#* ── DRAGONS LIVE ONLY IN MY DREAMS. / OOC.

[astrxq]

I watched Damsel with Millie Bobby Brown, and I was thinking it would make a great Jace x reader story, if you're taking requests. Something like him being the prince who has to fake a wedding and then offer her as a sacrifice on the mountain to the dragon, but ends up falling in love and decides to rescue her. Or maybe he is the dragon that is cursed, and would only return to human form if he found his soulmate, in this case the sacrifices (the girls were thrown into the dragon's pit) because otherwise he would burn down the city, just like in the film. - 💜

The Dragon's Bride

jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

words: 17k (oops?)

notes/warnings: non-canon events, description of blood/cuts (blood oath), religious guilt (jacaerys), kissing, angst??, slight ooc jacaerys and rhaenyra, mentions of death, animal death, jace's council SUCKS!!!

The weight of duty had never felt heavier on Prince Jacaerys’ shoulders as he stood before the ancient weirwood tree in the godswood of the Red Keep. The face carved into the trunk seemed to watch him with knowing eyes, judging his every thought and action.

Jacaerys ran a hand through his long-curly hair, and took a deep breath. The task before him was one he had dreaded since childhood, a burden passed down through generations of his family. As the heir to the Iron Throne, it fell to him to carry out this grim duty.

“My prince,” a voice called from behind him. Jacaerys turned to see one of the maesters approaching, his chain clinking softly with each step. The old man's face was etched with concern. “The Small Council awaits your presence. It is time to begin the selection process.”

Jacaerys nodded, his eyes clouded with resignation. “I'll be there shortly.”

As the maester retreated, Jacaerys cast one last glance at the heart tree. “Give me strength,” he whispered, though he wasn't sure if he was addressing the old gods, the new, or simply the universe itself.

The walk to the Small Council chamber felt like a march to his own execution. Each step echoed through the stone corridors, a countdown to a fate he couldn't escape. When he reached the ornate doors, he paused, steeling himself for what was to come. With a deep breath, he pushed them open and entered, two soldiers walking behind him.

The room fell silent as Jacaerys took his seat at the table.

Queen Rhaenyra spoke first, her voice steady. “My son, The dragon of Dragonstone grows restless,”

Jacaerys nodded, his throat tight. Still silent.

Ser Alfred leaned forward, his eyes sharp. “The tradition is clear, Your Grace. Prince Jacaerys must choose a lady from among the noble houses of Westeros. He will wed her in a ceremonial marriage, and then...” He trailed off, the unspoken fate hanging heavy in the air.

“And then I must take her to the dragon,” Jacaerys finished. 

Lord Corlys, ever the pragmatist, spread a collection of scrolls on the table. “We have compiled a list of suitable candidates from houses loyal to the crown. Each lady comes from a family of impeccable lineage and has been deemed worthy of this... honor.”

As Jacaerys looked at the names before him, he couldn't help but feel a wave of nausea. Each name came with a charcoal drawing of the girls. These were not just names on parchment; they were living, breathing young women, each with hopes and dreams of their own. And he was to choose one to condemn to a terrible fate.

“May I have some time to consider?” he asked, his eyes meeting his mother's.

Queen Rhaenyra hesitated. She nodded, her expression softening slightly. “Of course.”

As the council members filed out of the room, Jacaerys remained seated, staring at the scrolls before him. The weight of his task pressed down on him, threatening to crush his spirit entirely.

Jacaerys stared at the scrolls spread before him, each one bearing the name and likeness of a young woman whose fate now rested in his hands. The charcoal drawings seemed to come alive under his gaze, eyes filled with hope and innocence that he would soon extinguish. His fingers trembled as he reached for the first scroll.

Jacaerys felt his breath coming faster, his heart pounding in his chest. One by one, Jacaerys examined the scrolls, each lady's face burning itself into his memory. 

As the hours wore on, the faces began to blur together, a parade of innocent lives that he was tasked with judging. Who among them deserved this fate? How could he possibly make such a choice?

Jacaerys stood abruptly, pacing the length of the chamber. He ran his hands through his curly hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. The weight of his duty pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him where he stood.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. “Enter,” he called, his voice hoarse from disuse.

A servant girl entered, carrying a tray with bread, cheese, and wine. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsy. “The Queen thought you might need sustenance.”

Jacaerys nodded absently, gesturing for her to set the tray on a side table. As she turned to leave, he caught sight of her face – young, perhaps a few years younger than himself.

“Wait,” he said, causing the girl to pause at the door, worried. “What is your name?”

She turned, surprise evident on her face. “Myra, Your Grace.”

“Myra,” he repeated, studying her. “Tell me, Myra, if you had to choose someone to... to face a great danger, how would you decide?”

The servant girl's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the question. She fidgeted with her apron, considering her words carefully. “I... I suppose I would choose someone brave, Your Grace.”

Jacaerys nodded slowly. “And if all the choices seemed equally brave?”

Myra bit her lip, then said softly, “Then perhaps... the kindest one, Your Grace.”

With those words, she curtsied again and slipped out of the room, leaving Jacaerys alone with his thoughts once more.

He returned to the table, looking at the scrolls with fresh eyes. Brave and kind – could he discern those qualities from these brief descriptions and charcoal portraits?

As he sifted through the scrolls again, one caught his eye. He had overlooked it before, distracted by the more prominent houses. But now, something about it called to him.

Your name was written at the top in elegant script, followed by a brief description of your house and accomplishments. But it was the portrait that held his attention. The artist had captured a certain light in your eyes, a hint of a smile that spoke of warmth and courage.

Jacaerys found himself reading your description more closely. You were not from one of the great houses, but your lineage was respectable. What stood out were the small details – your love of books, your kindness to those less fortunate, the way you had once stood up to a local threat to protect a younger child.

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine you facing the dragon. In his mind's eye, he saw you standing tall, afraid but unbroken. He saw kindness in your gaze, even in the face of such terror.

Opening his eyes, Jacaerys looked at the other scrolls once more. Each lady was worthy in her own right, each life precious. But something about you called to him, a feeling he couldn't quite explain.

With a heavy heart, knowing the fate he was condemning you to, Jacaerys set your scroll aside. He had made his choice.

As dawn broke over King's Landing, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Jacaerys stood once more before the heart tree in the godswood. He pressed his palm against the rough bark, feeling the ancient power thrumming beneath.

“I've chosen,” he whispered to the carved face. “Gods help me, I've chosen.”

Jacaerys had never been one for prayer, nor had he put much stock in the gods, old or new. As a prince of the realm, his education had focused on matters of state, the intricacies of court politics, and the art of war. Faith had always seemed like an afterthought to him, a crutch for the weak. But as the time for this grim tradition approached, he found himself drawn to the godswood more and more frequently, seeking solace in the ancient silence of the heart tree.

The sound of a throat clearing shook him out of his thoughts, the same maester who had long-ago taught him to translate High Valyrian stood with his arms to his sides. “Emagon ao reached iā decision, ñuha dārilaros?” [Have you reached a decision, my prince?]

Jacaerys’ brows furrowed in deep contemplation. 

“Eman,” [I have,] Jacaerys finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his decision. He glanced once more at the ancient weirwood, as if seeking guidance from the silent face carved into its trunk. “Prepare iā vōljes.” [Prepare a raven.]

The maester nodded solemnly. “To whom shall I send it, Your Grace?”

Without another word, Jacaerys reached for his pocket, pulling out the folded scroll with your name on it. He stared at it for a few seconds before, with an attempt of a steady hand, he handed it over.

The news of Prince Jacaerys' choice spread through the Red Keep like wildfire. Whispers filled the corridors, a mix of curiosity and pity for the unknown girl who had been selected for this “honor.” In the days that followed, preparations began in earnest for your arrival and the ceremonial wedding that would precede the grim journey to Dragonstone.

Jacaerys found himself both dreading and anticipating your arrival. He had made his choice, but the reality of what that meant hadn't fully sunk in yet. As he went about his daily duties, he couldn't shake the image of your portrait from his mind – the light in your eyes, the hint of a smile that had drawn him to you.

Every time he’d walk the halls, silence would follow, awkward stares from the staff and sometimes a hushed whisper that he’d pretend not to hear. 

“Can you imagine? Poor thing, chosen to face the dragon,” he overheard once, making him clench his fists in frustration. “She's just a girl, freshly two tens of age.” another voice murmured sympathetically, but it offered him little comfort.

Despite the weight of duty pressing down on him, Jacaerys couldn't bring himself to discard the drawing. Instead, he kept it close, hidden away in a drawer beside his bed. Every night before he slept, he would retrieve it and stare at your likeness by the dim light of a candle. It wasn't a gesture of admiration or affection, but rather a self-imposed penance, a reminder of the destiny he had sealed for you.

In the quiet moments of the night, when the castle slept and he was alone with his thoughts, Jacaerys would silently plead to the gods. He didn't kneel before the heart tree anymore; he didn't utter formal prayers. Instead, his appeals were whispered in the darkness of his chamber, words of regret and sorrow that mingled with the flickering candlelight.

“Istin sagon punished isse ōdres syt se rest hen ñuha tubissa, syt eman ōdrikagon iā innocent.” [I must be punished in pain for the rest of my days, for i have hurt an innocent]

The court continued its whispered discussions about the impending ceremony, but Jacaerys withdrew further into himself. He attended council meetings and performed his princely duties with a stoic demeanor, hiding the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. There were moments when he almost reconsidered, when he almost resolved to defy tradition and spare you this fate. But each time, the weight of his lineage and the expectations of his people bore down upon him, forcing him back into the role he was destined to play.

The night before you were set to arrive, Jacaerys couldn't sleep. He paced his chambers, his mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. As the first light of dawn began to creep through his windows, he’d realized he hadn’t had a blink of sleep.

He stood at the window of his chambers, watching the sun rise over King's Landing. The city was already stirring, unaware of the personal turmoil of its future king. As he gazed out at the sprawling streets and towering buildings, Jacaerys couldn't help but notice the big blob of citizens, all awaiting at the stair’s entrance of the Keep, 

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Enter,” he called, turning from the window.

A servant stepped into the room, bowing deeply. “Your Grace,” she said softly, “the Lady has arrived.”

Jacaerys nodded, his heart sinking at the news. The moment he had been dreading was finally here. He turned back to the window, taking one last look at the city before steeling himself for what lay ahead.

“Thank you,” he said to the servant, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I will be down shortly.”

As the heavy door closed behind her, echoing through the halls, Jacaerys took a deep breath, his mind racing. Finally, with a last, steadying breath, Jacaerys left his chambers and made his way down to the courtyard. The walk felt like a dream, each step echoing in the silent corridors of the Red Keep. Servants and guards stepped aside as he passed, their eyes filled with a mixture of respect and pity.

As he approached the grand entrance, he could hear the murmurs of the crowd outside. The people of King's Landing had gathered to witness the arrival of the chosen lady, their curiosity palpable in the air. Jacaerys squared his shoulders, bracing himself for the spectacle that awaited, his mother’s hand on his shoulder as a small-support for him. 

As Jacaerys stepped out into the courtyard, the murmur of the crowd hushed to a reverent silence. Nobles and commoners alike pressed forward, eager to catch a glimpse of the prince and his chosen bride.

Jacaerys felt his breath catch in his throat as he laid eyes on you for the first time.

You were even more striking in person than your portrait had suggested. Your eyes, bright and intelligent, scanned the crowd before settling on Jacaerys. 

Prince Jacaerys was beautiful, his long curly hair framing his face, his eyes intense as they met yours. You couldn't help but notice the dark circles under those eyes, the weariness that seemed to hang about him like a cloak.

Jacaerys descended the steps slowly, each movement deliberate and controlled. As he approached, you sank into a deep curtsy, your gaze lowering respectfully. “Your Grace,” you said, your voice steady despite the enormity of the moment. “I am honored by our betrothal.”

For a moment, Jacaerys found himself at a loss for words. He turned to look at his mother with a confused look on his face. You didn’t know? The Queen shook her head at him, so lightly that only he could notice. 

He reached out, gently taking your hand and helping you to your feet.

“My lady,” he said softly, loud enough for you to hear but not for the eager crowd. 

The murmurs of the crowd faded into the background as Jacaerys led you through the courtyard, his mother Queen Rhaenyra by his side and your family next to yours. 

“Your Grace,” Jacaerys whispered, eyeing his mother. “I was not told that my betrothed didn’t know of the… arrangement.”

Queen Rhaenyra's gaze softened as she walked beside Jacaerys and you, the procession moving towards the Great Hall where the formalities would take place. Her voice was low, meant only for her son's ears amidst the murmurs of the courtiers and the lingering hush of the crowd.

“My son, there are matters of tradition that sometimes defy explanation,” she began, her tone tinged with empathy. “It is the way of our world, and you know as well as I do the weight of duty that rests upon us.”

Jacaerys glanced at his mother, a mixture of frustration and sorrow flickering in his eyes. “But she should have been informed,” he murmured quietly, his grip tightening subtly on your hand. You didn’t pay it any mind, as you were occupied speaking to your father, who reminded you – once again – of your duty to bring the Prince a babe to be the heir to his throne.

“I understand not telling the common folk, but, her?” He hushedly spat out, almost glaring at his mother, “She is to be fed to a dragon.”

Queen Rhaenyra sighed softly, her gaze turning ahead as they approached the Great Hall's grand entrance. “She will come to understand her role in time, Jacaerys. As will you,” she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of regret at the sight of her son’s worry.

He stole glances at you, trying to gauge your feelings, silently hoping that somehow, you might find a way to forgive the circumstances that had brought you both here. Once you sat at the Small Council table, ready to speak of the marriage that would take place in merely a few weeks, the room fell silent. You glanced around nervously, acutely aware of the attention shifting towards you and the Prince that sat straight by your side.

“My daughter knows her duty,” Your father started, making one of the maesters clear his throat in discomfort, Jacaerys glared at the old man. “She is healthy, and able to bring a babe to the world.”

You nodded, trying to hide the tremble in your hands. 

Jacaerys turned his head to look at you, your furrowed brows as you listened to his mother explain how the ceremony of your wedding was going to play off. He clenched his fists on the table, trying to hide his overwhelmedness by taking a long sip out of his wine. 

The meeting was a blur for Jacaerys, his mind not allowing him to pay attention to any of the preparations, all he could think about was the innocent look on your face, unknowing of your fate, and the stern look of his own Council, awaiting for the day to come. 

Eventually, after having had enough of listening to your families’ planning, he stood. “Excuse me,” he voiced, offering his hand for you to take as the room fell silent. “Me and my betrothed will leave you to it, we will walk together.”

You glanced around nervously, uncertain of the proper protocol, but your father nodded in approval, prompting you to take Jacaerys' hand. His hand was cold, he rushed the two of you out of the room and out to the gardens, he didn’t speak until you stepped out of the Keep.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “I used to spend a lot of time here as a child. My mother would bring me to the gardens to escape the formality of court. It was my sanctuary.”

You listened intently, intrigued. “It's beautiful,” you replied softly, glancing around at the serene landscape. “I can see why.”

“I apologize for the abruptness back there,” he began, his voice soft but tinged with a hint of urgency. “It's... overwhelming, all of this. I wanted to give us a moment away from all the... planning and discussions.”

You glanced at him, noticing the tension in his jawline, the weight that seemed to press down on his broad shoulders. His gaze was distant, as if wrestling with thoughts beyond the present moment.

“I... I wanted to ask how you are,” he continued, his tone tentative. “This must all be quite... unexpected for you.”

“It is... a lot to take in,” you admitted quietly, choosing your words with care. “But it is an honor to marry the Prince.”

Jacaerys nodded, though his expression remained troubled. He attempted to push down the burning feeling in his stomach, the guilt eating at him. 

Silence fell between you for a moment, the distant sound of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves providing a backdrop to your conversation. Jacaerys seemed to gather his thoughts before speaking again.

“What do you enjoy doing?” he asked suddenly, his curiosity genuine. “Aside from the obvious duties and expectations... What brings you joy?”

The question caught you off guard, but you appreciated the chance to speak of something beyond the weight of your impending marriage. “I love books,” you confessed with a small smile. “I used to sneak away to a small library in our keep,” you confided, a hint of nostalgia in your voice. “It was quiet, away from the noise of daily life. I could lose myself in the pages for hours.”

He almost sighed when he saw a small smile creeping on your face as you spoke of your memories. “That sounds wonderful,” he said softly, his voice tinged with melancholy. “I... I hope you'll find some comfort in the library here, during your stay.”

You nodded, grateful for his consideration. “I look forward to exploring it. Do you have any favorite books or subjects, Your Grace?”

Jacaerys seemed to relax a bit at the change of topic. “Please, when we're alone like this, call me Jacaerys,” he said with a small smile. “And yes, I've always been fascinated by the histories of Old Valyria. The tales of dragons and ancient magic... they're quite captivating.”

“Jacaerys,” you repeated, testing the name on your lips. “I'd love to hear more about that. We don't have many books on Valyria where I'm from.”

He brightened a bit. “Really? Well, there's this one volume about the Doom that's particularly interesting. It theorizes about what might have caused it.”

As you walked, Jacaerys began to explain some of the theories, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. He aimlessly walked you to the library, you followed his steps as he spoke. You couldn’t help but notice the looks the servants gave you, almost pitiful, as you walked past them. 

Some whispered, covering their mouths with their hand so it would stay a secret. Jacaerys didn’t pay it any mind, his hand moving to lock both of your index fingers as he kept spitting out everything he’d learned about the Doom’s theories. 

As you entered the grand library, your eyes widened in awe. Shelves upon shelves of books stretched as far as you could see, their spines glinting in the soft light filtering through high windows.

Jacaerys watched your reaction with a small smile. “Impressive, isn't it? I thought you might appreciate it.”

You nodded, still taking in the sight. “It's magnificent. I could spend years here and never read everything.”

Jacaerys led you deeper into the library, his fingers still lightly entwined with yours. “Let me show you some of my favorite sections,” he said, guiding you through the towering stacks.

As you walked, Jacaerys pointed out various tomes and scrolls, explaining their significance. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing, asking questions and sharing your own thoughts.

“Here,” Jacaerys said, pulling a large, leather-bound volume from a shelf. “This is the book on the Doom of Valyria I mentioned. Would you like to look at it together?”

You nodded eagerly, and Jacaerys led you to a nearby reading nook. As you sat side by side, heads bent over the ancient text, the weight of your circumstances seemed to lift momentarily. For a little while, you were just two people sharing a passion for knowledge and history.

You recognized High Valyrian words you’d learned here and there, but were grateful that Jacaerys patiently explained the meaning of each passage aloud. 

“Se sīr īles foretold ondoso se scribes hen Valyria bona se vējes would māzigon bē īlva, heralded ondoso iā rōvēgrie shaking hen tegon se iā sȳndror bona would swallow se vēzos.” [And so it was foretold by the scribes of Valyria that the Doom would come upon us, heralded by a great shaking of the earth and a darkness that would swallow the sun.] 

His voice resonated softly in the library's hallowed silence, you’d noticed his tense demeanor from hours earlier had eased into a more relaxed and gentle attitude.

As the families concluded their meeting in the Great Hall, the formalities of the betrothal were settled. You were to remain at the Red Keep under the watchful eye of Queen Rhaenyra and her court, preparing for the ceremonial wedding that would precede the journey to Dragonstone. Jacaerys escorted you back to your temporary chambers, a solemn air hanging between you.

Inside the quiet sanctum of your quarters, away from prying eyes, Jacaerys finally allowed his guard to drop. He paced restlessly, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. “I'm sorry,” he blurted out suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want you to miss your home.”

You watched Jacaerys with concern, his sudden outburst catching you off guard. “Your Gr- Jacaerys,” you corrected yourself, remembering his earlier request. “It's alright. I knew when I was chosen that I would have to leave my home behind. It's part of my duty.”

He looked like he wanted to push the conversation, to speak his mind, but he simply shut his mouth and nodded once. “Very well.”

An awkward silence fell between you. There was clearly something unsaid hanging in the air, but neither of you seemed willing or able to address it directly.

Finally, Jacaerys cleared his throat. “I should let you rest. It's been a long day, and I'm sure you'd like some time to settle in.” He moved towards the door, then paused, turning back to you. “If you need anything, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask. I want you to feel at home here.”

That night, Jacaerys found himself staring at the canopy above his bed, unable to find solace in sleep once again. The events of the day weighed heavily on his mind, particularly the encounter with you, the chosen lady whose fate he now bore responsibility for. He tossed and turned, unable to shake the image of your face – bright, hopeful, and utterly unaware of the doom that awaited you.

He sat up abruptly, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “Gods, forgive me,” he whispered into the stillness of the night. He repeated what he did each night, the only sounds in the room being his own whispers. 

As Jacaerys whispered his nightly plea for forgiveness, the weight of his decision pressed down on him more heavily than ever before. Meeting you in person, seeing your bright eyes and hearing your voice, had made the reality of his choice painfully tangible.

It was a cruel twist of fate that someone with such a love for knowledge and life should be destined for… He couldn't even bring himself to think the words.

Unable to find peace, Jacaerys rose from his bed, wrapping a cloak around his shoulders to fend off the chill of the night. He left his chambers quietly, the corridors of the Red Keep almost deserted at this late hour. Only the occasional guard patrolled the hallways, their presence a silent reminder of the ever-watchful eyes of the realm.

He found his feet leading him to the godswood once more, drawn to the ancient heart tree that had witnessed so much over the centuries. The rustling leaves seemed to whisper secrets as he approached, the carved face staring down at him with its perpetual expression of knowing.

“Why have you done this to me?” Jacaerys asked, his voice a broken whisper. “Why have you placed this burden on my shoulders?”

The tree, of course, offered no answer. It stood silent and stoic, a testament to the countless generations who had sought its guidance and solace.

“Old gods,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “I don't know if you can hear me, or if you even care. But I need your guidance. I need to find a way to fulfill my duty without losing my soul in the process.”

The face carved into the tree seemed to watch him with those same knowing eyes, offering no answers, only silent judgment. 

Jacaerys sank to his knees before the heart tree, the weight of his duty pressing down on him with unbearable force. The faces of the young women whose fates he had held in his hands swirled in his mind, but it was your face that haunted him the most. The way you had looked at him with trust and curiosity, unaware of the doom he had chosen for you.

The Prince had fallen asleep at the feet of the heart tree, woken up by his Queen’s scolding gaze and her sharp voice as she shook his arm. “Wake up, Jacaerys!” Queen Rhaenyra's voice cut through the early morning stillness of the godswood. Her hand shook his arm gently but insistently until he stirred, groggy and disoriented.

Jacaerys blinked up at his mother, the reality of where he was and what awaited him crashing back with painful clarity. “Mother – Your Grace.” he murmured, rubbing his eyes as he rose to his feet, feeling the ache in his bones from sleeping on the hard ground.

“You should be resting in your chambers, not sleeping out in the godswood like some lost soul!”

He hummed, throat sore from the cold air of the night, as his Queen dragged him inside holding onto his wrist. Jacaerys followed his mother back to the Red Keep in a fog, the events of the previous night and the weight of his decisions still heavy on his mind. Queen Rhaenyra's scolding was just a distant echo to him as they walked through the quiet corridors, servants bowing respectfully as they passed.

They walked by the Grand Hall, he managed to makeout your sitting figure, all alone, with a full plate in front of you as one of the servants poured juice into the cups. At the loud, angry steps that scurried in the hall, you lifted your eyes to meet his for a split moment before he was dragged away to his own chambers to compose himself. 

“Your betrothed is sat at the table, waiting, and you’re out asleep in the gardens.”

Jacaerys felt a pang of embarrassment as he remembered the fleeting glance he had exchanged with you through the grand hall. It was bad enough to be caught by his mother and scolded like a child, but to have you witness such a moment of vulnerability added another layer of discomfort.

Once safely within his chambers, the embarrassment deepened. He leaned heavily against the door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steady himself. He readied himself, not bothering to call the servants, and approached the Great Hall. 

It was silent, all he could hear as he walked in was the sounds of his youngest siblings playing with their food. Approaching you, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. You looked up as he approached, your expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Jacaerys cleared his throat, unsure of how to begin.

“My lady,” he began softly, “I apologize for my absence.”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for understanding. “It's quite alright,” you replied with a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

He noticed a thick book sitting next to your feast, the old worn-out cover with the carved in title he recognized from the section he’d shown you the day before. “The Doom of Valyria,” Jacaerys noted with a slight surprise, gesturing towards the book. “You found it interesting?”

You nodded, a genuine spark of enthusiasm brightening your expression. “I figured we could look at it together. I thought it might help me understand more about... well, everything,” you admitted softly, your gaze flickering briefly to the book before returning to meet his eyes.

Jacaerys nodded, feeling his mother’s eyes move to him in a warning. Don’t get attached.

He didn’t initiate another topic of conversation, casting the room in silence while you had your breakfast. The Queen stood, taking her youngest son into her arms while two other servants followed behind with the other kids, leaving you alone in the Hall.

“We can look at it now, if you wish.” he spoke, hand reaching for the book once he’d finished drinking his cup. You nodded eagerly, grateful for the opportunity to delve into something other than the weighty expectations of your impending marriage. You both moved to a quieter corner of the Great Hall, away from the prying eyes of the courtiers who lingered nearby.

Jacaerys settled onto the floor, patting the space beside him. “Come on, it's more comfortable down here,” he said with a grin.

You laughed softly, gathering your skirts as you joined him. “If anyone walks in, they'll think we've lost our minds.”

“Let them,” Jacaerys chuckled, opening the book across both your laps. “Now, where shall we start?”

Your eyes skimmed the pages, landing on an illustration of a great city. “What's this?”

“Ah, Old Valyria at its height,” Jacaerys explained, his finger tracing the intricate drawing. “See those spires? They say they were forged by dragonfire.”

“It's beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in closer. Your shoulder brushed against his, and you felt a small thrill at the contact.

Jacaerys turned his head, his face now inches from yours. He hummed before he cleared his throat, a smile playing at his lips. “Did you know they had a saying? 'Valar morghulis.'“

“What does that mean?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“All men must die,” Jacaerys translated, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Cheerful bunch, weren't they?”

He chuckled, fingers playing with the edge of the page before turning it. The text was dense with Valyrian history and conjecture, but Jacaerys patiently translated and explained each passage to you. 

After a while, as if unable to contain his turmoil any longer, Jacaerys cleared his throat softly, breaking the companionable silence. “My lady,” he began, his voice tinged with regret, “I must apologize once more for my absence this morrow. It was... inconsiderate of me to leave you waiting.”

You looked up from the book, meeting his gaze with a mixture of surprise and understanding. “Jacaerys, it's alright,” you assured him gently, “And, please, you must call me by my name as well.”

He nodded once, turning his head to the book again, then back at you, “I wasn’t… out, I fell asleep in the gardens.”

You felt a small wave of relief wash over you and tilted your head slightly, studying his expression. “It must have been a rough night,” you said softly, empathizing with the weight he carried. “I understand.”

“I didn't mean for you to witness me like that. It was... unbecoming.”

“It is only human to seek solace,” you replied gently, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Even princes need moments of peace.”

He nodded, a faint smile touching his own lips in return. You hummed in thought at Jacaerys’ silence, a beat passed, “If I am to marry the prince, I shall better my High Valyrian.”

His face tensed, holding back a frown at the thought of you not having enough time to learn the language before… the day. “I can assist you with that, if you'd like,” he finally said.

You felt a surge of relief at his offer. You turned your head to the book, focusing on Jacaerys’ explanation once again. Before he could continue, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. A servant appeared, bowing low.

“Your Grace, my Lady,” he said, lying through his teeth, “The Small Council requests Prince Jacaerys' presence immediately.”

Jacaerys sighed, the weight of his responsibilities settling back onto his shoulders. He stood, offering you a hand to help you up as well. He gave you a small smile before closing the book and handing it off to you. 

“I am sure there is a High Valyrian dictionary somewhere, feel free to roam the library.” he said finally before turning to follow the servant to his awaiting family.

You watched Jacaerys leave, the book heavy in your hands. His sudden departure left you feeling oddly bereft, the warmth of your shared moment fading as quickly as it had come. 

With a soft sigh, you made your way back to the library. The vast room felt different now without Jacaerys' presence – larger, more intimidating. You wandered through the towering shelves, searching for the dictionary he had mentioned.

Finally locating the book, you settled into a comfortable chair near a window. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the pages as you began to study. 

Hours passed, the light shifting as the sun traversed the sky. You had made some progress with your studies, but questions continued to gnaw at you. You tapped your foot repeatedly on the ground as you stared at the closed doors of the Small Council in the distance, having seen Jacaerys walk out hours before but having been too slow to catch up to him before he left for his chambers again.

As evening approached, a servant appeared to escort you to dinner. You followed, your mind still churning with unanswered questions. The dining hall was quiet, with only a few courtiers present. Jacaerys was noticeably absent.

“Where is Prince Jacaerys?” you asked the servant as she poured your wine.

“Still in council, my lady,” she replied, her eyes darting away quickly. “They've been at it all day.”

You nodded, picking at your food without much appetite. The absence of Jacaerys only heightened your sense of unease. Something was happening, something beyond the typical preparations for a royal wedding.

You retired to your chambers, the High Valyrian dictionary tucked under your arm. As you prepared for bed, you muttered to yourself the few words you’d memorized.

“Dārilaros Jacaerys,” [Prince Jacaerys] “Iksi naejot sagon dīnagon.” [We are to be wed.] you repeated softly to yourself, the unfamiliar words echoing in the quiet of your chambers. The weight of those words, of your impending marriage to Prince Jacaerys, hung heavily in the air.

You’d figured Jacaerys had begun to ignore you, a week went by and the servant’s lie about the Small Council no longer held up. A week had passed, each day stretching out with an almost unbearable tension. 

Every day, you found yourself in the grand library, delving deeper into the pages of history and language, trying to distract yourself from the growing unease. You studied diligently, but your mind often wandered back to Jacaerys, how every time you walked past him in the halls he’d turn his head, how he’d scurry away after having spent the meals in silence with his family and you sitting next to him. 

The whispers and pitying glances from servants and courtiers alike only added to your discomfort.

One evening, as you sat in the library poring over your High Valyrian studies, you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Looking up, you saw Jacaerys standing at the edge of the shelves, his expression a mixture of guilt and hesitation.

He called your name softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I... I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to join you. “Not at all, Your Grace. I've been hoping to speak with you.”

Jacaerys moved closer, taking a seat across from you. His eyes fell on the open books spread before you, and a small smile tugged at his lips. “You've been studying diligently, I see.”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze. 

Jacaerys once again fell into silence. His small smile faded, replaced by a look of deep concern and inner turmoil. The warmth that had briefly appeared in his eyes dimmed, shadows of worry creeping back into his expression. You watched as he seemed to retreat into himself, his posture stiffening, his gaze growing distant.

Despite your hopes for a longer conversation, for a moment of genuine connection, Jacaerys soon excused himself. His words were polite but hurried, his tone apologetic yet firm. As he left, you felt the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between you. Once more, you found yourself alone with your books, the silence of the library seeming to mock your growing frustration.

The pattern continued throughout the weeks, becoming a painful dance of near misses and avoided glances. During meals, Jacaerys would keep his eyes fixed on his plate, responding to questions with short, noncommittal answers. His shoulders would tense whenever you entered a room, and he would find reasons to leave shortly after.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, your paths would cross, but any hope of conversation was quickly dashed. Jacaerys would offer a hurried nod, his pace quickening as he passed by. You began to feel like a ghost in your own home, unseen and unheard by the very man you were to marry.

As evening approached and the anticipation of the upcoming wedding ceremony weighed heavily on your mind, the silence became unbearable. The thought of entering into a union shrouded in such secrecy and distance filled you with dread. Questions swirled in your mind, each unanswered inquiry adding to your growing resolve.

You decided you couldn't bear the silence any longer. The need for answers, for some semblance of understanding, outweighed your fear of confrontation. With determination setting in your jaw and courage steeling your spine, you made the decision to seek out Jacaerys and demand the truth, whatever it might be.

Just before bedtime, you spotted Jacaerys walking down the hallway towards his chambers. Gathering your courage, you called out to him.

“Issi ao dobōtēdrā nyke?” [Are you ignoring me?] Your pronunciation was still rough, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

Jacaerys froze at the sound of your voice, his hand resting on the handle of his chamber door. He turned slowly, his eyes wide with surprise at your use of High Valyrian. For a moment, he seemed to struggle with how to respond.

“No,” he said softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet hallway. 

You stepped closer, your frustration evident in your posture and the set of your jaw. “What is it, then?” Your words were stilted, nerves eating at you. “The wedding is tomorrow, Jacaerys. I've been left in the dark, treated like a ghost in these halls. The servants whisper about me, everyone looks at me like they pity me. And my own betrothed ignores me.”

Your outburst seemed to startle him. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of his distress. “You're right,” he said finally, his shoulders sagging. “I apologize.” Jacaerys hesitated, clearly wrestling with his thoughts. “I... I'm sorry for my behavior. It's not fair to you.”

You stepped closer, your frustration bubbling over. “No, it's not. We're to be married tomorrow, and I barely know you. Everyone in this castle looks at me with pity, and you can't even bear to speak to me. What am I supposed to think?”

Jacaerys winced at your words. “It's complicated,” he said softly, avoiding your gaze.

“Then explain it to me,” you pressed, your voice rising slightly. “I've left my home, my family, everything I've ever known. The least you could do is tell me why you've been avoiding me like I'm afflicted with greyscale.”

“I cannot do that,” 

You huffed, he ran a hand through his hair again, clearly agitated. “I can't... I can't tell you everything. Please, try to understand.”

“Understand what?” you pressed, your patience wearing thin. “That my future husband would rather pretend I don't exist? That everyone in this castle looks at me with pity, and I don't know why?”

Jacaerys opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, shaking his head. “I'm sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I truly am. But I can't... I can't do this right now.”

With that, he turned and retreated into his chambers, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, your frustration and confusion only growing.

You stared at his closed door for a long moment, anger and hurt warring within you. Finally, with a huff of exasperation, you turned and stormed off to your own chambers. 

In your chambers, you paced restlessly, the events of the evening replaying in your mind. Jacaerys' evasiveness had left you feeling isolated and uncertain, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on you. You glanced at the High Valyrian dictionary on your bedside table, its pages now familiar but offering no solace.

You’d fallen asleep quickly, the sound of hurried footsteps woke you and only then did you realize it was already dawn. A flurry of activity surrounded you. Servants bustled about, preparing you for the ceremony. You donned the gown chosen for you, feeling more like a doll being dressed than a bride preparing for her wedding day. 

Jacaerys refused to meet your eyes once you stood in front of each other, the privacy of the ceremony surprised you, only his family present and a few of the maesters. Words felt like a blur, you looked down at your hands that were wrapped in his, the priestess’ speech didn’t make you pay any more attention than you already were, too focused on hoping for this to end soon. 

“May the gods bear witness to this union. As you now pledge your troth to one another, let it be known that your fates are bound by blood and by honor.”

You only snapped out of your haze when you felt Jacaerys’ warm hands leave yours, and reappear in your line of sight with a silver knife. He held one of your hands, placing it on his before drawing blood, thinning the action careful to not hurt you. Then he moved the blade to your lips, a small, simple cut to them before he handed you the tool. 

You did the same, mirroring his every move, he shut his eyes when your cold blade reached his mouth, barely reacting to the cut. Then, a kiss, like the priestess called. Jacaerys cupped your cheek, his bloodied hand holding onto yours, and the taste of blood quickly filled your mouth. It was a slow kiss, just one, and he pulled away with a sigh. 

His thumb ran over your cheek once more before he took a step back, offering you a handkerchief to stop the bleeding. You dabbed delicately at your lips with the handkerchief, your mind reeling from the sudden intimacy of the kiss. Jacaerys' touch lingered on your cheek, leaving a tingling sensation.

The ceremony concluded with ceremonial words and blessings, but as you stood beside Jacaerys, you couldn't shake the feeling of disconnection between you. His demeanor remained distant, his eyes often flickering away whenever you sought to meet them.

After the formalities, you found yourself in a small antechamber adjacent to the grand hall where the ceremony had taken place. Jacaerys was silent as attendants bustled around, preparing to escort you away from the ceremony.

“Jacaerys,” you began tentatively, searching for some semblance of understanding or connection, “Can we talk?”

His shoulders slumped, eyes carrying a tire and sadness heavier than the one you’d been seeing for the past weeks. He didn’t hear you, at least that’s what you told yourself as he stood and walked away from you once again, leaving you sat with the stained handkerchief in your hands. 

You huffed, anger running through you as you hurried after him. You find him at the heart tree, its ancient branches looming over him like silent sentinels. Jacaerys stood before it, his hands clenched at his sides, his gaze fixed on the carved face of the tree. His expression was haunted, burdened with the weight of secrets and responsibilities. He mumbled in High Valyrian words that you had still not learned on your own.

“Jacaerys,” you called out softly, approaching him cautiously. He turned to you, his eyes weary. “I didn't mean to startle you,” you continued, your voice gentle yet tinged with the frustration that had been building within you for weeks.

He sighed heavily, “I thought you might come,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely carrying over the rustling leaves of the godswood.

“Why won't you talk to me?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “We're married now, Jacaerys. Avoiding your wife is far harder than avoiding your betrothed.”

Jacaerys turned to face you fully, the weight of his responsibilities etched deeply into his expression. His gaze softened as he took in your presence, the frustration in your voice not lost on him. “I didn't mean to shut you out,” he began, his voice tinged with regret. “I am sorry.”

You stepped closer, standing beside him beneath the ancient heart tree, its presence casting a tranquil yet solemn atmosphere around you. He didn’t speak, both of you staying silent while he shut his eyes, the weariness still evident on his face. 

“Do you come here often?” you broke the silence once it got too quiet, too tense. 

He nodded, “I do,” 

“I didn’t know you were faithful to the gods.” you stated, hand moving to touch the tree, his eyes followed your movements carefully. 

He hesitated, his gaze drifting from your hand on the tree back to your eyes. “I seek guidance here,” he admitted quietly, his voice carrying the weight of vulnerability. “It doesn’t always come to me, but-” he stopped talking, shrugging before he let his hand fall from the tree, yours following suit.

“Mother said it would be easier to avoid you,” he mumbled, his voice seemingly weakening. You found yourself reaching out to him, your hand brushed against his, fingers intertwining gently as you stood beneath the heart tree together. 

“What would?”

“The marriage, everything, I don’t know.”

Jacaerys didn’t pull away from your touch, though his expression remained guarded. His hand felt warm in yours, the tension in his shoulders gradually easing. The quiet of the godswood enveloped you both.

 “But we’re married now, Jacaerys.” you murmured softly, squeezing his hand gently. 

Jacaerys' expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Can we start anew?”

“I would like that,” you said, returning his smile. A comfortable silence fell between you, the tension of the past weeks beginning to ease. 

“Perhaps,” Jacaerys suggested hesitantly, “we could continue our High Valyrian lessons together? I've missed our time in the library.”

Your face brightened at the suggestion. “I'd like that very much. I have so many questions about the Doom of Valyria that I've been saving up for you.”

Jacaerys chuckled, a warm sound that you realized you'd missed hearing. “Well then, we'd better get started.” 

With a tight hold on your hand, he pulled you gently towards the castle. As you walked back together, a sense of cautious optimism filled the air between you. The silence was no longer tense, but contemplative, as if you were both considering the new beginning that lay ahead.

Entering the grand library, Jacaerys guided you to the familiar corner where you had spent so many hours studying together. He selected a few books from the shelves, their leather bindings worn with age and use. As he set them down on the table, dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the high windows.

Jacaerys looked up at you, his expression softening as he met your gaze. “I chose a few books that might interest you,” he said, his voice gentle. “But perhaps we could talk about these past weeks. I’ve missed you, you know?”

Jacaerys' words hung in the air, the unexpected admission causing a flutter in your chest. You settled into the familiar chair beside him, the scent of old parchment and the quiet rustle of pages creating a comforting cocoon around you both. Despite the turmoil of the past weeks, this small corner of the library had become a refuge, a place where the outside world and its burdens seemed to fade away.

You looked at Jacaerys, his expression open and earnest, the guarded demeanor he had worn like armor slipping away. “I've missed you too,” you replied softly, the truth of your words resonating in the silence that followed.

He gave a small, grateful nod, his fingers absently tracing the edge of one of the books. “Have you been studying on your own?” he began, his voice tinged with regret. 

You shrugged, “Hm, There was no one to teach me,”

“There are plenty of maesters, they taught me and my brothers-”

“Nobody in this castle really speaks to me, other than you, now.”

Jacaerys' eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and sorrow at your words. He opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again, seemingly at a loss. The silence between you grew heavy, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. “It’s alright,” you interrupted his thoughts, “Have you any favorite spots in the Keep?”

Jacaerys smiled at your attempt to lighten the mood, clearly grateful for your effort. “I do, actually,” he said, a hint of enthusiasm returning to his voice. “There's a balcony overlooking Blackwater Bay. It's quiet and the view is breathtaking, especially at sunset.”

You nodded, intrigued. “I'd love to see it. Perhaps we can go there sometime?”

Jacaerys' smile widened, his eyes brightening. “I'd like that very much. How about after our lesson today?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed, a grin plastered on your face.

Jacaerys began explaining the text, his voice steady and patient. As he spoke, you found yourself not just listening to the words, but also watching him – the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, the way his fingers moved delicately over the pages. You pretended not to pay any mind to the arm he’d draped over your chair half way through the page you were on at the moment, his fingertips moving up and down your arm and playing with your hair every now and then.

Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew it, the afternoon sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the library. Jacaerys glanced out the window, then back at you. “Shall we go, then?” he asked.

You nodded, feeling a flutter of excitement. Jacaerys led you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep, his hand in yours, the path becoming more familiar with each step. Finally, you arrived at the balcony he had described.

“It's beautiful,” you murmured, gazing out at the water sparkling under the setting sun.

Jacaerys nodded, his eyes on you. His hand moved to your backside, gently resting there, he drew you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. You leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch.

“We could go on a walk after supper,” Jacaerys whispered, his voice barely audible above the soft sounds of the waves. 

For the first time since arriving at the Red Keep, you felt a glimmer of what could be between you and Jacaerys. 

With a soft sigh of contentment, you turned to Jacaerys and met his gaze, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “A walk sounds nice.” you said, your voice filled with newfound determination and a hint of excitement.

The weeks that followed were a gradual thawing of the ice that had formed between you, a slow but steady warming that began to transform your arranged marriage into something more.

True to his word, Jacaerys resumed your High Valyrian lessons in the library. What started as stilted, formal sessions soon evolved into hours of animated discussion and shared laughter between the two of you, melting away the image of duty-headed Prince Jacaerys. You found yourself looking forward to these moments, eagerly anticipating the smallest hint of time you would spend together.

“Skoros iksis aōha glaesagon uttoma raqiros?” [What is your favorite animal?] 

You pondered for a moment, searching for the right words. “Ñuha glaesagon uttoma raqiros iksis... zaldrīzes? Hen se tembyr.” [My favorite animal is... dragon? From the books.]

Jacaerys' smile faltered for a brief moment, so quickly you almost missed it. But then he was grinning again, praising you. “That was really good.” 

Moving on, he flipped the page, continuing the lesson as you practiced more High Valyrian together. His patience and encouragement helped you gain confidence in both the language and your interactions with him.

Outside the library, your walks with Jacaerys became a routine. He showed you hidden corners of the Red Keep, sharing stories of its history and his own childhood adventures. You, in turn, shared tales of your own homeland, finding common ground in unexpected places.

As the days passed, you began to see a different side of Jacaerys. The brooding, distant prince was replaced by a man with a quick wit and a passion for knowledge that matched your own. You discovered his love for astronomy, often finding him on the castle's highest tower, charting the movements of stars and planets.

One clear night, he invited you to join him. As you climbed the winding stairs, your heart raced with a mixture of exertion and anticipation. When you reached the top, Jacaerys was waiting, a bronze tube in his hands gleaming in the moonlight.

“I thought you might enjoy this,” he said softly, gesturing for you to look through the eyepiece. 

“What is it?” you asked as he handed it to you, you inspected it, mirrored his moves and looked through it.

“To look at the stars,” he came behind you, hands covering yours. Jacaerys stood close behind you, his breath warm on your neck as he pointed out constellations and explained their mythologies that he’d read about in books. You found yourself acutely aware of his presence, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the summer night.

These moments of closeness became more frequent as the weeks went by. You would catch Jacaerys watching you with a soft expression when he thought you weren't looking. His hand would linger on yours a moment longer than necessary when passing you a book. The air between you began to crackle with an unspoken tension, a growing attraction neither of you dared to acknowledge openly, even as husband and wife.

Jacaerys kept visiting the heart tree, his begs for a punishment getting bigger and bigger as he got to know you, the weight of the fate he’d put you up to too strong for him to bear.

After a particularly tense council session, you found Jacaerys in the godswood, his head bowed before the heart tree. You approached quietly, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

“You can join me, you know?” he said without turning, a small smile in his voice. “I always know when you're near.”

You moved to stand beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. Jacaerys was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the carved face of the weirwood. “They ignore me, I think,” he mumbled. “The gods.”

You listened quietly, feeling the weight of his words. The godswood was serene around you, the rustling leaves and the faint whisper of wind creating a backdrop to Jacaerys' contemplation. You didn't interrupt, letting him speak at his own pace.

“I've prayed for guidance, for clarity,” Jacaerys continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I've received nothing. No sign, no answers.”

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at something inside you. You glanced at the heart tree, its solemn face seemingly watching over both of you. “Maybe the gods speak in ways we don't always recognize,” you offered gently. “Or perhaps they're waiting for you to find your own path.”

Jacaerys sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I'm not sure I know what that path is anymore.”

He trailed off, frustration evident in the set of his jaw. You reached out, cupping his face gently in your hands. “Jacaerys,” you murmured.

For a moment, it seemed as though he might tell you everything. His eyes searched for yours, filled with a longing that made your heart ache. But then, as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want you to suffer,” he whispered, his breath warm on your skin. You sighed, running your palm over his chest and holding his hand. “Have you been sleeping?”

He nodded, “Yes, a little,” Jacaerys admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around yours, seeking comfort in your touch. “I find it hard to rest sometimes.”

You nodded sympathetically, your thumb gently tracing circles on the back of his hand. The godswood was peaceful around you, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant song of a bird filling the air. 

“Come on.” you mumbled, tightening your hold on his hand to walk him to his chambers, hoping that sleep would make his worry go away.

The atmosphere in the council chamber had been tense for days. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that only comes when a significant decision hangs in the balance.

Jacaerys sat at the head of the table, his expression solemn. Beside him, Queen Rhaenyra watched with a mixture of maternal concern and royal composure. 

“Prince Jacaerys,” one of the maesters began, his voice steady but with a note of urgency. “The time has come to finalize our preparations. The court and the realm await your decision regarding the next steps. Dragonstone must be prepared to receive its... visitor.”

Jacaerys clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of their eyes on him. He had known this moment was inevitable, but that did nothing to ease the dread that coiled in his stomach. He looked to his mother, seeking any sign of support or reprieve, but her face remained unreadable. She had taught him well about the burdens of leadership, but this was a trial he had to face alone.

“My lords,” he said finally, his voice betraying none of the turmoil within him. “I understand the importance of tradition and the necessity of the ritual. However, the lady is... not ready.” 

Ser Alfred, ever the traditionalist, did not miss a beat. “Your Grace, the ritual must be completed as dictated by our customs. The dragons are restless, and we cannot afford any delay. Dragonstone awaits her arrival.”

Jacaerys's hands tightened around the armrests of his chair. He had expected resistance, but the reality of it was far more daunting than he had imagined. The council's resolve was unyielding, their eyes reflecting the hard truth that duty often demands sacrifices.

“Can’t the dragon be fed… sheep, or pigs?”

“The tradition is sacred, Prince Jacaerys. It is through these rituals that we maintain our bond with the dragon and ensure it’s calm. To suggest an alternative is to risk breaking a chain that has bound our house for centuries.”

Jacaerys felt the pressure mounting, the room closing in around him. He looked to his mother once more, her face a mask of calm. But there was a flicker in her eyes, a silent communication that only he could interpret – a plea to tread carefully.

Queen Rhaenyra finally spoke, her voice smooth and commanding. “The Prince raises a valid point. However, the choice has already been made, the preparations have already begun in Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys’s heart sank at his mother’s words. The finality of the preparations being underway in Dragonstone echoed the inevitability he had been trying to avoid. The room seemed to close in on him, the expectations of his ancestors and the weight of the realm pressing down on his shoulders. He pressed his lips tightly together, grinding his teeth in frustration. 

The council resumed their discussions, the tension palpable in the air. Jacaerys listened as the members debated the logistics of the journey to Dragonstone, the protocols to be followed, and the necessary preparations for the lady. Every word felt like a dagger twisting in his gut, each mention of the ritual reinforcing the grim reality he wished to avoid. 

He was being ignored by his own Council, his mother and queen quietly sipping her wine as she stole glances at him. 

The same maester from before concluded, “We will proceed as planned. The bride will be escorted to Dragonstone, and the ritual will be conducted according to tradition. We cannot afford to falter.”

The meeting adjourned, and the council members rose from their seats, their conversations continuing in hushed tones as they filed out of the chamber. Jacaerys remained seated for a moment, his mind racing with the weight of their decision.

He rose from his seat and made his way to the godswood, seeking solace in the ancient silence of the heart tree once again.

The walk to the godswood was a blur, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. When he finally reached the heart tree, he pressed his palm against the rough bark, feeling the ancient power thrumming beneath his touch. The carved face seemed to gaze back at him, its expression inscrutable.

“Why do you remain silent?” Jacaerys whispered, his voice barely more than a breath carried away by the wind. “Do you not see the weight upon me? The burden of tradition threatens to consume everything I hold dear.”

The heart tree offered no answers, its carved face unmoving, its eyes seeming to gaze through him rather than at him. Jacaerys felt a pang of bitterness and betrayal at the feeling of being helpless, of being ignored by his gods and by his people.

He turned away from the heart tree, pacing restlessly amidst the tranquil setting of the godswood. The gentle rustling of leaves and the soft murmur of the wind offered no comfort. His thoughts raced, his mind replaying the council meeting and the inevitable march towards tradition that seemed to crush any hope of a different outcome.

In that moment of turmoil, his thoughts turned to you – the one person who could ease the burden of his troubled heart. He longed to see you, to escape the suffocating confines of duty and council chambers, to find solace in your presence. You were a beacon of warmth and understanding amidst the cold realities of court politics and ancient rituals.

Without hesitation, Jacaerys made his way back to the Red Keep, his steps quickening with purpose. He sought you out, driven by a need to be with someone who understood him, someone who could offer comfort without words.

Boredom had driven you to the library once again, the Red Keep not having many other activities to keep you occupied while your husband was in the Small Council. The chatter of the Small Council meeting echoed in your mind, their discussions on matters of state and tradition dulling your senses. You recalled Jacaerys' words earlier in your betrothal, his gentle encouragement to explore the library freely, to find respite from the formalities that governed court life.

As you browsed the shelves, your fingers trailing along the spines of ancient tomes, a small, leather-bound volume caught your eye. It was tucked away in a corner, almost hidden behind larger books. Curious, you pulled it out, noting the lack of a title on its worn cover.

Settling into your favorite reading nook by the window, you opened the book carefully. The pages were filled with elegant High Valyrian script, the ink faded but still legible. Your heart quickened with excitement at the challenge of translating this mysterious text.

As you began to read, deciphering the archaic language with the skills you had honed over the past months, the content of the book slowly revealed itself. It appeared to be a chronicle of Targaryen traditions, dating back to the family's origins in Old Valyria.

Your translation was slow at first, but as you progressed, certain phrases began to leap out at you. “Se zaldrīzes demands iā jorrāelagon...” [The dragon demands a sacrifice...] 

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you continued, your heart beginning to race as the true nature of the text became clear. “Hen tubis naejot tubis, se dārilaros iksis naejot ōdrikagon iā riña naejot se zaldrīzes...” [From time to time, the heir is to choose a lady for the dragon...]

With trembling hands, you turned the pages, your mind reeling as you pieced together the full horror of what you were reading. The tradition, passed down through generations of Targaryen rulers, of sacrificing a young woman to appease their dragons. The ceremonial marriage, followed by a journey to Dragonstone, where the bride would meet her fate.

As the full implications of what you had discovered washed over you, a cold dread settled in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly, Jacaerys' behavior, the pitying looks from the servants, the whispers that followed you through the halls – it all made terrible sense.

You were not just a bride. You were a sacrifice.

The book slipped from your numb fingers, falling to the floor with a dull thud that echoed in the empty library. Your mind raced, trying to reconcile the Jacaerys you had come to know – kind, intelligent, affectionate – with the man who had chosen you for this grim fate.

As the shock began to give way to a mixture of fear and anger, you heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, you saw Jacaerys entering the library, his face lighting up when he saw you. His expression softened as he took in your familiar presence – a book in your hand, and a furrowed look on your face. But as he drew closer, his expression changed, noticing the pallor of your face.

“What's wrong?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “Are you feeling ill?” He knelt beside you, reaching out tentatively, as if unsure whether to touch you.

You recoiled slightly at his approach, a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside you. Tears continued to flow unabated down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice, to articulate the turmoil that gripped your soul.

He reached for your hand again, this time more insistently, but you pulled away, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. “You... you chose me,” you whispered, your voice laced with accusation. “To be sacrificed.”

He recoiled as if struck, his own eyes filling with tears of remorse and helplessness. 

You stood there, your body trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. The sight of Jacaerys, once a source of comfort, now filled you with an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Your eyes, brimming with tears, darted around the room, unable to settle on his face for more than a moment. The urge to flee, to put as much distance between yourself and this man who had deceived you, was almost overpowering.

“How... how could you?” you finally managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt thick in your throat, as if your body was physically resisting the act of speaking to him. Your hands shook as you clutched the book to your chest, a tangible reminder of the horrifying truth you had uncovered.

Anger bubbled up inside you, mixing with the fear and hurt. It manifested in the way your jaw clenched, in the tightness of your shoulders. You wanted to scream, to rage at him for his deception, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, hot tears spilled down your cheeks, a physical manifestation of your inner turmoil.

You took a step back as Jacaerys moved towards you, your body instinctively recoiling from his presence. The man before you now seemed like a stranger, far removed from the gentle, caring husband you thought you had come to know. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as panic began to set in.

“Stay away from me,” you managed to say, your voice cracking with emotion. The betrayal cut deep, a wound that felt almost physical in its intensity. Your mind raced, replaying every moment, every kind word and gentle touch, now tainted by the knowledge of your true purpose.

Your eyes, wide with fear and glistening with tears, finally met his. In that moment, the full weight of your situation crashed down upon you. You were trapped, bound by tradition and duty to a fate you never asked for, chosen by a man you had begun to trust and even love. The realization left you feeling hollow, your anger giving way to a deep, aching despair.

Jacaerys' face contorted with anguish. He took a hesitant step towards you, his hand outstretched, but you flinched away violently.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Let me explain. I never meant to-”

“To what?” you spat out, finding your voice again. The words came out in a rush, fueled by fear and rage. “To lie to me? To condemn me to death? What exactly didn't you mean to do, Jacaerys?”

“I thought I knew you,” you continued, your voice breaking. “I thought... I thought what we had was real.”

Jacaerys' face crumpled at your words. “It is real,” he insisted, taking another step closer. You backed away, your back hitting the bookshelf behind you. “Everything between us, every moment – it's all been real. I swear it.”

You shook your head violently, unable to reconcile his words with the horrifying truth you'd discovered. “How can you say that?” you demanded, your voice rising hysterically. “How can any of it be real when you've been planning my death this whole time?”

Jacaerys’s expression twisted in agony as he absorbed the impact of your words. He stood rooted to the spot, a few steps away from you, his hand still outstretched as if hoping that a simple gesture could bridge the widening chasm between you.

“I never wanted this,” Jacaerys began, his voice barely above a whisper, choked with emotion.

You shook your head vehemently, tears streaming down your face. “You chose me.” you spat out, your voice cracking. 

“No, that's not what I-”

“Then what?” you demanded, your voice rising. “What exactly was your plan? To make me fall for you and then feed me to a dragon?”

Jacaerys's face contorted with pain. “I've been trying to find another way. I've been fighting the council, trying to change things-”

“And failing!” you interjected, your fear and anger boiling over. “All while lying to me every single day!”

“I wasn't lying to you!” Jacaerys protested, his voice rising to match yours. “I was trying to protect you!”

“How can I believe anything you say now?” you cried out, your body shaking with sobs.

Just as Jacaerys opened his mouth to respond, a sharp knock at the library door interrupted your heated exchange. You both froze, turning to see a servant entering hesitantly.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” the servant said, bowing low. “The Small Council requests your immediate presence. They wish to begin preparations for... the journey.”

The servant's eyes flickered between you and Jacaerys, clearly sensing the tension in the room.

You sobbed at the mention of the event, even servants keeping secrecy of your fate.

Jacaerys clenched his jaw, he turned back to you, his eyes pleading. “Please, we need to talk about this. Let me explain-”

But you were already backing away, seizing the opportunity of the interruption to escape. “I wish to be left alone,” you said, your voice trembling. Without another word, you brushed past the confused servant and fled from the library.

Jacaerys stood frozen for a moment, watching as you fled, your sobs echoing through the hallways. His heart ached with the weight of his own guilt and the fear of losing you completely. Ignoring the servant’s continued bowing and murmurings, he sprinted after you, desperate to make you understand.

He reached your chamber door just as you slammed it shut, the sound reverberating down the corridor. He pressed his palms against the heavy wood, his forehead resting against it as he tried to steady his racing heart.

“Please, let me explain!” he called out, his voice thick with desperation. “I know you're hurt and angry, but you need to hear me out!”

Inside, you sank to the floor, your back against the door, tears streaming down your face. Your body shook with silent sobs, the enormity of the betrayal crushing down on you.

“Everything I've done,” Jacaerys continued, his voice muffled through the door, “I've done to protect you. I never wanted to deceive you. I never wanted any of this. But the council, the traditions... they're suffocating us both.”

His words felt like they were trying to reach you, trying to penetrate the thick wall of pain and anger that surrounded your heart. But the fear of your impending fate and the betrayal you felt were too overwhelming.

“Please, you have to believe me,” he begged, his voice breaking. “I love you. That love is real. And I will find a way to save you, I swear it. Just give me a chance to make this right.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The pain, the fear, the betrayal – they were all so raw, so immediate. But beneath it all, a small part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that the man you had come to care for was not the monster this situation painted him to be.

“I don’t know how to trust you again,” you whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear you through the thick door.

“I'll do whatever it takes,” Jacaerys vowed, his voice trembling with determination. “Just... don't shut me out. Please.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with the weight of his words. You stayed where you were, torn between the deep love you had started to feel for him and the horrifying reality you had uncovered. The choice to let him in or to push him away entirely seemed insurmountable in that moment.

With that, he pressed his hand against the door one last time, as if trying to offer some semblance of comfort through the barrier between you, before turning and walking away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your heartache.

When he entered the room, the council members were already deep in discussion, their hushed voices filling the space with an air of urgency. They looked up as he entered, some with mild surprise, others with impatience.

“Your Grace,” the maester began, “we are ready to pick up from where we left off earlier. We were just finalizing the preparations for the journey to Dragonstone.”

Jacaerys clenched his fists, his frustration barely contained. “This madness must end,” he declared, his voice shaking with a mixture of rage and desperation. “We cannot continue with this barbaric tradition. There has to be another way.”

They looked at him as if he was a loose-tempered child, their expressions a mix of annoyance and dismissal. Jacaerys stood firm, his eyes burning with intensity as he faced the council that seemed so indifferent to his pleas.

“Your Grace,” the man interjected, his tone patronizing, “tradition is not something to be discarded lightly. It is what binds us to our heritage, what ensures the stability of our rule. The dragons demand their due.”

Jacaerys shook his head in disbelief. “Is that all you see her as? A 'due' to be paid?” His voice cracked with emotion, his frustration boiling over.

One of the maesters, an older man with a stern look and a long gray beard, spoke up with a dismissive tone. “Your Grace, emotions have clouded your judgment. The girl is but a vessel for the ritual, a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of our house and the realm. Your sentimental attachment to her blinds you to the realities of our traditions.”

Jacaerys's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. He could feel his anger rising like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm him. “You dare speak of my wife like that again and I shall have your tongue for it.”

The maester who had spoken before, undeterred by Jacaerys's threat, leaned forward with a smirk playing on his lips. “Your Grace, threats will not change the course of history. The traditions of House Targaryen are not to be trifled with, even by a king.”

“The dragon will be fed sheep, or pigs, or cows. I do not care for what it is, just not an innocent, not her.”

The council members glanced at each other again, murmuring amongst themselves in low voices. They seemed to reach an unspoken agreement, their gazes finally settling on Jacaerys with a mixture of pity and resignation.

“Your Grace,” the maester said with a sigh, Jacaerys shook his head, turning on his heel and storming out of the council chamber, leaving the members behind in a stunned silence. All heads turned to look at the empty seat of the Queen, who was absent from the meeting to be with her children. 

The preparations proceeded.

Outside the chamber, he paused for a moment, leaning against the cool stone wall to catch his breath. His thoughts turned to you, his heart aching with the fear of losing you to the cruel tradition that dictated your fate. He couldn't bear the thought of what awaited you on Dragonstone, of the horror you must feel now that you knew the truth.

With a deep breath, Jacaerys pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk briskly through the corridors of the Red Keep. His steps were purposeful, driven by a desperate need to find a way to protect you, to defy the council's decree despite their authority. His mind raced with plans and strategies, each one more daring than the last.

As he passed by servants and guards, he saw the pity in their eyes, the whispers that followed him like a shadow. They knew of the impending sacrifice, of the council's decision, and of his futile attempts to defy it. Yet, despite their sympathy, Jacaerys knew he couldn't rely on anyone else to challenge the council openly. The risk was too great, the consequences too dire.

Finally, he reached the familiar door of your chambers. His hand trembled slightly as he lifted it to knock, unsure of how you would receive him after your confrontation in the library. He knew he had hurt you deeply, that his actions had shattered the trust you had begun to build between you.

Before he could knock, however, the door swung open suddenly. The sight of you standing there, eyes red from tears, took his breath away. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air between you.

He whispered your name, almost as if it was a secret, his hands reaching out to attempt to hold yours. You moved away, “I only wish to go to supper, the Queen is waiting.”

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his throat tight with unspoken words and unshed tears. He knew you were still hurting, still grappling with the betrayal he had inadvertently caused. The thought of losing you, of facing the council's cold and calculated decisions alone, sent a wave of despair crashing over him.

“I... I will not keep you.” he murmured finally, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You nodded slightly, your gaze flickering to the side, unable to meet his eyes. The pain and confusion swirled within you, making it difficult to think clearly or to know what to say next. 

Stepping back from the door, you slipped away from him, the distance between you feeling insurmountable. Jacaerys watched you go, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he was losing you, at least for now.

The walk to supper was silent and uncomfortable. Each step felt like a burden, the weight of your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Servants passed by, casting sympathetic glances your way, their whispered conversations barely registering as you made your way to the dining hall. 

“My dear,” she greeted you warmly, though her eyes held a hint of concern. “I trust everything is well?”

You managed a tight-lipped smile, nodding slightly. “Yes, Your Grace,” you replied softly, avoiding her gaze.

Sensing your need for space, she made no further inquiries, allowing the meal to proceed in an uneasy silence.

Throughout supper, you picked at your food, the taste of bitterness lingering on your tongue. The empty seat beside yours, your husbands, felt like a void, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you. You glanced at it occasionally, half-expecting Jacaerys to appear, to fix it all with a snap of his fingers. But he did not materialize, leaving you to wrestle with your conflicted feelings alone.

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, with her regal bearing and perceptive gaze, had always been keenly attuned to the emotional currents of those around her. As she observed you across the table during supper, she noticed the tension in your posture, the haunted look in your eyes, and the way you absently picked at your food.

Her own son's absence did not go unnoticed either. The empty seat beside you seemed to cast a shadow over the otherwise elegant atmosphere of the dining hall. Rhaenyra's eyes flickered towards it briefly, a fleeting moment of concern crossing her features before she schooled her expression into one of serene composure.

After a quiet and tense supper, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen rose gracefully from her seat, her gaze lingering briefly on the empty chair beside you before she moved towards the doors of the dining hall. Her steps were measured, her presence commanding even in the subdued atmosphere.

As she exited the hall, servants darted forward to attend to her, but she waved them off with a subtle gesture. Instead, she continued down the corridor that led towards the private chambers reserved for the royal family. Her mind was focused on one thing: finding her son, Jacaerys, and offering him whatever support and counsel she could in his time of need.

Rhaenyra found Jacaerys in his private study, poring over ancient tomes and scrolls that spoke of the history of Dragonstone and the ancient rituals of House Targaryen. He looked up as she entered, his expression a mixture of determination and weariness.

“Mother,” Jacaerys greeted her, his voice subdued yet filled with a quiet resolve. Queen Rhaenyra closed the door behind her, the quiet click echoing softly in the study as she approached her son. Jacaerys stood by his desk, surrounded by the weight of ancient knowledge and the burden of his current dilemma. His eyes, weary and troubled, met hers as she drew near.

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities. “The dragon must be fed, as tradition dictates.”

“No-” he interrupted.

“Jacaerys, listen to me,” she began softly.

He closed his mouth, frustration still evident on his face as he glared at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. 

“Ten sheep, as a symbolic gesture to fulfill the dragon's hunger. It will appease the tradition without sacrificing an innocent life. Like you said.”

Jacaerys remained silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as he mulled over her words. The weight of the decision pressed heavily upon him; he wanted desperately to protect you, yet he also feared the council's resistance to any deviation from the established ritual.

“It's risky,” he finally admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “But if there's even a chance...”

“We must take it,” Rhaenyra affirmed, her voice gentle yet firm. “I feel your heavy heart, my son. You are hurt.”

Rhaenyra's words cut through the turmoil swirling in Jacaerys's mind, her understanding of his pain offering a momentary comfort amidst the uncertainty. 

“I can't bear to lose her, Mother,” Jacaerys confessed quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “She trusted me, and I... I betrayed that trust.”

Rhaenyra reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, a gesture of maternal comfort. “Love makes us vulnerable, my son,” she murmured softly. “But it also gives us strength. You must believe in that strength now, for her sake and for yours.”

The day dawned with a heavy pall hanging over Dragonstone, the air thick with anticipation and dread. Servants moved about the castle with quiet efficiency, their expressions somber as they attended to their duties. Among them, preparing for the ritual that loomed ahead, was you.

Your mind felt numb, detached from the reality of what was to come. Every brush of the comb through your hair, every adjustment to your gown felt surreal, like you were watching someone else's life unfold. The knowledge of your impending sacrifice weighed heavily, a constant, gnawing ache in your chest that refused to abate.

Jacaerys, your husband, moved through the chambers with an air of quiet resolve. His eyes, usually warm and reassuring, now held a depth of sadness you couldn't bear to meet. He had sworn to his mother to keep the plan involving the sheep a secret, and despite the rocky state of your relationship, he ached to tell you.

As the time drew near, you found yourself seated beside Jacaerys in the carriage bound for the dragon pit. The journey was quiet, the clatter of hooves against cobblestones the only sound breaking the heavy silence between you. His presence beside you was both a source of solace and a reminder of the fractured trust between you.

You stole glances at him occasionally, noting the tension etched in his features, the way his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. There were words unsaid, wounds still raw and unhealed, but in this moment, facing the inevitable, you craved for his comfort.

Silently, you reached to place a hand on his thigh, stopping his leg from moving up and down in anxiousness. 

He turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours for understanding, for forgiveness. The weight of his secret, the burden of the deception he had carried to protect you, threatened to crush him. Yet, in that moment, your touch grounded him, reminding him of the love that still flickered between you despite everything.

You held his gaze, your own eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and longing. Words seemed inadequate in the face of what lay ahead, in the face of the unspoken turmoil between you. But your touch spoke volumes, a silent reassurance that even amidst the chaos, you were still connected.

Jacaerys covered your hand with his own, his touch gentle yet firm. His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, a gesture of comfort and apology. There were no words to express the depth of his regret, the anguish of seeing you face such a fate.

“I will fix this,” he promised in a whisper. You frowned at him and he felt his heart drop once again, your trust for him was fully gone. “I swear it.” he murmured against your hair, his voice hoarse.

You withdrew your hand from his grasp, the gesture a silent but clear indication of the distance that had grown between you. His heart ached at the loss of your touch, a physical manifestation of the emotional rift that now divided you. You remained silent, the weight of his promise echoing in the space between you. 

As the carriage finally reached its destination, the stark cliffs of Dragonstone rose ominously before you. Servants hurried to prepare for the landing, their movements efficient and solemn. The dragons' presence loomed in the background, a constant reminder of the ancient forces that governed their lives.

Jacaerys helped you disembark from the carriage, his touch tentative yet filled with an unspoken plea for forgiveness. You stood side by side, facing the imposing fortress and the council that awaited your arrival.

From the distance, you could see the beast, a dragon stood tall before the castle, many men parading around it holding sticks to prevent it from causing any damage other than his feast, you.

Jacaerys’ gaze moved to his mother, her arms crossed over her chest as she gave him a stern nod, telling him that the sheep were hidden, prepared to replace you just as they’d planned.

The servants moved away, maesters following behind as the hair walked you to the dragon, just like it was written in the books of tradition. Jacaerys was supposed to leave you standing in front of the dragon, leave and hide away in a corner before shouting the known command for you to be burnt. A private tradition for only husband and wife, for heir and sacrifice to see.

Your body shook in fear as you walked behind your husband, your hand grasping onto his red cape. He reached behind his body, his hand holding yours in hopes to calm you.

The dragon loomed ahead, its scaled form bathed in sunlight that glinted off its massive wings and claws. Men with sticks stood guard around it, their wary eyes trained on the beast as well as on you and Jacaerys. They stepped away once the Prince approached. 

Jacaerys's steps faltered briefly as he glanced back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and determination. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his grip firm yet gentle, a silent promise of his unwavering resolve to protect you at any cost.

As you approached the dragon, the enormity of the moment threatened to overwhelm you. Images from the ancient books of tradition flashed through your mind—husbands and wives standing before dragons, the command to burn uttered in hushed reverence. It was a private ritual, a solemn duty passed down through generations, and now it seemed poised to consume you.

You and Jacaerys were left standing on your hand, your hand clasped tightly in his as you tried to even your breaths. 

The dragon's gaze shifted, its attention momentarily drawn away as it sensed movement in the shadows. Jacaerys's breath caught in his throat, his grip on your hand tightening instinctively. For a fleeting moment, hope flared within you, a glimmer of possibility that the plan might succeed, that the ancient beast might accept the substitution.

But as the dragon turned back to you, its eyes narrowing with curiosity, the moment of truth arrived. Jacaerys turned to look at his mother, rushing with one of her maids behind her, and the promised sheep gathered. He couldn’t help the sigh of relief that washed over him, his hand letting go of yours to hold onto your waist and push you close to him as he quickly dragged the two of you away from the beast’s hungry eyes.

Together, you moved swiftly through the courtyard, away from the dragon and towards the safety of the castle's empty interior, the council already having left for their journey back to the Keep. Jacaerys's grip on your waist remained firm, his touch a reassurance of his steadfast protection in the face of danger. His mother kept pace beside you, her expression unreadable but tinged with a glimmer of pride in her son's daring defiance of tradition.

As you reached the threshold of the castle, Jacaerys finally allowed himself a moment to breathe, his gaze sweeping over you with relief and lingering concern. The weight of what had transpired hung heavy in the air, the daring gamble to spare you from the dragon's maw a testament to Jacaerys's unwavering determination and love.

Inside the safety of the castle walls, away from the dragon's menacing presence, Jacaerys pulled you into a tight embrace. His voice, thick with emotion, whispered words of gratitude and apology against your hair. You clung to him, the rush of adrenaline giving way to overwhelming relief and the beginnings of forgiveness.

From afar, you could hear the Queen voice the command, you watched in silence – as Jacaerys clung to you – the dragon spitting fire at the animals, the two women hurrying out of the way while it ate at the sheep. 

You felt a sob leave your throat at the sight, turning your body to fit into Jacaerys’ as you incoherently mumbled words of gratitude, his lips brushing against your skin every time he spoke caringly at you, apologizing, thanking the gods. 

“You're safe now,” Jacaerys murmured against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I'm so sorry you had to go through this. I never wanted any of this for you.”

“Please... Please forgive me. I know I don't deserve it, but I swear to you, I will spend every moment proving myself to you.” 

You buried your face in his chest, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. His words of remorse and desperation washed over you, mingling with the relief of surviving the ordeal.

“I'm so sorry,” Jacaerys continued, his voice choked with emotion as he whispered. “I should have told you everything from the beginning. I never meant to deceive you, to put you through this. Please, I beg you... take whatever time you need. I understand if you can't ever forgive me.”

You felt his words reverberate through your chest, each syllable heavy with remorse and love. His vulnerability touched your heart, reminding you of the man you had fallen in love with despite the secrets that had threatened to tear you apart.

“I need you to know,” Jacaerys whispered, his fingers gently caressing your back. “I love you. More than anything. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It began as a whisper, a soft meeting of lips that conveyed all the unspoken words – the apologies, the gratitude, the hope for a future together. The taste of salt from lingering tears mixed with the sweetness of relief, creating a bittersweet sensation that only deepened the connection between you.

Jacaerys responded with an enthusiasm that spoke volumes. His arms encircled you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss deepened, filled with a yearning that transcended the physical, binding your souls together in a moment of deep intimacy.

His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, pouring out his heart in the touch of his mouth on yours. In that embrace, amidst the echoes of their shared ordeal, you found solace and strength in each other's arms.

When you finally pulled away, a soft smile graced Jacaerys' lips, his eyes shining with gratitude. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands tenderly caressing your cheeks as if trying to imprint the moment into memory. You nestled into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

“One step at a time,” you mumbled, catching from the corner of your eye, the hint of a smile fighting to appear on his face. 

Together, you stood in the quiet sanctuary of the castle, your bodies pressed close as if seeking solace in each other's presence. The weight of what had transpired hung in the air, but so did a glimmer of hope – a hope that with time and effort, your love could mend the fractures that had threatened to break you apart. 

Jacaerys seemed unconcerned with the Council's potential reaction to his and his mother's defiance of tradition, wholly absorbed in the moment. His thoughts were consumed by your scent and the significance of your first kiss since your wedding. He silently hoped it marked the beginning of a new normal, regardless of the Council's opinions upon your return to the Red Keep. 

taglist: @smurfelle @earth4angels @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 (taglist link is on pinned!)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I please request Bill thinking he finally found a human who won't betray him, someone he really enjoyed the company of (but would never admit to that because Bill) only to find them trying to destroy the portal?

This is long as shit, be warned and I tried to keep bill in character as much as possible but he might be ooc at some points.

Your first meeting with Bill was one he didn’t expect. When faced with something you know isn’t normal, the response Bill was expecting was you running away until you were out of sight, talking off the ears of anyone who’d head your warning but you instead smiled at him.

‘Nice bow tie and top hat sentient triangle.’ You said.

‘The names Bill Cipher, so you can stop calling me that name, I find it rather insulting, and thanks! I dress to impress but most people just run away or scream bloody murder to appreciate my effort to look presentable’ he replies, finding himself a new human pet to play with after swearing to himself that Sixer would be the last, Bill was a liar and he knew it, messing with humans and destroying their physique was the most genuine fun he’s had in a long, long while.

This was merely the begging of yours and Bills weird friendship and it was only going to get weirder from this point onwards.

Being friends with a sentient triangle dream demon was…a experience indeed as you’d often wake to him floating above you, drinking something through a silly straw and wearing a hat unlike the usual slim black top hat he wore, only to find out that he had somehow snuck several chicken into your room that had scaly dragon legs and could breath fire.

That took a while for you to get ride of them with a wooden broom and not have it set on fire when the chickens retaliate with fire.

‘How did you find such things?’ You’d ask Bill when sitting down to eat breakfast.

He shrugs. ‘You search for a realm that swaps certain anatomy of animals and play a demented game of mix and match to see what monstrosities to humanity could be made and bingo! Infinite possibilities of scaring or scaring people for the rest of their lives! ha ha!’

‘And chickens with dragon feet and could breath fire is your go to choice, wasn’t there anything else you could’ve chosen from?’ You inquired as you took a bite of your breakfast and immediately grimacing when you felt something was off.

‘Oh sure there was and- oh you’ve found where I put my mealworms from last week.’ Bill casually told you as he plays with his silly straw while you spat your breakfast out into a nearby bin, wiped your mouth before pushing the plate away from you as your appetite was ruined.

'glad to be of help. buddy.' you replied as you decided that it would be best to wait for bill to disappear before attempting to eat and or drink again.

As the weeks progress Bill found himself enjoying your company more than he originally suspected, sure you were fun to mess with and play impractical pranks on from time to time. However -and he’ll never admit this ever- he had come to actually enjoy spending time with you and getting to know you outside of his personal human plaything.

Bill begrudgingly remembered your least favourite family member and why, your favourite colour, your first pets name and so much more that he would deem unimportant; to things that were deep and personal to you such as your fear of being alone or not taken seriously enough. To which he offered some -albeit questionable- advice.

‘Listen if everyone takes themselves seriously or someone wants everyone else to take them seriously, then who’s going to laugh at kids when they fall over, or at people who make an fool of themselves as they fall upon their own sword of hubris.’ Bill tells you once as you both sat on the roof of your home, star gazing.

‘And what am I meant to take away from all that ?’ You asked, not understanding what he was getting with this.

‘Don’t take yourself too seriously or expect others to either when you know that version of yourself will be someone you’ll sooner regret wishing for.’ Bill responded.

‘Do you miss home?’ You then asked him out of the blue and Bill couldn’t help but be a little taken aback by it.

‘Home..’ bill trailed off as he took his hat off, reached a hand inside and pulled out a glowing atom, the remains of his home. ‘This is what remains of my home.’ He tells you rather sombrely, remembering the last time he told a human of his origins, only for him to dedicate himself into destroying him.

‘I’m..I’m so sorry I didn’t-‘ you’d tried to apologise but bill held up a hand as he returned the remains of his home back into his top hat before putting it back on his head.

‘It’s fine. I was bound to tell you about that sooner or later.’ He waves his hand but you could tell you struck a nerve.

‘Sooo…what happened to your home, only if you don’t mind me asking.’ - you

‘It was destroyed by a monster.’ Bill answered with a distant look in his eye.

‘As stupid as this will probably sound to you but you’ll always have a home with me, I hope you know that.’ You told him with the most genuine smile across your face and Bill couldn’t help but feel…touched by your words. He’s thrown and done everything to push you to the brink and all you’ve done was withstand him and his shenanigans all the while standing your ground.

‘You’re a strange human and your sentimentality makes me physically sick but…I guess I appreciate the thought.’ Bill had to force himself to say, he might as well have swallowed down stones with how hard it seemed for him to say anything remotely considerate. You were quite possibly the only human that showed him kindness and compassion and that made the dream demon feel weird and out of his depth.

Now that Bill was thinking about it not once had you ever given him a reason to distrust you, sure he was suspicious of you at first, but overtime you have proven yourself to be the most trustworthy person in his long, long life. You had made him feel unlike anything he’s felt before and that made him on edge, just in the case that he was being lured into a false sense of security later down the line, but nope you didn’t do such a thing and stayed open and honest him no matter what.

It almost made bill feel bad about the shit he put you through but soon he’d come to regret saying these words, for not even a week later and Bill caught you red handed destroying his portal after searching the house for you when you didn’t greet him like usual.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’ He screamed, his body burning brightly at the betrayal you’ve just committed, was everything you said a lie? Were you just as good at pulling people along as he was? How long have you been waiting for this exact moment to get back at him?

‘What does it look like, I’m destroying the portal.’ Your reply was stone cold as you continued to dismantle the portal piece by piece while Bill shouted profanities at you.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ - bill

‘That’s cute coming from someone who takes sick enjoyment in breaking every human he comes across, pushing them into utter madness with no remorse!’ You chuckled humourlessly as you looked at the dream demon who looked about ready to either cry or combust.

‘YOU LIED TO ME!’ Bill repeated as his anger only grew stronger the more he began to think back on all of your heart to heart moments and wonder whether they were fake too? Did you not mean it when you said that he had a home with you?

‘I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.’ You retorted. ‘Now are you going to shut up and kill me or keep ranting on how I somehow betrayed you because either way I don’t care.’ You added as you watched the triangular demon closely.

‘Kill you? Oh no sweetie, you’ve just earned a fate WORSE THEN DEATH! Eternal torture until you speak the truth and then torture you so more because I find your pathetic humans pain funny!’ Bill laughed maniacally. ‘And to think I was starting to like you, you just had to go and stab me in the back!’

You shrug, trying to hide how scared you were in this moment, knowing that even if you did scream for help it would be far too late by the time Ford, Stan or either dipper or Mabel to save you and you were okay with that. ‘First time for everything right?’ You asked with a smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll get use to it sooner or later.’

Bill’s eye was wide and looking maniacal in the moment as his voice was oddly and unnervingly calm that it froze your blood. ‘You humans might act brave in the face of danger, but what I’m capable will have you wishing you never picked up that wrench or tried playing the hero. For playtime is over.’

[n0tamused]

Will you stay?

A/n: save me sad dragon general, save me... sad dragon general you better get ready cause I'm sending happiness your way whether you like it or not

Content: Jiyan x Reader (fem implied, but no pronouns used), angst undertone but it all turns to fluff, Jiyan referred to as a husband, word vomit, non sexual nudity implied, not proof-read, maybe a tiny bit ooc? Feedback is appreaciated

Moonlight cascades through the open window in silky streams, showering the white sheets with silver and shimmer. The world is at peace, and quiet prevails all around, much unlike the main battle front. For only a few hours he spends here, Jiyan feels as if his lifelong wish is fulfilled. A facade it is, a dream, but it is comforting in all its delusion. Maybe one day it will come true, and he won't be forced to abandon your warm embrace for another month, and more, to fight.

His eyes move from the window and down at you where you have nestled yourself against his chest, your arms draped around him. It’s well into the depth of the night, yet both of you are denying sleep that so obviously hangs heavy over your eyelids - as any hour more means longer time spent together. And up until that point he has been listening to you talk about your days in the city, your fingertips tracing his chest and the occasional scar that paints itself thin and textured, different from the rest of his smooth skin. When you trailed off, he was quick to notice. His chin dipping slightly down to look at you.

Your finger neverending in its work of drawing him out, feeling him in all his warmth, living warmth - and your eyes lost themselves in images your mind conjured of what the battlefield looked like now. Red skies and twisted lands soiled with blood of people from the same city you were in now, the same people that were once someone’s little boys and girls, daddy’s girl and momma’s boys. Only now they were decades older with heavy bags under their eyes, lying in the desolate lands under trees for cover. 

“Don’t think about it.. don’t.. let that plague your mind, my dear” Jiyan spoke up, his hand coming up to cup yours that had begun to shake over his chest, fingers curling into your palms. Jiyan wished he could take this worry away from you, he wished he could protect you from the horrific unknown and all the terrifying images of your imagination, but such a task was an impossible one. Your bare body can only share his warmth and hold on to what is currently there.

“(Y/n).. “

“Tell me about your days..” you whispered, cutting him off as timidly as a petal of a flower. You pick your head up and place it on top of his chest, gazing into those golden eyes you had dreams of when he was gone. Pretty in all their glory, even as they regarded you with worry and question. Jiyan sighs softly, his eyes wandering to the ceiling and the small swirly patterns that show up with the moon. That was your choice to put up there, little swirls and dots and constellations..

“Days are long and tiring. I often miss the smell of the city while out at the front, and your cooking. The ingredients and supplies are scarce but we are alright, we are holding together, my dear” his words resonate softly in your ears, and to an extent they bring you comfort. His thumb is rubbing the inside of your palm, massaging the soft skin until the shakiness subsides, and furthermore. “During the down-time, when there’s no danger to confront, the soldiers always seem to find new ways to entertain themselves” at that a small smile broke over his solemn and tired features, prompting you to smile as well. He has told you before how men would jest and play, little children stuck in bodies of adults, chasing one another after one of them threw a boot at someone. It was a reminder all of these soldiers were people and that they were alive, but most importantly they still held onto their humanity and hope. So much hope that one could feel it from a mile away. 

“The other day, before our departure towards here, they were bold enough to attempt a small jest about me and it backfired, well it was unintentional frankly, I just happened to walk in on them. I suppose a new rumor broke out how I dismiss people from the military after I give them  medical assistance”

“What? That’s ridiculous.. You wouldn’t send anyone home unless they were really badly behaving or injured”

“Yes. But that doesn’t quell the rumors, especially among the new cadets, which makes me think this is some ploy of the more experienced bunch as to scare the youth But..as I was walking by the tents and corners I ran into this group huddled under the lamp, talking about this rumor. I’m not sure what came over me, but I just marched up to them and coldly began to question them, about what they were doing and such” A stupid smile came across his lips now, a childish one you relished in seeing and it make you physically perk up to hear the rest of the story. Your leg came over his waist as you tried to comfortably lay on his chest.

“One of those men had a pretty bad leg wound from the day prior, but nothing life threatening. However, he has been quite snarky with Captains and other soldiers, so I gazed at his bandaged wound, then up at him, and then I asked if he wanted me to take a look at it. The team went silent as a grave, my love- I..”

“The rumor had so much effect on them? Pfftt-” “Yes! I was quite shocked too, I had to hold back my surprise, but he went pale, I can’t even describe it to you. Whoever created this rumor really was creative, I need to give them that, but I really couldn’t play so long afterwards. I had to clear it up..”

You giggle at his words, forehead pressing against his collarbone as your chest flutters with warmth, just imagining this scenario was silly - has your husband become such a menace in the army? Him? Sure, he was skilled beyond belief, but the way he laid beneath you and the way he touched you could never make you believe he was scary. You know him, for crying out loud! And due to that, this was all the funnier.

Jiyan joined your fit of giggles, other hand rubbing and holding your back, pushing you up against his chest that jumped with cackles. “Goodness- now you’re laughing at me as well” he comments lightheartedly.

“Apologies, apologies, I can’t help myself” you respond and slowly come back to your composure with a long sigh of relief. “Those poor souls, scared by my precious husband. Perhaps I should start scolding you at home more often” Your hand sneaks from his hold and pinches his cheek teasingly, causing  him to click his tongue and pull away, reminded of the way his mother would do the same action when he was younger, although not so teasingly or playfully. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, his other arm soon joining its pursuit of keeping you still against him.

“Perhaps you should not. I missed you too much, but then again.. If scolding me is the way to hear more of your voice, I could get used to it..” Jiyan says as he releases his tight hold of you, letting you slump against his chest with a small exhale. “But now..” his lips found your forehead, pressing a lingering kiss to it before pulling away. “You must rest. I know how little sleep you got the last few days..” he says and reaches for the covers that were pushed down in your small tussle. The blanket covers your back and you instantly feel warmer, nestled here against him.

The thought of him leaving makes a pang settle in your heart once more, heavy and sharp. “Jiyan.. will you be able to stay for breakfast at least?” you ask him, hoping, wishing, praying.. just an hour will do.

“.. I will. I’ll wake you up, aright? We’ll cook something together..” There’s promise in his voice and it is undeniably prevalent and true, otherwise he would not be saying these things. Jiyan kissed your forehead again, hugging you against him and closing his eyes.

The upcoming morning suddenly became something to look forward to.

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

[lair-of-platonic-yanderes]

Little Archon

Platonic! Yandere! Neuvillette x GN! Child! Furina! Reader

Description: Archons will do anything to protect their nations, including putting a burden in a child.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Platonic Yandere. Focalor's actions can be seen as questionable. Reader need a hug. Spoilers for Fontaine Archon Quest. Neuvillette isn't happy with Focalor and The Knave.

_________

Her powers flow through Focalor's body. Hydro Archon looked at the distance, trying not to think too much about the current situation.

Separating divinity from body and spirit take a lot of time. And Focalor was left one on one with her thoughts during the separation.

Bit by bit, she separated everything, that even has a drop of divinity, from her body and soul. Her greatest creation. So perfectly human.

The process was almost over. Focalor's could already see the outlines of the new "Hydro Archon". She only needed to separate the last bits of divinity.

And then her mind started to wander. Plan was risqué. If it fails, Fontaine will be doomed. 

Another thought strike her, like a lightning. What if hydro dragon won't get enough powers from her divinity? Focalor's gaze feel on Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale, that now contained almost all of her divinity. Then her body fell on what essentially were her body and soul. The figure was the same height to Focalor. 

Hydro Archon carefully reached with her powers to "Hydro Archon". Divinity was a tricky thing. It was everywhere in Archon's body. Perhaps, she should separate some more bits of her. That didn't have pure divinity, but have echoes of it? 

Bit. After bit. After bit.

More powers were stored in Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. Focalor's nodded slowly. It would be enough. Now she only needed to wake the new "Hydro Archon".

Focalor looked at them.

They became smaller. Much younger. 

Child. "Hydro Archon" became a child.

Focalor's chewed her lips. She could reverse separation and try again. And make sure, that this time her double will be older.

Her gaze fall on Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale again. All her powers were there. The chance for Fontaine's salvation. 

On one hand, the bigger chance for salvation of her nation.

On the other hand, child, that won't be forced to live centuries under curse, with no chance of normal life.

Ever since she became an Archon, Focalor's wasn't seen by her people. They won't question, why new archon are so young.

Oceanids left Fontaine. They won't reveal, that Archon aren't her.

The child will contain most of her memories. They won't act according to their age. Their behavior won't be questioned.

Maybe, hydro dragon would find kid adorable. And it will help in her plan's succeed.

Fontaine. Or a child.

With tears in her eyes, Focalor finished the separation. Remains of her divinity flew into Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. Before fading, she whispered. 

"I am sorry, [Y/N]. I hope, that one day, you could forgive me."

_________

Sometimes, you saw a woman in your dreams. She had tears in her eyes. She would apologize to you over and over again.

At first, you thought, that she was your mother. Your mother, that entrust Very Important Mission on you.

You quickly realized, that she wasn't your mom.

You were just a shred of true Hydro Archon. And she had a Very Important Mission for you.

You are a kid and you have a mission

You are a kid and you don't have a mom. 

______

Neuvillette hasn't seen Hydro Archon before. He heard about them.

Loud, boisterous, attention seeker (with term 'spoiled brat' whispered in the dark alleys).

Today, he would see them for the first time.

When he was called in the room, where Hydro Usurper would meet with him, Neuvillette braced himself, before entering.

At first, he thought, that room was empty. He couldn't see Hydro Archon anywhere. Then his gaze fall on the child, that were sitting on the couch before a small table, full of treats. He could feel it. Child have traces of divinity.

'That child are Hydro Archon?'

Meanwhile, child struck a little pose.

"Are you speechless, Monsieur Neuvillette? I can't blame you. You are in the presence of The brightest Star of Fontaine!"

Neuvillette's eyes widen.

'Why Hydro Usurper were so young?'

Meanwhile, child waved their hand.

"I know, that you would gladly spend hours admiring me, but, you will have enough time for that! Should we discuss your new job as Chief Justice, Monsieur Neuvillette?"

Neuvillette slowly nodded.

"We should..."

________

Your room in Palais Mermonia was a dream come true for any children. Tons of toys, children books, big bad you can jump on. You need something else? You could always ask for it, and it will be delivered to your doorstep.

Everyone loves the Biggest Celebrity of Fontaine. Child Archon deserve only best things.

Among all of your toys, you only loved three.

Three plush animals.

During the first hundred years of your performance, you played pirates, adventures and theater with them.

During the second century of your performance, you played school with them.

During the third century of your performance, you played explorers with them.

During the fourth century of your performance, you read books to them.

During the fifth century of your performance, you cried yourself to sleep, while hugging your favorite three toys.

__________

Neuvillette was in his office. He had some time to take a quick break. 

He was holding his glass, full of water from The Fountain of Lucine. Some melusines decided to bring his a bottle of Fountain's water. Surprisingly, they also saw Hydro Archon with their hands in the Fountain. They quickly left, when they saw melusines near.

Neuvillette was thinking.

By all means, Neuvillette shouldn't like Hydro Archon.

[Y/N] have his elemental authority. 

[Y/N] were loud, boisterous and snotty.

[Y/N], while not being The First, still were one of the Seven Usurper.

But Neuvillette can't bring himself to hate the kid, or be angry at them.

They were just a kid. There were no reason to waste his anger on them. Neuvillette won't be surprised, if Hydro Archon won't fight, if Neuvillette decides to challenge them for hydro authority.

Neuvillette took the first sip.

He was flooded with emotions.

Emotions of a very lonely and sad child. Neuvillette froze. It never happened before. [Y/N]... Were it you? Were it your emotions?

Neuvillette drank the rest of the glass. 

Then the remaining water from the bottle.

He returned to his work. But young hydro archon were still on his mind.

__________

You were attending an opera performance in Opera Epiclese. Neuvillette refused the invitation, pretending, that he had some important work to do.

It was the truth. But, his work wasn't connected to the court. 

Neuvillette closed the door in your room behind him. Neuvillette wasn't supposed to be here, in your room. But he wanted to see, with his own eyes, how you lived. And why you were so sad.

The room was big, full of everything, that a child could ever want or need.

Yet, everything looked too new. Too clean. Like you weren't using anything in your room.

Except for three well-worn plush toys (Ball Octopus, Bubbly Seahorse and Armored Crab) on your bed. The traces of countless repairs clearly visible on the stuffed animals. 

Neuvillette looked at your bookshelves. There was a common theme in all of your books. In them, at the end, main characters will get a family. A loving parents or older siblings.

'Lonely Archon. Lonely child...'

Dragons looked after their young. In some cases, they looked after each other dragonets.

Hydro Dragon has never looked after young dragonets. But, he also hasn't lived among humans.

Neuvillette has lived among humans for five hundred years now.

Maybe, it was time to took in a child.

___________

The cat you met on the street was fluffy and playful. You can't help, but smile. Animals were good. Animals were great.

But, you can't focus entirely on the cat. One thought was bothering you.

Something strange was happening with Neuvillette. It looked like, he was looking after you? He sent warm meals to you through melusines, ordered guards to bring more blankets to your room, shut down annoying reporters... He even put a scarf around your neck that day, when temperature in Opera Epiclese were colder, than usual.

If you were honest, he always scared you a little. You don't want to think, what he will do with you, when your performance will be over. He looked distant and hard to approach.

So why he was so worried about you? Your loud attitude didn't change, so, why Neuvillette suddenly decided to take care of you?

The cat's loud meow interrupted your thoughts. It hissed and dashed away from you. You reach your hand towards it.

"Wait! Can we play some more?!"

Then a shadow fall on you.

__________

You were crying on the throne.

The last few days were a nightmare. The Knave. The Trial. 

And now Fontaine was sinking in waters of the Primordial Sea.

Did you fail? 

You felt, that you did.

Your performance was for nothing.

Your pain was for nothing.

You were nothing, but a failure.

__________

Neuvillette was looking at Focalor. True Hydro Archon. The first reason for his kid's pain.

Neuvillette listened to her explanation of her plan. When she finished, he spoke. His lips barely moved.

"You made them cry."

Focalor hide her gaze. She looked guilty.

"I know. And I am sorry for that. I wanted to save Fontaine. If there was another way..."

Sharp talons pierced Focalor's shoulders. Neuvillette growled, showing his sharp fangs.

"You made my kid suffer, Focalor! Knew, that today you aren't being judged for your predecessor's sins. Today, you are being judged for your own sins. For every single one of [Y/N]'s tears."

Neuvillette shoved her away. He was watching her, like a hawk.

"So, god of false justice, you herself gave the verdict. Execution. And don't make me wait. I have a child to look after."

_______

Fontaine was saved. Your performance was a success.

You stand before The Fountain of Lucine.

You were alone. You felt lost.

What should you do now? Where should you go?

Suddenly, you were picked up. Iudex of Fontaine was cradling you. He had a smile, you never saw on his face before.

"There you are, small dragonet! I am so glad, you didn't get lost. Let's go, your new home is waiting. I will take a good care of you, I promise! I will teach you about using Hydro powers, you will have everything you need, you will never cry again."

He started walking, while still carrying you. You closed and opened your mouth.

"What...? But... I am not... No Vision"

Neuvillette hummed. Something heavy landed in your stomach.

A hydro vision with four dragon fangs.

"Oh, don't worry, [Y/N]. Everything will be fine from now on. You will never see people, that want to hurt you. Now you can enjoy your life to the fullest."

You felt, that something drastic will happen in Fontaine.

________

If Neuvillette could cause harm with his gaze, The Knave would be a pile of bare bones on the ground. How she dared to show her face before him, after what she did to his child.

Neuvillette's tone of voice didn't betray him.

"So, you want to have Hydro Ghosis?"

Fatui Harbinger nodded. Her voice was calm.

"Yes. It seems, there is no need for Fontaine to keep it anymore."

Neuvillette pretend to think about it.

"I have a better proposition. You see, I don't need that thing. But... You scared and almost killed my kid. So, don't wait for any sighs of goodwill from me, aside our current deal. Listen closely. Conditions are: in forty-eight hours, all Fatui will leave Fontaine and will never return. If you refuse, I will force them to leave on their own feet. And then I will flood Snezhnaya."

Hydro Dragon met The Knave's gaze. Fatui Harbinger stepped back. Iudex of Fontaine wasn't joking. The Knave felt the earth trembling under her feet. Waters of Fontaine were rising.

"I will ensure, that my kid are happy. Doesn't matter, if I need to flood all Teyvat. Their happiness is the only thing, that matters."

______

Focalor's was right in her own way.

Child double did help Hydro Dragon to save Fontaine.

The nation was safe.

For a price of Teyvat being reshaped for keeping Child double happy.

[litchifaerie]

Guilty as Sin [Aemond Targaryen]

pairing: aemond targaryen x niece!reader (unspecified dad)

warnings: fluff, very little angst, not Daemon's daughter but she has silver hair, ooc!aemond (?), "i burn for you" typa confession. niece!reader strikes again.

word count: 3.3k

After the incident of Driftmark, it was a known fact that the family of the dragon has now broken into two factions, namely: The Hightower Greens and The Targaryen Blacks. Young Prince Lucerys had somehow managed to blind his uncle, Prince Aemond, in an act of what rumours say to be “self defence”. The family damaged beyond repair went on to live separately, no longer finding joy in maintaining the facade of a “happy joint family” to appease their king. Now years later, the question of inheritance of Driftmark is raised. Lord Corlys Velaryon is feared to be nearing his death and thus Vaemond Velaryon has raised a petition for himself to be declared the heir instead of its true heir, Lucerys Velaryon.

When the Blacks made their home in Dragonstone it took them quite a while to settle in with its rough seas and jagged cliffs. In a few months everyone seemed to settle in well. Everyone except for Rhaenyra’s eldest child, her only daughter, you. Back at King’s Landing you loved the court. You loved meeting the ambassadors of kingdoms you had read about in books with Aemond. You loved sneaking around the castle at midnight with Aemond. Your bare feet hurriedly rushing over the cold of the stone floors in search of some leftover lemon cakes in the kitchens. You loved sewing with Helaena and learning the names of her friendly little creatures. You and Aemond were perhaps the only companions she had growing up.

Yes, yes, you missed Aemond even more so. And now six years later, here you are, sitting in the carriage with your mother and step-father awaiting to reach the Red Keep soon. You’re busy gazing out the windows, looking at how much King’s Landing has changed. I wonder if that jeweller still has a shop in the city market. Lost in your thoughts you jump a little when you hear your mother speak. “Do keep an eye on your brothers there. Daemon and I have some matters to attend with the King the moment we reach. I do not want those two to pick a fight with your uncles.” Rhaenyra speaks calmly.

You nod with a polite “Of course mother”. And with a moment of hesitation, you ask “Is it alright if I invite Helaena for an afternoon tea, perhaps even a play date for her twins and little Viserys and Aegon? Please allow it mother! It has been ages since I last saw her! I wish to see my baby cousins and catch up with my dear aunt…” Rhaenyra can never say no to your pleading eyes. She only chuckles “yes my dear you may”.

It wasn’t a long while before the carriage came to a stop. A knight comes to open the door for you. “No one to greet us hmm” murmurs Daemon. His ability to remain stoic sometimes makes him seem invisible even in close proximity. He steps out first, helping you and your mother down next. Jace and Luce come rushing begging to go to the training grounds. “Boys”, you call out, “Mother and Father have some matter to attend to. Now if we may, lets see how the knights here train at King’s Landing.” With that you just turn around and they follow you like ducklings, ever the obedient little brothers.

You make your way to the training yard, looking around and seeing specks of your past. It all seemed like a far away dream now. How happily the boys played fight together, with you dabbling in some swordplay at times. Distant shouts of cheers catch your attention and you look their way. “Seems like there’s a fight going on” Jace remarks. And Luce replies energetically “Lets go see how the knights fare then” and drags you both towards the crowd.

A clash of swords and flurry of movements of men later you are able to catch a glimpse of long silver hair. A Targaryen. Long hair and a fine swordsman? Can’t be Aegon. That leaves the 2 others. And as you get closer you recognise his silhouette. It took you a little time but you can spot him anywhere still. It’s not your eyes that tell you of his identity but your heart. Its him. Yes, it is. Its Aemond.

“Well done my prince. In no time will you be participating in Tourneys.” Says the knight, who if your memory serves right must be Ser Criston Cole. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys” Aemond replies trying to gather himself after that tiring display of amazing swordsmanship. And then he spots you. At first Aemond believed it to be untrue. His mind had played many such games with him through the period of your absence. The Gods were cruel to not only rob him of his eye but also his dearest friend the same night. Maybe he stared at you a moment too long because that was enough for Jace to step in front of you and shield you from his uncle's view. At that Aemond seems to snap back to reality. “Nephews, come to train? Shall we see who has turned into a better swordsman these past 6 years.” He clearly is still looking to pick fights. You put your hand on Jace’s shoulder “Do not engage he just wants to rile you up”.

The crowd whispers amongst itself. Do you see that? The sons of the Queen and Princess do not get along. Are the whispers true then- You think you need to squash these whisperings now by a show of goodwill. You walk towards Aemond in the “dainty” manner a proper Lady should approach a Lord. “Uncle” you come to a halt just a bit away from Aemond, a few inches closer than it is deemed appropriate. “How have you been? I see the years have been kind to you. The tales of your growing talent of sparring has reached Dragonstone. And I am happy to say those words do no justice to your skill. You’re much better than what they lead us to believe.” Flattery. Heaps of it. So what if it’s a little backhanded. I need to patch things up even if it’s a little. “Dear niece” Aemond raises your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles “Ever the beauty. That must mean the tales of Lords and Knights fighting over a chance to court you must be true then?” and all you can do is chuckle. Oh so he will play this game then. “You flatter me too much my prince. I was wondering if you and Princess Helaena would have your afternoon tea with me. I’ve missed you incredibly. And I just can’t wait to meet little Jaehaera and Jaehaerys”

Ser Cole places his hand on the prince’s arm, “Perhaps some other day Princess. Prince Aemond has some mat-”. “Yes I will” Aemond butts in before Cole can finish. “Very well then” you fold your hands together. “I shall take my leave now. The journey here was rather long and tiring”. You look behind you to see the astonished faces of your brothers. You know what thy must be thinking. What the fuck is going on in her head? “Come Jace. Come Luce. Let us go freshen up. Mother is waiting for us” You wait for your brothers to take one of your arms each. And you leave just like that. Maintaining eye contact with Aemond for as long as it was societally acceptable of you to look his way without it spurring rumours.

Are her hips swaying? Is what Aemond notices as he watches you leave. With a smirk on his face his last thought is: You’re home now zaldrītsos.

You walk with your brothers to your room, both of them still silent, a little surprised at your actions that’s all. You’re at your door when you turn around “Brothers if you may. Please go to your respective rooms and tell your servants how you’ll like your rooms arranged. The long jouney has taken a toll on me and I wish to be alone.” They know that tone. They know what you say is less of a suggestion and is most definitely a command. And they know better than to cross you when you’re tired. Being short tempered is something you have learned from Daemon while growing up. He truly was your father in every way imaginable except biologically.

Once in the comforts of your room you let a deep beath out. And there it is on your bed. You hoped it would be. The letter with the blue wax seal on it. A sapphire blue.

“Welcome back dear niece.

 The crown jewel has finally returned to the court.

 See you in the evening.”

                              ~ A. T.

It’s evening now and in another part of the Keep, Aemond seems to overhear a very important conversation on his way to his sister. One about the matter of your betrothal. “Those Hightower cunts” Daemon seethes openly. Mother? Aemond hides behind a pillar in the seemingly deserted corridor while he heard his uncle openly badmouth his “kin” without any care of who might hear. The doors to the chamber were left ajar. “When you suggested y/n be betrothed to Aegon and Jace to Helaena. She refused the very moment it was suggested. Appalled that such a proposal can even be made. And now when we are here to have the king’s blessing to betroth Jace to y/n, the so called Hand has already made a suggestion for a match between that one eyed boy knight and our daughter!” Rhaenyra is just silent. Daemon seethes in his anger. But all Aemond focuses on is that he could have your hand if his mother finds a way. And also, a little angry that Jacaerys Velaryon, rather Strong, might covet what’s his.

Fuelled by what he refuses to call jealousy, the prince makes his way through the Keep. With only one destination in mind, he storms through the corridors paying no mind to the strange looks he receives. And its as if he is 10 again, knocking at the doors of his beloved friend. But now he is a man of 19, and she is more than his friend. She is his destiny and he will have her.

You’re busy taking your heavy necklace off, opting to wear long delicate crystal earring instead which matches the long flowy gown you changed into for the tea when you notice the knocks. Thinking its your ladies-in-waiting you yell out a “Come in.” Setting the necklace on top of the dresser, you’re surprised to find Aemond’s reflection staring at you through the mirror. “My prince” you turn to face him, still sitting at your vanity, “Aren’t you here a little early for the tea?”

“Hmm…” Aemond just hums in reply and sits on the settee nearby, “I’ve come to know of an interesting proposition regarding you my niece”. That was enough to have your attention, “And what that might be Aemond?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to be betrothed by the time your stay here ends”. You’re a little stunned but you expected this coming. Your mother has given you the liberty to choose who you might marry but you won’t do so at the expense of her political foothold. Marriage cannot always be for love and you will follow your duty like the honorable Princess of the realm you are if that is what’s required of you. “Yes, I’m aware” you tell him plainly. “I think they have Jacaerys in mind.”

“And you have no issue regarding it” Aemond asks, finding himself to be a little unnerved at your calm demeanour. “No issue whatsoever?” And you can’t help but sigh “It is what is expected of me uncle. Targaryens are known to marry their siblings. Look at yours. I always knew that there might be a possibility of me marrying Jacaerys. I am my mother’s firstborn. Her heir. But I am not a son. She only seeks to squash any problem that might raise for when I ascend the throne by marrying me to her firstborn son.”

“He’s not worthy of you. None of those plain-featured boys. You’re more valyrian than they are with your silver hair.” Aemond speaks out. “If I were you, I would watch my tongue Aemond. Don’t want you to lose your other eye due to your idiocy.” You say casually while combing through your hair.

Aemond was a little sick of your nonchalant attitude. How can you agree to this match? Why do you seem so fine? Why are you willing to go through with this? All he can do is sit in silence, his eye refusing to watch your figure, his ego stopping him from expressing what he wants. But you know what he wants, and you want him to say it out loud.

You get up from the vanity, your silver hair in loose waves, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow around you. You look like the very picture of an angel to Aemond with a halo behind you. And suddenly all he can see is you, all he can breathe is you. You’re close, too close to him, his knees are touching your leg as you stand in front of him. The door to your room is only closed shut and not locked. One can just simply walk in and catch you.

Your fingers ghost over his cheek, trailing up to his eyepatch. “Does it hurt now?” he hears you say. There is no pity on your face, just curiosity. And your touch is so delicate, so soothing. “Not as much. Sometimes when I have worked myself too hard a sharp sensation shoots up but then subsides in a while”. And now its your turn to hum. Bringing your other hand to his other cheek you gently cup his face. And Aemond’s lone eye meets yours.

His eye seems so vacant. But if I look hard enough, I can catch a glimpse of the young boy who chased me through the gardens. “Can I see it. Your eye?” you rub your thumb against his cheek. Affection. Aemond bring his hand up to reach for yours, the one on the side of the maimed eye. “It is ugly. It might frighten a lady.” He hesitates. She will take one look at me in my hideous glory and never look my way again.

“Not to me. Especially when its you.” That sentence holds a lot more meaning and truth than what one might think and you only hope Aemond understands. And Aemond does what you ask of him. He gently removes his eyepatch waiting for you to let out a gasp. He wants to close his eyes for your inevitable disgusted expression but he cannot look away from you. He looks at every muscle you move on your face but he doesn’t see a grimace, instead could it be, is it awe?

A soft smile graces your face, wildly different from what he anticipated it to be. “The sapphire compliments your features nicely. I hope the gem isn’t uncomfortable?” He is dumbstruck for a minute. “No, it doesn’t, I always wanted to thank you in person for this gift.” When his eye healed, Aemond was surprised to find the city’s most famous jeweller with a chest full of his best gems waiting for him in his mother’s parlour. A reparation I suppose, the queen had said, the Velaryon girl wrote this letter saying how “sorry" she was for her brother’s action and expresses her regret for not being able to defend you against her brother. He wanted you to be there with him when he woke the next day, he remembered your crying face when the master said Aemond’s maimed eye can’t be repaired. It’s worth it y/n. I lost an eye but gained the biggest dragon that there is.

You resume rubbing your thumb gently over his scar and that’s what brings him back. “No man, no matter how noble he is, deserves you”. “Then who does my prince? Pray tell”, you say. You know his answer. Just say it Aemond. I beg you. “I have a duty to the crown Aemond”, dropping your hands from his face, you walk away from him. “And I will do it, even if I don’t wish to.”

Aemond was furious “How can you be so blind? Do you not see my pain?”. Your back was turned to him and you closed your eyes in frustration. You turn to look at him, with angry tears in your eyes, “I am tired of waiting for you!” you yell, “These past years have been agonising. It hurt not to be around you. But those letters kept me going. Our secret exchanges were what I kept looking forward to every week.” Aemond’s chest is just heaving. “And just when I thought that there’s a sliver of chance you feel the same-”

“I do.” Aemond interrupts you. He reaches forward to hold you but you back away. “Then why Aemond” there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “Thousands of lords and knights came to have my hand. And I rejected every single of them, hoping that you will present yourself in front of my parents and ask for me. You claim to have affection for me but I don’t see it.” You cut him off before he has a chance to explain.

“I’ll show my love for you” is all the silver haired prince says before tugging you to him harshly and planting his lips on yours. Its wild, full of passion and fury. The kiss seems to ignite something in you. Both your inner dragons coming to life and breathing out fire. He’s burning you with the force of the emotions the kiss conveys.

Although you feel breathless you still craved more of him. Your hand went at the base of his neck, tangling at his roots. You drag him even close if that’s possible. Aemond’s one hand is around your throat, controlling your movement, dominating you completely. His other strongly grips your waist keeping you in place. Your lips move together in perfect synchronisation although there seems to be a bite here and there.

The Targaryens are only gods because of their dragons. Right now, right here, were two young lord and lady lost in each other and were in dire need of air yet unwilling to be apart, fearing what comes next. You’re the first to break the kiss. The evidence of your passion is seen on Aemond’s swollen red wet lips and messy hair and you can only imagine yours to look the same.

Aemond leans his head against yours, your foreheads touching. His eyes are closed in pleasure and a rare smile graces his leeps but all you can do is admire him through your eyelashes. “Make me your wife” you call out softly. “Ask my mother for my hand. I do not wish to marry Jacaerys…he is too much of a brother. It is you I want. I’ll fight for you if needed be” Aemond opens his eyes at that. “Silly girl”, he says, “The Queen has asked the King for our match to be made.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “My mother agrees?” Aemond brings a hand to caress your face, “I think she does. Daemon on the other…” Even you become anxious at that statement. “My uncle is a challenge I welcome” he continues, “Nothing can keep me away from you. I’ve waited years for this, I can’t let go of you now.”

You can’t help but smile. You loved Aemond but marrying him meant going against what your mother had taught you. Knowing the distaste Daemon held for the members of green party, and thinking of your brothers’ action against Aemond made you feel immensely guilty. But you waited all these years, you were the exceptional daughter all this while, ever obedient, ever graceful. Never a hair out of place. Always the perfect princess. And if Aemond is the treason you commit against your family, then you will happily be guilty as sin.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

ELEKTRA NATCHIOS (MARVEL COMICS)

1.) Elektra was created by the misogynist himself, Frank Miller, who would write female characters like garbage including her. Throughout her entire existence within a majority of Daredevil comics, Elektra has been treated as a character made to be a trophy for Matt Murdock. Daredevil writers love making her life revolve around Matt in a way that its framed as romantic when the reality of their relationship should be framed as a tragedy due to their conflicting ideals (and in my honest opinion, I think she should start hating him).

Frank Miller’s Man Without Fear completely butchers Elektra’s character by changing her character to this “crazy woman with voices in her head who loves to kill anyone and anything” completely shitting on the original backstory of her being a sheltered rich girl who was very kind and sweet until her father’s death that shattered her hopes and dreams, leading her to become vengeful and turn into an assassin who believes that all she’s good at is killing and that she can’t ever live a happy normal life.

[…]

And of course thanks to the mcu, that influenced current Daredevil writer Chip Zdarsky, who ruins her character EVEN MORE by trying to follow up on the MWF backstory AND make it align with the mcu version as well to this spy that was sent by the Hand to purposely seduce Matt just like how mcu Stick did in the show. Zdarsky writes Elektra in a way that ruins her character completely and makes her infantalize/belittle Matt by calling him naive and foolish despite in previous incarnations where she UNDERSTANDS why Matt wouldn’t follow in her footsteps and wouldn’t kill and WOULD NEVER TRY TO CONVINCE HIM OTHERWISE (and Zdarsky made her fetishize Matt’s blindness in a way in which she would never do if she was in character). Zdarsky made her stop her ways JUST FOR MATT and then writes Matt to constantly disrespect her and call her a murderer despite in previous iterations where he WOULDN’T DO THAT AND ALSO UNDERSTANDS WHY SHE’S LIKE THIS WITHOUT CHANGING HER. (Zdarsky wrote everyone OOC in his run but the most who suffered from it is def Matt and Elektra). Then Zdarsky made Elektra become Daredevil which yeah, the suit is cool, but the implications of it sucks as Daredevil is not an identity that anyone can pick up on like Spider-Man. Daredevil is explicitly an identity that Matt took up bc of the injustice his father received after his murder along with the desire to protect the victims of the justice system. Elektra is a foil to Matt so her uprising as Elektra wouldn’t align with becoming Daredevil. How he framed it was essentially on par of a woman taking up the husband’s last name but so much worse. Elektra as Daredevil doesn’t work because it completely erases her identity as Elektra and further pushes the idea that she only exists to serve as Matt’s trophy, as his pain, as his wife, as his tragedy, etc etc.

Not a single male Daredevil writer should ever LOOK at Elektra ever again until they know how to write her because she has been done so dirty and receives misogyny on EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF HER EXISTENCE. There’s only been a few times where Elektra’s been done well and a lot of them had Matt be involved very little in it and it really makes you think.

2.) Both show and fandom perperativing the sexist and racist troupe of a dragon lady: overt sexual and physical aggression, untrustworthiness, and mysteriousness. The fandom is notorious for saying Elektra is toxic, instead of recognizes she’s an abuse victim working for her abuser. More often that not, all nuance is thrown out the window

(Comics and show) Killed for Matt’s(Daredevil’s) pain/fridged

3.) Constantly mischaracterized and used as a prop for Matt Murdock/Daredevil, especially in the case of his netflix series and his ongoing comics written by Chip Zdarksy (where she is so intensely out of character she’s almost unrecognizable, and in the case of the current Daredevil run parts of her origin story have even been heavily retconned to more closely resemble her Netflix counterpart which is. Oh my fucking god its infuriating.) But it’s an issue really like half the time she shows up in any given daredevil comic (im being generous)

ABBIE MILLS (SLEEPY HOLLOW) (CW: Racism)

1.) Abbie starts out as one of the two protagonists of the show, only to get almost entirely sidelined as early as season 2, getting less and less screen time and allowed no relationships, either platonic or romantic, while the other lead Ichabod Crane has a seemingly infinite amount of them. It got bad enough that her actor wanted to leave the show, which they did by having her sacrifice her soul in the season 3 finale for the male lead to live, and then they ended the show after season 4 anyway, because guess what, it’s a bad idea to entirely sideline and eventually kill off one of your leads!

2.) She was killed by the narrative to advance her white male co-protagonist’s plotline and I’m still mad about it, Abbie deserved so much better. This is an example of racism in the narrative too and it extended to the production of the show, see news coverage:

3.) Look, I only watched the first season but they killed her off the show SHE was a co lead of!! Misogyny AND racism, all rolled into one. I remember seeing the fan reactions and I was so mad on their behalfs. They wrote her off her own show and from what I recall, gave her less and less screentime leading up to that. Truly, she deserved so much better and I will always be upset by this.

[thescribeoflostmemories]

Didn't have anything to so but here's this.

made before Snezhnaya, and maybe ooc for any of the characters.

No beta read, tried to write it all out when it was still fresh. (Unedited)

Fatui agenda, (possible yandere?) Capitano x reader

The Witch, the Knight and the Dragon.

Shrouded in mystery, there lived a witch. Whose whole life in devoting her time to others. A noble cause, though not everyone pay too kindly to that notion.

"You're not my daughter!" He scorned.

"Deciever!" She cursed.

"Murderer!" They accused.

Focusing on your 'imperfections' instead of aiding, caused the fair maiden to flee from your kin to a solitary journey. Dreary is the woman with a siren voice.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

As if the world has heed your plea, a Knight has entered her tiny life. He had heard rumors of a monster that has luring people to their deaths, only to find a lovely ewe instead.

With only your haunting hum as guidance. There you were in a meadow of flowers where a tiny hut is on the horizon. No words were exchanged, only him merely watching you sing to yourself, dainty hands play around with the flowers that laid beside you.

You did does noticed him, those burning stares behind your back is all you needs to know. At first you thought it was a mitachurl that manage to find the place this time, you had learnt your lesson from the last people that has ventured into your abode. Nothing but trouble if one were to interact, with just the voice you could might as well be a murderer if one were to count all who heard the soul-stirring voice.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

This continued on until the knight has left the area, where you can finally go home. Then the next day... So on and so forth.

During one of the nearly daily visits. You weren't there, instead a wreath that was made was placed there for him to have.

To have him as company, for you thought it would be rude to not thank him. Soon those wreaths turned into pressed flowers, then a tiny acorn trinket accompanied by a feather as a good luck charm.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"Honestly." sighing, your back still facing him, currently in hand is another set of wreath for him.

"I thought you would leave if I just stayed quiet... But, thank you.. Really, just having another person with me means alot. Please sit down here with me. " Patting the ground next to you, beckoning him.

It took a moment of silence before the metallic clinks of metal grew closer to sat down on the patch of land.

"Maybe tomorrow I'll set up some chairs for the both of us... What kind of refreshments do you want, something cold?" (H/c) woman had assumed of his preference since it is a sunny day. Going by the heavy clothes he's wearing, he lives deep within the crevices of Teyvat that the sun would never dream of reaching with it are the fearsome hails that rained down on her people.

A sad and forlorn look appeared, knowing you would have to say goodbye at one point before parting. Or even worse, without even a farewell. Loneliness grew within, only to be snapped out of your thoughts. "Which ever you have." He replied. It made you smile a bit, "then cold mint tea it is."

"It's more nicer to talk to you like this." Your voice seemed a little rough, like it's your first time talking.

The knight in armor nodded, though. It does frighten you to actually see him right now. That his image towers over your own , if he wanted. He could just grab you and the whole body would just snap like a thin glass.

"Apologies that there isn't much to do in this place." Still, you have to maintain a level of composure just like what you practiced all those years ago.

"It doesn't need to... But how will you defend yourself against the monsters that roam aimlessly? " He asked, curious since if the rumors were to be true. Then he might take action.

"A lady has her ways." The maiden replied, not wanting to spill. Earning a huff, not sure if it is an exaperate one or amusement.

With a long silence between them, the man stood up. "Leaving so soon?" Sorrow can be heard from your voice.

"Do not worry, I will come back. Your name?" He looked back after he had stop and gotten a few feet away from your spot.

"_____. Yours?" Curious since there is no mention of a last name.

"it isn't important. Get home, the sun will set soon." He started to walk away.

______ wanted to stop him and ask him to stay longer, but the fear of rejection is stronger than the swelling words stuck in your throat. (e/c) eyes only looked at his slowly disappearing form.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"Sir Capitano, here are the files you have requested." A fatui agent bowed and handed over the documents that contained information about a certain flower lady.

The agent would question, but even they don't have the luxury of questioning their orders. Least they want the receiving end of the horrendous things Capitano would have done to them.

Capitano wave his hand and the agent went away. It has been at least two weeks since their first meeting, its maddening as he try to wreck his mind for answers that'll satisfy his own questions.

Dark thoughts seeped in, as that woman doesn't seem to be tainted by the cruel world. maybe perhaps he could have asked the Tsaritsa to let him have a little ewe under his care.

A knock breaks his train of thoughts, "enter." Another agent entered and bowed.

"Sir, the Tsaritsa calls all Harbingers to mourn La Signora's passing from the Shogun's execution." Short, concise, like he trained them to do.

"The departure would be by this dawn, Sir." The room suddenly felt suffocating the moment that phrase left the agent's mouth.

"I-it was an order from Lord Harbinger Pulcinella." They added, hastily.

"Very well, you may leave." They left, it took alot to not slam his fist upon the desk and throwing his chair in the process. He's a professional, a Harbinger! Not some child.

Looking at the clock in the room, it is rather late. Letting out a deep sigh before getting up to leave.

He had informed a maid to pass the message that their departure is scheduled.

Capitano followed the trail he usually takes, though what he didn't expect is the ruffians that dared to eye his ewe's home.

Normally, he doesn't want to waste his time on those beneath him. But in this case.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Voila, _____. Sweeping the floors for the night. For the last couple of weeks, you had been in high spirits as of late. Humming out a tune while working.

"Sing sweet, nightingale..." Your angelic voice can be heard from outside. Unbeknownst to you of the screams of terror in the distance. Truly in your own wonderland once given the chance to open her candied mouth.

Soon (body shape) body started to move along with the song. Twirling, prancing until noticing Capitano by the window. Dropping the broom and went over to open the door.

"it- it's dark outside, please come in." with a voice cracked, there was an odd metallic smell to him. "Sorry, let me get you something to drink. " Led him to a makeshift sofa, considering the chairs here are too thin before leaving to the kitchenette.

Capitano took his chance to survey his surroundings. The mattress is in the living room, a couple of drawers, basket. From the empty frames down to the speck of dust on the window sill, he had taken note of everything.

"It isn't much." ____ had come back with some bread and cheese, and a glass of water. Hardly filling for a woman like you. Almost making Capitano to abandon the original plan and take the little ewe with him instead. But no, he must be patient.

"I came here without notice, I was only worried." A smile appeared on your face when he replied, setting down the plate and glass on the table.

"I'm glad an ordinary girl like me makes your worry." Trying to joke but didn't get a reply from him.

Awkward silence comes back in, only the crackling of the hearth and candle illuminated their vision. Which makes it even more breathtaking for him to just look at you and enjoy their company. Not before noticing the time, he has to leave.

"I'm sorry to take anymore of your time but, ____. I'll be leaving. " He stood up, leaving as fast as he were coming here this late at night.

"where are you going..?" Your voice trembled to ask, but he didn't reply. ____ didn't know if it was out of fear being left behind again or what, all you knew that you're out of the house "I'll be here." Proclaimed as you were trying to run after him. "I'll be waiting for you here, so please. Come and find me!" Tiny legs tripped over, like a desperate cry.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

262 days, that was the last he has seen her. It was only until recently he could see the woman of his dreams. He had sent an agent to watch over his little ewe in his stead. So far the reports consist, cleaning the house, eat, foraging and ending with a pass time on the bed of flowers.

"woah- ohhooo! Capitanoooo!" Beamed a certain ginger haired boy running after him. The armored Harbinger turned around, if he weren't so scary. Childe would have laughed instead.

"You're free right now, right?" If Childe were to have a tail, it'll be wagging non stop.

"Talk to Pulcinella instead." Capitano huffs, he has no time for this. Everything must be perfect when he set his sights on his previous post. He had local literature, and some composition papers for the dearly beloved pet in hand. Of course, he would gift your own coat once with the agreement to come with him.

He was about to smile from the inside of his helmet until Childe tried to drop kick the battle war lord. Countering it with a swift swat with his backhand. Making the battle lusted man outside on the ground.

"Do not test me Childe." Capitano scolded before leaving.

"p'tooy!" Childe spat out some of the dirt that got in his mouth.

"Well, did you get anything from him?" Sandrone, still being carried by her machine asked him.

"What do you think?" He groaned as he stood up.

"We'll find out soon what he's hiding.." her faint voice seems like she's up to something.

"Wonder what happened." Childe wondered as he rubbed his back, looking at where Capitano gone to.

"Maybe a little prospect of him finding something worth his time?" The Regrator suggested behind them, with eyes closed followed by an eerie smile.

"You mean, like someone stronger than me..?" Childe asked curiously.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

'Not a single letter from him, would a carrier even know how to find this place?'

Another annoyed sigh escaped from _____'s lips. laying down on the plot of flowers, with a book in hand. Something that had been read time... And time again.

'The Thrilling tales of Dragon slayers. ' it was the only thing you could find that could satiate social needs. Only opening it halfway before placing it on your (bust size) chest. (E/c) eyes stared up at the sky.

Had wish for freedom like the birds or anyone with an anemo vision. Yearning for something to do with your own life...

Not even Celestia, could grant you the most simplest thing you wanted. Then again, it is probably too much to begin with.

Lately, you could have sworn someone was looking at you. Especially during laundry, thinking the mysterious knight came back. Only to realize, no one's there.

Saddened, you've been thrown back in your own old ways. Knowing it's your own selfish wish, had you gone mad? Surely you are, in your own opinion. Tears fell down your (complexion) face, eyes closed until slipped into slumber with the bright sun shining down her.

Unbeknownst to you, a single amber had place upon the wood of your home. Waking up to a nightmare. The burning scent of your tiny lodge, fire started to spread from it. Unlike last time you were confronted with a problem, you didn't run away. The solemn promise had made with your admirer beckoned you to grab a bucket of water from a near by stream to put a halt to the raging inferno.

"Over here!"

"who-?" Surprised when another person was willing to help.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Capitano didn't expect that it would be this late the moment they set foot on land. Heavy crunches of leaves crinkled under his steps. He couldn't wait to see his beloved ewe, that is until the waft of burnt wood entered his sense.

He picks up the pace, he couldn't hear that lovely voice that would always call out to him.

At the meadow, is nothing but ash. "____!" He called out, going closer. The dust only trailed behind him as him running disturbs them.

"Sir!" A Fatui agent yelled to get his attention. Over the yonder, where the fire seem to stop by the river. A cryo maiden had been keeping _____ company, who seemed to cry herself to sleep. The mop of (h/c) laid on the cryo woman's lap, some soot manage to got onto your face.

"she had insisted to stay here and wait for you, Sir Capitano." Call it sense of pride that it welled up in Capitano's chest. Delighted that his little ewe want his presence.

"Let us get her back at the residency... And make sure to file a report on this matter." Scooping up the frail woman, he realized. You're much lighter than he originally thought.

"Understood, sir!" The cryo stood up and dusted herself off.

It was a long walk until the Fatui base, they weren't scheduled to leave until the 7th moon had risen. Capitano isn't going to lie, but the peaceful look upon his ewe's face is sweet as lace. But in a case like this, you would need a lot of space.

Finding it undeniably adorable of her when your arms wrapped around him once he tried to set you down on his bed. "Warm..." Mumbling in sleep, ironically. There's nothing warm on his metallic armor, unless you count the heavy coat that was meant for heavy winter.

Capitano didn't have a choice but to join the ewe in slumber. The bed creaked at the weight of another person joining in. Soon time had the smaller woman cuddle up close to him. So close that your face is agaisnt his broad chest, hand too. Like a lover would.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~• Finally awaken, surrounded by unfamiliar things, even the room is thrice as big as your own home. No one but you on the bed. A knock sounded, "excuse my intrusion." A person entered, it was a maid with a trolley. Quietly they placed a warm meal on the table.

"please enjoy, miss _____. Master Capitano is expecting you soon. Do you have a preferred outfit?" The maid asked.

"I-I'm fine with my clothes. Where am I?" Now sitting down despite what happened, the flower lady needs answers.

"you're in Capitano's chambers, a temporary residency for the Fatui." Fatui, you had heard rumors of them before. None of them were as noble than the one from last night's incident.

"I ... I see.." the (h/c) woman sighed a bit.

"No need to feel so sadden, my lady. Sir Capitano would be pleased to see you awaken." The maid's face seem to smile, yet there's a bit of fright in them.

"I-I'm sure.." looking down at the tray, this this surely more than what she usually eat..

"who is Lord Capitano?" A question left your mouth, like a ghost, the maid is gone. Presumably went to fetch some beverage. It felt like an eternity when the meal given to you was finished. Swiftly, there's already a set of clothes for you to wear. You swear that maid is like a ninja or something from Inazuma.

After a quick bath, with a help of a maid to get there. You insisted on bathing yourself, the water felt nice on your skin. That quickly followed to dressing yourself up, it was a thin white dress. The material is soft almost cotton like.

Looking at yourself on the mirror, not being able to recognize yourself. Just a woman with white apparel that could easily be affiliated with religious people, the design is simple. But even that could cost you, your house for it.

Before you could talk to the maid about who is Capitano, the same knight from months ago entered.

"I assumed there is no problems?" He asked, the maid stepped away from you and bowed to him.

"none at all Sir." "Dismissed." With one word, out of the door she goes.

"Are you feeling better, ewe?" He asked after the silence between you two, tilting your head at the pet name.

"yes, a little bit.." Fiddling your hands out of nervousness. Didn't expect him to come back even though you did told him you'll be there, even if your home went up to flames.

"I-I'm sorry to meet you like this. I would have some dried fruits and iced mint tea to offer to you as payment..." Tears started to fell, as you didn't know what caused your home. No one but him has discovered the secret haven. Tears started to fell as the people that painted her as a witch, showed only a lamb to be pushed for needless slaughter.

"no need... Little ewe, for now on. You're coming with me." You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"what?" He huffs, "unless you want to go back to that broken home. It is best to be under me, where I can keep an eye on you." Answering you.

"What if I'll get in the way? What would you do if because of me people..." Tears fell down more. As if the man before you didn't commit any atrocious deeds to obtain your information.

"I'm not called a Captain without a reason. Rest assured, little ewe." He gotten near, an arm around your body to 'comfort' you.

Oh little Ewe, even when the Gods above tries to separate you with your Dragon. It only strength his dark resolve for their own arrogance to do the will of the Tsaritsa and have you by his side as one of her people to shepherd. Afterall, what is a bewitching witch without her knight to protect her?

Just realized half way through, that the story kinda resembles La Signora's backstory... Should I even dare to replace her as temporary Harbinger? Or maybe even a pretender to make her seem more .. fit? Idk.

I'm sorry that the pronouns and the you's are all mixed up. I couldn't decide on which pov.

Thinking of either having Pantalone or Childe fics next. Do you guys want Arlecchino and Columbina in here as well? It is a first time for me to write a lesbian fic, but I didn't want to ruin the fun with my incredibly lacking experience.

Criticism is welcomed since this is a first fic and i wanted to get use to it so I can improve..

(genshin requests are available)

[dark-roleplay-finder]

{🥀🕊️} tldr about me; 24f she/her, novella multi-page writer, fantasy / zombie apocalypse / historical fiction, mxm & mxf and doubles-friendly, nsfw and dead dove friendly but will discuss limits and triggers, eastern time zone, plotting and worldbuilding heavy, discord pinterest and spotify are my best friends!

tldr looking for; heavily literate 18+ long-term rp partner, a lover of fantasy (fae, demons, dragons, chosen ones and dark lords, etc) or open to supernatural historical fiction or dark zombie-centric apocalyptic threads. replies preferably at minimum once a week, and please no ghosting–i am very understanding of real life and burnout so if we need breaks thats okay! discord + pinterest friendly, and must vibe ooc! romance is required, as well as being okay with lgbtq+ characters, dark themes, and nsfw content.

read below for more details if this sounds like your cup of tea~

hi friends, i’m 24f she/her, looking for someone similar in age (18+ required, absolutely no minors, preferably 20+) who loves fantasy, monsters, romance, and loooong lengthy replies. i’ve been writing for the past 15+ years with dreams of one day being published, and have been roleplaying for the past 10+ years, though i’ve been on an extended hiatus. i’m recently quit my job (living in EST) so my schedule is pretty open to start writing together! Even though i have a lot of new free time, i do have a partner and responsibilities, and am also aware of burnout, real life, and mental health so never be afraid to pull the breaks for a few days, weeks, or months if we need to but please communicate that. i almost exclusively write medieval high fantasy, but also enjoy historical fiction (absolutely nothing modern ie. 1930's onward) and lately have been into zombie apocalypses as i’m rewatching twd. i only work with originals, ocxoc, but am open to playing with a canon universe as long as we make it our own! i’m mainly looking for mxm and mxf romance since that’s what i have the most experience with, but i am lgbtq+ friendly. i prefer a partner who is open to writing a wide range of characters, not just female ocs or “submissive” types, just to ensure we keep the threads fresh for both of us. i’m more than happy to double and work on multiple threads as well. i like a heavy emphasis on troubled characters with real flaws, trauma, and their subsequent development, exploring interesting relationship dynamics both healthy and toxic, and extensive worldbuilding + magic systems. customized discord servers, fanart, headcanons, drawn maps of our worlds, couples playlists, pinterest boards–you name it, i love it and am here for it.

concepts in mind; while i don’t have any set plots, characters, or worlds (i generally enjoy figuring this out organically with my partner) there are some things that i like to write and cliches i love to see. Anything with fae, monsters, demons and witches, interesting takes on vampires + werewolves, i’m here for! i love fairytale retellings and mythology, and playing with religious motifs and inspiration (think paradise lost). themes of rebellion, war-torn kingdoms, corrupt monarchies, prophecies, racing against the clock to defeat eldritch world-ending monsters, dark overlords, magic always has a price, everyone is living on borrowed time just to name a few. when it comes to romance tropes, you can never go wrong with enemies to lovers, soulmates, forbidden romance, arranged/forced marriage, hidden identity, the hero falls for the villain. i foam at the mouth for soft ocs that snap and go feral, not a god’s chosen but a god’s cursed, the found family out of a band of ragtag misfits, complex villains who are actual people, i could literally go on for hours.

other tidbits; i don’t write canon characters or with fandoms, but i do enjoy my fair share of shows, books, and video games! i'm open to taking inspiration from any of them, so i’ll list a few if it helps give a better idea of what i’m into and possible interests we might share–

shows/movies: game of thrones + house of the dragon, outlander, the walking dead, pride and prejudice, stranger things, lotr, twilight

books: a court of thorns and roses + throne of glass, six of crows + shadow and bone, the night circus, and many more

games: animal crossing, legend of zelda, the sims, dragon age, stardew valley, the last of us

contact; if you are interested in any of this, like this post and i'll message you or comment with your discord username and i'll add you

Like this post and the asker will reach out!

[findyourrp]

{🥀🕊️} tldr about me; 24f she/her, novella multi-page writer, fantasy / zombie apocalypse / historical fiction, mxm & mxf and doubles-friendly, nsfw and dead dove friendly but will discuss limits and triggers, eastern time zone, plotting and worldbuilding heavy, discord pinterest and spotify are my best friends.

tldr looking for; heavily literate 18+ long-term rp partner, a lover of fantasy (fae, demons, dragons, chosen ones and dark lords, etc) or open to supernatural historical fiction or dark zombie-centric apocalyptic threads. replies preferably at minimum once a week, and please no ghosting–i am very understanding of real life and burnout so if we need breaks thats okay! discord + pinterest friendly, and must vibe ooc! romance is required, as well as being okay with lgbtq+ characters, dark themes, and nsfw content.

read below for more details if this sounds like your cup of tea~

hi friends, i’m 24f she/her, looking for someone similar in age (18+ required, absolutely no minors, preferably 20+) who loves fantasy, monsters, romance, and loooong lengthy replies. i’ve been writing for the past 15+ years with dreams of one day being published, and have been roleplaying for the past 10+ years, though i’ve been on an extended hiatus. i’m recently quit my job (living in EST) so my schedule is pretty open to start writing together! Even though i have a lot of new free time, i do have a partner and responsibilities, and am also aware of burnout, real life, and mental health so never be afraid to pull the breaks for a few days, weeks, or months if we need to but please communicate that. i almost exclusively write medieval high fantasy, but also enjoy historical fiction (absolutely nothing modern ie. 1930's onward) and lately have been into zombie apocalypses as i’m rewatching twd. i only work with originals, ocxoc, but am open to playing with a canon universe as long as we make it our own! i’m mainly looking for mxm and mxf romance since that’s what i have the most experience with, but i am lgbtq+ friendly. i prefer a partner who is open to writing a wide range of characters, not just female ocs or “submissive” types, just to ensure we keep the threads fresh for both of us. i’m more than happy to double and work on multiple threads as well. i like a heavy emphasis on troubled characters with real flaws, trauma, and their subsequent development, exploring interesting relationship dynamics both healthy and toxic, and extensive worldbuilding + magic systems. customized discord servers, fanart, headcanons, drawn maps of our worlds, couples playlists, pinterest boards–you name it, i love it and am here for it.

concepts in mind; while i don’t have any set plots, characters, or worlds (i generally enjoy figuring this out organically with my partner) there are some things that i like to write and cliches i love to see. Anything with fae, monsters, demons and witches, interesting takes on vampires + werewolves, i’m here for! i love fairytale retellings and mythology, and playing with religious motifs and inspiration (think paradise lost). themes of rebellion, war-torn kingdoms, corrupt monarchies, prophecies, racing against the clock to defeat eldritch world-ending monsters, dark overlords, magic always has a price, everyone is living on borrowed time just to name a few. when it comes to romance tropes, you can never go wrong with enemies to lovers, soulmates, forbidden romance, arranged/forced marriage, hidden identity, the hero falls for the villain. i foam at the mouth for soft ocs that snap and go feral, not a god’s chosen but a god’s cursed, the found family out of a band of ragtag misfits, complex villains who are actual people, i could literally go on for hours.

other tidbits; i do not write canon characters or with fandoms, but i do enjoy my fair share of shows, books, and video games! i'm open to taking inspiration from any of them, so i’ll list a few if it helps give a better idea of what i’m into and possible interests we might share–

shows/movies: game of thrones + house of the dragon, outlander, the walking dead, pride and prejudice, stranger things, lotr, twilight

books: a court of thorns and roses + throne of glass, six of crows + shadow and bone, the night circus, and many more

games: animal crossing, legend of zelda, the sims, dragon age, stardew valley, the last of us

contact; if you are interested in any of this, like this post and i'll message you or comment with your discord username and i'll add you

.

[sentofight]

ooc. quick sum up of my ocs down below!

Einar Vilho | F/inal Fantasy type 0

Captain in the Militese army--the White Tiger, Byakko. He is not on board with the whole war idea but he can't defect because his uncle's life on the line. He is a cat enthusiastic. Due to a past mistake, he lost his right arm and was given a magitek arm instead. Only army personals know of this. He is stoic and pragmatic.

Roland of Ylisse | F/ire Emblem: A/wakening

Pessimistic and does not trust people easily, the complete opposite of his father, Chrom and older sister, Lucina. Roland is the son of Ylisse's Exalt an the village maiden (Daughter of loyal village chieftain.) Roland prefers the company of animals and plants than people since neither of the two will plot to kill him. He got acute sense of hearing thus makes him less happy about crowded places. He is germaphobe which makes it even harder to communicate with him. His present counterpart does not have all the negative traits of him because he was not exposed to a big ass dragon.

Thomas of Ylisse | F/ire Emblem: A/wakening

Chrom and Rebecca's son child, and only boy. He is the i-do-whatever-i-want kid. Thomas takes a lot from his aunt Lissa meaning he is fan of pranks and causing chaos. Though he holds deep resentment to the Ylissean council for the treatment his mother had to go through when she became a Queen. Especially when she was accused of cheating on Chrom since Thomas leans more in look to her biological parents than Chrom. He is one of the future children that came with Lucina. His present counterpart is mostly similar to him but he is less chaotic and more of mama's boy.

Maria of Ylisse | F/ire Emblem: A/wakening

The third child of Chrom and Rebecca, and the second daughter. Maria suffered the most in term of personality development. She was forced to see destruction as soon as she opened her eyes to the world. Maria grew up without knowing a lot about her parents, only through Lucina and Thomas' stories--as well from S.T.A.R. It took Maria a lot of courage to break from her shell--relying on both Lucina and Thomas for everything. Her present counterpart does not have Maria's stuttering and low self-esteem problems.

Chloe of Ylisse | F/ire Emblem: A/wakening

Fourth child of Chrom and Rebecca, and the third daughter. Chloe is not one of the future children but was born in the saved present. Because of that, she lacks some empathy and well, sense of human life than the future children. She can be arrogant at times that is due to be spoiled by her parents, mostly Chrom. She loves fashion and her role model is Maribelle. Despite all that, she is still good kid in heart. Plus, her grandfather does a good job at keeping her checked.

Rahma Samer // Amina | F/ire Emblem: A/wakening

A woman who devoted her life to practice medicine got strayed by her own ambitions and dreams at the cost of people's lives. She had to run away during the war between Ylisse and Plegia and lay low in Valm, Cho'sin. She had to change her identity in order to come back to Plegia. The ex mad doctor now refuses to practice medicine and hopes to atone for her sins somehow. The years passes by and she only grow fearful of being found out. Perhaps when she is about to die she will reveal her secret ...

Feiruz | H/arvest Moon // S/tory of Seasons

A beginner farmer who wants to make something of herself, and stop relying on her family. More like come out of the shadow of her sisters and do something she likes. Plus, her family already raises animals so it was not hard to branch a little bit and work on a farm on her own. She is a sweet sunshine who is loud to compensate feeling ignored. Please be gentle with her.

Sohrab Errol | Original lore / established originally as FE:A oc

A young man who likes alchemy. He is a good at it because he keeps practicing and trying every possible idea that comes to his mind. His latest was to infuse the minerals into his body in order to create items/weapons at free will. That worked out but at the cost of poisoning himself every now and then. He is quiet and reserved because he likes to observe and listen more than participate in conversations. Animals hate him for the smell he emits because of the minerals he house inside of his body which is a running gag that he found himself in unfavorable situations because of that. He is from Horiyah (mermaid) Kingdom which is shrouded with extremely disturbing past.

Jokull | Original Lore

Half human, half yuki-ona(snow woman/spirit) who lives in Ardam kingdom in Brightwood village. Jokull inherits some of his mother's race traits--the ability to control ice. However, being half came at a cost. Jokull is 24/7 cold and even to the people around him. He has to wear lots of layers and human touch hurts him, as it hurts them. That is why he became a little bit reclusive until he started working in the black smithy and got to come out of his shell somewhat. Still, he is awkward at times. His wish is to be able to feel things and people without hurting them.

Ren Amamiya | God Eater

My take on Lindow Amamiya and Sakuya Tachibana's kid. Born to the best duo in the Den, Ren inherited the corrupted Aragami cells from his father whether he likes it or not. He became a god eater at the age of 16 during the 3rd game timeline. He works between Fenrir and Port H.O.P.E. in order to save as many people he can. He crushes so hard on Licca. He likes to troll and manipulate people for fun not for bad intentions. Most of his victims are his surrogate sister Setsuna (@/kinships), Kota, his father, Teru, Haru, but never his mother, Licca, his aunt Tsubaki and ofc his idol Soma.

now i got sneep. love my children mwah~ <3

[incarnateirony]

Really been sitting here reviewing WHY Zenthus is almost a quarter century old IRL. The first few years like 1999-2001 was just scrap ideas from a tweenager, before Szurane proper was made. Other characters from that era didn't survive and instead fell into his shadow where they cameo THROUGH him.

2001-2007 was his original true campaign group that started with him in party, and went all the way into watching his dark rise, stopping some things, failing others. They were the people that knew his origins which are actually critical in both portraying him and defeating him, but it always ended up having to be condensed down to "he's possessed by negativity, break the stick" tiredly and people still failing to be smart to approach him about even that.

A few times he was just called TO be a final nigh unbeatable threat in friends TTRPGs, and thats fine, I mean it means I left my mark beyond an anime nobody remembers and a poster nobody else has,. Then Silmataurea, that first breakup with shea, and the period I developed Kion and the concept behind it.

But every time Kion was sent somewhere people paid even less attention to HIS nuances. Oh, you mean the 12 year old trained in weird ways thrown into a world full of war is sculpted by that war when people let him do whatever the fuck he wants not realizing he's just a kid? Tell me fucking more. So then Kion gets stuck in his own cycle of this shit, even narratively by someone else's application of his stuff, so great, now they're both in the spin cycle.

But then when I started building my own campaigns I realized if I literally removed them from fuckaround political elements Kion trashed people in every time and made them focus on existential threats within chaos itself, and forced them to *explore him literally*, as a body of memory, people would either fucking learn what they needed to do or die, and at least my shit would stop getting reduced to absurdity for people who can't be arsed, just to die dumb deaths anyway.

but Noiz actually came in giving a shit. Noiz wanted to change things. Noiz recognized the complexity and tried to find all the parts under a stopwatch, and has taken leadership IC and OOC both to keep people on track, to knock down Zen's pillars to make him accessible, to pay attention to his cues and riddles and phrases to understand what the FUCK is actually happening without me having to fucking handhold them or soften the blow to a whiny wife that wants shortcut romance 1v1. So even after several of these setups failed because people just be like that, here comes Noiz.

And it's truly funny how much of him held on. In 2004 the heroes made it to the crown prince Zenthus, formerly their friend Zento, only to be thrown into a chaotic chess-like game as their first challenge, which traced back to his history and so on. WHY he got so fucked up. Trying to end the wars and end the conflict by getting people to agree to a little game, and that heresy didn't stand. And now here we are 20 years later still moving chess pieces, dealing cards, flicking pebbles and rolling dice even in cosmic combat, all while reaching in to the source of discord in everyone--- who are you, what do you want, what do you fear, what are your dreams, let me be the one to take it away.

And deep down he truly is my bard-priest still. Backwards jigging to his own discordant tune while slapping them in the face with living metaphor, all trying to let fate actually decide itself while fighting to return to the one, whether he took creation with him to the void or not. And the choices he made to be replaced, without anger if done correctly, to keep the cosmic function he got tied to flowing, because yeah, there's still that old dragon that just wanted to play a game and now he's just cosmically haunting the void, he still wants to play a little game and a little song, my friends.

Anyway it's been interesting to think of and I've truly enjoyed writing him again.

[toashcs-blog]

what   get’s  me  is  Dany  &  Joff  are  basically  the  same  age  .      she’s  a  year  older  than  him  &  yet  we  treat  Dany  as  a  woman  who  should  know  wtf  she’s  doing  &  Joff  as  some  abused  child  who  get’s  to  act  out  because  he’s  young  &  oh  my  ,      someone  gave  him  too  much  power  &  how’s  he  supposed  to  handle  that  ?      yet  he  has  far  more  advisers  &  far  less  true  power  than  Dany  .      which  ,      for  the  record  ,      is  fair  .      i  think  it  just  says  a  lot  about  how  quickly  we  expect  girls  to  grow  up  but  boys  can  be  children  for  far  longer  .

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Mr. Sandman (Chapter 10)

Summary: Felicity Burgess, the adopted daughter of Alex Burgess and Paul McGuire lived a sheltered life from the dark secret that lay beneath her feet. But what happens when that secret is now her's to keep? Will her love for her family keep her from doing the right thing or will Mr. Sandman bring her a dream worth sacrificing everything?

Chapter Triggers: Slight fluff, maybe slight OOC? I dunno!

“I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?” -John Lennon

Click here for Chapter 9

Wonderland's Workshop

The water felt delightful against her skin. How long had it been since she'd indulged in something so simple as a shower? Well, time did move differently between worlds so she didn't even have the compacity to figure it out; like shooting into a dark room for answers. She wanted to stay here forever but of course, she could not. She had a friend waiting beyond the bathroom door for her and the answers that she seeks from him. So, with a regrettable hand, she turned off the shower head and pulled back the curtain realizing the steam of the bathroom made everything so foggy; a nice sort of sauna effect as she stepped out onto the old bath mat and grabbed one of the towels hanging off the door hook to wrap around her. 

She faced the mirror and wiped her palm against the cold glass to look at her reflection. She looked a bit better; perhaps in need of some sleep but otherwise, she looked like she was just any ordinary girl. But she wasn't normal, there wasn't anything normal about her or her life anymore. 

When she opened the door the steam from the bathroom nearly audibly hissed when the cold air greeted it and Felicity peered around the room taking a moment to look around since she'd sort of been quickly escorted into the shower when they'd arrived. The room was rather meticulous and pristine; as if no one truly touched this space even Corinthian which would make sense since he was not human, he didn't need sleep or food as mortals would. She wondered why he even rented the large studio apartment if he barely lived here. 

"Feeling better?" her head twisted to see the blonde man leaning against the open door frame of his bedroom; nursing a tumbler glass filled with an amber liquid. 

She squeaked and clutched the towel to her chest giving him a 'what the fuck?' look. "Turn around! Don't you have some sort of decency Corinthian!" she rushed out 

The blonde only grin and tilted his head as he raised his glass to his lips. "Aint nothing I haven't seen before honeybee, but if it makes you feel more comfortable." he drawled lazily turning himself around so that he was facing the hallway 

"I threw your clothes in the washer and drier for yah. You can pick something out of my drawers if yah like," he added 

Breathing a sigh of relief now that he wasn't staring at her Felicity padded over the soft carpet to a single dresser where she began opening and closing drawers to look at the clothing inside. 

"Sheesh Inthy, do you ever wear anything that doesn't make you look like candyman?" she teased seeing brown, tan, and green shirts "I half expected to find some pinstriped stuff in here," she added as she picked out one of his long-sleeved brown sweaters and tugged it over her head; it was long enough to go mid-thigh so she kept some sort of modesty from that at the least. 

"Aw, you hurt my feelings darlin'. I'm a simple man who enjoys some sort of comfort yah know!" Corinthian tilted his head over his shoulder to check to see if she was dressed. 

"You certainly aren't the little girl in your dreams that I'm used to. Since when did you grow a pair of legs like those?" Felicity felt the heat rise to her face as she tugged the shirt down further and glared at him. 

"Stop it!" she chided. "Aren't you supposed to be gay?" she added giving him a pointed look.

A toothy grin was her only answer before she turned away to rummage for a pair of pants. She found white sweatpants so she quickly tugged them up her legs covering more of her modesty before she turned to the man. 

"You know, it's been a very long time since you called me Inthy," he commented as he swirled his amber liquid in his glass watching her from behind his glasses. 

She shrugged with a sheepish smile that hid some sadness behind it as she slowly sat on the edge of his bed. "I'm not a little girl anymore Corinthian. The lenses that I wore have been ripped off my face long ago." she heaved a sigh and rubbed her face.

There was a pause between them; an oddly comforting silence before the man set his glass down on the edge of the nightstand in favor of walking over to her and sitting beside her on the edge of his bed. 

"No, I suppose yah ain't a kid no more honeybee. You've grown up into a fine young woman who hopefully has made something of her life," he said staring out the colorful glass window across the room. 

"Hardly. But it's mine...did you hear Alex died?" she turned her head to look over at the blonde who nodded slowly 

"I did. Not much gets past me nowadays."

"Yeah, I would imagine so if you're going around killing boys and running from your creator." the redhead quipped with pursed lips. 

Corinthian stilled beside her before his face slowly grew back that damned smile. "How'd you figure that one out?" he drawled a careful tone in his voice. 

She laughed, the kind of laugh that spoke of experiencing much of the unknown. "Nearly a year ago I would have told you that you were crazy and probably have called the cops on you; which you'd probably have killed me before I could. But then again, The sandman is real. Talking ravens exist, realms not of our own are somewhere beyond the veil and my best friend growing up who I thought was imaginary is a Nightmare created by the Dream King himself." she tilted her head giving him a small smile. 

"Trust me Corinthian. It's not a surprise to me anymore. My old roommate and friend is an exorcist and I grew up with the sandman in my basement. I shouldn't be surprised you go around killing guys around town and plucking their eyeballs out. Why I don't know. But there's one thing that I do know." 

the girl shifted to sit cross-legged next to him and her hands reached up toward his face and his own large hands shot up to grab her wrists to stop her movement. Instead, she rested them on his cheeks and smiled at him softly. 

"Your beauty," she said softly "Never scared me Corinthian." she stroked right below the dark glasses with her thumbs "You were the only friend I had, imaginary or not. Am I disappointed that you go around killing humanity, yes? But that is who you are. That is what Morpheus created you for. Without nightmares, there cannot be dreams, and vice versa. So you are important even if you think you are a monster." she told him firmly 

he snorted and leaned back on his palms. "So you know Morpheus hmm? Been playing hooky with the Dream lord now have yah?" 

She punched him in the arm. "He was stuck in my basement until I helped free him and then he found me months later with my friend Johanna searching for his sand. Sort of dragged me along with him in that endeavor." she defended falling onto her back with legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

"Oh so you're the one I should thank for having to run for my life." there was a small amount of spite in his voice as his tight-lipped smile leaned over her. 

She squinted looking up at him and staring at her reflection in his dark shades. "You did that on your own when you chose to go rogue mister. Lucienne told me everything. Partly why Morpheus didn't return sooner."

"You worship the man!" her gawked and reached out to smack his arm again but he caught her hand 

"I do not! Don't be ridiculous! It's just circumstances that drew us together you know?" she shrugged watching as the nightmare played with her fingers. 

"Hey, Corinthian. Can I ask you something?" she asked watching him

"Hmm?" he hummed; head rolling lazily on his shoulders as he turned to look at her. 

"When you first appeared in my dreams as a little girl. Were you planning on killing me?" the question hung heavy between them 

"That was the plan." he finally replied "But I couldn't kill yah after I saw them purdy green eyes of yours." he reached out to stroke along her brows.

"But isn't that your thing? Eyes." she teased

"Not yours, honeybee. Something about yours made me not want to see them close; ever."

A warm smile graced her features as she reached up to grab his hand in her own and press it against her cheek; nuzzling into his palm like a kitten. 

"So, we are still friends then? You aren't going to kill me for whatever reason now that I'm not a cute little girl who pulls at your heartstrings?" Felicity said teasingly but secretly she wanted to know

She and Corinthian were not the same in many ways and she no longer held the innocence of a little girl. So whatever kept the nightmare from killing her every night he visited her in her dreams may not apply to her now that she was an adult. Corinthian studied her for a long moment with a contemplative look on his face before he shifted his palm on her face to boop her nose with a finger while never breaking contact. 

"No darlin', I don't believe I'd have the heart to do that. Metaphorically speaking at least. I don't own a heart." he snorted

"Liar." she rose to shove at his chest playfully. "Heart is not always a physical organ," she replied with an air of grace as if she was telling something grand to a room full of onlookers. 

Her dramatics pulled a smile from the man but their attention was turned to the window as a small shadow appeared and frantic tapping rapt at the glass as if a bird was trying to break through. There was a muffled voice shouting on the other side and Felicity scrambled from the bed to open the window. A black bird nearly hit her in the face as it hustled inside out of breath. 

"Matthew?! What are-" she began spinning around

"Boss!" the bird fluffed his feathers. "Morpheus is on his way to find you! He's close!" 

Her eyes widened and she looked over at Corinthian who had already risen. A lecherous smile on his face as if he was pleased to know his creator was coming to visit. 

"Wait, what are you doing with the rogue nightmare?" Matthew piped up realizing just who stood in the room with them. 

"He's a friend." at the raven's caw she waved frantically "Doesn't matter, long story. How far away is Morpheus?" she demanded wondering just how much time he had until the dream king came storming in here to collect her. 

She should be mad at him for the way he treated her but right now she was scared. If Matthew was in a panic then it meant Morpheus was mad. Pissed. Kind of mad.  

"Corinthian you gotta hide before he gets here or he'll take you too. Don't you want your freedom?" she turned around to look at her childhood dream friend but before he could reply the room suddenly got darker and a voice so soft yet so cold spoke from the inkiness of shadows 

"My creation. Taking what is not yours to take. Let the girl go."

Felicity spun around to see the white pinpoints of starlight eyes staring from behind her and she gasped, stumbling backward into Corinthian's tall frame. He rested his palms on her shoulders to hold her steady as he stared at the man slowly approaching. Morpheus was shorter than the nightmare but he was a lot more intimidating by far. Unfortunately for the Dream king. The nightmare had been in the waking world for too long and he no longer coward to his lord's feet begging for mercy as he would have done once upon a time. 

"Morpheus-" Felicity began swallowing the dryness in her throat but the Corinthian didn't allow her to speak; instead one of his hands slid up to her throat and squeezed enough to stop her words but not enough to stop her breathing as if silently telling her not to speak. 

The action only succeeded in making Morpheus even more infuriated. Did he care? Did he think the Corinthian would harm her? Did he not truly know? The man of dreams who controlled and created didn't know that his nightmare had been tramping within her mind since she was a little girl but never to harm?

"Unhand the girl Corinthian, you do not know the power you hold." Morpheus's figure slowly regained a physical form as he stepped forward; his blue eyes darkened with barely concealed wrath. 

"Boss...." Matthew looked nervously between them. "I don't think this is a good time-"

"Power? What power? You mean the power I have of life and death with this pretty thing in my hands?" he was taunting Morpheus and it was working. 

Felicity swallowed; finding it rather terrifying to be between the immortal beings in a fight but she did not understand what Morpheus was talking about when he spoke of power. 

"W-what are you talking about?" she managed to breathe out looking over at the dream lord

"If you waited as I had told you to you would have been informed." the raven-haired man bit out before reaching with slow purposeful movements for his pouch of sand "Now, I think it is time we all returned home to the Dreaming."

"I'm not going." Felicity blurted as she reached up to grab Corinthian's arm that was resting around her throat. "You can't make me Morpheus. The Dreaming is not my home." 

"Felicity...listen kid we gotta talk! Don't make any hasty decisions ....just hear him out will you?" Matthew piped up trying to diffuse the situation. 

She inhaled a shaky breath and shook her head. "He had his chance to tell me what's going on. A-about me, about where he's been...what's been going on. I've been left in the dark about everything; we are supposed to be friends weren't we?"

she lowered her gaze to the floor; grip tightening around Corinthian's arm. "If he wants to keep the damned ring then so be it; if it means more to him than me. But I'm done listening." 

Morpheus stared at the girl. His jaw clenching as the unbidden tears glistened at his waterline. 

"Do you truly think an object means more to me than you ever could?" his voice was soft with disbelief. 

"Well, you haven't given me a reason to think otherwise Dream." the girl slunk from beneath Corinthian's grip who had been silent this entire time more just watching than anything. 

"Very well..." the ruler of nightmares replied slowly as he lifted his bag of sand and allowed the grains to pour down onto the floor. "Come Matthew. Hell awaits." 

The sand swirled around like a desert storm; a pale tornado that whipped Felicity's hair around and fluttered her clothing. She lifted a hand to her face to block the grains from entering her eyes but it was no use and she could not stand the strength of the cyclone of tiny particles. She crouched with her arms over her head thinking this didn't seem normal. The sand normally did not extend this much. But when the sand finally started to disperse she looked up hearing the odd sounds around her. 

Her heart sank. Sank low to her stomach because she wasn't in Corinthian's apartment anymore. No, she was standing in a wasteland of foul-smelling space. Rotting trees and stumps crumbled all around her and the way the ground seemed to wail every time she shifted her weight was something she felt in her very bones despite not truly hearing an audible sound. This land is a curse, this land is evil. This land is damned. What was worse than being transported to Hell? 

Whatever the hell her body was trying to tell her. Her lungs breathed in the burning air and it stung like acid in her chest. It was hard to breathe and it felt as if the fire of the condemned coursed through her veins. The longer she stood there the more her body weakened and she didn't understand. This was something entirely different than the energy The Dreaming held when she first entered it. Her human body thrummed with electricity that seemed to thrum with the land when she was within the Dreaming. Something like kinship the longer she stayed in that realm. But this place. It was utter poison to her body; that much was clear as she raised a shaky hand in front of her face to see her veins were turning dark as if black ink was injected into her bloodstream. 

When she took a step forward her knees crumbled and she fell on all fours into the dust. Choking on the air that would not circulate through her system. Blood thundered in her ears and her vision was growing blurry as she struggled to rise on weakened limbs. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear someone calling for her. A black shadow appeared in her foggy sight in the shape of something small. Matthew? Matthew was here. He was trying to say something to her but his words were not registering. Then another appeared in her line of sight. Morpheus kneeled quickly in the dirt his cold hands were a relief as they pressed to her face; lifting it so that he could see her face. Her ashen gray face was as if all color was being drained from her very body. 

He propped her up in his lap as he hastily dug in his coat pocket for something and produced the silver chain with the ring dangling off of it. He was quick to place it over her head. As soon as the ring rested against her feeble heartbeat it glowed a bright red. Little by little the color returned to the girl's face and her hand rose to shakily grasp the jewelry as if her life depended on it. Her lungs opened up and she gasped out a harsh breath as if she had been drowning and her body flailed as she tried to sit up.

The dream king's arm bracketed her back and pulled her against his chest; one hand sinking into the softness of her auburn locks to keep her head pressed to his neck as he allowed a sliver of relief to race through him. He did not realize his heart was beating erratically until it began to slow to match the pattern of Felicity's breaths that ghosted against his pale skin. Matthew cawed lightly and craned his head to peer up at the two with worried beady eyes. 

"You were not meant to be here." Morpheus's voice was soft as he stroked her hair. 

"The sand seemed to think otherwise." her whisper was hoarse as her free hand played with the lapels of his jacket.

"Well, now that we're all safe and sound...where are we going?" Matthew asked hopping into Felicity's lap.

Her head lifted from the dream king's neck to look up at him with a slight frown. "You're going after the demon who has your helm aren't you?" she said sounding defeated.

"I have to if I am to rebuild my realm. I cannot turn back now." 

Morpheus watched as the teen struggled from his lap. Staggering back to her feet before looking around seemingly out of breath before turning to look at the man still crouched in the dust. 

"Okay, Dream. Lead the way. You've been here before right?"

The man rose slowly to his feet; head shaking as he drew near. A frown pinched his brow. "I am taking you back to the Waking World. You are not safe here-"

"As long as I have this thing I'll be fine." she interrupted holding the necklace up. "Whatever magic it possesses is keeping me alive in this -literally - god-forsaken land. So, where to?" 

"What happened to you saying you will stay in the Waking World?" one dark brow rose on his forehead making him look a little condescending as he questioned her

Felicity blew a breath out "I'm a redhead Dream. I change my mind like girls change clothes." she snorted with a teasing smile on her face before she held her hand out to him; the smile was now gone. "Besides, I told you earlier didn't I? We help each other."  

He studied her a moment before his larger hand grasped hers and he began to lead her down a path. "You mortals are confusing," he grumbled under his breath 

Matthew cawed in amusement as he took to the air above them and his laughter was met with Felicity's as she squeezed the dream king's hand in hers. "No, not confusing. Simply good at teaching people hard-learned lessons," she replied airily

The Endless's blue eyes shifted to her with a bemused glint in them as he kept silent after that and instead chose to scan the surroundings for any threat. Never once allowing his hand to slip from hers in fear she would slip away somehow. Hell was not a place for mortals but Felicity was not a mortal. Should he tell her that now? It would be terrible timing but what if something happens and he does not get a chance to tell her of his findings about her? That is, after all, the deal they had made had they not?

"You're broody right now mister. Care to share what's on your mind? Perhaps, I dunno, tell me what you found and caused you to act like a dick earlier?" The girl tugged at his sleeve

"I found your birth father."

"Oh." 

"He is an old friend of mine...but his tales are...troubling and confusing." the king replied in the vaguest of ways. 

"What's that supposed to mean? Did he like sell my soul to the devil to get this fancy schmancy piece of jewelry or something?" Felicity laughed but when her companion did not her smile fell and she cocked her head. 

"Sorry. Tell me what he said." she urged 

"Another time; we are here." The man replied much to her dismay but she looked ahead of them 

"Where is here?" she asked looking at the odd-looking cavernous space they had entered in.

What she first thought were some twisted branches of decaying trees actually began to move and she gawked; stumbling backward into the dream lord as she clasped a hand to her mouth as her mumbled words muffled behind her hand spoke in horror 

"Are those...."

"Body parts of mortals who were condemned to hell? Yes." the way Morpheus said it sounded almost funny to her but she did not laugh and instead looked over as the Endless reached out a hand to what looked like a mean made from the wall and took a stick from his hands.

There was a beat of pause before Dream hit a drum in front of him with the end of the drumstick and Felicity shuddered as the wails of the souls stuck within the walls sounded in her ears making her cringe and tuck herself further against Morpheus's side. Hell was not made for her. She never could stand gory films and this was as morbid as it got. 

There were thunderous footsteps slow and purposeful as they began to move closer to them on the other side of a gate that they now stood in front of and out of the fog came a tall giant. A gravelly deep baritone voice akin to what Felicity could only imagine a demon sounding like spoke words of what? Prophecy or scripture of some kind? Did hell have its biblical scripture they followed or something? 

"Greetings Squatterbloat. I have come to seek an audience with your sovereign." the girl turned her attention to Morpheus. He was so regal despite speaking with a demon and a part of her wanted to swoon but then those demonic eyes turned to her and she shrank partly behind her black clad companion.

"What business does an angel have in hell?" 

Felicity blinked a bit surprised at the words and her hand tugged at the back of Morpheus's coat as she rose on tiptoes to whisper in his ear from behind. "What's he talking about Dream?" 

The man barely even gave an inch as he refused to look in her direction as he began to address the gatekeeper once more; completely ignoring her question and the gatekeepers altogether as well which made her kind of salty as she looked down at Matthew like 'what in the hell?'

Her attention was drawn back when the screech of the gates opening to allow them to enter; she was quick to keep a hold of her companion's jacket as she nearly tripped over his heels with how close she was pressed to him as they entered. Oh trust her, she didn't miss the way Sqautterbloat eyed her and even leaned down to sniff her hair as she passed. 

"Creep." she whispered thinking no one heard her. 

But with the demon leading the way several feet ahead Morpheus did hear as his hand slipped into hers once more; keeping her close. A squeeze to her fingers told her that he'd heard her; noticed even when he pretended not to and for that Felicity felt a little better.

Click here for chapter 11!

If you enjoy my work please consider reblogging to share with your friends who may like this series! Thank you! <3

If you wish to be added to the tag list for future chapters please let me know!

Taglist: @lizajane2 @kpopgirlbtssvt @stilledimperfections

[pikapeppa]

oh my dear smut goblin goodness.

okokok. i am asking for smut, obviously. but i feel the need to provide context before begging for asking for this scenario.

my first intro to your writing was via your Eyes Wide Shut fic featuring Nare and the boyband that never was. then i read your Felaris fic. THEN i devoured Inadvisable. i love Nare and Athera, truly. but Tamaris? she’s my girl. if she were flesh and blood i would 1000% want to be her friend and struggle with the massive crush i have on her willingly because she’s a survivor in all senses and curly haired women need each other.

all that said, i am HIGHLY curious to know what a Tamaris-centric foursome or threesome with the men we want but cannot have would be like. like. HIGHLY HIGHLY HIGHLY curious. 👹👹👹👹👹

kloveyoubaiiiiiiiiii ❤️❤️❤️

BABE. MY LOVE. LISTEN. Any excuse to write more Felassan is one that I will happily take.

Forgive me for taking this prompt and turning it into a stupidly long and smutty prequel to The Love That Grows From Violence. I couldn't include Abelas because it would be too OOC for both him and Tamaris, but two ancient elves is moreeeeee than enough to play with, don't you think? 🍆😉

Pikapeppa's Dragon Age Day drabbles prompt fills: Prompt #4

Solas/Tamaris Lavellan/Felassan threesome: Dream A Little Dream Of Me NSFW, <13k words. An excerpt is here; the full fic is on AO3.

*********************

Tamaris wasn’t much of a dreamer.

She meant this both literally and figuratively. In the literal sense, it was unusual for her to dream when she fell asleep. On the rare occasions that she did have a dream, the details usually fled her mind within seconds of her waking up.

In the more figurative sense, Tamaris considered herself to be a pretty grounded sort of girl. She wasn’t the kind of person to indulge in stories about heroic deeds or people swooping in to save the day. She was, after all, a Dalish elf whose brother had been dragged away by the Templars, and then who had been unwittingly forced into becoming the figurehead of an organization that had undeniable ties to the fucking Chantry, whether they admitted it or not. She was a living testament to the ironic injustice of life and the absence of heroism, so of course she was skeptical. Sure, some people might call her cynical; Dorian liked to joke that her success as the Inquisitor was out of sheer spite rather than goodwill, for instance. But either way, it came down to the same thing: Tamaris wasn’t a big dreamer, neither when she was asleep nor when she was awake.

Solas was working on that, though — on the sleeping kind of dreams, at least. He was the only person in the Inquisition who knew that Tamaris was able to see and speak with spirits — aside from Cole, obviously — and he was the only person who had ever been happy to hear that Tamaris had any sort of magical connection to the Fade, feeble though that connection was. He’d been teaching her gradually how to strengthen her ties to the Fade, how to focus her spirit-talking ability and channel it into other sorts of magic, and lucid dreaming was one of the methods that Solas had been trying to teach her.

‘Trying’ being the operative word here. Tamaris was doing her best to follow Solas’s instructions on clearing her mind and focusing on her breathing before they went to bed, but in all blunt honesty, her attempts at lucid dreaming thus far had come to shit.

When she expressed this concern to Solas, however, he merely smiled. “It will take a great deal of practice,” he reminded her. “I told you that it would.”

“It was always easy to talk to spirits, though. I never had to practice that,” she pointed out. “And that’s when I was just a kid.”

“You were truly fortunate to be born with a natural talent for contacting the denizens of the Fade,” he said. “Your ability to channel magic beyond that is going to be a matter of trained skill, however, and that—”

“Takes time, I know.” She sighed and shoved a hand through her unruly curls. “Okay, fine, have it your way. And thanks for the lessons,” she added. “I know I’m a cranky bitch about it, but I’m grateful, honestly.”

“I know, vhenan,” he said softly. “Relax, now. Settle your mind.”

She scoffed as she snuggled into bed. “Are you going to tuck me in next? Bring me a cup of warm milk?”

“If you like,” he said mildly as he slid into the bed with her. “Although warm milk has been known to result in dreams about cheese.”

She snorted. “I’ll take it. A dream about cheese is still a dream.”

Solas chuckled, then extinguished the bedside candles with a gesture of his hand. “Goodnight, Tamaris.”

“‘Night,” she said, and she settled onto her side. Solas sidled up behind her and pulled her back against his chest, then draped his arm snugly around her waist, and Tamaris contentedly curled her fingers into his before closing her eyes.

All right, she thought. Focus on breathing and picture someplace familiar. These were the main points Solas had told her to keep in mind about this lucid dreaming thing: to keep her mind on the in-and-out of her breath, to acknowledge and gently let go of any other thoughts that crossed her mind, and to try and imagine, with as much detail as possible, a place that she found familiar and relaxing.

The place that she chose to imagine was the Planasene Forest. She’d spent much of her childhood there, clambering around in ruins with her clanmates and her brother Marin, and aside from having a decent orientation in the forest as a whole, Tamaris had particularly detailed — and fond — memories of some special places therein. So tonight, just as she did a few nights a week, she followed Solas’s advice and imagined an area of the Planasene Forest.

She inhaled slowly, and she pictured one particular landmark: a redwood tree whose trunk was more than a meter in diameter. The tree was vastly old and huge, and most memorably of all, its trunk bore a few knots toward the base that kind of looked like a face with two big black eyes.

Tamaris exhaled slowly while thinking about that tree. It stood at the edge of a small grassy clearing that was usually dappled with patches of shade even in the height of the day, thanks to the thick canopy overhead. There was a stream some twenty or so paces north of the tree, and another thirty or so paces down the stream, there was a handful of boulders that you could hop across to get to the other side — if you didn’t slip on the moss and fall on your ass in the water, of course.

A childhood memory came to her mind: a time when Marin had bruised his ass so badly from slipping in the river that he had to sit funny for days. Then she remembered that she was supposed to be focusing on the details of the forest, not on bittersweet memories of her brother.

Focus, Tamaris reminded herself. Do what Solas told you. She took another slow breath and thought about the smell of the forest: that lush damp smell, slightly sweet with decay and ripe with impending rain. She exhaled slowly and thought about the rough and comforting texture of the redwood tree’s bark beneath her palms. She inhaled again, a slow deep inhale, and she thought about the feeling of walking through that clearing: the soft cool cushioning of grass beneath her feet and the dappling of shadows on her skin and her clothes as she padded softly across the grassy clearing.

She continued to breathe slowly and evenly as she made her way toward the huge redwood tree. Then, belatedly, she realized there was a man sitting at the base of the tree.

It wasn’t surprising that she didn’t spot him at first; he was mostly obscured by a hooded cloak, and there was something about his posture that somehow made him blend into the forest. But as soon as he pushed back his hood and looked up to meet her eye, she wasn’t sure how she’d failed to notice him before.

He was a Dalish elf with long braided black hair and unusual violet eyes. He smirked at her and gracefully rose to his feet. “On dhea,” he said. “Or should I say ‘on nydha’? It’s hard to have any sense of time here.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

He quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

She gave him a chiding look. “I mean, what do you mean by ‘here’? It’s not that dark. It’s clearly the middle of the day.” She pointed at the leaf-blotted sky.

A slow smile lit his face — a slow and handsome smile, Tamaris noticed. “Where do you think we are right now?” he asked.

She frowned. “The Planasene Forest, obviously.”

His smile widened. He leaned against the redwood tree and folded his arms. “Is it, now? Look again.”

Tamaris eyed him suspiciously. He was acting awfully casually considering that they’d just met.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly, so she sighed bad-temperedly and looked around. Sure enough, it was the fucking Planasene Forest like she’d said. The clearing was there, and there was the redwood tree like usual, and around them was… it was the forest. But… it was the forest, wasn’t it?

“It seems off to you, doesn’t it?” he said.

She turned to find him standing closer to her than before. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “It’s… it’s not how I remember it.”

“Or maybe it’s all you can remember of it,” he suggested.

She thought about this for a second. He was probably right. Solas had told her to imagine the location of her choice in as much detail as possible, and she’d only been focusing on the redwood tree—

She suddenly straightened. She’d just realized where they really were. “We’re in the Fade,” she exclaimed.

“We are, yes,” he said. “Good eye.”

She ignored his teasing tone; she was too pleased with herself to be irritated. “Oh, fuck yes,” she said with relish. “It took long enough. I’ve been trying to find my way here for fucking weeks.” She planted her fists on her hips and looked at the amorphous forest with no small amount of satisfaction. Maybe it wasn’t the most defined dream forest in the world, but she’d purposely gotten here by herself, and that was what mattered.

The strange man laughed: a sound that reminded her somehow of a stream burbling over a bed of stones. “That’s an unusual response for a Dalish woman.”

She glanced at him. “How so?”

“I’m surprised that you’re happy to be here,” he said. “Most Dalish would be concerned about offending the gods or the demons by stepping into their domain.”

Tamaris narrowed her eyes at him. His tone was polite enough, but there was something mocking about his handsome smile that was starting to annoy her. “Aren’t you Dalish?” she asked.

“No, I’m not.”

She eyed him with growing confusion. “But you have vallaslin.”

“I do, don’t I?” he mused. “I suppose the Dalish weren’t the first to come up with facial tattoos. Or anything, really, aside from misguided myths.”

Stung, she turned to face him fully and folded her arms. “I’m sorry, did my being Dalish somehow give you the right to be a fucking asshole?”

He blinked at her, then huffed in amusement and rubbed his chin. “I’ve offended you.”

“It’s kind of hard to get off on the right fucking foot with someone if you make fun of their culture in the first two minutes of meeting them,” she said in a hard voice.

He cocked his head. “Has it only been two minutes? Time really is meaningless here.”

She scoffed and turned away. A second later, he was standing in front of her with his hands raised in surrender. “Wait,” he said. “I am sorry. Truly, I apologize. There’s no need to leave.”

“What are you apologizing for?” she said aggressively. If his apology wasn’t a good one, she was going to smack that smile off of his face.

“For jamming my foot so thoroughly into my mouth that it’s a wonder I’m able to make this apology at all,” he said. “I can practically taste the dirt from my own heels.”

She gaped at him, thrown off by his outrageous reply. Then, totally without intending to, she laughed.

He grinned — gods be damned, he really did have a nice smile. “Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked.

“No,” she retorted, though she was still chuckling. “It means you’re full of shit, but your bullshit is entertaining enough that I’ll let it go for now.”

“Excellent,” he said cheerfully. “In that case, I propose that we start again.” He placed one hand on his chest. “I am known as Felassan. And you are?”

She eyed him for a moment, wondering whether she should indulge his bullshit or tell him to fuck off. Then she shrugged. If this really was a lucid dream of her own making, then he must be here for a reason, and she might as well see where this went.

“I’m Tamaris. Of Clan Lavellan,” she added pointedly, just in case he decided to act like a dick again about her being Dalish.

Felassan bowed his head in a politely formal gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Tamaris of Clan Lavellan,” he said, and he held out his hand to shake.

She reached out and shook his hand. Instead of releasing his hand right away, however, she peered closely at his face. His expression was pleasant and his unusual violet gaze was free of guile, but there was something about him that was poking at the back of her mind in a weird way.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his eyes moved from her face down to her chest, then down the length of her body to her toes. By the time his bold violet eyes finished their slow perusal of her body and returned to her face, her heart was racing, and her blood felt like it was jittering in her veins.

He released her hand. “You don’t,” he said. “But you will.”

She stared wordlessly at him. That was bold as fuck. In fact, everything he’d just done and said in the past five seconds was so shameless that it almost defied belief. Who the fuck did he think he was to look at her in such a heated way? And to say something so fucking provocative? He was lucky she wasn’t punching him in the face right now.

She took a deep breath to calm her thrumming heart, then folded her arms. “Are you a spirit?”

“I can see why you’d ask me that,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

“What sort of answer were you looking for?”

“A simple yes or no would be nice,” she drawled. “You’re in the Fade, and you were here when I got here. So it makes sense that you’d be a spirit, right?”

He shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Your logic sounds pretty foolproof. Why bother asking me if I’m a spirit, if that’s what you think?”

“I… shit, I don’t know,” she said blankly. “I guess I was being polite.”

Felassan smirked. “It doesn’t seem to me that ‘polite’ is something you’re used to being.”

She laughed again without thinking about it. “Fuck you.”

He grinned. “Are you saying I’m wrong?” “No. Actually, you’re right,” she admitted. “Though if Josephine had it her way, I’d be well-mannered all the fucking time.”

Felassan huffed. “I don’t know this Josephine person, but don’t let her curb you. It would be akin to shaving the thorns off of a felandaris plant. It might be more pleasant to the eye, but removing its teeth makes it less than what it truly is.”

She eyed him in surprise. That was an unexpectedly incisive thing for him to say — and something she’d often thought herself.

She peered carefully at him. “Are you sure I don’t know you? There’s something about you that’s weirdly familiar.”

“I’m flattered that you keep asking me this,” he said. “It makes me wonder if you’re thinking about knowing me better.” His tone was faintly salacious and his eyebrows were quirked in a way that made her tummy squirm, and his dimpled smile was so attractive that it was starting to get annoying.

She purposely took a step away from him and planted her hands on her hips. “Are you always this forward with women you’ve just met?”

“Only the ones who are undressing themselves in front of me,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” she said tartly. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She glanced down at herself, then balked. Instead of the leather leggings and tunic she’d been wearing when she entered this dream, she was now wearing nothing more than a loose cotton shirt with a regrettably wide neckline.

She defensively folded her arms in case her nipples were showing through the thin shirt. And belatedly, very belatedly, she realized that Felassan’s clothing had changed too. Instead of being fully clothed including a hooded cloak, he was now wearing only a tunic and breeches — and the sleeves of the tunic, she noticed, were rolled up to his elbows in a way that somehow seemed purposely provocative.

Felassan smirked at her — an annoyingly knowing smirk — then turned away and wandered back over to the redwood tree. “So, Tamaris of Clan Lavellan. What brings you to this undeniably charming part of the Fade?” He peeled off a small piece of the redwood tree’s bark, then placed it in his mouth and started to slowly chew it.

She wrinkled her nose. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying to find a salve for a pain that has no solution,” he said with a smile.

She felt a funny pang in her chest. Felassan’s words were serious despite his smile, and there was a faint tilt to his eyebrows that looked almost sad. And somehow, even though she’d just met him, Tamaris knew that sadness wasn’t an emotion that often touched his face, even if he was feeling it.

She stared wordlessly at him for a second, unnerved by his answer and by her weird sense of awareness of him, and his smile eventually warmed to an expression of genuine amusement. “You haven’t answered my question. What brings you here?”

“I, um…” She gathered herself and stepped a little closer to him. “I’m — uh, trying to work on strengthening my magic.”

He seemed surprised by this. “Are you a mage?”

She shook her head and idly ran her fingers over the tree’s mottled bark. “No. I mean, not — honestly, no. I’ve got a talent for talking to spirits, and my boyfriend’s been teaching me to expand that into using magic in other ways.”

Felassan quirked an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend, you say?”

She gave him a mocking look. “Yes, my boyfriend. Does that disappoint you?”

”Enormously,” he said. “At the same time, it’s inconsequential.”

She gave him a disbelieving look. What the fuck did he mean by that? Before she could pick on him about it, he delicately spat out the piece of bark, then turned back to her with a smile. “And how exactly is this boyfriend of yours teaching you to strengthen your connection to the Fade?”

“Mindfulness stuff and meditation, mainly,” she said. “How to be more aware of my own ties to the Fade. And this, actually.” She waved vaguely at the forest, then leaned against the redwood tree. “I rarely dream, so he’s been trying to teach me how to dream on purpose. This is the first time I’ve ever been able to do it.”

His eyebrows rose appreciatively. “Congratulations are in order, then. This is a very good lucid dream for a beginner. I can only imagine the dreams you’ll conjure with more time and training.”

“Yes, that’s what—” She broke off suddenly and snapped her fingers. “That’s why you seem familiar! You’ve got the same accent as my boyfriend.”

“Hm,” Felassan said. “Where does his accent hail from?”

“Some little village in the north called…” She frowned. “Shit, I’ve forgotten what the village is called. Or maybe he didn’t tell me? No, that’s stupid, he must have told me. I’ll have to ask him again.”

“Interesting,” Felassan said. “And what is your boyfriend’s name?”

Tamaris gave him a challenging look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” he said. “It behooves me to learn the name of the man I’m going to be cuckolding.”

Tamaris scoffed. Cuckolding! He was fucking bold as brass! “You are fucking shameless, you know that?” she scolded. “What makes you think you’ll be doing any cuckolding?”

He took a step closer to her. “You tell me. This is your lucid dream, after all.”

Her belly flipped. Felassan was only a couple of feet away from her now: definitely closer than two strangers should be. Oh shit, and he was stepping even closer — close enough that her heart was jumping now at his proximity.

She forced herself to take a step back from him, but to no avail: her back hit the redwood tree. Then Felassan placed his palm on the tree beside her head.

Tamaris felt a distinct and shamefully familiar leap of excitement between her legs. Then Felassan spoke to her in a low and persuasive voice. “Come now, Tamaris, think about this logically. If this is your lucid dream, then everything that’s happening right now is of your making.”

“And what exactly do you seem to think is happening right now?” she said acidly.

“Well, first of all, you’re undressing me.”

“I am not…!” She wilted slightly; he was right. He was wearing nothing but his breeches now.

He smirked and went on. “Secondly, your body is a screaming provocation. You’re making it very obvious what you want, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Oh, really?” she snapped. “What makes you such an expert on my body?”

His smirk widened. Then, to her dismay and delight, he leaned in and brushed his lips to her ear. “Your nipples are so hard they’re visible through your shirt, and you’re rolling your hips. Am I to understand that that’s all meaningless?”

Tamaris tried to reply. Really, she did. But his voice was low and lilting and smooth, and the sound of it was having a totally unreasonable effect on her. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth and her breath was trapped in her chest, and her heart seemed to have migrated down in her body to thump directly between her legs in an extremely distracting drumbeat of lust.

She forced her tongue to move. “Are you a desire demon?” she breathed.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he murmured in her ear. “You appeared out of the blue when I was on the cusp of going mad with loneliness. That’s usually when spirits of desire make their move.”

This actually distracted her for a moment. If he was a spirit, then why was he lonely? “Do spirits get lonely?” she asked.

“Are spirits so different from corporeal people, in your estimation?”

She let out a breathless laugh. “You really sounded like my boyfriend just then.”

He made a soft growling noise that she felt in her nipples. “Are you trying to make me jealous or to flatter me?”

“Neither,” she retorted. “I’m just stating a fact.”

He huffed, then lifted his other hand and brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “Maybe we should find something else for you to do with that blunt mouth of yours,” he murmured.

She ignored the throbbing pulse in her pussy and gave him a dirty look. “You’re trying to shut me up? That’s really fucking charming.”

He quirked a playful eyebrow at her. “How’s this for charming: kiss me.”

She blurted a laugh at how audacious he was. “No! You fucking rogue.”

A flash of a grin crossed his face. Then he abruptly tilted her chin up. “Kiss me,” he commanded.

Fuck you, she thought instinctively, but the scathing retort didn’t leave her lips. Instead, like a traitor to her own self, she wet her lips invitingly.

His violet eyes flared with heat. Then, with an unexpected degree of tenderness, he cradled her neck in his palm. “Kiss me, Tamaris,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard, then pulled his hand away from her neck. “I… I can’t.”

“Can’t, or shouldn’t?” he asked.

“Both. Either,” she said. “Take your fucking pick.”

Another beautiful smile lit his face. Then he sighed and trailed his knuckles along her jawline. “This torture is exquisite. You don’t know what it is to behold a flame so bright and to be forbidden from partaking of its warmth.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “I think you’ve just never had someone say ‘no’ to you.”

To her surprise, his carnal expression suddenly softened into that slightly melancholy look. “You’re so very wrong about that.”

Her heart twisted, and she gazed silently at him with an odd sort of ache in her throat. Why was she suddenly feeling sorry for him when they’d only just fucking met?

The melancholy in his face quickly faded back into a playful smile. “All right. I have a proposal for you. Invite your boyfriend to join us. It’s your dream, after all.”

She gaped at him. “Invite my — no fucking way! Are you nuts?”

“Why?” Felassan said with a grin. “Are you afraid I might seduce him?”

“Should I be?” Tamaris said archly. “Are you really a desire demon in disguise, then? This ‘bring your boyfriend’ bullshit sounds like the kind of cheap trick a desire demon would try.”

He chuckled. “I’m no desire demon, I promise you that. And I assure you that my only interest is in knowing you. If inviting your boyfriend here to watch is what it takes to enjoy the pleasure of your fiery warmth, then so be it.”

She laughed again at his audacity. “You think he’d just stand here and watch while you fuck me? You don’t know him.”

Felassan grinned. “He doesn’t have to just watch. He’s free to compete with me for your attention if he wants.”

She almost laughed again at how shameless he was. “You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” she accused. And honestly, she wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t a desire demon — especially since his proposition was actually starting to percolate in her mind now. The idea of Solas and Felassan competing for her attention, taking turns trying to one-up each other while pleasuring her? Actually, no, not just taking turns: at the same time.

Oh yes, now that was a nice scenario. Imagine if Solas and Felassan were fucking and licking and touching her at the same time, trying to outdo each other in their bids to make her fall apart into a pleasure-stunned mess…

A thump of lust made itself known between her legs, and Felassan smiled. “You like the idea, don’t you? You like the idea of me facing off with your boyfriend in a bid for who can pleasure you the most.”

“No, I don’t,” she lied.

He laughed: that annoying lilting laugh that sounded like a burbling sunlit stream. “Don’t lie to me, Tamaris. I can tell that you like the idea.”

“Fuck you,” she said breathlessly.

His violet eyes flared with heat. Then he stepped even closer to her: close enough that his chest was brushing against her hard and tingling nipples.

He skimmed his lips over her cheekbone, and she stopped breathing. Then Felassan whispered in her ear: “With great pleasure, if you’ll permit it.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Solas said dryly.

****************

HAHAHA A CLIFFHANGER. I'M A DICK. The rest is here on AO3!

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PRELIMINARY ROUND - MARVEL COMICS - ELEKTRA NATCHIOS

PROPAGANDA

Elektra Natchios (Marvel Comics)

1.) Elektra was created by the misogynist himself, Frank Miller, who would write female characters like garbage including her. Throughout her entire existence within a majority of Daredevil comics, Elektra has been treated as a character made to be a trophy for Matt Murdock. Daredevil writers love making her life revolve around Matt in a way that its framed as romantic when the reality of their relationship should be framed as a tragedy due to their conflicting ideals (and in my honest opinion, I think she should start hating him).

Frank Miller's Man Without Fear completely butchers Elektra's character by changing her character to this "crazy woman with voices in her head who loves to kill anyone and anything" completely shitting on the original backstory of her being a sheltered rich girl who was very kind and sweet until her father's death that shattered her hopes and dreams, leading her to become vengeful and turn into an assassin who believes that all she's good at is killing and that she can't ever live a happy normal life.

[...]

And of course thanks to the mcu, that influenced current Daredevil writer Chip Zdarsky, who ruins her character EVEN MORE by trying to follow up on the MWF backstory AND make it align with the mcu version as well to this spy that was sent by the Hand to purposely seduce Matt just like how mcu Stick did in the show. Zdarsky writes Elektra in a way that ruins her character completely and makes her infantalize/belittle Matt by calling him naive and foolish despite in previous incarnations where she UNDERSTANDS why Matt wouldn't follow in her footsteps and wouldn't kill and WOULD NEVER TRY TO CONVINCE HIM OTHERWISE (and Zdarsky made her fetishize Matt's blindness in a way in which she would never do if she was in character). Zdarsky made her stop her ways JUST FOR MATT and then writes Matt to constantly disrespect her and call her a murderer despite in previous iterations where he WOULDN'T DO THAT AND ALSO UNDERSTANDS WHY SHE'S LIKE THIS WITHOUT CHANGING HER. (Zdarsky wrote everyone OOC in his run but the most who suffered from it is def Matt and Elektra). Then Zdarsky made Elektra become Daredevil which yeah, the suit is cool, but the implications of it sucks as Daredevil is not an identity that anyone can pick up on like Spider-Man. Daredevil is explicitly an identity that Matt took up bc of the injustice his father received after his murder along with the desire to protect the victims of the justice system. Elektra is a foil to Matt so her uprising as Elektra wouldn't align with becoming Daredevil. How he framed it was essentially on par of a woman taking up the husband's last name but so much worse. Elektra as Daredevil doesn't work because it completely erases her identity as Elektra and further pushes the idea that she only exists to serve as Matt's trophy, as his pain, as his wife, as his tragedy, etc etc.

Not a single male Daredevil writer should ever LOOK at Elektra ever again until they know how to write her because she has been done so dirty and receives misogyny on EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF HER EXISTENCE. There's only been a few times where Elektra's been done well and a lot of them had Matt be involved very little in it and it really makes you think.

2.) Both show and fandom perperativing the sexist and racist troupe of a dragon lady: overt sexual and physical aggression, untrustworthiness, and mysteriousness. The fandom is notorious for saying Elektra is toxic, instead of recognizes she's an abuse victim working for her abuser. More often that not, all nuance is thrown out the window

(Comics and show) Killed for Matt's(Daredevil's) pain/fridged

3.) Constantly mischaracterized and used as a prop for Matt Murdock/Daredevil, especially in the case of his netflix series and his ongoing comics written by Chip Zdarksy (where she is so intensely out of character she's almost unrecognizable, and in the case of the current Daredevil run parts of her origin story have even been heavily retconned to more closely resemble her Netflix counterpart which is. Oh my fucking god its infuriating.) But it's an issue really like half the time she shows up in any given daredevil comic (im being generous)

Elektra Natchios (NMCU)

1.) This continues over to her mcu version in the netflix show where the writers decide to be extremely racist and make her the dragon lady stereotype while also following the Man Without Fear version to which many dd comics fan fucking hate. The show paints her as someone who was born evil with this Black Sky bullshit and makes her a puppet for the Hand and then kills her off just to be white man angst for Matt (comics have done this too but the netflix show takes this idea to such a degree that its horrible). Thanks to the netflix show, many fans believe that Elektra is this murderous bloodthirsty woman who is abusive to Matt and a manipulator so now Elektra faces misogyny and racism from fandom.

2.) Both show and fandom perperativing the sexist and racist troupe of a dragon lady: overt sexual and physical aggression, untrustworthiness, and mysteriousness. The fandom is notorious for saying Elektra is toxic, instead of recognizes she's an abuse victim working for her abuser. More often that not, all nuance is thrown out the window

(Comics and show) Killed for Matt's(Daredevil's) pain/fridged

(Show) brought back to life in the spin off series only to be killed again

3.) Constantly mischaracterized and used as a prop for Matt Murdock/Daredevil, especially in the case of his netflix series