#your job is to be a high lords wife. not a high lady

[platypusisnotonfire]

To be fair I’m listening to YA garbage literature to fall asleep on purpose because its just engaging enough to quiet my overthinking but useless enough that my brain can let it go and fall asleep

But like… I’m listening to A Court Of Mist And Fury and like….am I supposed to hate Rhysand and prefer Tamlin? Like is that the authors intent? Because…

Dude like Rhysand is a douchebag for sure but wrapped up in his mysoginist/jerky language he seems way more respectful of Feyre than Tamlin is.

Like he’s always like oh yeah? You don’t like that? You don’t like what I did? Here’s the tools to fight me. Now fight me. Everything he does that’s super douchebaggy seems to come with a taunt, like “I see in you an equal who can best me. I’m poking at you to make you fight back the way I know you can”

Whereas Tamlin is…idk the crappy stereotype of the “nice guy” that’s “so loving” but wants to just hide her away and shelter her and not trust her to protect herself or even have the knowledge of what’s going on in the world at large.

I kinda hate Tamlin and like Rhysand and I’m pretty sure that’s not what the author wants me to think lol

[redheadspark]

I’m soooo excited!!!! really happy that the soul mate theme won. Can I please request no. 18 with azriel, thank you <3<3<3

A/N - I love this for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Set You Free

Summary - Being Soulmates with the Shadowsinger would bring pain, but also life too

Warnings - Mostly fluff with a hint of angst

As soon as Azriel closed the doors behind him, he knew he was going to be in a world of hurt. 

It wasn’t that he was wanting to get in trouble, given his track record as the Shadowsinger of Prythian.  He had to stay in the shadows and get all the information he needed.  Then again that meant he had to get his hands dirty every once in a while and find himself in tough spots.  This time though was supposed to be the opposite: get in and get out.  Even Cassian called this mission a simple “Walk in the Park”

It was no walk in the park.  

The small penthouse that Azriel shared with you, his soulmate of 500 years, was dimly lit with only the scattering stars in the sky and the hung crescent moon that gave a blue tint through the massive windows that overlooked the bay and Velaris.  Azriel looked at the living room, the worn couch that you brought with you from your first home, a massive blanket that was a mating gift from High Lady Feyre perched over the couch, and the lingering scent of the lavender candle that still had a lingering amber lit on the wick on the kitchen counter.  Azriel could tell you recently turned in for the night, but with a small look in the direction of the master bedroom, he noticed the light was still on since the light was escaping under the crack of the door.

He inwardly cringed, this was not how he wanted to see you tonight.

You knew his job at the Spymaster was tough and would have him be away 80 percent of the time.  It was a sacrifice you made taking him on as not just his soulmate but as his wife.  However, Azriel swore to you that he never wanted you to be pushed aside for his duties and his devotion to Night Court, to High Lord Rhysand even.  You came first in his life, and you saw it in the first few years of your marriage.  He eased back on the missions that were given to him and attempted to stay close to Night Court, merely to be close to you.  Not that you needed any kind of protection from him, you were an Illryian Warrior and grew up in the camps and fought for your life.  Azriel admired that about you, your spirit and the tough exterior that seemed to contrast your tender heart and kindness. 

He found himself profoundly lucky to have you as his soulmate, which was why he wanted to make sure to work hard for your relationship and marriage.

Creaking open the bedroom door, he poked his head in and saw you perched in the bed, sheets bunched around your lap, and a book in your hold as you were reading silently to yourself.  It was amazing really, seeing his mate reading a book and perched in bed like a common housewife when Azriel knew you were a fierce Illyrian that could throw any other soldier over your head with ease.  He’s seen you on the batter field, sword in hand and able to slay anyone in front of you.  

Yet there you were, reading a book and looking as content as ever.

“You’re not that good at lurking behind doors, my dear,” 

Azriel heard your voice slip through the room, making him chuckle as he finally amends into the bedroom and closes the door behind him.  He could breathe in the lingering scent of lemons and cinnamon, your unique scent that he craved and loved over the centuries.  Your long hair was in a loose braid over your shoulder, the longest it’s ever been that had hints of yellow and red mixed together.  Even the freckles along your cheeks and arms made you look radiant, almost a distraction that you would have to then eliminate your enemies.

Azriel had to admit, he would fall under your spell at any time from a simple smile.

“I thought I mastered it after 500 years of marriage,” Azriel joked as he toed off his shoes, you letting a giggle slip past your lips as you looked up from your book.  Your face which had a smile was now laced with concern from seeing Azriel’s appearance.  Slamming your book shut, you sat up in bed as your mate shrugged off his jacket, showing the scattering of bruises and a massive cut on his former that was near his scarred hands.

“What happened!” You asked in worry, “You told me that you would be safe and nothing would happen—“

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” He reassured you calmly as he walked over to the bed, sitting on the side and close enough for you to touch his wounds tenderly and look over every inch.  He hated having you fear for his safety, you both knew deep down that he could handle himself. But you still worried over him, it was in your nature to wish for him to not be harmed.  You’ve seen him look worse and almost on the brink of death, and although he looked minor, he was still your main concern. 

You felt it in the bond: Azriel telling you the truth.

“Any casualties?” You asked him, seeing him sigh and rub the back of his neck nervously.

“Just one from our camps, a new recruit that was too reckless for his own good,” He answered, you reaching over to lace your fingers together.  Being soulmates ultimately meant your intuition was linked as well: neither one of you could lie to the other.  Not that Azriel was a known liar, but he had to be persuasive with the truth every once in a while when he was on the job.  He would get away with it when it came to others, even other High Lords or those who had more power over him.

But with you, his soulmate, he could never lie.

There were plenty of fights in the past between the two of you, and the truth coming out about how you both were feeling almost brought your relationship to a halt a few times.  Scream matching or death glares, in the end, you both still loved each other.  Relying on each other’s truth did strengthen your love for one another.  It was not a burden but more of a blessing, you both being an open book to the other and not wishing to hide anything from each other.  It made you stronger and more in love with each other, even after centuries together and plenty of hours to bond.

“The threat is eliminated then?” You asked him nervously, Azriel smiling and kissing the top of your head.

“Yes,” he replied simply, you feeling it in the bond that he was truthful.  

“Good, and I take it you’re going to take the day off tomorrow?” You asked carefully, though you were softly smiling and the worry was gone from your lips and cheeks. Azriel nodded, kissing the back of your hand.  

“I already asked Rhysand for some time with you,” He reported, you grinning from ear to ear as he then gestured to the bathroom that was adjacent to your bedroom, “Wanna join me in washing away that filth I brought him?”

“As if you need to ask me,” You replied, throwing the blankets off your legs and tossing the book to the side.  Azriel laughed, taking your hand to guide you out of bed and you both literally ran to the bathroom.    You both loved being true to one another, even on the darker days and the days that were filled with worry and uneasiness.  In the end, it made your love for one another ten times better than before.

The truth always sets you two free.

The End

September Prompt Session

[witchofhimring]

Under the shadow of the Crown

Synopsis: Your life as Princess Baela's lady-in-waiting is ripped apart. Queen Rhaenyra decrees that you marry her younger half brother Aemond. Terrified, you are in no position to object. Such are the lives of those in the shadow of the crown.

Pairings: Aemond x Y/n

Part of my Dynasty of Blood AU series, built of this concept.

You had never payed attention to the second sulky son of Alicent Hightower. If fact you had not even come to mainland Westeros to marry him in the first place. Of course marriage had always been in the cards. As heir to Blackhalt, your families ancestral seat just off of The Reach. A great match had always been in store for you. Lord Cregan Stark and Jeoffrey Velaryon had both been put forth. Only Lord Stark's had been seriously considered as the third born son of Queen Rhaenyra was not yet ten. It was only a pity the eldest two of her boys were to be wed. Well, Lucerys and Rhaena had not been wed at the time you arrived at Kings Landing. Crowned Prince Jaecerys had already taken Baela Targaryen to wife by then. Your role, until it was time to take up the mantel of ladyship, was to serve the royal family and cultivate whatever ties you could.

You were placed in the service of Princess Baela. She was around your age, born within the same year. Admittedly you were more than a bit intimidated. Use to being the second highest ranking lady in the room it was strange to be standing in front of the third greatest lady in the land. Not only that but Baela rode a dragon. Her beauty was intimidating as well, with thick silver hair and wide violet eyes. Her skin was dark and smooth, the scars she obtained in battle only giving highlighting her features. Normally scars could not be considered pretty, but Baela seemed to wear them as one would their jewels. Clad in black and red the princess looked almost like one of those Valyrian gods. Not that you had ever met one before. But perhaps this was how they were depicted.

The two of you would forge a friendship. A combination of personal liking and ambition. However it was with Rhaena that you first became friends with. The younger of the two, Rhaena was less assuming compared to Baela. That did not mean, as many mistakened her for, a wilting flower. She simply preferred to be more guarded and taken to court etiquette more easily. The two of you had much in common, a love of fine dresses, music, poetry and an ability to connive when the situation so called for it. When you were free of duties the two of you would hide under the Weirwood and read poetry.

Two years passed and a new year was upon everyone. A New Years ball was to be arranged and it was up to a team of ladies (including yourself) to organize who was wearing what. It was already agreed upon that Baela would be wearing a high collared red gown with rubies sewn into it. Not that she knew it yet. The rest of you would wear colours representing your houses to show a symbol of unity. "I think everyone should wear a red ribbon to symbolize the princess." Rhaena pulled out a silver box from underneath a tall tower of various items. Let it not be said this was an easy job. A new years celebration was nothing to scoff at. Especially as this one would be a pre-celebration to the marriage of Rhaena to Lucerys. Rhaenyra's second son had been off to learn what it mean to be a lord. This had been to the great distress of Rhaenyra. But she finally relented, unusually, and allowed Daemon to teach her son everything there was to know about being Prince of Dragonstone. Now that he had experience and was a man it was high time Lucerys married.

"Oh dear." Lady Cassandra stifled a laugh as she held up a pair of ludicrously high heels. Lady Cerelle of Casterly Rock paled and looked to Rhaena. She would find no security in her look as Rhaena sighed. "Let me see." You took the pair from her hand and examined them. They were exquisite in design and any woman would be thrilled to have them. Except this was Baela who would likely be as friendly as Vhargar when it came to overly constraining dresses.

Rhaena sighed and slumped in her seat. She looked up at the ceiling, exasperated. "Baela is going to kill me." You looked up at her. "Why you?" Rhaena sat up and stooped down to gather loose fabric. "Because I was the one who commissioned Panella to make the dress. And I swear I told her to make the dress to Baela's tastes. But the Queen ordered her to make it luxurious as possible." Queen Rhaenyra was well known for her expensive tastes. Just a glance at her dresses was enough for anyone to know. This had worked in your favour when the Queen gifted you a dress of pink silk and pearls. You had yet to wear it but the dress was truly magnificent. However, at this moment, was it worth it if Baela ripped your head off?

Deliverance came in the form a knock. One of Dowager Queen Alicents handmaidens entered. She first curtsied to Rhaena and then turned to you. "Lady Y/n, the Queen Dowager has requested your presence." Getting up you bid the ladies farewell before leaving. Hopefully you would be kept away long enough to avoid Baela's terror.

Lady Alicent had settled in the Hands Tower, much to the annoyance of the actual hand Ser Corlys Velaryon. The moment you entered green clouded your vision. On the steps of a dais sat the women serving Alicent. They mostly hailed from the Reach and Westerlands. Sitting on a throne like chair was Alicent. She looked older than her thirty and four years, a statue of regality and sternness. Had you done something to incur her ire? There was nothing you could think of. So you curtsied, hoping that if she was upset a show of supplication (even if it irked you) might mollify her. To your surprise she smiled, or at least it looked like a smile. This unsettled you to a degree.

"Lady Y/n, the Queen, your father and myself have chosen a husband for you." Several things went through your mind, excitement, anxiety and hope. You had been endlessly curious as to who would become your husband and the future lord consort to Blackhalt. "You will be marrying my son Prince Aemond. Everything dropped out from beneath you. Not literally, but it felt like someone had just hurled you down a dark tunnel. Out of everyone why him!? You could not say Aemond was well known to you. Only the stories and the looks he gave anyone attached to his elder sisters house. As you were a member of Baela's household his dislike over spilled into you as well.

Was this your fathers idea? Or your mother, who despite not being the ruling lady held great sway. Always you had known you'd marry, such was the duty of every lord and lady. Never had you though as you did now, that this was all some great mistake.

You curtsied to the third most powerful woman in Westeros and said how honoured you were. An honour it may be, but not one you cherished.

"Absolutely not!" If one though Baela had been angry beforehand it was nothing to her tirade over Aemond taking one of her handmaidens. "My Princess, I can still serve you, surely." You held her hand in your own. In the greatest state of anxiety Baela hardly seemed to notice. Suddenly she bounded to her feet. Cerelle leapt back in fright and Cassandra rose to her feet. Baela seized your hand and headed out the door. She strode forward with such a great fury you nearly tripped. You could hear the other two following, also having difficulty in catching up. It was only when you entered a staircase lined with red tapestries did you realize where it was Baela was taking you. Before there was even time to protest Baela waved the guards aside and burst through the door. Queen Rhaenyra lounged on a plush chair, surrounded by her three youngest sons, little Princess Visenya and four ladies. As usual she was bedecked in the finest robes imaginable. Jeoffrey came to his feet and rushed towards Baela. Despite the animosity between Baela and her good-mother she was fond of her husbands siblings. Once they broke apart Jeoffrey rushed back to his mother. Tention filled the room was two Targaryen Princesses stared each other down. Baela may not be Queen yet, but she had enough spirit to outdo almost any other. Rhaenyra may have been older, but the fire dwelling within her blood was no less furious. Despite their differences they both had something starkly similar. They were the very blood of Old Valyria.

"Princess Baela. Please take a seat." Baela simply stood there, not budging. Nervously you stood there. While Baela might get away with this you may suffer the brunt of Rhaenyra's anger. She was quick to anger and slow to forgive. So you hung your head in hopes that she might consider you unworthy of her anger. "He who bends may rise again", it was a Greyjoy saying, yet your mother mentioned it had a great deal of merit.

Lady Cassandra quietly entered, paid her respects to the Queen, then stood there. "Lady Velaryon, please take my daughter to her room." Lasfy Velaryon, a cousin of Baela, rose and took the hand of little Visenya who had only recently celebrated her third name day. With some fussing the princess was spirited away. Rhaenyra waited until her daughters little footsteps disappeared. When Rhaenyra focused her attention back onto Baela she looked as gentle as a dragon. They said the Queen was quick to anger, slow to forgive. You prayed her anger did not fall on you.

"Your impertinence is noted, Baela. Remember I am Queen so watch your tongue." The subject of Queenship had always been a tense, provocative one. When King Laenor died the crown passed to his wife. At the time Prince Jacaerys was only ten and considered too young to rule. Fearing a war over regency as had happened in the time of King Jaehaerys they had the boys mother become Queen. It was all wrapped up in a neat little bow. No boy kings and the succession going down the natural path. Or it would be so if it were not for the face Rhaenyra's sons were not Laenor's. Whispers floated down the halls that it was the former Captain of the City Guard Ser Harwin Strong who had fathered the boy. If the succession had gone down the true legitimate line then it would have passed to Laena's line. Baela was Laena's eldest child. But Rhaenyra was quick. She married Laena's widower Daemon Targaryen and married their children together.

Baela, who should have been Queen, stood in front of her stepmother who was Queen. Veryone else shrunk back. Even little Jeoffrey. "I hear you mean to marry Y/n Blackhalt to Aemond." She practically spat out the last words. All these years later Baela was still smarting over the injustice of Aemond taking Vhaegar from her sister. The feeling was mutual. Aemond had hated the Velaryon girls ever since that terrible fight on Driftmark. After the funeral of Princess Laena Aemond had stuck out and claimed Vhaegar which had once belonged to Aegon, consort of Queen Visenya. Words were said and Baela punched Aemond. A brawl ensued and Aemond lost an eye. The relationship between the families of Viserys Targaryen's first and second wives had never been smooth. Rhaenyra was left imbittered after her lady-in-waiting Alicent married her father. The two had never reconciled. Or so you heard.

"I am aware. Myself, Lady Alicent and your father have all agreed to it." Baela puffed up. "As a lady in my service Y/n is under my care and therefore I should have been informed." "My brother is a prince of the realm. Lady Y/n should feel honoured." Rhaenyra's amethyst eyes then settled on you. Oh Gods no.

"Lady Y/n, what do you say?" This was possibly the worst situation you could be placed in. Either way you would offend someone. Your best friend and future Queen, or the current Queen. Your mothers lessons went through your head. What would she do in this situation? Feigning calm, you spoke. "My opinion hardly counts. I will do what is best for the realm." You prayed this appeased both Targaryens. Rhaenyra had a look of satisfaction on her face. Baela's you could not see.

"There we have it. Is there anything else you would like to add?" It was not because Baela had been calmed that she turned and left. You could see the tension in her shoulders and knew Baela only left to stop herself from doing something truly rash. She had let go of you and both you and Cassandra were forced to race behind. All the way to her room the three of you ran. Rhaena and Cerelle were still in Baela's room. Rhaena opened her mouth but Baela spoke first. Once inside she immediately rounded on you. "So you want to marry him!" The fury in her voice made you cower. Unable to speak, it took everything in you not to cry. "You betray me in front of the Queen! You! Are you truly my friend or will you open your legs to any many who will have you!" Everyone gasped. Cassandra dropped the pearls, Rhaena clasped a hand to her mouth and Cerelle had silently fled.

You could not even cry. Your fear was so intense you remained rooted to the spot, stuck dumb. By no means were you a coward. Under any other situation you would have defended your honour. But not only was Baela your friend, but a Princess and future Queen. Baela's furious person glowered at you. Trembling, you only just begun to think of anything to say when Baela turned on her feet and stormed out.

There was no air in your lungs. Or at least that was what it felt like. Everything seemed to be falling away leaving you in a deep sea of despair. One by one you imagined everything being taken away, leaving only burned friendships and a disgraced name. Baela shot you one last disgusted before turning on her heel and leaving. With a bang the door shut.

Everything swam before you. Darkness began to rise and suddenly you were swallowed by it. Fading voiced echoed and drifted further and further away. A dull pain echoed in your head.

Then everything was black.

Pain was the first to greet you. The sun nearly blinded you and the world came into blurry focus. Every movement was slow and it ached. The bed dipped slightly as a face hovered above yours. "Y/n?" You recognized Rhaena through her voice. Then another joined your view. With vision clearing you realized it was a Septa. A cold hand pressed against your burning forehead and she spoke. "Can you see?" The words that came out of you sounded strange, like someone was yelling across the great hall. "Yes. But faintly, I think?" Wincing you held up a hand. Your vision was clearing and almost perfect again. "Sit up if you can." A hand behind your back helped you up. Propped against pillows a cup was placed by your lips. Cold water wetted your parched throat. It made a world of difference. Your senses were clearing and the remains of grogginess disappeared. Unfortunately it also brought pain into sharper focus. Reaching behind you felt a bump.

"Thank the Gods that is all. It could have been so much worse." Cerelle was nervously chewing her fingernails. You noticed that Cassandra and Baela were missing. "Cassandra was summoned by Baela. But she is very worried." Said Rhaena noticing your mood. "Does the Princess know what happened?" "I don't know. Not unless Cassandra told her." Defeated, you laid back. Still coming out of a haze your thoughts darted here and there. All this information, Baela's anger, the betrothal and Queen Rhaenyra's animosity made you want to faint all over again.

Cerelle and Rhaena said nothing else as you lay back down. The three of you stayed in that room, the sun setting. All the while you wondered if this was the right decision.

You should have been happy at the choice of husband. Aemond was young, handsome and a prince. But on the morning of your wedding all you felt was dread. During the early hours of the morning you lay awake, Rhaena snoring a few inches away. As a princess-to-be you got new rooms in the Red Keep. These ones opened out onto the garden, a combination of roses and salt lingering on every surface. You would rather have been in the old rooms. At least Baela had been your friend back then, and Aemond had not been your betrothed. You missed those days were you were just Lady Blackhalt. After the wedding you would be sent back with Aemond to Blackhalt island. Away from the place which had been your home since childhood.

Everyone but you seemed happy. Only Rhaena seemed aware of your mood. Cassandra and Cerelle were with Baela, they would no longer be with you. And Baela...who knew. They washed you within an inch of your flesh. Scrubbed till it hurt they finally pulled you out and lathered on a sweet smelling cream. Every inch of you were fussed over by an army of women. When that was done they dressed you, a whole new ordeal. For the first time you wore the Targaryen black and red. The three headed dragon was sewn onto your bodice with rubies glittering on silk strings. For a moment you forgot every worry when looking in the mirror. Every move sent sparkles dancing around you, and as princess you would always have such gowns. At least that was one comfort.

The dress became a burden when it was time for the procession through King's Landing. They placed you on a chariot for all of the smallfolk to see. They called out to you, blessing you with good fortune and many children. You smiled and waved, ignoring the heat and painful corset. Yet to have so much adoration gave you a warm feeling. You tried to focus on that. White petals were thrown into the air. Several getting caught in your hair. Finally you arrived back at the Red Keep. The remaining court which had not come with you was waiting. Helped off, you were delivered into the arms of your father. Lord Blackhalt was a stranger to his daughter. Having barely seen him in years it felt strange to have him hand you off. Baela might as well have done the honours. Speaking of Baela she was there. It hurt when she barely looked at you. And after this you would likely hardly see her again.

They were now closing in from all sides. Walking into the Great Hall you felt all their eyes on you. 'From now on I will always be watched.' You thought. You would go from lady to princess. A member of the royal family. Waiting for you at the end was the High Septon and Queen Rhaenyra, looking on in satisfaction. You hated the queen, her satisfied look making you want to throw up down the stairs. How dare she act all pleased! And then you saw your betrothed. Aemond stood inches from his sister. His black leather made you want to shrink away. 'Don't you it.' The warning spurred you on.

Aemond's hand was calloused and cold. It was a shock compared to the heat of this morning. For the first time you looked Aempnd in the face. As a body you feared him, as a man you nearly ran. And now you would spend the rest of your life with him. His purple eye was hard to read. No expression passed his face. It was worse than showing anger, at least you would know what to expect. Right now you knew nothing. In truth despite the proximity for so many years you knew nothing about him. Always it had been the words of Baela and Rhaena which painted a picture. Now on your own there was a blank canvas.

'With this kiss I pledge my love.' Empty words. His lips were cold against your own ones. Your black and white cloak was whipped off, replaced by the Targaryen sigil. No longer Lady Y/n. Y/n Blackhalt, Princess of Westeros. You felt naked, unprotected. And now your girlhood was ended.

Notes: I just want to reiterate that this is not a story in the sense I will organize it into chapters. It will be a collection of one shots based off of scenarios. If anyone wants to further discuss these characters I am happy to do so!

About the characters: Cassandra is much nicer in this version. I suspect that the reason she was so bitter in Fire and Blood was because she went from a possible heiress to House Baratheon and promised to a prince, then promised to a King. Only she ended up married to a man well below her station. Personally I think she was definitely ambitious, but is less malicious in this version due to being Lady Baratheon by right. So she certainly has less to be bitter about.

Now, about the readers wedding. Because this is a world were women inherit the reader will keep her last name. But because she is marrying into the royal family she wears their colours. So that is why she wears the Targaryen cloak.

Rhaenyra does come off as cruel in this one-shot however she will get more development. Her actions are a combination of spite against Baela and to show her place as Queen. Baela resents Rhaenyra for taking the place she thinks is hers. I will at some point write a one-shot from Baela's point of view.

The other ideas I have in mind:

-Rhaenyra and the reader talking about their dead ancestors

-Baela and Daenerys (reader's daughter) talks about queenship

-Reader's friendship with Baela and Rhaena

-"Monarchs of Westeros" (part 1) Covering every monarch of Westeros in this AU from Visenya the First to Rhaenyra the Second.

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' husband Gojo - The Aftermath- 02

Tags- smut, angst, cheating, TW seizures, bad mental health of reader

Synopsis- The events of the fateful night of Christmas...

The Aftermath- 01 // series masterlist

24th December, 2016

"Hey y/n! Wanna get some drinks on Christmas? If you don't have any plans! Or are you too busy for us 'poor people'! Haha!". Your friends have called and they joked.

You come from a very lower middle class family. Raised by your grandmother and elder sister(by six years) due to your parents being absent.

It was difficult, you grew up watching your grandmother working at an age where she should be enjoying life and your sister when she should be studying. You grew up knowing what's it like to have nothing.

With a decent education, you and your sister started supporting your grandmother with a decent corporate job until your sister got married to her co-worker.

It was just you, helping financially your grandmother with her medical bills while saving up enough for a decent enough wedding dress to follow your sister's path, where you marry an average man like she did, have kids, take care of your children and man and thats it.

An average life.

But you wanted more.

You prayed. Day and night for an extraordinary life, a life memorable and not like your sister's.

You wanted more from life.

And the Gods heard your prayer.

Your whole life changed when you became an essential part of Japan's prolific Aristocratic family.

The news was everywhere. Its a rags to riches, The modern Cinderella story in everyone's eyes.

It was beautiful.

It was memorable, everything you wanted..

Until it wasn't...

"Uh.. yes i am free.", it felt so different, talking to people you worked with after so long. "What's the timing?", you asked.

"25th, 7pm! At the usual place. Also y/n! Could you maybe bring your husband! I mean we would all love to meet Mr Gojo! He's so funny! Only if Mr Gojo is free that is!"

Ah yes. Mr Gojo, the funny, entertaining Mr Gojo. He has met your friends from work enough times to make an image of the grounded but arrogant, funny rich guy.

"Oh! He-he isn't home. He's quite busy. Maybe next time, i will bring him!", you managed as if there will be a next time!

"Oh(disappointed) , nevermind then. Send my regards to Mr Gojo. And you do not forget to come y/n!"

"Yeah".

You wanted to go out, outside and away from this house of memories, with Satoru, that trapped you. You wanted to breath fresh air and move on.

Move on?

How could you move on?

The fact that you were 3 months in your pregnancy after 4 years of marriage. But you failed to carry the child. You failed to maintain the marriage with the person you love. And you're talking about moving on when its just 2 months?

How cruel y/n, how cruel...

25th December, 2016 || 6.45pm

You got dressed up in a simple black turtleneck, jeans, an overcoat and knee high boots with a woolen cap on.

A thick layer of concealer was enough to hide the under eye dark circles. You put on a red lipstick and went out.

The staff stared at you, secretly though, but nonetheless they stared and judged you.

'Is Lady y/n really pregnant?' One said. "She doesn't have a bump though", other quoted. "Come to think of it, her monthly(period) hasn't arrived either. She is pregnant!".

"When's she going to announce?" One servant asked. "Maybe after Lord Satoru arrives?". "Oh! Maybe on the New Year's eve! Seems perfect timing as well.", one replied.

The servants maybe nosy but they know their places. They know, something so sensitive as the pregnancy of the great six eyes sorcerer's wife, its not their place to give the news to the family.

Generally, almost every household's staffs know about anything and everything that goes on in Gojo household. But the word, luckily, doesn't reaches to their employers most of the time.

But this time, it wasn't just some other light news from the Gojo House and the servants of other households started talking to their employers in no time...

It was already past 11.30pm.

Reunion with your office friends and straight up five bottles of your favorite vodka felt so nice that you almost forgot about all and everything that had gone wrong in your life.

You meet up with your co-workers every Christmas for the last 4 years. Sometimes Satoru would company, sometimes he wouldn't.

Talking about politics, sports and who's dating who, both in the office and among celebrities. These were mostly the topics you spent discussing while drinking.

"Hey, its almost going to be 12. I think that's it for the night guys!", one of your girlfriends announced after a slight glance at her silver wrist watch.

"Whaaat?", your speech was slurred and vision blurry after five drinks. "Isss overrr already? Whyyyy? Less get the party started.."

Everyone chuckled. "Ah y/n san had too much to drink! Now we'd have to drop her at her royal palace!", the other girlfriend smiled, a little jealous of your luxurious life.

"Whaaaaat? Less playyy! C'mon ya lot!", you continued babbling frustrated.

"I'll drop y/n. If its okay with everyone."

Out of all the twelve co-workers, one of them stood up and offered to help you reach home.

He knew none are interested in insuring you reach home safely. Everybody was just ignorant and busy to get back home to be on time for work.

He, Kenzo, always have had feelings for you. From the moment you entered the Office to present, when you're married and babbling gibberish while totally drunk.

Everyone agreed to leave you to Kenzo since it was no secret, the feelings he has and someone like him would definitely make sure you reach home safe and secure.

26th December, 2016 || 12.26 am

The group gave their farewells to each other and went on their way.

You, on the other hand, are so drunk that its impossible for you stand up without your legs wobbling and bringing you down.

Kenzo helped you and got you on the passenger seat of his car and started driving towards your 'palace'.

Your head felt heavy with all the drinks you had. You could hear voices in your head, all distorted, words lapsing onto each other.

"You did this y/n!"

"Because of you y/n your baby is dead"

"Satoru will never love you"

"All you've done since marriage is sitting on top of your husband's fortune... living the life you never had"

"Satoru's family....They were right...Everyone was right.."

"You are just a whore"

"Whore for money"

"WHORE"

You let out a scream and started twisting and turning your head and hands to stop all this annoying gibberish in your head. Your eyes closed tight shut.

Kenzo, while driving through almost an empty road, saw this and was absolutely horrified. He thought you're having seizures so he stopped his car in an empty underground parking lot that was luckily near when he saw you.

"Y/n! Y/n! Are you okay?". He grabbed your cheeks to hold you still while his other hand held forcefully onto your shaking arms. "Talk to me y/n. Talk to me!"

"Talk to me y/n"

You heard.

"Talk"

You opened your eyes, slowly letting in the artificial bright lights hit your eyes. Lips trembling. Cheeks red, tears rolling.

You felt a grasp on your cheeks and lowered your gaze to see Kenzo, worried and sweating.

You let out a sigh and without any thoughts hugged Kenzo.

He didn't know what just happened but if hugging him makes you feel better, he's okay with it. He hugged you back. Caressing your back.

All the thoughts had stopped now in your head.

You calmly pulled away from the hug and locked your eyes with Kenzo's.

He is so handsome, same age as you, has beautiful hooded eyes, his nose, his lips.

You gently brought your lips closer to his and he to yours. You both so close but so far. You wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss you.

Your lips brushed upon his and he kissed you. You put your tongue in his mouth and fought for dominance. After a few pants for air, you won, a battle you never won with your husband.

Kenzo pulled back though halfway through. You were puzzled. Didn't he want you? But then you saw him looking at your big blue and white diamond wedding ring.

Oh so thats what it is.

You quickly removed the two rings from your left hand and put the expensive rings onto dashboard. One ring being your wedding band and the other ring was an official platinum-diamond band symbolizing that you are the Gojo Clan head's wife.

In a rush you jumped sat on his lap. Fixating yourself just above his crotch, continuously rubbing your clothed groin over his. You both panted.

You unbuckled your jeans and threw them in the backseat and unzipped Kenzo's pants, about to slide in his member in you. You were so in heat he could see right through you if he'd have to be honest.

He held your wrists and stopped you from doing it...

"Y/n, we shouldn't... its not right... you're married-", he protested with his voice low.

"I decide whats right or not... so shut up and do it already", you growled at him in frustration and just put his cock in your unprepared cunt.

You were finally tainted wholly...

It hurt a lot in the beginning, doing the deed all dry, without any foreplay after so long and after your miscarriage but slowly your body adjusted.

'God! he's so small', you thought to yourself while pushing in Kenzo's 5 inches hard cock in you since for the last over 7 years you've gotten used to Gojo's 8 inches.

This lowly act of yours went on for around 2 hours. Doing it anywhere and everywhere inside the car, in all and every position.

26th December, 2016 || 4.50am

The radio was playing 'Lovely Day' by Bill Withers.

Kenzo was driving you to your house.

You were quiet. He was quiet.

The drive to your uphill estate was easy since it was early morning so the streets were traffic free. He drove his car through the beautiful posh Uphills neighborhood of Tokyo. Your house was almost there.

Each house in this posh area are mindfully distanced to provide full privacy and personal space to the owners. That is why Satoru bought his married house here.

You were looking outside the window with a cigarette between your lips and suddenly your heart skipped a beat, eyes widened, forehead sweating when you saw your husband's black Audi sedan parked in the driveway...

You gulped when the car stopped outside the Gojo Estate's premises.

Door opened, left foot out and you got out. Before entering the gates of your premises, you leaned down a little to look at an equally annoyed Kenzo.

You both didn't share any words or any final looks and he just drove his car as soon as you got off.

He knew what he had done was crossing the line and beyond. It was so unethical to sleep with a married woman, doesn't matter if you were his crush once or not.

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Well technically y/n you are separated and will be divorced soon. So its not cheating. Technically?" Your head convinced you in case when you'd be caught you'll have an argument ready.

You started walking through the cobblestone walkway, a little nervous... Actually, truth be told, you are scared of seeing Satoru. Finding you in your current state at this late hour.

You took one last big puff and then crushed the cigarette with your boots.

You rang the bell once, twice. You started thinking maybe its not Satoru but its Mr Ijichi. Yeah! He's busy anyway.

The door opened just as you were about to ring the third time and all your fears came true...

Satoru Gojo opened the door.

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen @sweet-almond @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0peful @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha @dummyf @Noblog @Littledemoness15 @shaiah @iluv-ace @mmeerraa @angellyah @0bakuzan @waxhers @chanelmalandro @shoutobrainrot @angrydaughter @Screw-aebi@asdfghjkl7things @kodzukenwhore @gabile18 @bollockswhy @pelicanpizza @electro-supremacy @Zatannaswifeblog@spam-and-eggs @guenievresworld @b0scuit@aliventboo @marit332 @ieathairs @hells-escapees @no-name222

Aplogies, tags are CLOSED

[igotanidea]

Judgement: Benedict Bridgerton x actress!reader

Requested by @jaysgirlx <3

***

She wasn’t the most beautiful.

Or the most talented.

And definitely not born in the best family.

Nonetheless, neither of us, no matter how much willpower we are endowed with, has the possibility of choosing the environment we are born into. That is solely up to fate.

What we can choose, however, is how we adapt to the circumstances, how we behave, who we become and how we cope with the opinions that are – more often than not – negative and critical.

Especially when a woman, regardless of standards of an ossified, prejudiced society decides to make a living by being an actress. For Y/N Y/L/N no work was dishonorable. For the ladies of the ton, such profession was almost equal with being a lady of easy virtue. For the men – well- the behavior of some of them was below any norms of decency.

Funny how the point of view depends on the point of sitting.

***

She was late again.

For the third time this week and it was barely Wednesday. Not a good scorecard she kept and it definitely got under the skin of the theater owner. Y/N could not quite comprehend why the gentleman was so irritated since from the moment she stepped foot in that sanctuary of art she has been doing every single thing needed. Not only acting, but also cleaning the floor if required, repairing the costumes, helping with the dialogues. Very versatile all things considered.

Desperate for a job and survival? No, not entirely, maybe a little.

Enamored and passionate by the employ that gave her a bread and a questionable opinion. Yes, absolutely.

Rushing through the busy London streets, miraculously avoiding respectable matrons and their equally respectable lord consorts was not the best of the ideas of reducing, even to a small extent, the extent of her delay.

Y/N did not pay much attention while crossing the street either, obviously missing the speeding carriage and the moment she looked to the right, finding herself mere inches from the hooves of spooked horses, her entire life flashed in front of her eyes.

She let out a embarrassingly high cry of shock and freeze on the spot, mentally preparing herself of leaving the globe and letting her spirit fly away to some better world just like Julia Capulet did after her beloved Romeo—

“Watch out!” a man’s voice, a firm yet gentle grip of hand on her waist and a second later she was safely back on the pavement, sustaining no permanent injuries, save for rapid breathing and slightly flushed cheeks. “Are you all right, my lady?”

“I am not a lady.” She retorted automatically shaking her head and slowly raising her gaze to give thanks to her lifesaver “Mr. Bridgerton!” the second son of the late viscount was definitely not the person she expected to see and it made her take a step back immediately.

Almost ending up under another carriage if it wasn’t for Benedict Bridgerton’s reflexes and a bright, teasing smile.

“You don't learn from your mistakes, my lady” he teased “am I this repulsive to make you step away upon noticing my face? Is this how women behave this day?”

“Forgive me my Lord, I was blinded by all your glory” she almost rolled her eyes, saying the words before biting her own tongue. “oh…” the gasps that came out of her mouth a moment later only caused Benedict to laugh wholeheartedly.

��Not the usual reaction I get from a woman.”

“I can tell, my lord. I am sure ladies do swoon at the sight of you. And now that Viscount Bridgerton had tied the marriage knot you sure are looking for a wife so –” she sopped in the middle of the sentence realizing she was babbling again.

“Oh so you are a woman after all. Gossiping.” Benedict smirked.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Do I know you from somewhere?” he tilted his head examining her face trying to assess the possibility of them meeting before.

“No, my lord. I do not believe we have met.”

“May I have your name then, my lady?”

“Not a lady, my lord. And you should not preoccupy the place in your head with remembering my name.” she bowed, lacking skills a bit and – suddenly remembering that she was late – rushed to the theater.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Of course they have met before, but why would she remind him of the circumstances of the event happening so many weeks ago?

He was a student in the art academy, lately enhancing his skills in the portrait area, polishing the subject of anatomy. Both male and female, with the latter obviously much more involving in many hands-on way and that was not a secret. Those models were beautiful and fragile after all and being confronted with the harsh reality of XIX century London they had nothing more to offer than their bodies. Y/N almost ended up the same, but her talent for acting changed everything.

Regardless, her older brother was earning some additional funds by assisting the students, providing canvas, brushes, paints, wine, measures of various kinds. Whatever the domineering might wish for. And one day she was visiting him, entering the classroom without the knowledge that the lesson was still in progress.

And so she ended up in the middle of the room full of men with a naked model on the platform, under the barrage of astonished glances.

“Oh look, we got another one to help us study today!” one of the men cried out and the entire room started laughing. “You ought to wait for your turn, sweetheart. Do not fret though, we’ll take proper care of you.”

She blushed like a peony, her hands trembling a little.

“I was eagerly awaiting the moment when the Academy will provide us with a full shaped, average of beauty woman and here we are! My prayers have been answered, gentlemen!”

She blushed even more at the clear invective threw her way. Men could really behave like animals in their own company. Zero decency, respect for others or moderation. And the worst part was that all the ton knew about this open secret and gave their universal consent to that. Men were supposed to have their flings before marriage even if that meant a lot of improper things.

Her half-furious, half-hurt eyes scanned the room, taking in all the men gathered their and their attire, not paying much attention to either before landing on that one person who actually looked like having at least a little self-reflection.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Frozen with the brush in his hand and slightly unbuttoned shirt, torn between joining the common laugh on her expense and putting an end to this merciless, ongoing teasing. Before he could do a thing however she put an end to his misery and left the room with the solemn resolution to never interact with any of those debauched animals.

Judging Benedict as quickly and easily as all the society judged her.

***

“Quickly! We’re almost starting and you cannot seem to be on time even once!”

“I am—”

“do not interrupt me girl, put on the costume and get on the stage! I swear one of those days you will make me do the thing I will regret!”

***

That woman spurred some memories in Benedict’s mind even if couldn’t fully put all the pieces of the picture together. At least not until Eloise playfully smacked his side.

“What?”

“Do you know who you just saved?”

“That girl back there?” he massaged the sore place giving his sister a reproachful look “no idea. Should I know her?”

“That’s Y/N Y/L/N!”

“Uh… okay?”

“She’s an actress!”

“Um…”

“She’s a self-made, independent woman not looking for marriage and free of societal expectations!”

“You better not let out mother find out that a woman with no title is your role model.”

“Oh I’d be more than happy to let her know that. I believe that the amount of injustice put on women-“

“I do realize the amount of your thoughts in the subject.”

“Since when are you judgmental?” Eloise scoffed

“I am not!”

“Fine then Come see her performance with me.”

***

Y/N was almost pushed on the stage, without having any time to gather her thoughts or to revise her role, forced to improvise by putting on a bright fake smile and subjecting the audience to a minute or two of suspension, before realizing what she was supposed to play that day.

Clearing her throat and fixing her costume she stepped into the light, joining the rest of the cast on the stage and started giving her lines.

Any other time she would be focused solely on the scene and words coming out her mouth making sure each of them were perfectly accentuated and spoke just the right way.

So what was this inexplicable instinct that made her scan the audience?

Spotting him.

With his eyes fixed on her, showing something that could not be mistaken for anything else but sheer admiration.

And she did not like it at all.

to be continued? ;)

[thephantomcasebook]

What’s the logic for HotD pretending that Alicent being in a relationship with Criston is the height of scandal. She’s the Queen Mother as far as Westeros is concerned she can retire. She did her job- bore several heirs, raised them, the heir now King is married with an heir of his own. If Alicent wants to do a soft retirement attended to by her long time bodyguard well that’s her business.

Because most people don't know history or understand aristocratic and noble traditions, spoken and unspoken, that exist not only in Westros but in actual real life.

When it comes to arrange marriages in aristocratic settings, it is genuinely understood by both participants that there is an unspoken contract that states that you're loyal to your spouse in public, that you are loyal to your family, and that you will do your duty to your family and your line of succession.

However, once that duty is discharged and or achieved that you are free to pursue other ends and relationships, as long as you follow the rules of the societal conventions.

And no, that is not just for men, it is for both men and women - so there is no "muh feminism!" in these arrangements.

Once a noblewoman gives birth to an heir, a spare, and a daughter of which to use to bargain for more connections to other noble houses, the wife is now free to pursue romance and dalliance's with other men, as long as she sticks to the unspoken social arrangements.

That means not making a spectacle of the Romance in public, being discreet in the affair as to not embarrass one's spouse, and to keep up the appearance of fidelity of the marriage, and you will never - EVER - takes sides against your spouse in favor of your lover.

This was and is still so common among the upper-classes that it is genuinely and widely accepted that the younger children of a Noble House or Aristocratic family are illegitimate children of random affairs had by the Lady of the House. It is not uncommon for aristocratic Great Ladies to have two or three children in the beginning of their marriage and then later in life - Late 30's to Mid 40's - to have more children, with the understanding that these children are not her husbands.

This is such an established rule in European Aristocratic Societies - Especially British High Society - that it is a cataclysmic social faux pas, black listing offense, to point out or comment on the likeness of younger children to their elder siblings or - if you're really fucking ignorant - their father.

With all this said, no one, and I mean no one, would blink in King's Landing or in any court in Westros, that Alicent and Criston are having an affair. The existence of Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena gives Alicent a free pass in the eyes of the nobility to pursue romance and intimacy with Criston. People would not at all be shocked by it, in fact, they'd probably expect it. And if Daeron is not Viserys son, that still wouldn't shock anyone at all. They simply just wouldn't acknowledge it at all. People don't expect Kingsguard to keep their vows and they certainly don't expect people in arranged marriages to stay faithful.

The issue with Rhaeynra is that she is not following the rules of society ... at all. She immediately jumped to having affairs and birthing bastards without doing her duty of producing legitimate heirs to both the Iron Thrones and to House Velaryon first. The reason nobody cares about illegitimate younger children is because they don't inherit anything, their presence doesn't usurp what is rightly the legacy of the Lord of the land or master of the estate. Having bastards and letting them steal the inheritance of the noble family you're supposed to be serving through contract with society and God(s) is spitting on the fabric and social contract of which everyone plays their part in.

Rhaenyra thinks that just because they're her children, that it gives her the right to break conventions that keep their society glued together. And we see at the end of the war just what happens when her direct actions breaks the fabric of that society and the fate that befalls her and Joffery.

The Alicent and Criston manufactured drama is based on the false assumption that them hooking up is a moral sin in the eyes of everyone, when, in reality, no one would care but Alicent and Criston from the torment of their own conscious.

Also that somehow Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond would somehow be shocked or angered by this is fucking laughable. Criston Cole is the closest thing to a father that Alicent's children have ever had. Criston and Alicent have been inseparable for eighteen years. The show already hinted in 1x09 that Aemond already knows about Alicent and Criston. All the Green kids probably suspect it if they don't outright know about how their mother feels about their pseudo-father.

In the end, it's a failure of the writers to understand the social rules of high society in medieval era Europe and to convey that to a really dumb normie audience that just assume that what Alicent and Criston are doing is evil and wrong, when - in reality - no one would blink at all at it.

Cause, unlike Rhaenyra, Alicent already did her duty to Viserys and House Targaryen.

[newtonsheffield]

Molly, I think they absolutely redecorate, based on this picture. The woodwork, fluted column, and drapes make me think this is the Bridgerton House Drawing Room, but the leather chair and the red rug were not there before, and definitely feel much more like Anthony and Kate’s style.

And if we’re engaging in WILD speculation: looking at the Season 3 episode list, I might assume that this scene takes place in the episode “Joining of Hands” which is episode 7 of 8, so this makes me think that the the redecorating may be a part of a wider story arc involving Kate stepping into the role of Viscountess and Violet stepping back. (I don’t think it’ll be contentious or anything—quite the opposite actually! I think both women will be loving and supportive throughout one another’s journeys)

And if we want to engage in even WILDER speculation: we could assume that this will culminate in Violet moving out of BH at the end of the season, meaning we might just see her famous Farewell Masquerade, and Benedict’s meeting with his Lady in Silver!!

What I need is Anthony walking into the room one day to find Kate and Violet entertaining a man who has wallpaper samples strewn about and several heavy rugs.

“Are we…? Redecorating?” Anthony asked a little hesitantly, bending to kiss his wife’s cheek.

“I’m considering it, Darling.” Kate hummed.

“Yes.” Violet said firmly at exactly the same time.

Kate’s lips quirked in a smile as Anthony made his way over to the biscuits set out.

“This is Mr Abbott, Darling. He was just trying to help us choose a rug that might match the wallpaper in your Chambers and something for in here.”

Anthony inclined his head to the man who said “Lord Bridgerton, Good day.”

Anthony looked quickly at the rugs, before he settled beside his wife. Squeezing himself in where there wasn’t room. “Well none of those match the wallpaper.”

Mr Abbott cleared his throat, “Lady Bridgerton had thought, perhaps, to change the wallpaper to something a little brighter. Gold perhaps.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows and the man seemed to shrink back. “Gold?”

“Gold.” Kate confirmed, “Your chambers are a little… dreary, Darling.”

Anthony could feel Kate watching him, waiting for his reaction to the very thing she’d tried to do in their home. He could feel his mother waiting to drag him from the room and likely give him a tongue lashing about how difficult it was for ladies to leave their family homes and try and settle somewhere else. He’d probably get an encore from Daphne at dinner tonight as well. But she really needn’t bother. Truth be told he was only curious. And perhaps it was a little funny to see Kate scoff at his attempt to be stern.

“If your Lordship agrees of course.” Mr Abbott said quickly. “I have, of course, a number of other samples for your perusal. Ladies often require approval from their husbands before we proceed and I had thought-”

Anthony scoffed, kissing Kate’s cheek again quickly before he stood. “Nonsense, whatever Lady Bridgerton selects will be lovely I’m sure. It’s high time the lord’s chambers were redecorated. I’m sure it’s very dated.” He turned to Kate, tapping his foot against the blue and gold rug, “If I might put in a little bid for this one though, love. And ah… I’ve always wanted one of those… big sort of… leather armchairs for in here.” He turned back to the other man. “Do you think you could help Lady Bridgerton procure me one of those?”

The man’s mouth fell open in surprise, floundering. “I… yes, Lord Bridgerton. Of course, sir.”

“Excellent! If you can make this job your first priority I’ll add a bonus to your invoice.” He turned back to Kate who was smiling at him still, “Will you be joining me for tea in the study later?”

“I will, yes.”

“Lovely. I’ll see you later then, darling.”

And when he left the room he heard Kate sigh, “I’m a little annoyed that he did pick the nicest rug. Now I won’t get to argue with him.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Dark!Feysand x f!reader: Bloodied Wedding Bonds[***]

A/N: Anything relating to dark!feysand, I am 100% down to write it :)

Warnings: Forced marriage, fingering, smut, making of bargains?, sacrilege, squiring, non-con

Word Count: 4,211

It’s not your place to ask questions.

You know it’s not.

But when your clients are the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, it’s a little difficult to keep your mind from wondering. A failing marriage? Marital disputes? Hedonism? None of your business. Your job is to please them, and that is all you should be focusing on.

From the fact alone that they’ve been continuously visiting you, asking after you for nearly a year now, seems to be enough evidence you’re doing well. You’d hope so. Anything they ask for, you give. Anything they want to try, you let them. Anything.

So when your High Lady tells you of a scene she—both of them would like to try, you obey.

————

You try to suppress a shiver as you step over the temple’s threshold.

A slight breeze plays with the hem of the elegant white gown that had been left on your bed, the veil fluttering across your concealed features, hiding the light dust of cosmetics you’d applied—a tint to your lips and cheeks, nothing else.

You jolt when you receive a pinch on the ass, but relax when his familiar wash of night finds its way to your senses. Powerful arms wrap around your waist, a strong, male chest pressing into your back, his chin curving over your head, “you look lovely, dear. White suits you well.”

A smile tips the edges of your lips as you twist your head, peering up into his violet gaze, “and here I was, thinking it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony,” you tut. His eyes gleam in the darkness, the corners of his mouth curving, “I simply couldn’t resist.” His hands grip your waist, and you’re flipped around, the swell of your breasts pressing softly into his chest, “you look so pure in white. I’m having a hard time not forcing you to take your vows bare.”

The shiver that runs down your spine is as real as he is, pleasure warming your skin as you lean in to him. “Isn’t a wedding all about intimacy?” You ask, smiling coyly, “I’m sure you’d be forgiven, Lord.”

A sound of deep, male satisfaction rumbles in his chest, arms tightening and you feel the delicious press of something hard over your abdomen. “Such a tease, aren’t you, darling?” His hand slides lower, cupping your ass and your spine arches. “Only for you two,” you murmur over his soft lips. Breath warms your mouth as he chuckles quietly, “good to know you’re a loyal whore.”

You bristle at the term, but he gives you an apologetic look, “wife.” Amusement glitters in his gaze and you wonder at the sincerity of his correction. “I’m not your wife yet, Rhysand,” you taunt softly, giving him a rueful little smile. This time his laugh is sincere, “I love that about you, you know?” Your smile fades as you peer at him curiously.

Naturally over the months you’ve developed a bond with them, but the kind you’re expected to have with all your clients. To make the transactions easier. You work better if you’re more attuned to them.

“What is it you love, Lord?” His smile widens as he spins you round, walking with you down the aisle, “that you think you have a say in whether you wed us or not.” You laugh at his joke and his arm squeezes you tighter. Pressed to his side.

The High Lady appears at the end of the aisle, and breath catches in your throat. Clad in a silky blue that borders on violet, she’s regal. Hair tied back and curled, a few strands framing the soft, beautiful planes of her face. Lips a rosy red, awaiting patiently as you’re led toward her.

She greets you with a kiss, and you follow obediently. Mouth parts over yours, her tongue sliding in. Rhys’ hands release you, yielding to his mate as he steps around to her side, leaning against the altar as he watches hungrily, arms braced on the hard surface.

“I’m sure he’s already told you how delicious you look in white,” Feyre comments, pulling back a little. You move after her, capturing her mouth again. She hums disapprovingly, but doesn’t scold you for it. Though she does land a light pat to your behind. A small sound whines in your throat; her kisses become more eager. Firmer.

It’s only when Rhys’ hands land on your hips you realise she’s been walking you backward, pushing lightly while keeping attached to your mouth so you drop into his lap. Your spine curves automatically as you feel the hot press of his cock against your backside, winding your hips lightly to give him some friction. Groans rumble at your back, and you melt between them.

Feyre’s tongue strokes over yours and you slide your hand over the nape of her neck, pulling her closer as Rhys moves your hips to his pleasure, using each other as you like. Her teeth nip your lip and you whine, jolting in a way that has Rhys moaning roughly. She’s getting rougher.

Nails bite into your hips; you hiss. The High Lord’s mouth opens over your shoulder, kissing and licking up the bare skin until he’s beneath your ear. Feyre’s fingers skim up your front, working in sync with her counterpart as they hook beneath the straps of your dress. The cold air bites at your nipples as the fabric falls away, quickly encompassed by her hot, wet mouth. Moans spill from your lips as you look down at your High Lady. Her round, blue-grey eyes watching you as her tongue does all sorts of wicked things that should not be done in a temple.

“Feyre,” you whimper, fingers tangling in her hair as she lightly pinches your nipple. She hums; Rhys’ hands slip between your legs, hooking them over his thighs. You lean forward, bracing on the altar beneath you as your spine curves, heat rubbing over his cock. Rough groans grace your ears in response, his hips buck, pushing you forward. “Such a fucking tease, aren’t you?” He grits out, finally putting his teeth in you.

Your eyes widen, then squeeze shut, tugging Feyre closer to your chest, praying for her to copy his movements. A squeal breaks from your lips as her canines scrape the sensitise skin, slowly trailing lower, lower, lower. Hands push away the white fabric with ease, and her mouth opens over your lace-covered heat.

You gasp—they usually tease you for much longer. But she’s giving in so quickly. Thrown off balance, grappling for stability while her tongue dances leisurely over your cunt. “Feyre,” you pant, “what are you—” Pushes underwear to the side. Tongue flicking over your clit.

Rhysand’s hands snake around your waist, grazing up your front. Pinches your nipples. “Don’t think,” he whispers softly at the shell of your ear. His fingers flick deftly over your sensitive skin, urging you to give into them, “just feel.” And by the Mother, you do.

She pushes your legs wider, pulling back only to remove the offending lace then her eyes are drinking you in. You open wider for her, and she moans softly. “Want my mouth, sweet thing?” She asks, pads of her fingers pressing on your inner thigh. Heavy puffs of breath exhale from your lungs, fire warming your veins with addictive pleasure.

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes locking onto hers, “please.”

Her lips curve upward, making your muscles go weak with the dark promise. Canines scrape over your throat, and you’re dragged back to Rhys, so your attention is elsewhere when she bites your clit lightly. You whimper at the pleasure, hips bucking for more. She smiles over your cunt, teeth grazing the sensitive bud. One of Rhys’ hands glides up to cup your throat, tipping your head back, then sliding higher. Covering your eyes.

In the dark, it’s so much better. Imagination runs wild, infinite endings to this path they’ve sent you down. You can’t prepare for when Feyre bites and nips at that sensitive part of you, can’t tense for when Rhys pinches your nipple, tugging. Can’t keep in your soft yelp when one of them smacks between your thighs, the wet slap reverberating off the holy walls.

“Filthy thing,” Rhysand croons, and you flinch when two thick fingers slide between your legs. Feyre’s pulled away, making way for him as he plays with the wetness that’s coalesced there. “Rhys…” you plead softly, wanting him to slide up to his knuckles, curling against that spot he’s had memorised since the first time he’d touched you.

“What do you want, and how badly do you want it?” He purrs, circling your entrance teasingly. Your head tips back onto his shoulder, cool breeze washing over the exposed skin of your top and bare thighs. “I want you to fuck me with your fingers…” you breathe, panting with need.

His hand retracts, smacking down on your tender sex, catching your clit beneath his digits. You flinch, moaning sharply. “How bad, birdie?” He repeats, soothing the pained area with gentle rolls of his fingers, Feyre’s pink tongue helping with the stinging. Muscles melt, and your legs spread wider. “Anything…” you stammer softly, the word catching between your moans.

A low snarl of approval reverberates through his chest, picturing how his lip is curling to showcase perfect, sharp teeth. “Anything?” He repeats, intonation quirking with malevolent interest. “I wonder, how far would you really go for an orgasm?” He laughs lowly, closer to a growl, really.

“I’ll crawl wherever you ask me to,” you answer, and he snarls with approval. “Such a clever tongue,” he croons, fingers sliding down to your centre, again oscillating around your entrance. “Would you promise that to us?” He asks.

You nod drunkenly, too focused on how close his skilled fingers are to where you want them to pay close attention. He’d told you to feel, so you’re feeling.

Rhys hums at your back, then his fingers are retracting, spreading you wide for his mate as she dives back in, tongue lapping and flicking eagerly, suckling your tender clit.

“What about your cunt? Would you promise that to us?” He asks, hunger dragging beneath his question.

“It’s yours anyway,” you moan, spine curving as her tongue swirls over your sensitive bud, dropping lower to push against your sopping hole. He snarls again, and you know he’s pleased. “So well trained, aren’t you, little lynx?” He spits, hand still keeping you in darkness.

“What about you, then? Think that’ll be good enough?” Arousal spikes your pulse, Feyre’s precious little tongue pushing into you, desperate to taste you; be inside you in some way.

“Yeah…” you moan sweetly, winding your hips in encouragement as your clit begins to tingle with heat. His hand smacks down again, Feyre leaving just a moment before. You jolt, not knowing what you did wrong. You open your legs wider in attempts to soothe whatever wrong you committed, hoping if you accept more pain it’ll please him.

It’ll please you, too.

“Say it,” he snarls softly, teeth scraping over your ear as he again spreads you wide for his mate to sweep in. “Promise yourself to us. Prove you’re worth the orgasm.” Sweet pleasure blooms in the pit of your belly, pulse picking up at the danger. “I promise,” you whisper, the words a pained breath from your lips as he pinches your clit, Feyre’s tongue pushing into your hole. “More,” he growls, the demand making your hips buck.

“You—…I’m yours—! All of me…completely!” You whimper between your heavy pants. “I promise! I’m yours!”

His mouth fashions itself into a feline smile beside your ear, fingers finally circling over your clit, void of that edge of pressure. “Yeah? Mine and Feyre’s? Promise you’re ours? Belong to us?” Your heart flutters in your chest, fluttering between your legs, too. “I do…!” You whine, hips bucking, hands fisting atop the altar, “I do…I do! I do!”

Fingers and fangs switch place. Breath whooshes from your lungs.

Her teeth circle your clit, tongue flicking out, just as he sinks in up to his knuckles, dragging the pads of his fingers over those spots that make dark and light swirl in your vision. Eyes roll back into your skull, pleasure finally taking you by the throat as it slams you down. Spine arches, toes curl, mouth drops open.

No words come out as your body tenses, then melts, turns hot and liquid as you flow. Lap at the edges of your skin. Burning. Burning from within as fire scorches your blood, singeing your insides with pleasure so intense it blocks out the sting of the bargain, the promise not registering in your mind.

They hardly let you come down from your high before you’re being roughly tossed onto the altar. Barely a second passes between that last flutter of your cunt and the kick of pleasure as Rhys lines himself up, and slams in to the hilt.

The cold stone bites into your back, despite being covered by a veil of cloth. Light burns your quick-adjusting eyes, before being eclipsed as Feyre parts her thighs over you, smothering you as her heat covers your mouth, clit perched atop your nose.

Sense again leaves you, just the feel of Rhys slamming in, deep enough you can feel him in your stomach, pounding you into the sacred stone. Feyre’s hands tangle in your hair, roughly pulling you against her hips as she grinds over your face, her arousal making the drag over your mouth and nose easier, so she slides back and forth. “Stick that tongue out for me, birdie,” she moans, nails scraping over your scalp.

The words hardly register, pleasure numbing your senses while your eyes remain shut, basking in the wet glide of her heat over your lips; nose. She snarls, lifting up only her knees, looking down at you over her shoulder, landing a harsh pat to your cheek. Her fingers bite into your jaw, gripping tight, “open.”

Pain stings up your spine, buzzing in your head as your body follows her order, while your mind scrambles to keep up. Something had overtaken your will. Something had stolen your autonomy.

Heartbeat spikes, and you land three hurried taps to your High Lady’s hip.

Never once have you used your safe word with them. With others, yes. But never them.

Anything they’ve wanted, they’ve gotten. But right now, you’re panicking.

It’s the first rule of your occupation—under no circumstances are bargains ever to be brought into the establishment. They’re never to interfere with the relationship of prostitute and client. They’re too powerful to be messed with; you’ve always stood by that rule.

Feyre pulls off you almost instantly, Rhys’ hips halting a second later though his hands span the tops of your thighs. Panic blurs your mind as you push up onto your elbows, peering down your body. A dark ring of ink had ingrained itself on your stomach, outlining the circle of your belly. Fingertips drag the dark imprint, and you feel a little sick.

“Get rid of it,” you whisper. Your eyes flick to the High Lord’s, his own gleaming with something that has you shrinking back into yourself. Something dark and malignant.

“Rhys…” you pant softly. Breath catches, arms slide over your shoulders, Feyre’s thighs propping you up. Your head tilts backward, exposing your throat as you meet the blue-grey of her eyes. Rosey lips lift into a quiet smile, “you’re ours, now.”

A shudder that’s unrelated to the temperature shivers down your spine as you shake your head. “No…” you breathe. “No…we can’t—… Bargains are—”

“Shh…It’s okay, sweet thing.” Feyre strokes hair from your face, “it’s okay. You won’t get in trouble for serving us.” You simply stare at her, flicking from one blue-grey eye to the other, trying to recall the words of the promise.

“What—… What…?” In your mind, you’re trying to piece things together, broken bits of conversation. “No. I…I can’t, Feyre.” You look at her beseechingly, but she simply continues gently stroking your hair. Your attention turns on Rhys. He’s High Lord—he has to listen. “Rhys,” you say, voice managing to come out even; firm. “Rhys I can’t—… This is a line I can’t cross for you. Remove it.”

Violet flickers, stars winking out in places as he puts you under a hard stare. You raise your chin: this is something you can’t back down on. It’s a bargain for goodness sake.

“You would disobey your High Lord and Lady?” He asks. You blink.

“It’s not a matter of obedience. It’s a matter of respecting my autonomy. I do not want this bargain mark; I don’t even remember the terms. Remove it.” You sit up fully, back feeling cold as your arms wrap protectively over your front.

“You promised yourself to us,” he replies, eyes narrowing on you. “In return for your orgasm, you promised we could have you.”

Breath halts in your throat, eyes stilling on him. This can’t be happening. Fingers fist over the skin of your upper arms. “Free me from this bargain, or I will refuse to have you as clients. Either of you. It is well within my rights to do so,” you say firmly, despite how hard your heart is hammering.

The edges of his mouth quirk, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Lie back down,” he says, as if you’ve said something funny.

“Rhysand!” You snap, defensively pulling up the straps of your thin wedding gown. “This is serious,” you hiss, “you do not make a joke out of things like—”

“Lie down.” Violet drops to icy indigo, eyes hardening as your own widen, muscle complying wilfully. Grey-blue peers down at you, and your brows curve. “Feyre…” She smiles softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Why are you smiling?” You manage, swallowing bits of your fear, “this is serious.”

Her thumb brushes your lips, pushing on the lower one gently, “you’re our wife now.”

Her hand grips your left gently, slipping that unique sapphire ring onto your forth finger—it fits, like magic. “We’ll do this properly another time,” she murmurs, cupping your cheeks. “Get you a proper ring, have a proper ceremony,” she whispers, thumbing away the wet streaks that are beginning to roll back into your hair. “But you’re ours now. That’s all that matters. So you don’t have to worry about being in trouble with that brothel, okay?”

Rhys’ hands tighten on your hips, slotting himself closer between your legs, his length resting hot and heavily over your wet cunt. Eyes tear away from blue-grey, piercing into violet, “stop. Stop that. You can’t do that.”

He smirks, drawing back, letting you feel the slow drag of his cock over your cunt. As it drags down to your centre, tip pushing at the soft dip between your thighs.

You shiver, eyes going teary as you stare at him. “Rhys…” you whimper. Nails digging into your palms while Feyre keeps her hands over your shoulders, pushing you into the stone of the altar.

Rhysand groans at the sound, pleasure drawling from his mouth, rubbing the tip of his cock over your wet heat, bumping your clit. “Say that again, little lynx,” he orders. “Beg for me.”

The bargain crackles over your tummy and tears roll back. There’s no way out of this unless they release you. “Rhys…” you repeat, tongue forming the word all on its own. Adding the pleading undertone, too. As if you want it as much as they do.

Feyre’s eyes latch onto yours, hands cupping your cheeks as she leans down, kissing your glossy lips—glossy and smeared with arousal from her own cunt.

“How does it feel?” She asks softly over your mouth. “Tell me what it’s like having him inside you.”

More tears roll as your jaw opens on its own, ready to answer her question. “Feels good,” you whimper, brows curving with fear. “Filling me up.”

She makes a quiet sound of pleasure and intrigue in the back of her throat, before she’s planting another kiss to your lips, then—

Oh, gods.

“Open up for me,” she murmurs, thighs parting above you as she crawls to be above your face. “Let me feel that sweet tongue of yours again. She always makes me cum so well.”

Rhys presses in a little deeper, just so his head is inside your warm heat, pushing a whine from your lips.

Your mouth opens for her, tongue pressing over your lower lip so she can glide over you with ease, swipe her clit over the rough wetness of the hot muscle. She moans at the sight, lips lifting into a distinctly Feyre-like grin, “good girl.” Before her things widen, and she sinks down onto your mouth.

Tears roll back into the cloth that’s coating the altar as she uses you for her pleasure. Rhysand’s hips drag back, then push in roughly, shoving you further up the stone. Feyre winds over your mouth, finding her pleasure on your tongue.

“Go on,” she goads, sweetly. As if she isn’t degrading you to just a toy for her to put her cunt on. “Start licking. Like you mean it, too.”

The wet muscle flicks out and starts licking at her heat, just as Rhys picks up the pace, graduating from rough pushes to heavy poundings, slamming himself into your pussy until he’s buried to the hilt, creating a bump in your tummy.

Your High Lord groans, his hand splaying across the bulge in your abdomen, pressing down lightly as he fucks you into the sacred stone. “Such a lovely, warm cunt, huh?” He drawls, free hand gripping your hip. “Perfectly snug fit,” he snarls softly, “like you were made for us.”

Feyre whines as you suckle her clit, knowing well what types of sensations get her heating up, winding that coil tighter so she can soak your mouth. Your tongue pushes at her entrance, and she grinds against your face, hands playing with your nipples, pinching and flicking lightly while your own hands grip her thighs.

Rhys thumbs at your clit, drawing an embarrassing whimper from your throat. They both moan in response, Feyre tightening over your lips, needing to come on your tongue, needing to have her sex fluttering from your mouth.

His cock touches all those lovely spots, kissing and dragging over them, the slight curve enabling him to abuse them over and over, until you’re at the edge again.

“Come on, sweet thing,” the High Lady hums, grinding her hips over you, clit swiping over your tongue, sinking her entrance onto your nose as you suckle the sensitive bud. “Make me cum, won’t you? Make it so I’m coating your face, yeah?” She moans, and you cry beneath her.

Rhysand continues pounding into you, and with the feel of him inside your heat, the pad of his thumb playing with your clit, and her fingers on your nipples…you shatter.

Whines and moans spill from your lips, hips bucking wildly, trying to keep up with him while he slams into your cunt over and over until you’re being send scattering into overstimulation. He twitches inside of you, just as Feyre cries out, the liquid of her release spilling into your mouth just as Rhys does the same into your cunt.

You cry at the pleasure, white robe still adorning your skin, though it’s crumpled and wrinkled now. Fourth finger burning beneath the brand of the sapphire wedding band. Skin tingling where the bargain ink marks your skin.

Feyre moans loudly, the sweet sounds of her pleasure bouncing off the temple walls as she squirts, splashing over you as your eyes squeeze shut, continuing your attack to her sensitive, puffy clit, nipping at it whenever you can.

Hot spurts of Rhysand’s cum spill into you, both his hands gripping your hips to keep himself as deep as possible. “Such a good, well-behaved cunt,” he drawls, thumb swiping over your taut bud, muscles jerking at the sensation. “Think she’ll drink all of that up, huh? Keep it nice and deep? All tucked away like the greedy thing she is?”

More tears fall at the demeaning words, but there’s no time for sorrows as he pinches your clit tightly, making you flinch. “You’re forgetting part of your services, little lynx,” he purrs, making you whimper into her heat.

Reluctantly, holding back more tears, you manage to lift your shaky legs, bending at the knee so you can cross them round his hips, like you would normally do with whichever was between your legs that occasion. He groans with pleasure as you tighten your hold on him, keeping his cock deep inside your cunt.

The two of them lean forward, meeting above you as they taste one another, Feyre’s hips rock over your mouth, easing out her aftershocks while Rhys grinds himself against your heat, the tip of his cock dragging over that sensitive spot repeatedly.

You can’t stand the way they now touch you, with possessive ownership. Soft pathways trace onto your skin beneath their fingertips, as if stroking a pet to sleep.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Feysand Taglist: @girlmadeofavocados @zara-aliza

[woaza]

Hi hi! I am so glad to see more delico's nursery fic, especially from you!! It's a crime the fandom is so small. Lately, I have been obsessed with Gerhard and devouring all your fics like a gourmet meal. Could you write about him being married to a high-position officer (like being part of the High Executive of the Blood Police)? So she is really strong and her true strength lies in her exceptional combat skills, strategic mind, and emotional resilience. Kinda like Mikasa Ackerman level AHAHAHAH I am just a sucker for strong lady :DD I hope you don't mind this long request and remember to take care of yourself!!!

Gerhard x Fem!Officer

Contains : Headcannons!

Word count : 4k

Warnings : Slight mentions of violence in a job setting, Gerhard really ‘appreciating’ readers fit figure, Gerhard a little sexiest? Also not double read through for grammar mistakes.

A/n : I’m so so so happy you like my fics! I’m sorry for the wait on your request. I hope you enjoy it.

— Gerhard was podstivly stunned. When he first saw you. You shook him to his core a bit for sure. You’re very being conflicting with his base beliefs. Such a strong figure and energy you carried. And your a women in the blood police? Why would a woman as beautiful as you want to work in such a violent occupation? Let alone a high executive? Yeah he definitely has his eyes on you.

He saw you at the agency in your Uniform. Badges run down your coat, you boots clicking across the tile as you walked. Not speaking or even giving him a second glance. His eyes visibly widened and he caught his breath, only slightly. Choosing to not let it affect him. Yet for some reason after that one close encounter in the small hallway he started to notice you more often. That’s how your whole romance with the stern man started, his shock.

— After that consider Gerhard your devoted husband. Yeah he was hooked. You didn’t spare him a second glance? Probably didn’t even know who he was other than one of the agencies detectives? Long story short, he ended up over working himself just for even a glance or head nod from you until you and him finally got a proper introduction.

— Lord Fra is a man of a certain cut. He only likes to see things his way. His wife, you, being one of the voices of reason in his life. He listens to you. Like really listens. Never in a million years would he ask anyone for help on a classified assignment but you. Each time he’s stumped you always seem to have an idea or solution, your intelligence without a doubt is his favorite feature about you.

He sits in his chair clutching onto the documents scattered across his desk. The fire place cracking loudly, much to his annoyance. How sometimes he wished he could simply sit in pure silence. This case had him almost completely stumped. His eyebrows furrowed so deep that it seemed as his skin would permanently crease. A the door gently creeks open and you strut into the room. “Still on the Mr.Morhead case?” Walking behind him and leaning over his shoulder. Your hands moving to rest on either side of his neck. He does nothing but grumble a bit. “Did you check with his wife, I haven’t seen a file or report come though about her yet?” You whisper quietly, patiently as you scan over the papers. His eyes widen, he wasn’t aware or even informed the man was married. You always seemed to point out little details he missed. It may seem like it annoys him, but don’t be fooled. He loves it.

— He could rave and rave about your mind for days. Unlike other women he’s tried to pursue you are by far the most extraordinary.

— Will go out of his way just to catch a glimpse of you, even if it’s a second. Sometimes you spend early mornings in the Garden with Angelico and one of the house maids. Even though the South wing hall is completely out of his way when he’s leaving for work, he will walk through that because it’s the only one with windows facing the area of the garden your drink your morning tea in. It literally a brief moment and completely out of his way, but he makes the effort.

— Further on that, everything about you to him is perfect. Nothing less for the head of the house Fra. In the weekend evenings when you go in for a bath, ignoring how it improper it is. He likes to help you undress for your bath. His eyes locked onto your lean muscles. Your body a work of art, showing every hour that you’ve put into your work. He finds your dedication extremely attractive.

— Never can beat you in chess, it’s drives him a bit mad. Your ability to always be one step ahead of him is simply humbling. Which is a hard feeling for him to be grapple with. ‘Lord Fra being beaten by his wife in a simple game of chess?’ He can practically hear people say (which no will never know of it and he’ll be sure of that) and it’s embarrassing for him. Then he look up at you sitting across the board heavily contemplating your next move, “oh yes, that’s my wife… the general and head of command.” It makes his fragile ego feel better.

—In the end you never ever cease to amazing and will never admit it, but worships the very air your breath. 

A/n #2: sorry this was a little short! Hope you enjoyed it! Maybe I’ll have to elaborate on this more. I liked this request a lot!

[moonlightazriel]

Son of the Darkness Epilogue /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Hidden for so long The court of shadows thrived, and things were great until the high lord's death, now the next in line should assume the crown of high lord of shadows, will he accept his duties?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 625

Notes: It’s a bittersweet feeling as SOD is finished, this was my first multichapter series and I love it so much, it was a very nice journey.

Son of the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Y/N sighed, her hands resting on her desk as she sipped the warm tea, a soft knock sounded on the other side of the door, and as the door opened, a male stepped in.

“High Lady.” He bowed his head a little. “This appeared today, it’s for you.” He approached the table and left the letter on top of the papers that were scattered around.

“Thank you, Yur.” She said and the male just nodded, leaving her office. She reached for the letter, no name on it, but she opened the envelope, grabbing the paper inside.

“Dear Y/N!

It’s been a while since we saw each other, things have been great ever since our last encounter. Nyx is growing up so fast, it makes my heart ache with the change.

Nesta and Cassian are happily enjoying their mated life, training the priestesses and whoever wants to join them in combat.

Elain is out in Spring Court with Lucien, the two of them are doing a great job in rebuilding Spring alongside Tamlin, and slowly learning about their bond. Elain told me she plans to accept it soon.

We’ve been happy, and we miss you dearly, but I’m afraid things aren’t as good as we thought, as things with the Mortal Queens are still tense and a new threat looms in the dark.

Rhys doesn’t want to disturb, he says that you and Az need your peace, but I know he is distressed, that he hasn’t been sleeping, fearing that we’re forced to go to battle again.

From a High Lady to another, I beg for your help. We need to prepare for whatever is coming.

Love, Feyre!”

The words made her heart twist on her chest, what could it be now? She clenched her fists, the thought of another thing to disturb their well deserved peace made her blood boil.

She got up, going after her mate, the letter clutched in hands. She found him by the sparring ring, Eris was there, she had no idea they were even coming today. Eva quickly wrapped her from behind.

“I missed you baby.” She says and Y/N smiles at her.

“We missed you too.” She replies, still feeling tense. Azriel immediately turns to her, blocking Eris and striding towards his wife.

“Something wrong?” He asks, feeling her distress through the bond. His hand rested on her belly.

“They need us.” She said, letter in hand. Azriel quickly reads through it.

“I’m sorry but we can’t go.” He replies.

“Of course we can, I still can handle myself Az.” He rolled his eyes.

“You’re four months pregnant, woman.” He pointed and Y/N shrugged.

“I still beat your ass any time.” She argues. “I’m not dying Azriel, I can fight just as well as I could.” Azriel held his mate closer.

“Please, reconsider.” He pouted and she pinched his cheek.

“No! Now we need to get ready, all of us.” She looked around, Eva and Eris nodded but Azriel still didn’t want her risking her life.

“There’s nothing I can say to make you give up?” He begged.

“I never ran away from danger, and I certainly don’t plan to do it now.” She rubbed her belly.

“Okay, but if I feel like you’re in danger, no matter how small, I’m protecting you, and only you, you’re my priority.” He warned.

“Such a Mother Hen.” She joked, pulling her mate in for a kiss. “We will be safe Az, with you, we’re always safe.” She reassured him.

“I can’t say no to my mate.” He finally gave in. “I bet they will be quite shocked about you.” He pointed to the round belly forming.

“Let’s just say that I love to do a big entrance.”

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Taglist: @allison-rosewood-maximoff @devilsfoodcake22 @fieldofdaisiies @valeridarkness @brekkershadowsinger @margssstuff @patdsinner33 @justdreamstars @dr4g0ngirl

[robbsstar]

Hi love! I would have a request for you if you are so kind to give it a try : Aemond x reader with Oleanna Tyrell vibes (very cunning, outspoken and bold). I somehow imagine her as being a couple years older than him, long blood red hair and has a dark vibe to her. She challenges him but she is also a big softie inside capable of the biggest love ever. I really feel like he needs this kind of woman in his life like air :))) And would also be someone to keep him on his toes at all times and rock his world up a bit. Please feel free to adapt this idea however you see fit and thank you million times for giving me the opportunity to request. Can't wait to read more from you, you are super talented and we need more of you ^^

Of course<3 I do want to apologize if I went more for the 'plot' than relationship. Allergies are mentioned lets all pretend it exist in their universe as I'm not really sure whoops.

an unfortunate accident- 4.9k words

pairing / summary / warnings ->

-> Aemond Targaryen x Reader -> You deal with the enemy while being married to Aemond -> slight misogyny towards Rhaenyra, Otto, desrcibtion of death, Aegon, slight swearing but not much

masterlist <-

Due to Alicent's mistrust of anybody who is not related to her, Helaena and Aegon were wed. The Queen consort convinced herself she could only trust those she lived with, her family. She disregarded the woman her crafty father, Hightower, had been offering for Aemond. It was you. He did so to build a stronger house, stronger alliances, or, in his opinion, a greater war opponent against the blacks.

But when it was time for her second born to marry, the stressed mother had little option but to listen to her father this time because she didn't have another daughter. Otto Hightower persuaded his daughter to take into account the Hightower's distant cousins.

Your house was the one. Just as savvy, as wily in their schemes, and as brilliant as the Hightowers. There was just one distinction between the two houses. One House plotted behind closed doors, while the other could not be bothered. Yours was the latter. They caused Otto some resentment, and he was embarrassed to refer to your family as a relative of his. However, he was left with no option because there were no better-bred women in the seven kingdoms. An ideal wife for his grandson, is difficult to manage but not necessary because the two families shared the same notion of the iron throne, a male leader, and no woman.

Your father and Otto Hightower were made of the same ancestors. So it was no wonder they strived for power.

Your father, like Otto Hightower, did not want to serve a woman, a lady who also bore bastards. Your father referred to them as brown-haired, illegitimate whore sons. In their youth, he and Otto had plans to marry their offspring in order for their blood to inherit the throne and power. Your father, not your mother, reared you throughout your entire life. Your mother was a gentle, intelligent, but sensitive woman. Therefore, your father decided to take matters into his own hands and raise you to be brave and powerful, bold and ambitious, cunning and scheming.

You demonstrated early on that you were a perceptive young dove. Your father would receive compliments from other lords who told him he did a fine job. Even though he was aware, he was nonetheless inspired by the compliments that were given to him.

You adored the concept your father planted in your brain and knew from a young age that you were destined to marry into the Targaryen family. Who would turn down the chance to become the high-status lady you were to become? As a result, you carried the distinctive qualities of your house with you as you developed.

You met your soon-to-be husband when you were being watered to blossom into an ideal representation of your father. Throughout your time in Kings Landing, you got to know Aemond Targaryen. The blacks had long since left, having fled to Dragonstone, which you described to Aemond as pitiful. The younger child had told you about his lost eye and how he came across his dragon. You had pledged, filled with awe, that you would protect him from further damage.

The boy had mocked you back then. He assured you that it was his responsibility to safeguard his future wife from harm. His words touched you. You had graciously taken his hands in yours and then addressed the youngster, speaking to him with wise counsel. "My dear boy, let's make a pact to look out for each other from now on." You will use your strength to keep me safe, and I will use my smarts to keep you safe.

Your words had left him in awe. It felt almost wrong for Aemond to trust a person that fast. His vision changed ever since that dreadful night, he became aware of all the snakes and rats who were waiting for the demise of the Targaryens- Hightowers and the ascent of Rhaenyra Velaryon.

Since then, getting along with Aemond was not difficult for you. You two had already started to feel wonderful things for one another before being married. Once you did get married and formed a lifelong commitment, your feelings just grew deeper. The first to congratulate you both were your father and Aemond's grandsire; shortly after, they were discovered to be drinking above their actual limit.

Their plan had worked and you were delighted to assist your brother-in-law in usurping his elder sister. To have him sit on the iron throne. For you to survive in this world, you needed wealth and power, and you knew that if you stopped now, you and your spouse would both perish whenever Rhaenyra Velaryon ascended to the iron throne. You were willing to go to any length for the sake of your husband and family, you told yourself.

As the years passed, the Targaryen line flourished. His wife gave Aegon twins, and Aemond was given a son and a daughter. The older one shares the blood-red hair of his mother and the violet eyes of his father, while your daughter had long, white hair. Like him, she has deep Targaryen eyes. A vibrant violet.

Your step-sister-in-law still lingered back at Dragonstone with her sons. You had never met her yourself. The stories your family spoke, even the maids and guards in Kings Landing were enough to get an insight into her character. You held your description short seeing that you could not fully rely on the tales the maids whispered- you found them exaggerating their tales of her. The stories of the rogue prince, you trusted fully even his brother- the King had spoken ill of him in the past.

You believed the firstborn of the king was calm and composed, certain of her own abilities. You must use caution when facing her, which is a great quality to have in times of war. If the rogue prince is by her side, does she still possess mercy in her heart? You were unaware, and perhaps this is not the right time to learn.

The Targaryens- Hightowers were currently dealing with other concerns. A literal knife was being held against their throats. Today they are expecting a visit from a small but strong house. It is said that one man held the power of seven and thirteen if handed a weapon. They needed men to win the war that was coming for them, and they were not about to deny the house that offered their help. House Tindall offered themselves, led by a strong and hasty man.

However, they were the issue. They were the knife that the king had invited for dinner today. Your grandsire-in-law intended to attack them in order to weaken Rhaenyra, not to gather the warriors Lord Tindall so generously provided. You were aware of Rhaenyra's followers, particularly those who resided in Kings Landing.

When it comes to their opinions, your family is a transparent bunch. Maybe not when it comes to their schemes and plots, but they made their opinions known. Therefore, it was difficult for you to keep your mouth shut as you observed her loyal dogs eating, bathing, and sleeping in warm, thick sheets. You were not about to put your husband and two lovely children in danger because you could not compose yourself.

It would only reflect poorly on your own name and that of your father, who raised you differently. A disgrace, which you will never put into consideration, but still, you desired for the traitorous Tindall's to depart or, even better, to die because if they were to return to their queen, she would become stronger. That was something the greens tried to avoid; it was already beginning to look difficult with only three dragons on their side while the blacks have way more.

Hence, you decided to take a different approach. Something that would not declare war but rather be an unfortunate accident. Despite Tindall showing great strength, they also have weaknesses—pathetic ones, you thought.

Your heels filled the halls as you walked along the high walls. The silky, gold dress you are wearing is being held up by one of your hands while the other holds your daughters. While the maids made you ready for the dinner that was about to take place in just a few hours, your ears picked up the rumours the maids spoke about. A weakness. A plan to get rid of Lord Tindall.

In haste, you made your way outside to search for your son and husband. The whole way, you struggled to hide the smirk on your face. ''Mother please! Could you slow down?!'' All the things you wished to tell Aemond left your mind, and you focused on your daughter. As you watched her smooth her silky white hair down, you grinned down at her. You exhaled a chuckle and kissed her on the head.

''I have exciting things to tell your father, my love. My 'running' only reflects my eagerness, and would you not like to see your father yourself? I bet even your brother is there, training to become strong just like your father.'' Your daughter's face lit up just like the sun does every day; it warms your heart. 

''Aemys!'' The little girl called out and ran towards the doors that lead outside, leaving you in the hall alone. You straightened your clothes before pursuing your daughter The sun immediately warms the skin exposed to it, and your eyes squint from its brightness. Only a quick look around was needed to find your daughter again. Her short arms were clinging to the legs of your husband. 

''As she grows, so does her love for you. Perhaps she loves you more than me.'' Your voice caught the attention of your son and Aemond, but your daughter still stuck to him. Your son, Aemys, raced into your arms after dropping his sword. He gains strength as he ages. The arms that are around your waist feel tighter each time you hug your firstborn.

''And he loves you more than me. A fair exchange, I would say.'' Aemond could spout insults and still seem courteous thanks to his soothing voice, which was always pleasant to hear. He took your daughter by her hips and threw her in the air above him. Every time he caught her, a giggle would go past your daughter's lips. Alysys has always been a walking sun in your eyes.

She would remind you of your mother many times—a clever and soft young girl. Her love for animals inspires you, while her mind makes you proud. Your son always surprised you with his boldness; he too was a smart child, something Westeros lacked. But Aemys shines the hardest when he holds a sword in his hand. Sometimes you watch him train and see Aemond in him, and a proud glint in your eyes will be seen.

As you fluffed his hair, dirt trickled down it. His eyes quickly shut, and his hands tried to block yours. ''Mother please! There is no need, as I'm about to continue with father anyway. '' You patted his head one more time before leading him to his sister. ''Go show your sister the things you've just learned, and after I've finished speaking to your father, you may continue your training.'' Aemys went to his sister and took her hand, but not before greeting her with a kiss on her head. ''Come Alysys.''

Aemond's form went near you; his head lowered as he followed his oldest child's action. But instead of kissing you on the head, your husband kissed you on the lips. When he whispered, ''Each time I'm surprised to have so well-spoken children, '' his hands were clasped in yours.

A pleased smile appeared as you bowed your head, breaking your gaze from Aemond. ''It merely implies we have done an excellent job in raising them, husband.'' Aemond continued to stare at you with admiration in his eye. ''I would say, you have done an excellent job. I can assure you that, me, and Aegon were not that clever in our youth.'' It seemed like you could not stop smiling today as his little jest brought amusement to you.

''Perhaps you are right.'' You lightly pinched his arm and teased. His head tilted, he wanted revenge but stopped when he noticed your expression change to a darker one. One he knew all too well. Above Kings Landing, the clouds slowly began to cover the beaming sun. You and he were possessed by Shadow, and so was your discussion.

''But that is not what I am here for. I'm sure you have heard about the Tindalls visiting us.'' As soon as he heard you speak, Aemond's attitude matched yours. ''You mean Rhaenyra's ally.''

''Yes, Aemond. The letter from Lord Tindall mentioned that if we agreed to unite our houses, he would give us his soldiers and his loyalty. Basically, his letter was a lie. I was and still am convinced they were sent by Daemon to kill us.'' The words you spoke were low. Only Aemond could hear you say them in a muted tone. Your eyes watched Aemys fall to the ground, letting Alysys win their pretend fight. ''I assume you already have a plan.''

''That is what i was so excited about, my love. I may or may not have handled everything already.'' A dark glint was in your eyes while you watch Aemonds face twist into a amazed one.

''Am I allowed to know?'' Aemond mumbled in his usual soft voice, behind it you could hear his delight. Your husbands hands freed your face of your fiery red hair as the clouds brought the wind forth. ''No. That is for you to find out.''

''I have heard you were in the kitchens a moment ago. Am I on the right path?'' His hands now gently and lovingly caressed your cheeks. ''Perhaps, perhaps not.'' You replied to him. In the background, Alysys's brother began to torment her while she screamed and laughed.

''I shall wait for the upcoming events then.'' Aemond gave you a kiss and went back towards his sword, which he had stuck in the ground before. His hair swung as he went back to train his son. ''Aemys! Say goodbye to your mother, will you? Aemy's attention was taken from his sister, who lay on the ground and waved to you from a distance. ''Till later, mother!'' 

You returned your child's wave. You believed Aemys was a true gentleman. Your son assisted your youngest in rising from the ground and wiping off the excess dirt she had on her yellowish dress. Aemys pushed his sister's small body in your direction after saying goodbye to her with another kiss on the head.

''Mother! Aemys showed me how to fight without a weapon.'' Alysys laughed as she took your hand. ''I saw, my love. Hence, we are going to have you wash up now. '' You told her when you saw the mud prints left in the hall behind you. ''Oh-oh, '' your daughter mumbled.

The sky went darker as time went by. Aemond and Aemys finished a long time ago and got ready for the upcoming dinner. Well, only your husband, because you and he had planned to bring the children to bed before you left. It was quite late, and you wished to keep Tindall's eyes off your children. 

Aemond closed the doors behind him, bidding Alysys a good night. He came up to your side and extended his arm. ''The guards will watch the doors. '' You and he are walking to the dining hall. Guards followed you to the hall. They are safe, my love, '' you told Aemond when you noticed his unnerving behaviour. You felt the same, letting an ally of Rhaenyra into the castle. It was unnerving.

''Did you have a loving day, brother?'' Aemond pulled a chair out for you, and you sat down while looking at the huge table and the food. ''Wonderful. Just like any other day.'' Aegon answered your question. Beside him sat Helaena, mumbling to herself, but Aegon ignored her like he had always done. Her husband instead drowned in his cups and took a few grapes, popping them in his mouth.

''What about you, dear sister?'' The oldest Targaryen present at the moment asked, sarcasm lacing his rough voice. ''It was marvellous, and it's about to get even better.'' You smirked with glee, and your hand took Aemonds. Aegon was an individual who could not be bothered, but he still had a gift for stirring particular people up, and Aemond was unfortunately one of them.

Aemond felt compelled to protect you since he knew his brother simply intended to mock you. But as Aegon and you both know, your spouse is prone to making his emotions known. The male Targaryens all share the tendency to act in the same way when they are irritated or enraged. He has a tendency to hurt them with his comments, which have in the past caused fights or worse.

That was something you wanted to avoid this eventful evening. At this supper, the Tindall's are expected to feel welcomed.

''Better? Our sisters ass suckers are to sit at this table while they stuff themselves like pigs.'' Aegon scoffed; his eyes locked onto yours. His eye bags were so dark that one would think they were talking to a dead body. ''If you are to be king, my dear brother, then you should learn a few things. This is a great opportunity, so you should use it. Pay attention to this supper rather than overthrowing your liver.''

  Aegon simply scoffed and gulped the liquid in the cup quickly. His eyes were suddenly downcast, disregarding the bug in front that was placed in front of him. He murmured to himself under his breath. ''I don't fucking want it. '' Unsurprisingly, his brother heard. When his stool created a screeching noise, Aemond attempted to get up but was halted by the opening of the tall, gold-layered doors.

Loud steps appeared and were followed by exuberant talking and laughing. Lord Tindall, his family (wife and kids). His mother, a tall brunette woman, was the sole female in the household. Her Husband took the lead, wearing warrior-style clothing and a beard that covered his entire neck. Since Kings Landing was hot even at night, his sleeveless shirt was in keeping with the temperature.

The Lord had black hair, and his face and arms were covered in wounds from battle. His sons were similar in height to him and shared their mother's green eyes and father's black hair. The assumed youngest was roughly the same height as Aemond.

It simply took a single glance. Lord Tindall was a tremendously prideful man, and his pride overshadowed his strategic thinking and ability in battle. Even though he was among the strongest people in all of Westeros, his ego got in the way. No words were uttered by his wife. She was submissive and mum. Her eyes would reflect her respect for her spouse when she looked at him.

Both of these traits were present in their three sons. The tallest and quietest child was the oldest. Even before they sat down, his brothers waited for him to sit first before following him.

You figured that he was the second strongest person in the room. They should not have been underestimated—his father came first. They were sent by Daemon for a reason and not by someone else.

However, you weren't concerned. Even the strongest people cannot withstand a food allergy. The other two sons were loud and proud, just like their father. This ought to be over soon.

All four of you greeted the family. ''Where is the King?'' Lord Tindall's rough voice asked as he looked at the empty seat opposite him. You waited for Aegon to talk, as he was the oldest of the four of you. But a sigh left your mouth when you saw the shrug he sent you. You only returned a disappointed eye roll and spoke as the second oldest.

''I am afraid the king cannot attend today. His sickness is taking a toll on him; he must rest. The queen and the hand of the king will be with us instead.'' You smiled at him and raised your cup, a common sign of acknowledgement. ''I see,'' he replied, his eyes showing slight confusion and intrigue. The lord expected Aegon to talk, the male heir, but was surprised it was the wife of the second-born.

It did not take long for Otto Hightower and the queen to arrive. The evening appeared to go smoothly on the outside, but that was only the case.

The queen forced a smile everytime a joke was told or she was fidgeting around while sometimes staring at the weapons Lord Tindalls guards were wielding. When she learned that an opponent had been invited, she felt anxious. Alicent was concerned for herself, her kids, and especially her grandchildren.

Otto Hightower was the one conversing with Lord Tindall. They started off talking about lighter topics but soon drifted to politics and war. Your grandsire-in-law's actions did not surprise you because he most likely had a plan of his own. He was grasping for information.

Helaena took small bites while nervously listening to one of Lord Tindall's sons, or she was talking if it was with Aemond. Aegon completely kept to himself.

Aemond did not speak much, and if he did, it was only with his own family. To Aegon, he would indignantly throw insults; to his mother, he would reassure her with physical touch or words.

You appreciated Aemond not interrupting the exchange you were having with Lady Tindall. You were sharing stories—false stories—with the wife. At first she would only hum or say a few words, but over time she shared more than you anticipated.

You would closely observe her while you listened to her speak. She would frequently fix her gaze on the guards the Lord had brought. When you questioned whether something was wrong or whether the main course was to her taste, she would smile tensely. Lady Tindall would smile hesitantly and wave her hands.

The Lords guards gradually backed away from their original positions and formed a circle around the table. There were perhaps eight guards there, which seemed excessive for just dinner. However, there were a lot more guards for the queen.

''Does your plan involve killing?'' Aemond whispered into your ear; it was obvious he was triggered, as his eye was shooting daggers at the unfamiliar guards around you. ''Do not worry, my dear, as that would only worsen the matter. "Even if they have the power, one guard cannot beat twenty men at once, can they?''

Your eyes caught your mother-in-law gripping a knife hard; the young wife was beginning to tremble in her seat. Aemond watched you nod behind him, your eyes looking past him. ''Watch over your mother, my love; it is time.'' You mumbled and gave him a kiss on the cheek before you slowly stood up.

''I would like to say a toast while the servants bring in the dessert.'' Everyone in the room tuned in when you raised your hand with a cup of wine in your hand. It was held high while you spoke. The hand of the king leaned back into his seat right as you spoke; a smug aura was emitting from him. However, the queen had trouble feeling at ease. You felt bad for your mother, as she was only going to feel worse with what she was going to witness.

''Lord Tindall, my family wants to thank you dearly for meeting with us and uniting our houses. You will be a great asset to the Targaryens, and we are delighted to wed the future king's daughter, Jahaera Targaryen, to your youngest, Finley Tindall.'' 

''As am I! '' He interrupted and hit his youngest on the shoulder hard. His acting was so fabulous that you had to give it to him. A small cheer followed his words. You only responded with a small lift of your lips and continued.

''My brother Aegon will ascend the iron throne after his father, the king, Viserys Targaryen, and protect the Seven Kingdoms just like his father had done all the years before him. With our strength combined, we will stop anyone who says otherwise, as they are nothing but traitors to us, an enemy we have and will destroy.'' 

You did not hesitate to emphasise the last bit. A quick glance was shared with your distant uncle and, at the same time, your grandsire-in-law. ''I am sure the ride here took you a long time, and so I want to express our gratitude through a wonderful dessert.''. Many servants began to bring in the dessert.

''I have heard many stories of your hometown, and the foods sounded interesting." With the bowl placed in front of you, I wish to make you feel even more welcome. Good apatite.'' You finished your toast and drank the wine in your hand.

Before taking a seat, you delayed and nodded at one of the guards. When the bowls were set in front of your family as well, they instantly understood. Alicent's expression was one of shock and worry. Otto looked proud but managed to hide it effectively. Helaena played with a bug under the table while trying to avoid glancing at the guests. Aegon's intoxicated self laughed but quickly covered it up by taking another drink. Before that, he gave you a discreet applause, to which you responded with a smirk of your own.

Aemond first looked towards you, looking for a sign of confirmation, and when he got one, his eye was directed to the Lord. His eye followed the way the family began to swallow their hometown's last course. 

''While you eat, I want to confess. My maids, sadly, could not find the right ingredients, and so we had to change a few things.'' You nervously told them, but the second-born spoke fast after you. ''No worries, my lady. This tastes just like the maids at home do it!''

''Oh really?'' You asked, following your grandsire's form. Your back against the chair, a hand holding onto a cup, and the other holding your husband's Your pretending eyes turned sly and dark, and instead of a fake nervous smile, it got replaced by a lazy smirk.

''Then I am glad.'' Even your voice sounded shady. ''I was afraid the peanuts were going to be a distraction.'' This sentence stopped the whole hall. Your family watched with interest when the Tindalls stopped eating their dessert. His wife, Lady Tindall, began to shake with terror. ''P-Peanuts…?''.

Each kid responded differently. The oldest appeared to accept his fate and made an effort to reassure the secondborn one that everything would be alright. The smallest, Finley, started crying, while the second child did nothing but gaze at you with horror written all over his face.

"Y-You cunt!" Bring me Aegon and her head, guards! '' His raspy voice rang out, but all he got in response was silence. Unlike his family, the man with the black hair understood what was happening right away.

He got to his feet and scanned the area. Each of his guards had a severed throat and was lying on the ground. It's unfortunate that Lord Tindall was stuck with his head in the bowl and was unaware of the silent killing.

He hurriedly approached you, his feet pounding the ground so loudly that it echoed. You chose not to move and simply gave him an arrogant shrug. You got blocked by Aemond. Your husband glares at the furious man, watching him hit the ground.

''Th-The Q-Queen! Rhaenyra Velaryon will sit the ir-on throne after Viserys T-Targaryen. I-I pr-omise you tha- Cun….'' He was loyal until his last breath, but it obviously did him and his family no good. Blood was pouring from their eyes, nostrils, and mouth. Aemond slowly made his way back to his seat, almost stumbling over the dead body of Finley Tindall.

''M-My dear? What will we tell the people? Rhaenyra will take this as an act of war, will she not? Father.'' The queen said this while being comforted by her son, Aemond. It was a sight she did not wish to see. 

''Do not worry, mother. Rhaenyra, more like Daemon, cannot do anything as this will only show he had a plan of his own- this is delicious!! My Gosh!'' You interrupted yourself when you tried the dessert. ''A shame they were allergic to peanuts, though, '' you said with a full mouth, ignoring the tense atmosphere around you.

  ''This really isn't bad.'' Aegon muffled and took another spoonful of it. His mother only glanced at him with disbelief. This time Otto spoke and while the king's guards moved the bodies. ''I assume your plan was to lie. We will say an unfortunate accident happened; we had no knowledge of their allergy or a cure. The guards had to be killed because they wanted to kill us. '' Otto told his daughter and offered her the dessert. 

''Exactly. Is it good, my love?'' You beamed and turned to the seat next to you. Aemond nodded at you. ''It is. Perhaps we should give a little to Aemys and Alysys. Our little ones would love it.'' He takes another taste after answering. ''We should.'' You confirmed his thoughts.

The queen was at a loss for words as she observed her children eating in peace. Helaena does appear to be a little uneasy but still emptied the bowl herself. Alicent worries as she looks at her father. After a brief exchange of stares, her father's eyes finally got through to her.

''a-an unfortunate accident… alright.'' She repeated it and took a shaky spoonful of the soft texture. 

[redheadspark]

hello could i have #6 with azriel from acotar? thank u !

A/N - AWWW I love this for Azriel! Thanks for requesting this, non!

Treat

Summary - Azriel developed a sweet tooth thanks to his mate working at a candy shop

Warnings - Just some cute fluff

"There she is! And she bears gifts!"

"Don't be nice to her because she brings us free candy, Cassian,"

"What are you talking about, Nesta? I happen to think she's pretty cool. Don't be jealous, baby,"

Nesta just rolled her eyes and got up to help you in as you were coming into the River House. Cassian took your bags to help ease the burdens from you, though you saw him try to peek into the bags that he had under his arms. Nesta scolded him as you giggled.

"Not yet, Cas! You know the rules! Let's help her get settled first with the others," Nesta explained to him as she wrapped an arm with yours, "I think your mate let it slip that you were bringing us some of your treats from your shop,"

"I can't take him anywhere, can I?" You teased as Nesta laughed.

You loved being the owner of the one sole sweet shop in all Velaris, it was your dream come true. You made all the candy in the shop, from the chocolate to the sour lollipops that the kids craved. Working all day and creating new confectionary treats for the holidays were all in a day's work. Which then will lead to the perfect group to test your treats and candies on.

Your best friends: The Inner Circle. And your mate, Azriel the Shawdowsinger.

You met them HIgh Lord Rhysand first, coming in with his wife and High Lady Feyre one afternoon as they were walking through town together. They came into your shop and were intrigued by all that you had out on display. High Lady Feyre was browsing the treats with wide eyes and a hint of wonder, the High Lord was watching her in amusement while she filled her bin with plenty of candy. You were merely shocked to have the High Lord and Lady in your little store, and they struck up a conversation with you as you rang them up.

They came again a few days later, and they brought friends with them including Azriel.

"Hello! We were wondering if we needed to send Azriel out to fetch you! I hope you made it okay with your workload," Feyre said as you walked into her personal sitting area of their home. Elaine and Lucien were talking together on one of the loveseat couches, Mor was fiddling with a faint stain on her dress, and your mate Azriel moved over instantly when he saw Cassian with your bags in his hands.

"You should have told me you had a bigger load to bring, I could have helped--" Azriel said to you with a hint of concern as you huffed and kissed his cheek to have the worry melt away.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, sweetheart," You replied, "Plus I have Cassian,"

"Good job putting him to work," Rhysand joked as he walked into the sitting room behind you, Nesta, and Cassian, "Seems he's gotten soft with no new soldiers to train,"

"I resent that, Rhys!" Cassian retorted as you took the bags from Cassian and walked them over to the coffee table. You were kneeling in front of the table, placing the bags on the floor. Azriel glided over to kneel next to you.

"It wasn't too much trouble then?" He asked sheepishly as you were about to take out the candy you had in the bag. You sighed and looked at him, seeing him search your eyes. Deep down you knew he would always look out for you, even with the smaller things that seemed mundane. It was almost like his own love language with you.

"Az, I'm fine," You replied, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before you looked back at the bags, "Now! I require these treats to be taken out of my hands. Elaine, I have some great bonbons for you to enjoy,"

Elaine gasped as you handed her a massive package of frozen treats, she grinned widely and hugged you before she glided back to her spot next to Lucien and started opening them immediately.

"Fruit jellies for Mor," You said to Mor as you tossed the smaller box to Mor. She caught it mid-air, and she winked at you.

"Nesta, your favorite herbal candies," You said to Nesta as you handed her the smaller but filled box. She grinned and kissed you on the forehead as Cassian was hovering nearby. You had to chuckle as you gave him a box, "Here are your nougats, Cassian,"

"Thank you!" He replied, popping a nougat bite in his mouth instantly and groaning in happiness as Nesta chuckled at her mate.

"For Feyre, her favorite licorice treats!" You said in a chipper tone, "And the best chocolates for the High Lord of course,"

Rhysand took both boxes and gave you a slight bow, returning them to Feyre. You looked at each of your friends, seeing them enjoy the candies you created and you felt a wave of satisfaction.

You loved giving them some of your candies, they were your family and close friends after all. Ever since you met the High Lord and Lady, they brought the Inner Circle with them and you connected with them right away. Especially with Azriel, who was a bit shy to talk to you. Yet you were smitten with him too, seeing how he was gravitating to the simpler milk chocolate pieces that were on display for tasting. You then introduced him to lemon drops, seeing his eyes go a bit big from tasting one in his mouth and you saw a hint of blush on his cheeks.

It was history for you two from there on out.

After the others that their fill with their new treats and after a great dinner together, you and Azriel were going back to your little apartment above the candy shop. You still lived there when the hours were too long at the shop, but you and Azriel had your own place on the outside of Velaris near the cove, with a view of the sea that was enchanting. You and Azriel sat side by side on the bed together, already in your pajamas and tucked in for the night as you handed him his own portion of candy. Azriel grinned, opening the top to see his Lemon Drops and those little chocolates he loved.

"You didn't want to give them to me in front of the others, I take it?" He asked you as you took a lemon drop in your fingers.

"No, because feeding you in front of them would lead to embarrassment," You replied, Azriel laughed as you fed him the lemon drop. He groaned from the taste, making you lean your head on his shoulder as he then took a piece of chocolate to feed you. You barely tasted your own treats, but you did every once in a while. Especially when Azriel was involved.

Cassian even mentioned once that Azriel never liked sweets until you two got together as mates. You thought of that as shocking really since Azriel was softer than he let on with others. But Cassian thought it was rather cute that Azriel would take any treat you would offer, though he was no fan of the sour or hot ones. You learned that that hard way when he had to spit it out, though in the end, you two were roaring in laughter.

"I'll make you your own batch of lemon drops," You said to Azriel as he popped a few more lemon drop pieces in his mouth. Azriel only kissed the top of your head and hummed.

"You're the only sweet thing I need," he replied, then paused as you giggled.

"That was terrible, Az," you said as he laughed.

"You can blame Cassian for that line," He explained as you took another chocolate.

The End.

Spring Prompt Sessions

[separatist-apologist]

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

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“Stop fussing.”

Impossible instructions for nine year old Elain. While her mother tried her best to tie a large, cream colored ribbon in her bouncy curls, Elain tried to inch herself further toward the window. A lilac scented breeze poured in, ruffing sheer curtains playfully, while buttery beams of sunlight illuminated her mothers bedchamber.

All of Prythian was about to descend on the Spring Court. For the first time in seven years, given the current rotation of courts and lords. Elain had been only a baby then, and too young and unimportant to be allowed to go to any of the other courts. She was minor nobility—a Wildwood on her mothers side, which meant something among the Spring courtiers. Her line was ancient and old, and the fact that she’d married an Archeron had been unusual.

Her father, after all, was little more than a merchant from Hybern, come to settle after the last war with Prythian. He’d left his home and everything he loved for Elain’s mother, and though he was mostly respected at court, he’d never be anything other than a foreign born working man.

No matter how wealthy he was, or how his ties improved the High Lord of Springs relationship with the once volatile nation.

Elain knew these things because she wanted a seat at the High Lord’s table someday. Not as a wife, which she knew was whispered about, but an equal. A political player to rival even the wiliest of Autumn Court. 

More than that, Elain wanted to study in the Day Court. She wanted to learn from the High Lord and his lady, wanted to sit in their famed libraries that reportedly held the compendium of the world's knowledge. Which meant today, with a perfect ribbon in her immaculately curled hair, and a pretty, daffodil yellow dress, that Elain had to impress the Lady of Day Court.

Amera Spell-Cleaver. Rumored to be the most beautiful female in all of Prythian, Amera had been wed to not one, but two High Lords. Beron Vanserra had claimed the Autumn born lady as his bride, and sired four sons with her before a mating bond snapped between Amera and Helion, High Lord of Day. Elain had been alive for none of the following drama, though she’d heard a war had nearly been fought on her behalf. In the end, a deal had been struck—Beron kept his sons, and Amera was allowed to leave and remarry.

She had another son Elain had never met, though she knew his name. Lucien. Elain knew the names of all the one-day High Lords. She knew the names of the daughters who would intermarry into other courts, strengthening the ties of their brothers and their allies.

As a second daughter, Elain felt less pressure to marry well. She was certain a proper match would be arranged for her eventually, but marrying an important lord—or even an heir—would fall to Nesta. Feyre was far too wild to ever marry, no matter what the youngest son of the High Lord of Spring thought.

“Are you paying attention?” her mother demanded, pulling open a wooden box of jewelry. Elain nodded her head, though of course she hadn’t been. She was so afraid she’d miss the arrival of Amera and thus her chance at making a perfect first impression. 

“It’s your job to keep Feyre in line,” her mother told her, handing Elain a pair of pretty, pear earrings. Elain slid them in carefully, lips sealed though she wanted to protest. “We can have no embarrassments. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mama,” Elain agreed, knowing full well her mother wasn’t asking so much as telling. No matter how hard anyone tried, Feyre was never going to be a great lady which irked their mother to no end. She’d all but written Feyre off as unsalvageable. Elain pretended it didn’t hurt her feelings, even when her parents made their blatant favorites known. 

“Do try and keep from being too underfoot,” her mother added, taking one last look at Elain. Whatever she saw satisfied her, which Elain took to mean she was beautiful. “I know how you love parties.”

Elain offered a beaming smile. “Yes, mama.”

And with those final, parting words, Elain was allowed to leave her mothers chamber in the High Lords sprawling country estate. Elain’s own bedroom was just down the hall, a trio of interconnecting chambers she shared with both Nesta and Feyre. Elain had grown up among the rolling, lush hills dotted with wildflowers. She’d spent days in the woods, playing hide and seek with the other children at court. In between her own lessons, Elain spent time in the garden, working the soil until she managed to make something lovely grow. The Lady of Spring didn’t mind and had encouraged Elain with her own set of gardening tools.

Elain found Nesta in the grandhall, beautiful like always with her braided crown of golden brown hair and her nose pressed into a book. Elain bounded toward her, plopping beside Nesta on the rose-carved bench.

“Are you excited?”

“No.”

Elain huffed out a sigh. Nesta glanced over, one brow arched. “You know, one day some male is going to think you like politics so much because you find him fascinating. And then what, Elain? When you have to marry some boring lord's son, all because you don’t know when to make yourself scarce?”“At least I’ll have someone to talk to,” Elain snarked back.

“Yes,” Nesta’s lips curled into a sneer so reminiscent of their mother that Elain sat up taller instinctively. “How interesting he’ll find you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Elain snapped. 

“You’re better off in the woods with Feyre,” Nesta added, her silvery blue eyes drifting toward the archway. Elain started to look before the sound of chatter down the opposite end of the hall caught her attention. Someone had arrived. Elain jumped from her chair, nearly smacking into Killian. The second born to the High Lord of Spring, he and Elain might have been friends had he been born a century earlier.

And he not been so cruel. Oh, he was kind to her, but to those he found unworthy of his time or attention, Killian was often vicious. He made her nervous, despite his easy, golden good looks. He didn’t particularly care for Nesta, who was snappish, and she’d heard him once shout at Feyre for dragging mud into the estate. 

He was nice to her, though. Catching her by the arms, he offered her a handsome smile. “Careful, princess.”

She’d long since stopped reminding him she wasn’t a princess. 

“Sorry,” she said instead, dipping into a polite bow. His smile widened, one hand reaching for one of her springy curls. He was always touching her hair for reasons Elain couldn’t make sense of. 

“No need to apologize. Where are you off to?”

Green eyes sparkled with some unknown joke. Elain wanted to pull the hair he was threading through his fingers out of his grasp. She could see her older sister from the corner of her eye watching, those silvery blue eyes burning with dislike. 

“I heard someone arrived.”

“Dawn,” he said conspiratorially. “Punctual, like always.”

He didn’t budge, forcing her to keep her attention wholly on him. Elain still wanted to meet the other delegations. 

“Of course, my lord.”

“Why don’t you let me walk you through the garden, little princess?”

An arm looped through Elain’s and all at once, Killian dropped the curl he’d been fingering. Nesta stood beside Elain, her book clutched in her free hand.

“No need, Lord Killian. I will occupy my baby sister.”

His easy smile faded. Dipping a head of shoulder length blonde hair, Elain watched him retreat. She had the sense there’d been some sort of power struggle and that Nesta, despite being eleven, had won. 

“Come on,” Nesta grumbled, tugging Elain down the corridor. “We’ll miss everyone’s arrival if Killian keeps talking.”

Elain rounded the corner just in time. Freezing in place and gripping Nesta’s hand so hard her sister yanked away with a hiss, Elain made it to the foyer just in time for the Lady of Day to step inside. 

She was beautiful. Elain had never seen anyone as lovely as Amera Spell-Cleaver. Draped in a gown of gold and crowned in a bright, sunburst tiara, she looked warm. Russet eyes sparkled while her auburn hair cascaded about her slim shoulders in a glossy waterfall. She was greeted by the pretty Lady of Spring while her husband, Helion Spell-Cleaver, offered the High Lord of Spring a tense smile and a tight bow. 

“My son,” Amera said sweetly. Her voice was like music, Elain decided. Even Nesta seemed taken aback by her sweetness. Amera pushed forward a boy who couldn’t have been older than Nesta. He had his fathers face, though all of his features seemed too big for his lanky frame. His golden brown skin was offset by shoulder length red hair half braided from his scap. Like his father, he wore a white pleated skirt around his skinny legs, while a bolt of fabric clasped over one of his bony shoulders.

He did not look pleased to be there. 

Elain started to take a step forward, which proved to be a mistake. The Lady of Spring noticed her. Smiling, she said, “Poor Lucien looks exhausted. Tamlin is out with his older brother, but perhaps Lady Elain could show you around?” Lucien looked over at Elain before turning to his father. “I want to stay with you,” he said, not looking at Elain a second more.

“Go,” his father urged as he placed a broad hand against his son's back. “Make a friend.”

Nesta snorted, well aware Elain had been thwarted. But Lady Amera was looking at her, and Elain was able to sink into a deep curtsey before the Day Court royals. Looking only at Amera, she said, “It’s so lovely to meet you. I’m Elain.”

Amera’s smile widened. “If my son gives you any trouble, you come find me.”

“Of course.”

The adults pushed forward while Nesta took off, determined not to be roped into entertaining a foreign prince. It left Elain to stand before him awkwardly.

“Do you want to see the garden?” she asked him. Lucien shrugged.

“Fine.”

Elain gestured for him to follow her out onto the lawn. A paved stone path wound from the front drive, leading around the side of the estate toward the sprawling garden. Elain was giddy with excitement. She’d show Lucien around, take him back indoors, and charm the mother he clearly didn’t appreciate.

“Do you like flowers?” she asked him.

“No.”

“What do you like?” she pressed, a little annoyed with how sullen he was. 

“Swimming,” Lucien finally said, shuffling his sandaled feet. Elain thought of the starlight pool before casting it from her mind. It was too far from the grounds to trek out that far, especially when she barely wanted to be in the garden.

“Well—”

“Little Lucy,” crooned a masculine voice just behind them. Lucien went still for a second, his face wan. Elain turned, frowning when Eris Vanserra strolled around the hedges, his hands jammed in his pockets. He was fifty something, far older than either of them.

“Do you want a tour of the garden?” Elain asked, thinking it would scare him off. Eris grinned, canines gleaming beneath the golden light of Spring.

“I would love a tour, little princess. I hear this was a mating gift from the High Lord to his wife.”

Eris was far better company than Lucien based on that one sentence alone.

“He did!” she said with a smile, resuming her pace along the path. 

“How lovely. Mates are so rare…so cherished—”

“Shut up,” Lucien hissed under his breath, his hands balled to fists. “Shut up about father right now.”

“What did I say?” Eris asked innocently, and too late, Elain realized she was caught in the middle of a fight between half brothers. 

“You know what you’re doing!” Lucien accused. Elain sidestepped them both, backing toward a pond at the edge of the garden. A little bench beckoned for her to sit, to wait this out until she could return indoors.

Eris, every inch a grown male, stared down his straight nose at his brother. “Why don’t you, in all your infinite wisdom, tell me what I’m doing.”

It was a warning. Elain lived with four brothers, all of whom fought like this. Telling Eris, the heir apparent to Autumn, to stop, was far too frightening. Lucien was just a boy, though. Eris’s amber eyes flashed as a warm breeze ruffled his short auburn hair. Both Lucien and Eris favored their fathers too much to look similar, though they shared that same shade of red hair. 

“Maybe we could keep walking?” Elain asked, the words coming from her in a squeak. Eris’s eyes snapped to her face.

“A wonderful idea—”

“I don’t want to be out here with him!” Lucien snapped, whirling so fast Elain knocked into him. Lucien’s hands collided with her chest, shoving her out of the way. Elain reached for something that might prevent her from falling into the pond and found only air.

Her back hit the cold water with a splash. It wasn’t deep where she’d fallen, but when Elain scrambled up onto her elbows, looking at a stunned—and maybe apologetic—Lucien, fingers curled around her ankle and yanked.

She tried to scream. Water filled her lungs and Elain screwed her eyes up tight, choking and spluttering with panic. She knew who held her—one of the water wraiths had found her and was dragging her to the bottom where Elain would be made into a meal. Twisting and thrashing did no good. The grip on her was ironclad, bruising her ankle to the point of crushing bone.

Elain felt a sob rise in her chest. She wanted her dad, or her mom, or even her sisters. Someone to save her.

Strong hands gripped Elain’s shoulders. More wraiths, she thought as she fought violently against the hold. The water had warmed, was almost too hot, though that might have been her imagination. The hand on her ankle vanished as the ones on her arms wrapped around her body. She couldn’t fight them, could only accept this miserable fate.

Her head hit the air first. Elain spluttered, blinking open her eyes. Eris Vanserra waded toward the shore, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“You’re fine,” he said when she began trembling. Elain wrapped her arms and legs around him, trying to climb higher in order to escape the water and the wraiths she was certain would return. “Calm down, you’ll drown us both.”

“I want my daddy,” Elain managed, sucking in a breath of air. On the shore, Lucien stood looking terrified.

“I—” he tried, but Elain couldn’t help the wailing sob that escaped her. 

“She’s fine,” Eris told his brother, rising from the water. Water sluiced off them both, creating large puddles as Eris walked her back to the estate. Elain couldn’t help her frantic sobs, face buried in Eris’s fine green tunic. 

“What happened?”

“No,” she whispered, hearing Killian’s voice just behind her. Eris’s grip on Elain’s body tightened ever so slightly. 

“Nothing that concerns you,” Eris sneered.

“Hand her over,” Killian ordered. Elain clung to Eris tighter. 

“I want my dad,” Elain whimpered as Eris glanced down at her.

“Is this your father?” Eris asked, well aware it wasn’t. Elain shook her head back and forth, unwilling to even look at Killian.

“Eris–”

“Mind your own business,” Eris snapped, his younger brother still trailing at his feet. 

It was humiliating—all of it. Killian didn’t leave, which meant by the time Eris found Elain’s father, another argument had broken out between the pair. Eris’s own father was furious to see his son sopping wet while Amera Vanserra had listened to Elain explain what happened with big, disappointed eyes. 

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Amera said to her eldest as Elain’s father held her tight. 

“I guess it runs in the fucking family,” Eris had spat, turning his back to her.

“I messed this all up,” Elain whispered. Lady Amera would never forgive her for this. 

And in turn, Elain would never forgive Lucien, either.

*fifteen years later*

“WAKE UP LUCIEN!” 

Lucien had the vaguest sense of his bedroom door banging open. Of sandals slapping against marble floors…and a blanket being ripped off his body. Beside him, a feminine voice moaned with displeasure. 

Lucien peeked open an eye. “Arina,” he said lazily, running a hand down his chest. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Get up,” she hissed, eyeing the three naked females surrounding him with distaste. “Helion sent me.”

“He knows where I am.” Lucien smiled as a set of lips kissed down the side of his neck. Arina reached for a pillow and threw it at the offending female so hard she fell off the bed in an attempt to avoid pain.

“Get out of here. Lucien has things to do.”

Lucien groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Is she here, then?”

“Not yet,” Arina told him, watching the females from the night before dress quickly and file out. Lucien would need them again, likely before the day was out. He didn’t know which he enjoyed more—watching them pleasure each other, or how well they pleasured him. 

When it was just him and Arina, Lucien sat up, not bothering to hide his naked frame. It was nothing the willowy blonde hadn’t seen before, though Arina might have been the only female at court that hadn’t climbed into his bed. She was just as prolific—she merely had no interest in him. They’d grown up together, and Lucien supposed Arina was more like a sister. A sister he’d once watch suck someone off in a corridor, at any rate. 

“Your mother would like me to remind you that drowning Elain Archeron is forbidden.”

Lucien scowled. “She’s never going to get over that. It was a fucking accident.”

Arina shrugged. “Is that why you hate her so much?”

Lucien rose, kicking aside a set of underwear that did not belong to him. Lucien hated Elain Archeron for any number of reasons. She was everything wrong with Spring, for one–pretty on the outside, rotten on the inside. She was spoiled, pampered, and selfish. Lucien had been delaying her coming to Day for the last five years, certain she’d give up and marry one of the High Lord’s sons and free him of the misery that was her presence.

She wanted to study politics in his family’s libraries. Wanted to learn from Helion Spell-Cleaver himself. And though Lucien would never admit it, he hated how much his mother seemed to like her. As if she wished Elain was the daughter she’d gotten, versus the son that disappointed her. 

Lucien pulled a white and gold chiton over his head before plunking down in a chair. Arina plunged her fingers into his hair, plucking at last night's braids with her long nails. 

“I don’t hate her,” Lucien finally said. “That would require caring about her, which I don’t.”

“Good. Then you have no problem greeting her at the door.”

He had a lot of problems with that. Lucien had managed to avoid her since that day in Spring. Elain wasn’t considered important enough to join the delegations in other courts, and the one other time he’d been trapped in Spring, he’d avoided her like the plague. Lucien had never forgotten the look of anger on Eris’s face the day Elain was nearly drowned—nor had he forgotten his fathers anger and his mothers quiet disappointment.

No matter how many times he insisted he’d never meant to shove her, that they’d merely collided into each other and he’d been just as afraid she would be hurt as Eris had been, no one believed him. Elain had sniffled through that story like a doe eyed mouse and claimed he’d been so mad he’d pushed her.

I was only doing what I was told.

Yeah, well, fuck her. 

Lucien laced up his sandals, satisfied his hair was decent enough, and turned to Arina. “How long am I supposed to endure her presence?”

Arina sighed as she smoothed out her own vibrant, purple dress. “She’s one female, Lucien. You’re supposed to be High Lord someday. You’ll have to endure far worse than Elain before then.” Lucien reached for a wavy strand of her golden hair and tugged. She smacked him in the stomach, a scowl twisting her pretty features. Lucien took her hand in his and pulled her from the bedroom. Day Court was unlike any other palace in Prythian. Built atop a hill, the structure stretched skyward with yawning spires that, at high noon, seemed to touch the very sun itself. Open and vibrant light poured through massive windows while the corridors were often the site of passionate debate among scholars, politicians, and other folks who’d come up for the day. 

Helion hosted musicians and artists, as well as priestesses who had a temple in the city of Rhodes below. No one was ever truly alone in the palace, and while the noise occasionally got to him, Lucien rather liked the bustle of his home. 

There were always things to do. 

Today, though, Lucien only had one job. He knew he was late when he strolled into the throne room where his father sat, crowned High Lord of their home. His mother was at the foot of the dais, holding the face of Elain Archeron in her hands. Lucien could see the cascade of honey blonde hair trailing to her waist and the blush colored gown hugging her frame. He was grateful to see nothing else—from behind, Elain was exactly his type. 

“Lucien,” his mother breathed, smiling over Elain’s head to look at him. “You made it.”

Lucien swept into a deep bow, pausing at Elain’s shoulder. The smell of jasmine and honey slammed into him, heady and sweet like Spring itself. Lucien kept his eyes on his mother, well aware somewhere behind him, Arina was still watching.

“Lucien is our most skilled emissary,” his mother told Elain affectionately. Her praise filled him with warmth only for a moment, replaced in the next second with cold dread. Why was she telling Elain this?

Elain tilted her head to look up at him. Lucien couldn’t breathe fully as he faced her. What had happened to the chubby cheeked child he remembered? The sniveling baby with the big, watery eyes? Elain was, without a doubt, the most beautiful female he’d ever seen in his entire life. Lucien gave himself permission to stare just for a heartbeat. She still had those big, brown eyes though they were somehow more appealing in that soft, heart shaped face she had. Pouty, pink lips were curved into a strained smile, as if looking at him pained her. 

Lucien’s gaze swept toward her small, pert breasts, pressed against the top of her dress before looking back at his mother with a lazy smile. 

“Will Lord Lucien be taking me to Summer, then?” Elain asked with a soft, lilting voice. Lucien’s gaze snapped to his father, reclining in his chair with an easy, amused grace.

“Yes. I trust no one more than my son. For the year you’re with us, Lucien will be your instructor.”

Lucien’s stomach bottomed out. “Will she be accompanying me on my various trips?” That was going to cause him problems, given how Lucien liked to obtain gossip from the other courts. Pillow talk was his best weapon—outside of his cock, of course. 

“If you’re able.”

There was a flash of warning on his fathers face that kept Lucien silent. Elain glanced up at Lucien one last time before beaming at his mother. “I’m so grateful for the opportunity.”

As his mother began to walk Elain out, intending to give her a tour, Lucien made his way toward his father.

“Don’t,” Helion warned, holding up his hand to silence Lucien. “This will be good for you.”

Lucien plopped down on his mothers throne. “What is the point of this? Spring doesn’t allow female emissaries or politicians. Am I training her to be someone’s well-informed wife?”

Helion smothered a smile. “Between you and I, Killian has made his intentions toward Elain very plain—”

“Good, then let her marry him—”

“And your mother thinks Elain was meant for more. She wants more, and I think as long as she’s willing to fight for it, we shouldn’t stand in her way. What could be more terrible than being forced into a marriage you don’t want?”

Lucien groaned. Of course his parents were thinking that. Of course they’d draw parallels between spoiled Elain and Lucien’s lovely mother. “They are hardly the same.”

“Be kind,” his father urged. “Don’t push her in the pool—”

“It was an accident!” he hissed, causing his father to laugh. 

“I know it was. Your mother knows it. It’s a year of a very, very long life, and I trust you will set her up with enough foundational knowledge and your connections in the other courts that, should she decide to leave, she isn’t forced to go back to Spring.”

“And if she wants to stay?”

His father’s smile told Lucien he very much hoped she did. “Well. You can’t be emissary forever.”

Lucien scowled. “I’ll do as you ask. I won’t enjoy it, though.”

Lucien didn’t turn as he strode out of the throne room. 

And he ignored his father's booming laughter trailing behind him.

[sweetbonniebel]

Unbent,unbowed,unbroken

Chapter 3

Aemond/ Aegon/ Jacaerys x fem! Targaryen! Martell! reader

Synopsis: Time flies by quickly, tensions rise in the court of King Viserys the second, his wife and daughter take opposing sides. (y/n) finds herself in the middle of the conflicts, as her marriage might change the tides of history.

Chapter one Chapter two Chapter four

125 ac

It has been three years since the lady (y/n) Martell has arrived in King’s Landing. Numerous letters have been shared between her father, step mother and her younger brother Quentyn. She described what life was like in the court of king Viserys and the queen Alicent.

In turn her father spoke of the life in Dorne, the birth of his son Mallor, the seventh sibling of the princess. Her father often spoke of marriage as it was one way of securing the family line and gain allies to the house Martell as well as keep yn safe in a foreign land.

The noble lady was approaching her tenth and fourth day of birth, the Queen and the sick king have decided to throw a celebration in the name of yn Martell.

…

You knew what it meant to be a lady of such noble birth, half Dornish half Targaryen. Your own mother was betrothed to your father around the same age as you are now, and soon after the ceremony, she was with child.

The princess Rhaenyra took a liking to you, inviting you to join her strolls through the gardens, any meals that she ate with her sons as her husband the lord Laenor was somehow occupied. The dragon princess treated you like her own daughter that she never had. You studied with her sons as well as the children of queen Alicent, sharing more lessons with her daughter as most of the lessons were for men, not women. That was something you never experienced in Dorne, you studied the same subjects as your brother. You learned science, arithmetics, history, art and swordsmanship, but here in Kings landing it was different. You were not allowed to do certain things as a woman, or were frowned upon if you have done something unladylike. Loudly laughing, running, sharing your opinions on multiple topics but especially politics as that was the field for men, women were supposed to be dutiful wives and mothers. Nothing more than an objects which’s only job was to squeeze out heirs, tend to her husbands urges and repeat.

Things were not the same in your homeland, your step mother was a woman of science, your siblings raised the same way, not divided by gender.

Her grace Queen Alicent also treated you with fondness, as you were the best friend of her only daughter Haelena. Talking of the many insects that the princess took interest in, as well as embroidering together and going on walks in the gardens of the keep.

You were present during the birth of the twins Jahaerys and Jahaera, holding Helaena’s hand during her labours, as prince Aegon was occupied with a goblet in his hand. You were fond of the little children, and took care of them along with their mother.

Helaena was a sweet girl, completely different from her brothers, Aegon the drunk who almost always was in some brothel in flea bottom, and Aemond a rather quiet, cunning and talented swordsman, he was made fun of by his own brother and his nephews for lacking a dragon. You didn’t support their antics, it was rude and childish. So Aemond found some comfort in you, he would spend time with you in the library, talking of history and art, going on rides on horseback through the forests of kings landing, the activities and interests you shared were endless. He didn’t treat you as a frail object, nor did he dismiss your interests in science and the arts, he actually encouraged them. Studying together and exchanging theories was something you often found yourself doing with Aemond.

“My lady?” Your maid’s voice interrupted your scribbling on the gentle paper of the letter to your father.

“Yes, Talana?” You answered, putting down your quill and glancing at the woman.

“His highness the King has requested your presence” She spoke quietly, playing with the hem of her burgundy dress.

“Really?” You muttered, it wasn’t often you spent time with the King as his health was worsening by the day. But you enjoyed the talks you had with his grace, he spoke fondly of your mother and grandmother. Viserys found comfort in your presence, you worked with him on the Valyrian sculpture, and talked of the great civilization, but that was the only topic you were allowed to talk about with his grace. He was not interested in your other thoughts, dismissed your talk of the current political situation in the country, as well as conversation about his later children.

“Talana could you help me change?” You asked the servant girl and she nodded. She brought a black and emerald green dress, and helped you in it, she braided your hair in an updo adorned with a hairpin that held many onyx gemstones.

The Kingsguard escorted you to the kings solar, the heavy doors were opened by the guards stationed outside. You thanked the two men and gracefully stepped inside, you noticed that the King was sat in front of the crackling fire that warmed the stone quarters.

“Your grace?” You spoke gently moving next to the king, you held his hand as he jolted awake. Probably falling asleep waiting for you.

“Ah, my sweet (y/n)” He spoke breathlessly, you smiled in return and took a seat next to the king.

“You have asked to see me your grace.”

Viserys looked your way, his thinning hair, lack of arm and a tired look on his face made him seem as if he was on the verge of death, but you knew better as the King’s health was deteriorating for over ten years, but he still kept fighting. His disease was greatly hidden by the small council, but any fanatic of legends could match the symptoms of the ailing king to the curse of the iron throne.

“As you know your fourth and tenth celebration is coming, which makes you a woman now. Gael was your age when she wed Morion, a grand celebration it was. Grandmother was sad to see her only living daughter being wed and shipped to the south, but she knew it was for the best. An alliance with Dorne was desperately needed, and Gael sealed that treaty giving birth to you.” He spoke fondly of his cousin and you knew where this talk was going, you were to be wed.

“What a fine woman she was, kind, beautiful, compassionate, a bit naive but that made her even more endearing.” Viserys smiled at the memory of his cousin. “Now (y/n) it is your duty to continue to strengthen the house of the dragon.”

You nodded at his words caressing his hand gently. He coughed slightly, you jumped towards a goblet of wine to help him ease his throat. He gratefully took the drink and gulped it down.

“You will make a fine wife (y/n).” He mumbled when he stopped coughing. You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the words of the king.

“Thank you, your grace. I just hope to share my life with a decent man.” You mumbled quietly suppressing your displeasure of the way you were perceived.

“Rhaenyra and I have been thinking of a possible match for you.” You smiled at the mention of her highness, this meant that your match wouldn’t be half bad, and you wouldn’t be shipped of to gods knows where.

“We think that Jace would make a fine husband.” He mumbled. “But the Queen proposed to wed you to Aemond.

You stayed silent, the thought of marrying either of them didn’t bring you any emotions, you cared for both of them. They were your good friends, but any fool could see that this was a power play. If you married Jacaerys you were a supporter of Rhaenyra as heir to the throne, and if you married Aemond you would stand being Aegon as king. That was not something you would like to see happen, Rhaenyra would be a much better monarch, but kings landing was the Queens domain, and you had to play right to not be shunned or worse. This was a game of life, death and the throne.

“Your children either with Jace or Aemond would become dragon riders, and serve loyally to Rhaenyra once she becomes queen.” He smiled at the thought of his beloved child.

What he missed to mention was if you married Jace, you would become queen once Rhaenyra has passed. Of course that would only happen if Jace would outlive his mother, and be crowned King, but you knew the realm would not stand for that and certainly the hand of the king lord Otto would oppose. The Hightowers and the Queens loyalists spread rumors that Rhaenyra’s sons were illegitimate, sired by the commander of the city watch ser Harwin of house Strong.

“I am honored that you think I’m worthy of marrying their highnesses.” You murmured to the sickly King, a fit of coughing interrupting his speech. “I should call a maester.” You announced standing up and walking back to the guards, your dress swaying behind you elegantly. That put your conversation of marriage to an end, your engagement is a state matter, and will be treated as such, meaning that a meeting of the small council will decide your fate. Men you do not know will decide your marriage, your fate for the “good” of the realm.

You wanted to scoff at that prospect, some puny lords shall decide whom to wed you to, not even your father has been alerted of the news. As his opinion did not matter much when the king was involved, his decision was the final one. But perhaps the King would not want to start war with the south over the mistreatment of the princes eldest daughter.

…

This was new information, you were to be married off. Either to Jacaerys, opposing the Queen and ignoring the rumors of illegitimacy. They did not know that the blood of the dragon ran thick, princess Rhaenys, the queen who never was had Baratheon blood, she had dark thick curls from her mother. That could easily explain the chestnut hair that Rhaenyra’s sons possessed.

And then again there was Aemond, betraying the Heirs trust. He was only the second son of King Viserys and his second wife Alicent Hightower, rather thin and half the size of his brother at birth but nonetheless ferocious. Bold, willful and hot tempered just like a true dragon. But that was his downfall a lack of steed that his brother and nephews possessed. He was bitter about the lack of a dragon, and the rage and humiliation bubbled inside him until one day it will explode.

The rift between the blacks and the greens were worsening by the day. Queen Alicent and princess Rhaenyra once best of friends, now enemies that could not stand each other. The King did not do much to fix the tensions rising in his court, more possible was the fact that he was oblivious to any happenings in kings landing.

The only reason that the princess Rhaenyra stayed at court was the Kings health, she knew that her father was weak and on the verge of death. When the King dies, the power rested in the person quicker to crown the new ruler. That could not be done if the crowned heir was hundreds of leagues away on dragon stone.

You understood politics and were rather clever, so the succession crisis was no strange matter to you. Even with your knowledge you were not sure of what to do. Turning to a trusted person such as your father for advice was the only thing on your mind at the moment. Maybe your father would have a wise word to say as to who would make a finer husband and a better ally.

“My lady Martell”

The voice of the prince Aegon, echoed through the stone hallway of the red keep. You stopped dead in your tracks and took a deep breath preparing for a unpleasant conversation with your cousin.

“My prince” You answered and turned around gently and curtsied before facing the white haired man. He was slightly slurring his words, probably to over indulgence in wine or other alcoholic beverage. He was often that way, drunk or suffering from morning fog, it depended on the hour of the day.

“You are growing more beautiful by the day” He murmured walking over to you with a slight limp, he draped one of his hands on the small of your back. “Tis a shame that my lowly dragon less brother will be the one to steal your virtue.”

You swallowed thickly at the sentence that left his lips, probably the Queen told him of her plan for you, to marry her favorite son. You knew of the lack of fondness between the brothers, the difference of personalities as well as their contrasting opinions have made it impossible for them to have a good relationship.

“Has her Grace told you so?” You answered with a bit of a bite in your tone, but not enough to startle the prince or insinuate any ill motives.

“Ah mother, she barely tells me anything.” Aegon murmured sadly “No, one of the maids that serve her told me over a passionate evening.”

You clenched your teeth at the mention of the mistreatment that the prince has put countless women through.

“Is that so? His grace my uncle proposed that I either marry your brother, or your nephew.” You answered smugly, taking Aegon by his arm.

“That bastard?” He sounded almost shocked. “Pardon my language my lady but Jace is no more than a son of a lowly knight, he is not fit as your husband.”

“You should watch what you say my prince, what you’re saying is treason. His highness Jacaerys is the son of the princess Rhaenyra and lord Laenor.” You said, your voice hard. Bastard or not he was the son of Rhaenyra, a dragon.

“Oh you don’t have to be so uptight with me princess, we both know he’s a bastard.” He mused, you stayed silent at that comment, preferring to hear what the prince has to say.

You have known Jacaerys for a long time now, he was just and bold as well as caring and protective of his family. He may have not been fathered by ser Laenor, but his mother was still Rhaenyra. The heir to the iron throne, Jace was the next in line of succession.

The brown haired teen was a great friend to you, you spent time together, learning, playing, dancing. So hearing Aegon insult his name did not sit right with you.

Aegon walked you to your room, not exchanging much words between. He was rather monologuing, not saying anything important or of value, rather talking of his daily life, like a diary. You curtsied gently to the prince, as was the custom, once he walked you to your chambers.

…

[clockwork-ashes]

Huge thank you to @sjmromanceweek for such a fun event! Happy Valentine's Day :)

Summary: The Lady of Autumn meets with Helion.

The Lady of Autumn threw open the heavy wooden doors of the ballroom, leaving her husband, along with the rest of the court guests, revelling behind her.  

Golden skirts held in her clenched fist, she made a point to glare at the one guard that shifted in his place by the grand hall’s entrance. “‘If the High Lord asks for my whereabouts, tell him I’ve gone to check on his son.” She nearly cringed at how harsh, how cold, she sounded. 

“My Lady–” 

Raising her ring-clad hand, the guard stopped at her silent command. Callista had grown to hate the fact that no one called her by her name, only ever calling her by her title. She wondered how many years it would take for them to forget that she even had a name at all. “Only if the High Lord asks,” she declared, brushing past the soldier she knew was only doing his job to walk elegantly down the winding, firelit halls of the Forest House. 

The golden crown resting on the Lady of Autumn’s head was heavy, but her back was straight as she carried the burden of such a title gracefully on her shoulders. The further she walked away from the ballroom, the easier Callista felt she could breathe. 

Callista, half a decade into her marriage, had of course been at Beron’s side for countless events. She would even dare say that she had enjoyed most of them, content in her role as both the High Lord’s wife and the Lady of her court. 

Pale fingers trailing along the stone walls, torches flaring ever so slightly as she passed, Callista slowed her pace as she neared her private library. She took a moment to glance around her, observant russett eyes looking down the hall she had come from just to make sure no one had followed her and that no one would see her. 

The Lady of the Autumn Court quickly opened the already unlocked door, hastily shutting it behind her, wincing at how loud the sound was in the silence. 

Large hands took hold of Callista’s waist, lifting her effortlessly to winnow her further into the dark room, behind one of the library’s many bookshelves. She had known Helion would be waiting for her, had been hoping she could get away from the prying eyes of the courts’ aristocrats, if only to meet with Helion alone for a stolen moment. 

She could barely see, but she did not have to in order to throw her arms around Helion’s neck, pulling him towards her in a desperate embrace. 

Helion placed a feather-light kiss to her jaw, a stark contrast to the way she dug the pointed nails of her one hand into the skin of his shoulder. He whispered Callista’s name against the pulse at her throat, placing another soft kiss there before he pulled away just slightly to look down at her, golden eyes taking her in. 

So unlike the men in Autumn, so honest and kind, Callista could read every thought on his open face. She flashed him a genuine smile, “Hi.” 

Helion breathed a laugh that sent shivers up her spine, “Hello, Lissa,” he murmured, taking the one hand from her waist to gently hold the back of her head, thumb now tracing the shape of Callista’s sharp cheekbone. “I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind,” he confessed. 

Back pressed up against the shelf behind her, Callista shook her head. “Just took me longer than I was expecting to leave.” She chose to exclude the part where she had been leaving her watchful husband’s side, had claimed to be going to get herself something to drink. Callista hoped Beron would not question where she had gone, sometimes things were good between them, sometimes he trusted her. 

On occasion, Callista felt a small sense of unease over her infidelity, but as Helion closed the space between them, all thoughts of her husband vanished from her mind. In Helion’s arms, she felt like herself again, no longer the Lady of Autumn, simply Callista. 

Before she had married Beron, she had spent months attempting to convince her father to let her be with Helion, had begged and cried and tried to get her mother to put her foot down as well. Her relationship with her parents was strained, and if Beron was in one of his moods, or had been taking his anger out on their only child, Callista always silently cursed her father, fully blaming him for the situation she found herself in.  

“I’ve missed you,” Helion said, allowing Callista to stop the rush of negative thoughts. 

She did not respond, hoping her kiss would be answer enough. Her eyes fluttering shut, hands in Helion’s long, thick hair, she tugged him closer. The Day Court heir kissed her deeply, moving from her lips, to her throat, to her lips again. 

Callista moaned softly against Helion’s mouth as his hand moved lower, pulling at the mess of her skirts around them. She briefly thought about how it would always be like this between them, stolen kisses and hidden embraces, her heart shattering. 

“I love you,” Helion said between kisses, a slight glow to his dark skin. He took the crown from Callista’s head, tossing it carelessly behind him where it hit the carpet with a thud. 

I am yours, she thought, holding Helion more tightly against her. They would be together, a silent vow Callista made to herself in that moment. In that moment, she truly believed they could build a life together, get married, have a family. 

The Lady of Autumn’s heart belonged to Helion. 

“I love you,” she whispered, the words only for him.

[redbleedingrose]

Eris is a girl dad pt 3

Okay, so I guess I am doing a mini series because I have so many thoughts! So here is a discussion of your newborn babes!! Also formatting is being weird, so sorry about that 

Eris is absolutely fucking thrilled to have two twin girls! 

The entire autumn court was shook to find that the high lady had given birth to two beautiful baby girls, but the celebrations lasted for a month! 

they were born in October, and it becomes a month of celebration for centuries to come to celebrate the birth of Marwa and Twila 

These babes are spoiled from the day they were born OMG, immediately, Eris is insisting that tailors make them beautiful matching dresses for any possible occasion 

and of course, the high lord insists that the same dresses be made for his beautiful perfect wife 

Eris is the best fucking father, he is literally so helpful and caring. 

The male does not let you get up in the middle of the night unless the babes need to be feed

The moment one of his girls lets out even a whimper, he is flying out of bed to check and make sure they are okay 

immediate skin to skin contact so the babes can feel the warmth from their papa and also get used to his scent

Eris whispers little stories and lullubies his mother used to sing to him, and the babes calm almost instantly 

they are already used to papa’s voice because he used to talk at your stomach constantly during your pregnancy

While you enjoy motherhood and love your babes with your entire body, heart, and soul, Eris makes sure to remind you that you are your own person outside of being a mother 

and he makes sure that you have time for yourself, whether that is taking a long bath, getting your hair done, reading in the library he had built for you on your 100th anniversary 

The male is always happy to look after the babes, and damn, he does an amazing job doing it. 

Weaponized incompetance who? 🫡😮‍💨

While the babes are still newborns, Eris makes sure he visits throughout the day, even if he is busy with his duties, the male is constantly checking in and holding the babes, pressing kisses into their temples 

Lucien, of course, is also there to help and is the best uncle ever. The babes love him

Without any doubt, Eris is the most protective father of his newborn babes. He has ordered is hounds to stand guard wherever the babes are. 

outside the nursery? -- obviously 

anytime you take the babes on a stroll? -- without question 

the male is highly paranoid, and you would do anything to soothe your husband and mate, so you agree to let the hounds follow you 

There are also spies Eris has ordered to be constantly watching the babes out of sight 

There is no length Eris would not go to protect his two perfect girls 

Every night after the babes are put to sleep and you are in bed, Eris is thanking you as he holds you close to his chest, murmuring praises and gratitude into your hair

You usually fall asleep together, but if Eris remains awake, he will sneak out of your arms to check on the babes 

Usually both are asleep, and Eris is able to go back to bed content that his babes are safe and happy

Sometimes, Marwa, the eldest, is quietly staring up at him, curious and wide awake. 

Eris assumes it is because the babe is too excited at the new world around her to sleep 

Twila, the youngest, usually falls asleep and stays asleep until she is hungry or uncomfortable 

Eris will take Marwa out of her crib, cuddling her close into his chest, and lesuirly strolls around the house he had built for you once he killed Beron. 

He talks to her about everything (anything he can think of really)

the weather 

the constellations that night in the sky 

his hounds 

His mother

His brothers, especially his two youngest who are his favorite

he mostly talks about you 

“You have the most perfect mother Marwa”

“Don’t you ever worry about anything, Papa is here to protect you always.”

“I will never let anything happen to you”

“If you ever want anything, just tell me okay? I promise, I will get you whatever you want”

“Boys have cooties okay Marwa? So you are not allowed to talk to them until you are at least 500 years old”

“Never grow old my beautiful babe, let papa hold you in his arms forever”

AND SHE JUST STARES UP AT HIM, EYES WIDE WITH CURIOUSITY, LISTENING TO HIS MUSINGS LIKE THE PERFECT GIRL SHE IS 

she listens until she falls asleep

these are some of Eris’ favorite moments with his little girl 

Don’t worry though, Eris is absolutely bonding with his youngest, Twila 

While Marwa is the quieter and calmer of the two, Twila is her perfect compliment 

Twila is always cooing

making the cutest freaking sounds that you and Eris swoon over ugh I cannot ‼️

She is a wriggly babe, an escape artist if you will

she will find a way to get her arms out of her little swaddle 

her tiny fingers constantly grabbing at your and Eris’ fingers 

her fist knocks against your chest as you feed her

her tiny feet are constantly kicking at the air 

she just has so much energy 

While Marwa is content resting with you as you read your book during afternoon tea, Twila is quite restless

Eris is constantly taking her out into the gardens and forest that surround your home 

letting her feel and see the world around her 

He is telling her his life stories as he walks around with her...

and its like she can understand, because the babe coos back her responses to her papa 

He is taking Twila to the stables, introducing her to all his horses, hounds, and practically any animal he can find

So Marwa is the quiet, content, calm babe and Twila is the loud, curious, and restless babe

but they are so easy 

they are the best babes for you and Eris 

the newborn stage was something you were warned about, “you are not going to get any sleep” they said 

but gods, you and Eris are the best partners and parents

these babes are the most happy and content babes anyone has ever seen 

In terms of looks... 

Marwa is your exact copy… Eris likes to say that she is a mini you, and gods does he love it 

she has your eyes 

She has your nose

She has your hair color 

the only thing of Eris’ she has, is her wavey hair 

Twila is really a perfect combination of you and Eris 

she has your eyes 

she has Eris’ auburn hair and waves 

she has your lips 

she has Eris’ nose 

Eris is so fucking excited to see his babe has his hair color I cannot 

The newborn stage is incredibly fun for you and Eris

you are watching your babes grow and learn how to be alive. 

and you and Eris are there every step of the way, supporting and loving them unconditionally 

even if they poop through their daipers onto Eris’ shirt as he holds them

his horrified look he gives you makes you laugh for a couple minutes 

like until you cannot breathe 

literally gasping for air kinda laugh 

like you are laughing even after the moment has ended because you keep remembering the look on his face

even if they leave spit up on your favorite dress 

less funny to you

And mother above, the smirk Eris gives you is so smug, you almost want to smack it off his face 

but Eris promises to buy you a hundred more 

he may also whisper, “Papa’s proud, do it again” at his perfect babes

just because he wants to buy you more dresses 

and maybe cuz he likes to tease you a little