#{ ;; Words of Wisdom...? | AD Speaks }

[aureumdraconeus]

It's the end of the year, so let's get some new threads finally started. Like this for a starter

[orion-my-rion]

i cannot keep quiet about this anymore.

if you're seeing this, check the reblogs or my "languages" tag for an addition!!

if you're in the US or Canada and interested in learning a language using a free app please get a library card and download MANGO. it's very good and extremely free with a library card (there are many public libraries and universities using the service, so make an account and use the search feature here to find out if there's one near you).

mango currently has 72 available languages and dialects (that's right! different courses for french or canadian french! spanish or latam spanish!). it's set up basically like an audiobook with text. the idea is that the narrator explains the words while you read, and you repeat after them or say the translation out loud when prompted. there's a daily review where you go through flashcards. you can also use the flashcards at your leisure and create your own. at the end of each chapter there's a listening comprehension quiz and a reading comprehension quiz. i cannot emphasize how effective this all is. and it's free with a card.

if you're not in the US or Canada and/or looking for something more like duolingo (don't use duolingo btw tldr they fired translators and replaced them with "ai"), then try BUSUU! it only has 14 languages atm but the lessons are really descriptive and effective. it also has a feature where you can correct other people's open-ended speaking/typing exercises. you set your fluent languages, and exercises by people learning those languages will appear in your feed for you to correct. you can even add others as friends! and, much like duolingo, it has a streak and leaderboard system for you to strive for, minus the guilt-tripping owl.

busuu is free (you watch ads to unlock lessons and they're all skippable after like five seconds), although it also has paid premium/plus versions (i don't use the paid version—the language courses are available for free, and the ad system is Really unobtrusive).

so that's my wisdom for the day. mango and busuu. please check them out :)

[aventurineswife]

Any thoughts on Mydei and Phainon poly relationship headcanons?

PhaiDei Poly Relationship HCs

Tags: Phainon x Reader x Mydei, Polyamory, Mutual Respect, Teasing/Flirting, Supportive Relationships, Combat Training Bonding, Gentle Affection, Character Growth, Emotional Vulnerability.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive themes, Mild violence (due to combat focus), Intense emotions (especially related to Mydei’s fiery temperament and Phainon’s duty), Potential emotional turmoil (due to the characters’ pasts and conflicts).

A/N: might be bit ooc so sorry for that ☹️🙏

Phainon is a naturally honorable and considerate individual, often thinking of others first. In a poly relationship with Mydei and you, he would be the grounding force, always making sure that everyone feels heard and valued. His leadership skills would shine in keeping harmony between the three of you, offering unwavering support to both Mydei and you.

Mydei, with his fierce temper and hunger for vengeance, may seem like the wild card in the relationship. However, when not in combat, he has a softer side that craves understanding and trust. You would be the one who helps him manage his emotions, while Phainon could offer wisdom and patience in moments when Mydei feels conflicted.

The relationship would balance strength and care, as Phainon and Mydei would both respect each other's skills but in different ways. Phainon’s refined elegance would counter Mydei’s raw intensity, and you could be the bridge, embodying traits of both diplomacy and passion to balance out any tensions between the two.

As warriors united by duty and fate, the three of you could often train together, sparring with each other to push your limits. These training sessions would be a blend of fierce competitiveness and playful teasing, with Phainon trying to keep the mood light while Mydei pushes for victory. You might enjoy the challenge, adding a competitive edge that fuels the trio’s camaraderie.

Each of you shares a deep respect for the others’ combat prowess and life experiences. You all understand the value of each other’s strength, whether in battle or in overcoming your respective burdens. This respect would foster a strong, intimate connection, where each one knows how to lean on the others without feeling overwhelmed.

Phainon, with his gentle nature, might be the one who expresses affection in softer, more tender moments. Meanwhile, Mydei’s affection would come with a more intense, passionate energy—often seen in private moments. You could find yourself the recipient of both forms of affection, feeling cherished by both warriors, each in their own way.

As the trio grows closer, there would definitely be moments of teasing—Phainon might gently flirt with you, while Mydei challenges him with bold remarks, sparking a playful rivalry. The banter between the three of you would be filled with cheeky moments of affection, leading to a dynamic that is both lighthearted and full of tension.

Despite your differences, there would be a deep, unspoken bond between the three of you. Mydei’s need for vengeance and Phainon’s calm demeanor might seem to conflict, but through shared experiences and mutual understanding, you would form a connection that doesn’t require words. Your quiet moments together—whether in battle or during your downtime—would speak volumes.

As the relationship deepens, there would be an undeniable chemistry between the three of you, with passionate nights fueled by the shared journey you undertake. Phainon’s refined touch would meet Mydei’s fiery passion, with you being the center of this dynamic—a thrilling combination of tenderness and intensity. There might be moments when all three of you share a quiet, heated glance, knowing that the tension between you will soon unravel in your private moments.

They ain't even out properly and people are already making plenty of fics and reqs about them 😭🙏

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (aegon in love)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Pairing: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: aegon has a cold

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Alicent Hightower stands at the entrance of your solar, her brow furrowed, a determined gleam in her eyes. You can see her reflection in the mirror before you as you sit, surrounded by your ladies-in-waiting, a soft murmur of conversation filling the room. They are laughing at something you said, oblivious to the instant change that thickens as Alicent steps further inside.

The room quiets. Your ladies glance nervously at each other, sensing the charged air, but you remain poised, turning your head only slightly, as though the Queen Mother's arrival is of little concern.

"Your Grace," you greet her warmly, but there’s an undercurrent of something sharper beneath your voice. "How lovely of you to visit." You flash a charming smile, but the glint in your eyes betrays your amusement. Alicent’s sudden need to speak with you is, of course, no coincidence.

"Leave us," Alicent says to your ladies, her tone stern but not harsh. They all rise quickly, dropping curtsies before scampering out of the room, not wishing to be caught in whatever this confrontation might become.

You rise slowly, smoothing your gown, a rich crimson with golden embroidery that glistens in the candlelight, making you look every bit the queen you aspire to be. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Grace?" you ask, maintaining your sweet tone, though the question drips with false innocence.

Alicent steps closer, her lips pressed thin. She’s trying to appear calm, but you can sense the desperation simmering beneath her composure. "I wanted to speak with you," she begins, her voice softer than it was with your ladies, the sort of voice she uses when trying to remind others of her maternal presence. "About Aegon."

"Of course," you reply, as if it’s the most natural topic in the world. "I was just speaking of him with my ladies. His strength and wisdom are unparalleled, don’t you think?" You watch the flicker of annoyance cross her face, savoring the way her attempt to steer the conversation in her favor is already faltering.

Alicent shifts, clasping her hands in front of her, trying to appear serene. "Y/N, I understand that Aegon values your… opinions. And I do not wish to interfere. But…" She hesitates, searching for the right words, something that will make you listen to her. "He is still young, and he needs guidance. Proper guidance. From those who truly have his best interests at heart."

You raise an eyebrow, the smile never leaving your lips. "Proper guidance?" you echo, as though you are truly considering the meaning of her words. "But who could possibly care more for Aegon’s best interests than his own wife-to-be?" Your voice is light, playful, but the implication is clear. I am the one at his side now. Not you.

Alicent’s mouth tightens. "As his mother, I’ve always sought what is best for him. I’ve been by his side since he was born. I raised him. No one knows Aegon as I do."

You tilt your head slightly, stepping closer so that your presence looms just a bit. "Oh, I don’t doubt that, Your Grace. You have been a wonderful mother to him, no one would dare dispute that." You pause, letting the praise sink in, then adding with a soft, calculated edge, "But he’s no longer a boy, is he? Aegon is a king now, and kings must make their own decisions, form their own judgments." You take a step back, shrugging slightly. "It’s what all rulers must do."

Alicent stiffens, the tension rolling off her in waves. You see her jaw clench as she speaks, trying to keep her voice steady. "And what decisions has he made under your… influence?"

You laugh lightly, almost as though she’s told a joke. "Influence? Your Grace, I only seek to support Aegon. To give him the love and devotion he so richly deserves." You look at her knowingly, your eyes flicking up to meet hers. "A man like Aegon needs to feel appreciated, cherished for all he does."

Alicent's expression tightens further, but you can see the cracks forming. She knows what you're doing, yet she can’t stop you. "Y/N, you must understand, this is not about appreciation. This is about responsibility. You cannot simply—"

You cut her off with a gentle smile, stepping toward her with the grace of a predator that knows its prey is cornered. "Alicent," you say softly, dropping the formalities. "You needn't worry. I’m not here to replace you. You’ll always be his mother." The way you say it feels like a reassurance that holds no real comfort. "But I think we both know Aegon is happiest when he is free to act without feeling… pressured." Your eyes flicker with amusement. "And he seems so at ease with me, wouldn't you agree?"

Alicent looks like she’s about to snap, her eyes burning with frustration, but she holds herself back, her voice now low, tight with warning. "You don’t understand what it means to be close to power like this. It is not about flattery and affection. It is about duty, about making the hard decisions, even when they are painful."

You place a hand on your chest, pretending to be wounded. "Oh, Alicent, I understand more than you think. It’s just that I approach things… differently." You let your hand fall, turning toward the window to look out over the courtyard, where Aegon can be seen laughing with a group of knights. "Aegon deserves to be happy, doesn’t he? And I make him happy." You glance back at her, your smile serene. "Isn’t that what matters?"

For a moment, Alicent just stares at you, her hands clenched so tightly you think her knuckles might turn white. But she says nothing. She can’t. Because as much as she might want to fight you on this, she knows you’re right in one regard—Aegon is happy with you. And that happiness is what keeps her from lashing out, from saying what she truly wants to say.

Finally, Alicent exhales sharply, turning on her heel. "Enjoy your day," she says stiffly before sweeping from the room, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

The moment she’s gone, you let out a small, satisfied sigh, turning back to the mirror. Your reflection smiles back at you, victorious. Alicent may have been the one to raise Aegon, but now? Now he is yours.

The courtyard of the Red Keep bustles with life, knights sparring and squires scurrying about, tending to their duties. Aegon stands in the middle of it all, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he watches the knights with a bemused grin, half-interested, half-distracted. A goblet of wine is clutched lazily in one hand, because of course he’s found a way to turn a casual morning stroll into an excuse for drinking.

"Did you see that, Ser Criston?" Aegon calls out, watching as two knights clash swords with a loud clang. "Not bad, but no match for me." He laughs, though he’s never been particularly interested in actual swordplay. He much prefers the idea of being a great fighter, especially when the wine is flowing.

Ser Criston Cole offers a tight-lipped smile, as he always does when Aegon starts boasting about things everyone knows aren’t true. "Indeed, Your Grace," he says, ever the dutiful Kingsguard, though even his patience is wearing thin.

Aegon takes another sip of wine, glancing toward the entrance to the courtyard just in time to see his younger brother, Aemond, striding purposefully toward him. Aemond, with his ever-straight posture and single piercing eye, always looks like he’s about to declare war on someone. Today is no different. He approaches with his usual air of superiority, his long coat billowing behind him as though he’s a dark storm about to sweep through.

"Aemond!" Aegon calls out cheerfully, raising his goblet in greeting. "You’ve arrived just in time. I was telling the knights here about how truly lucky I am." He lowers his voice conspiratorially, a grin spreading across his face. "To have Y/N as my future wife."

Aemond’s expression doesn’t change. He stops in front of Aegon, his eye narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to determine how much wine his brother has already consumed this morning. "Lucky, you say?" His tone is dry, unimpressed.

Aegon chuckles, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Aemond isn’t remotely interested in this conversation. "Oh, absolutely. She’s the most beautiful woman in the realm, wouldn’t you agree?" He claps a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, completely missing the way his younger brother stiffens. "And clever too. The way she speaks to me—like no one else ever has. It’s like she knows me better than I know myself." He sighs, lost in the fantasy of it all. "Aegon the Conqueror himself would be jealous, I swear."

Aemond blinks slowly, as if processing the absurdity of what he’s just heard. "Yes, I’m sure the original Aegon would be incredibly envious of your arrangement," he replies, his voice laced with sarcasm. His gaze flickers toward Ser Criston, who wisely keeps his face neutral, though one can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

But Aegon is far too enamored to notice any of it. "Oh, Aemond, you just don’t understand. Y/N… she’s perfect. Beautiful, charming, sweet… and she’s so attentive to me." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "She calls me her king. All the time. Every morning, every night… my king." His eyes sparkle with pride as if this is the pinnacle of all achievements.

Aemond’s eye twitches, just the tiniest bit, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. "I’m sure she does," he mutters, clearly unimpressed by the idea of his brother being doted upon like some pampered pet. "How fortunate for you."

Aegon nods enthusiastically, taking another sip of wine, his cheeks flushed with both alcohol and excitement. "It’s like she worships me," he says, completely missing the biting edge to Aemond’s tone. "I swear, no woman has ever made me feel this way before. I can’t wait for the wedding. She’ll be my queen soon enough."

Aemond crosses his arms, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "Your queen," he repeats flatly, though the way he says it makes it sound more like a burden than a blessing. "And what exactly will she bring to this… royal arrangement of yours? Other than your own inflated ego?"

Aegon, completely unbothered by the jab, shrugs. "Love, devotion, all that. She just gets me, you know? It’s as if she was made for me. And gods, the way she speaks to me… she’s so… warm." He sighs contentedly, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Unlike some other women around here." He glances sideways, clearly referencing their mother, though he’s too drunk to bother hiding it.

Aemond’s lips thin into a line. "She manipulates you, brother," he says sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Or are you too blind to see that?"

Aegon blinks at him, confused, then bursts into laughter. "Manipulates me? Nonsense! She adores me. Why would she ever want to manipulate me when she can just… you know… bask in my presence?" He gestures to himself with a flourish, as if he’s presenting a grand prize.

Aemond pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly frustrated. "You are hopeless," he mutters under his breath.

But Aegon, ever oblivious, just grins at him. "Hopelessly in love, more like." He sways slightly, his eyes glazed over with more than just affection. "Ah, Y/N… my beautiful lioness…"

Aemond looks at him with something resembling pity, then shakes his head, clearly done with this conversation. "Just… try not to embarrass yourself at court later," he says before turning on his heel and walking away, the stiff set of his shoulders making it clear he’s already resigned to Aegon doing exactly that.

Aegon watches him go, then glances at Ser Criston, still grinning like a lovesick fool. "He’s just jealous, isn’t he?" he says, winking. "Who wouldn’t be, with a woman like mine?"

Ser Criston gives him a measured nod, his expression betraying nothing. "Of course, Your Grace."

And with that, Aegon takes another swig of wine, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

[queers-gambit]

The Strength in Honor [ part 1 of 3 ]

prompt: ( requested ) embarking on a marital affair with your older sister's husband. strength to those with honor.

pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 7.3k+

note: welcome back, my Roman Empire; my OG muse -> second note: author's only seen both movies once so AU timeline 'cause wonky brain is wonky

warnings: spoilers! AU timeline, kinda reader insert? flashbacks, reader knew Maximus, Aurelius reader, essentially nicknamed reader, cheating, sneaking around on your sister / family angst, depiction of secret abortions, romance, smut, NSFW, is this "feral" idfk, cursing, some implied age gap, height difference, use of Y/N, set up for a dramatic part two that will not be necessary to read, author interchanges Muse's names on purpose, drama, talk of impregnating reader, relationship angst, established relationship, very brief depiction of injury / blood / medical phenomenon (tending to Lucius' cut, putting in a stitch).

part two: read here part three: read here

Year 180 AD

Blood of Germanic natives still stained under his nails, armor latched tight, sheen of sweat cooling on his brow as the heat of the fire's flames he stared into licked his knees. There was confusion marring his thoughts, brows knit towards his newly broken nose that ringed his nostrils with dried bloody flakes. Marcus Acacius was faced with an impossible decision and prayed the flames before him would reveal any truth.

A heavy hand clapped his shoulder, startling the young soldier. "At ease," a deep, baritone voice rumbled in amusement; General Maximus Decimus Meridius shuffling around his comrade a moment to take a seat on the fallen tree trunk a foot or so from Marcus.

"General," Marcus greeted.

"It's late, soldier."

Maximus watched Marcus glance up to the night sky, blinking thrice before nodding with overturned, pursed lips noting, "So it would seem." His gaze returned to the flames, wondering, "Does sleep elude you, too, General?"

"Well enough," Maximus confirmed. "Though I am oft haunted by the events on the battlefield. You've a different look about you tonight."

"Am I that transparent?"

Maximus snorted, admitting, "No. In truth, I overheard what the Emperor offered you. What an honor, my friend."

Marcus nodded absently, agreeing almost inaudibly, "An honor..."

"Do I detect a hint of distain?"

Marcus looked up sharply, "Of course not, General, I did not intend to sound - "

"Be at ease, Marcus, my friend," Maximus chuckled, "we are alone here, you may speak freely. Come, tell me why I had to scour the camp to locate you. Why does the proposal to the daughter of the Emperor send you into isolation?"

Marcus sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees; the flames silent in their wisdom, only spewing muted whispers of ash. "I love her," the accented soldier spoke quietly, sharing his secret with the fire.

Maximus sighed, "Lucilla is a woman of great beauty - "

"With respect, General," Marcus interrupted, turning to look at Maximus with near glassy eyes, "but while Lucilla is, indeed, beautiful; I fell in love with Venus."

Now, General Maximus smiled brightly, genuinely, softly identifying your name, musing, "The People's Princess."

Marcus chuckled, "Mine own Morning and Evening Star."

"One helluva woman."

"I'll say - she kneed me upon our first meeting," Marcus grimaced, hand to his crotch in phantom pain.

"Ah," Maximus laughed boisterously, "sounds like her. A true gem of a lady, rivaled by none."

"The fact that she even looked at me again after that..." Marcus had a far off look, one Maximus recognized well as one he adorned during his own affair with Lucilla. "Let alone that she... She loves me, too, Maximus. I know she's young, but what a feat to have her love. Yet, now..."

"Yet now the Emperor would have you marry his widowed Lucilla instead," Maximus finished, recalling the conversation he heard. "He needs an answer by morning, when you are to ship off once more to bring together his idea of Rome. The timing is... Less than ideal, I'll admit."

"How can I tell the Emperor no?" The soldier begged his General, almost startling him. "Maximus, please, you say you are my friend - please - how can I say no to marrying the Emperor's widowed daughter, and in the same breath, ask to marry his youngest? The very embodiment of Venus herself - whom all men and women covet?"

Maximus sighed and reached out to grab the solider's shoulder, giving a small rustle while asking, "Well, what did you tell the Emperor?"

"That he honors me with such an offer."

"And are you a man of honor, Marcus Acacius?"

"I endeavor to be."

Maximus sighed deeply, giving his man's shoulder a harder, more meaningful shake, "Then honor our Emperor - honor Rome - and accept his proposal. Lucilla's boy will need a father."

With one last smack, Maximus dropped his hand from Marcus just as the wood burning into embers crackled and hissed as if to input its opinion. Neither man listened.

"How am I to tell Y/N?" Marcus asked desperately. "The woman who loves me when I am nobody, with nothing? Who supported all I've done or wanted to do? It'll break her heart."

Maximus snorted in amusement, shocking Marcus, quickly assuring, "Ah. Do not underestimate her, she knows best what is expected of each of us, what our duties must be and where loyalties lie. Worry not, she will understand - better than any, of that, I can promise."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because she once told me..." The two leaned in, Maximus gripping Marcus by the back of the neck to intimately hush, "There is Strength in Honor. And I know no stronger woman than she. Minerva in Venus' body, eh?"

16 years later Year 196 AD

You were draped in sheer white fabric, latched by shining belts and broaches of glimmering gold to match the gem-crusted jewelry dangling from your neck, wrists, and earrings. Different sized rings sat on freshly manicured fingers, moisturized in the finest of oils, a delicately crafted circlet of ivy crowned hair coiled in ringlets.

You waited in the ranks of other persons of high society ready to greet the procession of officers returning from their gruesome efforts abroad. Despite your position in society, you were - unfortunately - still a woman and women were never listened to; so, you leaned into your peer-appointed high-societal ranking and did your best to influence the Senators of the Republic. It wasn't exactly hard, being the People's Venus, the People's Princess, the People's Empress, the Should-Be Empress, or even the Never Empress - a nickname you weren't so fond of. You were the voice of the people and most had enough sense to tolerate you, else risk the wrath of the whole of the city in riots.

Twin Emperors Geta and Caracalla knew to keep you close, a symbol of peace and prosperity to the people; a puppet on strings, free for them to do or command as they pleased with no complaint from you since your only safety net, your father, Marcus Aurelius, has long since passed. Yet, despite their vivaciously open sexual appetite, the Twins never dared touch or disrespect you by soiling your innocence - hence the symbolic white drapes you wore, being unmarried. Little did anyone know, with the incineration of your safety net from your father's death, anew shall be woven.

When the heroes of Rome returned, you were called upon to greet the soldiers - and their officers, including the General. Floral petals snowed from the sky, and from your elevated position, watched as the love of your life was charted through the city on a chariot - wearing pristine matching white.

He waved to the crowds, honored by the hearty reception thrown to celebrate both his return and victory. You were merely relieved at the sight of him - whole, no visible wounds, and most importantly, alive. You were part of the welcoming party, a face people expected to see as despite not being married to either Emperor, they considered you their Empress. Something your older sister, Lucilla, did not particularly like - yet would never voice.

You waved from a private balcony, greeting the people cheering for their returning warriors. While a symbol of purity, white also symbolized victory - two sides of your coin, as cocky as that may sound. To the public, your innocence was still intact and yet, maintained secret hold of the man you loved. You slowly strolled along the banister, keeping par with the chariot hosting General Marcus Acacius, his eyes finding yours and holding for several long moments. You rounded into the palace's courtyard, waiting in the wings and simply watching Marcus ascend the stairs to greet the Emperors and briefly detail his successful campaign abroad.

You watched from the crowd of Senators, eyeing the General subtly to suss out any smaller injury he might've sported; ignoring the fact that his wife, your sister, was absent. After he properly greeted Emperors Geta and Caracalla, and presented the trophies (or spoils) of war, he was dismissed with a fresh, weeping cut to his neck. You felt something stir in your gut, making sure to catch Marcus' eye again before smirking and slinking away to attend your royal appearances.

Due to your father's legendary influence, corrupted brother's demise, and sister's emotional distress, the people turned to you for guidance and wisdom; part of why Geta kept you so close, having an unhealthy attachment to you as Commodus once did Lucilla. He did not mind your abrupt departure, watching you exit the royal grounds with your usual set of guards to begin daily duties around the city.

As selfish as it sounds, this was how you kept your place in a kingdom no longer your own: by getting your hands dirty. To work alongside citizens; to carry your own weight and soil pretty white fabric to facilitate a deep love from the people. Your most popular implementation was the law that food from the palace shall be sent to orphanages first, then what was left to the less fortunate. Whereas the Senators viewed your charity as a sign of weakness, Geta only allowed it because of his unsettling obsession, but you cared little for their opinions as it meant the food was not a waste and you secured your safety amongst the citizens of Rome. They knew your face, could voice their woes, found a friend in you rather than a politician.

Princess of the People, indeed.

Knowing the upcoming Games would be the official celebration of Rome and today was to be used to update the politicians on their success, you ended the day by mixing and mingling with the other persons of influence before returning to the private, personal villa armed with men hand selected by the General himself. They bid you a good evening as you passed, swiping the shaw from your shoulders with a heavy sigh of fake playing nice with the Emperors and others.

Their craven ways rubbed you wrong after your brother, Commodus, wrongfully usurped your father's throne after his passing; leading to a broken bloodline you were unsure how to fix. Though you understood why, you tried not to judge your sister too harshly on her decision to send your nephew, Lucius, away. Though it was a struggle the longer you lingered in the company of the Twin Emperors.

"My lady," a voice greeted, startling you enough to gasp and stumble back into a spare table in the middle of the room you passed through; knocking over a golden bowl of fruit.

"Marcus!" You snapped, seeing him remove his cloak's hood from the doorway he'd entered from with a smirk. He neared you as you caught your breath, hand to your chest, demanding, "Why have you come? What're you - you - you cannot be here, Marcus!"

"'Cannot'?" He repeated, slowly stalking down the stone stairs. "I do not remember asking permission, Princess."

"Yet still, you are denied, General," you scoffed, glancing at the other (empty) known entrances. "You risk everything by coming here now. Why? Have you not had your fill of adrenaline?"

"I had to see you, there is nowhere else I am to be but here with you, my lady. Are you displeased with me?" Acacius questioned, stepping in front of you with his hands once clasped in front of him, lifting to grip your waist.

"Never," you breathed, petting down his armored chest, "but my sister will be expecting you - you should not be here. If anyone were to discover us, there's no excuse we could offer."

Marcus sighed deeply, "With respect, my star, Lucilla is not my priority. She did not bother to attend the ceremony, it isn't like she's wanton to see me." His forehead rested on yours, "But I could not bare another second without you - "

You silenced him by lifting onto your toes and searing a kiss to his lips; holding the back of his neck for balance. His calloused hands tightened on your ribs, groaning in relief when your lips spread and both tongues instantly began their slippery dance of dominance. Nails raked into the short curls at the base of his head, other hand drifting to hook around his shoulders.

Waiting for a natural lull, you pulled back, "I've missed you."

"I swear to you, no more than I've missed you," he hissed, hands dropping to trace the curve of your bottom only to grip both thighs and heave so you were pushed back onto the round table the fruit toppled from. He didn't have to, but still spread your legs to stand between them; mouths open, tongues licking into one another. "I came straight here - after Geta dismissed me," his lips latched to your neck, licking, biting, careful not to leave any visible marks, "I had to, I needed to see you. I cannot stand the distance that curates between us."

"As much as I want to take our time, Marcus, you know someone will come looking, my love," you cautioned, sliding closer to reach for his many belts and latches. He began to assist you.

"Being why I chose your guards as I did," he chuckled, both moving frantically to shed his armor. "They're discreet, they'll hold off whoever may come and give us enough warning, too."

"Even from your secret tunnels?" You teased, working now on your broaches and belts as he stripped bare.

"Even there," he assured, nudging your hands away to bunch together the skirts of your dress and bundle them around your waist. "Thank the Gods," he breathed when your bare cunt was exposed to the cool night air; fingernails raking down the outside of your thighs to caress either knee to spread you further.

"I love you, Marcus, but if you're not in me in the next 30 seconds, I swear to every God - "

His laugh was borderline cruel, taking his free cock in hand to pump himself to full life. "Let me see you," he demanded, settling your hips at the very edge of the table while you freed your chest from the confines of your dress. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, lathering his cockhead at the entrance of your progressively dampening cunt. Marcus' upper lip snarled as he took a moment to swipe himself from cunt to asshole, back, again, then notching and checking, "Good?"

"Please," you begged with a nod, yanking him by the shoulders so he pushed fully into you until sheathed like his sword deep within the enemy. Yet your wet warmth was no foe, but a succulent vixen that left his head spinning, heart hammering; totally addicted and coming back for more. Yet the way he instantly chose a feral rhythm to pound into you on a random table instead of the bed would've made any spectator think he was working out some kind of anger. Though hard to explain, you still felt every inch of his care, devotion, and love, but felt just as panicked to fuck him after his long trip away.

His movements left you absolutely speechless, repeatedly impaling you and feeling as if you were being fucked through the table; only able to hang on for dear life. "Oh, fuck the Gods," he panted, lips finding purchase along your collarbones, "needed this, needed this so fuckin' bad - just needed you. You feel heavenly, my love, shit, how're you this perfect?"

You could barely respond, "I have the perfect man to impress."

"Never need worry about that," he chuckled, coat of sweat layering both of your skin. "Fuckin' obsessed with you, my star, oh, fuck, just look at you," his one hand rose to curl around your neck, head instantly falling back to let your hair tickle down your spine. "My Venus, my perfect lady, my love," he grunted, guiding your torso back to rest on the face of the table so he could paw messily at your bouncing breasts.

"Mar-Marcus," you begged, writhing from the pleasure that now mounted after the subtle pain passed. Even after losing your virginity, going so long without your man's cock left you tighter than usual. And his vigorous speed and rhythm didn't help soothe the pain; but you didn't complain, part of you even enjoying that pinch, the stretch, the burn of him filling you. "Baby," you rushed, "fuck, you feel so good - don't stop."

"If I had it my way, this is how we'd live," he grit, humping into you with shorter strokes as his balls tightened with his mounting orgasm. "With me in you, in this tight, wet cunt, all the time. I'd never leave, never be apart from you," his mouth fell to your tit, biting harshly at the pebbled nipple before soothing his tongue over the sensitive flesh. "We'd go missing for days," he mumbled, lifting his mouth to your neck, "never to be seen, just lost in one another. I'll get us a country house," he promised over your lips, "give us remote, total privacy. Get away from this toxic city, be at peace, have free reign to fuck where we please. Everywhere, anywhere - ah, shit, love, I'm there - I'm there - fuck - "

"Please, please," you encouraged, nails digging into his biceps, "I need you to cum, Marcus, please, my love, cum in me, it's been too long - fuck, I need you to fill me."

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, "and watch you grow with our child in the countryside."

"Yes, please, please," you cried, toying with your own pleasure pearl to bring about your release. "All of it, Marcus, please, I need it - I need you - I need us - forever, please."

He reached to caress your cheek, the other planting your sweaty hips, "You'll never be without me. I love you - I've always loved you, for my life. All my life, it's always been you."

You moaned from the emotional intimacy, pressing harder on your clit as you reached your end in time for Marcus to find his own. With heavy grunts, he gave three direct, sharp thrusts as he milked himself for his worth in you. You were perfectly out of breath and fucked-out, holding him to you as he folded at the waist - still pulsing and twitching deep inside you - to recover from his simultaneous climax.

"Holy shit," you whispered, now lovingly scraping your nails over his scalp.

"Yeah," he chuckled against your sternum.

"Don't leave me for so long again, please."

"Not if I can help it," he mused, turning his head to kiss between your breasts slowly. When his eyes met yours, he asked softly, "All right, my love? Did I hurt you?"

"No, not at all," you assured. "I needed you just as bad." The air turned poignant as you sighed, "And now... You must go home to her."

Marcus paused before lifting from you, never pulling out. He looked at you for a long moment before gently collecting you into his chest, forcing you to sit upright. Pathetic tears of misplaced longing and sadness were brewing, something your lover could see. "I don't have to leave yet," he whispered, "for the Emperors are still hosting an affair in my honor. She will not expect me for hours more..." He pulled you off the table, making you gasp as his cock slipped out and your arms shot out to wrap around his shoulders. Your legs locked around his waist in an effort to keep your balance while calloused fingers dug into the soft, ample, plush flesh of your bottom. "And I am not finished with you yet, my star. It will be a long night for you, that, I will promise now."

You nodded, caressing his stubbled cheek; leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips as he moved for the privacy of your (usually shared) bedroom.

"Listen up, you mongrels," one of the guards, Augustus, shouted over the gaggle of gladiators, "all of you are expected to be on your best behavior! Because today - today, lads, we're being blessed with a visit from Venus!"

Those around Lucius chanted and hooted in what he understood as genuine excitement, piquing his curiosity with shifting and shining eyes. Surely, there was no real physical deity of the Roman Goddess of Love and Beauty - so who was this Venus creating such a stir? For a moment, he considered his Aunt - whom, as a child, he remembered being revered as Emperor Aurelius's Venus - but there was no way she was still alive, let alone in Rome. Right?

"You all know the rules!" Augustus grunted. "Mind yourselves and do not touch her! None of you," he glared pointedly over the crowd, zeroing in on Lucius, "may touch her."

"The hell's everyone on about?" Lucius asked when the courtyard dispersed to let the warriors begin their sparring and various trainings. "Venus?" He scoffed in disbelief, glancing at Ravi. "Seriously? What a cheap ploy."

"The People's Princess," the former gladiator-turned-healer informed, "the Should-Be Empress. Some whisper she's the Never Empress."

"That does little t'tell me anything," Lucius rolled his eyes in humor.

"She is Marcus Aurelius' youngest daughter," Ravi informed with a lowered voice, "rumored as our very own Helen of Troy. Our Venus of Rome, Y/N Aurelius. She's of the people, comes around once a week or so to tend to the wounded and such, and you will mind your manners."

"Hm," Lucius perked his brows, unimpressed by any Roman imperial. Even his own flesh and blood.

He noted when the doors opened, it was General Acacius himself escorting a women of such gorgeous stature, she belonged encased in marble. She wore drapes of varying blues, holding the General's arm tenderly as she earned her footing after dismounting her horse. Lucius watched as she spoke with kindness and animation to the guards of the Colosseum, surveying the group through kicked-up dirt.

Augustus pointed out the few gladiator's that had sustained larger injury - himself included.

Lucius noted the close, attentive, almost protective gaze the General kept on the Lady Aurelius as she worked through the crowded courtyard. Some gladiators needed no tending but still insisted she look at their cuts or bruises, her obviously just humoring them as it seemed they were all friendly enough. Then... Venus came upon Lucius and Ravi last.

"My friend," you greeted with your luscious locks pinned back off your neck and ears. The heat was rather unforgiving today.

"My Lady," Ravi shot to his feet, giving a small bow of his head as she caressed his elbow with a grin. "You look as beautiful as ever - blue's your color."

"You say that about every color I wear," you mused.

Ravi blushed, "It is truth each and every time, my Lady."

"Oh, you charmer. And who might this be?" You directed at the newest, unrecognizable fighter.

"A gladiator," Lucius answered stiffly, wiping his hands on a rag and avoiding your eyes.

"With a gorgeously festering cut," you noted, pointing to his bicep. "May I?" You offered, already moving around the benches to take a seat. Begrudgingly, Lucius agreed; sitting and offering his arm for you to examine with narrowed eyes and gentle fingers, humming knowingly. "I have a poultice that should soothe this infection, but it might need cleared and stitched first," you considered the wound, asking your friend, "have you seen this, Ravi?"

"I have, Lady, and tried treating it - but none have hands as gentle and healing as yours."

"You're too kind," you chuckled. "Though with so much carnage of late, I fear my talents in healing are wasted here."

"What would you know of carnage, my Lady?" Lucius spat. You looked up to hold his gaze for several long moments, a slow smirk pulling on one side of your lips as his eyes - there was something about this particular gladiator's eyes.

"I know my father, Marcus Aurelius, died for a vision of Rome that his loyal devotees endeavored to build," you informed, prodding at his wound with a thin needle, your own medical case open at your feet. "He was murdered, his throne usurped. I was there once upon a time, amongst the bodies. The carnage, death and destruction."

"Why would a Princess of Rome be one the frontlines?" Lucius scoffed, glancing at Ravi with a dramatic snarled lip. He wanted so badly to resist the Lady's charm - but even he had to admit, he was faltering.

"Experience is the best teacher, Gladiator, we all learn most successfully through exposure," you offered simply. "I was there, tending the wounded, harvesting our dead. I saw what war does to a nation, to the land and resources, but most of all, to its people; but I also understood my father's reasoning and necessity. Yet now?" You scoffed, eyes rolling at the man's bloodied bicep as you seemingly lost yourself in explanation, "Those that come after him have done nothing to bring his Empire together, nor deserve such triumph - or so they call it. I do not know of such victory when there's been too much life lost - and so unnecessarily, too. Father would be disgusted by the efforts our Republic has shown."

"Yet you parade with the very general responsible for such carnage you claim to disagree with," Lucius snarled softly, glaring at you threading the needle.

You hummed and threw a stitch in his open cut, "While easy to blame, General Marcus Acacius is a man of great honor and not the man your anger - which you cannot hide," you snickered, bumping Ravi's shoulder with yours, " - should be directed at." When Lucious scoffed and shook his head, ready to retort, you continued, "The General was a solider first and foremost, fought under the greatest gladiator these Games will ever know - the General Maximus Decimus Meridius, the Spaniard." You paused, noting the reaction from the warrior. "Ah. You know the name."

"He's... Honored under the Colosseum, yes," Lucius agreed, seemingly interested in your words suddenly.

"Well - " You had to pick at an angry-looking scab, instantly apologizing, "sorry - sorry - sorry," when it wept again. After using a clean piece of gauze to staunch the bleeding, you continued, "The General is a man of honor, Gladiator, as I said. He takes direction, he is a subject - just like the rest of us. It was not Marcus Acacius who decided the whole of Rome should be expanded - he only took his orders from the Emperors, and for his own life," you smeared the pomade to sculpted flesh, "had no choice but to set sail; to march, fight, invade, concur. There is a reason the people adore him; he is kind and just, fair, generous, accommodating and polite, politically moral - "

"You sound in-love," Lucius interrupted with a knowing grin, teasing you now as his defenses lowered slightly. He wondered if you remembered him; knowing you were younger than he is now when your father passed.

You wrapped his bicep with a simple bandage, "I would not have him become the ire of your anger, nor anyone's - not with our Emperors being as... Unstable," you hushed, tightening the knot of the gauze painfully tight, Lucius hissing through clenched teeth, "as they are."

"You speak dangerously, Lady, restrain yourself," Ravi checked around them for any droppers of eaves.

"I speak to two men who deserve the truth," you corrected. "The General did not wish to invade your home, Gladiator," you told Lucius, "but it was a command he could not refuse. If you wish for vengeance, perhaps direct that anger towards the true enemy of Rome: the greedy and craven who rule it."

"You speak of mutiny," Lucius realized with intrigue, leaning forward to his knees.

"I speak of justice. Tell me what was taken from you, Gladiator, and allow me to aid your division of a plan for your own justice," you bargained, "and in return, I ask only for you to see the truth of Acacius when the time comes."

"Your General sailed onto our shores," Lucius seethed, "to invade our lands and concur our people - unprompted and without reason beyond that of greed. And when my wife shot at him with an arrow, she was struck from our defense walls... I found her in the sea before your General took Roman prisoners of war. And here we now sit, Lady. Tell me - how can you rectify what's been done? How can you justify it to my face?"

"How can any of us? In truth, I cannot imagine the pain, the devastation. Though it means little, I'm sure, allow me to offer my condolences. I'm so sorry about your wife, her fate is unjust, unfair."

He was quiet for a long moment, then nodded, "Thank you. I... I appreciate that."

"I will not justify what Acacius has done during times of battle," you hushed carefully, "but I can direct you towards the true object of ire, those you should not trust. There is something brewing, my friends," you glanced at Ravi, "and we all must be ready. The people are stirring. There has been much done," you told Lucius, "by men greater than General Acacius, much that we cannot rectify. But that does not mean we cannot change the future, adjust course; do better moving forward. I am sorry about you wife, Gladiator, I am - I cannot make you believe that, but trust, I understand the pain of loving someone you cannot have anymore. Yet all I ask of you is to understand, as a gladiator, a solider, a warrior, the General is not who wronged you."

It was quiet as you finished cleaning around Lucius' arm; giving a casual glance around to note where each and every guard was.

The Gladiator questioned quietly to the ground, "Allow me to ask, if one were to... Consider revolting... How might one go about gathering the men and strength?"

You only shrugged and checked his forearms to prolong the ruse of treatment, "I hear rumor there are some 2,000 strong and loyal men to Acacius just outside the city, but rumors are just rumor." You held his icy blue eyes for a long moment, then went back to feigning work as he held no other notable injuries. "Listen, should you still continue this anger with the General, I understand, Gladiator, but allow me to assure, that energy is simply misplaced. You seek the wrong enemy, the wrong death to avenge your wife, because it is not Marcus Acacius, who is only a loyal soldier - yet still slave to the Emperors, as we all are in some degree."

Before anyone could answer, a cart was being lead into the courtyard by a procession of guards. You handed a small jar to Ravi with a set of instructions and when the General approached the tented benches you sat upon, you accepted his helping hand and bid the pair a good day - and to the Gladiator, good luck in his future fights. His smirk broadened when you dropped him a personal, private, knowing wink. You were escorted towards your horses, Lucius leaning towards Ravi, "What's happening with the carts?"

"Venus does not let food go to waste," Ravi smirked. "Anything from the palace is dispersed through the city of the less fortunate. Today, it is our turn."

Lucius turned to face Ravi directly on the bench, questioning sharply, "Who is she? Truly?"

"I told you, as did she."

"What is this kindness she shows? What game does she play?"

Ravi smirked, "There is not a single citizen in Rome who is not self-serving, my friend. Rome was not built in a day, but should something ever happen to her, the entire city would burn in a night. She's our Should-Be Empress, and her kindness is genuine, there is no game. I've come to know her intimately through the years - she's truly her father's daughter. If you question her loyalties, know it is with Rome."

Lucius nodded slowly, watching in the distance as while all were distracted by the arrival of food, the General spoke intimately over Venus. Lucius noted she was who reached to caress his jaw briefly with a grin before turning for their horses. His hands looked all too natural on the Lady's waist as he helped hoist her into the saddle, different questions brewing in the warrior's mind.

Days later, returning to the palace after visiting the gladiators again for more potent wounds after another round of the Games, your guards dismounted outside the stables as you leisurely strolled inside whilst still mounted. You nodded to the grooms and stablehands, leading your beast into his usual stall; spacious enough to turn him in a circle before dismounting. It was later in the day than you originally intended to return by, but it wasn't as if you were missing anything or had other engagements.

You just wanted to be home. In bed. Preferably with the man you loved, but you'd take a cask of wine at this point.

You tiredly untacked the bridle from your steed as hands seized your waist from behind, making you gasp and with the bridle in hand, swung your fist about as hard as you could. To your shock and horror, the intruder anticipated this and caught your wrist, musing, "Impressive reaction time, my lady."

"Acacius!"

"Sh," he hissed, backing you into the wooden stall's corner, "do you want to get us caught? We've not long - they're turning the horses in soon, but the guards are posted," he let his lips remain parted from his words to all but instantly push his tongue into your mouth. You could not restrain the moan he elicited from your lungs even if you tried, bridle dropping to the sawdust and hay so your hands could find purchase in his curls.

"We don't have time," you insisted when his hands grabbed at the flesh under your skirt.

"You underestimate me?"

"I would never, General," you whimpered when he used every muscles in his arms to lift you onto his waist; pressed back into the wall for balance. In assistance, while he was busy holding you up, you maneuvered the skirts of his tunic and usual armor to free his cock; finding him hot, hard, and heavy. "How're you this - "

"Thought of nothing but you all day, love," he grunted when he needed to readjust to better support you while taking hold of himself. "Don't think I can keep this up much longer, pet," Marcus panted into your mouth, swiping his cockhead up and down your slit to quickly ready you. He paused to pull back and spit in his hand, using that to smear around himself. "This sneaking around, the secrets, this affair. I love you, I want to be with you in every way; I don't think I can keep up with this ruse any more, my sweet."

"Acacius, you must."

"No, no, you don't understand," he heaved when he sunk inward, encasing himself in your gooey warmth, "I'm at my wits end, my lady. You are all I know, all I think of, I cannot be without you." His teeth bared as he humped into you wildly, bodies banging into the stall; making you reach out to hold onto the wall as the other slapped around his shoulders. Your nails dug deep into the layers of flesh.

"You're," you moaned and gasped in his ear, feeling his skin slick with sweat already, "you're - you're married - "

"That can change."

"To my sister, no less!"

"Matters little to me," he grit against your neck, "because I've loved you for my life and I am sick of not hosting you in my life as appropriate; to not have you as I need, as I must."

"To marry me?" You asked desperately, bringing your arm back in to caress his cheek and keep his face over yours; lips barely grazing together. Knowing he was turned on by emotional intimacy just as much, you continued, "To make me your lady? Love me loudly, in front of them all? All of Rome? Have a baby, perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, exactly that - marry you and watch my seed stick," he snarled into your flesh, humping harder, faster, like a stud horse during the season. "Bet you're gorgeous swollen with child, tits filled with milk - "

"Only when you marry me," you bargained, the sounds of his balls clapping the apex of your cunt a strange comfort to listen to. You didn't even think of the guards. "When my sister is taken care of," your voice lowered as you focused on your orgasms, "given a life of peace. I would not have her outcast as a divorcée."

"I'll see it done on my honor, she'll be taken care of," he promised, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips, "and then, it's just us, my love, it's us - it'll only be us. As it was always meant to be."

"Only us," you moaned, tears slowly gathering in your eyes. You knew he was too honorable to actually divorce your sister and desecrate your father's dying wish; you knew this was as good as you'd have him. Your heart broke as it did 16 years ago whilst accepting Acacius' orgasm.

Two days later, you were laid in bed, bare to the world, gazing at Acacius as he slumbered in momentary peace. Guilt wracked your entire being, never wanting to hurt your sister, but after having everything stolen or stripped from you, there was no true shame in loving the man beneath you.

Or so you told yourself.

"I can feel you staring again."

With a chuckle, you watched Acacius open his eyes and tilt his head downward. "You're just so handsome, I can't look away," you whispered. "And we don't often get hours like this, I want to relish in this sight."

He hummed, "A fault I shall amend. Do you know the time, my star?" Based on your saddened expression, he guessed, "Time to go, I suppose?"

"She'll get suspicious if you stay much longer."

"She pays me no heed," Acacius scoffed, rolling his eyes as he sat up; forcing you to roll off him in shock. "Our entire marriage - she doesn't so much as look at me, not the way she looked at Maximus. Not the way I look at you."

"I care little for how she looks at you, it's about the law, Acacius!"

"Spare me the law! She is committing far worse than me!" He snapped, making you recoil slightly; clutching the thin white sheet to your chest. When he noted your expression, Acacius sighed, "I'm sorry, my star, I should not have spoke in such a manner."

"It's not the manner in which you spoke," you watched him dress with your heart drowning in your chest, "but the meaning behind such words."

"I did not wish to tell you," he spoke to the tunic being adjusted, "but there have been... Suspicions."

"What sort?"

"Have you never wondered? In the years we've been married, she's never bore us a child?"

"Not for lack of trying, I'm sure."

Acacius shook his head. "She used herbal remedies to rid herself of the implications of our coupling," he frowned, watching the information register. You got from your bed, wrapping the sheet around you as he sighed, "I did not want you to know for this reason, do not look at me like that - "

"As long as I've known you, you've wanted to be a father," you pointed out, "and now you tell me, my sister's been secretly, what, aborting - ?"

"Yes," he spoke seriously, "and to the Empire, that is a serious offense. Yet I spoke nothing of it, I never confronted her out of guilt. She had Maximus, I have you; it was only fair of me to keep quiet of my suspicions."

"There's no such thing as fair, Acacius!"

"Then we shall make it so. Your father - he made what he wanted, why can we not do the same?"

And so, at long last... You had been forced to the table. The time had come for "the talk". Much was discussed late into the night, seemingly forgetting about time restraints as the seriousness of your conversation took precedent.

At the center of it all, you had realized the Twins could no longer rule and a revolution needed to take place. Rome needed saved, you bore a responsibility to the Empire and her citizens first. You lead the idea, Acacius supporting you wholly as ideas came to mind almost rapidly - reminding him once of your father, and later, of Maximus in some ways.

After dressing, you walked the General to one of the many hidden entrances of your villa; unaware of a nearby maid lurking around a column, a newly non-vetted face in your home. A detail that slipped through the cracks and would lead to devastation. She listened as you promised, "I'll go tomorrow before we meet with the Senators, but I am sure the gladiators will fight with us."

"Let me go instead, the men know my face, they will take my order," Acacius tried once more.

"They know and trust me, too," you smirked. "Father outlawed the Games for a reason, I have strong suspicion they will fight with us. Rome will fight with us, she deserves better than what she's getting now, it's up to us to complete Father's vision."

"And the Senators?"

"We'll find out tomorrow." The maid gasped to herself and fled around the corner, rushing for a distant entrance. "I'll send word to them by morning. Acacius, you know we speak of overthrowing the Emperors, whom we are both sworn to serve... Are we sure? The people are behind us, but are we sure this is the best course of action?"

"There's little other choice. I fear it's this or we run away - abandon the Roman Empire to her devices under craven rulers who someone will surely overthrow eventually."

You nodded, tears gathering, "We're truly doing this?"

"We're truly doing this," he swore, taking either cheek in hand. "I'm divorcing your sister, we'll free the gladiators, lead my men into the city and take it back; turn the tide for Rome at long last."

"As Father intended..."

Marcus nodded, glancing down before pulling you forward into his chest, requesting hastily, "Don't drink the tea."

"My love, the tea is how we stay safe."

"The tea is what poisons my seed. I'll marry you by next week, there'll be no need by then - why not start now?"

You gulped, "Because if this revolution doesn't work, the tea might be ineffective in a few days."

"Good."

"Acacius," you scolded, "this is serious - "

"I'm well aware," he rushed, thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. "I know the gravity of my words, of what I ask you. Yet I will still request you do not drink the tea - though, I cannot tell you what to do with your own body."

You were quiet, leaning into his embrace until your foreheads met and his hands dropped to hold you by the hips. "I am not my sister, I will not make a decision such as this by myself, for myself. I won't drink the tea tonight, but I will have a decision about it by tomorrow."

"Of course," he whispered, "fair is fair, my star."

Your nose nuzzled up his, agreeing, "Fair is fair."

"Tomorrow then."

You froze, shaking your head for a moment, "Now that it's time, I don't think I can let you go."

"So continues our nearly 20-year dilemma," he groaned, pulling you in for an embrace; pressing his face into your neck, one arm tight around your waist as the other gripped the back of your head. Quietly, he swore, "Soon, this will all be over, my love. We will all be at peace, able to honor what we've earned."

You whispered, "There will be Strength in our Honor."

"It's strength and honor, love," he snickered.

"Not my version."

[ part two: read here ]

[ part three: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist

-> no Gladiator II masterlist

Acacius got me like:

yah know?

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

Well let Troy burn.

Jajaja, I don't speak fluent English, but I can still write in English, even so I try to make my wish of writing about this neglected au yandere character possible.

Don't judge me I'm trying my best.

Prologue

You were born from an adventure, you are a bastard, your father never recognized you, you never knew about him until fate forced you to meet him.

For as long as you can remember, you lived with your mother, they were the happiest days you ever had.

Why the words "those were the happiest days", well your mother died in a car accident one day.

You were left alone when your beloved mother died, you remember being scared at the thought that you were now an orphan and would have to struggle in this cruel world to survive.

That would have been a hundred times better than what actually happened.

No, your destiny was to go live with your unknown father.

The famous Bruce Wayne, a Gotham City millionaire, philanthropist, playboy and owner of Wayne Industries.

Suffice it to say that your welcome was not the best, along with the lack of attention from your new father, to know what awaited you.

You were his first daughter, before he filled the house with many wild children who became vigilantes just like him.

You saw how a new child arrived with the passing years.

He guided them on their path with wisdom and something that could be described as fatherly affection.

You just stood on the sidelines waiting your turn to have a little bit of your father's attention.

That was never possible, there was never time for you, no matter how hard you tried, you were not important, you were not on his list of priorities, not even on the list of pending things.

You only had a butler as a responsible adult figure, no matter how much you want to say that it was enough to have him, it wasn't.

He reminded you that your father didn't even have any interest in you that his butler had to take care of you.

You gave up on this family with the third adopted child.

None of them wanted to hear from you when you tried to build a relationship with them, something that added insult to injury you already had.

You were an adult when the third son Tim appeared, you didn't learn anything from them except for his name, partly because you weren't interested in his past and partly because none of them wanted to share it, because they would do it with a completely unknown and disadvantaged girl.

As soon as you had the opportunity, you fled the mansion, maybe no one would notice, you were very sure.

You had money, your mother had insurance, which would pass into your hands when you came of age.

With that you survived at the university, of course you went to another city, safer and far from your family.

You wouldn't be so stupid to stay in y our already proclaimed city.

Your college years were healing for your broken heart, filled with sadness, hate and pain.

Being neglected, ignored and forgotten was very destructive to your life.

You went to a lot of parties, you drank a lot, you took a lot of substances and powders of dubious origin to numb your feelings, you met a lot of people, you made friends who had problems similar to yours.

Shitty parents who screwed up your life.

If your stay in that house caused you episodes of depression, low self-esteem and constant anxiety that caused you to mutilate your nails.

Over the years away from that place that you had to call home, you recovered from all your self-destructive feelings along with the people you met and had the honor of calling friends, brothers and family.

You graduated without complications, in the career that you always dreamed of following since you were little.

At one of the parties with your friends, when they were celebrating the entry into the hateful but obligatory world of work for you and one of your friends, you met a boy, his appearance caught your attention.

When you started talking to him, you hit it off very well, you danced a lot on the floor together, you drank like there was no tomorrow and you talked until you were hoarse.

In a moment of conversation between the two, he confessed that he was a hero, something that you took as a joke, because who would confess it to a complete stranger.

You didn't take into account that it could be true, a confession that the man said because he was super drunk.

You woke up in an unknown place, as soon as you recovered you fled the place, it was easy because the man you remembered coming to this place with had already left long before you woke up.

You continued your life normally, some stumbles and falls but nothing extreme that you couldn't resolve.

At least that's what you thought, until you saw a dark-skinned boy, with black hair, with green eyes and a terrifying unfriendly face, outside your house knocking on the door.

His appearance was very easy to spot, you had a vague idea of who he was.

If you had known that his presence would turn your world upside down, you would have thought better of it.

[wlwfanfictionss]

Relax, and let go

Alicent Hightower x Female! Reader

Summary: When the duties of the realm take their toll on her, her sworn sword takes care of their Queen.

or: the one where reader fucks Alicent in a bathtub :)

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Soft smut (Alicent deserves some love), top!reader obv, yearning hehe MDNI!!!!!

a/n: Im back! sort of lol. Trying to get back into writing, and what better way to get back into it then with a little Alicent content right before season two?? Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you all would like to see more Alicent content. Anywayssss....#teamgreen

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Her footsteps were heavy on the cold stone floor of the halls. The Council meeting had been a long one, the sun had already been set for a while now, the castle quiet since most staff and royals had retreated to their own chambers. The Queen made her way to her bedchambers at the very end of the hall, escorted by her sworn sword. You both walked in silence, you could see the weight of her duties dragging her down. Her shoulders were slumped, but still she walked with purpose. She hadn’t been sleeping, you knew that, because every night you stood outside her room to stand guard, you saw the light slip underneath her door and heard shuffling inside the room.

You open the big wooden doors that lead to her quarters, so she can step inside. You follow right behind her, lighting some candles to light up her room a bit. Before you announce your departure to the queen, now standing facing the balcony, you decide to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Your Grace?”, you ask softly. She doesn't answer, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts, so you try again.

“Alicent?”

The use of her name instead of her title makes her wake from her thoughts. She turns around and looks at you. It takes your breath away every single time. You knew it wasn't right, she was your boss, the queen of the seven kingdoms, but you couldn’t help it. Every time you laid eyes on the Dowager queen, you couldn’t help but admire her beauty.

“Yes?” she responded curtly, though there was kindness in the way she spoke to you.

You decide to speak, all might it be out of line. “You should get some rest”

“Rest...” Alicent echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "I wish I could, but duty does not pause for the queen's exhaustion." The weight of duty was immense, and the thought of rest seemed like a luxury she could not afford in times like these. Yet, the truth was that her body was beginning to buckle under the strain. Her husband, the king, was very ill, and his duties had become hers.

"But... I suppose you are right," she added, acknowledging the wisdom in her guard's words. "I cannot lead if I am weakened."

“Ill draw a bath for you, your grace” you propose. It was so late when the two of you came back from the council that her handmaidens had already retreated back to their homes.

“Alright,” Alicent answered quietly, a hint of relief creeping into her voice, “Thank you.”

Without another word, you remove the heavy layers of your armor to be able to help her out. Making your way to the bronze tub in the corner of the room, you start by heating up the water. Filling the water with oils, the sweet fumes of which filling the room with a relaxing smell.

"I... I will need some help removing my dress." Alicent spoke up. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but her words were tinged with an underlying fatigue.

“Of course, your grace”, you say, as you try not to think about the proximity in which you will be to the queen. The two of you have been close before, of course, you were her sworn sword, her protector. But never like this. Never just the two of you, confined in her bedchambers, nonetheless.

Alicent nodded her appreciation, thankful that she would not have to struggle alone with the intricate laces and ribbons of her dress. As she stood by the tub, the scent of rose oil wafted through the air, a soft fragrance to soothe her stress.

“I do not wish to burden you with my... personal matters." Despite trying to keep her composure as queen, at that moment Alicent felt a sense of vulnerability, as if the queen’s facade of regal authority had slipped away.

“You do not burden me, your grace”, you say softly. “I'm happy to help.”

“Can I?”, you ask her softly for permission to start untying the laces of her intricate green dress. It was absolutely breathtaking. A deep dark green, decorated with lace and stones. It must have cost a fortune. The contrast of her green dress and the brown of her eyes, that shimmered in the light of the candles around the room and made it look like flowing honey, made your head feel foggy.

Alicent nodded, “Yes, you may,” she replied politely. It was almost a whisper. She was slightly taken aback by your question. It seemed so simple, but to the queen it wasn’t. Her body was never hers, she had never been asked to be touched before, and your simple question of permission made her heart warm. The two of you always had this sort of tension. The air feeling thicker when you got close. You spend a lot of time together, since you were her personal guard, but somewhere along the way you created a special bond. The two of you didn't speak a lot, but Alicent knew you were loyal to her family, but mostly to her, and always stood by her, no matter what. You made the Queen feel things she hadn’t felt since Rhaenyra and her were young.

As you approached, Alicent presented her back to you, the laces of her emerald green gown flowing down her waist like intricate strands of thread. The Queen's breath hitched slightly as her guard gently removed the complex knots, the feeling of your strong hands touching her being strangely soothing to her.

And as you worked on undoing the laces, Alicent's breath grew softer as the tension from her dress lessened. The queen's back was bared for you to see, you gulped when you saw the smooth skin of her back being presented to you. The room being filled by the smell of rose petals and the steam from the bath, representing the growing tension between the two of you.

Your fingertips brush slightly against the queen's back as you remove the last of the laces. Taking a step back, you allow Alicent her space to undress further.

Alicent gracefully let her dress fall down, pooling on the stone floor like cascading waves. The queen's pale skin contrasted against the deep emerald-colored fabric, and as she stood in her smallclothes, the queen felt a strange sense of vulnerability. 

She could feel her guard's gaze upon her back, but there was something strangely comforting by the presence of someone who didn't seek to take advantage of her body or her power, but simply to serve and protect.

Letting out a quick cough, you turn around with your cheeks reddening, so she can rid herself of the last layer and get into the bath.

With her guard's eyes turned away, Alicent slipped out of her smallclothes and stepped into the awaiting bathtub. The warm water enveloped her body, and some of the day's exhaustion melted away in its embrace. As she settled into the bath, the queen sighed softly, relishing in the feeling of clean, warm water against her skin.

The moment you turn back around, your breath hitches. Although the cloudy water hides most of her body, you have never seen her like this, and your imagination runs wild about what hides beneath the rippling service of the water. You quickly shake your head to get rid of the inappropriate thoughts about the queen.

“Ehm, ill leave you to it then, your grace”, you say as you try to look away from her naked figure. Once you pick up you armor and leave for the door, a soft voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait,” Alicent's voice interrupts you, “stay.” There is a flicker of longing in her eyes as she speaks out to you.

You feel like you are in a dream right now. “Excuse me, your grace?”, you ask to make sure you heard the Queen correctly.

Alicent repeats her words, her voice tinged with a subtle plea. "Stay. Please... stay with me."

The queen's gaze remains fixed on you, and the vulnerability in her eyes is a sharp contrast to the regal composure that she so often wears around the castle. 

You drop your stuff to the floor, your gaze never leaving hers. “Where do you want me?”

She points to an antique stool next to the bathtub. “Just keep me company for a while.”

The queen's voice is laced with sincerity and a touch of exhaustion, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of tenderness and longing.

Without another word, you walk over to the stool next to the bath and take a seat, arm resting on the side of the tub. Alicent leans back against the bathtub, relishing the warmth and comfort it provides.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

As you sit in silence for a moment, you try not to let your eyes wander to her barely covered body. Alicent remains quiet, her gaze drifting to the surface of the water, which slightly shifts and ripples along with the movements of her body. The heat from the water and the rose-scented steam fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere. The queen's body is mostly hidden, and yet the gentle swell of her curves are visible through the water, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to her presence.

When you catch yourself looking at her body, you quickly look up, only to be met with her brown eyes already on yours. Alicent notices your gaze upon her, and a soft blush tints her cheeks. Neither of you look away, and for a moment, the tension in the air thickens.

“I'm sorry your grace, that was inappropriate”, you say as you go to stand up, but she grabs your sleeve as not to let you leave her side

"It's alright, please... stay." Alicent's voice is a tender whisper, and as she grasps the sleeve of your shirt, her touch is gentle but insistent. Her eyes hold a faint hint of vulnerability. Without breaking their eye contact, Alicent gently tugs on your sleeve, a silent plea for you to stay. Her touch makes your breath hitch, and you sit back down, not leaving her gaze

Alicent's eyes continue to hold yours with a mix of vulnerability and comfort. The heat of the water, the scent of the oils, and the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you create a sense of closeness that goes beyond mere companionship.

Alicent's hand remains gently resting on the edge of the tub, within your reach. So you decide to make the first move. “Tell me if you want me to stop, your grace”, you say, before letting your fingertips softly touch her hand, slowly dragging them up the length of her arm.

Alicent's heart skips a beat as she feels your touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes follow the movement of your hand with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. After a moment of excruciating silence, she finally whispers, "Keep going," in a low, enticing voice. The queen felt like her skin is set ablaze, and she leans into your touch ever so slightly.

When you suddenly stand up, Alicent wants to protest, but before she can speak up, you move the stool behind her and sit back down. Your hands make contact with her shoulders, massaging away the tension of the day. A soft sigh of contentment escapes Alicent's lips as she feels the firm yet gentle pressure of your hands on her shoulders and neck. The queen's body relaxes under your touch, the tension, and stress of the day melting away as you work out the knots and kinks in her muscles. Your touch is soothing, and the queen closes her eyes, savouring in the sensations.

As you keep massaging her body you move your head closer to her ear. "Would you like me to keep going your grace?" you speak in a hushed tone.

At your quiet whisper, a shiver runs down Alicent's spine, and her response comes in a low and breathless voice. "Yes," she whispers, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Keep going...please.."

As your fingertips work their magic, the queen leans further back into your embrace, her body surrendering to the sensations you create. Sliding one of your hands over her shoulder, you move it towards the water. The queen's body responds to your ministrations, her chest rising and falling slightly as she lets out a soft gasp. The mixture of pleasure and excitement is undeniable as your fingers graze against her soft skin.

Alicent's breath hitches as your hands make contact with her breast, the sudden intimacy and sensation sending a jolt of desire through her body, towards her core. Her back arches slightly at your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Just relax, Alicent." you speak up. "I've got you."

Your other hand mirrors the one on already on her breast and you begin to massage her chest, teasing her by sliding your hands across her nipples. When her breathing becomes more ragged, your movement become bolder. Playing with her nipples makes the Queen moan and mewl softly. You decide these sounds might be the holliest of things you have ever experienced. Kissing her neck, you can feel her pulse quicken. Never had Alicent felt such pleassure as she did now. Never had she been taken care of like this, being pleassured without being demanded something in return.

Alicent sits up more, exposing her chest to you. The top of her back that wasnt against the tub, now pressed against your front. One of your hands abandons her nipple and traverses lower under the water. When you reach her intimacy, the Queen holds in her breath. Cupping her pussy, you can feel how wet she is, even while she is submerged in the tub.

As Alicent turns her head back and to the side, you stare into her big doe eyes. Her mouth hangs open slightly as your palm slowely starts rubbing her clit. The Queen's soft sighs turn into moans and curses as the friction increases.

The hand that was still playing with her nipples, moved to her face, pulling her closer so you lips were mere inches apart. You press your lips to hers in a seering kiss, and at the same time you push a single diget inside of her. Alicent moans into the kiss, but returns it feverishly, her hand tugging at your shirt, pulling you closer. You have to try not to fall into the tub with her.

The moment you start pumping you finger inside of her, she loses it. God, if you knew the Queen of Westeros would be this loud in bed, you would have made the first move ages ago.

"Please, please, please, please..." she says over and over again, the words spilling from her lips like a prayer.

"Shhh, ive got you." you reply, adding a second finger into her, slowly picking up the pace with which you fucked her. Some of the water violently splashing over the tub by now.

You could practically hear the seams of your shirt ripping, with the force Alicent was clawing at you. Your tounge explored her mouth as your fingers kept working their magic underneath the water.

"I- Im gonna..."

"Cum for me, your Alicent" you interupt her.

And like clockwork, Alicent came undone all over your fingers. Her back arching out of the water, a loud moan of your name filling the empty space. And as you let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, you litered her skin with kisses. Showing her your love and loyalty. Not to her family, but to her and only her.

She shuddered when you pulled your fingers out of her. Pulling them out of the water and straight into your mouth, cleaning your hand of her juices, moaning at the sweet taste. The Queen just stared at you with wide eyes.

"Thank you...for that." Alicent spoke first after she had regained her breath. A rosy tint spreading across her cheeks.

"It was my pleasure, your grace." you anwer with a slight smirk. "The water is getting cold, let me help you out."

Alicent stood up in the tub, slightly emberassed to show her body to you, even after the activities the two of you just did. She never found herself quite attractive, her body in particular. It was made to bare children, nothing more. Thats the thought she had grown up with. But now, standing naked in that tub, with you staring at her like she was the most beautifull woman that had ever set foot on the earth, she felt like she wasnt just a tool for men to use and abuse. She felt seen and loved.

You lifted her out of the tub like she weighed nothing and pulled a large towel around her naked frame. Rubbing you hands over her arms to help her dry off. You let her dry herself off fully as you go over to blow out most of the candles, letting just a few lit for when she sleeps.

Standing back infront of her, Alicent had now dressed herself in her nightgown. You push a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face, before kissing her one last time. For all you knew, this moment would be a once in a lifetime. Where the two of you would not speak of this ever, or you would wake up tomorrow to guards dragging you infront of a dragon to be its breakfast for what you just did to the Queen of Westeros. The kiss was short, but her lips felt heavenly on your own.

Alicent leans into the kiss. She felt like a teenager again. Deep down she knew this was wrong, but right now she had never felt this good.

"You should get some sleep" you say. "its late and you have a long day tomorrow."

"You are right" she says before kissing your cheek and climbing into bed.

"You can't stay, can you?" she asks. She knows the answer, but still sounds hopefull.

"I can't, but i will be right outside your door." you answer as you put your armor back on to stand guard at the Queens door all night.

As you go to leave, she stops you one last time.

"y/n?"

You turn around and see her all cozy in her bed. "Yes?"

"Thank you" she says in the most sincere way possible.

"Anytime." you answer, before leaving her room and closing the door behind you. You didnt know what would happen between the two of you now, but you meant it. You would be there for her, always, no matter what. You had told her many times but after tonight, Alicent might truly believed that.

[writing-reference-redux]

I felt like sharing my collection of Latin phrases that may make good fanfic or fanart titles or inspiration. Some of the translations may be off, so you might want to double-check them before use. Also, I used capitalization liberally so you might also want to check where capitalization is actually indicated.

Ab Intra (From Within)

Acta Est Fabula (The play has been performed)

Acta Sancti ___ (The Deeds of Saint ___)

Ad Undas (to the waves / to hell)

Advocatus Diaboli (Devil's advocate)

Aegri Somnia (a sick man's dreams / troubled dreams)

Alea Iacta Est (the die has been cast / point of no return)

Apologia Pro Vita Sua (defense of one's life)

Caetera Desunt (the rest is missing)

Cedere Nescio (I know not how to yield)

Damnatio Memoriae (damnation of memory / denying someone ever lived)

De Nobis Fabula Narratur (their story is our story)

Decessit Vita Patris (died before their father)

Diem Perdidi (I have lost the day)

Dies Tenebrosa Sicut Nox (a day as dark as night)

Dolor Hic Tibi Proderit Olim (some day this pain will be useful to you)

Dulce Est Desipere In Loco (It is sweet on occasion to play the fool)

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus (while we live, let us live)

Dux Bellorum (war leader)

Ex Umbra In Solem (from the shadow into the light)

Festina Lente (hurry slowly)

Fortis Cadere, Cedere Non Potest (the brave may fall, but can not yield)

Fui Quod Es, Eris Quod Sum (I once was what you are, you will be what I am)

Graviora Manent (heavier things remain / the worst is yet to come)

Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (one day, this will be pleasing to remember)

Hic Mortui Vivunt (here the dead speak)

Hinc Illae Lacrimae (hence those tears)

Hodie Mihi, Cras Tibi (Today it's me, tomorrow it will be you - of death)

In Ictu Oculi (in the blink of an eye)

In Somnis Veritas (in dreams there is truth)

Inter Spem Et Metum (between hope and fear)

Lapsus Memoriae (slip of memory)

Luctor, Non Mergor (I struggle, but am not overwhelmed)

Lux Ex Tenebris (light from darkness)

Media Vita In Morte Sumus (In the midst of our lives we die)

Memento Mori (remember that you will die)

Memento Vivere (remember to live)

Morior Invictus (I die unvanquished / death before defeat)

Mundus Senescit (the world grows old)

Nemini Parco (I spare no one - death)

Nitimur In Vetitum (we strive for the forbidden)

Non Ducor, Duco (I am not led; I lead)

Non Omnis Moriar (I shall not all die / part of me will survive beyond death)

Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor (now I know what love is)

Oderint Dum Metuant (let them hate, so long as they fear)

Omnia Mutantur (everything changes)

Onus Probandi (burden of proof)

Opera Posthuma (posthumous works)

Ophidia In Herba (a snake in the grass)

Pax Aeterna (eternal peace - a common epitaph)

Primum Non Nocere (first do no harm)

Pulvis Et Umbra Sumus (we are dust and shadow)

Quis Leget Haec? (who will read this?)

Quod Periit, Periit (what Is gone is gone)

Res, Non Verba (deeds, not words)

Respice Finem (consider the end)

Scientia Et Sapientia (knowledge and wisdom)

Seculo Seculorum (forever and ever)

Sed Terrae Graviora Manent (but on earth, worse things await)

Si Vis Pacem Para Bellum (if you want peace, prepare for war)

Sic Infit (so it begins)

Sic Vita Est (such is life)

Silentium Est Aureum (silence is golden)

Sine Nomine (without a name / author unknown)

Sola Dosis Facit Venemum (the dose makes the poison)

Solvitur Ambulando (it is solved by walking / simple tests find solutions)

Stamus Contra Malum (we stand against evil)

Succisa Virescit (cut down, we grow back stronger)

Sum Quod Eris (I am what you will be - of death)

Summum Bonum (the supreme good)

Summum Malum (the supreme evil)

Sunt Lacrimae Rerum (there are tears for things)

Sunt Omnes Unum (they are all one)

Tabula Rasa (blank slate)

Transire Benefaciendo (to travel along while doing good)

Tu Fui Ego Eris (I was you; you will be me - of death)

Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor (where there is love, there is pain)

Ultima Forsan (perhaps the last / sundial quote "perhaps your last hour")

Usque Ad Finem (until the end / fight to the death)

Vacate Et Scire (Be still and know)

Vi Et Animo (with heart and soul)

Victoria Aut Mors (victory or death)

Vincit Qui Patitur (he conquers who endures)

Vita Ante Acta (a life done before - of reincarnation)

Vivere Militare Est (to live is to fight)

Vox Clamantis In Deserto (the voice of one crying in the wilderness)

There are also some longer ones that may not make good titles because of their length, but are still worth inclusion:

Aut Simul Stabunt Aut Simul Cadent (they will either stand together or fall together)

Flectere Si Nequeo Superos, Acheronta Movebo (if I can not reach Heaven I will raise Hell)

Forsan Et Haec Olim Meminisse Iuvabit (perhaps even these things will be good to remember one day)

Igitur Qui Desiderat Pacem, Praeparet Bellum (therefore whoever desires peace, let him prepare for war)

In Regione Caecorum Rex Est Luscus (in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king)

Minus Malum Toleratur Ut Maius Tollat (choose the lesser evil so a greater evil may be averted)

Quem Deus Vult Perdere, Dementat Prius (whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad)

Ubi Sunt, Qui Ante Nos Fuerunt? (Where are they, those who have gone before us?)

Virtus Junxit Mors Non Separabit (that which virtue unites, let not death separate)

[lizzyiii]

hi i was just wondering when the next chapter of his lady love will come out? it's an amazing story and i have not found anything else like it im obsessed!!👉🏻👈🏻☺️

heyyy....

His Lady Love (12)

pairing I aemond x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist I to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC word count | 3.8k words summary I aemond has kept his distance from you since your secret. you discover something about helaena and distance between you and aemond grows further as he confesses a secret just to hurt you

tags | ANGST, ANGST, oh and more ANGST. temporary break up??? pregnancy mention. note I uhhh hi. so explanation - I graduated high school and there's no time to actually enjoy summer because this girl is broke. so I got a job for the very first time in my life, yeah, that and i fell into a rami malek dark hole and accidentally wrote an 80k word josh washington fanfic

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Aemond retreated into himself after your confession, his cold silence heavier than any words he could have spoken.

The weight of your secrets hung between you, and his refusal to meet your eyes only amplified the crushing sense of rejection that echoed in your chest.

"I need time," he had said, but all you heard was rejection, rejection, rejection—a refrain that cut deeper than any blade could.

The days that followed passed in a blur of quiet torment, each tick of the clock marking the growing distance between you and Aemond. You found yourself in Helaena’s company more than ever.

She was a balm for your wounded soul, her gentle presence a rare comfort in the storm of your mind. It was with her that you could breathe, the children a welcome distraction from the chaos within you.

As you sat beside Helaena, the needle threading through the fabric of your embroidery, you allowed your thoughts to drift elsewhere.

Your fingers moved almost mechanically, following the familiar rhythm of the stitches as your mind wandered to the shadows you had left behind.

But no matter how hard you tried to lose yourself in the mundane task, your heart never stopped aching. Aemond's words, his retreat, followed you like a shadow.

You wondered, briefly, if it was selfish to want him to stay, to want him to understand you when you had already caused so much pain in your lifetime.

Helaena’s soft voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "What’s troubling you?" she said gently, her eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own.

You paused, the needle hovering above the fabric as you hesitated. "Everything," you whispered, not knowing where to start, or if you even could. "But mostly... Aemond." Your words were fragile, as if speaking his name would shatter whatever thread of hope remained between you.

Helaena gave you a soft, understanding smile, though there was a trace of sorrow in her eyes. "He’ll return to you when he’s ready. Aemond is not like the others. He carries more than he shows."

You nodded, though skepticism clouded your expression. Helaena’s words were always laced with a strange wisdom, one that seemed to come from somewhere beyond this world.

You already knew that the Targaryens were no ordinary humans—there was fire and magic in their blood—but Helaena... Helaena was different. Her aura was otherworldly, almost prophetic, and it made you both trust her and fear her answers.

"Helaena," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room. Her light, lilac-hued eyes turned to you, dreamy and distant, yet wholly focused on you. "How do you see this ending?"

She blinked slowly, tilting her head in question. "You and Aemond?" she asked, her tone curious but kind.

You shook your head, "No," you whispered. "The war."

Helaena’s gaze drifted away, her attention drawn to the small cages on the table beside her, where her insects scuttled and fluttered.

She furrowed her brows, her lips pressing into a thin line as she contemplated your question.

Finally, she spoke, her voice slow and deliberate, each word dripping with an ominous certainty. "No one will win. It is inevitable. All it will succeed in doing is leading the Targaryens to become... extinct."

The words sent a chill through you, colder than any winter wind. You stared at her, searching for any sign of hope in her expression, but there was none.

Her gaze remained fixed on her insects, her hands idly tending to them as if the weight of her revelation meant nothing.

Your throat tightened, "Extinct?" you echoed, your voice cracking with disbelief.

Helaena nodded solemnly. "Dragons cannot thrive in a house divided. Fire turns on itself, consuming everything in its path until only ash remains." She looked at you then, her eyes piercing despite their faraway quality. "It is our nature to destroy. And so, we will be destroyed."

The silence that followed was oppressive, a heavy pall that settled over the room.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing against the inevitability of her words. "Is there not a way to fix all of this?" you asked softly, setting your embroidery aside.

"I don't know," Helaena murmured, her tone tinged with regret. Suddenly, she winced, clutching her stomach as a flicker of pain crossed her face.

You immediately leaned forward, concern etched across your features. "What’s wrong?" you asked, your voice steady but laced with urgency.

Helaena exhaled shakily, her hand still pressed to her abdomen. "I... I’ve been feeling unwell these past moons," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your brow furrowed as you stood, moving closer to her. "Have you not spoken to the Maesters?" you asked, your tone edged with frustration.

She shook her head faintly. "They are all busy attending to Aegon," she replied.

Reaching out, you placed the back of your hand gently against her forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch—no fever, no signs of sickness.

Still, something was wrong. You focused, your senses sharpening as you attuned yourself to her body, listening for any irregularities.

Your eyes widened as you caught it: a faint but distinct sound, a rhythm that wasn’t her own. Your breath caught, and you stepped back slightly, staring at her with newfound realization.

"What is it?" Helaena murmured, her tone both curious and cautious as she noticed the change in your expression.

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly, your voice laden with wonder and a touch of disbelief. "I listened to your body," you said, your words careful and deliberate. Your gaze drifted downward, settling on her stomach. "And I hear two heartbeats."

Helaena blinked, her lips parting in a quiet gasp. "Oh," she muttered, her hands instinctively moving to cradle her abdomen. Realization dawned in her lilac eyes, and she whispered again, this time with more weight, "Oh."

Without thinking, you kneeled before her, your hands gently resting on her lap. “Helaena,” you began cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper, “when last did you... lay with Aegon?”

Her expression tightened in distaste as she wracked her memory. “Aegon made use of me,” she said bitterly, “that night of the last supper.”

“The last supper?” you repeated, your brow furrowing as you tried to place the moment. And then it struck you—the supper when all the Targaryens had gathered, Viserys’ final attempt to unite his fractured family. The night before everything began to crumble. “Oh,” you breathed, the word heavy with understanding.

Helaena’s eyes turned glassy, her gaze distant. “Having a babe during a war is a bad omen,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet, resigned sorrow.

“Or,” you said softly, reaching for her hands and covering them with your own, “it could be a good one. A babe symbolizes life. Hope.” You offered her the warmest smile you could muster, though the shadow of unease lingered in your own heart.

“They shall be fine,” you promised, your voice firm despite the chaos you knew was to come. “You shall protect them.”

Helaena stared at you for a long moment, her wide, lilac eyes flickering with unspoken fears and fragile faith.

Her hands tightened around yours, and finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. “I could not protect Jaehaerys.”

Her words were a blade to the heart, but you refused to falter. “And that is why I am here,” you said firmly, your voice laced with quiet determination. “To protect you. To protect them. All three of you.” You paused, catching your mistake, then softly added, “Four.”

A faint, hesitant smile flickered across her lips, fragile but genuine. You tried to match it, but your sharp hearing interrupted the moment.

Your brows furrowed as a distant sound reached your ears—wings, massive and powerful, cutting through the air. You rose swiftly, striding toward the balcony with purpose.

The sight that greeted you stole your breath. A dragon, light and unfamiliar, soared above King’s Landing, its wings slicing the air like a predator circling its prey. Its immense shadow fell over the Red Keep as it flew past, the sight both majestic and foreboding.

Helaena joined you on the balcony, her expression dreamy yet tinged with concern. Her gaze followed the dragon as it disappeared into the horizon.

“Whose dragon is that?” you asked, your voice low but urgent. “I don’t recognize it.”

Helaena tilted her head slightly, her tone distant but sure. “It’s not ours,” she murmured, her hands lightly gripping the railing. “And it is not one of Rhaenyra’s, either. It must be one of the unclaimed dragons of Dragonstone.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a faint frown pulling at the corners of your mouth. “Well, it’s not unclaimed anymore,” you said dryly, though your words carried an undercurrent of unease.

Before Helaena could respond, a mighty roar echoed through the skies, deep and reverberating. The sound cut through the air like a blade, making your head snap toward the source.

Your sharp senses picked up what came next before your mortal eyes could: **Vhagar** rising into the heavens, her ancient wings spreading wide, her silhouette monstrous against the fading sunlight.

And atop her sat Aemond.

“No,” you breathed, your chest tightening with dread as you leaned forward, gripping the balcony railing. Vhagar’s great wings flapped, her movement deliberate, as she veered toward the distant horizon. Toward Dragonstone. Toward the mysterious dragon.

Helaena’s voice broke through your haze, soft and detached. “Vhagar will not falter. But Aemond…” She trailed off, her brows knitting faintly as though seeing something only she could. “He seeks dominance, but it may bring ruin.”

You gripped the railing tighter, your nails digging into the stone. Her cryptic words did little to soothe the storm in your chest.

The hours stretched endlessly, a gnawing worry festering in your undead heart. You had long left Helaena's chambers, not wanting to subject her to the tumult of your thoughts.

Instead, you roamed the castle halls, your pacing restless and your mind racing, oblivious to the leering gazes that followed your every move.

A pointed clearing of a throat brought you out of your thoughts. Turning, your eyes landed on Lord Larys Strong, limping toward you with that infuriatingly smug expression that seemed permanently etched on his face.

His head dipped in a mockery of respect. "Lady Mikaelson," he greeted, his voice as smooth as it was insidious.

"Lord Strong," you replied curtly, your tone clipped, your patience already wearing thin.

Despite your disdain, you knew better than to dismiss him outright. Larys Strong was the keeper of whispers, his ears always first to catch the murmurs that mattered.

You approached him warily, your voice low. “Do you know of Prince Aemond’s whereabouts?”

Larys tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Worried, are you?"

The polite mask you had been forcing dropped immediately, your eyes narrowing into sharp slits. “Why wouldn’t I be concerned about the Prince Regent?”

His smirk widened, his gaze uncomfortably probing. “Yes, yes, of course. Especially given... your intimate relationship with him.”

Your lips pressed into a hard line, your jaw tightening at his insinuation. You loathed how he delivered the words with such deliberate emphasis, knowing well how the court gossiped about you.

You were no stranger to their whispers—Lady Mikaelson, now whispered about as the prince’s concubine.

Stepping closer, you allowed the faintest edge of your vampire nature to seep into your demeanor. Your eyes glinted dangerously, your voice dropping to a silk-lined threat. "Careful, Lord Strong. Tongues like yours have a way of getting bitten."

Larys raised his hands in mock surrender, though the satisfaction in his eyes only grew. “A thousand pardons, my lady. I meant no offense.”

You leaned back, your glare unwavering. “If you have nothing of use to share, then spare me your presence.”

As you turned, ready to leave the conversation behind, his voice slid after you like a poison-laced whisper. “Sharp Point.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brow furrowing in confusion. You turned back to him, your voice dripping with skepticism. “Excuse me?”

Lord Larys, sensing the shift in your mood, adopted a more somber expression, almost as if he were doing you a favor by sharing such information. “The pretender Queen, Rhaenyra, has found three new riders for her dragons.”

A flicker of realization sparked within you, understanding the true identity of the dragon you’d seen earlier. You straightened, the tension in your body tightening as Larys continued.

“Prince Aemond flew out to challenge her. And when his eyes fell on Dragonstone, he fled in terror, or so the rumors say.” He paused, watching you for any reaction. “And after that? He let loose his fury upon Sharp Point, razing the whole town to the ground.”

A sickened breath escaped you, your heart racing in your chest as you absorbed the weight of his words. “No…”

Larys nodded, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Yes. It’s true. Quite the display of anger, I hear. I would think it would be most frightening to find yourself in the presence of such a man. Dangerous, even, for a lady such as yourself.”

A slow, predatory fury began to unfurl inside you, and your eyes darkened with a mix of disbelief and contempt. How dare he insinuate that Aemond would ever turn his wrath upon you, let alone lay a hand on you.

But before you could retaliate, your heightened senses caught the distant sound of wings—a powerful, unmistakable beat that stirred the air around you.

Aemond had returned.

You turned sharply toward the sound, your pulse quickening. The fear that had gnawed at you now shifted into something else entirely: an unrelenting need for the truth.

You stormed into Aemond’s chambers, the heavy door slamming shut behind you, your steps echoing like thunder. He was there, standing at the edge of the balcony, the dim light of dusk framing him in shadow.

His silver hair caught the faint glow of the moon, but his back remained rigid, unyielding. You desperately hoped the whispers weren’t true, yet the ash smudging his tunic filled you with dread.

His actions reminded you far too much of the cruelty you had fled from—Niklaus, in one of his darkest moments.

“I waited hours for you, Aemond. Hours,” you began, your voice sharp with the tension that had built inside you all day.

He didn’t turn, didn’t so much as flinch, his voice cold and distant. “You need not concern yourself with where I go, or with my choices.”

That cold indifference stung more than it should have, yet it only fueled your anger. Your eyes narrowed, the fire within you rising. “I do concern myself, Aemond. Especially when you leave without a word, and come back covered in ash, with a storm of rumors following in your wake.”

He moved then, slowly, deliberately, turning to face you. His single eye, colder than you’d ever seen it, locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt as though he was a stranger. “I didn’t ask for your concern,” he said, his tone biting, cutting straight to the bone.

You inhaled sharply, your frustration boiling over. “And yet here I am, concerned,” you snapped, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “I know you, Aemond. I know fear when I see it. You are not above it, no matter how you might pretend otherwise.”

His voice was dark, dangerously calm as he spoke, “Do not pretend to know me. You know nothing of who I am—not truly. You’re too busy hiding your own monstrous truth to see anything clearly.”

The words struck, sharp as Valyrian steel. You ignored the pang of hurt that lanced through you, straightening as you took a step toward him, your voice sharp and unrelenting.

“Hiding my truth? You think I’m the monster here? What of you, Aemond? You destroyed an entire town. You burned it to the ground, tore it apart like it was nothing. That wasn’t strategy. That wasn’t wisdom. That was rage. Unbridled, destructive rage you refuse to face.”

“Do not preach to me,” he growled, his voice low and venomous, his eye narrowing with contempt. “You stand there, self-righteous, speaking of things you do not understand. You may have lived centuries, yet you are no better than the rest of us. You have blood on your hands, the same as anyone else.”

You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself, though your voice betrayed none of the hurt simmering beneath. “I never wanted this life, Aemond. But I’ve accepted it. I know what I am. But you—you wear your anger like a crown, as if it grants you dominion. You think fire and blood will bring you peace? It won’t. It never does.”

His expression twisted in offense, his voice rising. “You dare speak to me of peace, when you know none yourself?”

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, your tone sharp and unwavering. “I have peace in knowing who I am. I have peace in knowing that no matter what the world throws at me, no matter how much it tries to break me, I stand. But you… You’re just a boy, Aemond. A boy pretending to be a king.”

His eye flickered, his jaw tightening as he looked away, gesturing toward the door with finality. “Enough. I will not stand here and listen to this.”

You sighed, your lips trembling, but your voice was as sharp and unyielding. “But you shall.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides. Then, with a coldness that cut deeper than any blade, he said, “Do you know when I last felt peace? When I went to the Blue Pearl.”

The words struck like a thunderclap. Your breath caught, sharp and sudden, as you stared at him, searching for some sign that this was a cruel jest. “What?” you whispered, the word barely audible.

He took a deliberate step toward you, his tone chillingly indifferent, almost mocking. “You heard me. When I thought you were gone—when I thought I’d never see you again, when you left me with nothing but questions and a shattered heart—I sought comfort elsewhere.”

There was a flicker of something in his eye—regret, anger, defiance?—before his lips curled into a faint, cruel smirk. “There. Now I’ve hurt you as you've hurt me.”

You froze, his words slicing through you like dragonfire. Your mind spiraled with unbidden thoughts, primal urges—rip out his heart, tear his throat with your teeth, leave him broken and bleeding as his words had left you.

But instead, you stood there, unyielding, forcing the tears brimming in your eyes to stay put.

Blinking them away, a hollow, bitter laugh escaped your lips, raw and filled with disbelief. “Hurt me,” you echoed, the words dripping with venom.

You studied him, the man you had once believed you understood, the one you had allowed yourself to care for despite your nature. How quickly the tides could turn. Only yesterday, you were in bliss, Aemond’s arms a sanctuary.

And now, here he stood, confessing how he had lain with a whore in your absence, mocking the bond you thought you shared.

Your voice was low, trembling with suppressed fury. “How utterly predictable of you, Aemond. To nurse your wounds with spite and call it vengeance. You speak of broken hearts, but you—” you stepped closer, your voice rising, “—are the one who destroys everything you touch with your pride and your anger.”

He flinched, but his resolve didn’t waver, his gaze meeting yours with an icy defiance.

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself. If he sought a reaction, he would not have it—not the one he wanted, at least. “I never wanted to be the one to hurt you,” you murmured, your voice soft but unyielding as you looked away.

His presence, the very sight of him, sickened you. “I told you who I am because I thought it would bring us closer. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

You paused, letting the silence stretch and coil between you like a serpent. “And now I see it was all for naught. You cannot be saved, Aemond. And I shall not endeavor to try.”

Your words hung in the air, sharp and final. You turned to leave, your steps slow and deliberate, each one heavy with the weight of your disappointment. But just as your hand reached for the door, his voice stopped you.

It was different now—no longer cold and cutting, but softer, laced with something almost resembling regret. “I did not say you could leave.”

His words halted you momentarily, your back still turned to him. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before replying, your tone soft yet cutting.

“But your actions have,” you whispered. “Why be together when all we’ve done is hurt each other, yes?”

The silence that followed was deafening. And with that, you walked away, your steps resolute, leaving Aemond standing in the shadow of his own choices.

You didn’t look back, though every part of you ached to do so. Instead, you left the room, the door shutting softly behind you—a sound that felt louder than any scream.

A/N — I'm going to be writing out of my ASS from now on, maybe including a teeny tiny bit of the f&b material, even though to me book Aemond and show Aemond are completely different, but ciao

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[coryosmin]

Personal Secretary -

Young President Snow x Secretary Reader

About: President Snow is someone that prides himself on being a loyal husband and amazing President to the country of Panem. However, he does have quite the sweet spot for his secretary.

word count: 2,300

Warnings: NSFW Content, MDNI, cheating (not on you), unprotected sex, p in v sex, praise, quickie, etc.

“Gem of Panem,

Mighty City,

Through the ages you shine anew.”

You stood at your desk with a hand on your heart as the sound of the Capitol’s anthem played over the speakers. It was eight o’clock in the morning, the time the President had arrived at his office. This was a routine that happened each and every morning, to show one’s respect for their country and the mighty city of the Capitol.

“We humbly kneel,

To your ideal,

And pledge our love to you!”

Everyone was facing the flag of Panem, speaking the words to the anthem in unison as it played across the building. A few years back, barely anyone knew the anthem. It was a song made during the dark ages and only recently had it been brought back when Coriolanus Snow came into power. Something about showing pride for one’s home.

“Gem of Panem,

Heart of Justice,

Wisdom Crowns your marble brow.

You give us light,

You reunite,

To you we make our vow.”

You had always felt prideful for your city. Having been born and raised in the Capitol, gone to the Academy, gone to the University, you had been a star pupil in the eyes of your educators. Your family had been quite prominent but it was your skill set that really made you become the right hand woman to the President of the whole nation of Panem.

“Gem of Panem,

Seat of power,

Strength in Peacetime, shield in strife,”

You had gone to school with Coriolanus Snow, though you were a year behind him. You worked hard to make something of yourself outside of your family’s affiliations. Your family was known for investing in high fashion items, owning many of the high end fashion stores in the Capitol itself. And while your father had wanted that life for you as well, you wanted to become something else. And you did.

“Protect our land,

With armored hand,

Our Capitol,

Our life.”

When the anthem ended, you all went back to your work. It wasn’t easy being the secretary of the President. His schedule was quite tiresome most days. And today most certainly was one of those days. You focused on the papers set in front of you, sorting through them and seeing which ones were important enough for President Snow to take a look at. By ten in the morning, you knocked on his office door to give him his schedule.

“Come in,” came the authoritative voice that was Coriolanus Snow. The President of Panem had been elected about a year ago when he was just twenty-four years old and recently married to Livia Cardew, a woman he simply married for convenience and nothing more. In fact, he hated Livia Cardew quite a bit. Though she doesn’t know that and the nation doesn’t need to know that. And now, here he was, twenty-five years old and working hard to ensure that the country is running smoothly. And you? You were very patriotic towards your President.

“I have your schedule for the rest of the day, sir,” You said as you walked into the office, closing the door gently behind you and walking over to his desk. President Snow was sat at his desk, dressed in a navy blue suit with a red rose in the pocket. His hair was slicked back, making him look even more handsome than usual. Your heels clicked with each step you took and Coriolanus was very obviously staring you up and down. “And a list of messages to give you,” You added.

Coriolanus licked his lips before looking at your face. “Go on,” he said, using a hand to signal you to speak.

“You have lunch today with the new Head Gamemaster to discuss ideas for eighteenth annual Hunger Games at twelve p.m, a meeting with the mayor of District One at one p.m, a phone call with the Head General at two p.m, and an address to the nation at three p.m about the sewage system,” You explained, looking down at your notes before looking back up at Coriolanus. “After that, you have a Gala to attend tonight at eight o’clock with your wife who is wondering if you will be coming home for dinner.”

Coriolanus sighed, running a hand over his face as he thought over everything. “That’s quite a lot for today,” He exclaimed. “Tell Livia I will not be having dinner with her tonight.”

You nodded your head. “Right away, sir,” you said, giving him a polite smile.

“You’ll be attending the Gala as well, correct?” Coriolanus asked.

You nodded your head in confirmation. “That’s correct, sir,” You replied. “My whole family will be attending.”

“Good,” Coriolanus smirked at you. “I’ll see you later then, Miss L/N.”

“I’ll see you later, President Snow,” And with that, you left his office to get back to work.

When you arrived at the Gala dressed in a ravishing black dress that accentuates your curves, you knew that you were officially the best dressed at the event. Your hair was down and styled to perfection. Your makeup was done elegantly with a red lip. You walked into the event, immediately greeted by other prominent families within the Capitol. You greeted each and every one of them with a smile and a kind greeting. Only the best from a high member of society.

You looked around the room, noticing President Snow across the room with his wife standing next to him. His eyes were immediately on you. You gave him a smirk as he did a slight tilt of his head, signaling to follow him. He excused himself from Livia before walking towards the bathrooms. After a moment, you followed.

Your relationship with Coriolanus Snow is a bit of a complicated one that had begun when he was voted in as President. Being a year below him during school, the two of you interacted only briefly. But he hired you based on your family’s name and your high grades from the University. After your hiring, it was safe to assume that there was more to it. He would always look you up and down, taking in your beautiful form. And you didn’t hate it one bit. Coriolanus was an attractive man. And you were very patriotic.

About two months into his presidency, the two of you stayed late to work on an address that was going to be given the next day. A late night with your boss with dinner had led to the two of you talking about anything and everything unrelated to work. And that night, he fucked you on his desk without any regrets. That was the start of an affair that neither of you wanted to end.

You made your way to the bathroom, knocking on the door. You heard the faint “come in” of Coriolanus’s voice. Before walking in, you looked around to ensure no one else was looking. You opened the door, walking into the room before quickly closing it behind you and locking the door. As soon as you did so, Coriolanus was pinning you to the wall, his lips immediately on yours.

You let out a soft sound, kissing Coriolanus back with the same hunger and passion he was giving you. You brought your arms up around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “You look so beautiful tonight,” he murmured softly, pulling away to look into your eyes.

You gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” You said, kissing his lips. “You look quite handsome yourself,” You added, looking at Coriolanus’s dark green suit.

Coriolanus sighed. “Livia wanted me to wear it,” He said, slightly annoyed, “I think it looks horrendous. But I must be a supportive husband and follow through with my wife’s wishes.” Coriolanus dipped his head to kiss your neck, using his hands to explore your body.

You laughed, nodding your head. “What a wonderful husband you are,” you said a bit sarcastically.

Coriolanus hummed against your skin. “The best, really,” he said just as sarcastically. He lifted your dress over your hips. You chose not to wear anything underneath the dress which Coriolanus believed to be an excellent decision. “This is quite helpful,” he murmured softly. “Makes things easier.”

“Did it just for you,” You murmured back.

“You’re so good to me,” Coriolanus said. He pressed himself against you, letting you feel his hard on through his trousers. “We have to be quick,” he said a bit unhappily. Coriolanus didn’t like to do quickies as much as he loved taking his time with you. He adores making you feel just as good as you make him feel. “But I promise tomorrow evening will be ours,” he added.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” You smiled. “How do you want me?”

Coriolanus unbuttoned his pants enough to reveal his hard cock. He too wasn’t wearing any underwear. He licked his lips as he thought about your cunt. “Turn around for me.”

You obliged, turning around with a hand on the door of the bathroom. Coriolanus wrapped an arm around you, dipping his head to kiss your neck as he guided his cock to your entrance. He eased himself inside of you, causing the both of you to let out shaky breaths. You put a hand over your mouth to avoid moaning. “You’re so wet for me,” Coriolanus whispered into your ear, moving his hips slowly at first. “Wish I could take my time with you.”

“Always ready for your cock,” You whispered back, licking your lips.

“Mmm, yes you are,” Coriolanus replied, snapping his hips faster.

You gasped, trying to keep yourself from moaning like a slut. There were people just outside the door and it would be an all-time scandal if the people of Panem found out that the President was having an affair with his secretary.

“Gotta stay quiet for me, baby,” Coriolanus said shakily, thrusting his cock in and out of you tight cunt at a relentless pace. “Ah—fuck, you feel so good,” he almost whined in your ear.

You didn’t reply, not trusting yourself to not moan loudly if you uncover your mouth. Instead you met his thrusts with your own movements, his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly. Coriolanus was moving hard and fast, burying his cock inside of you so good. You threw your head back, closing your eyes in the process.

Coriolanus began kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point. “Gonna cum inside your tight pussy,” he whispered against your skin, thrusting his hips frantically. You could tell that Coriolanus was very close with how breathless he sounded and how he was holding back his own moans. You felt yourself getting closer, the repetitive thrusting into your g-spot sending you close to the edge.

“Gonna cum, oh my god—“ Coriolanus whispered harshly, close to just moaning out loud as he started spilling inside of you.

With a gasp, you clench around Coriolanus’s cock, gushing as you come. You felt the liquid dripping down your leg as you arched your back against Coriolanus. He fucked you through your orgasm, rocking his hips to milk the both of you. And when you both finished, he pulled out, immediately stuffing his cock back into his pants and zippering them. You were both breathing heavily as you took a moment to just lean your head against the bathroom door. Coriolanus, oh-so-kindly put your dress back down perfectly before turning you around and wrapped his arms around you.

“I needed that,” he murmured into your ear as he pulled you close to him, kissing the top of your head.

You smiled lazily, leaning against Coriolanus as you hugged him back. “Me too,” you replied. “They’re probably wondering where you are,” you sighed.

“Mmm,” Coriolanus made a noise of acknowledgment. “I wish I could just take you home,” he said, breathing in deeply.

It was always moments like this that made you wonder if Coriolanus Snow, the President of Panem, loved you. He always treated you like he had the utmost feelings for you. He would take you out for dinners, buy you gifts, care for you in such a way that only a lover would. But ultimately, you knew that wasn’t the case. Because Coriolanus Snow was incapable of loving another person. That’s what he told you, at least. Regardless, you didn’t mind it whatsoever. Because you’re his secretary, his true right hand woman. And that’s all that mattered, right?

After a few moments, the two of you pulled away and gathered yourselves. You cleaned yourself up, making sure nothing was on your legs while Coriolanus fixed his hair. He gave you one soft kiss. “I’ll see you,” he murmured against your lips.

You smiled, kissing him back. “See you, sir,” you replied.

Coriolanus smirked before walking out of the bathroom. You stayed back for a moment, fixing your lipstick and your hair in front of the mirror. And after a minute, you walked out and back into the party as though nothing happened. You glanced at Coriolanus, who was talking to some military official, and then looked at his wife, who was looking at you.

That’s when you knew Livia Cardew wasn’t as oblivious as she made herself out to be. And you? You simply winked at her and smirked before turning your attention to a random Capitol citizen.

[aureumdraconeus]

Like for a starter from any of my Sonic muses, feel free to specify which muse ya want and any plots ya might have in mind !!

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Memento Mori

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: loads and loads of tension in the air!!!!

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this chapter, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did - I am excited to see what you think about it!!!

After supper, Daemon found her lurking around Caraxes, she shined like a beacon in the dark of the night.

During the meetings with the riverlords, Lúthril had been by Daemon’s side, keeping her distance from everyone around her, only interfering to offer Daemon her wisdom or when Daemon asked her to provide her opinion on certain matters. Even though she kept saying that she had no King, in front of the little lords of the Riverlands, she did indeed act as if she had pledged her loyalty to Daemon as her king.

In everything she did, she was just too perfect: the way she carried herself ever so gracefully, the way she talked, her choice of words… It felt somehow wrong, making Daemon feel uneasy around her. Of course, at such moments, he would remember that she was no human and the uneasy feeling would go away. Deep down, he knew it only made sense for her to be perfect after having spent many years with the Gods.

Others in Harrenhal were mesmerised by her beauty the moment they saw Lúthril for the very first time that day – Daemon could swear he had seen Simon Strong drooling. Many tried to question her about where she came from and who she really was but Lúthril had a way with words – before they even knew it, she would brush the questions under the table, changing the subject or offering her wisdom about something completely irrelevant.

Before supper, Simon Strong had ordered the servants to prepare a room for the Lady to use as her chambers. Daemon could only imagine how different it had to feel to finally have a bed after hundred years of imprisonment.

As he approached Caraxes, the memories of the conversation earlier haunted him once again that day. Lúthril’s knowledge of his darkest deeds unnerved him. She was not just an advisor. She was a force—one he could not yet comprehend. But whether she was his salvation or his undoing, only time would tell.

“You give me the feeling that you enjoy the presence of my dragon more than my own, my Lady.” Daemon said, causing Lúthril to raise her head to meet his gaze. Throughout the day, he had got used to addressing her as my Lady to make the riverlords believe that she was some lady from somewhere. “Have you ever seen one this close before?”

Lúthril nodded as she placed her right hand on Caraxes’ scales. To Daemon’s surprise, the dragon was actually allowing her to touch itself, to come near itself. Daemon had no information about the Valargon’s relationship to the dragons; however, the view in front of his eyes was enough to intrigue him.

“We lived in Valyria amongst the dragonlords for a long time,” she responded, “but long before Daenys the Dreamer had her visions about the Doom, our Seers told us that we had to move to Westros.”

“So you can speak High Valyrian,” Daemon swiftly switched to his mother-tongue, causing Lúthril to giggle as she walked towards him.

“Of course I can,” Lúthril responded in High Valyrian. “Back then, the wealthiest dragonlords of Valyria could also speak the language of my people.”

Daemon took a few moments before continuing the conversation – the way Lúthril spoke the language had him mesmerised. The way the words rolled off her tongue, how High Valyrian added even more grace to her (as if it was possible) made Daemon want to stay there and just listen to her speaking in the language of his ancestors for the rest of his life.

“What about the dragons? Why do they know you?” Daemon asked, trying to gather his thoughts on the present moment but it was hard not to drift away. “Your people were no dragonlords, yet Caraxes seems to recognise your blood somehow.”

“Do you know how Targaryens became dragonlords, Daemon?” Lúthril asked, switching to the common tongue. Her intense gaze was causing different emotions to rise within Daemon, which had been confusing him ever since he met her. He didn’t really know her and yet, he was feeling the strongest attraction he has ever experienced in his life. It was exhilarating and also unsettling.

Daemon followed her when she started walking. “Of course,” he said, trying to understand where she was headed with this question. “They used blood magic – even Targaryen babes know about this.”

Lúthril sent him a confident look as she slowed down her steps. “And who do you think taught them how to carry out the blood magic to bind the dragons to the descendants of Valyrian blood?” Upon seeing the change in Daemon’s expression, she laughed. “I believe you now know the answer.”

“So it was your people?” Daemon asked, he found it hard to believe that the Valargon had played such a huge part in shaping the Targaryen dynasty – by teaching them how to be dragonlords. “That made us kings?”

She shook her head, causing her long hair to sway. “No, we simply taught you how to bind the dragons – the rest, you have accomplished yourselves.” Taking a deep breath, she rested her forehead against Caraxes’ scales, her feet stopping. It was astonishing that Caraxes was allowing her to get that close to him and that Lúthril was not getting any burns since the scales of a dragon tended to get very hot, even steaming during cold nights. “We gave you dragonfire, which eventually became our death. Destiny works in funny ways.”

Standing behind her, Daemon kept still for a moment, trying to decide whether he should listen to the wicked whispers crowding his thoughts. His reason was screaming at its lungs, telling him it was wrong, flashing him memories with Rhaenyra to make him feel awful about himself. However, the yearning after Lúthril and the desire to touch her skin was way stronger, coming from his very essence. The moment he laid his eyes on her, he would forget about Rhaenyra in a heartbeat.

At that instant, all Daemon wanted was to have her.

Listening to the whispers, Daemon took a big step towards Lúthril, resting his hands on either sides of her head, which still leaned the warm scales of Caraxes. The dragon’s hard scales were warm against Daemon’s skin, still leaving his hands unburnt. Upon realising the movements around him, Caraxes raised his long neck in an uneasy manner; however, upon seeing Daemon, the dragon let itself rest again.

“How interesting that might be, it still doesn’t answer my question – why does Caraxes recognise you?” Daemon whispered in her ear in High Valyrian. The way Lúthril shivered when his warm breath reached her ear was visible to Daemon as well, causing the edge of his lips to curl upwards.

“It is not just Caraxes,” She responded in High Valyrian, still her back was facing Daemon. “All dragons recognise us – the Valargon blood has been known to them ever since the first hatchling flapped its wings. They can smell our magic and realise its similarity to theirs.”

With slow movements, Daemon raised his right hand for a brief moment to gather Lúthril’s hair on her right shoulder. Then, he leant in for his lips to be on a level with her ear. His warm breath licked her exposed neck, causing her to take a deep breath. “In that case, I am certain Caraxes would gladly let you fly with me.” Daemon’s words were lower than a whisper. “Have you ever ridden a dragon?”

Lúthril paused for a moment before speaking, Daemon wished he could know what she thought at that moment or how she felt; however, she had a strong grip on herself, trying to show Daemon as little as she could. Well, the Rogue Prince always welcomed a challenge – the harder it was to unravel her mysteries, the more satisfaction the prize at the end brought.

“Flown I have,” Lúthril switched to the common tongue as she slowly turned inside Daemon’s arms to face him. The small distance between their bodies felt like it could burn any moment with the tension heavy in the air. “But not on dragonback.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow at her, looking down to meet her gaze. She seemed to know how to play this game as well; however, her moments of hesitation were more visible to the naked eye than his. “I believe you have to provide me more details as to how it is possible to fly without a dragon.”

A smirk found its way to her lips as she pushed back a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. “Daemon Targaryen, you do forget who I am often enough,” she spoke with a playful tone. “Why should it puzzle you that a being able to see your past, present and future can fly too?”

“I have never seen a person floating on their own in the sky,” Daemon responded with his quick wit, following the same playful tone Lúthril has set. He leaned in even further so that his lips were brushing against hers when he spoke, “have you?”

Even the brief touch of their lips in that single moment sent a shiver down her spine, Daemon had to try hard not to put on his victory smirk. He wanted to make her desperate for himself for he enjoyed this little game more than he could put into words.

He felt… alive after a long, long time.

Lúthril’s response took him by surprise. “It saddens me that your mind insists on restricting me to the fragile human body.”

“Ah,” Daemon spoke as he took a step back. “A shapeshifter, then.” It was a thought which has not occurred to him before; however, given everything the enchantress could do with her magic, shapeshifting was really not so surprising. “Which body does my Lady prefer for a pleasant flight?”

A giggle escaped her lips as she followed Daemon on his way to Caraxes’ saddle. “An eagle,” she responded, “a white eagle.”

[POV change]

You wrapped your hands tighter around Daemon’s waist as Caraxes flew through the night sky. Even though you had flown yourself, dragonback was a far different experience – far more thrilling and far more terrifying – even for someone like yourself.

In Valyria, conquering the skies amongst the dragons used to be one of your greatest pleasures in life – but that was another time, another life, when fire had not yet consumed your world, turning everyone you once held dear to ashes.

The wind tugged at your hair, the cold air biting against your skin and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to feel the warmth of Daemon’s body through the leather garments he carried. Strange, you thought. He had a fire burning within him, one that not even the flames of his dragon could match.

And yet, he did not know how easily he could be consumed by it.

Perhaps I myself, too, do not know how easily I can be consumed by it. The fire burning with the dragon.

For centuries, you had been untouchable, even in your imprisonment. Men, mortal or otherwise, held no sway over you. Yet, this one—Daemon Targaryen—made you question your restraint. His touch was a flame you didn’t wish to extinguish, though you knew it was dangerous to let it burn too brightly.

Your fingers, so accustomed to cold distance, now gripped him as though clinging to the last rays of the eternal light. Vulnerability, once alien, now crept beneath your skin like an uninvited guest, and you wondered how long you could allow yourself to burn.

Knowledge made it even more sweeter, the taste of the fruit. Knowing that the connection between you and Daemon had been woven into the very fabric of the time.

Is this why I find it impossible to walk away from him? you thought as you inhaled his scent, which somehow brought peace to your mind. Or is it something else?

Being close to him was becoming more intoxicating each time – you could not even recall the last time you had experienced such feelings towards another person, Valargon or human. It felt… exciting, in a different way. Despite knowing his past, present and future; Daemon was still a mysterious new book needed to be read – you had to let yourself get lost between its pages to taste its mysteries.

Desire was, indeed, quite hard to put a leash on.

“You have been quite,” Daemon spoke, breaking the silence. “Is everything alright?”

“I am simply enjoying the skies,” you responded with a content tone, “it is truly wonderous – exploring the night sky on dragonback.”

For a quick moment, Daemon looked over his shoulder to meet your gaze, his purple eyes shinning with joy. “I am glad you are enjoying yourself, my Lady.”

After a short pause, you spoke. “I do enjoy your presence, too, Daemon Targaryen.” A soft chuckle followed. “Not just your dragon’s.”

Daemon’s laugh sent shivers down your spine, you found it hard to believe how much you had grown you like that sound. It was utterly enchanting, leaving you wanting to crawl into his arms.

After dismounting Caraxes, you both stood next to each other, looking at the cursed castle of Harrenhal in silence. The night was still calm but the wind was getting colder and the full moon was slowly leaving its place to the waning crescent, its light reflecting from the diamonds on your dress.

Upon feeling his gaze on yourself, you turned your head to the left, Daemon’s purple eyes awaiting you. The flirtatious aura he normally had around himself was quite thin at that moment; all you could see in his eyes was… adoration. You couldn’t recall the last time someone looked at you that exact way.

“The diamonds on your dress,” Daemon spoke slowly as he raised his right hand. His fingers brushed against the diamonds adorning the neckline of your dress. “They make me feel like as if they have captured the light of the stars inside.”

A small smile formed on your lips. “You are not entirely wrong,” you responded, causing him to raise an eyebrow. “These diamonds were forged under the light of thousand stars, during the brightest night in the Land of the Gods.”

Daemon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, the ghost of his fingers trailing down your left arm over the fabric of your silver dress, giving you goosebumps. You took a deep breath. The effect of his touch on you was terrifying – your heart was on a race, breaths getting deeper, your body aching for more.

“So they did capture the light of the stars,” Daemon muttered as he gently held your hand. “Any less wouldn’t do your beauty any justice.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

The distance between your bodies seemed to get less and less, until you stopped yourself – you knew today was not the right time. Upon seeing the confused look in Daemon’s purple eyes, you placed your right hand on the side of his face, your left hand holding his right one.

“Not today,” you whispered, your lips slightly touching his as you spoke. “The stars move in their own time, Daemon. Let us not rush what’s already written.”

Standing on your fingertips, you left a kiss on his left cheek, a chuckle leaving Daemon’s lips. “You are a strange kind of woman,” he spoke as you stepped back.

With a smile on your lips, you turned around to head back to the castle. “Good night, Daemon.”

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa @superintenseart @immyowndefender @claud012 @ayamenimthiriel @vavafaure1994 @ilovegrishaverse @avadakadabra93

[learnastrowallura]

🕯Mercury in Astrology

Information is from Chris Brennan's video on The Astrology Podcast YouTube channel on the topic of Mercury significations <3

Mercury: writing, speech, words, message, reign, translation, conveying, transmitting, information, interpretations, numbers, analysis, reasoning, details, dialogue, exchange, money, businesses, contracts, commerce, negotiating, indecision, disputation, questioning, doubts, distractions, speed, variety, irregularity, verstatility, changing, adaptability, flexibility, instability, inconsistency, knowledge, philosophy, service, teaching, mind, intelligence, intellect, language, communication, learning, poetry, voice acting, narration, acting, sharing, masculine, neutrality

Sun and Mercury:

Sun and Mercury are both centered around intelligence but in different ways; they complete each other. Sun is about divine knowledge and Mercury is about conveying, transmitting or communicating that knowledge or even perhaps analyzing it and extracting more wisdom as well as detail from it so I found this point particularly interesting. Sun illuminates with its rays and gives clarity by providing us with the truth and then Mercury expands on that truth and shares it with others in its charming versatile way as well

Sun vs Mercury sign:

Mercury does not move further than 28 degrees from the Sun meaning that the Mercury sign will always be the sign before or after the Sun sign (zodiacal signs are divided into 30 degrees) and so there is a bit of a differentiation (for lack of a better word) between who we are and the way we communicate and exchange information with other people if the Mercury and Sun signs are not one of the same. First example that comes to mind is having an Aries Sun Taurus Mercury and two people who are quite close to me have these placements; you would not know they were Aries Suns unless u asked hahaha even though one of them is an Aries rising too so that is something I wanted to note as well. Another example would be Sagittarius sun with Scorpio Mercury adding a lot of intensity to the person's communication style as well (which is something I relate to as you will see later on)

Domicile and exaltation:

Sooo Mercury rules over Gemini and Virgo so those are its domicile signs, it is how Mercury can manifest itself most comfortably whilst embodying its true essence. And then Mercury has its exaltation in Virgo as well which is pretty unique might I say and this gives me the vibes of (this my own way of seeing it so take it with a grain of salt) Mercury being more constructive in the sign of Virgo versus in Gemini just because of this particular distinction

But speaking of these two signs I do think they embody their Mercurial energies quite differently and shoutout to my friend @saturnianoracle for giving me the key words to describe this. First of all they are both analytic but Virgo is more of a skeptic I feel while Gemini tends to have more of an open mind. Virgo wants to see the evidence behind certain things to determine the merit or validity, to a certain extent, of the topics at hand to then decides if it wants to invest energy into looking into it more. It is very grounded as well as organized. With Gemini there is a certain sense of childlike curiosity that takes hold of this sign making it want to explore deep topics and of course stimulate its mind; it dives in without thinking and is more disorganized, inconsistent and chaotic I would say, and it loves conversing about its findings as well. I saw a tiktok video ancient astrology based describing Virgo and Gemini as the most intuitive signs which was fascinating to be honest u can watch it here

Detriment and Fall:

Mercury has its detriment in Sagittarius/Pisces and its fall in the sign of Pisces as well and the interesting thing noted in the video I watched (mentioned at the start) is that Sagittarius and Pisces are ruled by Jupiter, the biggest planet ruling over expansion and abundance, and with Mercury being on the smaller side you can really see that distinction of the Mercurial signs really often looking at the detail of things and well in contrast the Jupiter signs seeing the bigger picture. Also Jupiter being a benefic and ruling over luck makes me think that having these two placements is honestly not so bad tbh

Mercury in first house:

Mercury has its planetary joy in the first house of the self, highlighting the utmost importance of the curious, inquisitive and messenger qualities of the planet. What is interesting is the neutrality of Mercury and how we can link that with its joy being in the 1st house; a house that can be above or below the horizon, so even in this regard it stays neutral and does not "pick a side" if that makes sense; "acting as a bridge between the upper and lower hemispheres of the chart, a bridge between the celestial and terrestial realms which are united in the degree of the ascendant".

Source for the planetery joy information is Hellenistic Astrology: The Study of Fate and Fortune by Chris Brennan

I have made a more detailed post on planetary joys so check it out <3

Neutrality:

Mercury is not seen as a benefic or a malefic; it is considered a neutral planet. Of course, its manifestation and expression can be positive, negative or stay neutral depending on a few factors, such as:

Being in its domicile (Gemini/Virgo) or its exaltation (Virgo) sign is gonna lead it to manifest in a more constructive/beneficial way

Being in its detriment (Sagittarius/Pisces) or its fall (Pisces) sign would generally lead it to manifest in a less constructive way

Aspecting a benefic planet (Jupiter/Venus) would lead Mercury in this instance to manifest in a more constructive way as it is said to adopt the traits of benefic planet it is associated with

Being in a benefic ruled sign; meaning a Jupiter ruled sign as mentioned beforehand (Sagittarius Mercury, Pisces Mercury) or a Venus ruled sign (Taurus Mercury, Libra Mercury) would manifest in the same manner mentioned above

Aspecting a malefic planet (Mars/Saturn) leads Mercury to take on the traits of that malefic planet as well

Being in a malefic ruled sign so either Mars ruled (Aries Mercury, Scorpio Mercury) or Saturn ruled (Capricorn Mercury, Aquarius Mercury) leads us to Mercury adapting to that malefic's traits again

Triplicity also matters and I will make a detailed post on it soon but for now all I can say is that having Mercury in an air sign (Gemini, Aquarius, or Libra) adds on to the "power" that the Mercury placement has within the chart and the support that it gives to the native; if we are dealing with a day chart then Mercury has moderate support in the air sign in question (Saturn being its triplicity lord), and if it is a night chart then it maintains a powerful position within the chart, being its own triplicity ruler. (Source for triplicity rulership intormation is Ancient Astrology: in Theory and Practice: A manual of Traditional Techniques, Volume One: Assessing Planetary Condition by Demetra George)

That is all!! I wanted to go into more detail tbh but time simply does not allow it these days as I have my internship going on as well but I hope this was informative haha

Thank you for reading <3

Masterlist

Paid readings open

[the-fiction-witch]

I Like Him P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - (OC) Jaerra Targaryen [Daughter of Daemon Targaryen & Rhea Royce] Rating - 15 Word Count - 1119

Jaerra followed her father and Lord Oscar out into the fallen godswood of Harenhall where the riverloads had gathered below a cold grey sky. She sat on a large piece of stone that littered the courtyard, as Daemon paced Oscar pacing around him going to toe to toe with Daemon.

"In the deepest darkness comes the dawn... a new lord... a new beginning," Daemon explained, "Let us put all the old unpleasantness behind this,"

Tension bubbled as lords looked between each other,

Oscar spoke up, "Be Welcome my lords, and you have my thanks for answering my summons," he explained his voice raising as he spoke finding his firm voice large enough to address the crowd of lords, "I know I am not the man my grandser was... but I hope to begin well and go on from there."

"Well said." Daemon added, "One thing is clear, the river men honour the old ways and abide by tradition, here then is tradition Grover Tully is dead, Lord Oscar raised up in his place, and you have been summoned here to swear anew your fealty to him. And as his bannermen answer his call!"

"And what would that call be?" a River lord asked,

"In his wisdom, he has pledged his house and yours to me," Daemon answered before Lord Oscar could speak.

"Lord Osacar, for generations we have been guided by the judgement of your forebears, why now should we follow a boy younger then my own sons? When you will align with one... who will desecrate the innocent to reach his aims." Lord Piper asked,

"I did only what was necessary! My lord." Willem Blackwood spoke up, "And I now deliver to you the traitor Amos Bracken and his son."

"No more a traitor to his lands than you Willem Blackwood!"

"I take to heart your words, lord Piper." Oscar broke up the fight before it began, "And I agree, I am young... and I have no love for Daemon Targaryen," Oscar glared at Daemon, briefly his eyes met Jaerra and he went to speak but he continued on, "he has dishonoured himself and the crown with his... comportment here. Nevertheless having so little experience to guide me... my best course is to defer to the oath my grandsire sword to King Viserys when he named Rhaynera Targaryen his heir, I see no reason to cast aside loyalty... no matter how loathsome I... may find her representative the prince."

"King." Daemon glared,

"Consort," Jaerra added,

"Mind your young boy." Daemon glared at Oscar ignoring Jaerra's comment,

"Will you have our army or not?" Oscar asked making his way to Daemon,

Daemon didn't answer,

"I am in the end a Riverman," Oscar said as he walked away, "And the word of my house stands, even if ... some people are unworthy of it."

"Your lord Oscar is bold. But he is... perhaps not wrong, I may have been a touch... enthusiastic in pursuing my aims." Daemon explained as he paced once more. "But don't allow my failings, to keep you from supporting... an upright...man."

"My lord Oscar we honor the old ways, as Prince Daemon says, and the old ways call for justice to be done." The lady of a house spoke up,

"Yes. Justice has been done." Willem protested, "They who bent the knee to the usurper have been brought to heal! And now we unite... before our liege lord and our king consort," Willem pulled his sword and bent the knee offering his blade,

Oscar moved closer and held his hands to the man's offer, "I accept you as my vassal Lord Blackwood... but" he moved away, "I am lord paramount of all river houses, and there is... only one punishment for the crimes you visited upon your neighbours,"

"I did only as his grace, the king! Commanded of me."

"True... but he laid bare his base desires. But you did not have to pursue such savagery," Oscar explained, "You did it. Because you wanted to."

"Our young lord speaks truly," Lord Piper added,

"Seize him," Oscar commanded,

And the Harrenhall men came and took Willem Blackwood by the arms,

"You can't fucking do this... your grace commands them. I have only served you!"

"If his grace wishes to show contrition for his acts and to prove himself deserving of our banners, he must now rectify his grievous error." Oscar explained, "Denounce your crimes," he tells Willem, "And dispense justice."

Willen argued and tried to fight his way out,

"Oh dear..." Lord Strong muttered,

Daemon took a moment to think, and Jaerra watched him closely as he began to move and draw his sword,

"You're grace I've been faithful!" Willem begged,

But with a fast and simple swing, Willem's head was removed from his body, Daemon made his way inside with Lord Strong following, and the river lords slowly left to make their arrangements. But Oscar loomed longer.

Jaerra pushed herself off the rock and made her way over to him, "You handled them..."

"Have I just sent my lords to die?" He asked,

"...Yes," she nodded, "But that's war."

"True," He sighed, "I should have done it..."

"Done it?"

"Given out the sentence."

"Daemon is the one who doomed him long before you did,"

"...I- I admit, I have... not..."

"Look." Jaerra told him, "Long and hard, he is not the first man put to the sword in this war, and he shall far from be the last. Grow used to it now."

"You speak as if you have been to war a thousand times, we have been lucky to be born with only peace."

"Daemon is my father," She reminds,

"That is enough of an answer," He chuckled, "Forgive me, Princess-"

Jaerra scoffed, "Even calling me lady is a formality. It is not needed My Lord Tully." She nodded before she made her way towards the doors,

"Jaerra!"

She turned on her heels, "Yes Oscar?"

"... I find your father loathsome. Utterly so." He explained,

"As many do," she chuckled,

"But... truly, that does not extend to you." He said, "Not even slightly"

Jaerra smiled, "Thank you, and know that I to have no such feelings for you, I think we somewhat think the same of my father."

"I... I must ask, are you remaining here?"

"I am," she nodded, "I shall remain until my queen demands me elsewhere,"

"I- I hope she doesn't demand you, too soon."

"Neither do I," Jaerra agreed, "You shall remain?"

"Yes. With my men." He nodded, "I will set up tent with my men,"

"A tent?" she chuckled, "Should the lord not be in the castle?"

"I thought it may be mess damp in the tent." Oscar joked,

"You may be right," Jaerra laughed, "But not proper for a Liege lord to tent with his men. I will see what can be found for you Oscar."

"Thank you Jaerra," he nodded,

She smiled and headed inside the castle. 

Tags - @llynx7

[the-unexplained-council]

A-Z Fluff Headcanons; Morning Frost

Legends of Avantris; Once Upon A Witchlight

(prompts by me)

Summary: Fluffy relationship headcanons about what it would be like to date Morning Frost from Once Upon A Witchlight, a DnD campaign hosted by Legends of Avantris.

CW: ED mentions (L for Love Language)

Word Count: 6.7k

-~-~-~-

A—ctivites: What would they prefer doing with you? What do they like doing?

• Frost would love to read with you reading alongside him, or even just parallel playing alongside him, or just in the same room. He would love for you to lay your head in his lap as he has a book in one hand, the other gently caressing your head in a silent way of saying ‘I enjoy your presence, thank you for being here with me.’

• He isn’t just closeted indoors, he’d love to explore areas with you as well. He’d prefer if it had something to do with initiating his skills to keep his mind working, but he’s fine if not. He’d take you around the carnival, show you the games and events. He’d also love to just walk around town with you, window shop, read some fliers, anything of the sort. He prefers to stay with you and to keep his mind busy, he doesn’t quite enjoy activities where you’re not doing anything at all. He feels trapped that way, whether he’d admit it or not. It reminds him of the Order.

B—enevolence: How would they show kindness towards you? What would they do for you?

• He’s always including you in things, adding your thoughts into consideration whether in the group setting or just you both alone. He will show you initiative, expressing to you that he cares about your expressions and concerns. He’s also there for you to vent to no matter what, he’s a wonderful listener and can give great advice when you want it.

• Expect a lot of check-ins. If he notices you’re acting slightly out of place he’s already clocked it, immediately and privately asking what is wrong and if you are okay. If you seem upset, he trailing behind the group and gently asking in a low voice so the others don’t hear. He would never put you in the spotlight like that, but he does want to address the issue immediately to resolve your emotions.

C—omfort: How would they go about comforting you? How would they grasp being comforted? How do they handle comfort in general?

• He is the word of wisdom, even in the word of comfort. He will listen to your expressions if you choose to speak to him, and would ask you if you’d like advice. If you do, he’d give you the best advice he can for the situation. He will always preface if he understands personally or does not, always expressing that you should never feel inclined to listen, but he is always going to give you his thoughts and his logic of what to do or what should be done. There is a good chance he may just say “I will admit, I do not understand how you feel in this certain situation, though I do want to properly understand through your eyes so I can better support you in some way.” He is always going to be 100% upfront with you with these sorts of things.

• If you don’t want to talk to him, he will never force you. He will instead ask if you’d like a distraction from things, or if you’d like time for yourself or just a moment of silence with him. If all you need is to cry, he’s holding you into his chest and gently massaging circles into your back and holding your head. If you need to scream he’s got a pillow or folded blankets. He’s there to support in other ways.

• As for comforting Frost, I honestly don’t think you’d really ever tell that he’d need it. If he’s upset, you’ll only be able to tell if he’s being outright passive aggressive, crying, or swearing. By then, he’s extremely at the limit of his emotions. He’d prefer being alone at that point, he doesn’t want people to see him that way. He feels uncomfortable, unnatural? He feels worse when someone coddles him in those moments, so if you do want to comfort him in those moments it’s most likely going to be if he asks. Otherwise, helping at a distance would be the best course of action. In some cases, gentle scratches behind his ears may work to relax and ease him as well, but only if you guys are already laying down.

D—ates: How would they go about dates with you? What are their preferred dates? What would they not like as dates?

• He honestly isn’t a really big date person, believe it or not. He never really thinks much about them, but when he does he prefers something related to your common activities. He wants very personal, non-public dates with you. You guys can do one of those dates where you both start an art piece and swap with each other every 5 minutes for 30 minutes to add to each other's works, or sculpt the same thing from clay together. Playing games together, swapping things with each other, things like that are his jam.

• He’d also love to have a picnic under the stars with you. The both of you could make the food together, or Frost could ask Kremy to prepare the food for the both of you instead. While under the stars, he’d love to info dump about it to you if you’d like to listen. He just wants really intimate moments with you, and when there’s other people around he doesn’t feel like either of you are truly yourselves.

• I don’t think there are any dates he’d inherently refuse to go on or would hate, but he’d be uncomfortable going on a date that is fancy or uptight. He would feel like there is too much pressure for the both of you, you both wouldn’t be yourselves, and he doesn’t like that.

E—ffort: How much effort would they put into your relationship? How would they show their efforts?

• He’s putting everything he can into this effort. There’s something you both need to work together on? He’s on it for solutions. You need more support from him? More work load from him? He’s on it, he’ll balance it and make it all work. You need him to relax, back off for a bit? Aye, he’s on it. He is going to make sure this relationship is balanced, that there will be absolutely no foul play of the sort in any instance. He’s putting in his all.

• Even if it’s nonverbal from you, he’s going to pick up most of the cues. If he doesn’t pick a cue up, he’ll observe the situation more thoroughly next time. He’s going to reseal those cracks that form with a proper foundation, or at least try his best to.

• Keep in mind the poor tabaxi would unconsciously keep a work load on his back with this. He’ll get so wrapped up in the cracks he might forget about other things of the relationship, at least at first. He has hidden anxieties, and they like to roam in those secret cracks that form. Remind him he’s doing great, that he can relax and not be so tense with the situation. It’s a two way street, you both have to meet and work it all out. Remind him he’s not alone, because he will forget.

F—ight: How would they go about fights with you? How would they handle them? How would they resolve them if at all?

• Frost is a very calm and reasonable person, I really don’t think you would actually argue with him other than a minor disagreement that gets resolved rather quickly. Frost always wants to get to the solution and find the paths of resolution. I don’t see him really starting anything either, it would most likely be something that starts over very minor things from either misinformation or confusion. However, it also depends on how you do about arguments as well.

• If his partner is even headed like himself, it would easily be talked through and communicated. The argument would be over sitting the hour, the both of you talking about solutions to the issue or even discussing how to resolve it in the future.

• If Frost’s partner is rather argumentative, it could go two ways. Frost would stay level headed, trying to explain in a way that would diffuse the situation while also adding his side of it all. If the partner is also stubborn with arguments, he’s going to get irritated. He will never get mad by any means, but getting irritated he might get a bit more short with you and a lot more direct to get it over with.

• After an argument, no matter how heated it was, he’ll always apologize for acting out of line, even if he wasn’t at all. It’s ingrained into him that he is the person who should be blamed and at fault due to the Order. It is a habit he can not break no matter what, he was conditioned to be the peace while also staying strong and stern with his beliefs.

G—entle: How gentle are they with you mentally, physically and emotionally? How do they show these things?

• He’s so careful and gentle with you, though not that you’ll shatter like glass and you’re in a fragile type of way, more like a one of a kind sentimental piece he wants to last forever. If his partner is on the more fragile side, he’ll calculate his words and expressions when it comes to comfort or even expressing negative news of any kind. He doesn’t look down on you in anyway, and he wants to express that he doesn’t and doesn’t want to make you feel like he would. He won’t baby you and infantilize you, he won’t treat you like you’re this steel wall unneeding of attention.

• Frost is very particular with making sure comfort and safety is first for you. Being in the order for so long, he was conditioned from the beginning that he must be a steel wall at all times, and it honestly ruined him. He doesn’t wish that on you, or anyone, ever in his life. He is scared he will make you feel this way, make you feel like a shape of clay to be mended some sort of way.

• When he holds you, it’s always going to be full of tender respect. He will only ever touch you in reasonable places, never once lingering where he shouldn’t. His touch is like he’s holding a pillow he cherishes, it’s very soft and makes you want to melt in his paws. He wants to give you everything he didn’t have as a child.

H—onesty: How honest are they with you? Do they hide things from you? What do they hide?

•He’s the most honest person you’ll ever meet. If you ask him something, he’ll tell you right away. If something happened that he thinks you should know right away, he’s already on it. If he doesn’t want to tell you for whatever reason, he will express that he doesn’t want to for a reason he’d vaguely explain and then ask if you’d really like the truth or if you’d like him to keep it. He isn’t going to lie that he doesn’t want to tell you, why would he? He may have secrets, but the only secrets he’d only really avoid are ones he views as traumatic.

• Secrets about his past and what he went through to become a sorcerer are things he’d prefer not to say, as well as ones about the event of Episode 46. He’ll tell you anything you want to know, and if he honestly doesn’t know he’ll say that. He has no reason to hide anything from you.

I—Love You: How would the first “I Love You” come from them? Would they say it first? How would they react when you tell them that you love them?

• There are three ways this could happen. As a set personal rule of his, he will refuse to say ‘I love you’ first. He finds the phrase really intimate, and he holds it to the highest importance and is very seldom using this phrase. He thinks it’s disrespectful to use it like throwing candy out during a parade, if you’re saying it all of the time it starts to lose its meaning. ‘I love you’ is something he saves for when he knows you are his person 100%, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. He doesn’t even say it to his friends, and he doesn’t even say it after you guys cuddles or kiss. And ‘I Iove you’ can take years to get out of him. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, he just wants to save it for the perfect time to express he loves you properly for the first time. And if he does say it first, it’s definitely a minimum of a year, a maximum of 2. This is only if both of you are waiting to say it.

• If you say it first, he’ll be slightly weary depending on how early in you use it. If you start to use it immediately he’ll express how he feels about the phrase and request you to wait a little longer before saying it. He really wouldn’t want the phrase to lose its meaning. However, if it takes you a few months (a minimum of 4 depending on the circumstances) and you tell him you love him, he will most likely say it back after.

• Now, lastly, if he was in a forced confession ordeal he’s going to hesitate and be very fearful, not wanting to scare you away or even disrespect you. He isn’t immune to peer pressure, and if he’s pushed into saying ‘I love you’ earlier than on his own terms, he’s going to make sure he makes the moment as sentimental as he can. He wants to expressed that he does genuinely love you by explaining his reasoning right after he tells you. Imagine Gricko teasing him and (in a friendly ‘help my anxious friend’ manner) ushering him to tell you, that sort of thing.

J—ealousy: How would they express their jealousy? How would they handle their jealousy? How would they approach you with it?

• Frost would be very quiet and at a distance. It takes a lot for Frost to become jealous, but when he is jealous of someone flirting with his partner or gifting you gifts that aren’t from him, etc, he’ll never direct that jealousy to you negatively, it will always be towards the other person. His eyes will be fixated in a hunters look towards said person, tail swaying in aggressive and agitated flicks, body stiff and unmoving. He won’t let you see it, though. The only thing you’d see would be the flicks of his tail side to side.

• Frost can shake off jealousy fairly quickly when you are in his arms again. He’ll shake off the stress with the fluff of his tail and groom your head a few times as a stress relief. He will never outright say he is jealous, or that he is jealous of someone around you, and even if he does attempt to keep it hidden, he won’t hide it very well. You’ll see the subtle hunter’s look in his eyes as he looks at you, much softer when they look at you though still there. You’ll see the fluff of his cheeks, neck and tail from the stress. You’ll see the slight stiffness of his shoulders, more relaxed than when he looked at the cause of jealousy. You calm him.

• He gets this way mostly because of his time in the Order. He isn’t insecure, it’s just the matter of being challenged by someone else in an attempt. Frost is jealous of the fact that they can express verbal affection, they have something he doesn’t, and it may win your favor. As much as he trusts you, he is always jealous of the fact they are better at something than he is, especially towards his lover.

K—iss: How would they like to kiss? What is their “style?” How do they react to kisses? How do they treat kisses?

• He’s very savory and sweet with his kisses. He’s not very big on PDA, it’s just something he doesn’t do very often. A kiss in public would be a peck on the head or cheek, very soft and gentle. Kisses are also very intimate for him, while he doesn’t mind them being littered about, he still thinks they are very intimate and sentimental. He doesn’t mind very quick pecks in public, but that’s all there is to kisses in that area.

• In private, on the other hand, it is very different. He’s drunk on lovingly lipped kisses, melting into your lips whenever he has them. Kiss him on the lips and he’s looking up at you like a love sick kitten. It’s one of the only times you’ll see how big his pupils grow like a cat with yarn. It’s a physical way of ‘I love you’ to him. He’ll go nuts if you hold each other and kiss a long lip filled kiss, but only the lips. Any other types of kisses on the mouth aren’t very common with him, he believes there are certain kisses for certain moments. If you’re laying down for the night (in private, so like an inn for just the two of you) and you kiss him once, expect about 30 minutes of sleepy off and on kisses together.

• Now, since he’s a tabaxi, we have to include grooming, cmon. Grooming his partner is more or less an indirect kiss to him. He’ll wake up in the morning with a tired sandpaper tongue in your hair to stimulate his understimulated mind, or calm himself for the night to get ready for bed. He loves grooming your hair, or even your shoulders as you both cudde. It’s another intimate, yet very multiple meaning, type of ‘I love you.’ Expect to be groomed in the mornings and nights at the very least, even if it’s very small kitten kisses.

L—ove Language: What is their preferred love language with you? What love languages would work best with them?

• He is a large acts of service type of guy, as well as a big listener. He’s observant all of the time, he’s always listening to little things you spew out no matter the situation. Sometimes you don’t even need to say anything, he’s noticed something and has made a mental note of it already. He will perform tasks to cheer you up, make some things easier, along those lines. He wouldn’t mind cuddles, though he isn’t very big on it either.

• He’ll make you breakfast in the mornings after he meditates when he has the supplies, making sure to have a balanced nutritional serving to start the day. If you have issues with eating, especially with portions and limitations of food, he’s clocked it. He’ll very cautiously make sure you eat enough calories for the morning, even if he has to hide what he makes inside of it all.

• If he notices you’re low on something, you’ll find the tabaxi gifting it to you within the next few days. If he notices there’s something on your mind bothering you, he’s getting something to express your issues or just getting/doing something to cheer you up. He notices, even if he won’t straight up say it. He’s going to do anything at all to show you he cares for you.

M—emories: What memories would they cherish with you the most? How well would they remember things about you?

• He likes to think a lot about the more sentimental memories between him and his friends, but especially with his lover. He will cherish your dates, your talks, your learning experiences, but when it comes to sentimental values he’s all over it. If you made him a gift for him to keep on him always, he’ll remember the delivery and the meaning behind it and keep it on him. He’ll remember little subtle things that you yourself might not even notice about yourself. He’ll see how your eyes light up in certain situations, he’ll see how your shoulders slouch when you’re disappointed. He’s already filing it away in his head.

• When the confession happens, it is his favorite memory for quite a while. He’ll think about it, your reaction to it and the actions that come afterward. If an engagement is involved, that’s immediately his next favorite. There will of course be your firsts for everything, and he loves those milestones. He’ll cherish the milestones internally for the rest of his life with you. First kiss, first cuddle, first date, things like that. He’s a very analytical person, I wouldn’t see why he wouldn’t cherish these moments.

N—icknames: What type of nicknames would they call you? How would they treat the nicknames you give them? How important are nicknames to them?

• His nicknames will be mostly more formal, as in ‘my love’, ‘my dear’ and anything else along those lines. It’s more intimate sounding, more polite. It slips off of his tongue to address you daily, it’s officially your title to everyone around you. He will have some other nicknames for when the both of you are alone, more personal ones. He has little names for you that reflect your personality, your favorite things, your little mannerisms. It’s something much more relaxed than the formal names he often gives you, something more personable. Only the two of you will know if these names, he will only sulumly use it and will avoid wearing down its importance (which in his eyes is using it constantly).

• Nicknames are titles to him, and they are important to him in the aspect that it gives you a sort of personal trust with one another. You are his love, he is yours. He loves being given nicknames by you (as long as it isn’t outright an insult) and even if it sounds a little silly, he was given that name by you. He may request not to use MF, but he secretly kind of likes it as stupid as it is. Just use it behind a closed door, he might allow it../hj

O—bviousness: How obvious was it for you to notice they liked you? How obvious is it now for other people know if you’re together or not?

• You never knew. You never would have suspected it. He hides it so well, no matter how close you both end up being as friends, you will never actually tell he ends up falling for you. No one in the group except for Gricko would know, maybe even Kremy. They’d only notice through how his eyes soften for you just slightly when your back is turned, how his tail sways in full content out of your sight, how his voice very slightly raises in tone. Very, very small things that can easily be missed if you aren’t looking. Even if you do notice how he does more things for you, it would never come off as a romantic crush on you.

• He would observe you, watch and try to see if he can figure out if you like him back. He’s very cautious, he’s anxious and aware that he might misinterpret any signals and confess when you weren’t interested at all, he'd ruin your friendship. He’s very, very cautious of you and how you view him. If he doesn’t want you to know, you’re not knowing. The only way either of you would end up together is if you confess first, or if Gricko helps Frost out to confess to you.

• In other words, he could be crushing on you any time between months to years and you may never know.

P—ersistance: How persistent are they with the relationship? Are they proactive in the relationship to keep it fueling?

• He’s going to be very persistent to make sure the relationship is working and healthy. He’ll be consistent with his affection with you, having one-on-one moments with you, making sure you feel cared for and loved by him, etc. If there is something that needs recalibrated in the relationship he’s on it, if he needs to seesaw the responsibilities of the relationship for a bit when you don’t feel as motivated some days, or vice versa, he is always going to be persistent on making sure it is never one-sided.

• I feel like Frost would always make sure to have some plans already pre-meditated to try to fix solutions quicker. He wants to prepare for these things, basically. If he isn’t prepared, he’ll make sure to compensate and handle it accordingly.

Q—uest: If you were being challenged in the relationship, how would they take it? How would they work through it with you?

• Frost is always challenged by a lot of life situations, so this would be nothing short of just another day. However, despite his outward appearance to not be bothered, internally he’s going to feel so much more pressure and worry over these challenges. He cares for you, he loves you, he doesn’t want these challenges to scare you away or make you feel unwell in any sort of way. He wants to fix and solve these challenges as quickly and efficiently as possible, but the worry is still going to be there.

• If the challenge is external, his first priority is you. He’ll want to talk to you about it, come to an agreement on how to work forward together. He wants to tell you his reasonings and hear your own, he wants to make sure that before anything is set in stone when moving forward that you are content, or at least comfortable with the option chosen. He will never combat something like that without you, unless he absolutely has to.

• If the challenge is within the relationship, he wants to work it out with you. He wants to fix anything he can, work with you and work on himself if need be. He doesn’t want to lose the relationship with you no matter what it is. Talking first, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll probably work behind the scenes to fix whatever the issue is. Tinker about and experiment with it, in a way.

R—espect: How much respect do they show you through the relationship? How do you show it? What does respect mean to them from you?

• God, he has so much respect for you. He respects you in everything you say and do, if you’re dating him there’s no doubt about it. He’s respectful of every boundary you have, of every decision you make. He’s supporting you and respecting you as a person. He will never utter a negative connotation of you, and he will never let anyone talk about you that way either to your face or behind your back.

• He holds you to the highest regard, almost just barely higher than himself in some instances. He is thankful for you. Respect is given, however you have earned more respect as time goes on. Respect is very much conditioned into him from the Order, and he doesn’t let it go very often. He believes everyone should have respect, but you deserve so much more in his eyes.

S—afe: What would they do to ensure your safety with them? What would they do to make sure you feel safe with them as a person?

• Frost is, of course, a very observant person. When in new, potentially dangerous, areas he is always watching. His ears are swiveling, he makes sure you’re beside him and/or in sight of him. If you want to stay in his arms he will keep an arm around you, maybe even his tail. If you want to ‘hide’ so to speak, he’ll let you have his robe to be enveloped in. If you voice that you feel unsafe, he’ll fix it immediately. Don't want to go into that forest? He’ll find a way around. Don’t feel comfortable in this inn? No problem, you guys can find another one or camp outside the town outskirts. Don’t like the person scurrying around? He’ll fix that.

• When it comes to combat, he will constantly be monitoring where you are and your status. He will tell you in your mind where you should move to so that you are out of range, and if he finds a weak point in a particularly strong opponent. If you get injured he’ll find his way to you, guard you with his body and get you to safety if possible. He trusts your ability to decipher the danger of a situation, but just in case, he’ll always be right by your side. Pull you back with his paw or tail, teleport you away, anything at all. He would do anything to protect you, blow up as many minds as he can.

T—rust: Do they trust you in the relationship? Do they feel nervous or completely relaxed in the relationship?

• He knows you very well if he’s going to date you, and he is very comfortable with himself and his insecurities. He trusts you and it never crosses his mind at all if you might be cheating. You’re out at a bar and talking to a guy other than Frost? He watches the situation to make sure you’re comfortable and safe, but doesn’t eavesdrop or look over. He knows you’ll make the right choice, he doesn’t have any doubts about it.

• If you both are talking about a topic and someone tries to say you may be lying, he never would consider the fact that you might. He trusts your words and that you would tell him, if not anyone else, the truth of any situation or knowledge. He isn’t blind sighted by any means, but he puts his trust into you for practically everything once the both of you are a couple. He trusts you with his robe, his personally impactful belongings, all of it. He doesn’t do that with just anyone by any means.

• If this trust is broken once, however, it will never be repaired again.

U—topia: What is their perfect dream/future like and where do you play a part in it?

• Frost’s main dream is to, at the bare minimum, have you and at least Gricko and Hootsie by his side no matter where he does. He doesn’t have a solid end goal in his life, he doesn’t think about having a house of his own or a secure job. If he has to, he will, but he’s a very ‘go where the wind takes me’ type of person in the sense that he has never really had the habit of security no matter where he was, not that he remembers anyways. He’d love to have all of his friends, though he is prepared if there is a split in the group. He just wants you and Gricko and Hootsie. I feel like he really wouldn’t care where you all end up, he won’t complain either way, though he’d be much happier still traveling and digesting knowledge from around Avantris. But there is 100% a defined want he has thought about and looks forward to in his future, and it’s kittens/kids. He would like 2 children preferably, with him remembering to be an only child he felt rather lonely because of it, he wouldn’t want that for his kids. However, if he can’t have kids in his lifetime he’s already accepted it.

• If you decide to settle down, he’ll happily work with you to find a place to live. He’ll do some quests on the side, find a main secure job at a library or educational placement. Or, if available, he’d love to stay in the circus setting. Kids would be easier in this setting.

• If you decide to continue with your travels, Frost would be just as compliant. He’s used to this traveling, there’s nothing he’d change about it. It’s been your life for so long already, why change anything about it? Kids wouldn’t be impossible in this route, though Frost wouldn’t want to bring kids around if the living or situations were unsafe or unhappy.

• Basically, either choice has sacrifice to him, there isn’t a single desired future/utopia in his mind that fits his every want. As long as he has you, in the simplest terms, he’ll be fine.

V—alue: How much do they value the relationship? How important is it to them?

• He believed this relationship is one of, if not the most, important relationship he’s ever had. Despite his relationships with his friends, ex-flings, or even his parents or master, your relationship is the most impactful and important. He is giving you his all, his vulnerable person and his iron will.

• He believes that this relationship has so much to give, in not only a cooperative sense, but also a life-learning experience. He adores you, he loves you, even as indirectly affectionate as he is. If something happened to this relationship, he will 100% be a different person if it was broken in anyway.

W—ish: What is something they wish could happen when it comes to your relationship? Why?

• I believe the one thing he would wish for in the relationship is to be more affectionate. He sees these couples show each other affection and care and love, he wants to do that with you. He wants you to feel loved and cared for, he wants you to never doubt his love for you. He feels as though because he isn’t as affectionate in an open setting, you will feel as if he’s hiding you or doesn’t love you. That’s not the truth, he just doesn’t know how it is properly supposed to be done, at least in his mind. He is indirectly worried about the whole situation, that something will happen in some way if he is open with his relationship to you around strangers.

• Other than that, he’s very content. He never asks for much for anything, so I can’t imagine him wishing for much in a relationship that he works and cooperates with his partner with all of the time. Any wishes of relationship improvement is talked and worked through.

X—tra: Freebie!

• Despite not being very affectionate outside of closed doors.. behind closed doors he’s such a kitten when he wants to be. He’s holding you when you’re both laying down for the night, he’s nuzzling his cheeks into you and holding your middle as you work on something. He twists his tail around your leg or waist when he can. He is happily expressing his care and attention to you once you two are completely alone behind closed doors.

• Are you cold? He’s your new heat source. Have a headache? He’ll hide your face into his chest and purr, run his paw over your hair and groom it down. Have a bad day? He’ll help you relax and wrap all around you.

• When he’s in a particularly more playful mood, expect him to roll over on you or against you. Have you ever seen a tiger do those plop rub things? Yeah that’s him. He lets his cat instincts unfurl with you when that security is kept. Be prepared for Frost to look up at you with those big tiger eyes as a silent plea to let his cat instincts loose to show his love for you. And if he has a ball of yarn? Oh boy, be prepared for a lot of Frost pounces.

• But of course, imagine all of this with that neutral monotone look. It makes it 10x funnier, but he just can’t emote facially except for an occasional smile, so imagine Frost playing and pouncing on yarn with the most “-_-“ face known to man. This is partially a coping mechanism for him, partially him fucking around because he usually can’t.

Y—earning: How do they react to you being gone? How do they cope with being away from you? How would they treat you when you come back?

• With all honesty, I believe Frost would be relatively fine being without you for a few weeks. He’d feel how his arms are empty every night you’re away and not sleep as well as he would with you there, though he wouldn’t start to miss you and want you back until maybe 5 days in. After that, he’d start to progress with how much he misses you, wanting nothing but to groom you in the mornings and nights and hold you close. He understands you’re away for a reason, and he won’t outright complain or make a fuss about it. The others will definitely notice, though.

• Frost doesn’t realize just how drunk on your love he is until you’re gone for a week or more. It’s his ritual to hold you at night and groom your hair or give you little kisses, it’s his ritual to wrap his tail end around your leg as you stand beside him while the both of you tag behind the group, it’s his ritual to hold your pinkie as you walk together. He catches himself expecting you in his arms every morning after a few days, and ends up disappointed without you.

• He definitely acts fine and his life is unbothered relatively, though after maybe a week and a half he wants you back already. 2 weeks feels like a month to him without you there, just come back!! The others definitely noticed him being slightly more irritable than usual without you there, whether the tabaxi noticed or not. They 100% noticed how his tail stutters at the mention of your name when you’ve been gone, and they noticed how the tabaxi’s golden eyes have sunken in from improper sleep.

• “I’m fine, {y/n} will return in no time.. Gricko don’t touch that, it’s {y/n}’s. Don’t touch {y/n}’s stuff. It’s yours? It smells like {y/n}, leave it be for now.” Usually he wouldn’t care, but when you’re gone he just wants to smell your things, have your scent so it’s like you’re still beside him.

• Expect a ton of nuzzles, happy tiger chuffs, cuddles, grooms, and kisses as soon as you get back. He’s rather impatient, wanting to scoop you up and carry you off to have a moment with you. He wants to make up what was lost while you were away.

• The Order conditioned him not to be dependent on a person, never be weak in the absence of the person you admire or desire. He insists it didn’t affect him, though it really did. He’ll want to tear up walls for you, waiting for you to come back all while he tells himself that he doesn’t care that you’re gone. He’s very contradicting about this very simple thing, but it’s just one of those minor things the tabaxi can’t shake despite his intelligence and self awareness.

Z—eal: What would they do to the extent of your relationship? Is there anything they would sacrifice the relationship for?

• He would do anything he needs to. He’ll put a lot of patience and time into this relationship, even if it takes a long time. He’d fight for it, figuratively and literally, and do anything to keep the bond strong and unwavering. He’s never had anything to sacrifice for himself, though if there is something that he’d struggle to sacrifice are his friends. They mean so much to him, but you mean a lot to him too. If he had to pick between one or the other, it would be almost impossible for him to truly pick unless he was forcibly pulled to one. Either choice he’d have incredible guilt, he’d never fully be happy after a situation like that. If it came to the chance that he had to pick, he just wouldn’t, and that is one of the times you’d see him give up on trying to solve a solution. In other words, he’d do anything at all for you and this relationship.

[novaursa]

The Second Daughter (stone by stone)

- Summary: You were born as a second daughter under the watchful eye of a full moon. And just like the moon you were beautiful—and cursed to exist only in the dark.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (adult themes)

- Previous part: herald's gifts

- Next part: raven across the realm

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @l3thal-l0lita @ninihrtss @barnes70stark

The meeting was held in a smaller chamber of Casterly Rock, its walls lined with tapestries depicting the victories of House Lannister. A long wooden table stretched the length of the room, with maps, documents, and records meticulously arranged for review. Jason Lannister sat at the head of the table, his posture commanding, his green eyes focused as he glanced over the assembled men. To his right was Maester Halford, quill and parchment in hand to record the proceedings. To his left sat Ser Alester Lannister, his demeanor casual but watchful.

Across the table sat Lord Allard Reyne, clad in a fine crimson doublet adorned with the sigil of his house: the red lion rampant. He lounged in his chair, his expression one of barely veiled smugness as he traced a finger along the edge of the map before him. Beside him was a scribe, a young man with ink-stained fingers and an air of nervous energy.

The tension in the room was visible, a silent undercurrent that simmered beneath the surface as the investigation into the disputed mines continued. Jason had already presented his findings, the impartial witness—Maester Halford—verifying the accuracy of the records. But Allard had proven adept at prolonging the discussion, his comments veering off course more than once.

“And, of course,” Allard said now, leaning back in his chair, “it’s important to consider not just the immediate yields of these mines, but the long-term impact on both our houses. After all, alliances are built on mutual benefit, are they not?”

Jason’s lips thinned, his patience wearing visibly thin. “The evidence is clear, Allard,” he said, his tone clipped. “The mines fall squarely within Lannister lands. Any suggestion otherwise is baseless.”

Allard smirked, clearly enjoying the opportunity to needle Jason further. “Baseless? I wouldn’t go that far. But no matter,” he added, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ve more important things to concern myself with these days.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. “Such as?”

Allard’s grin widened, and he straightened in his chair, as though preparing to deliver a grand announcement. “I am to be married,” he said, his tone self-satisfied. “My bride may not be a beloved princess of the realm, but she is a lady of considerable standing in the Westerlands. An advantageous match, I dare say.”

Jason leaned back slightly, his gaze steady and cold. “Congratulations,” he said flatly, the word devoid of warmth.

Allard, undeterred, continued, “She’s the daughter of Lord Harwyn Lefford. A fine woman, with a strong lineage. Our union will strengthen ties between our houses and solidify my position in the region. And you, Jason? Surely you must know the satisfaction of such a match.”

Jason’s jaw tightened, his irritation evident, but he allowed a slow, deliberate smile to form. “I do,” he said, his voice steady but laced with quiet pride. “Though I suspect our situations are quite different.”

Allard tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

Jason gestured toward the open window that overlooked the cliffs. “While you speak of solidifying your position, my wife has already ensured mine. A Targaryen princess—a woman of grace, wisdom, and strength. A dragonrider, no less.”

Allard’s smirk faltered slightly, but he masked it quickly. “Ah, yes. Princess Y/N. A fine match indeed. And Silverwing… a magnificent beast, I’m sure.”

Jason’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Magnificent doesn’t even begin to describe her. She’s sunbathing on the cliffs as we speak. Have you seen her, Allard? The sight of a dragon resting in the sun, her wings spread, her scales glinting like molten silver—it’s something to behold. A reminder of the power and legacy my wife brings to our house.”

The mention of Silverwing seemed to unsettle Allard, though he masked it with a chuckle. “A dragon is impressive, I’ll admit. But dragons don’t dig mines or make deals, Jason.”

Jason leaned forward, his voice dropping to a calm, dangerous tone. “No, they don’t. But they do remind men of what happens when they overstep their bounds.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Jason’s words settling heavily over the table. Even Maester Halford paused in his note-taking, his quill hovering over the parchment.

Allard cleared his throat, his bravado slipping for just a moment. “Well,” he said, forcing a smile. “It seems we’ve covered all there is to discuss today. I trust your maester will see to it that the records are properly maintained.”

Jason’s gaze didn’t waver. “Oh, you can be sure of that, Allard.”

The meeting ended shortly after, with Allard departing in a flurry of polite words and thinly veiled annoyance. As the door closed behind him, Ser Alester let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“You certainly know how to put a man in his place, cousin,” he said, clapping Jason on the shoulder.

Jason exhaled, his expression softening as he turned back to the table. “It’s not about putting him in his place,” he said. “It’s about reminding him that Casterly Rock stands firm—and so do I.”

The nursery was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the high, arched windows. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, a comforting presence in the newly finished room. You stood in the center of it, cradling the finished embroidery in your hands—a delicate blanket adorned with a golden lion and a silver dragon intertwined, their tails curling into an ornate border. Every stitch had been made with care, and as your fingers traced the design, you felt a deep sense of accomplishment and love for the child growing within you.

Guiding yourself slowly, your fingertips brushed along the edge of the crib. It was sturdy, carved from the finest oak, with the sigils of House Lannister and House Targaryen etched into its sides. You placed the blanket inside with reverence, smoothing it gently before stepping back. A small smile graced your lips as you imagined the day your baby would rest there, wrapped in the warmth of the love you had sewn into every thread.

The soft crackle of embers in the hearth drew your attention next. The dragon egg Daemon had sent rested in a small iron cradle, nestled close to the fire's warmth. Its shimmering surface of silver and gold reflected the flickering flames, creating an almost ethereal glow. The sight of it filled you with a mix of wonder and curiosity.

Carefully, you made your way to the hearth, your hands trailing lightly along the edge of the table as a guide. The warmth of the fire grew stronger as you knelt beside it, one hand reaching out to stoke the embers with a poker. The gentle heat brushed against your face, and you felt the comforting weight of the egg nearby.

"Princess!" Alys’s voice rang out from the doorway, her tone sharp with alarm. Footsteps hurried across the room, and you felt her hands on your arm as she gently pulled you back. “My lady, please! So close to the hearth—you could have burned yourself!”

You turned your face toward her, a calm smile on your lips. “There’s no need for alarm, Alys,” you said softly. “I was careful.”

Alys frowned, her concern evident as she guided you a step away from the fire. “Careful or not, my lady, it makes my heart race to see you near the flames. Especially now, with the baby.”

You chuckled lightly, placing a reassuring hand on hers. “The fire won’t harm me. I only meant to tend the embers—to keep the egg warm.”

Alys glanced toward the egg, her brow furrowing. “Do you truly think it will hatch?” she asked hesitantly. “I’ve heard tales of dragon eggs that never stir, lying dormant for centuries.”

You tilted your head, considering her words. “Perhaps,” you said thoughtfully. “But there’s always hope. And if there’s one thing my family has taught me, it’s that dragons are full of surprises.”

Alys remained silent for a moment, her gaze lingering on the egg. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Even if it doesn’t hatch, it’s a treasure unlike any other.”

You smiled, your hand lightly brushing over the cradle where the egg rested. “It’s more than a treasure, Alys. It’s a symbol—a reminder of where I come from. And a gift for the child who will carry that legacy forward.”

Alys nodded, her expression softening. “You’re right, my lady. It is a part of your family, just as much as it is of you.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the quiet crackle of the fire filling the room. Finally, Alys stepped back, her tone lighter. “But next time, please call for me if you want the embers tended. I’ll not have you singeing your skirts.”

You laughed softly, the sound warm. “Very well, Alys. I’ll leave the embers to you.”

As she moved to tidy the room, you lingered by the hearth, one hand resting lightly on the iron cradle. The egg’s warmth seeped into your palm, and for a brief moment, you could almost feel a faint pulse beneath the smooth surface—an echo of something alive, waiting. Whether it was your imagination or something more, you couldn’t say. But the hope that stirred in your heart was enough.

The wind howled faintly across the battlements of Casterly Rock as Jason Lannister stood with Ser Alester, gazing out over the rolling waves of the Sunset Sea. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the towering fortress in warm hues, highlighting the intricate carvings of lions and other Lannister heraldry that adorned its walls. Jason’s eyes swept over the ancient stonework, his expression thoughtful as he gestured to the masons gathered nearby.

“Here,” he said, pointing to the eastern wall overlooking the main gate. “And there, on the western towers. I want them placed prominently, where every visitor and bannerman can see them.”

The master mason, a grizzled man with calloused hands and a calculating gaze, nodded. “Aye, my lord. But just to confirm, you want dragons—proper Valyrian beasts—carved into the stone?”

Jason turned, his expression resolute. “Yes. Majestic, powerful, wings spread wide. They must look as though they belong here, as much a part of the Rock as the lions themselves.”

Behind him, Ser Alester Lannister raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “Dragons on the battlements of Casterly Rock?” he asked, his tone equal parts amusement and disbelief. “Forgive me, cousin, but why would you alter the aesthetic of our ancestral home? The lions have stood watch for centuries.”

Jason turned to face him, his gaze calm but firm. “I’m not altering anything, Alester. I’m adding to it.”

“Adding dragons,” Alester repeated, his smirk widening. “And here I thought lions didn’t share their dens.”

Jason stepped closer, his voice steady and measured. “Lions don’t share their dens, but they do recognize strength. These dragons are not a replacement for our history, Alester—they’re a reminder of the bloodline that is about to join it. My wife is a Targaryen. My child will carry the blood of both lion and dragon. It’s only fitting that the Rock reflects that.”

Alester studied him for a moment, his grin fading slightly as he considered Jason’s words. “So this is about legacy,” he said, his tone more serious now. “You want everyone who sees these walls to know the future of House Lannister.”

Jason nodded, his green eyes gleaming with determination. “Exactly. These carvings will stand as a testament to the union of our houses. They’ll remind every vassal, every visitor, and every enemy that the strength of House Lannister now carries the fire of Valyria as well.”

The wind tugged at Alester’s cloak as he glanced toward the masons, who were already sketching preliminary designs into their ledgers. “It’s bold,” he admitted, a faint smile returning to his lips. “And it will certainly give the Reynes and the other lords something to talk about.”

Jason allowed himself a small smile. “Let them talk. The more they dwell on it, the more they’ll understand what it means.”

The master mason stepped forward, holding up a rough sketch of a dragon, its wings unfurled and its claws outstretched. “Like this, my lord?”

Jason studied the drawing for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that’s the shape I want. Make it imposing, but elegant. A dragon worthy of standing beside a lion.”

The mason bowed. “It will be done, my lord. We’ll begin work on the first tower by week’s end.”

As the masons dispersed to begin preparations, Alester clapped a hand on Jason’s shoulder, his grin turning sly. “You do realize the poets will have a field day with this, don’t you? ‘Lions and dragons entwined’—sounds like the beginning of a ballad.”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Let them write their ballads. History will remember the truth. This isn’t just about lions and dragons, Alester. It’s about ensuring that the legacy we build here endures for generations.”

Alester nodded, his amusement tempered by a hint of admiration. “You’ve always thought ahead, Jason. I’ll give you that.”

Jason turned back to the battlements, his gaze sweeping over the endless horizon. “When you’re entrusted with something as great as Casterly Rock, you don’t have the luxury of thinking small. This isn’t just my legacy—it’s for my wife, my child, and every Lannister who comes after us.”

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ancient stone, as Jason stood tall against the wind. In his mind’s eye, he could already see the completed carvings—the fierce lions and the proud dragons standing side by side, guardians of a future that he was determined to secure.

The dining hall of Casterly Rock glowed warmly under the flickering light of the chandeliers, their golden glow casting soft shadows over the long table where the Lannister family had gathered. The faint aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and spiced wine filled the air as servants moved deftly, refilling goblets and replacing emptied platters.

At the head of the table, Jason sat, his gaze drawn not to the lively conversation around him but to you. You sat beside him, poised and graceful, your head tilted slightly as you listened to Lady Leonella describe the day’s events in her melodic voice. Despite the rich spread before you, your movements were deliberate and composed as you ate. Each piece of food was neatly cut and brought to your lips with a precision that Jason couldn’t help but admire.

He marveled at how effortlessly you carried yourself, your lack of sight never betraying you. Every gesture, every word you spoke carried an air of dignity and charm that Jason found himself captivated by, even in the simplicity of a family meal.

“You stare too much, my son,” Lady Leonella teased softly, her voice low enough to keep the remark private. She lifted her goblet of wine, her hair catching the light as she turned her gaze on Jason. Her expression was knowing, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Jason chuckled under his breath, glancing at his mother with a faint grin. “Can you blame me?” he replied quietly. “She makes even the mundane seem extraordinary.”

Leonella sipped her wine, her smile widening. “You’ve always been sentimental, Jason. It suits you.”

Further down the table, Ser Alester leaned back in his chair, a goblet in hand as he spoke with a mischievous grin. “So, have you all heard the latest about Allard Reyne’s wedding feast?” he asked, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of the other Lannisters seated nearby.

“Who hasn’t?” one of the younger cousins chimed in, rolling her eyes. “It seems half the Westerlands are invited.”

“And the other half wishes they weren’t,” another added, earning a round of laughter from those seated nearby.

Lady Leonella arched a delicate brow, her interest piqued. “What spectacle is Allard planning now?” she asked, her tone laced with mild curiosity.

Alester took a long sip of his wine before replying, clearly enjoying the attention. “A week-long celebration,” he said, setting the goblet down. “He’s hired minstrels, acrobats, and even some sort of exotic animal trainer. Rumor has it there will be a lion and a bear fighting in the courtyard.”

Leonella frowned slightly, her expression disapproving. “A lion and a bear? How barbaric.”

Jason’s lips thinned, his gaze shifting briefly to Alester. “Typical Allard,” he muttered. “Always trying to outshine everyone else, even in his own marriage.”

“You’re not wrong,” Alester said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “But I hear the real spectacle is the bride’s dowry. Supposedly, the Leffords are gifting him enough gold to fund a small army.”

“Gold won’t buy him loyalty,” Jason remarked, his tone sharp. “Allard thrives on spectacle because he lacks substance. Let him throw his lavish feast. It won’t change who he is.”

The table quieted briefly at Jason’s pointed words, though a few exchanged amused glances. The subtle tension eased when you spoke, your voice soft yet steady.

“A marriage should be about more than spectacle,” you said, your hands resting lightly in your lap after setting down your goblet. “The vows, the bond between husband and wife—that’s what gives it meaning.”

Jason turned to you, his gaze softening. “And you’ve given ours all the meaning I could ever need.”

Your lips curved into a small, warm smile, and though your eyes couldn’t meet his, the emotion in your expression spoke volumes. “As have you, Jason.”

Leonella cleared her throat gently, breaking the moment with a smile of her own. “Well said, my dear. It’s a shame others don’t share your wisdom.”

Alester laughed lightly, raising his goblet. “Here’s to marriages with meaning, then. And to the ones without—may they entertain us all.”

The table erupted into laughter, the mood lightening once more. Jason remained quiet, his gaze lingering on you as the conversation continued around him. As he watched you smile and respond gracefully to the others, he felt a profound sense of pride and gratitude.

Even amidst the noise and frivolity, you were the calm at the center of it all—the steady, unwavering presence that grounded him. And for that, Jason silently vowed to protect and cherish you, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

The chambers were quiet, lit by the soft glow of a single candelabra on the bedside table. The heavy drapes over the windows muted the sounds of the sea beyond, creating a cocoon of warmth and stillness. You lay nestled in the center of the vast bed, your silken hair spread out over the pillows, the flush of passion still lingering on your skin. Jason sat beside you, his hair disheveled, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The warmth of his presence and the weight of his gaze were unmistakable, even as silence hung between you.

His hand rested lightly on your swollen belly, his palm pressing gently as though trying to feel the life stirring within. His green eyes softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I still can’t believe how close we are now,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. “Halford says it could be any day.”

You turned your face toward him, your own hand covering his. “He did,” you replied softly. “Though I suspect you’re more excited about his… particular advice than the timing itself.”

Jason chuckled, a low, warm sound that rumbled in his chest. “I won’t deny it,” he admitted, his grin turning playful. “When Halford suggested that more intimate activities might help things along, I didn’t think it was my place to argue. Who am I to deny the wisdom of a maester?”

You laughed, the sound light and free, though a faint blush warmed your cheeks. “You were far too eager to agree with him.”

Jason leaned down, his lips brushing over your temple as his fingers traced light circles on your belly. “Of course I was. Do you blame me?” he murmured, his voice soft against your skin. “You’re radiant, Y/N. Even more so now.”

You smiled, though a faint shadow of nervousness crossed your face. “It feels so close now, Jason. I can’t help but think of my mother… of what happened to her.”

His expression grew serious, his hand stilling as he leaned closer. “Don’t,” he said firmly, his voice steady but gentle. “We talk about this. You’re not your mother, and this isn’t the same. You’ve been strong throughout all of this. And I won’t let anything happen to you. You have my word.”

You turned your head slightly, your lips curving into a faint smile as your hand brushed over his. “I trust you,” you said softly. “And I trust Halford. He seems more concerned about the baby’s impatience than anything else.”

Jason’s grin returned, and he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Impatience seems fitting, considering the bloodline. A Lannister-Targaryen child wouldn’t dare be anything less.”

You laughed again, the sound warming the room. “And you’re already boasting about them before they’ve even taken their first breath.”

He smirked, his hand still gently resting on your belly. “Of course I am. This child is the future of our house—lion and dragon, strength and fire. They’re going to change everything.”

You tilted your head, your fingers brushing lightly over his jaw. “As long as they’re healthy, I’ll be happy.”

Jason leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When he pulled back, his gaze was filled with love and determination. “They will be,” he said firmly. “And so will you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason adjusted his position on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow so he could face you fully. His hand remained on your belly, his touch light yet protective, as though guarding both you and the life within. The flickering candlelight softened his features, making his eyes gleam with warmth.

“Have you thought about what you’d like for them?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. “The kind of life we’ll give them here, at the Rock?”

You smiled faintly, placing your hand over his and tracing the lines of his fingers. “I’ve thought of little else,” you admitted. “I want them to feel safe, above all. Loved and protected, no matter what the world outside these walls might say.”

Jason nodded, his expression solemn. “They’ll have that,” he said firmly. “This child will grow up knowing their worth, knowing the strength of their bloodline. Lion and dragon. No one will dare challenge that.”

You tilted your head, your tone turning playful. “Already planning their future battles, are you?”

Jason chuckled, though there was a thoughtful edge to his smile. “Not battles, no,” he said, shaking his head. “But I do want them to understand what it means to carry the weight of two great houses. To take pride in who they are. And to lead, when the time comes.”

Your fingers brushed over his wrist, grounding him. “Jason,” you said gently. “Let them be a child first. Let them discover their own path, before the weight of titles and expectations is placed on their shoulders.”

He studied you for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he said. “I just… I want to give them everything. To make sure they don’t feel the pressures I did, growing up as the heir.”

You smiled, your voice softening. “And you will. You’ll be an incredible father, Jason. I see it already.”

His expression softened, his thumb tracing light circles over your belly. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you see for them?”

You exhaled, your thoughts turning inward. “I see a child who loves this home,” you said slowly. “Who feels the sea breeze and hears the crashing waves, and knows they belong here. I see them with their own dragon, perhaps—riding through the skies, unafraid of anything. And I see them with you, learning from your strength, your wisdom.”

Jason’s smile widened, his gaze filled with pride. “And from you,” he added. “Your patience, your kindness. They’ll be lucky to have you as their mother.”

The words brought a blush to your cheeks, and you looked down briefly. “If they have even half of what we’ve shared,” you said softly, “they’ll have a good life.”

Jason leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “They will,” he promised. “Because we’ll make sure of it.”

The two of you fell silent, the weight of your shared dreams settling comfortably between you. Jason shifted, resting his head lightly against your shoulder as his hand remained on your belly, feeling the faint stirrings of the life you were both so eager to meet.

“And what of their name?” he murmured after a moment, his voice thoughtful. “Have you decided what you’d like to call them?”

You smiled, your hand brushing through his hair. “I’ve thought of a few,” you said. “But I wanted to hear yours first.”

Jason chuckled, lifting his head to look at you. “I’ll have to think carefully,” he said, his tone teasing. “After all, this is a name that will go down in history.”

“Take your time,” you replied, laughter in your voice. “We still have a little while, I think.”

Jason smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. “Not too long, I hope,” he said against your lips. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

As the candlelight flickered around you, the future seemed closer than ever—bright and full of promise, built on the love and strength that connected the two of you.