching him intently. Ignoring Aemmia’s hushed protests and tugging at his wrist.

“Here we go.” Y/N murmurs to Harwin.

He claps her on the back once. “Here we go.”

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond,” Jace begins, “though we have not seen each other in years, I have fond memories of our shared childhood. I hope in years to come, that we may be friends and allies.”

“That’s a boy,” Viserys nods.

They all drink to that.

“I would like to toast, Baela and Rhaena.” Halaena is next, “they are to be married soon. It’s not so bad, mostly he just ignores you. Except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Aemond bursts out at this, Aemmia choking on her wine. Aegon opens his mouth in shock, though no words will come.

“Good,” Otto mouths at his granddaughter, as she sits with a proud smile.

“Let us have some music.” The King says, sparing them from anymore unwanted details of Aegon and Helaena’s marriage woes.

The children begin breaking off in pairs. Aemond and Aemmia, Jace and Helaena.

Viserys watches them in wonder. Y/N scoots her chair closer to Harwin to give her father a better view. But he can still find her there, the silhouette of her face. Changed so from a babe, to a child, to a woman. And that of Rhaenyra, only a year behind, both of them grown with families of their own.

A mix of light and dark hair swirls about, in a myriad of laughter, love. With Alicent by his side, his family all together. He is whole. The prospect moves him to tears. To have all he’s ever dreamed of, right at the bitter end. Viserys wishes he had more time to enjoy it. More time with all of them.

“Guards,” Alicent waves them over. It is time for her husband to retire.

———————————🌱————————————-

“Aemma.” Viserys chokes out.

“It’s me, father. It’s Y/N.” She reminds him, his chamber is dimly lit.

“Forgive me,” he apologizes, “you look so like your mother.”

Y/N reaches over to take his hand, “she was more beautiful than I.”

“Do you remember when you were a girl? The promise I made to you and you to me? The song of ice and fire.”

“Shh,” Y/N hushes him.

“Aegon’s dream. Tis true. You are the one, you made it so. Rhaenyra’s son. From my blood will come the prince that is promised. Aegon, little Aegon. Guide him as you have guided your sister, as I have guided you.” He gasps for breath.

“I remember,” Y/N assures him.

“I longed to do so much more.”

“Father, this is your legacy. All of us together. You have done plenty. I know it means the world to you, as you mean the world to me. I will do everything in my power to honor and keep the connections you have built.”

“My first born child. You can mend our house whole, if you wish it.” Viserys rambles on. “When I am gone, do not to mourn me so. Know in your heart that my only regret stays the inability to witness you stand tall as hand to your sister, the Queen.”

Y/N lowers her head, blinking back tears. “I cannot help but mourn you, Father. No one will love me as you have.”

And if she knew those words to be the last she’d ever speak to her father, Y/N would not change them.

Part VII

Taglist @evyiione @giulia2372 @bubblebuttwade @hotd-fanfic @leoramage @hyperfiaxed-freak

[linda-ravstar]

A conversation between a would-be God and his other half (St. Trina and Miquella, Shadow of the Erdtree spoilers)

I haven't finished the game yet, but I've already seen several important things, and the relationship between Miquella and his other half breaks my heart. Maybe I'm missing details, but I don't think it's such a far-fetched interpretation (and I'll expand on it when I have more info and energy). I need to mourn Miquella to be able to keep playing in peace, haha. Enjoy!

“Miquella... What are you doing?”

Trina's voice, which once brought him peace and joy, now filled him with a dark bitterness, a sticky, cynical rage that clung to his skin like blood. The lamp's light barely illuminated the desk, where the golden strokes of his pen drew schemes. Futures that had to materialize. Plans that would soon be set in motion.

“Have you come to reproach me?”, he asked, without turning or taking his eyes off the parchment in front of him. “After everything that has happened?”

 Purple flooded the light of the room, drowning the golden hue of the oil lamp. Somehow, Trina's purple always managed to surpass his gold. It used to be a welcome sight. It used to be a nice game.

“The path you seek will only bring pain and suffering. Marika has already walked it, and the broken world she left behind is proof of her failure”.

“It is proof of Mother's failure, not of the path she walked”, Miquella countered.

“Do you think you can succeed where she failed? Do you think your power is greater than hers?”

“Yes”, he said, but doubt resided in his heart, the same heart that had his other half. “It has to be”.

“What will happen to everyone? To your siblings? To the tree? To Malenia? Are you willing to risk everything for... that?”

He couldn't enchant her, just as he couldn't enchant himself. He always remained serene, kind, because that was also part of that strange essence that inhabited alongside him. It was easier to charm some this way, those who, docile before his power, could look him in the eyes with affection and admiration. But he couldn't convince Trina that way. His small, fragile fist crashed against the wooden table in a muffled crash, splashing ink all over the desk.

“How can you ask me that?”, Miquella's voice rose above the broken silence, and he turned to look her in the eyes. Trina smiled at him, with a sweet sadness that only filled him with dispair. “How can you stand there, doing nothing, watching what is happening? What do you want from me? Look at this world! Look at our siblings! What else are we going to wait for?”

“Becoming a god won't fix the world”.

“You're wrong. It's the only way. It's all that's left to do”.

“You will lose everything you ever fought to save... It will be a tragedy that could be avoided”.

Tears sprang from Miquella's eyes. He wanted to hurt Trina, wanted to rip that sad smile from her lips.

“I have achieved nothing”, Miquella said finally, after a tense silence. His voice broke on the last word. “Absolutely nothing. I have... I have failed over and over again for millennia... I tried to find that other path… you of all people know that. It doesn't exist. There is no other path. Neither the Golden Order, nor Fundamentalism, nor the Unalloyed Gold, nor my needles, nor the Haligree... And Godwyn still... Nothing has managed to fix this broken and rotten world. The innocent remain enslaved. The gods remain silent. And Malenia...” The young demigod closed his eyes, feeling the guilt in his veins. “She has so much faith in me... that I will fix this world... I'd rather lose everything than continue like this. If I have to burn this world to save it, I will. If I have to enchant thousands of souls to follow my path, I will. I can't look back. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t”.

“And will you betray your principles? Sacrifice innocents, steal their hearts, destroy your body and soul on an uncertain altar?", asked Trina, with a somber tone on her voice.

“I must do it”, he insisted, but his hands were trembling. “They will understand... When the world smiles again, when I can look into Malenia's eyes again, golden and innocent, when my Lord Brother takes my hand and we reign together in a land that has healed its wounds, when a new order welcomes everyone in its embrace...”

“When you are a God, Miquella, there will be no one left there to forgive you. Mother tried to heal her people with her golden light, but there was no one left who could listen to her. No one who could forgive her”.

“So be it then”, said Miquella. “So be it... My power will be enough, I will become a god, I will have my King consort by my side and I will bring forth a New Age, a Compassionate Age for all”, that was his dream, the dream of a helpless child, his obsession, his hope. “I will…. I will…”

Trina lowered her gaze and approached her other half. Miquella was trembling, and golden tears stained his childlike face. Trina took the boy's face, who, for a moment, clung to those hands like a puppy to a mother.

“I know there is nothing I can do or say to stop you. I wish it were different, that you could see what I see, the path of peace we could walk. But I know your wounds are too deep, that your pain blinds you, that your hope is your last comfort”. Trina's caress was as sweet as it was terrible. “We know the pain that awaits you, the pain you will cause, and the uncertainty of the outcome. We know that godhood is a prison”. Trina sighed for a second and laughed softly. “I cannot stop you, nor can you stop me. I just want to say this before this journey breaks us both completely: I know your heart, and I know it suffers for this world. I know your soul and I know it cries for your sister. I know your very being longs for peace and solace. This is you, this is us. We dream of a kind and gentle world, with the smile of our people and the scent of flowers. I know you seek that world of goodness. I know you fought to do good and heal the wounded. I will keep that certainty within me. That no matter what you do now and the terrible sins you commit... that this was you, that this was us and that this was what we were destined to be. Let me mourn you, my dearest Miquella, my dear other half. Let me say goodbye one last time. May dreams bring you the peace that your path will take away. And if no one else forgives you, let me forgive you..."

The violet slowly faded, leaving only the gold that began to dim in the lamp. The night was still, and the air smelled of sweet lilies.

Miquella rested his head on the desk and wept, alone.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Mother Mary | The Joys And Fears Of Motherhood | Platonic [Male Reader]

Dialogue prompt: "You did a good job with Him."

When Mary is uncertain whether she has been a good mother to her Son, you reassure her of her worth.

Requested by J Bart

The Mount of Olives is one of Mary’s favourite spots to retreat to nowadays. Although not present herself at the time of her Son’s ascension, she finds solace in standing here, gazing up at the sky with the knowledge that He will return one day, and that she is favoured by God Himself. The burden of being the mother of the Son of God was — and still is, in some way — heavy. Mary never truly understood the true meaning of Jesus’ ministry, the full picture of what had to happen, until the moment was there that He gave the Spirit and the days afterwards. Now that He has returned to heaven to sit at His Father’s right hand, she misses Him like a mother would miss her child under any other circumstance. Son of God or not, He had still been her boy, the One she birthed and raised, and somewhere deep down inside her heart, He would always be that, regardless of divinity.

Jesus had instructed John to take in Mary as if she were his own mother, and the son of Thunder hadn’t hesitated to take on his Master’s command. Whereas John the Beloved had become her son to look after her, she liked spending time with the rest of His followers, too, you included. “Will you walk with me?” she had asked you this morning on the threshold of your home. You hadn’t hesitated to join her on one of her routine walks to the place she liked to visit so much.

You’re carrying a bag containing lunch and water skins, not wanting to encumber Mary with the heavy items as you walk up the mount where Jesus had been taken into heaven. She’s walking next to you with that particular kind smile she usually wears. Even for a woman who suffered so much through the afflictions of her son, knowing she would lose Him one day, she remains strong and positive in the face of hardship. From your mother, you had learnt that parenthood was difficult in and of itself, so you’d reckon that being the mother of the Messiah would be even heavier to digest. 

Everything about this woman is admirable. You’d only be so lucky to have an ounce of her resilience. From what you have learnt over the past years of travelling at Jesus’ side, you know that these words are better to be said out loud to the person in question. Perhaps you’ll find a good moment to tell her.

The two of you veer off the beaten path and find the field where the Disciples had told you Jesus had ascended into heaven. Neither you nor Mary had borne witness to this event, but knowing that this was the place where it had happened brings some solace into your heart. Not that it would ultimately matter, for no place on Earth is as holy as the Son of Man Himself and the last thing you want is for the soil He stood on to become an idol in and of itself, but still you find peace in knowing His promise of return. Be it in a few months, years, perhaps even centuries. Another valuable lesson you have taken away is that God’s definition of ‘soon’ is not only variable, but also very different from what mortal men may consider ‘soon’. 

The sun is at its highest point and shines down on you with a ferocity that has you squint against the bright blue sky. Mary narrows her gaze a bit as she looks up, folding her hands on her back as she deeply inhales. “Thank you for coming with me, son.” she muses. 

“Of course.” you reply, “I like spending time with you. Makes me feel like I still have an eema in some way, even though John is like your son, now.” Mary gives you a gentle look as you mention your late mother. 

“Ah, I’d be happy to fill that role in some way, if only in listening to you.” 

“Just your presence and kind words are enough, really.” you admit. 

“Well, I’m glad to. And in a way, I feel a little like the mother of all of you.” 

Lightly chuckling, you reach into your bag to offer her a drink of water. She accepts it and takes a long swig from the waterskin. Something flashes inside her gaze, her eyes turning to the clouds, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips as she takes another thoughtful sip.

She hands it back to you. 

“You must miss Him a lot.” 

Mary hums. “You have no idea.” There is a certain edge in her voice you’ve rarely heard on her. You put an arm around her, giving her a side-hug, which she reciprocates fondly.

“Some days are easier than others.” Mother Mary remains positive. “And there is no other woman who can say she gave birth to the Son of God.” 

“Changed His nappies, too.” 

Mary laughs at that a bit. “Son of God, yet fully human.” 

“Fully human indeed. I recall the stories you used to tell us around the fire. I’ve never seen Nathanael so horrified.” 

She laughs and rests a hand on her cheek as she sighs, turning her gaze to the sky again, almost as if she is expecting for her Son to come back for a few minutes just for her. “I know that I am greatly blessed.”

“You are. And I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we greatly admire you.”

Mary lets out a high pitched hum and gives you a gentle smile. “Hm. That’s very sweet of you to say, (Y/n). But you’re giving me too much credit. It is Jesus Who deserves all the praise.”

You sigh at her humble nature.

“Don’t be hard on yourself.” 

A brief silence. The soft look falls from her features and makes place for a frown instead as she stares at the grass below for a moment. “Sometimes… I just feel like I could have done better.” Mother Mary confesses, “I know I’m not perfect, no one is except Jesus Himself, but… Well, being His mother has added so much extra weight to my task.”

“I have yet to meet a mother who is perfect.” you say. “I know many mothers. I knew the eema of Peter and Andrew. She wasn’t perfect. And Salome, do you think she’s perfect? No, not even closely. My own eema, may she rest in peace, was full of flaws, too. Did I love her any less because of it? Of course not. Do James and John hold it against their mother that she sometimes runs her mouth? They love her just as much. Peter and Andrew only talk positively about their late eema.” 

Mary listens to your words, her uncertainty melting away. “You did a good job with Him. You brought Him up well. You have taken care of Him through it all, remained patient with Him, taught Him how to traverse life like the rest of us. And in the end — although this is not the end — He is right where He should be. He has done what He had been sent to do in the first place, done the will of the Father.” 

She mulls over your words for a moment, weighing their worth whilst digesting their truth. You were correct; Every choice she has ever made in her life regarding her Son has led to this very reality. And along the way, she has made it easier for Him. Mary remained a source of motherly comfort wherever she could, and maybe, just maybe, the thought of her has helped him reach Him the cross, too. After all, Jesus died and rose not for those who don’t know Him, but also to those closest to Him — even His own mother was in need of salvation after all, as she had sung in her joyous melody upon visiting her late aunt Elizabeth. 

Both of you cast your gazes upwards towards the skies as one being, where you knew Jesus had ascended into heaven to be with the Father, to return at a moment and time no one knew. It could be ten years, a hundred, a thousand. You have learnt during your time with Jesus, the meaning of soon can be different depending on the context as well as on the person in question uttering the term — patient or impatient, human or divine — and keeping that in mind you are well aware that in this lifetime, you might not see Him anymore, but beyond that. And what is this moment, this very life, compared to eternity itself?

Mary lets out a shivering sigh, a solemn edge to the sound. “I miss Him.” 

“I’m sure He misses you, too. Mary, you’ve been the best eema you could have been. You have completed an honourable task and I’m certain you will be elevated about it for ages to come. God sees your heart, knows your thoughts, your struggles. And He knows you did well. You did all you could, and you’ve done so splendidly.” 

A cloud drifts in front of the sun, casting a shadow over the two of you. It brings forth a cooler breeze. “I brought date cakes.” Mary says, referring to the paper-wrapped package she had given to you earlier to put inside the bag. “They’re likely melting away.” 

“Oh, they’ve got honey in them?” 

She nods and smiles, causing your stomach to involuntarily rumble. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Let’s sit for a while.” 

The sugary date cakes stick to your fingers as Mary hands you one. You thank her, saying a quick prayer over it before you dig in. The treat melts on your tongue and you hum. “These were one of Jesus’ favourite foods when He was a child.” Mary tells you, causing your interest to pique. 

“Really?” 

“Mh-mm. I was very surprised when He first tried them and immediately asked for more, seeing that He had a very strong dislike towards raisins.” 

“Raisins? Really? How come I’ve never known this? We had— Jesus sometimes ate raisins while on the road.” You snort a laugh. “I’m very confused right now.” 

Mary laughs and licks some honey from her lips before swallowing her bite of food. “Hm… I know that Jesus didn’t complain about any food while travelling. He knew it was scarce and if He had to eat it, of course He would do so without whimpering about it. But whenever I gave Him the choice between cakes with or without raisins, He always chose the latter. I won’t say that Jesus refused to eat them, I’m just trying to say that… He had preferences.” 

“As we all do.” you muse at the lighthearted story about Mary’s experiences with raising the Son of God. “Fully divine, yet fully human.” 

“Before He rose again, yes.” Mary sighs, smiling as she finishes the rest of her sweet treat. You take another bite of yours and observe the older woman as she rinses the stickiness from her hands with a bit of water. “Now, He has returned to His Father in full glory.” 

The clouds leave the sun alone again, drifting away to allow warm rays to cast over your faces. Mary closes her eyes, basking in it.

“I can’t wait to see Him again.” you confess suddenly. “And until then, we will praise Him. And spread the Word of God, as He commanded us to do. To go to the ends of the Earth to make it known.” 

Mary lets out a pleasant sound before turning to you again. “I wish I could still do more, but these old bones…” 

You give a small shake of your head, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You have done enough. You have been working so hard for more than thirty years. I think it’s high time that you’ve earned your rest. Just be a witness of Him however you can. The students, all the believers, we will answer to our own calling. Take it easy, okay? You feel things as much as any other mother does, grief and wistfulness, and there is nothing wrong with that. Allow yourself time, and the rest will sort itself out, as long as we focus on Him.” 

You gesture at the sky, a movement that Mary follows with her eyes before she looks at you again. 

“You have wise words in you, (Y/n). I am certain that God will use you for His glory.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips. “I’m sure of it, too. Now, I was wondering…” Her eyes widen a bit as you lean closer to her, your smile turning into a grin. “Do you have any more of these lovely date cakes?” 

Mary laughs lightly and pats your shoulder, reaching for the package again. “Of course. You boys are always so hungry for seconds.” 

Gratefully, you dig into a second piece of cake as she fondly watches you enjoy the sweet treat. Mary knew she had to bring enough of it. It is a part of her motherly instinct that she will never quite lose, no matter how much time passes. 

[many-sparrows]

hello. I just found you page. Can I tell you a life story? I’m sorry in advance

I became Christian in 2022. Prior to that I was an atheist. I’ve always been an avid tumblr user because the community here is incredible and relatable no matter what you’re interested in. I had an account not centered around God at that time and felt lonely and hungry to meet fellow lovers of Jesus. So I poked around a bit and saw Christian communities here and there but not really. I saw more God-hating than God-loving and it made me feel isolated and despondent. So I went to other social medias and have been spending time there in the “”Christian”” communities. It’s a battlefield out there. I’m exhausted. Today I decided to give tumblr another shot and make an entirely new account to curate my feed for Jesus. And that’s when I found your account. It felt like coming home

That’s all. Thank you for existing. God bless you forever

Ah shucks, Hi friend. Welcome to the family, enjoy the agape feast.

It is, in fact, a battlefield out there, especially on social media and especially if you're looking for a Christian community that isn't either riddled with end times conspiracies nor riding the tide of Christian nationalism, as the loudest social media communities do (neither of which I find to be particularly biblical). There is a pocket of folks on Instagram I follow, who are doing a good job at sharing God's love, if you want their @'s.

God never promises that it will be easy, because Love makes things more complicated. It makes us lay down our weapons of self-protection and open ourselves up to being wounded. It makes us force ourselves into empathy with people that have hurt us and the people we care about, which is much harder than the alternative. But Love finds a way, it always does.

Remember that God is a God of Peace, and that none of this walk is possible without the Peace that God first brings to you. It's ok to prioritize your relationship with God and with God's Peace before going out to fight the battles we are called to. Find the places where you can hear the still small voice (wherever that may be for you) and retreat whenever you have to.

How joyous that you are here! I hope you feel that joy in your life, we are glad to have you at the table.

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 1

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1747

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst (mild)

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 1

You’d think being something supernatural you’d prefer to stay away from people, and live more of a solitary sort of life, but no. You like people, love laughter, and having a job with amazing coworkers brings you a sense of peace and happiness in your life.

One of your best friends at work is Sarah. She’s adorable, fun, and goofy, and you both make each other laugh all day at work while you unbox the truck shipment and get things on the hummers and into the bluebins, to get put out later.

She knows what you are, sort of. Although, not even you yet know the actual name of what you are. You haven’t found anyone you can really trust outside your immediate family to tell the whole truth to. Hell, you don’t need to scare anyone. Most people have no clue what’s really out there and you like keeping it that way. You’ve researched to find a name for what you are but so far, there isn’t a single thing that has your abilities/powers description. 

As you’re out on the floor, getting out one of the hummers with the kitchen items on it, your mind wanders back. When did it start, you think to yourself, absentmindedly. Four years, five now. You’re not sure anymore. Technically you’re in your early forties but ever since it happened, you feel like you’re in your mid to late twenties again. It also seemed as though aging had practically stopped. Most things a forty-year-old body would go through, you haven’t been experiencing. Just the opposite, you truly feel as though you’ve been getting physically younger.

“Excuse me, do you work here?” A woman asks, pulling you from your thoughts, as she can’t see the nametag hanging around your neck with how you’re standing.

You turn to her with a friendly smile, “Yup, how can I help you?”

“I’m just looking for a pan I can cover the top of my stove with,” the woman attempted to explain.

Neither you nor the woman knew the exact name of that particular thing, but glancing down, you notice a rather large cookie sheet on the shelf on the endcap of the aisle you’re stocking, “This might work,” you tell her, picking it up.

The woman is impressed, looking it over, “How much is it?” she asks.

You flip it over and find the tag, “Nine dollars,” you let her know, “Not bad. This is really nice.”

“What about that price? Fifteen?” the woman asks.

“Oh, that is the price you’d find it for at another store. Our price is always on the bottom of the tag,” you reassure her.

The woman is very happy, letting you know that if it doesn’t work to cover her stove, she’ll be making cookies. Of course, this is when your lighthearted side comes out, “I’m here Monday through Friday, always in the afternoons,” you tell her, playfully.

She finds you adorable, smiling at your playfulness and the two of you spend almost three full minutes talking about cookies before she thanks you for your help. You know it will bring your times down that you have to run the hummer in, but to you, seeing a customer smiling and enjoying their visit to the store is what brings you the most joy at work.

You smile happily to yourself as the woman goes on about her shopping trip and you get back to running your hummer of kitchen items. It’s while you’re putting out some of the food that the mess of the section bothers you again. This is one thing you’re not responsible for, straightening the shelves up to make them look nice. You frown a bit, seeing that there is nowhere to put out the box of bagged oats. Checking around, and not seeing anyone nearby, you just think that there is room on the shelf, that it looks a little neater, and it happens in less than the blink of an eye. 

What you didn’t notice was that you were being watched. A man, in his mid-thirties was standing near the women’s clothing racks, just watching you. He was fairly average, with short brown hair, and brown eyes, only about an inch taller than you, wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, a hoodie, and sneakers. 

You finished the kitchen hummer and then grabbed a toy one, making sure to write down your times on the sheet in the stockroom. The toy hummers were a little different. They had toys, pets, and craft supplies. Being a kid at heart, as well as loving anything stationary, you loved running these hummers. As you were putting out some of the dog toys, you heard the sound of one of the bluebins heading in your direction. It was like the hummers but those bluebins were for women's, men's, and children's items specifically.

Sarah was soon standing at the end of the pet aisle, phone up and recording, a playful smile on her lips, “Aaaannd, you’re fired,” she tried to say seriously.

You pretend to look upset and sad, then toss your arms up with playfulness, “Party at my house!”

The two of you laugh as she saves the video, only to post it online later, your Stockroom Antics tag included. The man who had been watching you earlier continues to do so. Every aisle seems to be a bit of a mess today, so again, you think about it looking a little nicer. Only a little though, you don’t need to draw unwanted attention to yourself from your boss if they watch the cameras.

Ten minutes before your shift ends, Sarah comes back up to you, “Code 99 me?” she asks, and you smirk.

“Oh, so if I don’t, that means you’re stuck here,” you chuckle.

“Not cool,” she replies, playfully, “Should I go find someone else?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Na, I’ll let you out,” you laugh a little. 

The two of you walk to the front of the store, in front of the doors so that you’re both on camera. Sarah opens her bag, and you peek in, “Looks good. See you tomorrow?” you tell her.

“Yup. See ya,” she replies before leaving.

You smile a bit and head to the stockroom. There’s always some cleanup that needs to be done and you enjoy doing those little things that there never seems to be time for others to do. The man continues to watch you, and you still haven’t noticed him, not really anyway. You’d seen him, yes, but to you, he’s just another customer.

The backroom isn’t bad, not today. The girl is working on tagging the shoes with the alarms while a couple of other girls are in the clothing pods tagging clothes and getting them on racks to go out either later on or the following morning. You get some sweeping done, straighten up the bluebins and hummers, then bid them all farewell for the evening. Just as you reach the register to clock out, your ‘end of shift’ alarm goes off.

“Thank you phone,” you say out loud, pulling it out of your back pocket, and then turn it off. Smiling and shaking your head a little.

“See you guys tomorrow,” you tell the two cashiers as you punch out. 

They smile and say goodbye as you head for the door. Since you don’t carry a purse, there’s no need to have a code 99 before you leave. The air is a little crisp, it being the beginning of January in Southern Arizona and you put the hood of your hoodie over your head. It’s been a cold few weeks, although this week has been the worst with the rain. For three days now the low in the mornings has been in the upper twenties and the days barely over fifty. That’s cold for where you live but it happens every so many years.

As you’re walking toward your truck, which you love with all your heart, the man from earlier is following you still. The chill doesn’t seem to be bothering him at all. For now, you believe he’s still just a customer, not paying him much attention. The wind blows just right, from behind you, and all you can smell is sulfur, and a chill runs down your back. You take a deep breath though, calming your nerves. You should have known that picking a job across the street from where you had previously worked wasn’t the best of ideas.

You stayed calm as you walked to your truck. She was quite the beast of a truck. A 91’ F350 XLT Lariat, crew cab, long bed, with a two-inch lift, 1500 lb leaf springs, and 4-wheel drive. You hadn’t saved up enough to have her fixed up like you wanted but you loved her dearly. As you rounded the hood, the man pushed you against your truck, right in front of the tire.

“Found you,” he said in a low, pleased tone, smiling devilishly, “The boss is gonna be pleased.”

Without thinking you put your hand on his chest and the black smoke of the demon's soul began expelling out of his mouth, toward the ground. This wasn’t the first time you’d had to deal with demons and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. The demon looked at you through the man’s eyes, almost in terror but more in shock at what you were doing. He apparently didn’t get the memo of what had happened to the last demon that had gotten too close to you. A smirk crossed your lips as the demon's soul left the man’s body, went into the ground, back to hell where it belonged. 

With the demon now gone, the man was unconscious. You sighed before carefully dragging him over to the closest tree in the parking lot, which you had parked near, and propped him against it. At least he was still alive. Most demons rode whoever they possessed hard, usually killing them in the process. He’ll wake later, you told yourself before heading home.

That night you thought long and hard about whether or not to go back to work the following day. You knew the demon would tell his boss, whom you’d never met, just heard about. That’s when you sat up a little straighter on your couch, a determination in your eyes.

“I’m not letting demons run me out of a job I love,” you said confidently.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in this one, and future chapters, leave me a comment and let me know. :)

Link to the series Master List

[normatural]

PART II - [previous part]

Summary: Reader is Aemond’s best friend and different from most of his family, she’s always by his side. Past, present and future.

Warning(s): death, violence, language. usual hotd content (if you find something trigerring, please let me know). There's a hint of Jacerys x reader.

A/N: This is nine years after the first part. For the sake of the story, Jacerys is 18 and please, let's pretend the Red Keep has a much richer garden, thanks.

masterlist || [ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE]

There was something so oddly peaceful about the garden despised whatever chaos was happening inside the bold stone walls of the Targaryen castle. All worries and headaches seemed to fade as soon as a foot was stepped on the open space. Which undoubtedly had become your favourite place, the vast library coming closely in the second spot.

It was another sunny day in King’s Landing and neither you nor princess Helaena could stand being another second in her chambers so it was why you ended up sitting on the soft green grass of the royal garden, reading her a book as she embroidered a beautiful blue butterfly on the fabric, glancing now and then at her children playing with wooden dragons. The only good thing she gained from the marriage with her unfaithful brother. 

“She will urns bright wild before blooming free” She mumbled and you furrowed your brows, turning to face her only to be met with the princess extending the embroidery to you.

The princess would often and randomly murmur unusual things and you’ve grown used to it after all those years along with her. Those things have often proved to be true but you would never dare to suggest to anyone that she had the gift of visions. It has been already hard enough to attract suitors being the way you were, it seemed, you wouldn't risk getting on the bad side of the Queen.

You smiled, tracing the contour of its wings as your heart raced. There were many nights in which you’d sit in this same place, under the large tree, wishing you could be free like a butterfly, to have your wings so you could fly to wherever you desired and whenever you wished but you were simply trapped like a caterpillar in a cocoon. A fancy and wealthy cocoon but a cocoon nonetheless.

“It is beautiful, Hela. Would you mind gifting me with one?” You looked at her when she placed a hand on your forearm, a girlish smile adorning her lips and you furrowed your brows before following her gaze to the other side of the garden.

Underneath the shadow of another red-leave tree and dressed in pitch black, Aemond’s slim figure stood quietly watching the both of you, far away for anyone to notice the slight tilt of his lips upward as his chest relaxed from the earlier meeting with the Council as it would usually happen whenever he caught even the smallest glimpse of you.

“Dear sister, would you mind if I stole Lady Y/N for a walk?” He nodded his head as approached the two of you, his eye focused on you as he waited for an answer despise not needing one.

The elder princess may be an innocent soul but she wasn’t blind to the soft gaze of her younger brother towards you and how he would make questions about your persona whenever he visited her. What she has been reading? Does she miss her home? Has she mentioned any lord?

Aemond offered you a hand and pulled you up, walking by your side in silence as neither of you felt the need to talk, finding comfort merely in the presence of the other. At the sign of the hedge maze, Aemond linked your arm with his, a subtle smile making its way to his lips as he saw your tinted cheeks. Watch you blush never ceased to bring him joy and forget, for a moment, what a disaster had happened to his face though it had been years since the prince stopped drowning himself in self-pity. He who rode the largest dragon, an intelligent and strong man, one of the best swordsmen in all of Westeros wouldn’t act like a sorry fool. At least, not when he could make you flustered.

“I saw something today that reminded me of you” He studied your face, brushing a rebel strand of hair away from your eye before he stopped, reaching inside the pocket of his jacket to take the chamois leather bag “Now close your eyes and turn around.”

You gave him a suspicious look, only turning around as he arched a brow, urging you to do as told.

His hand carefully pushed your hair away from your back. The brush of his fingers against the nape of your neck sends a chain of shivers down your body and you were sure he noticed the way your body slightly shook, fidging with your fingers before you finally caught sight of what was it that he got for you, gasping.

The necklace was a beautiful work of silver and seven small square emeralds circled like petals by even smaller leaf-shaped diamonds, cold and shining against your skin. The colors of the Hightower house.

“This is...” you blinked, softly touching the jewellery while trying to look down at it, hoping to ignore the insistent gaze of your friend.

“Beautiful” he hums, tracing the chain of rich stones on your neck before he could stop himself, not daring to turn his eye away from your face. Though his word wasn’t directed exclusively to the silver piece 

“It is and it is also expensive, Aemond. I can not accept it, maybe Hela or the Queen would like it as well.” Stepping away from him, you tried to reach for the hook behind your neck, knowing it wasn't an argument you could win it him.

“It is for you and only, Y/N” The prince grabs your arm before you can move further away or reach to unhook the gift “It bothers me how sometimes you speak as if you aren’t deserving of the finest things in life. You... You shouldn’t settle for less than your worth.”

"Thank you, A." You smile, placing your hand over his and squeezing it, ignoring the butterflies the touch seemed to awaken in your stomach "Though I must insist, enough with expensive gifts. Those should be reserved for someone more special. Your betrothed."

Aemond could only think that there was no other more special than you in his life and that deep down, he hoped you could be both: his best friend and wife but he should not go saying his heart out without too many thoughts. He was a prince and had duties to honour for his family. Unfortunately, marriage was one of them.

“Hmm." He hummed, playing with the tips of your fingers, the soft skin a loud contrast against his rough ones before he pulled his hand away to hold behind his back, eye looking at you again. "My father will be hosting a dinner for my... dear sister and nephews tonight. Can I save you a seat?"

It had been nine years since Rhaenyra and her children last stepped foot in this castle, a night after the eye of the prince was taken and the gap between the Queen and the Queen-to-be turned into an abyss that could not be mended ever again.

Such a thing was unspoken but you knew that the prince wasn't quite ready to meet the people who took more than a piece of him and your company would at least, keep him more steady. Little did you know your presence could also be the reason to wake the dragon in him.

“I’ll be there, my prince. Right by your side."

The picture of the man’s head cut in half was still fresh in your mind, the dry sound of the body hitting the floor and the iron smell of blood that seemed to overtake the room.

“How did he do that, Aemond? With a single blow?” You whispered, holding the skirt of your dress to keep up with the pace of the prince’s long legs striding across the hallway.

“Valyrian steel is the sharpest and strongest material that our people has ever seen.” He can’t help but smirks as some servants quietly and hurriedly walk past them next to the walls, heading for the throne room to clean the mess that his uncle did. At least, someone in his family wasn't a complete bore.

“I often tend to say that Dark Sister was made for nobler tasks than slaughtering sheep. She has a thirst for blood.” The deep voice came from your side and you jumped, quickly bowing as you spotted the rogue prince leaning against the wall. His gaze fixed on something behind you. Aemond.

A silent threat or perhaps, a warning, for the younger Targaryen standing proudly across from him as both of them knew Aemond and his brother, Aegon, had more than their share calling the three dark-haired princes bastards.

“Prince Daemon.” You offered him a small smile as if he wasn’t the one who killed a man so abruptly an hour earlier but if you needed to be honest with yourself, the act had a romantic undertone for the prince was defending the honour of his wife and family. “Did Carrax come with you?”

An amused smile danced on his lips as he looked back and forth at you and his young nephew standing protective close behind you, chuckling as he shook his head. “Interesting.”

“Excuse me, Your Highness?”

“Nothing. I just thought the pair of you would be married already. I suppose I was wrong.”

Aemond groaned, walking to your other side in an attempt to escort you back to the dining room and you gladly accept. 

“That is a beautiful necklace, Y/N” Alicent turned at you as Jacaerys sat down, hoping to calm the tension that seemed hard to dissipate.

“Thank you, my Queen. It was a gift” you smiled, your hand instinctively touching the piece as you could feel your cheeks burning.

Aemond had given you many gifts before but lately, it seems they have been growing expensive and often, you kept the items in your chamber for your eyes only, afraid of what other rumours could begin about your intentions and the nature of your relationship with the prince. The Gods knew you were already having a terrible time finding suitors.

Her eyes left the jewellery to settle on her son sitting by your side, who looked away from her as if the wall had suddenly turned interesting but she quickly decided to drop the subject as she could notice the slightly tinted cheeks on him. 

For years, the queen had been expecting the day her once sweet and caring son would walk to her and announce his desire on taking you as his betrothed and despise the union not being one to bring great benefits to the Targaryen name, she would allow it. If the prince wasn’t always ready and prepare to take on his duty and do what was needed for his family, which includes waiting until his mother and grandfather decided to find a beneficial match for him, Alicent would allow him the benefit of marrying by love.

Aemond’s grip tightened around his goblet as his nephew stopped in front of you.

“Would you join me for a dance, my lady?” Jaecarys bowled dramatically extending his hand to you as a boyish smile adorned his lips. Always the charming.

"I would love to, my prince" You couldn't help but giggle as the boy quickly pulled you onto your feet.

If any of you had minded taking a look at Aemond, would have seen how he turned his chair to keep his eye trained on you and noticed his knuckles turning white with a vice grip around the goblet that thankfully wasn't made of glass as the prince imagined it was his nephew's neck perhaps.

It brightened a fire in his veins, boiling him in a way he couldn't understand nor control. The sight of your smiles to his nephew, the way Jacaerys felt like he could have you, even for a dance. Aemond could burn a whole city at just the thought of you with someone else and the entire kingdom if this someone else ended up being a Strong bastard.

"You look beautiful, my lady" Jace smiled, grabbing a hold of your waist as you tripped on your skirt, chuckling as if his words didn't get you so off of guard "Though in my memories you weren't as clumsy as now."

Scoffing playfully, you narrowed your eyes at him before a mischievous smile appeared on your lips and for a moment, it was like time hadn't passed at all and the two of you were still innocent children playing around the Red Keep.

"Well... In my memories, Luke wasn't taller than you as well, my prince." at that, Jace places a hand on his heart, shaking his head as he smiles, his brown eyes staring at you under his lashes.

"However, my height pleases me. The sight is quite good from here." You could feel your cheeks burning like fire as he arched a brow at you, his hand touching your waist as he guided you to move to the other side in a circle, resting it in there a second too long and an eternity for Aemond.

You pull away, turning around at the sound of someone slamming on the table, staring at the silver-haired prince as he stands from his chair, almost making it fall on the floor as his gaze pierces you.

The music ceases and all the heads around the table turn to look apprehensively at the prince.

“A final tribute” He lifts his goblet, his eye moving to both his nephews and you take a deep breath, knowing nothing good would come out of it since the king was gone. “To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke and Joffrey.”

You can hear the queen quietly calling her son but if he heard her, he simply ignores her. You shake your head at him, silently pleading for it to be stopped as you gaze at him but it is useless.

The following words that echoed in the room were responsible for dissipating the soft and fragile joy rarely shared among the family. The tension comes back thicker than the night when the royal family was parted in two.

“Each of them wise, handsome... Strong.” Aemond smirks stretched like a predator watching its prey and you felt like a fire was about to start as Aegon lifted his drink as well "Let us all drain our cups for these three Strong boys."

You cursed under your breath, trying to grab Jaecarys as he cautiously pulled you behind him before walking to Aemond, his hands bailed into fists.

“I dare you to say that again!" The younger prince didn't back away from his uncle, not caring about how well the sparring he had seen earlier. Aemond had no right to talk about his family in such a way.

Aemond arched a brow, taking a step forward. You tried to take a deep breath, only for the air to get trapped in your chest, remembering of what happened the last time their tempers got the best of themselves.

“Why? Do you not think of yourself strong?” as soon as he finished, the prince's Jaecarys fist found his face and you took a step forward but everything was happening too fast.

The next second, Jace was pushed to the ground as Aemond smiled like he had won a prize. They were ready to throw fists as finally the guards as Daemon stepped in, separating the both before blood could be spilt.

Casting a look at Alicent, you waited until she nodded to walk past the doors, muttering an apologize to Rhaenyra as you passed her. A pregnant woman shouldn't be dealing with all of this drama.

“Why would you do that?!” You demanded as you burst inside his chamber, not bothering to knock “The boys were behaving despise Aegon's insistent provocations towards them. By the Gods, both of you are already men.”

“Watch your tongue, it is your princes you talk about!” He turned at you with his face contorted in anger – a very unusual look on the so-composed Targaryen.

You furrowed your brows, taking a step back. Never did he remind you of his position in the court.

“I apologize, my prince. It was hard to tell because you were behaving like savage children.”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond was in front of you, holding your jaw between his hand with more strength than he has ever touched you. His blue eye was almost black, with not a single sign of the purple flecks, hidden behind his anger.

“Repeat yourself.” his tone was harsh and his words were spelt slowly as if he dared you to do it on his face now.

“Aemond” you whispered, the skin under his digits beginning to ache.

Tears pricked your eyes as your heart hammered against your ribcage, telling yourself that your best friend would never harm you. You tried to take his hand away from your face but his grip was stronger than yours. Hands moving to his wrists, you rested them there in hopes it would make him stop, trying to pull him out of whatever has gotten into him.

The prince wasn't an easy person to read, unless when vulnerable which rarely would happen. Still, you could see the moment when realization fell upon his shoulders and he blinked, softening his grip to simply cup your jaw as his forehead rested on yours and he closed his eyes.

���Don't dance with him again." his eye desperately searched yours for any sign that it was something from his head - the blush, the giggles and your never fading smile to Jaecerys. Those were things meant for him and no one else, even though he couldn't bring himself to admit such a thing to you.

“What?" You blinked the tears away, furrowing your brows as you stared at him.

There was a brief moment of regret when Aemond saw the hurt and fear sculpting your delicate features, his blood seeming to turn into sharp pieces of glasses but it was all washed down by the decade-old anger and jealousy, which he would never admit, of his nephew.

He stepped away as if by lingering near you, the harm would come to him. Vivid in Aemond's mind was the way Jacerys gazed down at you, his imagination running wild with what comments he could have made to have you giggling and blushing, and how you allowed it all to happen without sparing a second thought. Perhaps, that's what you wanted.

 “You shall pack your belongings. I heard your honorable Strong boys are leaving soon. Maybe one of them will accept you as their concubine when they grew tired of their wives.” Aemond couldn't bring himself to look at you now, gazing outside his window to the full moon high in the sky as the feeling in his chest didn't cease to grow.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you wouldn't allow yourself to cry as his words echoed in your mind and his rough touch was still fresh on your skin, shattering your heart to crumble as you stared at his back. It was hard to believe that it was your Aemond. The one with a gentle touch, nice words and unique gifts for you just this morning. Your best friend and the man you... It didn't matter now.

Was that what he thought was your worth? Being a whore to a married man? To be someone's second choice and dirty secret? Someone who would bring shame to your family name?

You had to bite on your tongue to don't add more, to say the words tickling your tongue to be freed and hurt him just as much as he was doing to do. At least, I would be fucked by the future king of Westeros. But you didn't. Despise the events, it wasn't on your wish list to be the next decapitated corpse of the night.

“As you wish, your highness” you made a curtsy, walking out of the room as fast as you came in, carrying a hurricane of emotions swirling mercilessly in your chest.

[strangedreamings]

July is almost here and along with it, Christmas in July 2023!

This year's prompts are more detailed than previous years'. This event is open to every fandom, ship, and rating.

Have fun!

Advent calendar. Instead of chocolate, Person A is sent an Advent Calendar full of charming confessions, ending with "I love you" on December 24th.

It's better to give than to receive. Person A draws their crush Person B's name for Secret Santa. They're so concerned with giving Person B the perfect present that they don't realize their Secret Santa has done the same.

Binge. Single Person A spends a whole day watching Hallmark Christmas movies but instead of relaxing, they remind them that they are painfully single. What happens when Person B drops in out of the blue?

Make a wish. Person A does everything in their power to make Person B's dearest wish come true.

Naughty or nice? Being nice will get Person A in Person B's good graces, but being naughty is so much more fun.

Happy Holidays. Being forever single never bothered Person A before, but this year not having anyone to bring home for Thanksgiving rankles. Can they find true love before New Year's Eve?

Do you want to build a snowman? Person A and Person B would build snowmen together when they were kids. After they grew up, Person A moved away from their hometown for work. When they come back years later for the holidays, they're awakened one night by a snowball hitting their childhood bedroom window.

First snowfall of the season. Everyone's forgotten how to drive in the snow, including the guy who rear-ended Person A. Thankfully, Person B knows how to calm them down and will give them a lift.

Home for the holidays. Person A thought they'd be alone for the holidays but Person B (their secret crush) invites A to spend the holidays with them and their family.

Comfort and joy. It is Person A's first Christmas since a major loss and Person B does everything they can to make it a good one.

Make it sparkle. "You wrapped presents today." "How can you tell?" "The table is covered in glitter." "Ooops." "Did you wrap anything for me?"

Nobody loves you like family. Person A has been home for the holidays for all of one day but their family is already getting on their nerves. Person B offers them a chance to escape.

The most wonderful time of the year. Grinchy Person A hates Christmas. Can Christmas-loving Person B change their mind before Christmas Eve or are they a lost cause?

It's become a tradition. Perpetually single Person A and their equally single best friend Person B escape their respective families every Christmas Eve and spend time together. What happens when Person A brings someone home to meet their family?

Silent night. Person A has laryngitis at Christmas, it's up to Person B to take care of them. Thankfully, they know Person A so well that words aren't necessary.

White Elephant. Person A gets something at a White Elephant party that they neither want nor need, but they know Person B would love it.

Ghost of Christmas Past. Person A regrets breaking up with Person B years ago and is determined to win them back.

Office romance. Person A asks their SO Person B to host their office's holiday party but Person B would rather have a root canal without anesthetic.

Under the mistletoe. Person A is the last person Person B would want to kiss, so why does everyone try to get them under the mistletoe?

Peace on earth. Person A steps outside to get a breather from the boisterous gathering only to run into Person B doing the same thing.

Joy to the world. Person A goes to Person B to tell them some very good news.

Taste this. Person A is making their first big family Christmas dinner by themselves. Their SO Person B offers encouragement but is hopeless in the kitchen so they're the designated taste tester.

Blue Christmas. "Who breaks up with someone December 23rd?"

Do you hear what I hear? Person A is awakened to the sound of caroling outside their window, led by Person B.

It's a Christmas miracle. The least likely thing to happen, happens and at Christmas, no less.

A candle in the window. It's a cold December night and Person A is lost driving around an unfamiliar neighborhood. A candle in the window of a house convinces them to stop and ask for directions. The homeowner is their acquaintance Person B.

Winter Wonderland. Person A is snowed in with their crush Person B.

Many happy returns. Person A runs into Person B in line to exchange unwanted gifts.

Become one with the couch. Laid-back Person A convinces perpetual-motion machine Person B to just chill with them a couple of days after Christmas.

Milk and cookies. Single Person A leaves cookies for Santa as a joke. Someone ate them overnight and left a present under the tree. Could it be … their best friend Person B?

Out with the old, in with the new. Person A breaks up with their less-than-worthy SO on New Year's Eve. Does a kiss at midnight from Person B foretell a better year ahead?

[autogyne-redacted]

Fun fact: Dover Beach was pretty solidly my favorite poem from when I first encountered it around 17 till I stopped.having a favorite poem (but like, it still felt quite relevant till I was 20 or 21.

And then I don't really think about it for a couple year.

And then I start reading Ahal, having heard incredible things and he just hits you with it immediately.

Very much a moment of like, oh, this was 100% written for me .

And it is just a banger:

"The sea is calm tonight.

The tide is full, the moon lies fair

Upon the straits; on the French coast the light

Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,

Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.

Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!

Only, from the long line of spray

Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,

Listen! you hear the grating roar

Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,

At their return, up the high strand,

Begin, and cease, and then again begin,

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring

The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago

Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought

Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow

Of human misery; we

Find also in the sound a thought,

Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.

But now I only hear

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,

Retreating, to the breath

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear

And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! for the world, which seems

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night."