#*DOUBT; IT SETTLED LIKE OIL IN YOUR BLOOD. ( RAVEN )

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Four - A Union of Red and Black | Series Masterlist

Summary: The day to wed has arrived, and they both know what they expect of one another, whether they're willing to bend or not | Word Count: 6k~ | Warnings: mention of war, canon-divergent, post-Dance Aemond, trauma, arranged marriage, intimate examinations, mild threats

My dearest Rosaleen,

I regret that I cannot be there on the day of your union. The gods know that nothing would have brought me greater pride than to stand by you, to give you away as is tradition. But my health worsens with each passing moon, and my Maester advises against travel. To journey to King’s Landing in my condition may mean I never make it back to Raventree at all.

This is not how it should be. But know this, my daughter, you carry Blackwood blood, and that alone is enough to steel you for what lies ahead. I need not be there in body, for I am with you in name, in blood, in all that you are. And that is enough.

Make them remember who you are, Rosaleen. And if you ever have need of me, you know where to send the raven.

With all my love,Your father

How many times had she read the same letter now? At least twice this morning she had traced her father’s careful hand with her deep eyes, as if trying to see some message behind the words staring back at her. Her father had never been one for excessive sentiment, but she supposed this was near enough.

Except, it was not enough, she thought bitterly, not when she had to stand before all those lords alone. Let alone Aemond Targaryen himself.

The water lapped against her skin, the scent of rose and lavender near-sickly in combination with her bitter feelings towards her father, however childish. Steam misted the air around her as Lyla sat behind her, carefully working scented oils through her slick, black hair. At the sensation of her delicate fingers against her scalp, she tipped her head back against the tub, eyes half-lidded as she listened to the idle chatter of the morning outside her chambers. Scrambling headless chickens panicking for the last little arrangements of her union to Prince Aemond.

Tonight, she would not return to these rooms. Tonight, she would be expected elsewhere. Expected to consummate her union in the chambers of Aemond Targaryen. 

Alysanne huffed from where she was strewn across the chaise, boredly twisting her rings and not a care in the realm for her wrinkled gown, “you’re going to burn a hole through that parchment with the way you’re staring at it,” she muttered.

The glare Rosaleen gave was as if she was going to burn a hole through Alysanne if she were not careful.

Thinking better of it, she inhaled, letting the warm, perfumed air settle in her chest.

She placed the crinkled letter aside in a dish, its edges curled where she had been constantly unfurling it. It sat beside her morning tea, honeyed breads and fruit, though at this stage, untouched from being wound up so tightly.

Alysanne glanced over, noting her lack of reply, “you look like a woman about to enter battle.”

Rosaleen exhaled a quiet laugh, fingers skimming over the surface of the water, “in some ways, I suppose I am.”

Alysanne smirked, “well, I doubt your betrothed will bring a sword to the wedding bed, at least. Unless, of course, it’s that oversized Valyrian one he never seems to be without. Compensating, if you ask m–”

Rosaleen cleared her throat, and Lyla let out a quiet gasp before hastily covering her mouth, eyes wide with embarrassment at reacting aloud. Rosaleen shot Alysanne a dry look, though she did not entirely suppress her amusement.

“I take it Lord Blackwood will not be making a last-minute arrival?” Alysanne asked after a moment, tipping her head to study Rosaleen’s expression.

“No,” Rosaleen replied simply, glancing once again at the letter.

My dearest daughter…

She heard Alysanne sigh before she spoke again, softer this time, “I’m sorry, Ros.”

“It is what it is,” she said, voice even, “I knew this was likely when I left Raventree. His health has been failing for some time.”

Alysanne watched her carefully, “that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”

Rosaleen swallowed, staring at the swirling petals floating atop the water. 

“No,” she admitted quietly, “it does not.”

Lyla lifted a pitcher of water to rinse Rosaleen’s hair. As the warmth cascaded down her back, Rosaleen closed her eyes, allowing herself this final moment of quiet. By evening, she would belong to Aemond Targaryen, and the bed she slept in would not be her own, but theirs, as husband and wife.

Alysanne stood to full height, examining herself in the looking glass, “well, if nothing else, you’ll smell divine when you face the dragon.”

Rosaleen opened one eye, arching a brow. “And that was a concern?”

“Of course,” Alysanne replied breezily, “men are useless creatures at the best of times, but at least this one will have no cause to complain about his wife’s scent.”

Lyla let out another startled giggle, and despite herself, Rosaleen shook her head, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “If he does,” she mused, stretching her fingers over the surface of the water, “perhaps I’ll drown him in rosewater.”

Alysanne grinned. “Now that’s the spirit.”

The gown was heavy. 

Layer by layer, Lyla and another maidservant draped Rosaleen's figure with fabrics of intricate designs. Laces pulled tight, clasps clicked into place, the crimson gown falling snugly into place against her frame like armour. For the battle she would soon face. The vows she would soon take. Alysanne and Arianne watched from the sidelines. Earlier they had been bickering about whether to begin the festivities of the day with some wine, but now, as her dress was framed to her body, the weight of the moment drew them both into a reverent silence.

Bodice secured, Lyla circled her lady, admiring the gold thread mimicking the twisted branches that graced Raventree Hall woven alongside the Targaryen three-headed dragon. The skirt was rich, as deep as freshly spilled wine. Ornate. But no decoration.

No gown in this realm would wear Rosaleen Blackwood.

Alysanne had produced a fine, silver ring from a silken bag for her to wear. It was adorned with a rare emerald, shaped into a pear. Her mother's. She smiled in thanks and slid it onto her right ring finger, the fit comforting. Admiring the appearance of it alongside her other pieces of jewellery, Arianne sidled up to her.

“Your father had these sent.”

Arianne cupped them in her palm like teardrops, allowing Rosaleen to marvel at the silver and pearl hairpins that were delicately placed inside.

“He sent these?”

Arianne smiles softly, “they belonged to your mother as well.”

She had never seen these. Had never seen her own mother wear them when she yet lived. Could she have worn these on her wedding day? She’d never given much thought as to how she might have felt, a Piper marrying a Blackwood was a strange enough match. Soft, well-spoken Piper wed off to a Blackwood who could barely keep a conversation without uttering foul curses. 

And now she was to be made an even stranger match.

Rosaleen couldn’t deny they looked elegant, little pearly pins, reflecting in her dark hair. They looked like little dew drops along a meadow, or the tears caught by the candlelight. And that is when she took a good long look at herself, properly, the woman that would be presented today. Not a Blackwood girl from the Riverlands, not the daughter of a yet grieving father. She was a bride who would soon stand beside a dragon, whether she welcomed the flames or not.

She exhaled, “Aly, would you pass me the box from that drawer,” Rosaleen asked, pointing to her vanity.

Alysanne arched a brow but obeyed, stepping lightly toward the polished wooden case that rested in the vanity. It was small but ornate, carved with intricate Targaryen dragon motifs curling along the edges. When she handed it to Rosaleen, Alysanne gave her an inquisitive look. “What’s in it?”

Rosaleen hesitated for a fraction of a moment before flicking open the latch. The lid creaked slightly as she lifted it. A necklace, delicate and finely crafted, its pale gemstone glinting like starlight.

Alysanne leaned closer, recognition dawning. “That’s…” she murmured.

Arianne gasped softly, covering her mouth. “How did you—”

Rosaleen’s fingers ghosted over the cool chain. A gift.

Her mind drifted back, the memory unfurling in her thoughts like ink spilling into water.

The summons had come late in the evening, just after Rosaleen had endured the humiliation of the Maester’s examination and Alicent’s thinly veiled warnings. She had wanted nothing more than to seclude herself away in her chambers, to gather her thoughts without feeling the weight of scrutiny.

Instead, she was here.

The heavy oak doors of Aemond’s solar loomed before her, shut tight, but the Kingsguard had wordlessly pushed them open when she approached, signalling that she was expected.

For once in her young life, Rosaleen Blackwood was unsure what to do with her hands. Were she in a different mindset, she would name this behaviour blatant, foolish even, knowing the situation and troubles she could find herself in. And yet, Aemond had done it anyway. Had summoned her, and albeit not as intimate as his chambers, still it was to speak with her. Alone.

Stood before him now, she felt akin to those poor creatures Lannisters kept in their caged, prodded, poked and taunted, as Aemond stood before a desk laden with papers and scrolls, no doubt pertaining to their upcoming union. But she dare not look too hard among the scribbles. 

“Lady Rosaleen,” he greeted, ever unreadable. A small, polite gesture. That was all. But in his gaze he was searching.

She dipped out of habit but kept her expression composed, moving her lips carefully so as not to coat the words in barely concealed frustration, “Your Grace. You summoned me?”

He blinks as if a statue come to life, and nods, reaching for a square box upon his desk. “I did. There is something I wish you to have.”

She frowned slightly as he strode toward her, extending the gift. She did not move to take it immediately.

“We should not be alone,” she said plainly. “It is improper.”

She wasn’t sure if it was real, that little flicker of amusement in his expression, “are you concerned for your virtue?” he asked, edged with dry humour, or perhaps annoyance, “or my intentions?”

Rosaleen’s jaw tensed, “you would do well to respect the fact that I was just prodded by a Maester like some broodmare. And–”

And your mother. She was about to say, but stopped herself. And Aemond stood, expectant, but did not push when she did not continue.

A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, with slow deliberation, Aemond took her hand and pressed the box into it. His fingers lingered for only a moment before he stepped back. She hesitated before finally opening it. The moment her eyes fell upon the delicate necklace, her breath caught.

As non-committal as she wanted to seem, the piece was beautiful. Stunning gold was bound together so delicately to meet then in the middle, cupping a dark, green stone encompassed by yet more of the gleaming metal. This was no ordinary jewellery.

“These are the Queen’s jewels.”

“They are,” he answered simply.

“I cannot accept this,” she looked back up at him, “we are not wed and I am not yet your Queen–”

He tilted his head slightly, “no, not yet.”

Her hands tightened around the necklace, her fingers pressing into the intricate links of gold. “I am no fool, Aemond. This is not merely a gift.”

His eye flickered over her. “No,” he admitted. “It is not.”

Must every inquisition into his true intentions be akin to getting blood from stone? “Then what is it?”

“It is a message,” he murmured, almost tired, “to the court. To my mother. To you.”

Rosaleen did not flinch, though the weight of them settled against her ribs. She had expected possession. Aemond was a Targaryen, raised among dragons and conquerors, taught from birth that loyalty was to blood, to family, to the weight of power and duty. But standing here, beneath his unwavering gaze, she understood that he meant more than that. He meant this war was won. And she, this marriage, this alliance, this choice, would be his victory for all to see. His prize for all the bloodshed.

She let out a slow breath, “you wish to claim something that is not yet yours.”

His eye gleamed in the dim candlelight, and it was increasingly difficult to tell if he was impressed she dare defy him, or if the prospect excited him, “you will be.”

Rosaleen did not let herself waver. Instead, she lifted the necklace between them, the gold catching in the flickering light, “if I wear this, they will talk.”

“Let them.”

If she could roll her eyes she would.

Rosaleen straightened, smoothing her hands over her skirts, “then I suppose I shall wear it,” she murmured, her voice quieter than before, “for the sake of appearances, of course.”

Just that, nothing more, she thought. If he wished to show her off like a spoil of war, she would school herself into being nothing more than that.

Aemond’s lips twitched, though it was not quite a smirk, “of course.”

The mere notion that he might be enjoying this discomfort, revelling in it, made her spine tingle with unease. Rosaleen felt a surge of desire to make him feel the same. She had made her stance clear enough. Practical and humble. But even she was not one to flounder when made fun of, and certainly not one to shy away from batting back if needed.

She held the necklace out, “then put it on me.”

She thought he would not hesitate. But to her surprise, his expression slid right back to indifferent, and he did. A sense of unease in his pause. But after a moment, he pushed off the desk to full height, and took the golden chain from her grasp. Her deep eyes watched him, enjoying her small victory in his discomfort as she turned and pulled her hair aside from her shoulders so he might slide the jewellery around her neck. 

He was careful not to touch her directly. As if that was a step too far before the union, before they would be joined before the gods.

But he did all the same, his fingers lingering slightly too long at her nape.

She rounded back and lifted her chin to show her bejewelled collarbone, the dark gold easy against her complexion. Neither spoke for a long, tense moment.

“It suits you,” Aemond finally said, as if it took all his effort.

“A collar always does, does it not.”

She thought then she had pushed too far. He did not appreciate the comment nor the manner in which she delivered it. Aemond sighed and leaned back against his desk, but did not challenge her view on this absurd possessive nature he had imposed upon her. 

She bid him good night, thanked him for the necklace and made her exit. If she was to wear this collar to prove she was his property then so be it.

But let them wonder who truly held the leash.

Alicent will be furious, she can envisage it now. Not only will she be traversing the aisle to her union alone, without a father at her side, the first act of individualism that the Dowager Queen did not want. Now she will be doing so, wearing a piece of the Queen’s jewels. 

Jewels her late daughter would most certainly have worn. The Queen before her.

She exhaled slowly, and looked upon herself once more. The same necklace sat snug against her collarbone, the memory of that night, of Aemond fastening it, was clearer now, like the touch of a phantom.

Alysanne smiled, “you wear it.”

“Of course I do,” she responded to her cousin. I must.

Arianne joined at her side, adjusting a crimson sleeve. Both cousins voiced in their heads what they could not out loud, not yet.

That Rosaleen Blackwood looked every bit a Queen.

There was no time for nerves. If she was to walk this short but painful path to stand beside her betrothed alone, she would do it as a Blackwood. With squared shoulders, an iron grip on her emotions and a temperament to match the fated Targaryen she was to wed.

A knock came, familiar, and Lyla poked her head around the door. “My Lady,” she began hesitantly, “it is time.”

“I fear, Lord Larys.”

“Fear is the fool’s concern. We must keep our heads about us.”

Alicent glanced over at him, sat spread out in the armchair by the mantle. His hand rested lazily on the handle of his cane, as if he anticipated getting up to stand but could not find the will nor strength to do it. His eyes were already on her. The eyes of a man who acted in service to his Queen once, and sent his house into near-extinction to do so. Though merely Dowager Queen now, one rut on the ladder below Aemond, soon to be Rosaleen too, Larys operated as if nothing at all had changed. She and all her whims were his purpose, if it meant securing his place at Court, and Lord of Harrenhal. A title he clung to.

Alicent’s hands fiddled nervously with her necklace. Her neckline was high today, guarded. Her dark, chestnut hair braided away from her anxious face. Dark, brown eyes staring ahead at Larys Clubfoot, as if desperate for a way out of the horror she was soon to find herself embroiled in, no doubt.

“How must I keep my head about me when my son is to be wed. My last child.”

“He is to wed,” Larys reasoned, “not leaving for battle.”

At this moment, the two felt the same.

Alicent turned away, her heavy skirts near taking her off balance. She had not worn anything of this weight for a long time. It felt familiar, but not in the way that warmed her heart. From this feeling alone, she could almost feel the cold bite of the shackles around her wrists as if she were a girl again.

His eyes were like those of a predatory bird, always searching for its next meal. Except he did not possess the claws to reach out and grasp.

“There is no need to fear,” he added, “Aemond was certainly not hesitant when it came to dismissing the opinions of the gentler sex at the Small Council when he grew displeased. I doubt this girl will receive different treatment.”

“This girl will be his wife,” Alicent near-spat, “her kin are impetuous, rude and incautious. Who is to say she will not be the same once the crown is placed upon her brow?”

Larys shook his head, almost displeased, “she will not. She is gentler than her Blackwood counterpart, we reasoned this when we suggested the match. Aemond may go to her for council regarding the Riverlands, yes. But she will not have the knowledge nor wisdom of those who have sat at that table since the late King Viserys ruled in peace.”

Alicent knew this, of course. But it did not mean Aemond would turn to her for help either, should he need it. He believed everything need only be thought about if he personally gave any merit or importance to it, anything else was secondary. She could not for the life of her wonder where he inherited such pride. Viserys was never a slave to it. Yes, her late husband had oftentimes waved away the little matters, but in her eyes, the ones still clouded with grief, the realm needed wisdom, something Aemond, still so young and reckless, did not possess.

“Marriage will change him,” Larys offered, though he did not look at her. It was like he was willing his words into existence, as if he did not yet believe it himself, “with characters like him it always does. This Rosaleen Blackwood might just quell his flames, just enough for him to lend his ear to us.”

Alicent glanced back at the servant who pried the doors open, “Prince Aemond, Your Grace.”

And there, he entered, the dark of his green doublet so dark it was near-black. This was the way he preferred it, since the war was done. Loyal to his family, of course, but edging dangerously into neutrality, favouring his own cause above the welfare of the little members of his house he had left. His details were intricate, winding and choking against his chest in an array of deep golds and shimmering yellow. He wore his hair as he always had, but Alicent could not only see, but smell the way oils had been lathered to his lengths. It was a scent she could not place, one that did not feel like Aemond, but one she was willing to accept as the Aemond he wished to be from now on.

Her expression gave away little, as usual. He walked like he had nowhere in the realm better to be, and she as his mother could see the tiredness in his gait. He hadn’t slept. And if he had, it had been restless and fitful. He was like that even as a babe. Alicent looked him over head to toe, and let her chest deflate. It was indeed a day of happiness, of stability, but confronted with the idea of letting her last child slip away, she felt a dead heaviness in her chest. 

She gestured for Lord Larys to leave with an annoyed gesture of her head, aggravated he had not taken the hint yet already and pulled his broken body to his feet. And it was only when the doors were closed behind him, and mother and son were left alone, that she spoke.

“How do you feel?” she asked, forcing a brightness to her tone.

Aemond seemed to search the walls for the words, “I feel we are preparing more for a funeral than a wedding.”

Alicent sighed, lips pulled into a thin line, “do you think she feels the same?”

“How am I to know.”

Aimless, he gravitated towards the pitcher of wine, pouring himself a cup and swallowing with a determined gulp in less than a second. She watched him, thinking at that moment, he looked so much like Aegon it hurt her heart to see.

Alicent stepped forward, reaching up to pull a loose strand of silver from his shoulder, “you did not sleep.” An observation, not a question. One Aemond did not deny.

“It is an important day.”

“You think of her,” Alicent noted, “the witch.”

“You would rather I didn’t,” he turned his face to look down at his mother, the muscle in his jaw tight, “then I will disappoint you, mother. Not an unwelcome feeling I am sure.”

She sighed, having hoped for a different outcome. How long had it been since Aemond had been snatched from that lake? How long since Alys Rivers had fled? Had the child existed at all, or was it a cruel twist of the truth to ensure her safety alongside tumultuous Targaryens.

“There are still whispers. Still speculation. Some say she bewitched you. Others that you fathered a child by her. And now, you’re to marry a daughter of the Riverlands, while rumors from the Riverlands remain unburied.”

Alicent’s expression flickered, pain, maybe, or guilt, but it passed quickly. She turned from him, walking slowly across the room to a nearby chair but did not sit. “I had hoped,” she said quietly, “that you would bury her with the war. That when the Gods Eye consumed her and all that madness, the last thread tying you to her would burn with it.”

“She is gone.”

“There was no corpse. No other-wordly scream. Only blood and ash. And you, dragged half to death from those wretched waters.”

He said nothing. He had no desire to recount that night, not again.

Alicent continued, her voice trembling slightly with restrained contempt. “And if there was a child, Aemond–”

“If there was,” he cut in sharply, “it is gone now.”

Silence fell. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. And for the first time he was thankful for the servant’s interruption.

“My Prince, it is time.”

Aemond held his hand up, a rare gesture of deference. His mother looked up also at the young servant, as if remembering when one had said those same words to her all those years ago, when she was wed to a Targaryen. As if by looking their way, she could erase the moment and spare her son this day. He was to be a husband today. She had attended one wedding before for her children, and Aemond would be the last. And that alone was enough to make Alicent Hightower’s heart ache with loss.

Aemond hated that look. One of pity that he didn't need. As if he were still a boy who needed her touch.

“She will walk alone,” Alicent began in a tired breath, “her father should be here. It is a failure on his part.”

Aemond's jaw tensed. “Lord Blackwood is ill.”

“It does not change how it will be perceived,” Alicent fiddled with her sleeves, “she walks unaccompanied, you do not think some will see this as some sort of…revolt?”

Revolt? As if Lady Rosaleen walking her last short path of unmarried life alone would incite rebellion? He had never heard anything so foolish.

“Better she walk alone than invite some lesser male escort to do so alongside her. Would you rather have Benjicot fucking Blackwood come? A mere child who weeps at the sight of war.”

She sighed, closing her eyes as if to find the will. “That is not what I mean and you know it.”

“And must there always be some ulterior motive?”

“You are young. Too willing to overlook the meaning behind her actions.”

Aemond hummed. “Or perhaps you see threats where there are none.”

He watched her carefully, as her fists clenched, golden rings digging into the meat of her palm. She was frustrated. What a way to begin his wedding morning. 

“You have always underestimated the gentler sex around you, Aemond.”

He raised his hand to adjust his eye patch, ensuring it would not budge during the ceremony, letting out a humourless laugh. “And yet you expect me to control this one? A stiff backed Blackwood?”

“She is to be your wife,” Alicent replied, “that must mean something.”

It means control. Aemond knew that better than anyone. Was this truly the only way she knew how to love?

Perhaps this indifference he was to be offered through Rosaleen would surely be better than the iron grip of his mother's so-called ‘love’. And now she wishes for him to do the same to a woman who is not yet his wife. 

You have always underestimated the gentler sex around you, Aemond.

Unbidden, his mind thrashed with another dark haired woman he had taken to bed. It felt like a lifetime ago now. She had told him he would rule. And he had believed her. Believed he had rewarded her with taking her to his bed, for her protection of course. Nothing more.

Not because he felt as if he would die before fucking another woman.

His mother said nothing more as she followed him to the Sept, once arriving at the front before the Septon, every now and then she adjusted the collar of his doublet. Her protective instincts high and alert. Clinging to her only surviving child as if he could give her all the validation in the realm. The Sept was alive with whispers, murmuring of the colours the bride would wear, the temperament of the husband to be and the grandeur of the ornaments and decoration.

The great doors opened with a long, exasperated groan. Mirroring what Aemond himself felt. The golden light that was so hidden away suddenly flooded all those in attendance, and their silence was all that was needed. Murmurs quieted to nothing. Only the ruffle of clothing, the soft, unsure footsteps of light footed ladies and the clinking of the Kingsguard armour were heard.

Aemond had prepared himself, schooled his expression for this moment. Or so he'd thought, as he turned halfway to glance down the great, cavernous hall. Yes, Alysanne and Arianne were stood before her, but even he could not deny as could anyone else, Rosaleen Blackwood looked beautiful.

She was draped like artwork in pure crimson. Dark hair was pinned with silver and pearl. And at her throat, rested the necklace he had gifted her, proud and gold.

Her two cousins lead the ceremony before her. Alysanne was dressed in a pale grey, embroidery adorned with silver. However her expression, as usual, was proud and unbothered, reflective of her tight, dark Blackwood curls. She barely spared Aemond a look as she floated past, though he had no doubt that she would have made some snide remark had the situation allowed.

Ever proud and unbothered. 

Arianne followed, meek and softer. Her steps lighter and more graceful, almost too carefully taken. Her bright blue eyes flickered to Aemond for a moment, wide, searching, but looked away almost as quick with a brief, but polite, nod of her head. 

And the truth of the matter could no longer be ignored, this union to Blackwood blood his offspring would also share. He had agreed to this match because it had been necessary. Because the Riverlands needed to be brought back into the fold. Because the council had forced his hand. But he could not ignore the truth of what it meant. The Blackwoods had been loyal to the Pretender.

Alysanne herself had fought against him at Battle at Lakeshore. The girl had fought, bow and arrow in hand, with all the ferocity of a true Blackwood warrior. She had killed for Rhaenyra. She had stood on the losing side and refused to bend the knee until she had no other choice.

And now, she walked down the aisle before him as part of his wife’s retinue, her chin lifted, her loyalty forced by political necessity, but her spirit unbroken.

Perhaps this unyielding ferocity is what made the Blackwoods as they are today. Perhaps this is what made them worthy.

And finally. Rosaleen.

The absence of her father or any male relative did not sit at her back like a shadow, rather it made a silhouette of her, cutting through the atmosphere in her gown as bright as a blacksmith’s iron. And yet she moved with practised grace. Those deep eyes never strayed from him, not once. She must have heard as he did, the whispers of Lords and Ladies as she made her journey to him.

She wore deep red, as he would have expected no less. Red, yes. But which. Was it Targaryen crimson, a surrender to her circumstance? Or Blackwood blood. The appearance of a docile wife, while inside she clung to such pride of her birth, no matter her husband.

Whatever it was, it unsettled him. But all the same, she looked striking, commanding. 

Why does she walk alone?

Where is her father?

Surely there was a male relative to escort her.

If Aemond had glanced behind him, he would see his mother’s discontent. He knew her good opinion, that this was rebellion of sorts. That she was displaying that even if she joined her house with his, that she would always be her own.

But if this was rebellion, Rosaleen Blackwood made it look like a coronation.

Aemond extended his hand as she reached the small steps to ascend beside him, and her eyes did not waver as she slipped her hand in his. For Aemond knew the look of fear well, how it lowered their gaze, bent their shoulders. He had seen much of it. Blackwood and Targaryen stood facing, finally. Aemond’s single eye took her in fully, the faint flush to her cheeks, the way her lips flattened in an attempt of holding composure and how she took a deep, measured breath.

Rosaleen was unafraid, and perhaps he feared that most.

He turned towards the Septon who had been waiting, and gave a small nod. The man was thin, his voice reflecting his reedy stature, rising barely above the hushed whispers. 

“Today, before the Seven and in the sight of gods and men, we unite Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, blood of the dragon, and Lady Rosaleen of House Blackwood, blood of the First Men. May their union bring strength and prosperity to the realm, and may their vows be honoured for all time.”

He felt the twitch of Rosaleen’s fingers.

And as if reading her mind in a manner to make her discomfort worse, the Septon turned to her. “will you swear before the gods to honour and serve your lord husband, to share his burdens and stand beside him through illness and hardship?”

She wet her lips before responding, clear, “I will.”

Then Aemond. “And will you swear before the gods to honour and protect your lady wife, to stand beside her in strength, to bind your fates as one?”

“I will.”

The vows hung in the air, but both understood it was only merely half over. And yet, they could not be taken back. The cloak Aemond had made for the ceremony complimented her gown well enough, enveloping the scarlet against deep Targaryen black and crimson. It darkened her figure with weight at her shoulders.

The Septon’s wrinkled hands lifted, gesturing for the ceremonial ribbon that would bind their wrists together. The ribbon was deep red, interwoven with threads of gold and black, a tapestry of legacy and tradition. As the Septon began to wrap it around their joined hands, Aemond caught the faint flicker of something in Rosaleen’s eyes but could not say what it was.

As the final knot was tied, the Septon raised his voice once more. “In the eyes of the gods, let this union be made whole. By oath and honour, let no man set asunder what has been joined here today.”

The ribbon fell away, but their hands remained entwined.

And when the old man instructed that he might kiss her now, to seal their sacred bond, Aemond felt his blood rush to his ears as if he were once again drowning in Gods Eye Lake. He does not know why his throat constrained so at the thought, Rosaleen was not his choice, of course, but equally not unattractive, even when he looked upon her lips, framed by that quiet defiance.

The kiss was neither hesitant nor overly gentle. And she met it with the same.

And when they drew apart, the Sept erupted with applause and cheer. When was the last time they had heard such happiness? To Aemond, she was his wife, and that could not be undone. Yet, to Rosaleen, she was not yet his wife until she bled on the white sheets of his chambers. A mark that would need to be seen, and at the same time, scrubbed off in shame into insignificance.

Allowing the rush of applause to weaken their hushed voices, Rosaleen exhaled, “how do you feel, now it is done?”

However innocent the question, she was prodding. Measuring him, already. He felt, bound, wed. Uncertain. None of which he wanted to voice. “I feel the court witnessed exactly what they wished to see.”

A non-answer. An answer that communicated more to her in that moment than any of what he’d said before. He did not think about them, he thought only of what everyone else had perceived of them. What this would mean for the realm. Perhaps he thought she was prodding, too deeply and close to his core. When really, she had only wished to peer into the mind of the man who was now, in name also, her husband.

Whether he saw it in her face or not, he said nothing more. And his hands slipped from hers without effort.

✨ Please note ✨ I no longer do taglists. If you would updates, please follow @targaryenrealnessdarlingfics and turn on notifications!

[lovelipton]

Chapter 4

Smut warning: Masterbat!on.

It seemed a betrayal to imagine her. It was an unfair thing to lust for.

He grabbed the oil jug from atop his fire place, taking it to his night stand, coating his fingers as he sat down, trying to conjure up any other image.

The blood orange smell had lingered on him, adding to the difficulty of the situation. The tallow oil smelled like her hair. Perhaps he should ask a maid, at least one would be willing. The thought back to their lingering touches and wanting stares during his bath, pretty girls, older than his companion, their pale hands gliding over him with a wet cloth, how his hand slid down the girls back, how the smell could take him back if he gave in.

He stopped himself, mindlessly grabbing his neglected cock with the oiled hand, trying his best ignore his thoughts. He slid his hand, in the same memorized way from his youth and tried his best to be quick.

He thought about his wife, the salt air the first time he had her, a time where it was need and not want, the feeling of her thigh against his hand, her mouth on his. When she was younger, all those years ago in the brothel.

His hand picked up speed, he felt himself building to the needed climax. His head arched back, lost in older memory. He stroked his tip, grunting with his dependence on the budding release.

The stench of stale ale in the air, the mindless interlocked bodies her eyes pulled to. Nettles eyes would pull like that to any new thing shown to her, the ale was polluted with the stale wine.

If he stopped now he wouldn’t finish,  he was a man lost to his urges. His mind flashed to her, half dressed, undressed, licking her lips, laughing and looking up at him, mouth ajar for what ever reason. It felt wrong to imagine, he tried to think to anything else but a memory of her would cloud his mind and judgement for what was right. All he knew was what he needed to do. He was almost there.

He grunted with each stroke, on the brink of his anticipation paying off. He heard the knock at the door and couldn’t answer. He leaned into himself, tugging away mindlessly. The oranges danced with his building sweat. A coating covered him as he drew near than he had been in months, her round breast, revealed itself from her raven coils, he could taste his peak.

He could hear her calling his name, through their door, he didn’t know if he was half conjuring it.

“Daemon?”

His peak came with the swing of their door, a curious call of his name and a strained grunt at her intrusion.

“Sorry, Your Grace.”

Ever quick, she recognized his state, wide eyed to be sure with a quick apology and pulling the door back shut, he was past the point where he could stop himself. He dropped his cock as it spurted over the floor, the immediate guilt and relief flooding him together.

He placed his hands at either side of him, nearly delirious with the relief of his expectation, he steadied himself and recognized where he was, what he had done to get there, almost angered by the new clarity.

He could apologize to her to her enough to justify it, he had to apologize to her now for what happened. The door wasn’t locked on his insistence to his side, he should’ve spoken to send her away. He felt no control over it all, a deep desire settled in his soul over it.

He stood up hazily and got dressed, wiping the sweat off his skin and rinsing away all the musk that had developed in its arrival. He knocked the door of and searched her room to find it empty and unmade. He closed the door and made his way to breakfast through his room, he had no desire to see the state he left his in.

He felt hollow as he made his way to the dinning area, unwilling to face the myriad of emotions he could anticipate from her, he doubted he would look less that guilty at her, her face changing into something more desired now.

He walked in on her, in deep conversation with Maester Norren and Lord Mooton, she’s the first to recognize him in the room.

She stands as he would expect, a glimpse of shyness lingered in her expression, avoiding his eyes entirely, preserving her serious expression as the others join her greeting. He made his way at her side. They all sat together, going into a less intense version of the previous conversation , she refused to meet his eyes.

“You should ask him now that he’s here. Perhaps you’ll listen to him.”

She was never impolite, if she was angry her tone would say but she simply sounded flustered, with the same restrained anger she met him with more often than not.

“What is your request my Lord?” He stared at the fat country Lord, seemingly caught up in the throws of the previous conversation. He looked towards the girl, who focused intently on the porridge in front of her, idling herself by playing with it, breathing deeply to calm herself.

He wondered if she had cared about what she saw, if his worry would even matter after he heard what the Lord said, it didn’t seem to impact her day as much as he had.

“I’m simply curious about the possibility of you both splitting up, to find Vhagar and cover the Riverlands with your protection.”

He could feel his anger rise with the closing of the statement, seeing why there was need for the argument in the first place.

Did he think they sat on dragon back each day to waste time?

That they simply enjoyed the others reactions to the piles of bodies they’d stack every other week?

He felt Nettles heat leave her as he restated what seemed to be the same conversation to him. She was as anxious as she was angry.

 The girl couldn’t sleep for so long, at least having someone near her, making sure she would was a comfort. He doubted whether she would eat alone or take care of her self without his insistence. She drank herself to peace just the last night.

His grand plan never made her a causality, he recalled. She’d always go back to Rhaenyra’s side as he went after Vhagar. Even as a suggestion the girl was in danger by herself against Vhagar. No one dragon could stand alone against her.

He gripped the knife in his hand tightly, trying his best to rationalize his anger before he spoke. Did he think the girl was here in jest for company alone?

He felt a warm thing grab his thigh, shifting his demeanor to confusion , he looked down then up at her, a weary expression trying to reassure him, in some small attempt to quell a dragon’s tendency. He could feel himself calm, wondering if she used the same method on Sheepstealer before.

He turned back to the scared Lord, resting the knife down before he responded.

“It would be a useless feat, no dragon alone would stand against Vhagar, even I need someone at my side to make sure I return. Her grace is very adamant on that front.”

She moved her hand back to herself and he felt the warmth leave him, almost hostile in its departure.  Her food busied her as the conversation continued, over breakfast, entailing small notes about the following steps towards a quicker end to his nephew.

He checked on her throughout the conversation, sometimes justifying it by making sure she took note of certain places, other times to ensure her presence, just to gage her reaction. By the time they were done he was sure he had paid her more attention, against his better judgment.

“We will leave you both to discuss further, Your Grace.” The Maester stated before departing behind his Lord, it couldn’t have been after nine when he and Netty were finally left alone.

She was wearing a Targaryen red dress, truly made for court, she found a way to make it look like an appropriate dress for the occasion, it dipped low like a King’s Landing style he noted before turning away with he thought, entirely.

“Did you finish?” The question sounded common place out of her mouth , for a moment he felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.

His expression caused her to muffle a laugh, and he found, hearing the air leave her as well. For a moment, they waited for their composure to wash over them before the conversation flowed.

“I seem to have taken to making a fool of myself with you. I owe you my apology.” In a better light, he’d see it as a just remark to make, but even the knowledge that she had helped him to finish seemed wrong. The only comfort was that she didn’t know.

“ I think it is a new talent. You did avoid the notice entirely.” She said, stifling a laugh. He recalled the morning before, and he looked for the cut to explain the blood from a young lady. He seemed to lose his sense around her. He remembered how her voice sounded half fantastical at that time, the expanding of her in his thoughts.

“I was caught off guard, to be clear. Then the last conversation made me see red, I could imagine how you felt.”

The fire her hand stoked had yet to disappear, being around her seemed secretive and new. Her scent seemed alluring, her easy smile entranced him, so surely, he thought, he could breathe her like life itself.

“It’s done now, you have the day to recover.”

It was cruel, he thought, to desire her when he’d barely earned her trust. He only just started to see glimmers of the light Jace had written about. Had it not been for the prolonged and hollow description of her appearance, he would’ve thought the boy had half fallen for her. Now, he understood why the words felt the way they did, appearance or otherwise.

“You and Jace were close?”

He regretted it the moment he asked. He saw the way she transformed at the mention of his name, seeing her reaction to it, like someone had stabbed her through the heart.  She dropped the spoon for her food and rationalized the question. He wished he could move from it all together.

“He looked out for me, more than he did for the others.” Her voice lacked any emotion, like she was keeping a secret about them from him. Had he known either of them else, he would’ve thought he stumbled onto an affair.

“That was nice of him. He wrote fondly about you.” He held the goblet of watered wine to his lips as she gazed off to the side. He wanted to go back to the people they were before.

“He liked to care. One of the better traits he had. He’d get angry like you. That was a worse one.” He heard the hint of a smile, but her words hit him hard now. Jace was argumentative, never really taking to him like a father, more so a ward, more so an uncle, he supposed.

They had a shared grief over him over Viserys, and even as she seemed to close herself off from the emotion it caused, she cared enough to allow for the understanding. He knew he had taken to all the children in her own strange way, but even now, it seemed the first time he shared his grief rather than felt it alone. It had torn at Rhaenyra, he recalled, a mention of what they had lost would take her away from court, a sentiment he couldn’t share with her.

“I should go check on the dragons, I’m sure they’ll be glad for the break.” She stood up, distant and monotone, excusing herself without his response, walking away with the warmth. She left him cold and almost desperate.

He’d heard from the shepherds that she’d whistle to call Caraxes. In another light, it seemed as though they were singing through the whistling. She wouldn’t miss a day without feeding her dragon,  flying or not, dragons bend easier when fed.

Perhaps they understood each other better than he could imagine, they’d understand being hungry, he supposed, from her eating habits, it was a way to show love, to bond with such a new relationship.  The first rider of an eighty year old dragon was a big feat for such a small girl.

The rest of their day was spent apart until dinner. She had gone to Jonquil’s pool, a famously dangerous place for Targaryens, stopping by to announce it and then disappearing altogether for the evening period.

He lost himself in the letters, distracting himself from what now seemed like his worst impulse, responding to Lords who wished for protections, Lords who needed aid and the Lords at court who seemed to worry about the Queen, succession and all the things he was less glad to be away from now.

He was mapping out the route for them to take in the following days, when he heard the mouse of her presence. He called out twice to no response before their door eased open, an unkempt head of hair meeting him before her eyes did, a glimmer of light meeting him after the daunting day.

“How are you?”

 He asked, looking at the blue evening dress coming into view, hugging her frame as she made her way to him. He preferred her in red.

“It was fine, no murder attempt.” The ease from before still had yet to take back her voice, a trend he hoped wouldn’t continue in his presence. One he hoped he’d gain

“I should’ve gone next week, with the full moon.” In passing, she’d mention something akin to a superstition she held. He didn’t think she prayed to the seven, judging from the Septa’s reaction to her she didn’t intend to but some small beliefs held in her.

“You pray to moon gods?” He asked passively, drawing out a trivial conversation , just to stay with her for a while, before they went back to the day to day.

“A little faith is always good. I suppose Targaryens would believe in themselves.”  He looked up at her, comprehending the jab before returning to the map across his table.

“Then you should try it, unlike other Gods, your dragon will never disappoint you.” Unlike her Dragonstone bred peers, she never clung to the idea that she was a Targaryen. Unlike Addam and Alyn, she never claimed to be Laenor’s spawn or a Velayron.

She was simply a dragon rider, almost insulting the legacy of Targaryens with the refusal. It seemed more interesting than ill meaning, to him at least. What girl did not want to be a Targaryen?

“I wouldn’t prefer it, you’ve grown around men for too long, it makes the faith less believable.” 

He smiled down at his map, trying his best to avoid her quick remark towards his suggestion. He decided to deflect from it all together.

“You should sleep better tonight, or you can have the maester make you a sleeping drought.”

He could feel his heart rise at the mention. She still hadn’t told him about her lack of sleep. Her history at Maidenpool with Milk of The Poppy or the sleeping drought wasn’t more than a secret understanding he could never uncover.  Thankfully, she seemed unconcerned with the suggestion.

“I slept a while last night, I’m sure it’ll be better tonight.”

He recalled the dark bags under her eyes, the redden gaze that met his, the dirt from the day caked on her until this morning. He wondered if she would lie to him so carelessly, he glanced at her to see a look of understanding on her face. Perhaps she had forgotten, like with the Poppy milk.

“You didn’t look well rested?” He quirked an eyebrow to her, wanting to absolve her of the misunderstanding.

“I had a bad dream. I got up and couldn’t go back to sleep, hence the wine and tired look.” She fumbled with her hands, avoiding his look with the newly revealed information.

“The wine isn’t acceptable, I’d prefer the drought.” He sounded like his father the first time he visited Dragonstone after his wedding to his first Lady wife.

“ It wasn’t to sleep, I just..” She stopped herself, drawing his full attention to her now, this was a new conversation they had gone too.

“I just wanted to get rid of the thought of the dream, to lose some control over hearing the same thing repeatedly.”

She sounded like him when he justified his drinking to his grandmother after the wedding. He should wait, he knew he shouldn’t push to far with her, he’d get less understanding if she closed off entirely. The thought that she could be opening up was too tempting to ignore through, the hope she’d put the trust in him was pulling him like a tide to follow the conversation.

“What was the dream?”

 He sat down looking up at her, she seemed delicate with the candlelight around her. She was  water in his hands, he was scared to let go of her, for the first time they were as close has they had been because of her.

“ Nothing truly, I’m just a stupid girl who can’t quiet the stupid questions in her mind.”

Corlys had guessed that she was no older than ten and six, according to his ship mistress, she was a child on Driftmark with the others. He still had never heard her call herself a girl, now, she never seemed to capture the word well. He guessed she’d been an adult for longer that she was a child on the streets Addam claimed she resided on.

“What could be so bad?” It was half a plea to her, half a question for himself, what had plagued her thoughts so bad she’d need to escape her mind.

“I’ve been like the people we aid longer than I’ve been a dragon rider.” His shock from her answering the question couldn’t be concealed but she barely looked at him as she confessed her plight, he could only listen.

“They drop like flies, while I’m hunting the largest dragon alive, it doesn’t seem likely that I survive it.”

Her confession felt like someone had slapped him, she was almost mouse like now, quite in the space she held, dimming her own light, allowing the darkness to shine.

“I promised you..” He began forming some response, some sense of understanding in what she said, a comfort he’d given himself at the thought of her in danger, in that situation.

“ Yesterday, men clung to me begging for their lives to end, fathers and sons alike. Bigger and stronger than I’ve ever been. Terrified and dying because of the only thing that makes them not like me.”

Her voice was distorted with the anger and sadness that possessed her, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so open with him.

He’d give her whatever he could. He was never more sure that she’d never fight Vhagar.

“It was too much , all at once but I’m fine now.” He hadn’t hidden his demeanor, the divisive anger that guided his action. He had just wed at her age, she had a lifetime ahead of her, like Jace and Luke, like Viserys. She had children, chaos and adventures , written in her spirit.

It seemed a cruelty for her to doubt it.

“I meant my promise to you, Netty.”

He stared at her, catching her fallen gaze before it met his, staring past her, if she could trust him, even for a moment now, all would be well worth it.

“You’ll have a lifetime for yourself, I swear on Caraxes.”

 She chuckled at the implication, seeing it as no more than a false comfort to pull her out of her doubt. She probably had a lifetime of promises from men just like him. He had never meant anything more though, he could feel the promise seal into his very bones.

“It is all well now, Daemon. No need to drag Caraxes into nightmares.” She was joking, he felt as though he’d gotten too serious now. She’d retract the new position she held him in if he pushed anymore, he’d settle for her contentment now. His plan seemed to settle more together than ever now.

“Very well.” He stated as she sat down next to him. He informed her about their mission to Pink Maiden, then to track where he might go from there to try to ambush him. She was quiet for the rest of the conversation.

They ate in his room that night, a simple meal of Acorn soup , with small conversation about packing between them. He felt almost mad looking for a difference in her demeanor with him, waiting to see if the confession had changed anything between them, with a resounding no by the end. She was content with it between them and moving along as though it hadn’t existed at all. He felt trapped in a desert with no water around him as they finished.

She wished him a good night and closed the door behind her shortly after the meal. He was a deranged man he thought. The thoughts left him half mad, devouring him until he had to put it away.

Tomorrow would be a new day for him hopefully.

[raffinit]

Sylvaina // 8. Regency AU - Person A inheriting Person B’s father’s estate and the only way to keep Person B’s family out of the poor house is for Person B to marry Person A.

I’M SORRY THIS IS SO TERRIBLE IT’S TERRIBLE I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO REGENCY

I’M SORRY IT’S SO SHORT BUT IF I START IT, IT’LL NEVER FINISH

@saudadedreams

------

It was as bleak a day as one would expect for a funeral. Upon the shores, they gathered; the hanging clouds overhead wept as much as her mother, who clung to her arm with pallid fingers and eyes rimmed red. Her own eyes ached viciously with what precious little tears she had shed during the service, for she was a Proudmoore, and Proudmoores carried themselves with the dignity expected of their station.

She was a Proudmoore. One of the last few now.

The priest finished the rites; her mother detached from her side and reached for the torch held in his hand.

The torch flickered and flared as a wild gust of wind came with the tides, but the straw bedding lit. The fire rose into a roaring blanket heat in moments, and her father’s men heaved the boat from the shore. By the time the boat had sailed towards the horizon, it was nothing more than flames.

In the distance somewhere, the church bell tolled.

-----

That evening, a storm swept onto the shore with the tides. The darkened sky split open with a violence that shook the windows on their panes and rattled all that moved. The servants and maids scurried through the halls like the frenzied nest of rats from the larder, armed with candlesticks and oil lamps as they clamoured among themselves to nail down windows and shutters.

She sat with her mother by the hearth of the study, the fire blazing amidst great splits of wood. The smell of the sea crept in through the seams of the windows and the cracks of the doors; earth and brine and embers together. She sat and sipped on a toddy, warm between her cradled hands as she stared into the dancing flames.

She should have known, truly; what the storm would have wrought. As the servants bustled and shouted, and more feet thundered down the hallways to the main doors. She looked up at the doorway, apprehension curled tight like a boulder in her belly as the doors to the study creaked open.

“Deepest apologies, my lady,” their butler said, bowing low. “I do not mean to intrude. But the Lord Greymane, Esquire, has come.”

“Send him in,” her mother said wearily. “Bring him a towel, and perhaps a hot toddy the same. Quickly now; before the storm takes him as well.”

She frowned, and the warmth of liquor loosened her tongue to speak. “Can’t he leave us to grief but for a day? Surely the will can wait.”

“Jaina,” her mother chided. “Such things cannot wait for even the earth to settle on most graves. It cannot wait for your father’s body to turn to ash.” She watched her mother lean back into the chair and drink, watched the grief manifest in shadows. “Your brothers are dead, and now your father. We are all we have left in this world, my darling girl. You and I alone.”

Jaina reached out and clung to her mother’s hand with the same desperation of a child frightened from its bed. “Mother —”

Lord Greymane appeared then, with the chill of the outdoors nipping at his heels. He shook the damp from his hair and brushed it from his coats as a servant girl came to him with a towel. “You must pardon me for such rudeness, Lady Katherine,” he said, with a look of deep contrition. “For my appearance and appearance. I would not have pressed the matter had I been given the choice.”

“Sit, Lord Greymane,” Katherine Proudmoore replied. “Warm yourself. We must speak.”

Lord Greymane warmed himself briskly by the fire, hands outstretched against the flames. “I shan’t dither on the matter; you must already have a notion of why I am here.”

“Yes,” replied her mother quietly. “The will.”

There was a grimness in his face that unsettled Jaina; she set her glass aside lest she tumble it from her hands. “Which brother did he leave it to, then?” she asked, though her mother’s reproach was clear in the look she received. “Let us be frank, Lord Greymane. You have been my father’s lawyer for many years. You are but family now. We are in the privacy of our home. Let’s not stand of propriety where it isn’t needed.”

Sighing, the Lord Greymane turned to her with a saddened look of fondness she often saw in her own father’s eyes. “‘Tis true; I cannot bring myself to keep this from you for longer. My dearest Katherine, my heart aches for you, and my mind rages. But it is as it has been signed — Proudmoore Estate has been sold.”

Katherine gasped, though the sound itself was swallowed by a ravenous thunder from beyond the walls. “S-sold —”

“If it would ease your mind to know that your lord husband has bequeathed a generous sum to support you and your daughter —”

She could not comprehend it. There were words still coming from her father's lawyer's mouth — for she could certainly see it moving still — but there was nought that she took to comprehension.

Jaina shook her head incredulously. “I don't understand. This land has been in our family for years!”

“The laws of perpetuity are as such, my lady. As it is, the new landlord has proof of purchase and surrender of the estate and all its worldly possessions therein —”

“Oh, Daelin,” her mother moaned. “How could you?”

“That can't be right. M-my brothers —”

“God rest their souls —”

“They wouldn't have allowed it!” She rose from her seat and stared at Lord Greymane with a wild, frenzied desire to throttle the man. Were she of perhaps a daughter of lower birth; were she perhaps a daughter of the village grocer, perhaps she might not have a need at all to throttle him.

But she was not. She was a Proudmoore.

Lord Greymane gave her a chastened shrug, peering at her mother. “Unfortunately, Lady Proudmoore, the decision was beyond their control. Proudmoore Estate was signed by perpetuity only to your father's line...from your great-grandfather. In light of which, the Proudmoore line can no longer hold these lands to their family name. Proudmoore Estate has exchanged hands.”

She swayed on her feet and sank down onto the chaise, clinging desperately to anything that would keep her afloat. “Who,” she whispered. “Who is the new master of our home?”

“...The Windrunners.”

------

Amidst the weight of silence and storms, she spoke, no louder than a whisper. “What do we do?”

Katherine Proudmoore turned to look at her daughter, the seafoam of her eyes dim with grief. “What can we do?”

Lord Greymane reached for a stack of parchments tucked within a pocket of his coat. “I’m sure if we discuss this with Lord Windrunner, he would be amenable to having you as tenants —”

“Tenants?” Jaina cried. “In our own home? Preposterous!”

Sharply, Katherine said, “What would you have us do? Beg for our living in the slums? Die penniless with our family name buried at sea with your father?”

“How do I stop this?” she beseeched Greymane. “Surely there must be a way.”

Lord Greymane peered at her, shifting the weight on the balls of his feet with discomfort. “Well, there is, of course, marriage —”

She thrust out her chin defiantly. “Then I shall wed a Windrunner. If he be willing.”

“My lady —”

“I care not to whom I give my hand. Whether he be as old as the very earth this home stands, or whether he be crass and unkind and uncouth —”

“Jaina!” her mother cried.

She continued, no matter the tremble in her hands or the terror building in her spine. “I shall be a second wife — a third. A mistress. I care not. I shall bear him a hundred sons —”

“N-now —” Lord Greymane reached out a hand in the air between them. “That would be unnecessary —”

She met his gaze with a steely one, daring him to speak more. “So long as my family shall always have a place here.”

“It is a woman,” he blurted, and the room went still. “A daughter. Lord Windrunner bequeathed this land to his second daughter. His only heir worth the title now, with two daughters married.”

Her belligerence would not settle, no matter the shock. A woman would be easier to speak reason to, surely; and no doubt a woman of sound mind and logic, if this Windrunner is heir — “I would wed her regardless,” she said boldly. “I am my father’s last living child. I am, in God’s eyes if not the law’s, his only living heir. If she can inherit, then I shall do so the same. Whether it be by blood or by marriage.”

“You must surely understand the weight of your declarations,” Greymane murmured. “If I propose this, and she refuses —”

“She will not,” Jaina proclaimed. “I shall make it so.”

[melmedardasworld]

We’re safe | Shane Walsh

Author’s Note: This is my first reader attempt ever and since I wanted to write some for Shane, I went ahead and did it. I actually wanted to do a story for Shane and a black OC, but I like this better. Let me know what you think and enjoy!

Summary: No real plot, just an excuse to do write some smut. But reader and Shane dated before the apocalypse, but it didn’t work out. After months of surviving and fighting together they realize that they do, in fact, have stronger feelings for each other. 

Pairing: Shane Walsh x reader (woc)

Warnings: smut, Shane’s sexy ass, light angst

“We’re safe.” Shane assured with a nod of the head, watching you turn into his hand when he gently stroked his fingers across your cheek. Holding his hand you kissed the palm of it sweetly before looking up at him, a smile lighting up your face, “thanks to you.”

Shane stared into your eyes, finding himself unable to pull away. Somehow, simply by being here with him, you had saved him once more, and he knew he’d never doubt you or distrust you.

It was special, unique, the stuff he’d only ever heard about in stories. You were his safe haven and he knew without you ever having to say a word, you felt the same way. What the two of you have now went beyond words, beyond feelings and emotions to something much more.

In spite of being a pain in the ass and thorny with your remarks, without you filtering out the insanity and this dark path Shane had been heading down to would be so much more aimless. Shaking his head, Shane fought away thoughts of Lori and Rick. The guilt and shame of what he’d gotten himself into and instead chose to focus on the here and now.

“Nah… that back there. That was you too Y/N. I knew you’d be there to handle it all, but you being here with me now… that’s everything.” He closed his eyes and turned, reaching for his pants. You watched Shane curiously. It took a few moments for you to see it, but as Shane turned and held it out, tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill. There in his hand, the edges stained in blood, was your Medical ID badge. The one you had with you in your previous life.

Taking it between your fingers you shook your head and a quick smile ghosted on your full. “I don’t even know why I took it with me. It wouldn’t help anyway.” You said, looking back up at him, “I wasn’t even on shift that day, because I was prepsring for my baby girl’s birthday. I remember looking at it when we started to pack our bags and everything. I took it with me out of reflex, not really thinking.” You put the badge aside, leaning over Shane to put it on top of the dresser next to the bed.

“I should have left with you…” Shane’s voice was raw with emotion as he clasped your hand between his, guilt shining brightly in his chestnut eyes. Quickly though, you shook her head unaware he wasn’t just carrying guilt for the past, but guilt of what he’d been thinking and doing before all of this.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” You told him, a hand reaching up to gently graze against his stubbled .cheek. Shane closed his eyes and leaned into you, fighting away the guilt he felt.

“I thought I lost you!” He whispered, wrapping his arms around you body, pulling you in and hugging you closer to his solid form. Words failed him when he tried to explain how happy he was, they even failed him when he tried to explain how thankful of he was of you with him now.

Shane felt the shift in the air, your body as you parted your thighs, straddling his lap, settling either side of his powerful hips at his unspoken request. Your lips meeting in a slow yet deliberate kiss, his calloused hands cupping your face.

Shane allowed his tongue to trace the shape of your full lips before he dipped inside your mouth, seeking out your unique, lovable taste. Your kisses chased away the dark clouds, which had hovered over his head like a storm these past weeks. Your caress was blistering, as teasing fingertips traced over his athletic form, exploring the confines of his chest. His own began gliding up the length of your lean, toned thighs, hesitating as he felt the fresh scar there, but feeling you shiver against his cool touch Shane continued until he was tracing the pattern of the panties you wore beneath the large shirt.

Shane kissed you ravenously, like a man who had been dying from hunger as his desire for you began to eat him up from the inside. Shane allowed the want and passion to consume him as his hands began to caress your sensual and petite form underneath the shirt. His strokes were tender, loving and laced with such a pleasurable heat that felt like sheer bliss on your cool body. Shane allowed his fingers to draw up the blue t-shirt and over your head before he captured your lips once raining slow, breathless kisses upon it.

The skin on skin contact was glorious as the swell of your breasts pressed against his solid chest, whilst the air crackled with electricity. Your nipples were erect with arousal, causing Shane to groan into the curve of your neck his teeth grazing the sweet little spot there that he recalled drove you crazy. His strong arm circled your small waist clasping you even closer to him as he arched into you, the only barriers a simple sheet and your panties. His throbbing erection rubbed against the materials as he arched against your moist groin and the friction felt incredible, and it granted him barely a second of relief as you made that dynamic, low whimpering noise he loved so much and missed even more.

The ragged gasp that tore from your throat was a crescendo to his ears as his molten tongue flickered over the yearning bud of your pert bare nipple, drawing it into the confines of his mouth. You started to writhe against his lower body, stimulating his aching member through the thin material of the sheet. He nuzzled the space between your breasts, using his thumbs to gently tease the outline of your nipple before his mouth enclosed on the opposite nub. Your fingers and palms stroked over his head, your own falling back as a gasp escaped your swollen lips when Shane sucked it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive area.

Shane’s hands were already sliding down your curvaceous frame, to the thin band of your panties, his fingers hooking into them as he began to draw them down your legs. You pulled away reluctantly so he could remove them, standing up you allowed him to pull them down your legs, stepping out of them when you could.

Not for the first time since you met, Shane was mesmerized. There you stood in front of him, just radiant and beautiful. Your smouldering gaze was fixed on him, eyes brightened with arousal as he pulled back the sheets. His hand reached out for yours, drawing you back down onto his lap, his fingertips smoothing your curls from your eyes as you smiled adoringly at him.

Once again, Shane’s hands began roaming, touching, stroking every inch of your stunningly smooth honey-brown flesh as lips met once more. Your tongue parted his lips, exploring inside of his mouth as you slowly, almost achingly began sinking along the length of his needy cock.

Shane bit your lip, as you took him inch by antagonizing inch. The feeling of being so completed, as you joined together, filled the two of you with so much relief, and joy. This was truly what coming to a loving home felt like. The passion and desire for one another was as real and genuine as anything. It might not be love, but that could happen along the way, if this moment proved anything.

Your tightness hugged Shane tightly; drowning him in the sensation as you slowly withdrew from him again before thrusting down with the same tedious pace. Shane’s hands were on yur hips, clasping you close to him and groaning against your lips when your hands came to rest upon his strong shoulders for leverage. You moved just that little bit faster, picking up the pace enough to keep him wavering on the edge as the two of you made love. Already, Shane felt his lower back tingle, the base of his cock was beginning to pulse and hum with pleasure at his impending orgasm.

You, breathlessly smiled softly against his lips, you could feel he was close and that excited you even more. Yur own walls were already contracting around Shane as he kissed you harder, almost bruising yout lips with the force and ecstasy that was exploding like fireworks through every single nerve cell in his body. As your arms snaked over his shoulders, his own wrapped around your waist and back holding you so close to him you wondered if possible you’d fuse together, Shane could feel every breath you took as you smothered the cries erupting from his mouth with your very own.

The orgasm was intense; Shane felt his entire body giving itself over to you as you came so suddenly it surprised him. Your walls clenched around him like a tight, velvet fist draining him of everything that he was worth, as he exploded inside of your lithe body. His hips jerked as he chanted your name against your soft, swollen lips. Your heart was beating wildly against his as the two of you slowly, leisurely almost, came down from the dizzying heights of the climax. Shane felt so whole once more, being like this with you.

There was reluctance to part, but when you did, Shane lay back, pulling your body against his own; holding each other, once more as Shane gathered the covers. No words were needed right now as you looked into each other’s eyes, communicating on a deeper level. You leaned up, kissing him sweetly, lazily as your hand traced over the tattoo on his left peck. You were in complete awe of this man holding you, and thanked God you saved him.

For the first time in a long, there was no fear, no pain, no horror and no world around you. There was only Shane and you. Arguing with him had always been so easy. The two of you were like water and oil, it’s why you broke up in the old world. SO ending up in each other’s arms like this was surprising. Your current relationship with Shane fundamentally different from the past and you realized that you actually complemented each other in a way neither of you could have imagined possible.

Letting your head come to rest over Shane’s chest, listening to the soft thumping of his heart, you smiled tiredly and whispered, “we’re alright,” softly into the darkness.

Shane smiled back, his arms holding you tighter, his face buried against the top of your head, his voice barely a whisper, “yeah. We are.”

[jailynn24]

Even In The Darkness, There Is Light

This is a fiction for @ronordmann​. You asked for Dystopian AU/Locked in A Room... I really hope you like it...

Even In The Darkness, There Is Light

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

Brienne looked around at the rubble that was once a great capital. Her insides were numb as she carefully navigated around smothering rocks, pluming ash and rivers of blood. Her stomach lurched at the smell coming from all around her. She stared up at the sky. It was midday but the sun was hidden. Dark clouds- from a storm and from the still burning buildings- dominated the light.

She tried to think but her mind was stubbornly slow at coming up with anything. The world was broken, crumbling to the ground. Millions of people dead, thousands more were lost in the mess at her feet. The fire bombing was a warning- this city had angered the government for not producing enough metal for weapons. How could one do this? And how could another let them? Her heart thundered in her chest. She startled at the sound of heavy footfalls. The soldiers, known as the Ravens, were coming to round up any seen as an enemy.

Her eyes shifted quickly, looking for cover. She shouldn’t have been out. She should have known better. She moved as quickly as she could toward an old abandoned building that was barely standing. Brienne hoped that there would be a place to hide within. She was thankful for her years of hunting at her father’s side, she was light on her feet and barely made a sound as she ran for the structure.

The Raven’s voices carried louder, screaming followed as those that could not find shelter were gathered up. Her stomach lurched again. She wished for her bow. She wished to help. The fates of those taken were frightening. Some were turned into slaves, some were used for entertainment- lion and bear pits were especially amusing to the cruel government, some were killed on the spot… those were the lucky ones.

Entering the building she moved as swiftly as she could. The bricks and broken furniture made it especially hard. She knew the soldiers would search each standing place for persons hiding inside, but these men were often lazy and did not always look hard. They only needed to bring forth a couple of individuals to appease those in charge. Thinking of that made Brienne want to vomit all the more. This was tyranny at work and the people put them in power. A lack of awareness, a smart campaign and the wish for wealth had all been a factor in Bran the Broken’s raise to power.

She shivered and moved quicker. The deeper into the building she went, passing easily noticeable hiding spots- a half crumbled wall, a large hole that she could burrow in, a line of cabinets- she worried she picked wrong. They would find her soon… Her eyes widened when she turned down a narrow hall- made narrower by the piles of debris- and saw a door. She rushed over, hoping the room was not blocked. Her hand closed around the doorknob and she twisted it.

A relieved sigh escaped her lips as she yanked the door ajar and slipped inside. She pulled it closed silently and felt around in the dark for the lock, sliding it securely into place. The only sounds she could hear now was the pounding of her heart and the harshness of her breath. The room was completely devoid of light and she cursed herself for not bringing something to use for illuminating with her. Brienne backed up into the room, hoping her eyes would adjust to the darkness soon.

As she took a step back, her left foot slipped on a rock and she started to fall. Her arms swung wildly, grasping at anything that would steady her. Nothing but air met her grappling hands. She shut her eyes, which was probably stupid seeing as she couldn’t see anything anyway, and prepared herself to hit the ground- when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her. She opened her mouth to scream and a hand clapped over it.

“Don’t scream,” a male voice whispered in her ear. “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. Don’t scream or they will find us. Do you understand me?” She nodded, her eyes now wide open again. “Good.”

He released her mouth and righted her body. She tried to calm her body because she was now hyper-aware of the other person standing so close to her. Brienne turned turn face the dark shape in the dark room. He was about her height, maybe an inch or two shorter. She squinted her eyes trying to make out anything. All she saw was a shadow of a man.

“Thank you,” she whispered as softly as she could.

“You’re welcome,” the mass moved away from her and she shivered, trying to keep track of him. “The Ravens follow you?”

She shook her head and then almost slapped a hand over her face. He wouldn’t be able to see her movements. “No,” she held her arms out in front of her to understand where she was. “I got away as they were taking others.”

A hiss caught her attention as a pinpoint of light appeared in his hand. The lighter did little to illuminate the space by at least it wasn’t completely dark anymore. He turned from her and she heard a glass being lifted from metal. Suddenly the small amount of light grew as he lit the oil lantern he had. She tried not to stare at him when his face was finally seen, but it was hard. Not only was he gorgeous, but she knew him. He was one of the leaders of the resistance. Code named: Kingslayer- for his ability to get close to even the most protected.

He looked at her and she was suddenly very aware of her appearance. Ugly of face, torn clothes and a large scar on her neck and shoulder from an attack a couple months ago. She shifted under his scrutiny. He sat on some piles of rocks and waved for her to do the same. She grimaced slightly thinking that might be the most uncomfortable seat she had ever had, so she chose to sit on a small part of the floor that was clear of debris. Brienne looked around her and noticed the walls filled with vials, trinkets and scrolls. “Where are we?”

“An old abandoned museum,” he wiped at the dirt on his leg. “Learning is the first to go when a tyrant wants to oppress the masses. It’s why scholars and historians were the first to be gathered and slaughtered.” He looked at her with clear green eyes. “If people don’t know their own history, the ones in charge can change and mold it as they choose.”

“We aren’t forgetting,” she said quietly. “We remember.”

“For now,” he tilted his head. “But it will not always be the case. Unless we can cut the head of the snake and restore all that has been lost to us… or try to anyway.”

“I know you,” she told him suddenly. He narrowed his eyes. “Or I know of you. Kingslayer.”

“Jaime,” he replied. “I have always hated that code name and code names in general. If I die tomorrow, I want my name to be known, not something given to me.”

“Brienne,” her cheeks flushed. He hadn’t asked for her name and she doubted he cared. She felt so young all of the sudden. She was twenty years old but in his presence she felt like a kid. He had seen so much, done so much, lived so much more than her. Her eyes dropped to the space between them. She wished the ground would swallow her. “That’s my name,” she mumbled.

“Nice to meet you, Brienne,” he didn’t sound mocking, but she didn’t look up to see if he had a smirk on his face or not. There was an awkward silence that settled between them. She felt his eyes on her and wished even more fervently for the ground to open up or for the walls to come crashing down on her. “Not much of a conversationalist are you?”

“We are hiding,” she said, still staring at the floor. “We should be quiet.”

Brienne saw his legs move than his body eased onto the ground in front of her. She swallowed. He was extremely close, so close she could feel the heat of his body. She looked up and his eyes met hers.

“Has anyone told you you have beautiful eyes?” She felt her cheeks flush even hotter. “Sorry that was inappropriate. What are you like sixteen?”

“Twenty,” she replied swiftly. “I’m twenty.”

His eyes travelled over her. “Twenty…” He moved some hair from her forehead. She trembled. No man had ever touched her like that. She was ugly and shy and often times lost in her own mind. People assumed she was slow of wit, but it was really she didn’t have the confidence to speak as quickly as some. The thoughts were there, she just didn’t know how to voice them. “We could be here a while, Brienne. So while I agree we should not talk loudly, I will get very bored staring at these walls for hours with nothing to keep me occupied.”

“You were in here before I arrived,” she reminded him. “What would you have done had I not shown up?”

“Gone mad and then I would have started singing old pub songs to the ghosts in my head,” he responded. She smiled in spite of herself, then quickly closed her mouth when she remembered her crooked horse teeth. “Why did you stop smiling?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to encourage such talk.” The lie was quick and caused him to chuckle.

“Yes please don’t encourage me,” he grinned at her. Twin dimples appeared in his cheeks making him even more attractive. She couldn’t stop looking at him. Brienne had always thought he would be unapproachable. A mythical man that would not give people like her- mere mortals- the time of day. The warmness of his eyes and the kindness he showed was a shock to the system. “You look familiar… have you been in the Capital long?”

“No,” she picked at the material of her worn and torn blue pants. “I came here to search for my brother. He has been missing…” She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “It’s been a long time…”

“Who is he?” Jaime scooted closer until their knees bumped and her body started tingling. “Maybe I know him.”

“Galladon Tarth,” she responded. His face fell and her heart sank. He wouldn’t meet her gaze and she knew… well she had always known, but now it was confirmed. “When?”

“Eight months ago,” he told her. When his moss green eyes met her blue ones again, they were filled with sorrow. “I was his commanding officer. He died on my watch.”

She nodded, feeling numb. “I knew… I think deep down I knew.” She blinked harder but couldn’t stop the tears this time. “How did he…?”

“Bullet,” he swallowed. “A Raven shot him while he was helping an elderly man get to safety. Your brother died a hero.”

But he’s dead, she wanted to say. Dying a hero still meant he died and she’d never see him again. “Thank you for telling me.” She tucked some light blonde hair behind her ear. “At least I know now.”

“I liked your brother.” Jaime leaned in closer. “He talked a lot about you.”

“Really?”

“He missed you and your father.”

“We missed him,” she answered softly.

The conversation halted for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Brienne yawned into her hand and Jaime noticed. “It’s probably late. Why don’t we try and get some sleep?”

Panic and excitement rose within her. She had never slept with a man before- except Galladon when they were younger and she had a nightmare. Jaime was definitely not her brother. Her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded. She knew she was blushing and tried to hide her face as much as possible. Brienne nodded her head curling into a ball on the cleared floor. Her eyes were closed but she couldn’t relax. Her mind was playing games with her. Jaime Lannister- Kingslayer- was there behind her, watching as she tried to get comfortable and rest. It was more than she could take…

And then it got worse… and so much better. He laid down behind her. His warm body nearly touching hers. His hand between them, brushing her back. His breath puffing lightly against her neck. She shivered. Her body became aware of everything. Each little hair on her standing up at the closeness. Brienne was convinced she would never get to sleep while he was near, but her exhaustion proved her wrong and she slipped into a light slumber.

Some time later she was shaken awake by Jaime’s hand upon her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open and she almost asked what was wrong, when she heard it. Noise from outside the room… The Ravens! Her stomach clenched and she felt like she was going to throw up. Jaime made quick movements with his hands telling her to stand and come with him. She nodded. She trusted him- how could she not?

They stood silently and Jaime grabbed his bag and lamp. Together they moved further back behind the rumble and debris. Huddling in a darkened corner with rocks all around as cover, they waited. He extinguished flame and once again darkness reigned. Her body was shaking. This was the end. We’re gonna be found…

The lock gave way easily under the pounding of the Raven’s and several soldiers entered the room. Brienne felt the sweat gathering at her temples and on her back. Jaime pressed closer, handing her something… a blade, a weapon. He would not let her be taken so easily. Light beams from flashlights swipe back and forth, coming toward them- moving away.

She waited. Any moment… A tall figure stood before them. The light he held nearly blinding her. She wanted to cry but her voice was dead in her throat. The Raven moved the light to illuminate their face. Brienne started shaking.

“Hey Tarth!” Another Raven called. “Find anything?”

Galladon held her eyes. Blue meeting blue. Her mouth dropped open and a tiny gasp escaped. Jaime clamped a hand over her mouth before she could give them away. A small smile settled on Galladon’s lips and he pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket, thrusting it into her hand. “No!” Her brother called back. “Nothing. This building is clear.”

He turned back around and left with the rest of the Ravens. Jaime waited another few moments, until they were alone completely to uncover her mouth. Brienne’s hands were shaking as she opened the paper her brother had handed her.

‘I love you, sis. This will be over soon.’

Tears welled up. “Sorry I lied,” Jaime whispered. “It was Galladon’s idea. Your brother is a hero. He is putting himself in danger to get close to Bran.”

She wiped at her tears. “He’s alive.” She turned toward Jaime. “Bran will die. I want to join your army, Jaime.”

He smiled. “You’ll need a code name…”

“But,” she stuttered. “I thought…”

“I know,” he grinned mischievously at her. “Wench.” And before she could react, he did something unexpected… he kissed her. Brienne went still with shock before melting and attempting to kiss him back. He pulled back and grinned at her. “Come now, Wench. We have some training to do…”

 -----------------------------------

--Three Years Later--

Bran shook as he looked at who stood before him. It was over. He would die. His Raven’s were defeated. The turncoat, Galladon- otherwise known as Sapphire- was surrounded by all the bodies he had slain. The two people he had come to fear were now at his sides. One held a bow pointed at his chest, the other a knife at his throat.

“Well, darling,” the male said while looking at his companion. “Which one of us should get the pleasure?”

She rolled her eyes at him, “You know you want to…”

The male grinned, Bran could feel it as he leaned in close to whisper. “My girl knows me well. See you in hell, fucker.”

The blade across his throat was quick and then he was released to fall to his knees. He looked up at the couple now standing side by side. His enemies. His killers. The ones that brought an end to his reign…

The Kingslayer and The Wench…

[esmiblood90irisglimmer]

Hamilton Walking Dead  Chapter 1: Guidance

Main Story

It’s been about 4 months since the walking dead apocalypse. You have been on your own for the first two months until you met your guardian angel, Alexander Hamilton.  During that time, you were looking food supply since there was hardly any food source in the cabin you escape to. What was happening while being distracted of collecting canned food was a walker slowly creeping behind? It attacks almost attempting to bite your arm for a delicious snack. Never have to experience killing a walker. Fearing that same fateful day was the end line for you until someone bash it head with a sledgehammer. Ever since that day, your savior Hamilton has dedicated his life to your survival of this cruel world. He even taught you how to wield a knife, reload a gun, and any sorts of weapons. You saw him as a father figure since you never have a father before. All of your childhood was nothing more than a living an orphan life.

Right now, you and Alexander are camping in the forest for the time beginning. Giving the fact that a herd of walkers was crossing toward the east side. Luckily, you’re on the south side though Alexander always let you know that you shouldn’t be too careful. Especially of how the world went downhill. Also, another obstacle was coming between that Alex’s is a transgender. Supposedly he was to get top surgery but suddenly realize that the Caribbean male is pregnant with his late lover’s child. The father of his unborn child is Aaron Burr, the sweet and kind-hearted man that left the world too soon. Burr was bitten by a walker within less than 24 hours, the African American male blasted his own brain out. It caused Alexander to make a sole promise to himself that he’ll always protect his unborn child and you as well.

You knew how much Alexander loved Aaron with all his heart and soul. Hell, he couldn’t even stop talking about him if he wanted to. Though you can’t blame him since your guardian angel lost his lover before he met you. Looking at Alexander who was scouting the campsite in case of an intruder or walkers come by. You didn’t while trying to lit the fire despite having the lighter on low oil. Doing your best to keep you and Alexander warm during the cold winter.

“Your Name”  Hamilton whispers your name from a distance

“Yea, Hamilton” You replied

“We gonna go now. I spotted the herd coming in our direction”

“What?! I thought they were heading East”

“Guess those walkers change their mind”

Hamilton tosses you a rifle and a duffle bag without a hesitation. Even though the herd is miles away from the campsite but it’s not worth taking the risk of staying in the forest. You and Hamilton have been on the road for a month now. Yall never stay in one place for too long. Been traveling like gypsies in the needs of shelters, bullets, and foods. Life has been difficult lately cause of the apocalypse but also traveling on road nonstop.

“Your name, it’ll be alright. Once we head to South Carolina... We can start  over in the countryside” Hamilton spoke

Choice 1:

a.  “Can we really start over?”

b.  “Isn’t the world starting over?”

c.  “Sound nice. We can be a family” 

Remember! There are no right or wrong choices. Choose which one best fits for you

A:  “Can we really start over?”

You looked up at the skies as you saw nothing but a few birds. Though there were any other birds that you’ll see the forest. Instead, you only saw ravens and crows. They’re always cawing nonstop. As if they’re mocking both you and Alexander since they don’t have to suffer from the apocalypse like the both of you. Always sleeping every night with cautious with a gun by your side. Always fearing of being bitten or get eaten by a walker during your sleep. Scraping food from other stores, abandoned houses, and etc. Now you’ll always be on guard whether to trust the people you’ll recently meet deciding where they’re either allies or foes.  Taking a deep breath as you’ll be breathing for the last time in the forest of New Jersey.

“Can we really start over?”  you ask

“If you believe it with all your heart then we can” Hamilton reply

Giving him a warm smile knowing that both of you can overcome anything. Quickly packing all your supplies into the car that Hamilton found in the middle of the forest. You were going to miss the forest deeply but it has to be done. You saw Hamilton humming to his unborn child while rubbing his pregnant belly. You pity him since Alexander lost his darling Aaron at the beginning of the outbreak. Tears were slid down his face just remembering the moment of Aaron death. You know how dearly your guardian loved his beloved lover. But he’s now gone away from this cruel world.

“Your name, let’s head out. The sooner we get to South Carolina, the better chances to live a better life” Alexander advice

Hamilton gently patted your head with a soft smile. Settling in the car before both of you headed East to live a new life in South Carolina. With a possibility of living with John Laurens and the others. Or perhaps living in permanent shelters until the outbreak wears off hopefully very soon.

B: “Isn’t the world starting over?”

Looking beyond the forest trail is where you’ll leaving this forest for good. The lovely forest of New Jersey that you won’t be able to see again. It breaks your heart into a massive amount piece like a shattered gem. Though there nothing you can do since you and Hamilton have to move on. It’s for the best for Alexanders’ unborn child. Where it would be safe for his new baby to live in a safe environment despite having to witness the outbreak. You didn’t want to leave this beautiful forest but then again you have to think about your unborn brother or sister. Hamilton has called you his own child despite not being blood-related in which didn’t matter to both of yall.

“Isn’t the world starting over?” You murmur under your breath

Hamilton places his hand on your shoulder while giving you a soft smile. Appreciating the comfort of him while tears were sliding down your face. You were tired of living on the road of day after day. Slowly you broke down into Hamilton arms who was hugging you tightly while rubbing back. Whispering words of encouragement for a minute or more depending on how much times pass by.

“The world may be starting since I believe that either God or perhaps even the Devil is punishing us for our sins. Or punishing us for taking life for granted. Though even with a push or shoves we can over anything as we put our minds into it”  Hamilton comply

“You really think we can survive this?” You question

“I’ve no doubt that we will survive of this outbreak. Until we reach to South Carolina, we can all live a happy life as a family”

Wiping your tears away before placing your hand on Hamilton pregnant belly. Feeling the baby kick a couple of times. Both of you and Hamilton laugh softly before pack things up into an old and dirty van. Somehow you found it abandoned in the middle of the forest but luckily it has warm clothes, food, and everything else yall need for the long journey.  Deciding to take for the first few hours so Hamilton can rest easy with the baby happily kicking to him. It would take awhile to get South Carolina but the journey would be worth it.

C. “Sound nice. We can be a family”

Giving him a soft smile knowingly that South Carolina maybe yall only hope for survival. Even for Hamilton unborn child to live in a permanent shelter where the baby can live a normal childhood. The outbreak has caused many children to mature so quickly instead living a normal life by just being a kid. Many of the children you met during your travels where they all knew how to load a gun, hunt, and even kill walkers at a young age. It wasn’t fair for many children to mature so quickly but yet it has to be done. The outbreaks made people question about life to see if it’s really worth to continue living on or just died quickly so no one could suffer from loss of friend and family.

And that’s was something you don’t want your unborn brother or sister to live their life as. Placing your hand on Hamilton pregnant belly while humming softly to the baby that is inside your guardian's belly. The Caribbean male chuckles lightly as you did that every day in which comfort him knowing that you’ll do anything to protect him and his unborn child. Hamilton is really lucky to have you as his own child. Alexanders’ rubbed your hair gently with a soft smile.

“Sound nice. We can be a family” You said

“Yes, we can a live a normal life as a family in a warm permanent shelter instead of traveling on the road nonstop. I want you and your unborn sibling to live a normal childhood” Hamilton reply

“That’s all I ever wanted since the beginning of this damn outbreak”

“I know sweetie. I know”

Taking the wheel of Aaron and Alexanders’ pickup that they owe before the outbreak. It brings the Caribbean male wonderful memories of his late husband. He’ll always treasure those memories until the day of his death. Hamilton let you rest since you have been on night watch for the past 48 hours and it would be a while to arrive in South Carolina. Appreciating the offer but you wanted to drive since you wanted Hamilton to take it easy with the baby. Though with Hamilton stubbornness getting in the way, you decided to rest before feeling his lips pressing against your forehead.

“Sweet dreams my child” he spoke before you were falling asleep.

 Main story

You and Hamilton weren’t too sure of what to expect once both you arrive in South Carolina. Though hopefully in your guardian opinions that both of you will get to see familiar faces like Laurens, Mulligan, or maybe Lafayette. Still, it was better to stay on guards and loaded with weapons in case trouble comes by to your direction. Praying every day and night whether you’ll get to see another daylight to live another life. It may seem hopeless toward others but both you and Alexander are determined to survive whether it may break you down or bring you up to the top.  You’ll never know until reaching the destination of South Carolina where it may be yall’s last chance to live a normal life.

Well, I hope you have fun with this first choice despite the fact it may or may not get harder as the story continues on. Until then, see ya.

[susanrson-blog]

Privy Farms Keto

Privy Farms Keto Review: Are you tired of investigating the mirror disliking what you see? OK need a more slender physical make-up and feel sure and attractive? It's an ideal opportunity to start your weight reduction venture utilizing Privy Farms Keto. This all-normal enhancement has given a huge number of grown-ups the help they require in thinning down and disposing of additional weight. It is very basic for grown-ups to put on weight and amplify their waistlines as they approach their 30th birthday celebration.

privy farms keto diet

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The lion's share of grown-ups don't get the activity they require on a Weekly premise. Rather, they lead very stationary ways of life. They likewise will sit at work area occupations that the whole day and sitting for expanded stretches of time may impede supplement ingestion and back off your digestion. Also, it can cause extreme appetite longings, that you will meet by picking handled tidbits. The outcome is an extending waistline, and abruptly you need to begin purchasing bigger garments. Try not to give this a chance to transpire. Remain thin and have a body you can be pleased with by utilizing Privy Farms Keto. Discover more about this enhancement and attempt it all alone.

Table of Contents            

Privy Farms Keto Overview:

Elements of Privy Farms Keto:

FORSKOLIN:

HYDROXY CITRIC ACID:

LEMON EXTRACT:

Supplements AND VITAMINS:

APPLE CIDER VINEGAR:

Are Ketogenic Supplements Safe To Use?

Privy Farms Keto – The Best of Ketogenic Supplements:

How Does Privy Farms Keto Work?

Noteworthy Benefits of Privy Farms Keto:

Cons of The Product:

Noteworthy Tips:

Is Privy Farms Keto Safe?

Client Testimonials:

Where To Buy Privy Farms Keto?

Privy Farms Keto Review – FINAL VERDICT:

Offer this:

Privy Farms Keto Overview:

Privy Farms keto is a productive and viable method for losing those additional pounds of weight which have included aggregated inside the body. It's a mystical enhancement which will help in annihilating that difficult pudginess from your very own body therefore making it thin. The distinction would be detectable once a day. Also, the whole gathering will have the capacity to experience such a significant number of wellbeing points of interest as the item is natural and home grown. The item being an endowment of nature is alright for utilize.

Privy Farms Keto can be effortlessly recognized with alternate enhancements or items accessible to diminish weight. Since the majority of the fingers close by are not same. In like manner, every one of the organizations delivering wellbeing supplements are not the equivalent. Some might give valuable and solid items to mend the correct reason for the issue.

The body can't consume those Additional calories devoured Which are expended because of high craving. Losing the weight is like a numerical whole. Eating and consuming off a similar number of calories does not create an issue while eating increasingly and consuming less is a reason for the issue. Likewise to get thinner one needs to control its partiality to suppers as want brings about indulging and gorging causes the impact of further calories consumption. This Product helps in controlling hunger with the goal that you can pursue the eating routine effectively.

Privy Farms Keto helps with controlling the nourishment hankering and pizzazz. It makes a kind of drive in the body which helps in directing the craving in the body. Control on appetite will itself help with having any kind of effect and change can be seen. It will compress the weight. Niwali Keto is likewise a Fantastic choice to get in shape.

Elements of Privy Farms Keto:

The parts of Privy Farms Keto are biotic in nature. The social insurance items offered in the market may make you lean, however they will definitely cause numerous undesirable reactions because of fixings. Also, the organizations don't clarify about the constituents of the products. Privy Farms Keto is completely free from threat and defended. The segments are protected and solid. The elements of this item are recorded beneath:

FORSKOLIN:

This segment is exceptionally notable for its Beneficial properties in decreasing that burly body. It separates fat in such a way, to the point that it tends to be immediately disposed of from the body.

HYDROXY CITRIC ACID:

This Component has an indispensable influence in lessening your weight. It helps with controlling the craving of nourishment in this way one isn't pulled in to sustenance. Consequently additional calories aren't expended, bringing about a thin body.

LEMON EXTRACT:

lemon is as of now Well-known for its citrus properties. It assumes a significant job in weight control. It produces cancer prevention agents in the body that guarantees that the item does not bring on any undesirable impacts in the body. Additionally, it keeps your framework free from radicals that are by and large mechanically delivered in the body.

Supplements AND VITAMINS:

This causes in providing vitality to the Body to do undertakings. In spite of the fact that the thing guarantees weight reduction in a similar time extra power is important to execute monotonous routine that is wastefully done because of the full body. It enhances the digestion of the human body in this way expanding the viability of the human body.

APPLE CIDER VINEGAR:

It helps in chop down the level of cholesterol from the blood. It's a great vital to support weight reduction.

The above-recorded fixings make Privy Farms Keto sheltered and solid for Use supplement. The innards of this stock are a protected and fundamental birthplace of the accomplishment of the thing.

privy farms keto

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Are Ketogenic Supplements Safe To Use?

There are numerous discussions about ketogenic diet on Different stations and even on relational systems administration. Presently we're probably going to investigations whether this ketogenic diet attempts to make you thin or not. The specific first in that you need to know is that what ketogenic diet is!

When you may take starches in your nourishment, at that point your body is probably going to make vitality from these fats, yet when you quit taking starches or sugar, at that point your body will use present fats with the expectation of delivering power.

This can bring down the body weight onto one side and to make you greatly enthusiastic on the restricting group. Numerous investigations and analysts have been made about Keto diet, and it's been discovered that this kind of eating regimen program attempts to control your body weight.

Therefore you may likewise try it out, yet one thing which you should keep it in your psyche is this eating regimen program is expensive. Another issue with the best eating regimen program is that you should discover an opportunity to cook for yourself. On the off chance that you are a bustling individual by method for the case on the off chance that you work together or work, at that point it probably won't be conceivable that you put time in the kitchen for yourself.

Thus you may not pursue this eating regimen plan reliably in that circumstance. In any case, the answer to the inquiry, if ketogenic diet is fantastic or not, is yes. It without a doubt attempts to manage extra parts of your whole body.

" Therefore, the present examination affirms that it is sheltered to utilize a ketogenic diet for a more extended timeframe than beforehand illustrated." https://t.co/xS6zmHqx5X

Privy Farms Keto – The Best of Ketogenic Supplements:

In the event that You Believe Keto diet is strict for you whether fiscally Or because of some other reason at that point there is an option for you which you can get similar results. There are ketogenic supplements that give you similar points of interest, and outstanding amongst other ketogenic supplements is Privy Farms Keto.

It is conceivable to exploit this item to bring your body into ketosis state and to start bringing down your weight quick. One thing that will make you flabbergasted and Happy is that famous people likewise have been depending on this ketogenic nourishing enhancement.

In this manner you may even utilize it since it's hundred percent protected and successful. It is a ketogenic recipe which could promptly bring the body under ketosis and subsequently it will turn out to be simple for you to shed off pointless fats. One of the critical issues of chunky individuals is that they are so ravenous constantly and it's simple for them to control your craving.

In case you're among those people who feel hungry constantly and you need to stop this propensity, at that point Privy Farms Keto will work like enchantment. It contains coconut oil that is really light and monosaturated. Notwithstanding, this coconut oil will give you the impression of a full stomach and thus you won't feel any need of ingesting more. Along these lines, your hunger will gain power, and you will have the capacity to remain concentrated on your weight reduction targets. More dynamic you'll be physical, less demanding it'll be for you to diminish your weight.

How Does Privy Farms Keto Work?

Privy Farms Keto works in endlessly useful way. The reason being, its High-review and strong fixings. This item completely works on the exploration of ketosis, and that is the reason enough amount of ketone fixings have been utilized inside this enhancement. When you may take this enhancement, at that point it promptly breaks down on your body with blood and infiltrates through the circulation system.

With a few months the keto diet has turned out to be exceptionally famous among the people. The fundamental thing going to abstain from food on the entire body framework works is that it demands your body settle on fat to use it as a wellspring of vitality instead of starches.

This item is more able than you anticipate. As it gradually starts exhaustion the level of glucose in your body on the grounds that until and except if the sugar stays present in the human body. Your body wants to go for fat as a wellspring of vitality. To attempt it, it rushes the making of citrate lyase that is responsible for the creation of sugar in your body.

While then again, it invigorates the generation of ketones that begin focusing on huge versatile and consuming off fat at the quick pace. Thus, with half a month you may start feeling the slim body with a level belly, thin arms, and thighs, and so forth.. Furthermore, it deals with the general accumulation by enhancing the opposition of a man.

[nizshiy]

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