#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

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Forgiveness

Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: Cregan begs for his wife’s forgiveness when he accidentally injures her.

Warning: no use of y/n, dirty talk/mentions of smut, injuries, i'm pretty sure that's it

Word Count: 2.3k

Masterlist

Cregan sat in his study, buried in letters and decrees that claimed they required the utmost attention. They all said that even if they truly did not require that level of priority. However, everyone wanted their Lord’s approval and signature, leaving him to sort through what was a priority and what could wait. In some ways he missed the war, at least he was fighting and protecting his realm then. He felt like a true lord then. Now, he may as well be a bureaucrat locked in some tower of the Red Keep, imprisoned by his own position.

As he moved on to some sort of land dispute, there was a harsh knock on his door. “Enter,” he called, not even looking up.

The large, heavy door swung open, revealing a guard. “Lady Stark, my lord,” he announced.

Interest piqued, Cregan looked up just in time to see the guard step aside, revealing his lady wife. Without having to be dismissed, the man exited, shutting the door behind him to leave the couple alone.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” his wife explained her presence, approaching his desk.

For the first time that day, the Warden of the North took a break from his work, setting his quill down and leaning back in his seat. Sparing a glance out the window, he realized that it was dark. It had only been mid-afternoon when he sat down to begin his bureaucratic duties. “I suppose you’re right,” he confirmed, recalling that he had gently pressed a kiss against his sleeping wife’s head when he woke before disappearing for the day.

Opening his arms, he invited her to approach. Taking his cue, the lady of the north took a seat on his lap, easily slotting into his body. It was a well known fact that the Lord and Lady of Winterfell were unusually affectionate for a pairing of such high status. Typically, love was reserved for those who did not marry for status, or for extramarital affairs. But it seemed the Stark couple had been quite lucky in their match.

“The day has ended, we should go to bed,” Cregan’s wife asked in a soft voice, her fingers trailing through the hair she swept away from his face.

He smiled, finding his tension soothed by her mere presence. “Aye, I wish that I could but this has to be done,” he sighed, gesturing to his desk still covered in documents.

Observing all the work, the lady sighed, leaning her head against her husband’s for a moment. “But you, my lord, are the Warden of the North. Who is to tell you when things must be done?” she asked suggestively, knowing what calling him ‘my lord,’ did to her husband.

Cregan let out the faintest growl, wanting to dive into his wife right there but he restrained himself. “Why I thought that was your job,” he teased.

Fortunately, she laughed, throwing her head back in a way that made Cregan want to mark her neck in the way he so loved. “Please,” she dismissed, “I can hardly get my own husband into bed. How can I tell you what to do?”

He chuckled. “Fortunately for no one, my discipline is strong enough to withstand your temptations. Although, I admit they are barely capable. I swear to you,” he began, gently lifting his wife from his lap, “that I will be in our chambers within the next hour,” he said, eyes flickering to the candle on his desk that was nearly at its end. “I expect you to be ready for me,” he uttered darkly.

His wife blushed like it was their wedding night again, despite hearing far more vulgar things from her husband. “And how shall you expect me?” she asked teasingly.

Cregan bit his lip. As adorable as he found his wife when she was shy and coy at the mere inclination of sex, he loved when she was daring and teasing. He thought for a moment, staying silent for longer than necessary only to create an illusion for his wife. “Naked. On our bed. With your fingers between your legs.”

~

Once again Cregan found himself locked away in his office, buried in endless paperwork. He was deeply entrenched in some matter of land disputes when the door suddenly burst open. Cregan looked up in astonishment, his mouth open to reprimand them for their dismissal of protocol.

“My apologies, my lord,” the out of breath guard interrupted. “But a wildling has attempted to enter Winterfell. Says he wants to be a southerner, like us.”

Cregan quirked a brow, utterly confused as to why this required so much urgency and why someone had dared call him a southerner. “And why does this require so much urgency that you have broken protocol?”

“The gatesmaster believes this may be some sort of ruse to breach the walls of Winterfell.”

Cregan nodded, standing up. As he exited his office, he found a group of guards standing outside, seemingly waiting to follow them outside. He did not say anything about the waste of manpower at his door but headed outside. “Which gate was it?” he asked.

“The north gate,” his guard answered.

Nodding, the Warden of the North headed out to the northern courtyard. As he exited the walls of the keep, he intended to greet the gatesmaster who stood talking to another sentry. But catching sight of the supposed wildling made him freeze. Standing there by the gate was a disheveled man, looking as if he had spent his entire life in the woods. And talking to him, unguarded, was the Lady of Winterfell.

Cregan abandoned his path towards his gatemaster to get his wife away from the wildling. Who would have possibly thought it would be wise to leave both the wildling and his wife unguarded, even more so to let them meet? He was not thinking clearly as he reached the pair, grabbing his wife’s arm to wrench her away from the vile man before her. He must have pulled harder than intended because she let out a yelp as he did so. Still, he did not comprehend it as he whirled around to face his men, still clutching her arm.

“Who left them unguarded?” he demanded, his voice booming so loud it silenced the entire courtyard. He watched in rage as the crowd of men all sent glances to one another.

The spell was only broken by his wife’s cry. “Cregan, you’re hurting me,” he heard his wife whimper. Finally looking at her, he realized just how tightly he was gripping her arm. He relaxed his grip a bit, but still held on tight enough to push her so she stood in front of him, making himself a barrier between her and the wildling. She let out another cry as he jerked her, her free hand reaching for the hand clutched around her arm. She grabbed his wrist in a futile attempt to get him to let go. “Cregan, let go,” she cried again.

Seeing his wife’s face twisted in pain, the Lord of Winterfell realized what he had done. Quickly, he released his grasp, her arm falling into her own grasp. The cold air that whipped through Winterfell became biting as Cregan watched his wife cradle her arm against her chest, backing away from him as if he were the threat. As she backed up toward a guard, gesturing for him to escort her away, Cregan’s heart broke as he realized that in that moment, she felt safer with a guard than with him.

His jaw clenched as he leveled a glare to the men that had followed him, realizing that they had all run to tell him what was happening rather than do their actual jobs. He turned to his gatesmaster who had approached them by now, the few guards who had remained now taking hold of the wildling. “Take him to the dungeons I will deal with him later,” he gestured to the potential threat. “As to this lot, see to it they have nights watch for the next week.” He leveled one last glare at the group of men before heading back inside, intent on finding his wife.

Cregan was already planning his apology to his wife as he reached the hall that housed their chambers. As he walked down the hall, the guard that had escorted her earlier exited his chambers before taking his post just outside the door, sparking some level of unfounded jealousy.

As Cregan walked up to the door, the guard gave him a slight bow. “My lord,” he greeted. He did not reply, simply continuing toward the door, waiting for the guard to open it. But rather, he just spoke again, “The lady has asked me to inform you that she wishes to be left alone.”

Cregan stopped, looking incredulously at the guard. His words stung to hear. He had sworn an oath to protect his wife and had promised her parents that he would be a good husband and never hurt her. Yet here he stood, being barred from his wife by her own wish, with a man of his employ guarding her against him. The sentry looked deeply uncomfortable under his lord’s glare. He truly wanted to honor the wishes of his liege lady but her husband’s orders came first. Reluctantly he reached over, opening the door for the Lord of Winterfell.

Satisfied with his influence, Cregan strolled into his chambers, intending to begin the apology when he stopped short upon seeing the room empty. He turned to look at the guard as if to ask where his wife was. “Some maids escorted her to the maesters,” he informed nervously.

Cregan leveled yet another glare at the man before clenching his jaw and exiting the room, storming towards the maester. As the lord of Winterfell left, his guard briefly considered alternative employment.

Although Cregan had stormed towards the maester’s turret throughout Winterfell, he slowed as he approached the structure. Despite the guards posted outside holding the door open for him, he paused before the building, taking a breath. His wife’s scared expression flashed through his mind and that was a sight he never wanted to see again, yet he knew he would never forget it. The image made all the rage evaporate from him as he slowly entered the turret.

Ascending the stairs, he reached the healing room that he had often visited as a boy. Always having his training injuries and general wounds of boyhood treated here. Sat on the bench in only her shift and skirts was Cregan’s wife, having her arm bandaged in a way that held it to her chest, just as she had chosen to hold it.

Maester Kennet noticed the lord first, slowly halting his movements to look at the man. His wife turned to see the reason for the maester’s pause. She turned, finding her husband standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hollow version of himself. His face looked crestfallen as if he were informing them of a death.

Before she could snub him with a turned gaze, Cregan fell to a knee, his head bowed. “My lady, I truly do wish to apologize to you. I truly never meant to harm you,” he began, his voice dripping with a desire to be believed. “I swore an oath to protect you, as that was all I was trying to do. But instead, I hurt you, and that is a failure I will carry with me until my grave. I understand if you are unable to forgive me, I was being brash and absentminded. But all I ask is that I may be near you.” He looked up slowly, meeting his wife’s gaze. He could not read anything from it aside from pain.

Cregan had felt the pain of wounds of war before, but nothing hurt more than when his wife turned to look at Maester Kennet. But she only whispered a dismissal before looking back to her husband again. Cregan stood eagerly as the man’s hands gently left his wife’s shoulder before he approached his lord. The aging man paused beside Cregan, patting his shoulder momentarily before continuing down the stairs, leaving the couple in privacy.

Cautiously, Cregan approached his lady, once again crouching before her. “I truly am sorry,” he repeated. His wife said nothing as her gaze fell to her lap. But she turned her non-bound hand over in her lap, inviting his hand in hers. Cregan took it eagerly, his other hand going to her face to brush her hair aside as he gently grasped it. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you too,” she cried, falling into him. Cregan caught her, careful of her shoulder as he held her close, even pressing a kiss to the injured area as if promising to care for her.

He continued to hold her and continued to apologize. “I truly did not intend to harm you. I just saw you standing with that wildling, unguarded and all I knew was that I had to get you away from him.”

A comforting hand in his hair soothed him, halting his words. “I know,” she assured. “Maester Kennet explained why you were so upset. I apologize for not being more cautious. I just felt he was being treated unjustly.”

Cregan pulled away only enough to look at his wife, nodding in understanding. “You have a large heart,” he commended. “And it is my job to protect it. Sometimes I get carried away with it.”

The lady smiled, “Well I don’t suppose I can fault you for that.”

Cregan smiled at her forgiveness, once again holding her close. With all forgiven, he gained a teasing lilt to his voice. “Did you send that guard to our chambers to intentionally mislead me?”

“Perhaps,” she agreed, the teasing lilt finding her voice as well. But she attempted to distract from it with a stroke against his back. “I was quite irritated with you.” Cregan just chucked, the rumble of his laugh soothing his wife as they fell back into normalcy.

Masterlist

[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.

[nikalaeva]

And yet Feyre is the High Lady?

I already wrote - I don't hate Feyre. In ACOTAR she was a little bit silly and smug, but good character.

If you are reading this, you know Prythian's rules. Not me or you or anyone else, but the author wrote it. Wives/mates of the High Lords have a title Lady of the Court.

Now the question is - if Rhysand is a true feminist, why didn't he change laws for his darling Feyre? Then he could have said to Helion: "It is now the LAW of the Night Court that High Lord's wife is his equal." "Because I love her" is not something to reason your political decisions with. And one more question - why should the other High Lords call Feyre High Lady? Rhysand's decision has no legal force even in the Night Court, much less outside of it.

Why does Feyre need to be a High Lady, for SJM Rhysand's pride? What exactly does Feyre want to do that can't be done without "High Lady" title? Does Feyre want to change some laws or introduce new ones? Does she want to change the social hierarchy, democratize society or, maybe, prepare it for an absolute monarchy? She is not interested (and does not understand anything) in politics at all, but the title is important for politics. I doubt very much people would want a ruler who is only interested in art - not finances, not diplomacy, not domestic and foreign trade.

Charity work is not main duty of ruler.

Being able to read and write is not enough to control the Court's tax system and fight poverty. Feyre's fans would probably agree that people with same level of education would plan the country's budget or, idk, calculate their salaries and pays.

Banning service for fairies of the CoN 'cause you don't like them personally is illegal - they are also citizens of the NC.

Refusing to communicate with one of the High Lords 'cause he is your toxic ex is blatant political illiteracy.

Feyre's feelings don't matter on political arena. And the meeting of the High Lords is such a scandal, which proved - Feyre's title is a "mask" of feminism, just a check mark for "girl boss" trope. There is nothing but incompetence under it.

Update: oh yeah, all of Feyre's achievements after getting title are belong to fighting/war. And while we see the High Lords fighting on the front lines, their main job is to govern and support society, the citizens in peacetime, not only fight villains.

[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? ;)

[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!

[nocasdatsgay]

Kept - Harlots of Autumn Fic

Pairing: Reader/Beron; Mentions of past Reader/Lucien and mentions of past Reader/Vanserra Brother | Rating: E | Word Count: 2230 |

Autumn Harlots Master Post| Previous Part: Sold | Read on ao3

Summary: Lucien was gone from Autumn. The High Lord requests your presence a week later to find out if you’re worth keeping. 

Trigger Beron. Vague mentions of past non-con. Dubious consent. Power imbalance. Non-con due to power imbalance. Blow jobs. P in V sex. Fire Rope. Inappropriate use of High Lord Powers

A/N: Merry Crisis. It’s still Christmas Eve here so. Anyways no time like the present. HEED THE WARNINGS. 

Gen Tagging List: @secret-third-thing @readychilledwine @acourtofladydeath @lady-of-tearshed @daycourtofficial @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe @thisblogisaboutabook @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @ysmtttty @jon-snows-man-bun If I tagged you by accident let me know

A month of mourning. The whole Forest House was in black daily, solemn moods on every face. The only person you mourned was Lucien. He was so kind to you for so long. He kept his brothers at bay for the first year but eventually they got their hands on you. 

Leon, one of the two you were supposed to be mourning, was the roughest. He liked it when you cried- be it from pleasure or pain. He always made you look him in his ugly brown eyes while he fucked you. And he always forced an orgasm out of you. You might as well enjoy it too, he would whisper in your ear. 

If there was a grave to spit on you would have done it. 

The other brother was just an annoyance when he was alive. Sloppy and drunk most of the times he called for you. You could get him off with your hands and he would pass out immediately after. When he did fuck you he was quick. Maybe it was a blessing he died before taking a wife. 

It was only five days after the announcement of what happened that you received a letter with the High Lord’s seal. Your heart stopped when you saw he requested you meet him in his quarters after dinner. You tossed the letter and burned it- you didn’t want the other two girls, Beca and Rhian finding it. They were kind but even after a few years you still didn't trust them fully yet. 

When you went, you put on one of your better dresses. A burnt orange one that you wore last month at the ball. It was the newest, you felt maybe it would look better if you showed off how you appreciated his generosity. There was a guard at the door. He looked down his nose at you before knocking. A call from the other side and he let you in. 

“High Lord,” you walked in and curtsied. You kept your eyes on the floor. “You called for me?”

Silence. You didn’t look up, too afraid of this being a test. 

“I did.” He finally broke the silence after a moment. You kept your eyes on the decorated carpet. “Do you know why I called for you?” 

“No, High Lord.” 

He hummed. “Beauty but no brains then. That explains why that runt didn’t wish to keep you. I do not know why, considering he was no better.” 

You heart quickened. 

“I gave you a task when you were hired. Entertain my youngest. You must be abysmal company if you could not keep his attentions. Do you have anything to say for yourself? You may speak.” 

“High Lord, I assure you I did my best-“

“Your best obviously wasn’t good enough. Did you know? Of his dalliances with that creature?” 

You winced. “No, High Lord. I did not.”

He hummed. “I believe you. If there was one thing he did learn, it was how to be sly. Besides, if you lied I would know. I always know.” He paused and you held your breath. “That still leaves me with you. What to do with you? Are you worth keeping?” You didn’t answer. “Show me why I should keep you.” 

Your stomach sank. You knew what he wanted. 

“How would you prefer me?” You replied softly. 

“Take three steps, then kneel.” Three small steps and you kneeled on the plush carpet. “Eyes on me.”

Your gaze snapped up. He looked at you from where he lounged in his chair. You had never seen him in such tight clothes. A simple and loose ruby undershirt, the top untied. Your gaze flickered to his brown leather trousers- another article of clothing you’d never seen him in. He looked younger like this. You’d call him handsome if he were a stranger. If you didn’t know what kind of male he was. He stood. You could see and smell his arousal even from a short distance. 

“You are a pretty one,” he stepped up and grabbed you by the chin. Gods, he looked like Eris this close. “But are you worth keeping after your failure to please that runt? Open your mouth.”

He let go and you opened your mouth, resting your tongue on your bottom lip. He forced two fingers into your mouth. You only recoiled slightly from the sudden movement but kept yourself from gagging as he pushed back further. You took a calculated risk: you closed your mouth around his fingers and sucked gently. He grinned. 

“You’re a nasty little cunt. To think you were pure when we got you.” He pulled his fingers out and straightened himself. “Show me how you please a High Lord.” 

You gathered up your hair in the ribbon you kept on your wrist. He laughed at you but you didn’t pay him any mind. With your hair secured, you reached out for his trousers. For half a moment, you wondered if it would be sacrilegious to pretend this was Lucien. You did that sometimes. You wish you knew more when he bedded you so that you could make him feel good too. 

You focused and realized Beron had a belt on- it wasn’t typical Autumn fashion. Still, you undone it from the buckle and undid the button on the trousers. The dark hair on his navel came into view and his clothes were pushed aside. Heat pooled instinctively between your legs at the peak of his straining cock. When you pulled it out, you didn’t know if you physically or mentally made a noise. It was unfair how attractive the Vanserras were considering their personalities. Looking at it fully, it was just as pretty as his sons’. His hand went to your head while you stroked him. Gods, you hope you did this like he wanted. His hand didn’t leave your head while you licked up the underside of his length. 

You kept your eyes up, looking at him from under your lashes when you took him in your mouth. You bobbed once, coating him in your saliva. He tasted different- sharp like Fire Whiskey. He groaned, fingers digging into your scalp to hold you still. You knew what would come next and relaxed your jaw. 

“Good girl,” he sighed and thrusted into your mouth. 

Your mind drifted. Lucien called you a good girl. When he stretched you out with his fingers. When he made you come on his cock. The memory made your panties wet. Your gaze unfocused thinking about him; sucking his cock. He’d reward you and make you feel good too. Beron must have noticed. He grabbed your ponytail and yanked your head back. 

“You focus on me,” he snarled, flames in his eyes. 

“Yes sir.” You muttered and opened your mouth again. 

You made a point to stare at him as he thrusted into your mouth, hand tight on your hair. Did he fuck his wife like this? Did he fuck the other girls like this? They never said. They only talked about the heirs. 

“I see why they wanted you,” he groaned, his thrusts getting rougher and threatening to gag you. “You’re so fucking pretty on your knees. Cry for me and I’ll give you a treat.” 

Beron started pushing down your throat. You gagged once but caught yourself. As commanded, your eyes watered. He seemed to like that. It didn’t take long for him to come down your throat. You swallowed, the aftertaste like whiskey coating your mouth. You desperately prayed to The Mother you wouldn’t cough or choke. He stepped back, your salvia leaving a string from the head to your lips. You didn’t dare wipe it away. 

“Get up.” Beron caught his breath. He let go of your hair and you watched him stroke himself again. “Get up and bend over the chair.” 

You got to your feet and scrambled to the chair he’d been sitting in. You bent over the left arm. In your mind you were terrified but your body- you could smell your own arousal and his. You told yourself it was from thinking of Lucien. Deep down you knew the truth. You liked it. You bit your lip as he came up behind you. You stood your toes, hopping to lift your rear the way he might want. 

His hands gathered your skirt, lifting. He reached under and you inhaled sharply when his warm hands caressed your thigh. He tugged on your undergarments, making them fall to the floor at your feet. 

“I’m keeping these,” he said. 

You could hear him move. He reached down and you made sure to quickly step out of them. You didn’t understand why he would want your undergarments. His sharp inhale startled you. 

“You almost smell good enough to eat. Maybe one day if you earn it.” 

You didn’t know what that meant. 

Suddenly warm fire wrapped around your neck- he had made a fire rope. It didn’t burn but was still warm against your skin. Then he pulled. You gagged and choked as you tried to sit up and lessen the pressure. He laughed and tugged it again. 

“Lift your leg whore.” 

You steadied yourself and lifted your left leg up onto the arm of the chair. Then two more fire ropes wrapped around your wrists. You yelled when your hands were yanked off the chair and moved to your back. He pulled on those, holding you up and you tried to shift your weight to take the pressure off your throat. The rope fire holding your arms behind your back held fast just like the rope on your neck. But it seemed to be what he wanted. You felt him let one hand go and throw up your skirts. He run his fingers along your slit. 

“Whore indeed.” You whimpered when he pushed two fingers into you with ease. “My boys trained you well. Are you always this needy?” 

You knew better than to answer. His fingers felt around until he hit a spot that made you clench. The bastard chuckled. He loosened his hold of the fire on your neck long enough to shove his cock into you without warning. You moaned involuntarily. 

“Been a long time since I had such a tight cunt.” He thrusted and jolted you forward. He let out a deep groan and did it again. “Maybe you are worth keeping.” 

Beron fucked you in long hard strokes, dragging himself out slowly only to thrust into you quick and hard. The chain on your neck tightened, making you dizzy. You tried to focus, to figure out what he wanted from you. Did he want you to come? Did he want you to be silent or vocal? Vocal seemed to be what he wanted. Each time you gasped and whined when he tugged the chain made him grip your waist harder. 

And it felt good. 

Each stroke hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. It didn’t help that each thrust rubbed you against the arm of the chair, stimulating you from the outside. And with the pressure from the chain on your throat- it was hard not to let go. 

“You like this don’t you,” he whispered. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” you gasped. 

His fingers dug into your thigh.“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, high lord.”

“Good girl.” You whined and he groaned. “I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to walk out with my seed in your cunt. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you struggled to get out, “High Lord.” 

He finally loosened the chain of fire on your neck and held you by the ones on your wrists. He cursed and came. You could feel the heat of him coat the inside of you. Then unexpectedly, he pulled you up flush against him. 

“Come for me.” He whispered in your ear. “Come for your high lord.” 

A command your body couldn’t disobey. You moaned loudly, pulsing around him, pleasurable warmth rolling through your body. It felt so good you forgot for a moment who had you in his grasp. Then the ropes vanished and he let go. You fell face first panting into the chair cushion. He stepped back, pulling out and leaving his cum dripping out of you. 

“Clean up your mess.” 

You pushed yourself up, turning to see him watching you intensely. Your eyes dropped to his softening cock. It was muscle memory at that point. You got on your knees and licked him clean. You looked up at him the whole time, watching to see if he approved. He reminded you of Asher, the way his face held no emotion or tell at what he was thinking. Then he shoved you away. 

“You can stay. Don’t make me have to call for you again, understand?” He tucked himself back into his trousers. 

“Yes High Lord.” 

“Out.” 

You scrambled to your feet, his sticky mess dripping down your thighs like he promised. It was by the grace of The Mother no one was in the hall as you made your way to your chambers. Beca and Rhian were missing when you entered- another blessing. You were shaking by the time you drew a bath and got into the water. You washed away the smell of him and tried desperately to not think about what would have happened if you had not pleased him. 

[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.

[bibiwrld]

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧.—𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 “𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧” 𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐜!

Contains: Eventual smut, Alucard yearning for a companion, slightly naive oc, romance, slow burn.

part 1

Year: 1478

“Fill me up, Margot!” The bearded man slammed his jug on the counter.

With a gentleness in her voice and a calm smile, she filled his jug. “Sure thing.”

The bar was rather lively on a night like this, which gave Margot a little anxiety, being that she was a bit introverted and shy.

But she needed this job, she needed the money.

“Blood rained from the sky and the Devil warned us!” A man shouted drunkenly.

She often heard stories of Dracula, his son, Alucard, a sorceress and a Belmont from many locals. Dracula almost committed genocide starting right here in Wallachia, after the church murdered his beloved wife, then celebrated it.

How cruel.

Sighing deeply at the horrible thought, Margot wiped the bar table. With each movement, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was being studied.

Looking around the crowded bar, she noticed someone in a black cloak, looking in her direction.

Eyes of amber, almost golden, were locked on her.

She knew all the regulars and she’s never seen this cloaked man before.

Quickly tearing her eyes away in fear, she continued wiping tables.

“What do you think, Margot?” Robin, another barmaid asked.

Margot turned. “H-huh?”

“About what Dracula did, would you have supported him during that time?” A hand on her hip.

“I-I rather not s-say.” She stuttered, avoiding conversation.

With a smirk, Robin shouted, getting the attention of the entire bar. “Margot supports Dracula!”

Margot’s eyes almost flew out of their sockets at the sudden claim. Judgmental eyes piercing through her, waiting for an explanation.

“Th-that’s not what I said!” She’s never raised her voice this high before. Her heart raced, trying to defend herself. “I-I just think Dracula had every right to be heartbroken…from the lo-loss of his true love..who was pro-proven to be innocent of any forms of-of witchcraft..after she was executed.”

She scanned the bar, faces contorting into understanding, but she locked eyes with those golden orbs again, that she couldn’t seem to read. Nervously she continued, averting her gaze. “I think..a-anyone would do something a little..crazy for the on-ones they love, but Dracula was wrong for harming innocent people.”

The crowd cheered at her words, causing her to breathe out in relief, she hated being put on the spot like that.

Robin rolled her eyes, forcing a drink in Margot’s hands. “Cloak guy wants a drink.”

Hesitantly look in the direction, she nodded with a dry reply. “O-okay.”

Making her way to him was as nerve wracking as being right in front of him. Resting the large jug of beer on the table, with a trembling hand, Margot avoided eye contact with the stranger. “Here’s your drink, sir.”

“Thank you.” His voice was soft, smooth like a new born lamb and very curt.

With a small bow, she turned on her heel to escape the scary stranger.

“Have you ever been to Dracula’s castle?” This question was quite odd.

“N–”

“Look at me, young lady.” His voice remained soft, but his command was strong.

Lifting her head submissively, her eyes fell upon his golden ones, but most of his face was still hidden beneath the dark cloak he sported with a black mask that covered his nose to his mouth. But yet still he held a beauty. Lush lashes…and blonde like those of a gorgeous maiden.

“No sir, I-I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

Margot grew weak at all these questions. “Um..it’s just something I haven’t thought of..doing. B-besides….Lord Alucard, Son of Dracula is the- the Guardian of the castle now, I don’t think he we-welcomes visitors.”

“Fair enough.” He kept his words short. “I like how you defend yourself and others honor, it’s..brave.”

If it weren’t for her dark complexion, he would’ve seen the warm tint of pink across her cheeks.

“Th-thank you, sir.” She quickly glanced between his eyes and the wooden bar floor.

He never once tore his eyes from Margot. Eyes studied her like a book he was interested in. “Adrian. Call me..Adrian.”

“Margot.”

“Margot. Pearl.” He muttered. “ A pearl of beauty.”

Her lips parted at his words, stunned. “I–”

Gently cutting her off. “I’m not much of a drinker, do you have..other options..?”

“Y-yes, freshly squeezed lemonade.”

“I’ll take that.”

Finally nodding, she picked up his beer and swiftly moved.

“What are you doing with that beer, Margot?” Peter, the owner of the bar asked.

“The gentleman wearing a cloak wanted a lemonade instead.” She replied in her soft voice, pouring the lemonade.

“In a cloak? I don’t see anyone.”

Turning around with the glass, her brows furrowed.

The cloaked gentleman..was gone.

[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.”

[silverjurors]

O'Khasian Culture in my rewrite

Worship, Saints, and Religion

Irene and Eamonn are the most worshipped and prominent figures of the church, although Eamonn is almost never worshipped on his own, always being seen as the Shield of Irene

Irene is commonly depicted with very long hair, so many religious figures and devotees grow their hair as long as possible

Cutting your hair from very long to very short is seen as a MASSIVE sign of disgrace and dishonor, no matter the gender. However, this usually applies more to nobility, as common folk can't grow out their hair too long or else it interferes with their jobs and day-to-day lives

The Church of the Divine has multiple prominent Saints, including but not limited to: Xavier, Dæli, Zianna (NOT the Canon Zianna, she's named after her!), Rianne, and Julien

O'Khasis is a deeply religious place, if you don't believe in Lady Irene or the other Divine Warriors, you're forced to convert, sometimes by peer pressure and other times through outright force

The primary religious text in The Church of the Divine is named the Holy Diary, it has 39 official 'books' in it, although others used to exist and are usually hidden by the Church

The other Divine Warriors are seen as extentions of Irene, and not as 'valid' of a God to worship

Male priests of Irene are often encouraged to use beauty products and dress more femininely to imitate the Goddess

They also tend to dye their hair black, if they don't have naturally dark hair

Minor religious scriptures indicate that you ought to cover your face in some way if you are a devotee, not many did it, however it became a more common practice after Zane became the High Priest of O'Khasis

Relationships and Marriage

Marriage has various different laws around it, however they are each applicable based on the Vows made by the couple

The most common wedding vows in O'Khasis are the Vows of Protection, which are basically the default used there, although others can be used on request

The Vows of the Wanderer allow and encourage polygamy, the others don't

The Vows of the Protector allow you to maim or possibly even kill someone if they have attempted to violate the sanctity of your marriage, as do the Vows of the Fury, but both under different circumstances

In marriages under the Vows of the Protector, domestic abuse is punishable by death, as it is seen as a grevious offense to both Eamonn and Lady Irene

The second most common set of Vows in O'Khasis are the Vows of the Keeper - these are the Vows that the Lord Garte and his Wife Zianna took, so they became popular in a short span of time

The Vows of the Keeper emphasize loyalty to your spouse, and to your family, but they also emphasize a duty to fulfill your work and your purpose in life

The Vows of the Destroyer are not seen as valid marriage Vows in O'Khasis, and no priest in the city is permitted to preform them, although the High Priest gets to learn them

In O'Khasis, once a man gets married, he is expected to wear his hair each day in 'wedding braids' until he either dies or if the marriage becomes void.

Wedding braids vary based on the relationship, some are very simple and easy, others are much more elaborate and take a long time to do, including wearing decorations in them.

Brides in O'Khasis usually wear blue on their wedding day, the grooms wear white or teal

Acceptable colors to wear at an O'Khasian wedding include purple, gold, and green. Red is a huge no, as it's seen as a sign the marriage is cursed and will not last. Wearing red to someone else's wedding is seen as you trying to bring the couple misfortune

[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.

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