#Learning Math with Alice

[presswoodterryryan]

🎉 Alice's Ultimate Guide to Mastering (and Maybe Even Loving) Long Division! 🎉

By Alice Hey everyone! It’s me, Alice, your favorite adventurer, snack enthusiast, and math-avoider turned math-explorer! 😱 Big Sister Ariel has written the most amazing and smartest paper EVER about long division, and guess what? I actually understand it! (Shh… don’t tell her I said that! 😆) You wouldn’t believe how exciting it was to dive into numbers and see how everything fit together. Long…

[bumblesimagines]

The Dragon of Runestone

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has kept to Runestone with his grandsire in preparation for taking the seat of House Royce but when his uncle passes and his cousin is usurped, he makes the decision to fly to her aid and unite with his family.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, Targcest/Incest (Half Sister-Half Brother/Cousins/Stepbrothers), mention of Daemon's two dead wives, mention of Luke's death, age gap Jace and Baela are around 18/19 while (Y/N) is in early to mid twenties (don't ask me his exact age I didn't want to do the math), Daemon is a questionable father but what else is new, drinking, Jace is a SIMP, sexual/suggestive content

I hate how intricate Rhaenyra/Alicent/Helaenas hairstyles are in comparison to Rhaena and Baela who get the simplest of styles. I also had more written but it was going into full smut territory 💀

~~~

Luke was dead.

Despite the days and weeks that passed, Jace hadn't yet wrapped his head around it. His partner in crime, his shadow, his closest friend, his little brother... dead. Slaughtered mercilessly by their kinslayer of an uncle. His mother had been clear in her instructions when she agreed to send them away, fully and completely adamant that they not engage with anyone. Luke followed his mother's orders diligently and the Greens took him without remorse. 

The cold that'd washed over him when he received news of it, when he read the letter sent to him by his stepfather and felt the realization settled in... the cold of the North had nothing against it. Nothing against the unsettling iciness that swept through his veins or the way his heart squeezed and dropped to the pits of his stomach. Lord Cregan Stark's attempts at comfort had gone in one ear and out the other during the descent down from the Wall. 

He prayed it'd been a mistake, that Luke's name had been miswritten, and Daemon had meant another Velaryon. Convincing himself of such a thing allowed him to fly back to Dragonstone, allowed him to dream that the moment he got there, he'd see his brother and Arrax waiting for him; that they'd laugh about the misunderstanding and settle down together to talk about Storm's End and the North while the sun set over the horizon. But all he received when he climbed off Vermax were pitiful, sorrowful looks from the servants and guards of Dragonstone. 

Luke was dead... and he was partly to blame for his death. 

It'd seemed like a good idea at the time, for him and his brother to mount their dragons to ensure those who'd bent the knee when his mother had been named heir planned on keeping their oath. It'd seemed simple enough, as well, to fly out to meet and dine with nobles who'd trip over themselves to please two princelings. But Aemond had beaten Luke to Storm's End, and chosen to spill the first blood of war over silly childhood pranks. 

Jace attempted to distract himself through various means such as training twice as hard and attending his mother's council meetings; all in hopes of swallowing his guilt and grief into the back of his mind. He shed enough tears, sobbed enough into the shoulder of his mother, and told his pains to Baela. It was time to focus on avenging his brother, on claiming back the throne usurped by his uncle and the wicked Hightowers. Distracting himself, as he quickly grew to learn, was easier when his stepbrother lingered around and took his place at the table. Visenya born again, they called him. The Dragon of Runestone. 

Jace enjoyed watching him during meetings, observing and taking note of how he conducted himself. (Y/N) cut down power-seeking nobles with ease, his violet eyes piercing into those who dared interrupt or speak over Rhaenyra. It was comforting despite the blatant indifference he had for his cousin outside of war meetings and discussions. Rhaenyra needed powerful people on her side, powerful men that others feared enough to remain silent on their opinions and desires.

He only had a few years on Jace; born three years before his mother's sudden passing. Jace heard the rumors that Daemon had been insistent the babe wasn't his until (Y/N) was born with those signature silver locks, forcing him back to Runestone to see his firstborn son and admit Targaryen blood flowed through his veins. Rhea refused to allow him to take (Y/N) far from Runestone but her wishes were ignored when she passed, leaving her inheritance to her only child and her estranged husband to do as he pleased.

From what the twins had told Jace, even as a toddler and young boy he'd fussed when tended to by his father's new wife, Lady Laena. Kicking, crying, biting, and shoving; it felt as if the boy knew she'd been a swift replacement for his mother. He'd been developing from a boy to a tween when his half-sisters were born and even then, he ignored them in favor of being with others on Pentos or flying with his dragon, Bantis. 

From a young age, Jace had idolized him; the cooler older boy with an air of indifference and mystery. He simply couldn't resist the allure, and neither did Baela. 

"I think the first time he ever looked at me had been during training," Baela had told him one time, back in Driftmark hours after her mother's funeral. They'd been young children then, and it'd been the first time Jace laid eyes on (Y/N) outside of stories and paintings. He'd been captivated despite the never-fading scowl and snarky attitude. "I picked up a training sword and hit his friend in the leg with it. It was the first time I ever heard him laugh." The glimmer in her eye had been undeniable. 

Focusing on silly little feelings hardly seemed appropriate during a time of war, but it took Jace's mind off the reality around them. Especially when he could rest his arms along the stone railing of a balcony overlooking where knights trained and watch (Y/N) knock men twice his age down onto the floor. His eyes followed each movement of his arms and legs, gaze lingering on the tight grip he had on his sword and thoughts drifting to wonder what it'd feel like to have them pressed on bare skin. 

"You can speak with him, you know." Jace flinched, his body instinctively straightening up and heat bursting across his face as he turned to face his betrothed. Baela smiled at him, teasing and friendly, sliding up to take the spot beside him and releasing a thoughtful sigh at the sight of her older half-brother. (Y/N) slammed his foot into the back of his sparring partner's knee, the blade of his sword pressing against the man's neck. He smirked and it sent a shiver down Jace's spine. 

"I doubt he'd like that," Jace responded, albeit a bit whiny, but he felt comfortable enough around Baela to let go of what was expected of a prince like him. They were to be wed one day, after all. Baela glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a soft laugh escaping her.

It was true, in a way. (Y/N) hardly liked any of his family, apart from those in Runestone. He'd fallen out with Daemon the day his father chose to wed Rhaenyra; an argument so vicious it ended with (Y/N) striking Daemon in the jaw and flying away on Bantis, never to answer any letters from any of them again. King Viserys appeared to have been the only one left he cared enough about to visit, but he'd proven to at least hold some love for them by ensuring Lady Jeyne Arryn kept to her oath without being asked to and flying to Dragonstone to serve on Rhaenyra's council before a letter could be sent to Runestone. 

"He is kind when he wants to be." Jace looked at her sideways. Baela laughed again, the sweet sound carrying with the wind that tousled her silver curls. "It's true, I swear! I've seen it before. He can be kind. He is just... hard to reach. You cannot blame him for being distant, I suppose. It can be hard to have Daemon as a father." 

"It must be." Jace thought back on the rumors surrounding Rhea Royce's death. He winced when the sparring partner tapped out, the knight's nose trickling with blood. The squires and available knights around shrank back when (Y/N) turned toward them. "The only times I've heard them speak has been from arguments heard all around Dragonstone. I hear even Caraxes and Bantis cannot stand to be around each other."

"Father does love him and wants him around but... he has little patience and (Y/N) has never tolerated being yelled at," Baela spoke, her hand flying to grasp his arm as she did and feet turning toward the stairs leading down to the training area. Jace felt himself automatically tense when (Y/N)'s sharp violet eyes turned in their direction. 

Gods, he hated how easily his legs weakened and cheeks flared in (Y/N)'s presence. The others around dipped their heads respectfully, bowing to whom would be their future rulers once the Iron Throne returned to its rightful heir. Jace managed to tear his eyes away from the prince to nod to those around, motioning for them to leave with another nod. They quickly did, practically scrambling away before (Y/N) could pluck one and toss them around. 

"Brother," Baela greeted, her hand leaving Jace's arm to lace her fingers together before her. (Y/N) gave a hum of acknowledgment, the tip of his sword digging into the mushy ground when he leaned into it. His hair had long gone askew from the constant movement but Jace thought it suited him perfectly. "Perhaps it'd be better if you stopped beating up our knights."

"They're knights." (Y/N) drawled. "They ought to get used to it before facing real battle. If they cannot do well in training, they'll die on the field. The sheep of the Vale are tougher than some of the fools here." 

"If you feel their performances are inadequate then feel free to train them." Jace felt more than thankful to have Baela at his side, otherwise he would've stuttered through his sentences harder than a babe learning to speak. (Y/N) regarded him with little emotion. "We deserve to have the best of the best protecting us and our claim, after all."

"Whatever you say, Jacaerys." (Y/N) raised his sword and slipped it back into its sheath, unaware of the disappointment coursing through his stepbrother's veins. Baela glanced between them, her fingers tightening around each other and teeth catching her bottom lip. She stepped forward, blocking his path before he could depart. 

"Why don't we catch up, Brother? It has been much time since we've spoken. You must have many stories to tell of the Vale, do you not?" Baela, ever the quick thinker, said as she looped her arm around (Y/N) and sent a look Jace's way. The brunette nodded along with her words, a prick of hope sparking in his chest. 

The older prince's eyes slowly slid between the two, a single brow lifting for a moment before he gave a curt nod. "I suppose I have time to spare. It'll be over wine, however. I could use a drink or two." 

"Over wine." Jace agreed and found himself unable to resist a giddy grin from spreading across his face. 

The buzz of wine coursing through his veins hardly helped with the heat flowing through his body. Conversation had surprisingly started easily with Baela asking questions about the Vale and Runestone, perhaps the taste of Dornish wine having some to do with (Y/N)'s relaxed, semi-open composure. Jace absentmindedly listened to his betrothed and stepbrother speak, his hand swirling the cup of deep red wine that he assumed to be some sort of Dornish wine. It tasted sweet, addictively so. 

His eyes flitted around the bedchambers given to (Y/N), mostly lingering on the bed Jace noted to be the perfect size to fit three or more people. His thumb pressed into the designs of the goblet in hand, his mind racing with his vivid imagination.

He'd hardly done anything with Baela apart from holding her hand or embracing her, but he oft' thought of how their life as a married couple would go. He'd never been with any else before, man or woman, unlike many of the men around him. He was a prince, for Gods sake. He was meant to be the very definition of a gentleman... although that certainly never stopped the thoughts from conjuring late at night. 

His teeth caught his bottom lip and tore a bit of skin off, the heat rushing to his stomach making his grip tighten on the goblet. Baela and (Y/N) looked dazzling in the warm glow of the candlelight and moonlight seeping in through the balcony. Baela's brown skin looked warmer, dewier, so much so that Jace wanted to run his hands over every inch of her. He loved when she released her hair so it tumbled down her shoulders and framed her face with those perfect curls. Her purple eyes glimmered with each flicker of the candles, and her full lips looked utterly enticing. 

(Y/N) looked similarly, his hair pushed back from running his fingers through it multiple times and his features softened into a look of contentment. He'd rid himself of his overshirt when they entered his room, leaving him in an undershirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Jace's gaze trailed over his arms, strong enough to no doubt lift him from the ground. He slowly moved his gaze upward, studying each detail of his body until he focused on his face. He startled when the two made eye contact and (Y/N)'s lips curled upward into a smirk that reeked of trouble.

"Jacaerys," (Y/N) called, dragging his propped-up feet off the table and planting them firmly on the floor. Jace swallowed thickly, contemplating taking another swing of his wine. Baela delicately sipped on the last of her wine and reached for the pitcher, pouring herself the last of its contents. "Have you ever gone to bed with someone before? Or have you been keeping your hands to yourself 'til marriage?"

Baela grew still, her eyes widening at the swift change in topic from something innocent to speaking of sex. Jace flushed, heat spreading across his face and neck, his ears growing unbelievably hot. She was a lady. Hardly the sort of subject two men would speak of so carelessly. Sex was only spoken of with certain people: parents, septas, maesters, and partners. Sure, he'd heard plenty of filth spew from Aegon's mouth, but it hardly beat hearing it from (Y/N) in front of Baela.

"I-" Jace cut himself off with another swallow, his adams apple bobbing and tongue unable to form words. He pressed his lips together, his free hand curling against his thigh and eyes flickering wildly between Baela and (Y/N). "I-I have not. I... I was taught not to bring ruin onto a lady by... such acts."

"Ah, you sound like a prude." (Y/N) laughed lightly and set his goblet on the table, the smirk hanging onto his lips. "I'm certain your parents would hardly fault you for... indulging with one another. You've thought about it, haven't you, Jacaerys? She's your bride-to-be, after all." 

Jace's face felt as if a dragon had blown on it. "I-"

"What about you, Brother?" Baela cut in, her composure drastically more calm and collected than Jace's but he noted the way her thighs pressed together beneath the skirt of her dress. (Y/N) tore his amused stare away from Jace and onto his half-sister, his finger running circles over the rim of his goblet. "Have you... been with anyone before?"

"'Course I have." He gave a light scoff and envy flooded Jace's stomach. "Maids, ladies, whores, knights, lordlings. I'm not a child nor saving myself for whichever noble lady ends up my wife. There's little to do in the Vale apart from typical lord things; hunting, riding, and those sorts of things get boring after a while." 

Maids, ladies, whores, knights, and lordlings.

Women and men.

Jace's gaze darted over to Baela, meeting her wide-eyed stare as the two came to a similar realization, and then, the same idea; a spark ignited in her eyes and a light flickered on in his head. Gods, was he glad they were betrothed. They were so similar in so many ways, he certainly couldn't wait to rule side by side with her. Jace knew coming to an agreement with her would hardly ever be a hassle. 

"Show us, then," Jace said, the wine dancing in his body only filling him with confidence and boldness. (Y/N)'s head tilted to the side in question, and for a moment it was easy to forget he was the child of a brutal prince. "You have much experience under your belt, do you not? Why not teach us how to properly bed one another?" 

"I'm certain you know where everything ought to go, Jacaerys." 

"Obviously," The heat returned to his face. "But... I've never kissed anyone nor touched anyone. You have, however."

Jace received a hum in response and (Y/N)'s head tilted back in thought, seemingly contemplating the idea. Jace felt nerves beginning to bubble up in his stomach, anxious over what the response would be. It'd be one thing to finally have one of his dreams fulfilled, another to have to face him the following days with a sober mind and a dejected heart. Baela met his eyes again, giving him a subtle nod of encouragement. He could still backtrack, still laugh it off-

Fingers grasped the side of his throat, coarse fingertips dipping into the hairs on the nape of his neck and digging into his skin. He only had a brief moment to look back at the older prince before lips pressed against his own, a sharp shiver darting down his spine and body tensing. (Y/N)'s lips felt soft against his own but Jace hardly knew what to do apart from tentatively parting them. He shuddered when (Y/N)'s tongue invaded his mouth, his hand nearly dropping the goblet as he clumsily searched for the table in order to set it down. Once both hands were free, he pressed them against (Y/N)'s shoulders and began meekly mimicking him. 

When they pulled back, Jace sighed at the string of saliva connecting them before (Y/N) wiped his mouth. He grinned at him, a breathy and amused chuckle leaving him at the dazed sight of Jace.

Be it the wine or simply the giddy feeling constricting his heart, Jace could barely think straight, his thoughts only focusing when (Y/N) patted his thigh, his attention directed onto Baela. She rose from her seat and shuffled around the table, carefully sitting sideways on her half-brother's lap. Jace's breeches felt excruciatingly tight, the feeling only growing as he watched the two lock lips. 

Baela lifted her hand to cup (Y/N)'s cheek, the other tightly curling around the sleeve of his shirt. (Y/N) kept his palm pressed to her back while his other hand danced downward until it reached the skirt of her black and red dress, his fingers curling and slowly dragging the fabric upwards to reveal her calf and then her lower thigh. Jace squirmed in his seat, battling with urges threatening to take over his mind; a battle he began slowly losing as he watched (Y/N)'s fingers dig into the flesh of her thigh.

Suddenly, (Y/N) stood and took Baela along with him, setting her down on the edge of the table and pulling away to grab his forgotten cup and blindly toss it aside. It clattered with the stone floor, the wine spilling and darkening the shade of gray. Effortlessly, (Y/N)'s fingers undid the knotted laces of the back of Baela's dress, his legs pushing hers apart and causing the skirt to ride up further. Jace watched, eyes bouncing around their bodies until he looked at (Y/N)'s face pleadingly. 

"Put what you learned to practice, Jacaerys." 

With those words, Jace shot up from his seat, nearly knocking the chair back from the sheer speed and force. Baela's chest lightly heaved with pants, her half-lidded eyes meeting Jace's when he stood at her side. He leaned in and despite the need blazing in his lower belly, Jace kissed her gently, sweetly, moving slowly and taking his time. Her lips felt soft and plush, and they parted easily. It was clumsy but endearing, and it made his heart swell. 

"Shit," Jace cursed, reeling back from Baela when his pants loosened and a hand dipping beneath his breeches. (Y/N) chuckled breathily against Baela's neck before latching his lips onto her and searching around until he found a spot that made her breath hitch and hands fly to grab the collar of his shirt. Jace's legs threatened to give out from under him when (Y/N) lightly squeezed him, forcing him to brace himself against the table and drop his forehead down onto Baela's shoulder. 

"Sensitive, the both of you." (Y/N)'s muffled voice said, and Jace caught the way he dragged his teeth along Baela's neck, enticing a shudder and soft whine out of her before he lightly dug his teeth where her shoulder and neck met. Jace barely had a chance to respond before letting out a strangled groan at the feeling of (Y/N) slowly stroking him, his hips bucking and knees trembling with each slow drag of his hand. 

Jace whined suddenly when (Y/N) retracted his hand, a sound that made his neck flush in embarrassment and lips form a disappointed scowl directed at the older prince. (Y/N) rolled his eyes at him, fingers hooking along Jace's pants and breeches to swiftly tug them down to his thighs. The cold air from the cool breeze flowing in through the balcony made him shiver, goosebumps rising along his skin. His first instinct was to tug his pants back up and hide himself from their prying eyes but he pushed the urge down.

"Take it off." (Y/N) told him, or rather ordered him, the tone making Jace woozy with the desire to fulfill his every command. He clumsily did as told, nearly stumbling over his jittery legs as he undressed fully despite the cold nipping at his exposed skin. (Y/N) eyed him over and then grinned again, his hand roughly grabbing Jace by the hip and tugging him closer to slam their lips together. When he drew back, he nodded over to the bed and Jace's features brightened, eagerly moving toward the bed.

(Y/N) carefully tugged Baela's dress down her shoulders, dragging the sleeves down past her elbows and freeing her arms. She shivered at the cold first and then wrapped her arm around her chest, her skin feeling as if the sun were glaring directly down on her. (Y/N) snorted softly, his eyes surprisingly soft as he peeled her arm away from her chest, leaving butterflies fluttering around her stomach. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her, his hand pulling and tugging at her dress until it fell down her thighs and partly over Jace's scattered clothes. 

His arm dropped so he could lift her by her thighs, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and head burying into his neck as they moved toward the bed where Jace awaited them. (Y/N) lowered her down on the bed, the covers feeling soft and silky against her skin. Jace's chin hooked over her shoulder, his hand cupping her jaw before lowering to explore her neck and shoulders, trailing down her arm and moving onto her hip. 

"You're beautiful." He murmured, and any tension in her body disappeared. She smiled and kissed him, already addicted to mushing their lips together no matter how clumsy or messy. Jace pulled back, brushing his lips over her cheek before swooping down to peck her shoulder, his long brown curls tickling her jaw. 

"I think..." Baela spoke softly, head turning toward the older prince still standing and still clothed. "Someone has far too many layers on." 

"I do not recall saying I'd bed either of you." (Y/N) spoke, attention shifting downward when Jace pushed the bottom of his shirt out from his pants to expose the skin beneath. Despite his words, he did little to stop the brunette from undoing his belt nor did he protest when Baela tucked her knees underneath herself and rose to unbutton his shirt. 

"You said you'd teach us," Jace reminded him, his lips pressing against (Y/N)'s happy trail and hands eagerly mimicking what the older prince had done to him moments prior; swiftly undressing him and leaning back to look him over, the sight alone making the brunette's mouth water. "We have to practice on someone, do we not?"

The corner of (Y/N)'s lips twitched upward. "I suppose."

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Ship Of Dreams 🚢 | Twilight Imagine

Set during the events between New Moon and Eclipse & after Breading Dawn Part 2

Twilight Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Cullen!reader (female), Bella Swan-Cullen (platonic), Edward Cullen (adoptive ‘twin’ brother), the Cullen family (platonic/adoptive family), family OC!s, Alex Mason!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: major angst, smoking, details of historical event disaster, profanity, descriptions of stalking and death | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 9.4k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Bella Swan always wondered what the story was of her vampire boyfriend’s so called ‘twin’ sister. Quiet and reserved, she had a mysterious aura to her, and what many would describe as a lady lost in time. Though she appeared no older than the age of 17, Y/n Cullen had eyes that saw a multitude of lives. Though in April 2006, the anniversary of a fateful night, finally reveals the truth behind the ‘youngest’ Cullen’s history with the Ship of Dreams.

Note: I had this Twilight x Titanic work in the making for two years 💀😭 back when I visited the Titanic Museum in 2023! I had done the TGM x Titanic AU and immediately started working on this but then, as usual, I got hyperfixated on other things and pushed this to the back burner...but anyway hope y'all like this! ❤️ also I cried writing the hospital scene. I mean I literally had to pause and gather myself at times while writing it because I was making myself so sad.

———————————

April 2006

In the year since becoming involved with Edward Cullen and learning of the secret he and his family share, Bella had yet to uncover the story of his ‘twin’ by name and nature, Y/n.

Calling them twins was a far reach. Sure they had the same golden eyes and inhumanly beautiful physique, but that was it. Unlike Rosalie and Jasper who were blonde and could easily pass as twin siblings, Y/n and Edward appeared nothing alike save for the tiny detail they shared the same birthday of June 20th and were both turned at the age of 17. But whereas Edward was born in the year 1901, Y/n’s was 1895–the same year Esme was born. 

Bella only learned this by doing the math, after Edward let it slip Y/n was technically six years older than him. 

Like Alice and Jasper, Y/n had not been turned by Carlisle but, to Bella’s surprise, was the first to join his coven. Well before Edward came into the picture. When asked about this, following Edward’s explanation of Carlisle’s origin to her the night she visited his home for the first time, Edward plainly stated with a look she couldn’t decipher, “You’d have to ask her, it’s not my story to tell.”

But Bella never could bring herself to ask. Y/n’s exterior was as cold as Rosalie’s. Guarded and reserved. Quiet to the point she hardly added input during times the Cullen’s faced conflict. Always glued to a corner, hidden from the shadows. One glare was enough to send goosebumps along Bella’s arm. Understanding it’d be better to either not know Y/n’s story all together or silently hope one of the Cullen’s would tell her. Since it was obvious the vampire was going to keep her secrets to herself. 

Well….she was hoping to. 

“We can’t watch it here,” Edward’s voice was serious. More serious than ever, causing confusion to etch Bella’s face, taking the DVD case from Edward with a frown. It was a movie she’d seen a handful of times, a classic and one she thoroughly enjoyed whenever it played on TV. The only reason she was suggesting it now for their weekly movie night was for an assignment her history teacher gave on the historical event it was based on considering the upcoming anniversary was the following week.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a DVD player.”

“I do,” he rolls his eyes, yet still carries the serious strain of his tone “but we can’t watch that here. We’ll go to your place.”

Her frown deepened, a little annoyed with the vampire changing their plans considering she drove all the way out to his. “I don’t understand, Edward….why is it so much of a big deal to watch Titanic here.” 

Lightening fast, Edward held a hand up, freezing the two in their places while Bella watched him turn his head to face the open doorway. Tilting it slightly as though to strain his hearing. When it appeared whatever coast was clear, he let out a breath of relief before facing her again, noting her visible confusion. “I’ll explain everything once we get to your house. I promise just…” he pleads with his eyes, gently taking the DVD once again to tap at the title Titanic with his finger, “don’t mention this when we’re here or in front of my family.”

The entire drive was quiet. Save for the soft remedy of the radio. The music gave Bella the distraction she needed to not say anything about what took place in Edward’s bedroom until they reached her house. All the while she replayed the moment in her head, followed by how eerie the Cullen house became right after the famous ship’s name spilled from her lips.

Titanic.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” She did not hesitate the second they entered, hanging her coat on the hanger and moving past him to set up the DVD player. She heard his sigh, igniting her annoyance, “you promised me an explanation.”

She felt his presence behind her, then a second later Edward kneeled to her level and took the DVD once more.

“You once asked me about Y/n,” he began, eyes lowered to the ground, “What her story was and how she was the first to join Carlisle” Gold met brown, his gaze shifting upward, while holding the disk cover up. “This isn’t just a movie, Bella. Not to her.” Heart pounding, Bella felt the air catch in her throat, realizing his implication. 

It’s her life.

“You’re saying…” She glanced at the cover. The iconic image of Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet as Jack and Rose. The love story that ended in tragedy. Bella’s heart skipped at Edward’s nod.

“She lived it.” The air caught in Bella’s throat as the words left his mouth. “Y/n was on Titanic the night it sank--where she was turned by a vampire who wanted access to her family’s fortune.” 

“Family’s fortune?” Bella was processing multiple things at once. 

She was getting Y/n’s backstory she’d been curious about for over a year. 

The vampire was aboard the famous ship which sank nearly a century prior.

Y/n apparently came from a wealthy family. 

It was a lot to take in. 

Edward placed the disk in the compartment, pressing the button to turn on the tv. “Her family were first-class passengers.” He began to explain, “Her father was the co-owner of the Brooklyn Dodgers and her mother was the daughter of a wealthy banker who happened to be a popular socialite among their class. Y/n was privately educated, and set to study literature at NYU.”

“Wow,” Bella exhaled, taking in the information. The screen had projected the main menu but neither were focused on it. 

Discovering Y/n wanted to pursue literature was no surprise. From the massive book collection in the Cullen’s library which Edward said belonged to her, to the phenomenal school papers Bella had read in their English class during their peer review sessions, she knew Y/n was a gifted writer and storyteller. She made the simplest of words feel powerful. Brought scenes to life in the reader’s mind. 

Then there was the tiny detail that Edward made a comment months back saying Y/n had published several books under pseudonyms.

He won’t admit it, but Bella’s fairly certain Y/n wrote one of the books on their summer reading list. The suspicion formed when she caught him sending his sister a knowing look after the sheet was passed out. When she looked at Y/n, Bella noticed her amused smirk, followed by a chuckle as she winked at her brother. 

“I-I don’t--,” she had trouble putting the words together, flushing red. “I can’t imagine….”

Edward nodded, understanding what she was trying to say. “Talking about our past is hard for all of us. But for Y/n, it doesn’t help that every history class talks about it.” He lifts up the DVD cover, “or that Hollywood continues to make shows and movies.” 

Bella wanted to ask more questions but understood it wasn’t the time. She knew if she wanted more information, she was going to have to gather the courage to ask Y/n herself. A task easier said than done when the vampire had barely warmed up to the human since implanting herself in their lives. 

They settled on the couch and pressed play, but Bella’s attention was far from the film. Her mind drifted to Y/n. Thinking about her as each scene played out to the point Bella started to picture Y/n in Rose’s place. It brought chills to her arms, shuddering as she couldn’t help but wonder what it was like in those final moments as the ship sank. 

When the movie ended, Bella said goodbye to Edward and began her assignment. Again, she was distracted. Feeling off as she searched online for sources about Titanic and watched video clips of survivors. 

Eventually, after contemplating for over an hour, Bella picked up the phone off the receiver and dialed the number. It rang three times before the familiar voice with a slight transatlantic accent spoke through. 

“I’ve been waiting for your call.” 

Bella silently cursed, face and neck turning red as she cleared her throat before replying, “Can you come over? I’d like to talk to you.” 

20 minutes later, Bella and Y/n sat across from each other in her kitchen. Notebook in front of her, cup of juice on the table and pencil in hand while Y/n’s were folded in her lap. To Bella’s surprise, the vampire knew exactly why she had called her, for Alice had seen it that morning and warned Y/n. 

‘So much for easing my way into this,’ Bella thought to herself. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” She nervously said, fiddling with the pencil in her hand. Y/n gave her a soft smile in hopes of easing the poor girl.

“Bella, if I didn’t want to do this I would have said so over the phone.” 

“I know but…” she cringes slightly, more embarrassed with herself than anything. “This is your history. And I feel like I invaded your privacy by making Edward tell me why we couldn’t watch the film at your house.”

“You didn’t make him tell you anything,” Y/n’s words shocked her, Bella tilting her head in confusion. “Edward made a promise, and you were ensuring he lived up to it. I can understand given the way he behaved and made you clueless as to what the issue was. Granted,” Y/n paused, shuffling in her seat, “I would have rather you simply came to me, but I realize my part in why you refrained all these months since you got together.” 

‘Avoiding you like the plague,’ as one would say.

Y/n put her folded hands on the table, nodding to the notebook. “How would you like to start?” 

Bella straightened in her chair, bringing the notebook closer as she opened it to remove the paper listing the assignment. She skimmed over it, brows pinched, “Um, it says I have the option to write an essay on media--documentaries, movies, tv specials--about the event. Research and write a biographical report on a famous passenger. Or….” her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, peering at Y/n over the paper. “Interview a survivor.” 

Y/n hummed, elbows propped on the table to rest her chin on her folded hands. “And which option are you leaning toward?” 

A frown made its way on Bella’s face, shrugging lightly as she placed the sheet back down. “Honestly I’m not sure. I’ve watched the movie and a couple documentaries. Read a memoir from a survivor and searched about a few passengers on the internet.”

“Well my advice,” Y/n mused, shifting her arms down so they were crossed but still leaning on the table. “Options one and two are your best bet. Unfortunately the last remaining survivor, besides myself,” she paused briefly with a strained smile, “lives all the way in England. She’s I believe 94, and was only two months old when she was aboard. Frankly I do not understand why our teacher would have that option on the assignment.” Leaning back in her chair she let out a sigh before giving the girl a knowing look. “But Bella, you and I both know you don’t really need my help on this assignment.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks, making Bella’s pale face turn red as a tomato. Of course Y/n wasn’t going to buy her excuse of helping with homework. And there was no point in denying it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really know how to approach the subject.” 

“You could’ve just asked,” Y/n teased, but waved a hand dismissively and huffed. “Again. I’m to blame for why you didn’t.” Straightening her already perfect posture, Y/n tugged at the sleeve of her turtleneck and got serious. Taking a moment before speaking as though she were preparing herself. “You want to know my story and I’ll tell you, but you have to understand that it is not like how you see in the movies. My experience,” a faint look reached her eyes. “Was very different.”

Bella swallowed thickly, closing her notebook and pushing it away. Giving Y/n her full attention. “I understand.”

“What all did Edward tell you?”

“That you were on the Titanic when it sank. Your family came from wealth, and you were targeted by a vampire who snuck on who wanted access to that.” Bella saw the way Y/n’s breath hitched, stiffening but quickly recovered herself. Making the girl mentally curse herself for possibly overstepping. 

“Okay. That at least gives me some insight on where to begin.” Clearing her throat, Y/n reached into her satchel and removed a silver metal tin. It was in great condition despite evidently being from the 1910s. “Do you mind?” 

The question confused Bella, who didn’t know how to respond until her gaze landed on the now open tin, revealing five pristine cigarettes on either side. “Oh,” her eyes widened in surprise. Not sure how to respond since this was new information to her. Instantly questions popped in her mind. ‘Can vampires even smoke?’ ‘Does anyone else in the Cullens smoke?’ ‘How does that work?’ 

Bella shrugged, “my dad smokes cigars in the living room at times. And my step-dad is a smoker so I don’t mind, help yourself. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Y/n plucked one from the tin, placing it between her lips before looking in her bag again to fish for her lighter. “You know, it pleases me that there are still some cigarettes from my time available. These are Camels,” she gestured at them with one hand while the other pulled out the lighter. It matched the tin. Silver, vintage, and in pristine condition. “I preferred Fatima’s back then, but these will have to do. I hate Malboro’s,” her thumb flicked the lighter open, the flame igniting. 

“Never tried them,” Bella commented with a small smile. Frankly she was quite stunned with how Y/n was speaking to her as though they had been friends for decades. Just telling her the favorite cigarettes she used to smoke gave a little insight into her past. 

Bella pictured the young woman on the terrace of a New York cafe, cigarette in hand with a martini in the other while gossiping to her friends of the latest scandals within their socialite circle. Pearls around her neck, diamonds on her ears. Standing in the powder room with said friends to reapply her rough lipstick and adjust whatever pillbox hat she chose to wear that day. 

Thinking of what Y/n’s life might have been before becoming a vampire saddened Bella. The possibilities, the opportunities. Would she have married and have children? Would she have gone on to do great things? 

“It doesn’t do anything to me, obviously.” Y/n explained, bringing the flame to the filter. The glow of it made her golden eyes brighten in color. Once lit, she flicked the lighter off and tossed it and the tin back into her satchel. Bella stared at Y/n with fascination as she inhaled deeply before tilting her head back to blow out a thick cloud of smoke. “But it makes me feel….human. I used to do it so much that having one in my hand became second nature. It was common for the times. Plus the taste of it reminds me of bitter coffee,” That distant look in her eyes returned, but was then replaced by annoyance, “Carlisle hates it--as does Esme but they tolerate it so long I do it on the terrace. Emmett and Rosalie will indulge me by partaking to get under their skin,” a light chuckle leaves her lips, taking another drag. “The others say nothing. As I said, it doesn’t affect us.”

Bella laughed under breath, “Honestly I can’t see Edward smoking.” Picturing it felt foreign, and Bella wondered if he had before turning. 

Y/n laughed with her. “I’ve tried tempting him, but he never breaks. Still tries to use the excuse that it is a bad habit.” Y/n scoffs, “believe me, I know. He just hates the smell of it--enhanced senses to blame for that.” Blowing smoke out, Y/n finished with, “Alright, enough of my bad habit.”

Y/n began to take Bella back to April 10th, 1912. To the day she and her family boarded Titanic to set sail to New York from Southampton, England. “Before they were the Los Angeles Dodgers, they were the Brooklyn Dodgers. And before that, they were the Brooklyn Superbas. My father co-founded and owned the team in 1883 as the Brooklyn Grays prior to all the name changes and eventual move. His father,” she took out a small antique ashtray from the satchel, tapping off the ash from the filter. “had accumulated wealth after hitting big during the Gold Rush. My father then used his part of the inheritance to go into business with Charles Byrne, Joseph Doyle, and Ferdinand Abell.”

Now it made sense for Bella why whenever the Cullen’s played baseball Y/n sported Dodger merchandise and would find her watching the team play on T.V during the season. She also was a fan of the Brooklyn Mets, but not as enthusiastic as she was with the Dodgers. Not to mention the intense rivalry with Edward for his love of the Chicago Cubs. 

“Now you know how my family’s fortune came to be,” Y/n waved the smoke she released away, “and as you can imagine, he was friends with some very rich, influential people in New York. The whole reason we were in England to begin with was to attend the wedding of one of those people. As for Titanic,” she swallowed the imaginary bile in her throat. “He wanted to have the ability to tell everyone that he and his family were amongst the ship's first passengers. To brag or whatever--I don’t really know. But it happened that the wedding took place around the time she was set to set sail to New York. Extending our trip to last three weeks instead of the two we planned. All because he managed to snag the tickets by talking to the right people at the right time…..”

“I do not understand why we couldn’t have left on the Lusitania last week,” Y/n complained as the car neared the boarding docks. Trying to peer out the window but was annoyed by the crowd of people taking up every inch of the pavements, making their journey last longer than planned. “We’ve taken the liner twice now--surely it would have been up to satisfaction. We’ve had no trouble traveling on it--why go through the hassle of staying a whole week longer just to be on this ship, father?”

Not looking up from the newspaper in his hands, Y/n’s father sighed and shook his head. Irritated by her complaining as she had yet to stop since he told her the news. “Because, daughter, this is no ordinary ship. The White Star Line has spent years crafting the perfect vessel for the sea and we are in an extraordinary position to be able to be amongst the first passengers aboard. How could you not be excited by that?”

Y/n secured her coat tighter around her shoulders, frowning while keeping her gaze on the scene outside. “Forgive me for not being comfortable at boarding a ship that is set to make its first voyage across the Atlantic.” 

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Y/n. There is no need to be dramatic and consume yourself with worry. The White Star Line has assured Titanic passed every safety precaution and is unsinkable.” 

That did nothing to lift her unease, “Is that not what they said about the Tayleur? It sank three days into its maiden voyage?!” Her father grumbled, closing his paper to fold and place in his lap. 

“That was over fifty years ago. Times have changed. Technology has changed.” His hand waved dismissively, “That ship was doomed from the start despite what the papers make of it. Look, it would be foolish of them to not have learned from their mistakes. I’m telling you there is nothing to worry about.”

“But that feeling never left me,” Y/n put out the cigarette, blowing out the last bit of smoke. “Even after meeting the crew and the captain, there was an odd heaviness in my stomach. Telling me that something would happen. No matter what I did to distract myself--whether that be playing cards or chatting with other young girls my age aboard, thinking about my fiancé back in New York….it never left my mind.” 

Bella let out a gasp, eyes widening at the revelation, “Fiancé?” At the vampire’s nod, Bella felt her heartbreak. 

“Alexander Mason,” there was an airiness when Y/n exhaled, reminiscing at the memory of her lost love. “His father was a real estate mogul and big fan of the Dodgers. Our fathers met at a banquet, not long after they were invited to watch a game from our private viewing box and introduced us. Alex was a doll,” Another cigarette was lit, the woman shifting in her chair. “Handsome, intelligent. Beautiful eyes you could get lost in. Had a sharp tongue but a quick wit. I honestly wanted nothing to do with him,” Y/n chuckled at Bella’s gaped expression. “He talked my ear off that night.”

“And that was a bad thing?” Bella giggled.

“No,” Y/n defended, her own smile threatening to peek through. “It’s not a bad thing. It was just….odd. Took me off guard--especially because the conversation was centered around me. Which--,” her finger not holding the cigarette lifted up for emphasis, “most men in the 1900s of that class were not interested in the hobbies and interests of women. They desired a wife who would be a shiny doll to hang off their arm and keep the house in order.” The cigarette went between her lips. 

“I was not like that. I had dreams. Aspirations. I wanted to go to school, become a writer, and maybe see a little of the world before settling down.” The small, albeit sad, smile appeared. “He supported me--encouraged it actually. Then after several dates I was smitten. Alex was the first man to whisk me off my feet and make me believe there were truly good people out there. He was so sweet. So kind. Loving.” If her heart could beat, Y/n was sure it would have died on its own from being broken. “I knew I’d never find another like him. Which is why I said yes to marrying him after four months of courting. Under the condition we’d wait until I completed university--we were seventeen after all and the idea of marrying that young, despite it being common, unnerved me.”

“And he was okay with that?”

“He was. He agreed that it was too soon to get married, but he told me he’d rather refer to me as his fiancée than telling people we were going steady.” It was then Y/n peered down at her left hand. Bella followed her gaze, landing on the dainty diamond ring on the finger reserved for when one commits their life and love for another person until death do them part. Realizing what the ring was, and seeing how she never saw Y/n without it, Bella felt her eyes water. 

“Is that…?”

“Yes.”

“It’s beautiful,” it truly was. Timeless and the type of ring that belonged on display in an antique museum. It suited Y/n.  

“Thank you,” she beamed, lifting her hand up to inspect it. “His words when he proposed was he saw the ring and it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled when I laughed.” Y/n tightened her lips, emotion flooding her. “Little did he know the only time I genuinely laughed was with him. He was the reason for that sparkle.” 

A pregnant pause fell over the two. Y/n shuddering as she blinked away the tears that would never fall. God if there was one thing from her human days she wished she still had, it was the ability to cry. 

“What happened to him? If you don’t mind me asking,” Bella’s tone was gentle, hand nudging slightly forward as if to offer Y/n comfort. 

“He lived a long life,” Y/n resumed smoking, though the sadness never left her tone and her gaze remained on her ring. “I watched over him for many years--even after joining Carlisle. He can attest to the weekends I’d go missing and return with a tortured presence.” The heaviness in her chest heightened, she quickly reverted the story back to Titanic knowing at some point Bella would ask more about her relationship. 

“Anyways, we boarded Titanic the morning of April tenth and I kept to myself most of the time. If I wasn’t in my suite, I read in the lounge or sat on the deck drinking tea. Played cards with wives and daughters in first class. Chatted with the crew whenever I had questions.” Y/n inhaled sharply, eyes turning narrow. “It wasn’t just the ship I was worried about--Twas the main reason for my anxiety, yes, but there was a sense that I was being watched. You know the feeling?”

Bella nodded, heat rising to her pale cheeks as she thought back to the first weeks she lived in Forks and first met Edward. Even when she could not physically see him, the feeling she was being watched hovered over her. Then of course the incident with James, and now with Victoria still out there, Bella kept looking over her shoulder believing she’d catch a glimpse of red hair. “I know it quite well.” 

“Then you know it brings the hairs on the back of your neck up,” Y/n snarls, clutching her fists together. “And it is frustrating because you feel as though you are going crazy scanning your surroundings every second hoping to find the one responsible.” Unclenching she shook her head and took a deep drag of the cigarette. Letting the nicotine, a placebo to her, linger in her system before releasing. “The entire time on that ship I knew I was being watched. On the deck--in the lounge--in the ballroom, God, on my way to the powder room, I felt like a deer being hunted. My father dismissed my concerns, naturally, because I had no evidence of this faceless individual stalking me aboard. My mother, God rest her soul, at least listened and advised me to not wander on my own after nightfall.” 

“I’m assuming this faceless individual is the vampire who…” Bella trailed off nervously, her suspicions confirmed by the firm nod she received. “Who was he?” This time she got a scoff.

“To this day I’m unsure if the name he gave me was in fact his real one. Hours prior to the sinking he introduced himself to me--Called himself Arthur Deveroux. Said he was an investment broker out of London.” The sneer returned on her visage. “And that he was on his way to New York to do business with Rockerfeller. I’d never heard of him, and to this day the name Arthur Deveroux is not on the list of first class passengers aboard Titanic. He was a stowaway,” Y/n explained with a grimace. “Snuck on minutes before the ship departed Southampton and imposed as a member of London’s elite. In reality, Arthur--or whatever his true name was--was a man who’s greatest power was the ability to deceive.”

A chill ran down Bella’s spine. Enough to make her shift in her seat. It wasn’t hard to picture the kind of man Arthur was based on the fury laced in the vampire’s tone. And as Y/n relayed the story of the night she met her creator, Bella felt as though she were there with her. 

“What did you say your name was again?” Y/n’s brows pinched, observing the man with skepticism as she removed her hand from his after he’d taken it to kiss her knuckles. Just before he approached her at the table where she had been retrieving a plate of custard for her mother, that inkling of being watched had pooled in her stomach. Sending off alarm bells when she turned to find a beautiful man appearing not much older than her with the most unusual eye color. 

Red. Deep like the rouge lipstick she wore. The sight of them made her take a cautious step back. 

“Arthur Deveroux, madam.” Never had she heard a voice like him. Smooth and echoey. Unique and the type one would hear singing on the radio. Or beckoning prey out to sea. 

“Arthur,” Y/n repeated, scanning his physique which was donned in a crisp suit. Matching the men around them present for dinner. “You’re from England I assume? What brings you to New York?”

“Business. My company hopes to collaborate with Mr. Rockerfeller.”

“Fascinating,” she wasn’t really. Many men attempted to get their hooks into the millionaire and turned up short. Y/n thanked the waiter handing her a martini, taking a sip while eyeing Arthur, who declined the waiter’s offer of making him a drink. “How come I have not seen you before tonight, Mr. Deveroux? Are you not one to mingle?”

His chuckle sounded like wind chimes. “I’m afraid not. I tend to stick to the walls during these gatherings and observe. The people here are far too ostentatious for my liking.” If he’d been anyone else Y/n would laugh. Agreeing with the statement. But something about Arthur screamed that he was hiding something.

“Well, do enjoy yourself these last days Mr. Deveroux.” She began to excuse herself, sneaking a glance to her table to find her parents watching the scene. “I hope New York is up to your standards.” 

The smirk that appeared sent goosebumps along Y/n’s arm. And not the good kind she’d get when Alex looked at her. Everything about the expression was eerie. As though Arthur was calculating an idea--and Y/n was at the center of it.

“I believe you might be right, Y/n. I think New York is going to be everything I envisioned.” Taking her hand once more, Arthur’s smirk never left as he felt her shudder at the touch. Cold lips pressing to her knuckles. “Perhaps we’ll see each other there.” Before she had the chance to reply, Arthur backed away slowly then turned on his heel. Striding toward the exit amongst a sea of guests, and Y/n let out the sigh of relief she’d been holding. 

When he disappeared from her view, Y/n realized she’d never given him her name.

As it came time to recall the final minutes of her humanity, Y/n was on her fourth cigarette and the golden color of her eyes had dimmed. Bella’s heart skipped and she swore to herself knowing Y/n heard it. The last thing she wanted was to dishearten the young woman further. 

“I’d got separated from my parents during the initial chaos,” her voice was barely over a murmur. Gaze fixated on the surface of the table. “Titanic had just struck the iceberg and the impact woke me up. My parents went to the deck for information and I was trying to find them when I was suddenly pulled into a storage closet by a force so strong I remember it knocking me off my feet. Dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t see and the grip on me prevented me from moving--I let out a scream but then a hand covered my mouth causing me to freeze. That’s when I heard his voice.”

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/n.” his icy mouth caressed the side of her ear. Y/n whimpered against the rock solid hand holding her still. “I’d hoped to continue our conversation in New York, but it appears this ship will not be arriving. Now I have to improvise, but rest assured….this will only hurt for a little while.” And before Y/n could react, a pinch on her neck turned to a searing, excruciating pain that exploded in every cell in her body as Arthur sank his teeth into her skin. 

Ensuring Y/n L/n was listed among those lost at sea when Titanic greeted the bottom of the Atlantic on the early morning of April 15th, 1912. Her name missing from the list of survivors recovered on the RMS Carpathia. To the world, the beautiful young socialite died along with the thousands Titanic took with her. Never knowing she was reborn into a creature of the night, destined to walk the Earth for eternity as a living reminder of the ship of dreams that was believed to never meet her end. 

“By the time I awoke Titanic was all but a memory. A blur. He kept me in that closet for most of the transformation as the ship took on water. Slowly descending further and further into the icy waters of the Atlantic,” Y/n finished the last of her cigarette, putting the nub out and curling her hands into her elbows. “I heard everything. The screams. The cries. Women and children saying goodbye to their fathers. The violins from the band who refused to stop playing.” The melody filled her ears, bringing Y/n back in time. “I focused on the music. Ironically enough, it brought comfort despite the chaos unfolding and served as a distraction for the torment I was going through. Mentally and physically.”

Bella wiped away a tear with a sniff but she remained quiet.

“When the upper deck flooded, that's when Arthur moved us. Edward might have told you before that when a vampire bites a human, the amount of time it takes for the venom to course through all depends on where they bite them.” Bella nodded slowly, remembering the conversation from when she first went to the Cullen’s home and he told her that Carlisle suffered for days during the transformation because he was bitten on the hand. For Y/n, Arthur bit her neck. Closer to the heart and therefore it would only take hours. 

“I was nearing the end--and he knew that, but it was minutes before the ship would submerge and he did not want us to get stuck. He gathered me up, hauled me over his shoulder and made our escape. To everyone on board scrambling to stay afloat it looked like a man carrying his lover to safety. What they didn’t see, however,” Y/n paused briefly to gather her emotions. “Was Arthur throwing us off the railing on the opposite side and swimming away. For miles and miles in absolute darkness. Until we finally reached the shore.”

Bella pictured a newly turned Y/n dragged from the waters onto the sands of New York. Returning home as planned, but without a beating heart and newfound thirst for blood. Scared. Confused. One minute she’s aboard a sinking ship, the next she’s on land. Life stolen by a man with sinister intentions. Depriving her of the future with Alex she dreamed of. 

“What happened next?” Bella carefully asked. 

Y/n’s expression remained dejected, offering a light shrug. “Arthur kept me hidden for days. Forcing me to feed on innocent humans. The RMS Carpathia would be arriving in New York and he needed to confirm if my parents had survived so he could blackmail me into stealing my inheritance.” Pushing away from the table, Y/n gathered the ashtray and discarded the remains into the trash. Running it under the faucet before wiping it dry with a paper towel.

“What the bastard didn’t anticipate,” she said with a tone Bella couldn’t decipher, but it sent a wave of unease through her. “Was the level of rage I experienced when I finally got a hold of my mind. It’s easy for creators to manipulate newborn vampires, but they have to be precise and hope that the person does not remember what preceded the bite. Unfortunately for Arthur, I remembered everything.” Y/n returned to the table, tossing the ashtray in her satchel and Bella saw the darkened expression that had encased her. “And once I realized what he’d done to me…let’s just say Arthur should’ve thought twice about taking on a newborn vampire for the first time.”

Bella didn’t have to hear the words to know what Y/n was implying. Gulping as she muttered, “You destroyed him. Like Edward did to James.”

Their eyes locked, and Bella felt her breath hitch by the blankness in Y/n’s. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” there was no hesitation. How could Bella blame her for wanting revenge on the man who stole her life. Y/n deserved her revenge and from the sound of it, Arthur had never turned anyone prior to her. Leaving him unqualified for the intensity a newborn experiences adjusting to their new life. 

Y/n would’ve been stronger. Faster. Combine that with rage and the taste for vengeance and Arthur was no match for her. 

“Carlisle found me three months later--in July of 1912,” Y/n wrapped up the story, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve before moving to play with her ring. “I knew immediately he was like me, but his eyes were different and I wanted--needed--to know what my future was like. Considering I didn’t really give Arthur the chance to explain,” A sheepish look came over her. “Carlisle had this aura, and I knew I could trust him.” A soft chuckle escapes her, “It’s funny, you know, my intuition never failed me when I was human. It was so strong even then and becoming this only enhanced it. Just look at how the entire time on Titanic I could not shake the feeling it wouldn’t reach America. Then Arthur….Carlisle believes it to be my gift and If I’m being honest I didn’t believe it myself until decades later.” 

Bella instantly became curious, “What made you think otherwise?”

Y/n tensed, and the crushing expression replaced the somber one. Folded hands going in her lap, but her thumb still stroked the ring. “Remember how I said I used to watch over Alex?” Bella nodded slowly, chest tightening at the implication, followed by confirmation. “Well I always felt,” her left hand went to the part of her chest where her heart lay. Unmoving. “In here, beckoning me to be near him. That I needed to see him--even if it was for a split second. And so, for seventy years--,” Bella’s mouth parted with glistening eyes. Y/n mirrored her, but unlike Bella the tears wouldn’t fall. “I would go to him. Observing from afar of course I could never…get close.” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, placing her hand back in her lap. “There were times he saw me.”

A gasp left Bella before she could stop it. “He did?”

“Yes,” Y/n murmur was more of a whimper, and Bella let the first tear fall. “I knew it was wrong, but I’d let our gaze lock. Then the second he blinked or turned I bolted. I know,” she huffed, “It was selfish of me. I hated myself because I was quite literally a ghost haunting him. But God I just needed to see his eyes--they were always my favorite thing about him.” 

Y/n cleared her throat loudly, rubbing her arms as she gathered herself. She knew telling Bella about Alex her years watching over him would come to this moment, but nothing could prepare her for the pain surfacing within her. 

“The uh--the last time I saw Alex was on his deathbed,” her eyes were closed but she heard Bella’s reaction. From the stutter of her heart to the sharp inhale. “In the days leading up everything felt off. I knew he was sick--he’d been for awhile, but I hoped he’d pull through like the other scares. This was different.” Her hand went back to her chest. “My intuition never failed me,” she let out a watery laugh, “and this time…it was warning the inevitable. Then Alice gave a look I’ll never forget, and I knew I needed to get to him as fast as I could.”

Bella couldn’t even imagine, just envisioning it made her heart sink into her stomach and throat dry up. Before she could ask the million dollar question, Y/n answered for her. “I got to say goodbye. It’s what Alex deserved. After everything I put him through he deserved to have closure.”

“Why did you never…?”

“Turn him?”

“Yeah,” Bella frowned, immediately regretting the question upon Y/n’s look of torment. 

“Same reason why Edward has yet to turn you,” it was harsh and Y/n knew it. But Bella needed a wake up call, if she could be the one to deliver then so be it. Yet at the same time, Y/n finds it aggravating that Edward would put this much effort into a relationship with Bella to not turn her. With Alex, Y/n never pursued him and kept her distance for a reason. Yes, she tortured herself by constantly checking on him, but at least she committed to it. 

A flash of hurt was evident on Bella, but she recovered as Y/n continued, “Alex lived a long life. Maybe not always happy, but he went on to do great things. He became an engineer, and dedicated his career to advancing ships for cross-Atlantic travel. Because he never wanted another disaster like Titanic to happen again,” a small smile curled up on her lips, a proud look in her eyes. “Eventually he married a nice woman, had a daughter, and three grandkids. Turning him would’ve taken that all away.”

Despite feeling broken-hearted for Y/n, Bella understood her reasoning, even though she herself desires becoming a vampire to be with Edward. Unlike Y/n, who sacrificed her chance at having her love with her to give him the ability to live a full life. 

“Did you,” she bit her lip, leaning her elbows on the table after wiping a stray tear. “Did you at least get to talk to him? Before he died?”

Y/n was silent. Gaze drawn down to her lap where it focused on the diamond ring. And while her undead heart broke for the man she’d never see tending to his garden or placing fresh flowers on her ‘grave,’ ever again, Y/n smiled at knowing he was in a better place. 

“I did.”

“I-I knew--I always knew,” the old man croaked in anguish as tears welled in his beautiful eyes that still held the color and sparkle they did when he was a seventeen-year-old boy. Now covered with wrinkles to match his withered skin and silver hair. He laid in a hospital attached to different machines, heart monitor picking up in pace at the rapid beat due to the emotions consuming him. But no matter his appearance, he was still the sweet, darling, Alexander Mason Y/n fell in love with all those years ago. “I-I saw you--after Carpathia docked I scoured the area for you.”

“I know you did,” Y/n whispered with agony. Grabbing his hands gently, making him gasp by how cold they were but he clutched them like a lifeline. Holding them to his chest because he feared that if he let go she’d disappear. 

“They told me you were lost at sea,” the first tear fell, and Y/n felt a sob in the back of her throat. “They said you sank to the bottom and would never be recovered. They--they told me I was making it up--but I knew you were out there. I saw you.” He shook his head as more tears cascaded down his cheeks like a never ending waterfall. “I saw you at my graduation. At the cemetery when my mother died. At the docks when I left for France--when I was in France.” Y/n shuddered at the memory surfacing. 

America had entered World War I and despite Alex coming from wealth where he easily could’ve dodged the draft, he enlisted and spent the year in Europe fighting. And the entire time Alex carried a photograph of Y/n in his pocket close to his heart. Removing it when he was about to go on the frontlines to take one last look at her face and press a kiss to the image. Men in his battalion often asked about the lady Alex held in his pocket, and each time they were met with shock and regret when he revealed she was on Titanic when it sank. 

That was the longest time Y/n had been away from Carlisle. He advised her not to go as she did not know any of his friends that lived in Europe, but Y/n refused to be an ocean apart from Alex. Especially when there was the high chance he may never return home. No, she needed to be close to him. To ensure he was safe. Eventually when the war ended, and Alex was back in New York, Y/n tracked down Carlisle in Chicago. Discovering that during her departure he turned a 17-year-old boy dying of Spanish Influenza. 

“I was there,” she breathed, confirming his statements as she stroked his hand and wrist. Aged skin contrasting with hers frozen in time. It pained her to see him like this. Pained her to have gone decades as a shadow in his life. Observing from afar while never drawing close. 

“You were there,” He repeated with awe, the memories of each occurrence flooding his mind. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, conjured by his grief. She was real. “At the docks.” Y/n nodded. “At the hotel opening.” Another nod, this time slower. “At my wedding.”

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. Her head dropped between her shoulders, leaning forward to press her forehead against their conjoined hands. The tearless sob released, echoing along the walls and hitting her straight in the chest. Her undead heart breaking into pieces. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me--I couldn’t come to you no--no matter how much my soul begged for me to put an end to the suffering.” 

“What happened out there, my darling?” He brought her attention back to him. Not wanting to go another second without looking at her face. The beautiful face he fell in love with as a boy. The face that haunted his dreams. That he swore he saw on a crowded street and when he looked out his window on every birthday and anniversary that passed. The face he thought of when fighting for is life in France--praying he’ll see when he was called to the heavens. 

Now that face was in front of him after decades of mourning. When people called him crazy for always believing Y/n to be alive and forced to hide away. “You’re still as beautiful as the day I lost you.” One hand let go of hers to caress her cheek, wrinkled thumb stroking the area below her eyes. “Except your eyes have changed. They’re not the color they were when you left New York.” His hand rested on top of hers, still perched on his chest right by his heart. “But nonetheless, still beautiful.” 

Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to find the right words to say but none of them seemed appropriate. “You remember all those stories of creatures in the night we used to read about that our parents said were incongruous?” His nod was slow, but attentive. 

“Like Dracula?”

“Yes,” Y/n choked out a laugh, “Like Dracula. Turns out all those stories are not fairy tales.” His sharp intake filled her ears.

“Are you saying…?” This time Y/n was the one to nod. “Good Heavens. You--you are a--.” She shook her head roughly, not wanting to hear him say the word. 

“I’m not the same I was when I left for England all those years ago. There are things--dark things, that exist in the world, and unfortunately I’m one of those.”

Alex rescinded her words, “No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“It’s true, darling.”

“You might have different eyes, but you’ll always be my Y/n. You’ve been my guardian angel all these years. Any--anytime I felt lost, you were there. Anytime I-I felt like I was forgetting your face, there it was in the distance.” 

Y/n let out a pained sound, but it was so soft Alex couldn’t hear it. His words struck her. Like lightning hitting a tree. How could he still have devotion to her after all the suffering she put him through. 

“You still wear it?” He brought her attention to their hands, where his frail finger traced the ring. “After all this time?”

Y/n stared at him with absolute love, “I’ve never once taken it off.” Bringing his hand to hers, she kissed his weathered skin. “And I never will.” For a moment they just sat there. Staring at each other while the beep of the monitor filled the room. Getting slower and slower to the point Y/n felt herself starting to crumble. “I’m breaking all the rules coming here,” she eventually said, wanting to hear his voice until the inevitable arrived. 

“Rules?”

“Things in this life are not so different from yours. There are rules to follow and the reason why I had to stay away from you. It would’ve put you in danger--and I couldn’t let that happen.” Alice assured Y/n her visit with Alex would remain hidden from the Volturi, but part of her still worried. Thankfully her intuition wasn’t screaming at her, otherwise the situation would be different. 

“Will you get in trouble if you’re caught?”

“Yes. But I don’t want you worrying about that. Alright?”

“Does anyone know you’re here?” The fact Alex was concerned made her smile. 

“The man who took me in does--and the family he and I found along the way.” One of her hands came up to brush away a silver hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. “He found me shortly after I…became this. He knows I would've moved mountains and fought my way through anyone who got in my way to prevent me from being here with you.”

Alex sighed, eyes fluttering shut as they fought against the sleep his body desperately craved. Y/n saw it too, and the look of anguish overcoming her made Alex understand why she waited until now to make an appearance. 

“This is it, isn’t it.” Not a question, a statement. 

“Yes,” she whimpered, scooting closer so she was sitting beside his torso rather than his legs. Leaning into his space as he kept her palms pressed to his slowing heart.

His smile was gentle, “I guess I should find some solace. Dying with the last thing I’ll see being the love of my life I lost a lifetime ago.” Another groan left her. “I always regretted not coming with you to England. That damn Yale interview.”

“I’m grateful you didn’t,” she defended, tone serious as though appalled by his confession. “Had you who’s to say we would’ve made it on a lifeboat. And if they refused to let you on, I would’ve leaped off.” The chances of him surviving would’ve been slim. The lifeboats took women and children first and therefore the majority of those who died aboard Titanic were men. Including Y/n’s father. “You would’ve never done the amazing things you accomplished, Alex. You would’ve never got your Nobel Prize--or had your family.” 

A sigh left him, knowing she was right, and another wave of tears fell as he whispered, “I would’ve joined you.” He would’ve become a vampire for her. Traded in his future of living to remain unmoving in time with her. 

It devastated her. “I know you would have,” her bottom lip trembled, “But Alex, you deserved to live. You deserved to do all those great things. You’ve embedded your name in history--thanks to you, there hasn’t been a commercial passenger ship to sink in seventy years.”

Alex let out a snuffle, “I didn’t want--I didn’t want anyone to experience the pain I did. Losing you that way…I never recovered, Y/n.” 

Now that destroyed her. Worse than she ever imagined. Y/n audibly reacted as the pain tightened and exploded in her chest. “Oh, Alex.”

“You’ll stay, right?” The monitor decreased in pace. Alex used what little strength his heart had left to stay alive to treasure the last moments the universe afforded him with Y/n. His time was coming, and he was ready, but he needed to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her touch, one last time. “You’ll be right here.”

Y/n leaned forward, holding her weight up but still keeping her body close to his. “I am not going anywhere,” She vowed, lacing their fingers together, pressing them into his chest so she could feel the light thump of his heart. “I’ll be right here every second.”

And Y/n did. She sat there, holding his hands until they went limp. The beeping decreased. Alex’s breathing turned into soft pants, eyes fluttering as the darkness beckoned him. The last thing he felt was cold lips pressed to his forehead, and the melody of her voice in her ears sending him off to the Heavens, “I love you, Alexander Mason, I will love you until the end of time. And when the day comes, I’ll meet you at the docks.” 

April 14th, 2012 

The Cullens stood together in silence as the cool wind breeze passed them and clouds drizzled light rain above. The smell of salt from the sea filled their senses, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, causing the boats docked to lightly sway. 

Bella, now possessing golden eyes and skin so pale and cold, leaned into Edward’s side while brushing a hand down their daughter’s hair. Like her family, she remained silent as she watched her sister-in-law stand alone at the edge of the docking port. Staring ahead into the deep, quiet ocean. 

In the middle of the night one hundred years prior and 1,300 miles away, the ship of dreams known as Titanic sank to the bottom of the Atlantic. Carrying 2,240 souls on her maiden voyage to New York, only 706 made it to their destination. The rest were lost to the sea. 

Y/n L/n may have survived the sinking, but she died aboard Titanic. As the ‘unsinkable’ vessel took on water, her heart stopped. Never to beat again. Becoming frozen like the waters consuming them, she went on to outlive the 706 survivors rescued on the RMS Carpathia. The last one leaving the docks forever in 2009. 

Flowers in her hand, with the same face that boarded Titanic, Y/n approached the edge of the dock. The wind breezed past her, stronger this time but she remained afoot. Crouching down so her knees hovered over the wood. And when she leaned over to stare at the water, the reflection of that 17-year-old passenger stared back at her. 

With a shuddered breath, Y/n gently lowered the bouquet, watching as the current grasped the flowers, allowing them to drift away in the direction Titanic would have traveled when she reached her final destination. 

Golden eyes followed the flowers as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance until Y/n barely made out the color. When it was gone from her vision, she tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the sight of the sun breathing through the dense clouds. 

They’d have to go indoors eventually, but Y/n rejoiced in the feeling that the universe was sending her a sign. They might be gone, but they are never forgotten. The people we love are always watching over us. Sometimes it’ll feel like a gentle touch to the shoulder. Or comes as a whisper. Or in a crowded room you might find their face. 

However it may come, they are always there. 

And as Y/n began to stand, wind picking up once more, she felt the caress of a hand on her shoulder, a gentle murmur filling her ears. 

“I’ll always wait for you at the docks.”

[ms-demeanor]

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

[visenyaism]

once again I'm back with another spitefully named great bastard oc!

her name is Alicent Hightower. her mother, Melissa, was a second cousin to the lord, and was very heavily involved in things with the Citadel. Melissa met Aegon and had a brief romance in an attempt to convince him to give her some books on dragonlore. and he was like "yeah sure" because he didn't care. and then Hand of the King Viserys grounded him for like a month when he found out.

Melissa realizes oop she's got a kid and immediately is like "okay we're trying weird blood magic" so she petitions Lord Hightower and the Hightowers fund a heist on Dragonstone, which steals a ton more books on dragonlore as well as a couple eggs. And then Alicent (named as such bc Hightower queen and Lord Hightower is starting to have Ideas) is basically raised on the scientific method. Okay, the dragon egg isn't hatching in the fire? let's try it with fire *and* blood! they're trying to reverse engineer Valyrian blood magic and Valyrian steel. the Maesters of the Higher Mysteries are absolutely loving this.

Eventually, the Hightowers send Alicent and a few junior Maesters off to do an internship with the alchemists in King's Landing, figuring that maybe wildfire would do the trick? Alicent has a lovely time submerging dragon eggs in wildfire. meanwhile, the official Master of Affair Math hears hightower, sees purple eyes, realizes "oh shit this potential arsonist could be a Targaryen" Aegon has a lovely lovely time scoping out his potential new daughter, and really likes that she's all-too willing to use her Maester training to make certain nobles very unpleasant. after the Master of Coin questions why there's always smoke coming from her window and subsequently spends a weekend with horrible diarrhea, Aegon recognizes her as his bastard. the Hightowers are overjoyed.

Alicent convinces Aegon to name her cousin as Hand of the King, via the method of "wouldn't it be funny?" She and her cousin Serenei have a lovely time in King's Landing. Once Serenei dies, Alicent takes over care of Shiera, to incredibly mixed results. Shiera likes her aunt-sister very much and learns everything she knows from Alicent, though Shiera is markedly more successful at magic. none of the other Great Bastards like her very much. she's older than most of them by at least a decade, is weird and goth, is a bit too enthused by blood magic, and keeps trying to get permission to visit Dragonstone. Aegon, believing entirely that she'd blow up the volcano, says no. he also makes a habit of seating particularly annoying guests next to her. Aegon likes his new daughter who's all-too-willing to poison and is also a very good bartender. Alicent is also his weed dealer.

during the war, Alicent takes Shiera on a road trip in Essos. they visit all the magical sites from the warlocks of Qarth to Asshai. Shiera returns to Westeros, but Alicent decides to sail to Valyria. it is unknown if she reached there, or if her boat just exploded. both options are very likely. Daeron spends the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, petrified that his weird sister is going to show up in the middle of the night and ask him if he wants to buy this weird hallucinogenic she found.

This is so so spectacular. So many gems. mad scientist weird aunt. Master of Affair Math. Shiera Hightower. Aegon scouting which bastard children to claim like he’s a college football coach. Disappearing in valyria. Wow.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Shane hcs bc why tf not

Starting off strong, he's 30 years old. people are gonna hear that and think, "What the fuck Bullet, you're insane, Stardew characters are all in their 20's " but you see that's where we differ, sweetie. I consider Harvey to be the oldest bachelor with Shane 2nd in line. The way Shane talks, he sounds like a 30-year-old man. The way he acts, he acts like a 30-year-old man. The way he looks.. he looks like a 30-year-old man. Idc what yall say.

Second in line, he likes heavy music. That is not me self-projecting. He 100% grew up around mfs on his gridball team who listened to people like.. idfk Kanye West, and my homeboy is the outcast with the, " i was raised on Iron Maiden, Metallica, and Motley Cru. " I like thinking, as he got older he started liking bands like Slipknot, Alice In Chains, and Nine Inch Nails. Angry music for an angry soul.

He is an only child.

Curses like a sailor. He tried to be extra weary of it when he caught Jas saying the f-word one day. Marnie elbows him when they're in public and he curses. He's pretty bad with it.

Always had bad grades in English. The highest grade he got was a B in his junior year of high school.

First job was working at a fast food restaurant. He also cleaned people's cars with friend of his during his freshman year.

Refers to his male friends as his, ' Buddies "

Poker EXPERT.

Liked Dragon Ball for a while.

14 mm ear gauges. Had his tongue pierced when he was 18. Tried to do it to himself in the back of his math class in his Junior year but it got infected.

The first car he owned was a pickup truck he bought from a very sketchy car dealer.

Too many crazy high school stories. He probably often jumped the fences with his buddies and would get in trouble. Now his social skills are actual ass and he's old.

Cannot bear the thought of learning another language.

Does not like vodka.

He doesn't like dogs. at all.

Has a tiny tattoo of his chicken Charlie above his ankle. Probably has a tattoo on the inner side of his forearm as well.

[ysrjune]

౨: SAM MONROE ໒; TWILIGHT AU

[ inspired by something I saw on tumblr/bot on j.ai made by erosmutt. ]

[ I don’t think this is in chronological order of the saga but if it is then yippee!! ]

[ no cullens. rosalie, jasper, emmett, alice, esme, and carlisle exist but under different names. no y/n. 3rd person. doesn’t mention reader being a Swan, but you could imagine it that way. not proof-read. I think my math was lowkey off by a little bit LMFAO ]

໒: Sam Monroe became a vampire back in 2001. He would have been 42 if he was actually alive now, but he's stuck in his 16 year old body. The young boy was hospitalized after an overdose and was dying. What nobody knew was that one of the doctors at that hospital was immortal. He had created a “family” of vampires before even reaching Sam. The young boy grew on the Dr. Kevin in a short amount of time, leading to biting Sam and turning him into a vampire before he reached death.

໒: Another year in high school. Hes learned everything already (only 20 years after he died did he actually pay attention) and now he could actually not pay any attention to his teachers, but still know the answer to every question he was asked.

໒: Sam is a 40 year old man. He's matured since he was 16. Now he doesn't skip class, does his work on time, cooperates on group assignments without fussing—he does everything he didn't do all that time ago. He still prefers to keep to himself, though.

໒: What seemed like his millionth junior year, you switched to his highschool in Forks. You were in his biology class and of course the teacher had to sit you next to him. He kept his eyes to himself but he so desperately wanted to get a better look at you. Sam had only glanced at you when you walked in, but he knew you were beautiful. You smelled great, too. One thing bothered him, though. He couldn't read your thoughts.

໒: Everytime you tried to make small talk with him, he never answered with real words. A shrug, shaking or nodding of the head.. thats all. He didnt even bother to spare a glance. He kept his eyes on his notebook where he would doodle things, and after that first day.. he didn't go to school for 2 weeks. Was it your fault? did you annoy him? a bunch of questions flooded your head.

“Do you guys know that Sam kid? pale skin and black hair with a blue stripe..” you ask the group of kids you started sitting with 2 weeks ago. “Who doesn't know him,” Avery, a girl with black hair and green eyes, answers you. “hes gorgeous.” she continued and smiled. “got your eyes on him or somethin’ ?” Jeremy, a dirty blonde with dark brown eyes, asks. “No,” you shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows. “I just.. sit with him in bio. He hasn’t been here since my first day.” Jeremy shrugs. “He dissappears a lot. Him and his siblings. Their dad likes to take them out everywhere out of town randomly.” he explains. “how many siblings does he have?” you asked Jeremy while picking at the split ends in your hair. “four, but they're like.. dating. its really weird.” Avery rolls her eyes. “They arent actually related. They're all adopted, so you know.. they arent blood.” she lets you in on what was going on between that family. “All those kids have different last names. They have the dads name, yeah, but they dont really use it. Its just there.” she says. “okay well its still really frickin weird. I mean, they sleep under the same roof. like, thats gotta be freaky.” Jeremy shakes his head. “just mind your business, jer.” Joanna, another girl who sat at the table groans.

໒: Just a few days after that conversation at lunch, Sam came back. He was sitting at the lab you two were assigned seated in, and once you walked in, he looked up at you. “Hi..” he starts off a few seconds after you sit in your stool. “Im Sam.. Monroe.” He introduces himself officially. “sorry I didnt get to introduce myself the other day. Im not good with talking to new people.” He confesses, still looking at you. “Its fine,” you assure him and look his way and introduce yourself to him. He managed to make a little bit more small talk after that.

໒: At lunch that day, you saw him sitting with his siblings. A girl with blonde hair whose name is Meli. Her boyfriend.. and adoptive brother, (yikes) Benny. Another boy and girl who were also 'together', Ryan and Julissa. Julissa had copper hair while Ryans hair was plain black. Your group was talking, but you zoned out while sneaking looks at Sam. His outfit today told you a lot about who he is. black cargo shorts, a green shirt underneath a metallica band T.. jewlery covering his wrists, neck, ears and mouth. He was some sort of punk, maybe.

໒: Overtime, he somewhat became your friend after months of trying to get to know him. Month 6 was when you found out his secret. It freaked you out, and it angered him because he knew thats how you'd act, but you just had to snoop around at libraries to read about immortals with cold skin, a diet of blood and lots of other things.

“I'm not afraid,” you tell him, but he knew it was a lie. He heard you heart racing. “You lie a lot. Not a good habit to fall into. Could get you into some serious trouble.” He walks behind you, but once you turn around.. he isnt there. you turn back around and find him standing in front of you, making you flinch. “how did–” “don't be stupid. you found me out so you know how I did that.” He towers over you. “You need to leave me alone. Dont talk to me again. Dont even look my way.” Sam mumbled. “You weren't supposed to find out.” “Anyone who isnt an idiot would know,” you snap back. “Well, congratulations, you arent an idiot. Want a cookie?” He sarcastically asks and walks off. You scoff and run after him. He wasnt using his super fast ability, but he still walked fast. “Sam, I cant just forget about this!” “try your very best, you can do it.” He replies. “Sam-” “shut the fuck up already, God damn!” He looks back at you. But something was off. He was sparkling in the sunlight that casted over him through the trees of the forest you two were in. “you sparkle?” you ask, trying to hold back all those jokes that came into your mind. “yeah, I use my sisters makeup everyday so I can shine.” He throws a sarcastic comment and rolls his eyes. “leave me alone.” but you didn't.

໒: “I'm like 40, you know that.” Sam smirks as you kiss his neck. “I shouldn't be seeing such an old man.. its gross.” you laugh, looking up at him. “super gross, but atleast I look seventeen, right?” he smiles. “sixteen.” you correct. “whatever,” he rolls his eyes and kisses you. Sam felt guilty. He felt like he was taking advantage of you because of how much older he is.. but it quickly went away when you stuck your tongue in his mouth.

໒: Sam hates your friend, Josh. Hes a fucking wolf.. he smells, isnt nearly as good looking as himself, he just.. he isnt trustworthy. “you dont trust me?” you ask Sam when he told you not to go with Josh to ride his motorcycle. “I do,” he shakes his head and looks at Josh. “Its him I dont trust.” Josh was in love with you, Sam wasnt stupid. He knew that you wouldn't leave him for Josh, but.. it still irked him how you still hung out with Joshua, knowing how much Sam didnt like him.

໒: Sam was the one to get you high for the first time. You've used drugs before, but not properly so it never had an effect. Even when Sam is fucking dead hes ruining his body. (not really..)

໒: Sam prefers to talk problems out but sometimes he just gets so angry that he cant help but yell at you. He goes too far sometimes and he doesn't apologize right away either. He just leaves and doesnt return for a few hours.. even days. He tries his best to make it up to you afterwards though.

໒: Hes always blasting his music in his airpods, room, car.. literally everywhere hes at. When you hangout in his room, theres always his playlist in the background.. but not on full volume so you could hear each other.

“I wont do it. You're crazy.” Sam says while looking for something in his drawer. You wanted him to turn you into a vampire judt like him but he hated the idea. “You're not gonna want me when im all wrinkly and disgusting.” you argue. Sam looks back at you with an irritated look. “you dont get how I feel about you, huh? I dont fucking care. I'll always want you, it doesnt matter what you look like.” he rolls his eyes and starts digging again. “Sam,” “Say one more thing about it and im taking you home. I'd never fucking do that to you. You dont know what you want.”

໒: weeks after that conversation, Sam waited for you outside your house when you came back from school. He asked you to go on a walk with him, and he looked really upset.

“we're leaving Forks.” He says, leaning against a tree trunk. “Kevin is supposed to be 10 years older than he looks. People are starting to notice.” He says, crossing his arms. Your heart started beating fast. “okay.. so what do I tell my dad? how am I gonna leave with you?” You ask. Sam looks you dead in the eye. “you don't. you're staying, I cant take you with me.” you had been together almost a year and he was just leaving like that? “so you're breaking up with me?” tears swell in your eyes. Sam doesnt answer. “you're not.” you shake your head. “you cant leave me.” you sob and hug him. “I can and I am. Look, ive been meaning to break this off anyway. We dont make any sense, babe. You're gonna die one day and what am I gonna do? Its better if I leave and un-attach myself.” he shakes his head. “I promise it'll be like I never even existed. You'll forget about me. It wont hurt you.” He looks down at you.

It really was like he never existed after a month that he left. No one talked about him or his family, your texts weren't going through to him or his siblings, your dad didnt ask about him and neither did Josh. Sam was gone. He was beginning to become a figment of your imagination. But he wasnt truly gone. You didnt really forget about him.

The pain reminded you that he was real.

@anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @literally-izzy @valloos @alexlovesysrjune

get added to my taglist! let me know!

[ask-margaret-sterling]

"Uhmm... Is this thing working-? Oh, it is!"

"Hi there! I'm Margaret! It's nice to meet you!"

"I think my brother told me about this..? It looked like fun, so why not! I really hope to become your friend!"

Margaret's personality

"She is a cheerful student who really enjoys playing with others! However, to put it negatively, she is a bit noisy...."

(From the Edgyverse wiki)

Headcanons for this silly girl ✂️

- She's a really sweet student, and also very talkative.

- She sensitive about how her arms look. Don't make fun of her for it, please-

- Really likes making paper crafts, she gives them to her friends as gifts :3

- Also likes to draw.

- Eats paper scraps for some odd reason-

- Sees Mister Barrel as a father figure! ( @ask-mister-barrel ) :33

- She can be a bit clingy at times.

- Learning how to not be so noisy, although it's rather difficult for her.

- Actually a rather sensitive kid.

- Hates bullies a lot >:(

- Ticklish

- Uses scissors as a self defense weapon ✨

- Her adoptive dads are @ask-mister-barrel and @mister-hotchkiss-craft-teacher

Rules ✂️

- No nsfw at all- Margaret is 16 for fuck's sake-

- Don't try to kill/harm her.

- Respect me and the people I roleplay with.

- Don't send any creepy asks.

- Just behave yourself-

"Margaret talks like this" - ✂️

[Mod talks like this] - ♣️

All art including the character belongs to Edgyaludon on twitter/YT

Other students ✂️

@engels-ask-blog @claire-the-silly @askclairefpe @lana-and-her-sockpuppets @silly-lesbian-bubble @abbie-appleboy @abbie-the-apple

@oliversoapeater-official @zip-the-chaos-child @ask-zip-thingz @3dward-th3-s1lly

@sk3ll-em0-k1tty @ruby-the-pansexual-robot @riley-crazy-kid @rabies-infested-riley

@asklizzyfpe @ask-silly-rabbit

@marvin-sterlinggg

Teachers/Staff

@math-teacher-who-loves-oreos @miss-bloomies-science-class @wendigo-language-teacher @lesbian-history-teacher @best-art-teacher-miss-sasha @pansexual-music-teacher @ask-principal-grace @very-tired-principal @kitkatlovingalgebrateacher @ask-mister-barrel @mister-hotchkiss-craft-teacher @janitor-mister-broomire @mrbasils-cookies

∆lice

@alice-monstrous-princess

Others

@askskary @official-crazie @agethath3silly @viviansmagicshop @ask-miller

@danger-abbie @danger-bloomie @danger-zipster @danger-oliverrr

@ask-amy

[Sorry if you aren't mentioned-]

Will update this post if necessary.

"SEND ASKS PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLE-"

[Enough, Margaret-]

[cipheramnesia]

Dr. Stevenson would have had to take Athena when she was a very young child. Maybe four years old, give or take. It could happen so many ways but it would have been so very easy for her to put just a little pressure on one or two people to have CPS take custody of the girl. This is all just a dream, and Athena's whole life after that is one neutral colored room after another with a slightly different ergonomic office chair every few years, and her only solid memory to hold on to is a reflection of light off water. Sand and water, surrounded by big trees with branches all bent heavy and green. A half open, half broken rusty gate clinging onto a couple concrete pillars long bereft of their accompanying wall. Athena would hold onto that for dear life, treasure any little sliver of color from a light blue hoodie to a cheap pair of headband bunny ears to blue and yellow rain-boots. They would have accumulated over the years of the taped on monitors, blood draws, urine samples, hair clippings, annual spinal tap.

Sometimes she'd go days without food, or her room temperature would swing from frigid to boiling, then the big orderly and the phlebotomist with Dr. Stevenson's sharp voice over them all would come in. "Be careful," she'd snap out, slapping off hands that gripped too tight, never once spoken out of love or even empathy. "Don't damage her, we don't know if we'll ever find another one." The concern only spoke of a rare and treasured object, perhaps a Cartier wind up music box. The others calmed her like an animal, "easy girl, just a moment and it's over." Sometimes when there was a new phlebotomist, Athena got a small piece of candy. She never had the same one more than a few months. She'd try to savor the hard lollipop or drop of chocolate and ignore the sound of Dr. Stevenson through the hollow doors, "This subject is on a specialized diet to ensure consistency of results, you are not to bring any such personal items-" and it went on.

Learning math and reading and writing after a fashion, information provided by Dr. Stevenson with grudging irritation, but once in awhile short and tantalizing sidepaths of the personal. "These sides are you, much like you and the light, you control both sides with the shared information. Oh, nevermind. Figure it out yourself." Athena would never know what kind of a monstrosity Dr. Stevenson was building from her blood and their studies, only the day that something went terribly wrong, and Dr. Stevenson didn't come to see her anymore. The time she'd showed the room the light and it hurt Dr. Stevenson, she still came back a few days later, but this time she left and Dr. White started taking care of her. He was much nicer, but wouldn't let her have her room in the dark, and did not think all the work Dr. Stevenson had been doing was very interesting. Sometimes he would talk about Dr. Stevenson's huge promotion with a sure bitterness. He showed up with a younger girl he called Alice.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 7 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

I woke up to the news of Ms. Patti LuPone getting a Critics’ Choice nomination, so, you know. VINDICATION!!!!

lilia is back in the tunnel with jen, looking like the definition of a sad wet cat

it's actually cute that she can be so gullible at times. incredible seer powers, but not so good with irony

hadn't noticed jen tearing off half her dress and creating a perfect miniskirt

Because I wanted it to. I ignored it. I put it away. Lilia admits that losing her powers wasn't something that happened to her, but an active choice she made.

I always appreciate the visual gag of a tall actor and a short actor behind a wall

my new favorite disaster duo!

following the actual timeline, this is the first time they see the trial, but lilia has been here already, in the future.

billy's so happy he hasn't killed them lmaooo

the SWAG this woman has

WHO MASSACRED THIS SPREAD i can't

LITERAL CHILDREN. mom's back home and wants to know who started the fight

gay jokes. gay jokes as far as the eye can see. and billy going me me me let's make this about me

oh this is such nice framing

she's so commanding. i love it when lilia is in control

everyone's comedic timing is on point in this scene. and jen holding an apple!

when I say billy is making it all about himself, I mean that he - intentionally or not - created the Road as a way to understand his own identity, to figure out how his human life with the kaplans and his witchy heritage can fit together. and he's making it everybody else's problem.

yesss supportive jen

I'm gonna write down this whole speech because I want to learn it, and I also want to listen to patti deliver it again and again.

"The first card is you, the Traveler. next comes What's Missing, the reason for your quest. here is the Path Behind, wounds suffered, lessons learned. here is the Path Ahead, a place for growth and discovery. of course you will face Obstacles, preceding a potential Windfall. you must overcome all to reach you Destination."

so 1) the subject, 2) their goal, 3) the past, 4) the future, 5) shit they're gonna go through, 6) shit that's gonna help, 7) destination.

Gotcha.

clowns

you are the Magician. you have enormous potential and the ability to turn all your goals into reality. very fitting. I love that billy's card is not about danger, but about potential.

detective agnes still trying to figure out billy. you know her mind is doing the math lady meme

and here agatha jumps ahead to save lilia from the falling sword. you know what she's doing? she's doing what alice would have done. in moments of danger we've seen alice barreling to the rescue with agatha one step behind, almost following but ultimately suppressing the instinct to help. I don't know if agatha absorbed something of alice's essence by killing her, or if her example was simply contagious. but agatha has taken up her mantle, and, without realizing it, she's protecting the coven in her stead

lilia jumps to episode two, episode four and episode three in rapid succession, and lands herself back with maestra.

lilia says she didn't want to come, maestra once again calls out her bullshit. nobody put her on this journey, nobody stole her powers. she did it all herself.

I'm a forgotten woman. Then REMEMBER YOURSELF! is one of the best lines in these shows, I'm putting it up there with what is grief but love persevering. it's so empowering. because look, we can ask for help, we can find community. we need to, actually. but nobody can save you, if you don't save yourself first.

lilia's past, her family, her coven, an entire generation wiped out, with her as the sole survivor. she saw it coming from miles away and couldn't do anything to prevent it.

in her anguish, lilia has just revealed her old maestra exactly how she's going to die. and this impossibly wise woman just shrugs it off.

it's all we have in common.

we cannot escape our suffering. we can only share the burden.

go to episode 7 part 5

[downrightbooks]

Okay so I have a theory/assumption

First off I will state the fact that I have always hated Tobias Hawthorne for what he did to his grandsons (absolutely messing up their psyche), but I have been wondering for a while what happened to make him change the way he “parented/raised” his grandsons. Like he treated/raised his own children (even Nash for that matter) differently than he did Grayson, Jameson, and Xander. For example, he said in his letter from The Hawthorne Legacy that he would raise the next generation differently than how he raised Zara, Skye, and Toby.

But… if you see in the letter he also said that he came close to finding Toby once but found something else instead.🤔

I THINK IT WAS ALICE!!!

So my theory is that whatever happened when he found Alice or whatever she asked of him ultimately changed the way he raised his grandsons. I think he realized that whatever Alice was up to, or whatever she was involved with was very dangerous (that was why he pushed his grandsons to be better and stronger willed).

In the Exclusive Edition of The Inheritance Games Tobias says “In this life, to be what I am, to do what I have done, to have all that we have…Sacrifices have to be made. Things get broken.” But then he goes on to say “Never forget the broken things, the ones you leave behind. Clean up the shards, because when you don’t….People get hurt.”

(I believe he must be again talking about Alice and whatever she’s mixed up in)

Furthermore, while I was rereading The Grandest Game Odette says that Alice randomly revealed to Tobias that she was alive around 15 years ago. So I was doing the math and Grayson (who is either 21 or 22 in the Grandest Game) would have been about 6 or 7 when Alice came to see Tobias.

So I did a little bit more digging and in one of the chapters in The Brothers Hawthorne there is a flashback “Eleven years and 10 months ago” (which is about 12 years ago) in the flash back Jameson is turning 8 the next day and Grayson will be turning 9 the day after that. They both had to show their completed challenges to Tobias, and they were going to show him their skill that they had cultivated. In this chapter Jameson says that the old man would make him and Grayson fight each other to show off what they had learned.

The highlighted part also says that they had been practicing martial arts for the past 3 years which means that Tobias started the whole “Invest, Cultivate, Create” thing around this time, which also would mean that Grayson would be around 6 years old and Jameson would be around 5.

THIS IS AROUND THE EXACT SAME TIME THAT ALICE SHOWED UP!!

We know that something shifted around the time Grayson and Jameson were young kids because it said in the first few books that when Nash was a little kid he wasn’t really raised the same way compared to the way his younger brothers were. So he would have been around 12 years old when Tobias started the whole “invest, cultivate, create” thing which I don’t think he ever really cared for.

Basically what I’m saying is that as much as I absolutely hate Tobias Hawthorne, I think I hate Alice more. I think that Tobias was trying to help make sure that his grandsons would be taught how to protect each other and be pushed to the extremes to see the world differently to prepare them in case they got caught up in whatever Alice is involved with. But he did it in a very awful way and ruined his grandsons psyche, which I absolutely despise him for.

Hope this makes sense 😊

[presswoodterryryan]

Master Even and Odd Numbers with Fun Mysteries

Written by Alice (the one with sparkly socks who LOVES marshmallows, mystery solving, and sneaky numbers!)Featuring Mr. Fluffernutter (bunny detective 🕵️‍♂️) HELLOOO, adventure friends! 🐇✨ Guess what? My big sister Ariel just wrote the most super-smart paper about EVEN and ODD numbers. She said even numbers are like dance partners and odd numbers are the ones doing solo twirls. She even used…

[endless-ineffabilities]

Maroon (part three)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

a/n: proposed ages of the characters in this series - Viserys (64), Daemon (55), Alicent (53), Rhaenyra (44), Aemond (26), Helaena (25), Daeron (22), Aegon (30), Lucerys (22), Jacaerys (25), Joffrey (15), Alys (35) ---- as much as I'd like to pretend this took 5 minutes... heh. The Math simply wasn't Mathing for a long while. Anywho, just thought I'd write this in since I've aged up the characters.

Also - with all the time I've spent on this fic, I've decided to ultimately restructure part three. So part four will cover the night of the Dragonstone ball, where it's all about to go down.

themes/warnings: angst!, mutual pining, jealous!Aemond, language, description of accident/injury, Aemond in his stalker era

word count: 8.7k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Everything that occurs leading up to the Dragonstone ball - the outcome of the accident, Aemond struggling with his current state, and the reader left hoping for a love, that perhaps, never truly was.

Lucerys Velaryon has already garnered quite the reputation, at only 22 years old. 

A darling of the masses, everyone loved the young heir to Driftmark, a great company built by his grandfather, the notorious shipping tycoon, Corlys Velaryon.

But having the name Velaryon is a double-edged sword for Luke.

It only increases his privilege and prestige, already being a Targaryen on his mother’s side. Luke is set for life; he has everything he could ever need at his disposal. As a young boy, he has always enjoyed cars. Tinkering with them under the guidance of his father Laenor, as well as his uncle Daemon. Luke got himself into kart racing at the age of 9. Illegal street racing, much to his mother’s disappointment, at the age of 14. And just recently, he has been competing in Formula 2 division racing.

From the outside, he is just like any other boy. Apart from the fact that his family is literally worth billions, that is. 

But Luke has never been content. He has never been self-assured, borne out of the truth, one that everyone simply chooses not to mention, that Laenor Velaryon is not his true father. That he is a bastard, and therefore, not the rightful heir to Driftmark. He has always known this, despite his mother’s pleas otherwise. He knows this each time he hears the employees of Driftmark whisper amongst themselves after he passes by. Whenever he is invited to sit in the council meeting of the company, he feels his true status in how the shareholders disregard his opinions like he’s just some intern.

He grew up amidst the tension between himself and his brothers, and their young uncles, especially Aemond. When Aemond and Lucerys were growing up together, they simply did not learn to exist well around one another. Luke had bullied his young uncle long ago - an act of rebellion, of a boy growing up with resentment in his bones -  when Aemond had been weak and scrawny as a child. Aemond retaliated in kind; but he finally matured and found some inner calm in his mid-twenties. A year or two before you met him.

Luke's uneasiness has only worsened, now that he is nearly set to take his place on Driftmark. Since his family hails from Valyria, everyone expects them to uphold the tradition of only passing down inheritance to rightful heirs. Never bastard children or outliers.

But what the hell. Luke has never been one to follow the rules. His very existence does not abide by them, so why should he?

The night of the accident, Luke had to sit in yet another board meeting for the company. This time, Aemond was there too. Only he was treated as he should, being a Targaryen. Like someone capable, someone worthy. 

It should not have made any difference, really. Luke thought he was used to it all by now - the stares, the hushed whispers, the poorly masked scorn. They think Aegon or Aemond to be more competent. If the board had their way, it would not be Luke who would inherit Driftmark. Perhaps, his grandfather’s brother, Vaemond. Or hell, even his cousins Baela and Rhaena, though they never expressed any interest in the business.

Anyone but Luke.

-----------------------------

As a child, Aemond Targaryen saw himself as some kind of a ghost. A spectre simply moving around his family, their company, their horde of sycophants. Not the first to be considered. Not the designated heir to anything. The second son of the owner and chief executive of Dragonstone, and his much younger, barely beloved second wife.

Once upon a time, his father Viserys had been well and truly happy. 

He was married to the love of his life, Aemma, and they had a lovely daughter who was loved by all due to her charm and fiery nature. 

When Aemma passed in childbirth, Viserys had been near inconsolable. But he could not remain so for very long. Soon enough, his board of trustees, his advisors, urged him to remarry. He did not have an heir yet after all, and as per tradition, he soon needed to have a son so that he might raise him to become the next CEO and owner of their business empire.

But Viserys decided to essentially bypass such tradition, for less than a year after his wife’s passing, he had publicly announced his only daughter as his successor. It did not matter what the board of trustees or the shareholders preferred. They may have considerable sway over the affairs of the company, but in the end, the word of Viserys prevails.

And so Aemond and his three siblings have been pushed to the periphery. Not that they ever stood a chance anyway. In the end, their father will always uphold his precious Rhaenyra over them. Their mother plays the part of a mere trophy wife, though she is a noble Hightower herself, having to feign contentment in spite of all the times she and her children are slighted. 

Aemond thought himself calmer now, and matured. Painstakingly made every effort to be far from that weak boy who had no place anywhere. He is still unsure if he likes the person that he is, and perhaps he never has. But he morphed - or masked - this self-loathing into an unfailing desire to do better, to be better. He’s always wanted more. And he has learned to be strong for his mother, his sister. Himself. 

And now, you. How unpredictable you had been, bursting into his life like the Dornish comet of ‘07. He knew early on that you liked him, sort of, with how your eyes would dart back and forth to his direction whenever he’s in the room. 

It made him uneasy, at first, when his looks developed in such a way that garnered him plenty of attention. The spectre of the city turned ‘Prince of the city’, a strapping young man who can have anyone he wishes. 

But, funnily enough, all those socialites, models, glorified urban princesses with millionaire parents, Aegon’s harem of traditionally near-perfect friends from Lys that he often offers - none of them ever stood a chance to you, his sister Helaena’s earnest, gentle, and quick-witted best friend. 

Aemond would be lying if he said he fell for you immediately. It would be far from his nature to do such a thing. But he had, slowly, found himself enveloped in your light, and only feeling warm, only feeling home - only feeling like he could truly love himself - when you look at him with those soul-piercing eyes of yours. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all, if you can see him in the way you do. And he trusts your judgement; when you profess to want him in turn,  then he must be worth more than he thinks.

But the night of the accident, his forsaken shadow seemed to envelop him like an old friend. One that he can never shake. His anger, his darkness. He had long buried the Aemond Targaryen who frequently got into fistfights. The Aemond who deliberately ordered the expulsion of certain people he simply did not like from the employ of their company. The Aemond who chose to openly mock the truth of his raven-haired cousins’ parentage.

That night, that Aemond resurfaced, and with dire consequences. 

The night of the accident, four months before the Dragonstone ball

The storm had begun just before the board meeting ended. Heavy rain spattered against the Driftmark tower, with the night sky illuminated by streaks of lightning.

Aemond and Lucerys were coming to a head at the council table, and the other members were having to intervene at multiple points, just to mitigate the rising tension. The storm brewing inside the young men’s hearts could easily rival the one threatening to flood the streets.

Lucerys repeatedly interrupted Aemond’s suggestions, having grown tired of his own being cast aside by everyone else. 

“Wait for your turn to speak, my Strong nephew.” Aemond smoothly countered when he did not get to finish addressing Vaemond Velaryon.

“I didn’t think what you were saying was particularly important, uncle.” Luke retaliated in kind.

“Hmm. Some things never change, it seems. You still don’t know your place.”

“My place will soon be the highest seat of Driftmark. And you will still be grandfather’s second son, a mere placeholder at Dragonstone.”

“Please, sirs,” the meeting director complained. “We must get on with more urgent matters.”

Aemond and Luke barely contribute for the remaining minutes, opting to glare and sneer at each other from across the table.

But their council tiffs would not end up being the most unpleasant occurrence for that night. As if the storm also cast its darkness over their reasoning, they soon found themselves racing towards Gods Eye.

-----------------------------

It was meant to be a game. A show of bravado. Two young men, though in their depths still wounded boys, found themselves spewing offenses in an attempt to lower the other.

“You might inherit Driftmark, but everyone knows the truth, plain as day. You will always be a bastard.”

“Sure, but I am still more than you. What have you ever truly accomplished, uncle? Poor y/n, if she’s fallen for your tricks. Does she know who you truly are? She’s too bloody good for you.”

When Luke raised the challenge of racing to the edge of the cliff of Gods Eye, Aemond grasped at the opportunity to humiliate his nephew. To prove all of his claims to be wrong.

It might have been either one of them, or both, who deigned to edge their car close to the other’s, trying to veer it off course. Just a little nudge to make it spin out of the road.

But the turbulent weather was strong, causing mud and water to pool along the gravel. When the cars collided, Aemond’s took the brunt of the hit. Before he could even register the impact, his car was already spinning right towards the treeline. 

Luke had veered off road, his car rotating upside down. His right leg suffered from multiple fractures, including a busted knee cap.

But Aemond… 

His screams resounded despite the ceaseless pattering of rain, louder than even the roaring thunder overhead. A shard of glass had been wedged deep on one side of his face, splitting the flesh open. 

So much blood had pooled into his one remaining eye, that he feared he went entirely blind. The memory of your face flashed across his mind, and he despaired at the thought of never being able to see you again.

Later in the operating room, when the full extent of his injuries was delineated to him, Aemond thought that perhaps, it is you who would never want to see him again.

Why would you, with what has now become of his appearance?

Two months before the Dragonstone ball

You’re finding it hard not to keep tabs on Aemond, still asking Helaena every now and then if he’s really alright. To which she always responds with some version of “He’s okay. He just needs some time.”

Time. That’s fine. You suppose that the accident must have shaken him up, enough to cause him to go into hiding and to avoid everyone.

Unfortunately… painfully, including you. 

You find your mind drifting back to him every day - during your lectures, at work, at home, whenever you’re spending time with Helaena and you’re trying so hard to simply not just pester her about her brother. 

You think back to those secret moments you shared in crowded rooms, up in their penthouse, whenever Aegon would throw a party. Back then, you did not know one another yet, not really. But he would sit on the couch adjacent to yours, shoot you a smile, and silently keep you company while you wait for Helaena to return. He did so because he could sense that you were anxious, and that loud gatherings aren’t really your thing, as he revealed to you when you were… dating. As short of a time as that might have been. 

Gradually, you got to know him, in all those rare moments. His knowing, mischievous smiles. The subtitles nuances in his expression. His calculated manner of speaking.

You knew him, you had him, you lost him. Well, you do still know him - he is your friend, is he not? But it just as well could have been the end, the night of the accident. He has become a kind of spectre to you, leaving you yearning for what could have been. 

Weekends offer some respite from the whole ordeal of having to miss him. Your job at the bookstore allows you to just sit in silence, entertain customers once in a while, and bury your nose in your book-of-the-week.

Once in a while, a friend even drops by. This time, Jace burst through the entryway, bell chiming in his wake, beaming with a brown takeaway bag in one hand.

“Hey, stranger,” you put down your novel, and leave your post on the counter to greet your dear friend with a tight hug. Jace takes note of the fact that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, and his spirits sink. But he immediately gets to work on making you feel better.

“I’d say you’re going to love me for this, but you probably do already,” he says, presenting you with the paper bag.

“Don’t be so sure,” you jokingly say, narrowing your eyes at him, before peering inside, hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries.

You shrug, starting to dig in with no hesitation. “Actually, good of you to be sure.”

He laughs as you drop the bag on the counter, and rip it open to reveal all the goods. He takes his own coffee and leans closer to have a bite of the profiterole you eagerly wave in front of his face.

“Thanks,” you manage to puff out, with a mouthful of pastry. 

“Anytime, sweet.” Jace swallows, giving you a once over. “How are you holding up?”

It’s hard to act all nonchalant when he gives me those puppy-dog eyes. Jace’s innate sincerity almost makes you want to just cave in and vent all about Aemond.  “Nice of you to be concerned, but it’s not like I was the one who got into an accident.”

“I know, sassy, but I also know that you and Aemond were… you have seen him recently, no?” he asks, sounding certain of the answer to his question, which downright confuses you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Along with the rest of the city, I haven’t seen nor heard anything from him.”

“Really?” he remarks, incredulous.

“Come on, Jace,” you take a comforting sip of coffee, still warm. “You know this. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Huh,” his head tilts back slightly as he mulls over your response. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“I could’ve sworn that was his car parked across the street. Right outside.” he says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You freeze, but your eyes are drawn straight toward the shop windows.

“That’s not - ,” That’s not possible, you want to say. But your feet already drag you to the edge of the shop, with Jace in tow. “Which one is his?” you ask, knowing Aemond’s got quite a few cars, privileged boy that he is. Your voice comes out in a hushed tone, as if you don’t want Aemond himself to hear. Ridiculous, you chide yourself, it probably isn’t even him.

“That silver Jaguar idling on the curb,” Jace answers, and you see it. Slantwise on the opposite side of the road, stopped right before the bus stop across the bookshop.

“Are you sure?”What the hell could he be here for? You didn’t want to admit it, but you feel the hope right in your bones. You want him here, of course. You want him to come see you.

“Yes,” Jace easily replies. “There’s only one vehicle in the city with that personalized plate."

Before you can stop yourself, you take a tentative step outside, hand still on the shop door.. I’m sure he can see me, if he’s really there.

The windows of the Jaguar have the darkest tint, making it nearly impossible to see inside. 

“That’s him,” Jace says from behind you. “He doesn’t let anyone else drive his cars. I even thought he was already inside the shop when I arrived.”

“Well shit,” you breathe, your heart racing in your chest. “What do I do?”

“What is he doing?”

“Fuck it.” You only manage to take a step forward on the sidewalk before the car roars to life, engine purring smoothly. Aemond maneuvers the car from its spot and leaves, driving right past you, a cloud of leaves and dust billowing all around.

“What the fuck?” Jace scoffs, thoughtfully waving his arm around to keep the dust from your face. “What is he on?”

“Aemond,” his name escapes your lips in a soft whisper. A silent plea that will never reach him, but you say it all the same. That it doesn’t matter to you, whatever state he is in after the accident. That even though he chose Alys over you, you can understand, or at least try to. He is still the same boy who captured your heart not so long ago. 

But why did he just leave? What is he so scared of?

“Come on,” Jace says, holding the door open for you. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

When you go past the entryway, you turn on your heel and hang up the ‘On a break. Come back soon’ sign on the door. Sighing heavily, you shrug at Jace, “What a day, huh. You sure know how to bring drama with you.”

Jace only smiles, well-used to your banter, “How is this my fault?”

“I dunno,” you raise your hands, and walk back to the counter. You’re not sure how you feel at the moment - anxious, worried, disappointed? It’s all up in a haze since Aemond suspiciously drove off, and so, you can’t control the flood of dry sarcasm spilling out of you. Like some kind of coping mechanism. “You must have called Aemond here, so you two can drive my poor heart into a frenzy. Like I don’t already have a lot on my plate.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Jace slowly nods, playing along. “Aemond hasn’t even spoken to me since everything went down. But I definitely sought him out today, and definitely forced him to watch you from out there in his car like some obsessed creep.”

“I knew it!”

-----------------------------

Fifteen minutes into your impromptu break, the tone has lightened to some degree, and you sit at a corner table with Jace, sipping the remains of your coffee.

After a lot more banter, and catching up about Luke, Joff, and the rest of his family - those who can still tolerate your presence,that is - Jace finds you staring blankly at a bookshelf. “Hey,” he says, “I don’t think my uncle is hiding in between those books.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Anyway, enough about him, eh?” Jace offers, taking your hand from across the table. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

You squeeze his hand in return, staring back into his doe brown eyes, “Yeah?”

“Seeing as Aemond isn’t taking you to the Dragonstone ball,” he pauses, gauging your reaction. He decides that it’s all good when you remain impassive, “How would you like to come with me instead? I did mean to ask you, you know, but dear uncle beat me to it.”

“Oh.” Your hand loosens around his a bit, as you take in his words. “Well, I mean I would love to but - ”

Jace adds quickly, as if he is already reading the thoughts whirring through your mind. “No pretenses about it, I assure you. I’m not expecting anything else. Just that you honour me by being my partner to the ball.”

“Mmm,” your shoulders relax, and you find yourself smiling at Jace’s heartfelt nature. One that immediately warmed you to him when you first met. “Partners, huh?”

His tongue makes a clicking sound in confirmation. “What do you say?” 

“Jace,” you start, weighing the options in your mind. “I would go with you, of course - ”

“That settles it then.”

“- but I just… I don’t know, if… Aemond does not want to see me, maybe I shouldn’t just show up at the ball?”

Jace rolls his eyes, “He doesn’t own the bloody ball, you know. He can’t control whether you come or not.” He leans in, voice lowering like he’s sharing a devious ploy, “Besides, if he doesn’t want to see you, then why would he be loitering across the street simply to watch you through the shop windows? Let’s be real now, eh?”

Fair point. You reply, “Far be it from me to know what he’s up to.”

“So come to the ball with me and ask him yourself. I’ll even back you up. With my own pitchfork and everything.” The way his eyes blaze in excitement sparks something in you. Being around Jace is always fun, like you’re free to do anything - you could even cause any kind of trouble and he would only be cheering you on. 

If only… if only you liked him the way you do a certain someone, then you might actually have a greater sense of calm. Your self-doubt might be assuaged, your days brighter. 

But no. It is Aemond who fills your wandering thoughts. Aemond who haunts your sleepless nights. It was him who nearly made your heart stop that night on their rooftop, who laughed with you and held you close when you were a fumbling, wine-stained mess. 

Perhaps unfortunately so… it is Aemond whom you love.

That realization makes you straighten in your seat, scaring some sense back into you. Fuck, what am I even thinking? It’s Jace right in front of me. Jace who is asking me to the ball. 

“You got yourself a deal, mister,” you playfully hold your hand out for him to shake.

-----------------------------

Later that night, the Targaryen penthouse in the Crownlands Tower is relatively quiet. Most of the family is away, save for Helaena, their housekeeper Talia…

… and Aemond, who sits in front of his desk, staring at the object atop it which is aglow under lamplight. His eye drifts to the metal surface of the lampshade itself, and he sees it. A scar stretched from his forehead to his cheekbone, with its edges tinged with maroon. 

Revolting. It’ll take some time to heal, they all say. Well it’s been two long fucking months, and it doesn’t feel any better. Nothing feels right.

It isn’t fair, his mother wailed upon seeing him. None of this is. It was the rogue Lucerys’ fault, she insisted, for egging Aemond to go on a damned speed chase in the middle of fucking storm.

His father Viserys merely appraised him for a long moment, before mumbling something that sounded like, “I am sorry this happened, but you’ll be alright”. Then to his mother, “Lucerys is injured as well. This is what they’ve always done, as you know. Luke and Aemond don’t really get along but they’re grown now.”

He added with a warning gaze to Aemond, “They have to learn to be civil to one another. We are all family, after all.”

“Family,” Alicent spat the word like a curse. “Family should not be the cause of grievous harm.”

Aemond remembers the shrug that Viserys did. It is a gesture he has seen endlessly, it might even be the first thing he remembers of his father. All of his pains, and his achievements will always be met with a nonchalant gesture. Some father he is.

There’s only one thing that would make Aemond feel better in this moment, and even that, he cannot allow himself to have. He shall not present himself, this self, to you. He looks at his reflection and he hates what he sees. Perhaps he always has. But he also learned to love himself around you. How easy it can be, like second nature. 

Maybe he was drawn to the fact that you are not from his world, with all its intrigue and playacting. How you choose not to perceive status as a tool, and how you can be kind to anyone. You, the girl who always keeps a book in her bag, even at parties, even if she most likely won’t have time to read it. Just in case, you had said, you never know. You, though very well-mannered, called one of Helaena’s so-called friends a “spoiled cunt”, when you heard her making nasty jokes at Helaena’s expense behind her back.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you had said to Aemond in a grumbling tone, still quite irate, when you found out that he was just in the library adjacent to their living room. “They were just being so… so…”

“Fucking rude?” he finished your thought, his dimples showing in amusement when your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, doll. Maybe I would have done the same. Though that Beatrice would never say shit about Helaena in front of me, seeing as she tried to claw off my jacket once. Her fake nail got caught in the leather. Her attempt at seduction, I suppose.”

Your mouth fell open, then closed once more. You were at a loss. Your blood was just boiling at having to confront Beatrice, who has thankfully left the penthouse, and now Aemond is standing in front of you. Aemond, sharing some story, in good humour. About some girl trying to get with him, and failing. Later on, you will find yourself jumping in frustration in your living room, thinking how in the hell your mind must have short-circuited because you responded with, “It’s a good thing I keep my fingernails trimmed and plain then.”

It was Aemond's turn to stand there, lips parted in surprise at your sudden show of audacity. Where has this girl been hiding all this time? Or has she always been this way? Then your face morphs into one of shock, and you remain still, waiting for some other pin to drop. Something to distract Aemond so you can mumble some excuse and run away. Aemond observes the minute changes in your expression, like you’re struggling to get your bearings, and he finds it all endearing.

Suddenly, the door you had been leaning against is pried open, making you take a step closer to Aemond. An unruly, blonde mop of hair that can only belong to Aegon pokes itself inside, “What are you nerds doing in the damn library?”, then he turns on his heel letting the door slowly close on its hinges, “Never mind, I’m gonna get a drink!”

At the exact same time, you and Aemond burst out in a fit of laughter, the pure and melodic sound of it echoing throughout the room. The very first time that Aemond witnessed you laughing freely in front of him, and his thoughts would later drift back to this moment. To the way your eyes lit up, how your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing harder, and how your dainty hand clasped his forearm, holding on to him for a while.

He did not know then, not yet at least, that he had started falling for you.

When your desire had become apparent, you did not attempt to cross a line. Correctly inferring that Aemond valued his solitude, you became content with admiring him from afar, treasuring every small interaction. 

Everyone keeps remarking at how different he is around you, and maybe you do not realize the truth of their claims, because you had never seen him… like this. So broken. His mask of composure torn to shreds.

No longer the caring, attentive, and self-assured Aemond you claimed to desire. 

“Aemond?” Helaena's voice drifts from his door, which is opened narrowly. She silently lets herself inside when he does not respond.

“Care for some dinner?” she asks, her gentle voice almost breaking through Aemond’s resolve. Perhaps it might have been able to, but not anymore.

“No, I’m not hungry.” Aemond answers, barely audible.

“Right.” Helaena doesn’t press further; she knows that nothing will shake her brother while he’s in such a state, so she tries to bring up something else. Something that might get his attention. “So, I, uh… y/n just called me.”

Helaena notices Aemond slightly tense up at the mention of your name. So that’s what it takes, she thinks.

“Aemond,” she steps closer, now standing beside his chair. “Why were you outside the bookstore where she works?”

Aemond shuts his eyes. Of course you had seen him. And he saw you, clear as day. Beautiful as ever. With bloody Jace right next to you, laughing while sharing some coffee he had brought. 

“She misses you, you know,” Helaena says, and the words drive straight through Aemond’s heart. “I really think you just should speak to her.”

“Hmm.”

“What are you even afraid of?”

A long pause, as Helaena waits for a reply. Fidgeting with the edge of her sweater, she begins to say something more, when Aemond finally says, in a muffled, reluctant tone, “She deserves better.”

“Of course she does!” Helaena perches on the edge of Aemond’s desk, and his eye drifts over her for just a second, before looking down at the object again. “So call her and - ”

“Better than me.” Aemond clarifies, croaking the final word as if in pain.

“Oh, Aemond.” Helaena’s lifts an arm in an attempt to offer comfort, but Aemond instinctively flinches.

“No.” He breathes. “I can’t.”

Helaena nods in understanding, though her heart aches at the sight of her brother like this. She looks to the side, and sees the journal-seeming object sitting on his brother’s desk. The thing he seems to be staring at. 

Helaena lets her fingers run over the smooth forest green cover, and she instantly recognizes it to be Valyrian leather. A rare commodity, so this must not be just any ordinary journal.

“May I?” she whispers, to which her brother shrugs in response.

She gently pries open the leather clasp, and she sees a dedication on the first page, in a swooping scrawl that can only be Aemond’s. Some special ink was used, staining the page with a deep shade of maroon. It reads in High Valyrian, their native language - Ñuha prūmia iksis aōhon.

“I meant to give that to her… before…”

My heart is yours.

“Aemond-” Helaena mutters, her mind stuck on the words, and she knows exactly who they are meant for.

Aemond abruptly rises from his seat, and puts on his black coat, “Just put that back where you found it.” Reaching for something else on his desk, he puts it on his face to conceal his deformity.

Before her brother reaches the door, Helaena manages to voice out, “Where are you going?”

“Away.”

Two weeks before the Dragonstone ball

The accident finally seems to have departed from the mainstream, turning into fodder for small talk as all sensational news pieces do. 

Unsurprisingly, despite the tragic event, excitement abounds. The city is buzzing in anticipation. Everyone is already poring over the main list of attendees which has been made public online. You only glanced at it once to confirm that you are on the list as Jace’s partner, but something else catches your attention. You immediately close the tab in your browser after you read - Aemond Targaryen - and across from his name, as his designated partner - Alys Rivers.

“For fuck’s sake,” you sigh, biting your lip. You opt to open Youtube, but immediately your homepage reminds you of your recent activities. Not stalking, no. Just some curious research. Aemond has never been one to give interviews. That’s more in Aegon’s wheelhouse. Daeron especially, since he also works as a model, gracing the front cover of Vogue thrice already at only 22. 

When Aegon graces the headlines, it’s most likely due to some disorderly conduct at a high-class party or a local dive bar. True to his brand, there is no in-between when it comes to Aegon. It’s either go big or go home. Which usually means he ends up drunk on the sidewalk, having to call Aemond to pick him up and give him a ride without letting their parents know.

But they always find out, of course. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re one of the most recognizable faces in the country.

As for Aemond, you’ve always found it hard to find even a single crumb of him from the internet. Save for a couple of sightings, including those of him and Alys Rivers, and clippings from the few times when he would speak in press conferences on behalf of Dragonstone. But even those were kept mostly private, and not freely available on Youtube. 

As it happens, there have been some rumours of Aemond allegedly coming into blows with the Duke of Lannister and his entourage, after humiliating the man’s sister. Onlookers claimed that they saw the poor girl coming onto Aemond at some party in Pentos, flirting with him. Apparently, he was far from welcoming of her affections. There were some pictures of the fight, or at least, that’s what people say. You were not in the loop when the news spread, sitting through a lecture. Any trace of such pictures quickly vanished from the internet. The Targaryens are always on the lookout to protect their precious image, but they’ve never done anything so methodical when it comes to such occurrences, such as Aegon’s countless mishaps. 

Aemond does have an Instagram profile. You asked him about it once, ages ago, even before your brief - what would you call it… Tryst? Dating period? Well, whatever it was, it’s all done for now.

“Was it your idea to have a profile anyway?” you asked him, after he had playfully teased you about stalking him. That was the only verified account of Aemond’s that you found, complete with the blue tick. His profile was empty, and the following list was at a whopping zero. Though of course, he had about 3.7 million followers, just waiting for the moment that he would choose to do anything on the site.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Aemond looked down and smiled, and you did not know it, but he found himself feeling warm due to the interest you were giving him. He’s confident about nearly everything, but when on the receiving end of attention from the woman he secretly longed for, he felt almost shy. “It was mostly due to the fact that I wanted to have one sole verified account online. I’ve heard talks of impersonators sending people messages and all that. Fucking annoying.”

“Ah, yeah.” You did not tell him, of course, but you knew of those fake accounts, having clicked on several slightly convincing ones to see if they were actually his. But none of them matched. You found yourself muttering, “He would never post that.”

“Didn’t hurt that I got to look through your pictures, too, love.” He smirked then, regaining his confidence. 

You nearly melted into a puddle on the fancy designer-carpeted floors of their apartment, right then and there.

That doesn’t matter now. You sigh, slamming your laptop shut. Instead you choose to dramatically jump onto your bed and growl your frustrations out onto a pillow. 

You roll over, amused at the whole thing. The digital alarm clock Helaena gave you reads 6:32 pm, it’s a Friday night, and you’re left with nothing to do. You’ve already finished the majority of your exams, and for the next month or two, you’re free to go on holiday and do whatever you wish.

But what? You finally decide to give Helaena a call, and reach for your phone on the nightstand. But right then, it lights up. ‘Hel’s Bells’ is calling you. An inside joke the two of you came up with about a week after you met.

“Speak of the devil,” you smile, and press accept. “Hel! I hope you’re just about as bored as I am.”

She laughs on the other end, “I don’t even have time to be bored. Mother has us doing all these preparations for the ball.”

“Do you need any help? I’m no expert at pomp and pageantry but I’ll do my best.” She had just stayed at your apartment a few nights ago for a sleepover, and you noticed that she was careful when mentioning anything about the ball. Trying not to stray into Aemond and Alys territory for your sake, you assumed.

“Sure, come over whenever you want. I don’t really have any idea what it’s all for, but hey, at least we get to put on fancy dresses and look pretty.”

“Oh, you always look pretty,” you say sincerely. 

“Thank you, doll,” she says, before sighing dramatically. “Anyway, I actually called to tell you something. You’re going to come over to our place on Sunday night. We’re throwing a little party.”

“A party, huh.” Will Aemond be there, you wanted to ask, but held back. 

You haven’t seen him for the last three months, after the fateful night of the accident. There was that incident when he parked outside the bookstore, but it was barely anything. 

Word on the street is that the ‘Prince of the city’ had gone into hiding, as comical as that sounds to you. For what exactly? There has been speculation - perhaps he was left horribly disfigured from the accident, which is also why there isn’t any trace of the alleged pictures taken of him in Pentos. But Helaena immediately dissuaded that notion. My brother is not disfigured, she insisted when you brought it up, he’s simply recovering.

If Aemond wants to keep things to himself, then he has the right to do so. He would tell you if he wanted. Call you, send you a message. Anything. 

“A party,” Helaena repeats. “It’ll be for our inner circle. Which includes you, of course. A little prequel to the ball, so everyone can catch up with each other.”

“Aegon’s idea?” you guessed with a wry smile. 

“There might be a direct correlation there, yeah,” Helaena laughs. “Anyway, come over! Since you’re coming with Jace to the ball, then we have to plan everything for you, too! What colour dress do you want to wear? Well, there is a theme but we’ll work with that. Mum assigned a stylist and hairdresser for me, which means they’re for you too and - ”

“Hel, I don’t really need - ”

Then she says something that puts a stop to your protest. “Oh, Aemond won’t know what’ll hit him.”

“Huh.” The thought of seeing Aemond again gives you a surge of excitement. And nervousness. Your yearning for him reawakens, but it never truly left.

Having made her point, Helaena knows she’s got you hook, line and sinker. “I’ll expect you in the next hour.”

-----------------------------

Sunday came rolling over soon enough, and the party at the Targaryen penthouse is well under way.

The ballroom on the 2nd floor is packed, filled with people whom you either don’t know or barely recognize. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without some snooty heirs and heiresses who would openly regard you with what could be confusion or derision. Until a Targaryen or Velaryon would approach you and eagerly whisk you away in conversation.

“Who is she?” you hear someone say when Jace takes your hand and directs you to sit on the couch with him and Daeron. “Why is Jace so close to her? And what on earth is she wearing?”

Unfazed by it all, and already used to such comments, you smile sweetly in that girl’s direction and greet her with a friendly, “Hi, how are you doing?”, without giving her a chance to respond.

Jace watches the exchange proudly. As you sit down, he says, “Aegon invited her, I think. I don’t really know, I don’t like her much.”

“How come?” you jest. “You two have so much in common. Heirs to the kingdom and all that.” Your sarcasm again comes out of you in waves, trying to temper your nerves. You look around the room, though it is not the first time you’ve scanned through everything. 

“I’d much prefer your company,” Jace easily says, then notices your divided attention. “He isn’t here.”

In a transparent attempt at surprise, you ask,“Who?”

Daeron overhears the exchange, after his friend stands up to get a drink. “Aemond’s not here, y/n. At least I haven’t seen him. Last I heard he was holed up in our holiday estate in Pentos.”

“Oh.” Your face visibly falls. You didn’t know what to expect, really. Of course Aemond would  not just show up at this party after avoiding everyone for too long.

“He will be at the Dragonstone ball though,” Daeron pats your knee in sympathy. “He might be going through some shit, but mum would lynch him if he misses that event.”

Jace and Daeron continue to look at you, seeing if they need to offer more comfort, and you can’t stand it. “Alright, you two. Thanks for… I don’t know… but this is a party! We should just go and have fun. No need to be concerned about me and…” You choke up at his name, negating your false show of indifference. 

“Okay,” Jace says, saving you from saying anything further. “How about I get you a drink, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you say, but something crosses your mind. You stand at the same time as Jace, grabbing his arm, “Actually, I’ll go get some air first.”

“Are you alright?” This time, Jace’s sincere gaze is not enough to distract you from that familiar gnawing ache.

“I am,” you smile placatingly. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

-----------------------------

Aemond Targaryen, contrary to what everyone in the party believes, is no longer wasting his days in Pentos. 

He had slipped back into the city earlier that night, and in the safety of their 7-floor penthouse. Right in time for the revelry. He has no intention of making an appearance, but when Helaena let it slip that you would be attending, he could not help himself.

The fact that you would be under the same roof was enough to get Aemond to scurry back home. While he might not be ready to show himself just yet, there are methods which allow him to see you. Watch you.

Helaena would probably smack him upside the head, if she found out. That not only had Aemond come back without telling her, but also that he is watching her friend through the CCTV cameras littered throughout the penthouse. 

Perhaps it is unsavoury, and you might cross your arms and huff at him if you found out. Oh, what I would give to see that in person. But he’ll take what he can get. Do what he must. To still have you, still see you. 

His left knuckle is taut, still bandaged and bruised from his recent activities. Luckily, the stitches on his face had not come loose and the medical treatment his mother is putting him through has done considerable wonders. What would you think, I wonder, if you saw me like this, my love.

His laptop is propped up on his desk, right next to the green journal he means to give you. On the screen, he watches as you trail Helaena for a while. As you sit alone, watching everything unfold. As Jace comes for you, and you sit together on a couch. Too close. Too comfortable for Aemond’s liking. Is something going on between you and my fucking Strong nephew? 

When news reached him that you would be coming to the ball with Jace, Aemond had broken something. He can barely remember what it was, just the sound of it shattering against the wall. A wine bottle? A vase? A mirror? Whatever it was sent his company fleeing from their table, and Criston had rushed forward to make sure that he wasn’t harmed.

Aemond glares at the screen you walk after Jace and whisper something close to his ear. 

Jace regards you for a long while. He better not…

But then you nod and smile, stepping away from him. Aemond finds himself breathing a sigh of relief, predictably, and he almost snorts at his own reaction. 

You walk out of the ballroom, and Aemond has to switch between cameras to follow your path. You pause down the hallway, and lean next to the wall.

What are you doing, ñuha jorrāelagon?

Seemingly decided on something, you swing the door to the staircase, forgoing the elevator. The cameras on each landing track you as you continue to climb upward, panting slightly when you finally reach the entrance to the rooftop.

You take slow, sure steps toward the golden railing. For a moment, you just stand there, seemingly watching the city below.

I have to see you. I have to try. In a split decision, Aemond slinkers out of his room, the party below still unaware of his presence. 

Then he heads up the flight of stairs as you had done, feeling more apprehensive with each step. What do I even say to you? Do you still want to see me? He finally reaches the final landing, and heart in his throat, he pries the door open as silently as possible.

You no longer stand at the railing. Instead, he spies you sitting on the plush seat the two of you shared on that one night. Facing away from the entrance, looking up at the stars. 

Aemond knows that isn’t as it was before. He cannot simply approach you and watch as your eyes immediately welcome the sight of him. It’s not the same, and it is all his fault. He wonders if your heart might still race because of him, or will it have become cold, after all this time?

He draws closer, with each footstep uncertain. But your pull is stronger, taking precedence over all of his worries. 

“I miss you,” is all he can bring himself to say, throwing caution to the wind. You freeze at the sound of his voice. 

Then a shiver runs up his spine as it dawns on him - in his haste to see you, he left his eyepatch in his room below.

-----------------------------

I must be dreaming. The hairs along your arms stand in your shock, and you keep both hands flat on the seat to keep you steady. 

Is it… You start to turn back, but cease all movement when Aemond pleads, “Don’t. Please don’t turn around.”

“Aemond?” your voice is shaky, and you feel a tear threaten to escape. “They said… we all thought…”

“They do not know that I am back yet,” he answers. “Just you.”

“Oh.” Your head is still turned to the side, and you have to fight the urge to simply rise from your seat and face him. You exhale, trying to calm down. When that doesn’t work, you lean back against the seat, and force yourself to count the windows on the building down the road. 

6… 7… 8… 

But the sudden feeling of his hands on your shoulders makes you lose all train of thought.

“Did you miss me?” Aemond asks, standing right behind your seat now, his sweater grazing the back of your head.

Your mind is flooded with thoughts of all that happened between the two of you - the beginning, the brief affair, the end. Is it the end? 

Answer him. “Did I miss you?” you bite your lip, and your brows scrunch in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your expletive makes Aemond take a step back. “I-I’m sorry…”

“I’ve been so worried about you, Aemond!” Your hands bunch up into fists beside you. You did not realize you had all this pent up anger, with the past few months being spent pining. Longing. Yearning. Like some silly little fool. When he didn’t even make any effort to reach out to you, and the most you got from him was that episode outside the bookstore.

“Oh yeah, and what the hell were you doing outside my place of work?” you stand then, and lean against the railing in front of you, careful not to turn and catch a glimpse of him. “You wanted to speak to me? Well, why didn’t you just do that?” You can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding in your chest, and for a moment you become afraid that it might just stop altogether. 

“I did want to speak to you. To see you.” Aemond sighs heavily. “I always want to see you, my darling. You’re all I’ve ever thought about since - ”

“Yeah, right. I bet you did.” You threw the offhand accusation over your shoulder.

“I did,” Aemond swears. “I miss you every day, I -”

His voice is softer than before, and kind of nervous. Your resolve is at risk of breaking, because… Why does Aemond sound… broken?

He finishes, “I just needed some time.”

There are so many more that you want to ask him - What really happened in that accident? Where have you been all this time? What is going on with you and Alys? Where do we truly stand?

But instead you mutter the one thing you are most certain of, “I miss you too.”

Aemond breathes a sigh of relief. He moves to stand behind you, and steps closer. 

Closer. You don’t dare move a muscle, because you just might turn around and forget about his request. He moves closer, until his chest is pressed against you from behind. Closer, until his hands squeeze both of yours on the railing.

You feel Aemond rest his face on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. At this point, he is practically enveloping you. Each breath he takes warms your neck. His thumbs run over your knuckles, and he says, “Are you still angry at me?”

“Should I be?” You lean your head back to rest on his right shoulder. From the corner of your eye, he looks as he always has. Almost ethereal, with his silver-blonde Targaryen hair and sharp, defined features. 

Aemond moves his head slightly toward the left, careful not to reveal the ruined side to you, when he feels your wandering gaze. 

“Please don’t be angry with me,” he pleads. You hum in affirmation, and in a lower voice, he purrs, “Close your eyes, darling.”

You try to ask why, but then you feel his lips lightly press against the nook between your neck and your shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut on their own goddamn volition.

His mouth parts even more, before coming down once again and nipping at your skin. His arms wrap themselves around your waist, and his hold tightens until your entire body is flush against him.

Still, you haven’t seen all of him. 

Your hand reaches up to touch him, and your fingertips graze the side of his face. When your thumb runs over a bit of what must be raised flesh, like some partially healed lesion, Aemond jumps away. At once, you feel the cool evening air hit you, the warmth of his embrace having gone.

“What is - ” you start to ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“Aemond…” you hesitate. What could possibly be so terrible, he won’t even allow me to look at him? “If anything happened to the way you look… it wouldn’t matter to me. You would still be the same boy that I lo - ” The words hitch in your throat, their sentiment heavier than anything you’ve ever said. 

Everything is at a standstill. Aemond does not say a single word, but you know that he understood what you were trying to say. He must.

And how can I even gauge his reaction when I can’t even look at him?

“Aemond?” 

Much to your surprise, his voice is already farther away when he responds with a hurried, “I’ll see you at the ball.” 

You swiftly turn around in your disbelief. Did he just fucking leave? 

The door to the penthouse shuts behind him, and you are left dumbfounded at his actions. The old Aemond would have never done that to you, but what do you know?

Perhaps my Aemond is truly gone.

The ball is coming up next!!! Reader may finally learn to let go of Aemond, or at least give him what he wants - a whole lot of space and time.

Also, reminder - Aemond's injury is still pretty fresh, considering the damage. So no, he hasn't stuck a sapphire in there yet. Imagine how little Aemond looked in episode 7, with angry stitches running down his face, but a bit more healed. His eye socket is still sewn shut, and it still causes him much pain, so go easy on our boy, y'all.

taglist still has some spots left! I've managed to continue it in the comments 🖤

and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, and what you're hoping to read in the next part!!!

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyvik @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

[maxinehufflepuffprincess]

Progress Update

Hello, everyone. I thought I'd post this so that you all know what is in the works and what to expect. Everything below is what I have in my drafts.

The Progress Update will be updated every so often. It can be updated when I've posted something on the list, or if I have a fic to add to the list, so keep your eyes peeled.

Taglist. Masterlist.

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Alice In Borderland.

Individual fics.

Knight in Blue Bikini.

Summary: Kuina gets to be the hero for you, her girlfriend. The damsel in distress. Progress: I'm still plotting this one sadly. I have like the first paragraph done, but we'll see.

Goodbye, My Love.

Summary: You and Karube are engaged. This is a look at your final moments together during the 7 of Hearts game. Progress: I have the plot points written up. But I need to rewatch the episode so I can actually include the game.

Hand in Hand.

Summary: Arisu takes every opportunity to hold your hand. Progress: Plotting.

I Knew I'd Always Stay.

Summary: Niragi is a monster. But you'd stay no matter what. Progress: Plotting.

Drawn to you.

Summary: You meet Banda and Yaba during the Jack of Hearts game. You should stay away, but something about them makes you want to stay. Progress: Plotting.

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Love Line Collection.

Dance with me.

Summary: The boys dance with you. Progress: I found the perfect gif. Oh, and the first sentence done. Yay me. Jokes aside, I have a good idea of how I want this to work.

Ouch.

Summary: Chishiya gets hurt and learns to accept help Progress: Writing slowly.

The Future We Want.

Summary: You three discuss what you want for your relationship when you get home. Progress: Plotting

Like you mean it.

Summary: Smut. That's it. It's you and the boys having fun in bed. Progress: I have an idea. I have some of it written out, but I'm struggling. And I'm really sorry because I'm excited for this. But it's gonna take me longer than I wanted.

Love Line Collection - Family series.

Two Pink Lines.

Summary: A year after the events of the Borderland, you find out you're pregnant. Progress: Halfway through.

Heteropaternal Superfecundation

Summary: You're having twins. One girl and one boy. Progress: Plotting.

Here

Summary: Chishiya and Niragi get to hold your babies for the first time. Progress: Plotting.

Home

Summary: The three of you take the twins home. Progress: Plotting.

Growing Up

Summary: A look at the twins as they grow up. Progress: Plotting.

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Life Line Collection.

Back Off.

Summary: Karube doesn't like how Niragi treats you and Arisu. Progress: I have written down some ideas, and I'm just picking and choosing which would work better.

Sacrifice.

Summary: Arisu agrees to Chishiya's plan. Now it's come to bite the three of you in the ass. Progress: I have ideas written down.

Cuties.

Summary: Kyuma thinks you and your boyfriends are cute together. Progress: The conversation between the trio and Kyuma had been written. Now I just need to write everything else.

Elephants.

Summary: You and your boyfriends take a bath and watch the elephants. Progress: Nothing is written yet.

Elephant Picture.

Summary: You had a picture of you and your boyfriends watching the elephants in the borderlands. So why is it in your jacket pocket when you get home from the hospital? Progress: Plotting.

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Heart and Diamond Collection.

He's Ours.

Summary: You and Chishiya don't like how Niragi is treating Arisu. Progress: Slowly writing.

I Accept.

Summary: Arisu wants to join the plan. Progress: Plotting.

Enjoy The Flirt.

Summary: Chishiya enjoys watching you flirt with Arisu. Progress: Plotting.

Tell Me You Want Us.

Summary: In the safety of your room, Arisu confesses that he wants you and your boyfriend. Progress: I have some of this written up.

Come To Bed.

Summary: You and Chishiya share your bed with Arisu for the first time. Progress: Plotting.

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Weak Hero.

Individual fics.

Math

Summary: Math is really hard. Thankfully, your boyfriend, Si-eun, is ready to help you study. Progress: Plotting.

Hold Me Tight

Summary: Su-ho is feeling tired and stressed. He just wants you to hold him. Progress: Halfway done.

Puppy

Summary: While watching your boyfriend, Gotak, practice, you come across a puppy. Progress: Plotting, but the start is completed.

From Red To Black

Summary: You help Baku dye his hair, which leads to a confession. Progress: Plotting.

Relax, My Love

Summary: You help your boyfriend, Baek-jin, relax after a day of studying and leading the Union Progress: Plotting.

Protect The Glasses

Summary: You hold Seong-je's glasses when he gets in a fight. Progress: Plotting.

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Love At First Fight Collection.

Claw Machine

Summary: You and Su-ho take Si-eun to an arcade. Progress: Slowly writing.

Pretty Picture

Summary: Si-eun comes to your house to study. Su-ho comes to your house to sleep. Progress: I actually have some of this written up.

Hospital Confessions

Summary: You and Su-ho confess your feelings for Si-eun when he brings you food. Progress: Plotting.

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All Of Us Are Dead

Individual fics.

Hands

Summary: You and Cheongsan take every excuse to hold hands. Progress: Plotting.

Knight In Black Blazer

Summary: You accidentally trip; thankfully, Su-hyeok is there to catch you. Progress: Plotting.

Hands Off

Summary: You're very protective of Gyeong-su. Progress: Plotting.

Study Date

Summary: You study with Nam-ra often. This time, you decide to confess how you really feel. Progress: Plotting.

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Not So Secret Collection.

Secret Kisses

Summary: You and your boyfriends sneak kisses throughout the day at school. Progress: Slowly writing.

Date

Summary: You and your boyfriends go to Cheong-san's for a date and some fried chicken. Progress: Plotting.

Practice

Summary: You have cheer practice, and the boys enjoy watching you. Progress: Plotting.

Outbreak

Summary: Zombies are running around the school, and all the boys can think of is getting you and each other to safety. Progress: Plotting.

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Stray Kids

Individual fics.

Watching the Sunset

Summary: You and Hyunjin watch the sunset on the beach with a cheap bottle of wine. Progress: Almost finished.

Pipp the Bear

Summary: Felix buys you a teddy bear. Progress: Started.

British Crowds

Summary: You show the boys how great a British crowd can be. Progress: Started.

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Taglist: Thank you for supporting me.

@thecheshireprincess @mocchii-writes @moonchild323232 @potato-vagina @monkey4lifer @kimsrie @so-dramatic1 @28361573 @onceinablueberrymoon @spanish-delulu-23

[utterlyvertigo]

A Mother’s Intuition…

“Surprise, my lady!” The sarcastic undertone gave Rio the air of wanting to be pummelled into the leaves. Agatha ripped the flower from her hand and slung it onto the road’s murky floor. Agatha went to scream, but it was interrupted by a low rumbling from the earth. Jen was the first to notice a hand, it grasped at Rio’s ankle. She audibly yelped and jumped back. The hand was bony, but youthful, its nails overdue a new coat of polish. The figure who pulls herself up appeared to be young, somewhere older than "Teen", yet clearly younger than Alice. “You bitch!” Agatha screamed upon recognising the figure, and she dove towards Rio, only to be held back by the rest of the coven, pleading desperately for Agatha to stay calm.

Rio picks the dropped flower up and offers a hand up to the girl. In what was likely an attempt to soften the blow of the situation, the girl addresses the rest of the coven. “I suppose two heads are better than one?” Agatha wasn’t soothed, she was agape. Then washed with emotion. Agatha took the girl into her arms. “Cassandra.” She greeted. Mere seconds later, she strode off in a tantrum.

“I thought you’d said she gave up her child?” Teen whispered to Jen, his tone unintentionally accusatory. “She gave her son up. That’s her daughter. Nobody touches a hair on that girls head. I have no idea why she’s here, what she’s doing.” Jen muttered back. “I… I’m gonna go check on Agatha.

Agatha was a good few boot strides further than expected, attempting to rein in her fury. “The… dangerous and charismatic lady is back. Are you okay…?” Teen asked, tentatively. “She has my daughter. You do the maths!” Agatha snipped. “Nobody "has" me. I’m not a puppy.” Cassandra stated. She’d taken it on herself to follow the boy, seeing as there was nought better to do. They couldn’t progress until Agatha had calmed down. Agatha sighed. “I know that! But did you really have to go to her?” She hissed, sounding remarkably like an oversized toddler requiring a nap.

“You said you’d come find me. After Westview. You never came! You threw me halfway across New Jersey and you never came back.” Cassandra accused, “I went to who I could! And it would have been nice to know who my other parent was seeing as she’s-” “Stop.” Agatha silenced. “She’s what?” Teen asked. Agatha didn’t respond. She kept walking, and the rest of the coven followed suit, Rio skipping happily along, as though this wasn’t some omen of doom. Cassandra knew better than to chase after her mother during a mood like this, so she hung back, letting Teen be the firewall.

Lilia, Alice and Jen had been hanging back too, staying a distance between the others, because of the palpable tension. “Hi…” Cassandra said, laced with clear awkwardness. Jen was the first to mutter a non committal “Hello” back. “So you’re Lilia, Jennifer and Alice, aren’t you?” She questioned. Alice perked up, “How do you know that?” She asked. “Leggings, Lawsuit and your Mother.” Cassandra admitted, respectively gesturing to each witch. “I’m Cassandra… by the way.” She added.

“Ace of Cups.” Lilia muttered.

“Pardon?” Cassandra asked. “She does that sometimes. We don’t really know why. Or where she goes.” Alice whispered, with a kind smile. That didn’t much help, but Cassandra had a feeling questioning anything on the road would end up with the same lack of understanding. So she just nodded.

And they went down down down the road.

————

Hey gang! Whilst we wait for the poll to decide which chapter of lore we’re learning about next, I’ll leave both options in the drafts and give you this little bit of writing. Hope you love it xx

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Aemond Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen x reader (platonic)

-As you are placed in his arms Aemond can hardly believe it. Even though he knew it was his duty to father children he never thought it would bring him so much joy. And now he had this beautiful baby girl. Immediately his protective instincts will kick in. As a baby very few people will be allowed to hold you. Only your mother, Alicent, Helena, Otto and himself will be allowed to hold you. A guard will be appointed to protect you from day one. He is very involved in your upbringing. After the neglect of his father Aemond strives to be different.

It had been a horribly long day. Aegon had been hung over the entirety of the council, causing the lords to share looks. As far as Aemond was concerned his elder brother was a lost cause. Aemond arrived at the door to his daughters nursery. He opened it to see two maids and Helena playing with the baby. Y/n had only just started to crawl. Her little head turned and she made a happy gurgling noise upon seeing her father. She made towards him, but at not being able to make it there fast enough started to fuss. "Hello my little dragon." He bundled his daughter into his arms, her head resting on his chest. The maids and his sister melted at the sight. Aemond looked at the look on his sisters face. "What?" "You just look so happy. I am happy for you, little brother."

-You are getting that dragon egg. No ifs or buts. He will not have his daughter subjected to the same torment he faced as a child. Either you are getting an egg or already hatched dragon. Aemond will absolutely take you on dragonrides. You will also be well acquainted with your heritage. He sometimes speaks to you in Valyrian to help you learn.

"Daddy!" Y/n jumped up and down happily clapping her hands in excitement. Crawling out of the dragons egg was a milky white dragon. Its cry was sharp as its claws. Aemond picked up his daughter and hugged her tightly, relief surging through him. His daughter would be a dragonrider after all.

-He will be very involved with your upbringing. He will carefully pick out a teacher who will be the best fit for you. It will not just be the normal subjects a lady of your standing is expected to take. Philosopher, medicine, sword fighting, advanced math, history and languages. He might even teach you himself in the early days. He expects all his children to be diligent in their studies. Aemond is strict in this area. He will not have you slaking off in this area. You are a Targaryen and he expects you to live up to the name.

"Hmm." Aemond's eye follows the little hand dragging itself across the rough parchment. Y/n was getting better with her Valyrian. At six Y/n was able to read a sentence with decent fluency. His mother sat in a chair near by sewing. A tranquility had settled itself in the room as everyone went about their business. Aemond had found a Valyrian translation of a story his daughter liked. Y/n got towards the end of the page and looked up at her father, looking for praise. "Good job, my little dragon." He pressed a kiss onto his daughter's hair.

-He will absolutely not allow you near the Velarion boys or any of their children. It doesn't matter how well meaning they are. This especially is the case with Lucerys/his children. If there is an occasion where you are going to be in close proximity then either he or Sir Criston will be near by.

Aemond was speaking with his sister near the Iron Throne. Everyone was in a good mood. But the brief spell of ease that temporarily settled over everyone was ripped apart, at least for Aemond, when he caught his daughter talking to Lucerys Velarion, Strong in Aemond's mind, and Lucerys's only son. Daerion Velarion was heir to Driftmark as both the son of Lucerys and Rhaena. He was handsome, athletic, intelligent and a fine catch for any young lady. Except that was never going to happen. Not in a million years and certainly not on Aemond Targaryen's ever enduring watch. In a moment Aemond was by his daughters side. "Pardon me nephew, but my daughter has more pressing matters." He placed a hand on his daughters shoulder.