#Fragrance Etiquette

[styleruleindia]

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[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You're a princess locked in a tower and guarded by a big, scary dragon. But is he as scary as it seems? tw: female reader, deceit, manipulation, murder (not reader), stockholm syndrome(?) My ko - fi <3

As the youngest princess, you'd always known you would end up like this. In some far off land with little to your name other than some jewels, stuck in a tower just like your mother had been before she got married to a foreign lord, and finally allowed to re-join society. It was such a cliche it was funny at first, but now you just felt like screaming at the top of your lungs from boredom.

At first you didn't feel the unknown presence. The tall man was lurking in the shadows, as if part of the ancient building. You could smell the herbs in the air around him - the minthy fragrance trailing long after he had retired to his chambers. Then little by little you started to recognise him - in certain shades of sunlight, in the back of mirrors, in the tiny lizards crawling at the corners of the stone walls. But nothing could prepare you for that first morning when you saw him - really saw him.

You had woken up early, startled by noise reminiscent of that a bird makes during flight - but multiplied tenfold. You had looked through the window with a weak, fluttering heart. And then you saw his true form - massive yellow wings covered in what looked like pure gold burning brightly in the sky. Long, hard body made of sun - kissed flakes; so sharp they could be used as arrows. And a thin, curled tail drawing circles around your tower.

One of his empty moonlit eyes turned towards you, and it was all over. He immediately dissapeared into thin air, the only evidence of his existence being miles of thick gray smoke. But you weren't going to let the only living creature around run away so easily.

"I saw you!" You screamed long before you could even begin thinking of proper etiquette. Ladylike behavior be damned, you were dying of loneliness in this stupid tower. "Please..." You begged, voice hoarse and desperate from weeks of forced silence. "Come here." You continued ruefully, playing with your hair, chest riddled with anxiety - after all you hadn't spoken to a human being in so long.

You heard a long, almost pained sigh, which made you turn around. You were greeted by a tall brooding figure. It wore the face of a man, but its long golden hair and broad, muscular shoulders pointed to something a lot less human and a lot more devine. He must have been twice your size - trully intimating in all his shining glory. Even in his human form his skin seemed to glow just like his sharp almond - shaped black orbs, constricted in his yellow pupils.

"I'm always here, Your Highness." You remember his exact words simply because you were taken aback by how soft his voice was - just like fine silk. It wasn't the voice of a dragon, but the voice of an angel. "You just never see me." He added with what you then assumed was a hint of playfulness, but now recognised as annoyance. With that he leaned against the wall, crossing his hands together.

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

Many months passed since that fateful day. You slowly got to know your new companion - or perhaps, guardian. You learnt that many called him Cain after the fallen son* - once a strong soldier of the Lohemian Kingdom, his injuries had made it impossible to keep fighting. That's how your father found him - abandoned by his brothers, lying in a mudded puddle of his own blood. The rest was history.

He didn't speak very much - but he never left your questions unanswered.

"Cain..." You'd call out with practised uncertainty. Even so far removed from your peers, you still couldn't escape the twisted societal ideals of propriety. You could never be too eager to speak to a man - even if he wasn't fully human. "Is that your real name?" You wondered, genuinely curious. You slowly looked away from the book you were holding and towards your friend, the book long forgotten. The dragon was sitting in the other corner of the room. Despite all the time you had spent together so far, he was still hesitant to come near you. There was a certain stiffness in his strong shoulders - as well as his jaw.

"Princess..." The man mumbled softly, your heart aching by the sheer tenderness of the term. Usually you'd pay it no mind as it was your right from birth, your title - but titles didn't matter here. There was no place for status or riches between those four intimate walls that always felt small despite the spacious squares. "Don't you know curiousity got the cat's tongue?" He responded with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - even his smiles were serious and stoic.

"You have it all wrong." You huffed, standing up from your comfortable chair just to make a big, dramatic gesture with your hands. "It's curiosity killed the cat." You stated confidently, waving your finger at the dragon. He let out a soundless chuckle and averted his gaze away from you. He still couldn't get over the fact that you weren't afraid of him.

"Whatever my Princess says, goes." Cain teased, eyes narrowing further - now they looked like two pitch black slits. He tuck one disobedient lock of gold behind his pointy ear, making the glass beads of his earring jingle in tone. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He whispered with slight condescension, toying with the dancing little crystals. "My name is Kaajin, if you must know. I doubt you can spell it. It's in Lohemian." He suddenly stared at you as if in a challenge. "Does this change anything? Anything at all."

You shook your head - of course no. There was little your protector could do to make your feelings change; not when you had been so terribly alone without him. Not when he looked at you as if you were precious - breakable, yet precious.

************************************************************************

The days went by slowly. There was nothing there to help pass the time - just your voice and his voice blending together in the echo of the tower. Again and again and again.

"Entertain me." You asked authoritatively, looking at your friend from down below while you were sitting on the ground. You were bored - so very bored. "I don't remember ever signing up to be your personal jester, my Princess." Cain, no, Kaajin replied succinctly, showing off two pointy fangs - and you couldn't help recalling the story of the Sleeping Beauty and the spindle that sent her into deep, eternal slubmer. You wondered how his teeth would feel against your finger - and your throat. Whether they'd tire you or save you with the kiss of true love.

"Please?" You asked sweetly, just the way he liked - just like you had done that cold winter day in December when you first met face to face. It seemed to work, because soon after that you could feel him move through the room with a tired step - ever so dramatic, closing in on you. "Sure." The dragon breathed in your ear, enjoying the way the flesh quickly reddened with emotion. He reached behind the sensitive shell and slowly waved his fingers just short of your nose. In his hand just milimeters from you was hanging a thin silver chain with a little red rose dangling down. "Here. Have fun." He let it slip past his slender fingers and you swiftly reached to catch it before it could break in thousand pieces.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" You asked, puzzled - still looking at the delicate bracelet and the way it seemed to come alive under direct sunlight. "I am not a child." You suddenly puffed, stuffing it into the pocket of your long skirts. Kaajin only clicked his tongue, gently tugging at your wrist until you took it out of your pocket. "Don't be so ungrateful." His strict yet plush voice took you out of your little outburst, and you finally looked up. His eyes were measuring you up, scanning for any hidden movement - any secret emotion. "I am a dragon, remember? We tend to be awfuly protective of our things."

Your eyes filled with curiosity once again. "You mean your jewels?" He nodded rhytmically, trying to keep his composure at the mention of his old, forgotten customs. "I've read some stories about dragon kings stealing piles of golden coins and locking them away for all eternity. "You chuckled to yourself. "Like they could ever use them." Even after all those years you still found the thought amusing. Humans spent their youth slaving away so they could waste the money gained once they were old and wise. Dragons, on the other hand, were satisfied with holding onto wealth and jewels and all those shiny human things - with little understanding of the subejctive value they held in the human world.

"Yes. It's true indeed. Dragons-" Your guard nodded yet again, now somewhat uneasy. "We take good care of our..." He averted his eyes far away from you. "treasures." He finished stiffly, gaze basically burning the ground. "So you shouldn't take my gift lightly. You should wear it with pride. And perhaps in time you'd find another use for it, too." The man explained, a slight blush spreading across his usually high, cold cheeks.

You smiled gingerly, kissing your fingers around the chain before pressing it to your chest - close to your heart.

"I shall cherish it forever, then." You exclaimed, feeling warm inside. You were uncertain as to why, but your stomach was spinning wildly, as if filled with bubbles. "But you still owe me some fun." You giggled, running to start the old phonograph in the corner of the room. It was your favourite thing in the whole world - which didn't mean a lot up here, but it was enough to make your legs move on their own.

As you danced to Vaarlen's famous spring waltz, the air seemed lighter and the cramped hall just slightly more grandiose. It was easier to breathe. You extended your hand towards your dragon, asking him to join.

"You know I don't dance, princess." He grunted, his mood souring. He never told you why he hated it so much, but the man was never too fond of music. Still, you decided to try again. "Oh, come on. Just this once." He didn't seem convinced. "Let me teach you as a thank you gift. I'm serious." You tapped your chest playfully. The man rolled his eyes, then gently took your hand in his. You almost broke into a giddy giggle - for the first time since your family locked you up in the rotten tower you felt happy.

And he always gave into you.

So you two danced, both lost to the music and your own racing thoughts. Kaajin kept his distance, but his hold was strong onto your wrist - unrelenting, like he never wanted to let go. Your body twisted and turned, perfectly synced to the chords, blind to the pass of time. You only realized it had become evening once your back hit the window - it was dark outside. Yet another day gone. Yet another day lost.

"Kaajin..." You could feel the tears burning at your wet lashes before you could stop yourself. You had promised yourself not to think about it anymore - not today, or ever for that matter, but it was impossible once you were faced with the Creator of All. The Master of everything, of everyone - time. How could you ever pretend otherwise?

"Do you think-" You bit the inside of your cheek, your hands fighting the guilt as you let go of his. "Do you think my father would ever let me go into the outside world?"

The guard gulped dry, taking a step back to give you space.

"I-" He took a deep breath, gaining the courage to look at you. "I don't know. The war is still going. Your kingdom has lost many brave men and women. Even the strongest soldiers are starting to capitulate." He couldn't bear to look at your pretty face all messed up by the pain and sorrow, but it was for the best.

"I understand." You muttered, turning your back to him - curling back into yourself. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you remained quiet - neither fighting it, nor embracing it. "Don't cry, my princess." The man whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always be by your side." He meant it. You knew it by now, and that only made it all the more tragic. "I swear on my life." You believed him, you had no reason not to - he was the only one you had left.

As for your father, he couldn't really give a proper order now, Kaajin thought. After all, dead men tell no tales.

[astrumark]

── CHECKMATE, I COULDN'T LOSE ★.

PAIRING: aegon ii targaryen x female reader.

SUMMARY: frustrated by your unsuccessful attempts to charm prince aemond, you should have known not to turn to prince aegon.

WARNINGS: fluff kinda, curse words.

WC: 3.4K

You have put so much effort into your looks for the evening, so specific when you ordered a new gown for the most high-priced seamstress from King's Landing. Your sleep the previous night had been uncomfortable as you went to bed with the tightest buns to achieve luscious and perfect hair. Getting ready had been exhausting as well, the dress buttons and ribbons were too complicated and tight, your skin was scrubbed almost raw, and the strong fragrance splashed over your body made you sneeze repeatedly. You'd gone as far as wandering around the city to find good and reliable pastes, powders, and paints, something you have never tried before, though a few of your friends loved to use them. Your eyelids were painted blue and cheeks a faint tone of red.

And in all honesty, you were looking splendid. Almost all eyes were on you the moment you stepped into the ballroom, many lords gawking and immediately asking you to spare them a dance. No matter where you went, heads turned in your direction. But not his.

The reason for all of your pampering barely glanced your way, except when you acknowledged him and curtseyed. But you didn't give up. At some point you approached him in the corner, and asked questions, trying to strike up a conversation. You tried to talk about topics you believed he was interested in, dragons, sword training, history and philosophy, and more. He didn't even pretend to be interested, his violet eye focused on everyone around the room but you, his responses guttural. It felt as if you were talking to a wall, and you started to feel fidgety, gulping down all the wine goblets that passed in front of you carried by servants.

You hated wine, the taste of it was too bitter and strong, but it was a good distraction to your pounding heart and dizzy head, certain you were embarrassing yourself. Although distasteful in the beginning, the warmth the wine provided in your chest was welcoming, and after a few more cups, the most you have ever consumed in your life, you felt yourself loosening up. You were completely conscious, but your body and mind seemed to be a lot lighter than usual.

Reuniting all of your courage, perhaps fueled by the wine, once you ran out of topics, you decided to test your luck. It went against all of the etiquette lessons, and it might as well be humiliating, but you doubted Aemond would brag about such a thing. You had hoped for him to ask the question, but each new celebration, and even his lack of initiating a simple conversation with you, proved that it would be unlikely. So instead, you sighed and did it.

"Would you like to dance, my Prince?"

He finally looked at you, his face as blank as an unpainted canvas, so emotionless it made your skin crawl and heartbeat quicken so much you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. It was only seconds before he blinked slowly and answered, but it could've been hours, anticipation eating you inside out.

"I do not enjoy dancing, my lady." 

You didn't move a muscle, an uncomfortable silence pairing between the two of you, your mouth slightly agape and mind fumbling to find a response. Suddenly, the music and chatter around you sounded much louder. There was a heavy sense of shame, certainly, but underneath it, there was also an odd relief, doubt no more weighing on your shoulders. He did not wish to dance.

"I understand," You said as composed as you could as if it was a casual offer and didn't hurt your heart deeply. "If you will excuse me." You curtseyed once again and got away, not waiting to see or hear his response. 

Body aflame, your eyes searched for an exit with purpose, the room now too crowded for you. All the lightness of the liquor disappeared and you just felt heavy and uncomfortable, throat drying out and chest tightening. 

If one asked when you fell in love with Aemond Targaryen, you would not be able to pinpoint it. Most likely around the age of ten and two, when your eyes could not help but look for the usually staid prince. Although even earlier in your childhood, when you were just small things sprinting around the castle with a few missing teeth, you considered him the coolest of all your acquaintances. Why you hold such feelings for him for so long was an even harder question, you do not know. Maybe you fantasized about him too much before bed, deep in your illusion. You have tried to discount those feelings and surpass them but to no avail. It was as if you were sick, and there was no antidote. Maybe that was your curse, to forever long for someone you could never have.

You rushed to where you knew there were huge double doors, now covered by dark green curtains for the decorations of the ball. Fresh air would probably do you some good. Closing the doors, you stopped dead in your tracks as you spotted the back of the head of a certain silver-haired, the strands cut short.

"Seven, did you bathe in a tub of fragrance?" Aegon didn't attempt to look at you.

Groaning, you stepped further into the balcony, making your way to his side. Unsurprisingly, Aegon was drinking, a jar of wine upon the balustrade, and silver cup in hand. You supported your elbows on the structure of stone, breathing in the cold wind that caressed your face. Countless stars and a full moon graced the dark blue sky.

Despite your wishes, you have grown used to Aegon's presence in the last few months due to some unfortunate circumstances, and pairing it with the fact you cared very little about his opinion of you or how unrefined he might think you are, there was no reluctance about what you said next, frustration clear in your voice, now unusually slurred.

"How can I charm Aemond?" 

Aegon snickered. "Oh. Yes, well, don't expect me to help," He shook his head, looking at you up and down. "Though I am certain you will find your way anywise." 

"You seriously cannot be solicitous for once in your life, Aegon?" You crossed your arms in annoyance. 

"Why do you assume I need to be solicitous?" Aegon scoffed. "You seem quite charming, I am sure you can find out how to get his… favor." 

"You are his brother! You could at least offer me some advice." 

"Alright, I will offer you one piece of advice," He took a big gulp of wine, his lips glistening with the liquid. "Don't act so desperate," He smirked. "And that's all you are getting. "

You rolled your eyes, facing the city ahead of you again. "You are of no use." 

"That's not what your sister told me." He laughed cynically. "If you want to succeed, then you have to do it alone. Can't have it all spoon-fed to you, can you?" He leans against the railing, staring at you with a mischievous grin. 

Oh yes, your sister, who's been sneaking around with Aegon for a few moons now, and essentially dragging you into her rendezvous as well. She always used you to cover and support her claims to your parents, a habit of hers. It wasn't even constant, their trysts. You doubt your sister could remain interested in just one man for more than a few weeks. However, you didn't have much of a choice other than being her accomplice and helping in her escapades, as you would never purposely have her get into complicated and shameful situations.

"I would rather have it spoon-fed, thank you."

Aegon chuckled. "Then, I wish you good fortune with charming my brother," He winked. "Just remember that you will get nowhere without the right attitude." He nudged you.

Your eyes came back to his face as your eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you could be the most beautiful woman in the world, but it means nothing if you don't carry yourself right. Aemond won't be charmed by looks alone. You will have to give him more than that." 

You nodded. "Yes, he is not an easily impressed man," You sighed exasperatedly. "It would all be so much easier if I fancied you instead." 

"Now, that's very presumptuous of you to say. Why would you think I am easier?" The tone of his voice was exaggeratedly offended. "Maybe I am the hardest to charm." 

"If you were the hardest, half the women of King's Landing wouldn't be able to say they have laid with you, would they?" You cocked your head. "Or are all of them just awfully skilled?"

His smirk faltered for a second and he narrowed his eyes, leaving his cup behind. "Is that so, my fair lady?" He stepped closer to you, which made you turn your body towards him. "You have heard rumors? And who are you to say they are true? Besides your lovely sister, of course. Or do you prefer to believe them because it's convenient?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. If he truly believes his well-known behavior could be easily denied, he was delusional. "Rumors do come from somewhere, my Prince, and since we are talking about attitudes, you do not act any different than a… man-whore."

Aegon smiled disturbingly calmly at you, but his gaze was piercing. "Oh, do you get to decide that? Or are you judging so you can feel better about yourself in your righteousness?" He taunted you.

You chuckled incredulously at how he tried to change the topic from him to you, to give him some merit, he was not awful at it. And someone who doesn't know any better could easily be fooled by his falsely insulted speech, as he definitely sounds like he believes his words, but you're very aware of who he is.

"I can often see the disdain in your eyes… You must think every woman who's ever come close to me has some kind of hold on me, isn't that right?" He approached you even more, so much you took a hesitant step back. "What would you even know about me?" 

The sharpness of his words made you shiver, but you did not falter. "Fair, I do not know you much despite your reputation, but what I know certainly precedes it. It's a quick observation, it would be easier to charm you other than Aemond. Don't take offense." 

He laughed mockingly. "Well, then I challenge you to prove it," His smile turned almost cruel. "Let actions speak, and we shall see if you are right… or just a foolish, presumptuous woman." He raised his eyebrow in defiance.

"Prove it?" You repeated his words, brows furrowed.

"You have claimed that I am a man of want," His hand caressed the hilt of Blackfyre absently and your eyes were drawn to the movement, remembering his position. "So prove it. Prove that you are right and I am wrong." 

You gulped, finally understanding the meaning of his challenge. "I…"

"Is that the end of your words?" He chuckled again. "You are intimidated now?"

You remained silent, struggling to answer him. 

"Tell me, my fair lady, am I wrong?" Aegon opened his arms in invitation while smirking. "Prove me wrong." 

Your heart drummed, breath hitching as your eyes remained locked on Aegon and his mocking face. Infuriated, you start to walk towards him, however much slower than you expected, as if your body was not as sure as your mind. The prince observed you like a proper dragon, his eyes twinkling as the purple orbs silently goaded you to continue.

You stopped only inches from him, bodies brushing, and you could feel the scent of wine mixed with an interesting blend of cedarwood, saffron, and magnolia.

"Well? I am waiting." His voice sounded much more raspy now that you were close.

Chewing on your lower lip, you placed your hands on Aegon's chest, moving it up until you clasped them together around his neck as you looked at him with your most innocent doe eyes. However, your voice sounded anything but, now a lot more enticing. "Do you find me beautiful, my lord?" 

Aegon chuckled, his heart leaping. Never did he think he would see or have you this way. Too close, and looking at him so adorably. He seized the opportunity to stare at your features, eyes trailing over your face, and he concluded he adored all that he saw, even the tiny flaws that weren't noticeable from afar. He resisted the urge to touch your face, staring at your exposed chest and then back to your eyes. You are beautiful, but that is no wonder, he's been aware of your beauty for a good while now, even if you two are completely different.

Now your sister is a lot more like him, wild and spontaneous, and it was no surprise they found themselves often tangled up in bed. You, on the other hand, though not entirely shy and unafraid of speaking your mind when necessary, was a lot more reserved and dutiful. When he noticed your smitten stares at his younger brother, he thought there couldn't be a better, and boring, match. But Aemond never made a move, and there is no way that he might be clueless about your passion, anyone with eyes, either a pair or just one, could notice that. Much to Aegon's bafflement, he just deliberately ignored you. 

"Oh…" He pretended to be in deep thought before smiling teasingly. "How could I not?"

You tried not to show how embarrassed you were by his words and how genuine they sounded, pressing your lips together for a second. 

"Well, I think you are a very pretty boy," You leaned even closer. "Those lilac eyes of yours are so enchanting..." You rubbed his cheek admirably. 

Aegon shuddered with your closeness paired with the compliments, but he managed to stay still, hands firmly by his sides. He would gladly drown in your warmth and scent on any other occasion, but not right now. He smirked, masking his nervousness with confidence, even if his warm cheeks indicated how affected he was by just a small amount of your attention.

"My fair lady, I do believe you are giving my ego a bit too much validation." 

"It is well deserved." Your lips met his cheek in a light kiss, then moved it to his jaw.

Aegon bites his lip to not whimper right there, fist clenched to continue unmoving. Due to his silence and stillness, you continued to kiss his neck, nipping and licking the soft flesh, and you felt surprised to like the taste of him so much.

"What would you say you are doing?" Aegon asked amusingly. 

"Nothing." You said nonchalantly against his neck, kissing his throat before moving to the other side of his neck.

Aegon's eyes closed as you continued your ministrations on his neck, kisses getting wetter and sloppily. He grinned, lower abdomen burning, and still fighting the need to touch you. What an agreeable turn of events.

When you finished kissing the left side of his neck and face, your lips found his, unsure what else you could do to stir him up. Aegon didn't move for a while and you prayed that he would react soon, not certain if your pride could handle being rejected twice in the same night. Your fears drifted away the second your tongue brushed his lips and he finally gripped your waist harshly, eagerly returning the kiss with a grunt.

It was ferocious, but mindful, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. You have kissed before, once, and it felt nothing like this. Eerie fitting, balanced, and enjoyable. Your hand caressed his neck, the taste of wine not displeasing to you, not at this moment. It felt as if you were merging into one, drowning in each other's taste. You shouldn't indulge so much, but it was incredible, the attention and intimacy unlocking tons of repressed desires inside you and making your body tingle. A whimper left your lips and your heart thundered inside your chest. You forced yourself to pull away, eyes half-closed, feeling everything twice as strong as you should.

Then, you finally remembered you have won the challenge. Aegon didn't resist you, he was easy to charm. The victorious grin on your face made its way as fast as it disappeared when your eyes focused on the silver-haired man. Looking down at you, the prince looked absurdly delighted. 

"Congratulations, you've just proven yourself right, my fair lady," He didn't even try to hide his amusement as he moved away. "It seems I am truly a man of want. How surprising."

Your stomach lurched, your mouth agape in shock as a mortifying shame devoured your whole. This had been his plan all along, he wanted you to kiss him, obviously never truly feeling offended by your words. Aegon had tricked you, and you have fallen into his trap as easily as a rabbit. Seven, you could've vomited.

Embarrassment quickly turned into anger. "You cunt!" You raged, voice rising in a way that made you sound like a squirrel. "How could you do this?! You are so… unscrupulous and vile!"

"I didn't do anything," He laughed derisively, raising his hands in surrender. "You kissed me. I stayed right there, unmoving." 

You groaned, throwing your head back in frustration as you paced. "You are terrible!"

"Thank you, my dear." He smirked, supporting his weight on the door.

You rested your hands upon the balustrade, fidgeting them nervously. How could you have been so daft to not notice exactly what he was doing, consciously getting a rise out of you to his benefit? This night was disastrous.

When he spoke next, you jumped. Not expecting him to be so close, his breath tickling the back of your neck as he moved a piece of your hair out of the way. "Would you like to dance with me?" 

You sneered as you looked at him over your shoulder, voice dangerously low. "What?" 

"You have not danced tonight," He pointed out. "Were you expecting my excuse of a brother to ask you?" 

"That does not concern you." You said sharply.

"You are looking far too pretty not to dance." 

"There are plenty of men willing to dance with me inside that room." 

"None deserving of the honor." 

"And you are?" You chuckled humorously.

"Not even in the slightest," He whispered in the shell of your ear, sensuously. "But I can promise not to bore you to death." 

"You truly are shameless." 

He shrugged. "Be reasonable, my fair lady. It is just, after our shared kiss, is it not?" Your body trembled when he rested his ringed fingers on your lower stomach, pulling your body flush against his chest. "I know you enjoyed it. And I can say I'm as good a dancer as I am a lover."

You concluded you were not in your best state of mind when you didn't refuse immediately. There were no good reasons to accept his invitation, still, you felt tempted to. It is the thrill that he evokes when you are near him that you do not want to let go yet. It's an uncommon emotion for you, but one that reminded you that you were alive. The night had been dreadful already, so honestly, how bad could it be?

Aegon smiled wickedly when you accepted, and extended his hand for you to hold. You ignored the goosebumps that arose on your skin when your hands touched. He led you inside, separating for an instant to go and speak with the musicians.

Multiple eyes watched curiously as you made your way into the dancefloor. The music, of his choice, was soothing and sweet. Your arms were raised and intertwined as you both twirled around slowly, a matching playful grin on your faces as you switched arms and directions. 

Aegon meant it when he said he would not bore you to death. To your bewilderment, amongst fluid and precise movements, absolutely worthy of a prince, he also decided to add some childish dance steps. Wriggling his hips or clapping his hands in such a ridiculous way that made you laugh out loud and try it out yourself. In no way suitable for the grand event you were in.

You would've noticed some disapproving looks if your eyes weren't stuck on Aegon. Your dancing seemed effortless, a silent understanding floating between you, along with known giggles.

When he lifted you off the ground, putting you back down slowly as his hand went to the small of your back, you felt yourself getting lost in the lilac of his eyes. Perhaps to never be found again.

[chilapis]

As a result of being burdened by knowledge, and an indulgent inability to remain silent, I would like to discuss scent notes and perfumes that I associate with Childe in consideration of his nature and nurture. I’ll also likely be redoing the post in which I compared him to garnets (x) tomorrow; this is because that post was genuinely intended to be a skeleton and there are many details that were overlooked, both in regards to him and the stone itself, which feels like injustice twofold. Anywho, let’s begin.

For the purposes of this, I’ll first be tackling the elephant in the room. The official Tartaglia perfume, which was formulated by Primaniacs in collaboration with MiHoyo. I do not care for this perfume, I disagree with half of its the associations, and I will personally be disregarding it here onwards because I’m not legally prohibited from doing so.

It should be noted that aside from the “Tartaglia” name and face slapped onto this scent, it also mentions its association with the hydro element; I do not think it would be unreasonable to believe that this perfume can be seen to extend to the hydro element as a whole rather than be exclusive to him. This is the interpretation I choose to utilise.

I will however state my (reluctant) agreement with few of the associated notes mentioned. Namely, Tonka Beans; Bergamot and Orange flower (mentioned together as they will be tackled in one go); Cumin and Nutmeg, and Agarwood.

Tonka Beans make sense on several grounds; firstly, they’re actually one of the most common ingredients in masculine brews (see: Giorgio Armani Black Code; Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille; Givenchy Givenchy Play Intense). Tonka creates a beautiful and comforting warmth in the scent; it’s quite similar to vanilla, but much… smokier, one may say. You’ll notice that a lot of the ingredient I focus on will have much to do with warmth. Historically, the seeds would be dried and soaked in rum for a certain amount of time in order to extract the scent, though artificial substitutes exist to offer the same result now.

Bergamot and Orange Flower are both citrus notes, though the former offers a much stronger one in comparison to the citrusy-floral amalgam that the latter offers. The reason I agree with these is that citrus notes are seen as quite common in aquatic scents as they recall the freshness of the sea breeze (see: Armani Giorgio Acqua Di Gio; Royall Lyme of Bermuda Royall Yacht; Czech & Speake Ausonia).

Cumin and Nutmeg are both spices, so one can imagine that they lead to a warm, comforting, and, well, spicy, scent. Remember how I said only a short while ago that warmth will be a prominent focus of mine? Exactly. No matter where he travels to, no matter where he goes, I’m quite certain he’d like a scent that reminds him of home; considering perfume etiquette requires one to wear fragrance according to the weather and occasion, I imagine warmer scents will be much more reminiscent of the contrasting, overbearing cold conditions that his nation offers.

Agarwood (the wood of Gods) — often interchangeable with oud in the fragrance world, despite both different— is such a deliciously warm and spicy note as well; it can be a bit overwhelming for some if it is found to be too heavy in a scent (which is quite common and rather easy to manage) but it can provide such a delicious base if handled right.

With these justifications done, I will now begin to write the notes that I personally associate with him.

I simply cannot deny the association of musk; another one of the most common notes found in perfumes. It’s warm, it’s soft and heavenly, it’s delicious. It is often seen as bringing a more primal, instinctual, and almost animalistic mood to the fragrance. This comes as no surprise considering it was historically obtained from male musk deers’ glands, even if we are now able to enjoy this scent artificially as well due to modern development and discoveries.

Speaking of animal origins and perfumes, did you know that whale vomit was traditionally a rather popular ingredient in perfumes? Ambergris is a substance that comes from the digestive system of sperm whales; it smells quite foul when fresh, as one would reasonably expect. It smells like faeces, actually. Again, as one would reasonably expect. However, it… becomes pleasant after drying down? Warm, musky. Ambrein is then extracted from the ambergris to be used in brews; rather, it is the quantity of of this alcohol that dictates the quality of the ambergris. It is still used, however due to issues with both cost and access it has been replaced with a synthetic counterpart for the most part, with notable exceptions. It also has a history of being used an aphrodisiac? But so has musk, so, such usage is quite common with animal-origin ingredients and notes, but I digress. It was just a fact I find somewhat curious.

Leather is a big one as well. Do I have much explanation for this? No. Leather scents can come in a wide variety, from smooth, cozy, suave and sensual, to rough, primal, smoky, and beastly. It mostly depends on what ingredients are being used and which notes are being aimed to replicate; the fragrance house of Memo, Paris is extraordinary at replicating different types of leather scents; they’re arguably my favourite when it comes to scents, actually. But either way, there is a kick to it; a spicy, warm, and intense presence that you cannot deny.

I would like to give special mention to saffron, tobacco, rum, gin, bourbon, amber (especially amber), vanilla, cardamom and other spices for bringing a similar warmth and comfort to their scents that I’m absolutely certain would suit him very well. Also vetiver, because it brings a woody delight to any fragrance it embraces.

Now comes the discussion of perfumes; arguably what I’m most excited for and the main reason that I wished to write this.

First off the list is Ocean Leather, by Memo, Paris.

Now, the official site claims it to comprise of Vetiver, Nutmeg, Cedar, Mandarin oil, Sage, and a leather accord. It also has basil and elemi, so I’m certain you can imagine how all of this together with the mandarin oil would offer you a truly citrusy, aquatic scent, combined the comfort of leather, nutmeg, vetiver and cedar. This, along with the gorgeous whale artwork, makes this almost perfect for him. Almost.

This is the only one in the list that I haven’t smelt myself (because somehow, much to my dismay, no stores seem to be carrying it) however, I’ve heard a lot of people review it to be more of a… clean scent? Which I feel doesn’t suit Ajax at all.

For the record, fragrances are often divided as being either clean scents, or dirty scents. Clean scents are those that are not overwhelming, these are scents containing light, refreshing notes. You should expect something like citrus-heavy, something that’s very suited to spring with light, fresh floral notes. Something you’d smell in a professional setting, in an office perhaps. It’s a mild, timid scent. And I do not think it suits Ajax in any sense of the way, whether you take into account his domestic life or his professional life.

Dirty scents are warm, musky; they’re heavy, they’re entrancing, they’re so deeply connected to the Earth. They feel like browns and reds, like clay. No matter which face of him you choose to assign a scent to, it’ll likely fall under this. Imagine the sweet and gentle atmosphere at home, where he and his siblings huddle together as he cherry-picks the details of the sights he witnessed adventures, ensuring to leave out all the parts unfit for the children to hear. Do you imagine him to smell like a bouquet? Or do you imagine him to smell like home itself? A smoky sweetness that shares the depth of the abyss as it mixes with his body’s chemistry?

Or, imagine him in the battlefield; would this man smell like spring? Or would he smell like a mix of iron, sweat, musk and leather? There you have your answer.

So I’m not all too sure about this fragrance simply because I don’t have a personal reference to go off of, and everyone that I know in real life, as well as every online forum I seem to run into, calls it very light. I even saw someone refer to it as an office-scent? He is not wearing a damn office scent. However, if the citrusy notes are at balance with the leather and nutmeg and it’s offering a conflicting, fresh yet potently warm fragrance? That suits him perfectly.

The second fragrance I’d like to discuss is Royall Yacht by Royall Lyme of Bermuda.

It is another aquatic fragrance and my goodness am I in love. It perfectly balances that need for aquatic accords through citrus and that need for warmth through the warmer notes. It has vetiver, lemon, cedar, musk, and amber (along with a few floral notes but they’re not the focus). Although reading off of the notes, one might imagine this to not be so strong in its aquatic mood due to the citrus being so limited, but reviews will prove otherwise. Most people state that it perfectly encapsulates the feeling of the lulling sea breeze as one sets sail. This does come with its own issue however, and that is the fact that this house in general (Royall) is not… particularly known or admired for the longevity of their fragrances. What I’m saying is that their fragrances don’t last very long at all. I say this from personal experience (due to owning a few fragrances) as well as online observation; perhaps an hour or two at most and then they are as good as gone, and that is if you’re not partaking in any strenuous activities that might make you break out in a sweat. I imagine this wouldn’t even last ten minutes on him, so I don’t, quite see a point in its purchase or wear for such an active man.

The third I’d like to discuss is Opus XIV Royal Tobacco, by Amouage.

The notes are within the picture above: we’re seeing cardamom, musk, vetiver, agarwood, osmanthus, tobacco, licorice, benzoin, bergamot: I’m sure that you can tell that we’ve left the aquatic scent category by now. Though bergamot is present to give a citrusy feel, it’ll most just heighten the intensity of the other notes rather than offer its own unique mood. It’ll be a very dark, carnal, spicy scent with a lot of depth and smokiness to it; perhaps not suited for Ajax, a gentle family-man, but certainly fitting for the 11th Harbinger. I adore the longevity of Amouage fragrances, they’re known for their gorgeous bottles and their interesting ingredient and note selection, and this perfume is no exception.

It is such a mouthwateringly delicious scent, I cannot stress this enough. Also, the handle is made to recall the image of a Khanjar in one’s mind; Khanjars are traditional Middle Eastern and South Asian blades in the shape, usually worn by men on the hip. They’re crafted in the shape of a ‘J’ and their handles are made from a variety of materials, including but not limited to bone (especially camel bone), gold, and silver.

My last and most important association is that of Iberian Leather, by Memo, Paris.

This is such a beautiful winter fragrance; I actually got it not too long ago but I have been so deeply in love with it. It lacks aquatic accords but it has a spiciness that can handle his duality. This fragrance can provide that intimidating, overwhelming, animatic atmosphere but it can also surround one with that comforting, cozy urge to huddle in. I call it a winter fragrance because it is just that heavy and warm; although I’m personally not one to follow the etiquette of limiting scents to seasons as I prefer heavier scents all year round, people have noted this to be perfect for winter use both in real life/personal expedience, and in online discussion. Its notes include cedarwood, vetiver, agarwood, oakmoss, amber, musk, vanilla, osmanthus, cinnamon, bergamot, clove, saffron, sandalwood, and a few flower notes as well. So you’re once again getting that wooziness and that spice but you’re not getting the sweet and tender darkness of tobacco and licorice. It’s still intense and it’s still deeply layered in its scent profile but it’s not dark. It’s something that’ll suit him no matter the situation he is in or who he has in his company, and this is arguably one of the best scents to douse your winter coat in because it is so, comforting, so warm, so cozy. It is so earthen and natural. It feels like sitting next to a bonfire on a cold night. It feels like him. Not to mention, the longevity of this (or, the whole house, rather) is very impressive; you can apply it in the morning and it’ll still very much be on you when you sleep, even if barely. No matter how hot it is outside, how much you’ve been sweating, it will be on you, so help you god.

I would also like to give special mention to a few other perfumes that were close but fell short, such as Russian Leather Memo Paris; Giorgio Armani Acqua Di Gio; Giorgio Armani Black Code; Flåm Memo Paris; Vancleef & Arpels Ambré Imperial; Vancleef & Arpels Tonka Imperial, and more.

With all associations and justifications stated, I’d like to conclude this post by also mentioning what he smells like? A lot of people forget to take into consideration that no fragrance smells the same on everyone; it has a lot to do with your body chemistry (& natural body odour) as well as what you’re doing throughout the day. For example, on some people, floral notes tend to be more prominent, while on others, vanilla or more gourmand notes might appear more prominent instead. Although I can’t speculate much on which notes would be more prominent on him (vanilla; I want to say vanilla) I do feel like he’d smell like a mix of his chosen fragrance and iron. I feel like from being in battle all day, the scent would become… even more him, due to constantly mixing with his own sweat and body odour throughout the day, which then further combines with the unmistakably metallic scent of blood if business requires more extreme measures,

I will say however I imagine his fatui fur-collar cloak to smell like the most comforting thing in the world. I’ve noticed this to be quite common in winter clothing somehow, especially when you wear it quite commonly. One does not realise (and does not care, really) whether they have applied anything on it already and just about on their normal routine, spraying it over and over until it just… seemingly sets in, creating a scent so unique to the wearer because it now smells like them and the fragrance combined. It smells like home, it smells like all the memories of your past winters that you spent with those who love you. It smells like solace and relief and a happy ending and I think he deserves that bittersweet comfort of domestic nostalgia.

[callsignfate]

You couldn't remember.

TW: Mention and talk of death, grief, and other heavy topics. No comfort. Ambiguous Character. Barely edited. Sorry </3

Life unlike most things isn’t meant to have a satisfying end, the movies you’ve watched up until now mostly had endings that left you letting out a sigh of content as the screen faded to black and the comfortable night slowly wined down to a comfortable end.

This end wasn’t satisfying. 

Life is an uncomfortable experience with the chance your movie will end sooner than you’d planned with the exact amount of control you had as you watched the movie. In these quiet moments, you never expected to be content with your progress, that you’d actually try to accept what life has to offer, and with your previous memories that left a sour taste in your mouth and a numb feeling in your head it was hard, but you tried.

So when you looked at her lifeless body lying uncomfortably still you expected something to snap, something to make your mind less fuzzy, in the movies they did not portray grief or guilt in the same way you could feel it now. It wasn’t hitting you yet, that this was the last time you’d see her other than in photos you took in the past. You expected the sky to darken and the rain to start softly pattering down on you, but it didn’t. The morning dew still slowly soaked through your pants, and the sun still shined down on her perfectly. 

Nothing changed in that moment, her eyes glazed over slowly as they looked with a scarily empty stare at the sky that held nothing for you. Tears poured down your cheeks as you slowly blinked them away desperately. You wanted something, anything to make your mind snap out of this emotionless trance it had stuck you in, it felt as if your mind was refusing to accept that she had died. She was dead. You repeat that in your oddly quiet mind, the pleas that you hoped would reach somewhere you couldn't fathom. 

Denial.

Before you stood you ran your hands through her hair one final time, the soft strands of hair felt so soft and comforting as you usually played with her hair while she lay in bed next to you every night, the same smell of hair conditioner made your hand smell with the usual fruity fragrance. You had just helped her pick it out because the store didn’t have her usual favorite. Did she like it? You had forgotten to ask.

You wished in that moment for it to hit you so your mind would react in the way you expected it to, but you were stuck with a blank expression and tears trickling down, another thing you couldn’t control. You were getting tired of losing control, of not having control. She always told you it would be okay, that you would understand why emotions were seemingly harder for you to grasp but even in this moment you didn’t believe her. You wanted to be angry, sad, anything that wasn’t this numb feeling that left you looking like a pale statue next to her.

Grief isn’t fair, but is anything? Why is your mind thinking of everything and anything but this moment right now? You wanted to focus but nothing came to mind other than what you had to do, which was stand up letting her body slowly and gently slide into the wet grass, fold her arms gently over her chest, and grab the metallic chain that held her tags with your shared last name. The clothes you had helped wash and fold still smelt like the detergent you both picked out at the store the other day, over the smell of warm metal that now tainted her usual sweet and clean scent that you had grown accustomed to over the years.

What did others do when they experienced this? Did they speak to them? Is there an etiquette you never learned?  What were you meant to do now? After everything from the first moment you could remember to this very second, was it supposed to rush past you like a summer wind you couldn’t catch? Were the memories of your love supposed to have a cinematic montage in your head while you screamed and begged for this to all change? Nothing could change this, although you wished it could you didn’t know if you were supposed to do something specific. 

Before you could think about it you knelt down and took the ring you had both picked out that day in the expensive overcrowded shop and put it on the chain that her tags hung on, the tags moving against each other as you fumbled with the clasp for a moment before sliding the ring on, letting it fall against the metal tags with a metallic sound that almost mimicked the sound of change in a pocket. Did you remember to take all of the change out of her pockets before you put her pants in the washer last night? You couldn’t remember. 

You couldn’t remember. 

[julibellule]

“Here’s some towels, and uh… I put some shampoo and soap there, for use. The fragrances might not be your type, I’m more of a soft-natured guy,” Stede said almost apologetically.

“Don’t bother. I’ve always wanted to smell like, uh,” Ed grabbed two bottles of shampoo and read the etiquette on each, “Spring flowers, and coconut dreams.”

“Just take your shirt off,” Stede said, making Ed grin to both his ears.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“No,” he said rather firmly (...)

[phoenix-manga]

Ottilie Phosia

CV: Mizuki

Biographical Information

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Birthday: April 5

Starsign: Aries

Height: 175 cm

Eye Color: Bubblegum

Hair Color: Cornflower & Lavender

Professional Status

Dorm: Futterwacken

School Year: 1st Year

Class: 1-A | Student no. 8

Occupation: Student

Club: Gardening Research Club

Best Subject: Alchemy

Fun Facts

Favorite Food: Hors d'oeuvres

Least Favorite Food: Eggplant

Dislikes: Heat and insecticides

Hobby: Collecting butterfly eggs

Talents: Perfume alchemy

Idol Stats

Performance: Voice fit for musical and can recite tongue twisters in a song

Choreography: Often performs in the style of irish tap dancing

Styling Jewel Outfits: Quirky | Elegant

She may have the typical ojou-sama personality with proper manners and etiquette; however, her whimsical attitude is often mixed in. She can’t read the atmosphere sometimes and ends up making things confusing or awkward.

But she is helpful when it comes to studying. All her mind-blowing way of phrasing often get stuck in someone’s head, her parent’s tutoring her also contributed to that.

She definitely would be one of those who would say mind blowing things like “Why call them apartments when they’re built together?” 

Ottilie will probably end up eating weird things in the forest if left by herself. She can’t help but want to eat something very colorful, so someone always has to stop her before anything happens. She always says that she is doing it for discovery, no honey, the medical books states that is NOT edible, you don’t need to discover if it can kill you or not!

Though a lot of her friends and relatives thought she’d be a professor like her parents, she actually wants to make perfumes in the future. She has a home-made pipette that she brought from home to make a variety of scents and fragrances. Her side of the room always has a lot of scented things kept in boxes such as candles, perfume, scented paper, incense sticks and many more.

Whenever she makes a fragrance, she always has colorful smoke swirling around her, sometimes she can make fragrances that form shapes from the smoke when used. That’s because she incorporates her magic along with magical herbs into them.

Hometown: Kingdom of Roses

Family History

Ottilie lives in the Kingdom of Roses, her parents are both professors of a school and they teach philosophy and mathematics. The entire family is an odd bunch, always living by the Hatter’s philosophy and would all quote odd poetry that doesn’t make much sense to others other than themselves. 

Her family may be a bit odd but they are well respected for having so many students to sign up for their classes and getting good grades. They are also of nobility so they are always invited to gatherings and parties.

Ottilie was just as whimsical as her parents, which often made her stick out among other children. But it’s not like anyone could say anything when Ottilie was more well-behaved than most children.

Childhood Memories

Ottilie once experienced the cruelty of nature when she released a wild rabbit she fostered when it was injured, just a few meters away a Hawk flew down and snatched it. She cried for a week and even made a crude drawing of the rabbit and placed it on a fake grave her parents made just to make her feel better. Her parents won’t let her live it down and would always tell guests and friends about it, Ottilie is embarrassed from being reminded.

Ottilie tends to be a bit unpredictable when it comes to incantations and alchemy. She is never one to follow the rules and tends to go into a different direction. It always ends with a chaotic scenario… mostly scent related.

Despite her mishaps, she doesn’t struggle with most of her subjects thanks to her parents who were both teachers. But not a lot of students ask for her notes despite her excellent academic skills because… all of her notes are indecipherable. Littered with riddles and scribbles that make no sense to none other than Ottilie.

Squeaks

Her pet is a Hickory Horned Devil Caterpillar that makes a lot of squeaking noises. Ottilie has a terrarium purse to always carry Squeaks around in.

Unlike other animal companions, Squeaks cannot be heard talking even by other animals oddly enough. But Ottilie can understand his squeaking as if they were words with no problem.

Squeaks is just as odd as his owner. Like a synchronized being, Squeaks gestures when Ottilie gestures.

Her unique magic is called, “Shroomy Sprout”. Just by touching a patch of dirt, she can grow mysterious mushrooms with a variety of effects.

Every mushroom always changes from every little thing she does such as what food she ate, how she felt and even if she was sick. The mushrooms don’t stay there for long and will disappear in a puff of smoke after 10 minutes if not used. 

Ottilie tends to use these mushrooms to make special perfumes that have different after effects depending on what mushroom she used. This type of perfume is not all that popular due to its unpredictability. They were probably used for pranks by a certain someone.

Ignacio Phosia

A Mathematics professor who is fascinated with numbers so much that he arranged his belongings in a certain amount if one plays close attention. His study is his perfectly counted space, he doesn’t like it if the number of items is in disarray. So, he is the only on who can clean his study and no one can enter without permission.

He manages the house budget of course due to his love for numbers. Many would often consult him about finances despite his eccentric personality. Ignacio is quite friendly and outgoing.

But despite being seen with a goofy grin, his smile turns into a scowl if his family is insulted in any way. Other than numbers, he can count the number of flaws and failures of a person had he wanted to. Fear the nice ones, as they say.

Ottilie often gives him perfume, bottled herbs and caterpillar eggs as gifts. Ignacio keeps them in in his study in the highest shelf where you could see but not reach.

Calix Phosia

She was known to be a popular woman who was often sought out by bachelors to wed. But she fell for Ignacio for being whimsical instead of vying for her status and reputation. She just loved how absurd he was and being such a gentleman on top of that.

She was the one who reads poems to Ottilie when she was a child. Which is how Ottilie developed a certain love for the whimsical wonders.

The character’s name, “Ottilie” came from a Google search for the most unique sounding names, while her last name, “Phosia” was made up from the word metamorphosis.

Ottilie’s first design was confusing. The pigtail-curl hairstyle was hard to draw repeatedly.

She was meant to be the weird one of the first-year group. She was supposed to have a butterfly as a pet but instead was given the largest caterpillar, the Hickory Horned Devil.

[mossyxkorok]

The Gift of Forever

Summary: Inspired by the question, when did Zelda move in to the Hateno House? Answering this led to filling in more gaps between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. ZeLink.

—

Link stirred the contents of a cooking pot rhythmically, watching each savory morsel as it tumbled to the surface of a cloudy broth. Steam rose lazily from the stew, curling tendrils around the handle of the ladle, carrying rich earthy scents into the air. He pulled in a deep breath through his nose, notes of charred wood, hearty vegetables and tender meat coalescing into a blissful fragrance that he drank in hungrily. His lips stretched wide, he gazed down at his creation with a grin.

He and Princess Zelda had been in Hateno for a few days, following an extended survey in Faron, and upon arriving, the princess immediately rooted herself in Purah’s lab to study, leaving only sparsely for a meal or a meeting. As usual, Link had accompanied her on her travels, and always made time to cook for the two of them. A trail followed the handle of the ladle as he stirred the thick broth, showing him any moment now, they could feast. 

At this point, serving the dish was dependent on Princess Zelda’s punctuality, and she did insist that she would join him earlier than the day prior. Yesterday, the sun had descended before he surrendered to his empty stomach and ate without her. He peered over his shoulder, down the path to the entrance of the village, and saw the usual clamor of children running and playing. If the princess did not arrive soon, he would send A-Zoom on a top secret mission up the hill to retrieve her—all before bedtime, of course.

Better to request the kid’s help than to deliver a cold bowl to the laboratory again, he thought. His lips creased with the memory of visiting the princess last night, her surprise at his arrival as if he caught her guilty. The only accusation he could hold against her is forgetting to take care of herself, burying her own needs under scholarly expectations. Even a century of time could not erode her resolve. 

Currently, in her research, she was scanning for any mentions or symbolism of Zonai in Sheikah texts, since discovering more about the Zonai would certainly help Hyrule’s future prosperity. Few surviving tomes in the royal archives have mentions of the Zonai people, with cloudy specifics swirling around a brutal war, a Demon King and a powerful artifact. It seemed only the end of Zonai history was recorded, but the princess insisted on continuing the search, for there had to be something to learn from a people revered as gods.

Whereas the Sheikah tucked themselves away, their creations stowed underground, the Zonai took no measures to conceal their existence in Hyrule. Yet, from atop pillars and within labyrinths, there were more questions than answers about the Zonai, and aside from their architectural feats, they left little else behind. Zelda could only assume they met their demise around the war, since accounts of Zonai society disappear shortly after. But what was the artifact, she had asked before, and, how can we protect Hyrule from this Demon King?

Lifting his head, he could see her nearing, and from her appearance, he understood she was no closer to either answer. Her hands were joined at her abdomen, and she was noticeably deep in thought, like she had never left the lab. Something deep within him throbbed with the urge to take her frustration away, the same feeling from long ago, standing behind her while she pleaded to the goddess. Whether it was ancient ruins or holy statues, stone never listened.

She reached him with a weak smile and sat on a stool across from him. He handed her a full bowl, inquiring, “How did research go?”

“Oh, another day of sifting through the piles. Sometimes I wonder how either of them get any work done.”

The state of Purah’s lab did make Link wonder if she learned etiquette from a bokoblin camp instead of Kakariko Village. Seemingly, her assistant paid the mess no mind, but Link would rather avoid dodging papers and books scattered all over the floor.

“There may not be anything to find,” she continued, “Purah nor Symin can recall any mentions of the Zonai in their own studies. Meanwhile, the survey itself has slowed… I don’t think we’ve found anything substantial in quite some time.”

Link’s heart leapt. He wondered if she would consider any findings removed from Zonai civilization as substantial. With all of the personnel combing through the jungle, had no one else made the same connection as him? So close to the stable, nonetheless…

Zelda reentered his focus as she said, “And I’m certainly not getting anywhere, either.” Her eyes drifted to the side, her chest falling with a silent exhale. 

Very rarely since they met, Link could sense that the princess was tired. She wore a perfect camouflage, hiding any hint of fatigue from anyone with an untrained eye, but Link was around her enough to notice a change. Despite her utmost devotion, the majority of her life she spent grasping for something out of reach, but immersed in study of Sheikah technology, she could ignore her shortcomings. Recently, she was involved in the design and development of the new location towers around Hyrule, but that project was now in the construction phase, and she was no engineer. Aside from a lack of discoveries in Zonai archaeology, she had little else to occupy her thoughts now. 

Research groups had been deployed to all of the major sites of Zonai origin throughout Hyrule, but all had met a similar obstacle. There was much to learn about the ancient society from their ruins, but none held any evidence or relics from the catastrophic events outlined in the historical records from the castle. From the time of the Calamity, Zelda had the wisdom that no amount of digging will reveal what does not wish to be found. 

Years ago, as Link haphazardly stumbled upon the memories he lost and the fog cleared from his consciousness, he was struck with a sharp realization: the same problems can follow you for a century. Generations passed while he slept, most of the people he knew one hundred years ago have moved on to the Sacred Realm, but he had been awake long enough to carve out a place for himself. Hyrule had been refurbished in the last century, and although he was still the swordsman, and she the princess, they fit a little differently among the new joints connecting the realm. For one, Zelda had free reign to explore the entirety of Hyrule, no longer confined within her father’s demands. 

The only barriers to the princess’ research had been planted tens of thousands of years ago, with no hints of how to remove them. Exasperated by her studies, she had previously suggested that the only ways she could learn more about the Zonai are if she could talk to spirits or travel back in time, and at times, Link almost agreed. In quiet moments, gazing at the sky together, he could sometimes sense her asking the heavens if its people ever returned.

Regardless of any hindrance, she would never be prohibited from contributing to research, and he would never be prohibited from supporting her. One hundred years ago, he was in constant fear of stepping out of line and being dismissed from his role as her knight attendant. He could only compare the feeling of being accosted by the king on the bridge to her study to the panic and hopelessness of free falling. He never dared imagine he could be sitting here in his home village with her, doing nothing more than sharing a meal. Without a kingdom chaining them to the castle, they could establish their own rules.

For the past few minutes, she had filled the air between them with personal mutterings about the Sheikah integrating their magic with Zonai structures, and at the first opening, he struck.

“Bring your books to my house tomorrow. I think we can agree I keep it a little neater than the lab.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows bounced. “It would be too much of a hassle to carry them there and back.”

He shrugged, “We’ll attach a wagon to Theia”—her golden-bodied horse—“I have some room in my storage nook to keep anything temporarily.”

“A change of scenery would be nice…” She paused, as if mulling over the offer once more, “Well then, let’s meet outside the inn tomorrow morning. Thank you, Link.”

They smiled at each other until Zelda lightly fumbled with her bowl. She righted herself, and Link saw her head turn as the sound of a child’s cheerful shriek caught her ear. She cast a gentle gaze at the kids playing down the path, then chuckled towards the cooking pot, seemingly recalling a memory. Link could think of many that involved the princess with the village children.

“I know I’ve mentioned it before, but,” Zelda began, her grin dissolving. “I do wonder what kind of education those kids are getting.”

“Whatever they find outside,” Link suggested, “Plus what their parents say.”

“And what they hear in town,” Zelda added, shuddering. Images of Hateno’s gossiping ladies and half-dressed shop owners floated through Link’s mind.

She stopped, confirming his suspicions: she would never ask for a favor of such significance. Building a school was her idea alone. It would not address an immediate need for the village, so why interrupt their way of life, he could hear her say. Construction requires labor and money, two things of short supply in Hateno, and Hudson’s company was in the middle of a separate project that she herself had helped orchestrate. As she toiled for others, Link had little concern outside of ensuring she was fed. She deserved the support of the entire kingdom, and he was happy to provide for her, for she had lifted him up so many times before. 

He was all too familiar with shoving his desires into a dark unseen corner of his mind, but unlike the princess, he could more easily coax them out. His fugue from his resurrection had freed him from his inhibitions, but with Zelda, he knew better than to distract her. His pouch felt heavy with the secret it carried—it could be the leverage she needed to vault over this hurdle, but the object held a significance that he was unprepared to reveal just yet. Guilt pooled in his stomach, but he assured himself she could wait one more night. 

“You could always send them up to Purah to do some experiments on them,” he suggested.

Sighing, she explained, “She would just find a way to steal their youth.”

“They can learn from that!”

She lightly kicked his shin in jest. “I would prefer if they stayed alive!”

They laughed and laughed together. The timing is right, he told himself, a warmth spreading throughout his body. Just have to wait until morning.

——

A pale light splashed over the hills of Hateno as the sun crept higher into the sky. Tiny hands wove flowers into a silky white mane, following no particular pattern or form, directed only by youthful spontaneity. Blue, pink, red and purple blooms clung to the golden mare’s hair, like she was encrusted with bright jewels. Link positioned himself behind the four children, observing as they each decorated a section of mane, nodding with approval every time they emphatically presented their progress.

Before the sun rose, Link had woven many braids into Theia’s hair. He divided her long white mane into two sections down the spine, plaiting only one, so the braids laid on a layer of loose hair. He had the idea for the style while he was gathering wildflowers in his front yard by torchlight; he knew the princess would be awake shortly after dawn. For the freshest blossoms, he was prepared to lose some sleep, providing only the best for Princess Zelda.

His eyes flitted from the row of children to the entrance of the inn, and he detected his pulse rising with each passing minute he watched them decorate. To no avail, he tried to suppress his nerves, told himself that Zelda would love anything the children helped create, but he knew he was truly afraid of what he had prepared for later. For days, as she studied, he tweaked his strategy, giving it the attention he once reserved for plotting military operations.

A week ago, what began as a lone night stroll through the jungle turned into a quest of novel discovery. In the distance, he saw a bright blue glow like a luminous stone, but he had never seen a stone deposit shift and move. He stepped over the gate to the dondon pen and took out one of the multitudes of luminous stones he had in his pocket for comparison—he never imagined the creature would eat it! And how could he possibly stop there? 

After the gentle beast had scooped the fifth stone from Link’s hand, a realization arose in his mind: what if it was not healthy for the creature to eat rocks? Well, Link had tried it at least once since rousing from his slumber. Nerves high, he retreated back to the stable with a plan to return the next night, and when he did, there was a different shining object waiting for him, a diamond. He would have told Zelda about the encounter, except once he came across the crystal, he was instantly overtaken by fantasies of her in a billowing white dress, bouquets and tearful ladies around. An opportunity like this would not arise again. 

And perhaps, just maybe, the fantasy of his was not so far removed from reality. Even he had noticed her lingering glances and touches, and how she never resisted when he pushed his luck helping her from her horse or leaning over her studies. If Hylia was to spare one more blessing, their relationship could take on a different form, progress into something even more precious. Since he found it (and cleaned it, to be safe), the gem had stayed deep within his pouch, but like a pebble in his boot, he was keenly aware of it with each step.

His head shot up when he heard the creak of the entrance door to the Ton Pu Inn. In the doorway stood Zelda, who immediately noticed her horse, her expression just as surprised as Link’s. 

“Scatter!” Ordered Link. A chorus of gleeful cries ensued as the group of kids dispersed at full speed. With a hand clenched at her chest, Zelda descended the stairs, her eyes still wide.

“Good morning, Princess.”

“What’s all this?” She inquired, watching the children run in every direction.

“I just had to stop these troublemakers from vandalizing your horse,” he explained jovially, leading Theia around to show the princess the children’s work.

“Oooh…” Her face glowed with admiration as her eyes, as bright as a meadow in summer, followed the crooked pattern of flowers in her horse’s mane. “It’s lovely, thank you.”

They shared a smile before Link sharply exhaled, patting the side of his thigh. “Let’s get going!” he said, gesturing to the wagon he had borrowed for the trip. They hooked it up to Theia, and Link walked alongside her as Zelda rode the horse to the lab perched on the hill. When they arrived at Link’s home, Zelda organized the books while Link prepared a meal, and after they ate, she retreated upstairs while Link completed some other tasks around the house. 

He stood over the sink, back to the princess, and checked over his shoulder—he could only see the crown of her golden hair, her face parallel to the desk. His heartbeat thumping, he extracted the diamond from his pouch, twisting it in front of him, watching it reflect the soft illumination around. It shined with glossy blues and pinks, catching light and transforming it, and Link was hit with a sudden impulse to polish it, to make it more extravagant for her. 

“Link,” the princess called from beyond the bannister. His heart lurched as he shoved the item back in his pouch. “Did I leave a notebook down there? It’s brown with a red pattern on the front.” 

He frantically scanned the kitchen, looking for the journal that matched her description. “Y-yes. I’ll bring it up to you,” he returned, once he found it on the edge of the dining table. He held the book to his sternum for a moment, waiting for the tension in his chest to abate. He inhaled slowly, and with one last paranoid pat on his pouch, pressed forward.

Ascending the stairs, his body told him to expect a battle. His veins surged with the same sensation that had preceded so much pain and loss in his life, but also glory. If it meant waking up to her voice again, he would never hesitate to step between the princess and certain death, and so, he kept marching. His legs felt rigid, but some force of gravity pulled him nearer to her. Atop the landing, when he saw her, she was grace embodied, sliding a fingertip down a page in the middle of a thick book, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Once his breath returned, he approached her, bending over the desk so their noses were practically touching. Heat leapt from her cheeks, grazing his face, as he raised the leather bound book to his chest. He was close enough to smell her sweet skin and count the stars within her shining eyes. His blood ran hot and his muscles twitched with the urge to flee, but before he could reconsider his next action, he said:

“Is it this one?” His pulse beat wildly in his ears, but his eyes remained soft and light.

“Link…” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He nodded and took a half-step back, smoothly, like gliding on ice. He swallowed hard, the only indication he showed of the fire burning up his scalp.

“And I must thank you for the invite,” she said softly, like she was telling a secret.

“Zelda, you are always welcome here. There’s nowhere in Hyrule where you’re not.”  

She blinked at his words, no sound passing her lips.

“While we were at the Lakeside Stable,” he continued, “I heard everyone either talking about the dondons or the survey. You bring people together, you help and inspire them and there’s nothing you do without others’ well-being in mind.”

He lifted one of her hands, lightly holding it between his. His knee bent independently of his mind, his thoughts trailing far behind his body.

“All those years ago, I made a promise that I would always protect you, and every day, I renew that promise.”

He cupped a hand over hers and looked into her eyes, bright emeralds swimming with emotion. He had never been more certain, hers was the only face he needed to see, now and forever; the only voice he needed to hear, guiding him through this life and the next. After his century long sleep, when he was able to remember her, really remember her, his end goal became hazy. He did not awaken after death for revenge on the demon that killed him, he only wanted to rescue the princess, for her smile was the only reward he needed. Victory meant little if he could not spend it with her.

“You are the reason I am living today, and every day, you give my life meaning,” Link stated.

From his pouch, he extracted the uncut diamond, a shining chunk of eternity, and pinched it delicately between his fingers.

“I found this—in Faron. With it, I want to give you a choice.” He slid the gemstone into her hand. “Make yourself a ring, or sell it and pay Bolson to build your school.”

She touched her chest and a single sob escaped her before a smile unraveled, stretching across her whole face. Through tearful laughter, she answered, “You know I would never choose the first one.”

He snickered with her, along with a final request, “And please. Stay here, with me.”

“On one condition.”

He looked up from his position before her, reveling in her presence like the goddess she is. He was prepared to climb the tallest mountain in Hyrule or swim across the sea if she only hinted at it. She made his struggle worth it, every cut or bruise or fall he took for her, even when he could not remember, it was for her. Everything from finding the sword to becoming her knight and confronting death itself was for this moment. He nodded expectantly for her word, his mouth half ajar in a daze.

“Kiss me.”

[ay-chuu]

hioooo I finally decided to make an order, take as long as you need for it :33, well I would like headcanons for pomefiore with a fem mc who used to be a stubborn and naughty little girl but after graduation, she became an icon in cinema and fashion like the divine audrey hepburn, I mean all that air that radiated fragile and radiant, looking both childish and feminine, sweet and graceful, well in summary mc being Audrey hepburm version twisted Wonderland (* ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟthank you and take care <3

Twisted Blonde

Pairing: Pomefiore students x fem!reader

Warning: The "blonde" in the title and headcanons is referring to "dumb/smart blonde" roles, so please dont take it as appereance reference <3

A/N: Hi love, sorry for late responding. Here you go <3 Hope you'll like it!

Vil Schoenheit:

You can turn to the best person in the world if you wish. Vil will remember the old you and hold a secret grudge and jealousy. He was able to grasp your talent when he first saw you, but! With your behavior, you can't even go near the dorm, let alone study with him. Vil doesn't like spoiled and mischievous, oh unless you want a first hand etiquette lesson from him ;) (Vil... calm down man...)

Still... Vil can't hold back the voices in his heart for very long. And the reason it came to light was one day when he compared you to Epel. He got weird when he saw that sweet face and kind smile in the magazine one night. Just like Epel, you had a distorted but good personality. Maybe that's why you were here... "Twisted" in Wonderland.

One day, you sent him a sincere letter apologizing for your past behavior. And that really impressed Vil because you didn't have the personality and the place to be praised without effort like Neige, or you didn't give up on your stubbornness like Epel. (And you didn't take pride in nonsense like him but he will never admit that...)

Let's say he couldn't swallow his pride and took you to a date and made you have the best night despite his rude behavior.

Oh Romeo, Juliet can change personality many times over... But you're in love with her, remember? (;

Rook Hunt:

Rook is the only one who will accept you both before and after. He finds any personality trait beautiful, let's say you crack an egg on the guy's head. He will praise the way you shoot and the way you show emotion ✋️ However, the person who he fall in love with will be the next you. Because oh, in the name of beauty, the fragrance and dignity of a grown flower that has discovered itself... who wouldn't fall in love with you, Mon amour

One day, he went to one of your theater plays and started crying in the middle of the skit for the ballerina role you played. Well... although the audience found it strange, he just saw it as a flow of emotions. Ah, you beautiful black swan, how beautifully you describe yourself.

You were just shocked when you noticed the man in the middle of the game, Rook, has always been a strangely fascinating mystery to you. So, to both cover the sweet wounds from your past and shoot through the heart with an arrow through the receptive eye of a hunter, you gently sent him a kiss at the end of the show and pointed backstage with your body language.

After the coffee and conversation on that set, Rook wanted to text Vil excitedly to let him know that he had found his true love.

Ah, black swan, let your heart steal your passion from you with the greed of his heart you hit him with an arrow, let your heart be so greedy that its love fills it...    

Epel felmier:

Epel admired you a lot, even though he treated you a little differently than vil did. Because you were brave and fearless enough to do any kind of behavior that he couldn't. And frankly... After your change, when he looked at you, he saw the shadow of himself. But he was no longer the angel and you were the devil. You were the complete opposite. Like black and white.

Epel, who was already impressed by you from the very beginning, admired and emulated you in the show you gave to warm the people of the village in his town, no matter how deeply he refused and wanted to defend his manhood. He wants to play games like this too! Why is it that only gentlemen prefer blondes, after all, aren't blondes is the one who decide to end?

After the show, you shook the hand of Epel's grandmother with a sweet smile. . "Hello... I didn't know seeing you would bring so much happiness..." Epel said, trying to maintain the tone of his voice and the beating of his heart. The ex thought, he loved you more. Oh dear, opposites used to attract, don't you know, sweet poison apple?

That night, he gave you a tour of his town, and both he and his family pressured you to stay there a little longer. Well... you couldn't say no to the beautiful face and the kind grandmother. Even after leaving town, your conversations with Epel have progressed quite a bit and are starting to reach your desired ranks. Still, if he didn't had Rook, that stupid boy would adored you too much to not understand that his feelings are love.

What do you prefer, miss lorelei? A kiss or a diamond? Oh don't be afraid of choice! Because this lover can be both your poisonous kiss and the most beautiful diamond that suits your hand...

[fateandloveentwined]

poetry lines befitting MCS and XJY

These are mostly chinese tang shi and song ci poetry quotes, with a great biased amount from Su Shi because OP doesn't know better. Crude, 5-minute english translations below. There are lines I semi-made up or adapted from fandom/cpop songs (that is, most of Xiao Jingyan's lines), ngl OP is rather embarrassed of them because they aren't good at all looking back now but we'll just leave them here or else XJY would end up with zero quotes.

梅长苏 Mei Changsu

想那日束髪从军，想那日霜角辕门，想那日挟剑惊风，想那日横槊凌云。 ——夏完淳

Think to the day I tied back my hair and enlisted. Think to the day the horn rang at the frostbitten tents, think to the day I danced my sword making the sound that deafens the wind. Think to the day I took to the lance, and it pierced through the skies, rising higher than the clouds. — Xia Wanchun

将士百战身名裂。 向河梁、回头万里，故人长绝。 易水萧萧西风冷，满座衣冠似雪，正壮士、悲歌未彻。 ——辛弃疾

The warrior fights a hundred battles, yet what remains is his severed reputation. He looks to the bridge over the river, thousands of miles back, past acquaintances forever gone. In another life, over the howling of the west wind and the cold Yi rivers, the banquet sits, clothes adorned in snowlike white. The courageous man strides through the blizzard, the song of lament never ceasing. — Xin Qiji

零落成泥碾作尘，只有香如故。 ——陆游

The plum blossoms wither and drift to the ground, crushed into earthly soil and dust. The prevailing fragrance is what remains. — Lu You

亦余心之所善兮，虽九死其犹未悔。 ——屈原

So long as this is what my heart longs for and treasures, though I die nine deaths, my heart does not regret. — Qu Yuan

君臣一梦，今古空名。 ——苏轼

Lords and lieges ebb into nothing but a dream; in the river of time transcending present and past vain titles remain, cast into the void. — Su Shi

无波真古井，有节是秋筠。 ——苏轼

The heart is at peace like the ancient well that does not start ripples; the integrity is as the autumn bamboos, steadfast and unfaltering. — Su Shi

舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗。 ——苏轼

The battleship moves a thousand miles, ensigns enshrouding the sky. He pours out wine by the riverside, holds out his lance, and writes verses as he speaks. — Su Shi

对一张琴，一杯酒，一溪云。 ——苏轼

Facing but a guqin, a glass of wine, a stream of cloud. — Su Shi

江山如画，是我心言。 ——风起时

The rivers and mountains of the kingdom outstretched before me as moving as in art: this is my heart’s will. — from the song “Feng Qi Shi”, when the wind blows

战骨碎尽志不休，冰心未改血犹殷。 ——改自《赤血长殷》、王昌龄

Bones completely crushed from the battle, yet aspirations unwavering. The heart has not changed, and the blood flows red still. — adapted from the song “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red, and poet Wang Changling

袖手妙计权倾变，敛眸笑谈意了然。 ——改自《赤血长殷》

With folded arms, he devises labyrinthine strategies, and the sceptre of power sways and shifts. He shrouds his gaze modestly and in conversations of small smiles, he perceives astutely the intention of men. — adapted from the song “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red

萧㬌琰 Xiao Jingyan

潜龙一朝御风翔，长歌挽弓射天狼。 ——《长喑》

The submerged dragon rises one day to ride the winds. Singing high and long; the bow is drawn pointed to the invading Sirius. — from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here

挑灯殿阙思悄然，闻钤行宫寝无眠。 ——改自白居易

Washed in the raised lamps of the imperial palace, thoughts whisper in grievance. The bell rings at the Jiu’an grounds, and he lies abed sleepless. — adapted from The Song of Everlasting Sorrow by Bai Juyi

驰骋沙场繁华梦，谈笑鸿儒君臣纲。 ——改自《致陛下书》、刘禹锡

Dreams fly to the flurry of gallops in the battlefield, flourishing dreams of splendour and joy. In pleasant dialogue with the scholars, civility forces polite smiles back into the etiquette between lords and lieges. — adapted from the song “Zhi Bi Xia Shu”, a letter to Your Majesty, and Liu Yuxi

铁马并辔封疆，几回魂梦游；更鼓落夜未央，笔下兴亡断。 ——取自《长喑》、《赤血长殷》

Armoured horses riding in parallel at the borderlands — how many times has the soul wandered to such dreams of the past. The hourly drums sound ceaseless through the long night; under the emperor's brush writes the fate of prosperity and declination. — adapted from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here, and “Chi Xue Chang Yan”, the noble blood flows red

揽尽山河只手倾，昂冕袖手瞰苍生。 ——改自《长喑》

The future of his kingdom sweeps into a tilt of his hand. With crown upheld, he folds his arms in his sleeves awatching humanity. — adapted from the song “Chang Yin”, the Long Darkness found here

咫尺抚眉峰，万丈叠远峰；梦底枕笑纹，惊风掀水纹。 ——《致陛下书》

Up close the furrowed brows are smoothed. The ten thousands of feet stretch before the kingdom, converging as mountains at a distance. In the deepest dreams the markings of a smile lie; he disturbs the wind, which marks and rips tides in the tumultuous waters. — adapted from the song “Zhi Bi Xia Shu”, a letter to Your Majesty

Two (three) things to note:

My dying obsession with Su Shi, sorry I can’t help it that perhaps over half of the all the poetry I know is from him;

To be really fair, my favourite description of Mei Changsu is 运筹帷幄之中，决胜千里之外, used in describing Zhang Liang in Si Maqian's Records of the Grand Historian. He plots strategies in the tent of the army; he determines the victory of the battle thousands of miles from the front of the battlefield.

As for my favourite depiction of Lin Shu, it is definitely Su Shi’s description of Cao Cao: 舳舻千里，旌旗蔽空，酾酒临江，横槊赋诗。 The battleship moves a thousand miles, ensigns enshrouding the sky. He pours out wine by the riverside, holds out his lance, and writes verses as he speaks. Xin Qiji’s verse above just fits the entire story of Mei Changsu so much, it deserves a mention.

I was assembling/making these lines up for something back then and so just listed whatever came to mind (for reasons I know not I kept on listing stuff for MCS, but maybe XJY was the typical good emperor kind of person so wasn't as inspiring coming up with quotes for him).

If there are lines of poetry you find really befitting the two characters, we're more than interested starting a thread here just for that purpose.

[champagnemoon]

On my last flight I was sitting next to a lady wearing Mancera Roses and Chocolate and you could smell her as soon as you stepped in the plane lmao I was glad I got the seat next to her because I’m the opposite of scent sensitive but people really need to practice fragrance etiquette

[unsoundedcomic]

Bastion x Lemon hatefuck :3

Adelier was a weapon of a man: hard as a stave, stubborn as a bolt stuck in a clavicle, as piercing about the eyes as the two ugly swords on his back. Upon their first meeting, Bastion had noticed those swords before anything else. A pair of them? Even a spellwright knew it was foolish to have both hands harried by weapons rather than carry a blade and buckler, or parrying knife. Was the idiot so arrogant?

“Where is he?” Bastion asked today, entering the side chapel designated for their meeting and seeing only the Soud, “I don’t have time for you.”

“I’ll have to do,” Adelier answered, flickering his attention from a newspaper to the entering Black Tongue. Bastion felt well-sodden by those hateful, piss-coloured eyes. “Besides,” he continued, “There’s nothing left for him to say to you. The plot is settled, the date is in stone, and unless you’ve lost your nerve or decided you can’t do what’s demanded, what more is there to discuss?”

“Payment,” snapped Bastion, “I would have all of it. Now.”

“Creditors breathing down your neck?”

“Something like that.” Bastion fingered the torc at his throat, habitually moved to readjust it. Of course the yoke of Silver hadn’t budged in ten years. Its reaching wires made themselves known; the familiar sting and tug beneath his skin. Adelier regarded it, and his contempt was searing.

“The arrangement’s settled, Ilgan Yag. Remove yourself from this sacred place if you’re only here to whinge for coin like a needy whore.”

“I have expenses,” said Bastion reasonably, ”I’d as well explain cookery to a coon hound as my art to some pissmop soldier, but I must procure an assistant and several rare Materials. This operation will not be as simple as retooling a fucking plod mask.”

Something ticked in the Soud’s jaw; some twitch of emotion that would have lost him money at the gambling hall. Bastion laughed to see it. Two swords. Two swords! “Write it all out,” Adelier said, swallowing, and dropping his eyes, “I will pass it along.”

The sudden vulnerability was a heady fragrance pulling Bastion forward; a break in the impatient soldier’s facade. The boy was so young, really. Soud were an opaque people, but still transparent in their way. There was no subtle dance of etiquette to tease out their age. It was always naked on their face and their body. This Soud was so, so young - a green hedgeapple, hard, wooden, but newly formed and far from ripe. Bastion wanted to bare his teeth against him, see how hard he’d have to bite down to break skin.

He crossed the room. As he walked, Bastion felt wires crinkle like hands around his hips. Did the wires trace his movements? Or were they strings commanding his puppet limbs? Ah, how long had it been since the difference was even discernible!

Coiled, Adelier didn’t flinch as Bastion neared. The Black Tongue raised his hand and faintly touched the curve of his wicked nails to the sharp plane of the other man’s cheek. Adelier looked like he wanted to strike him, but Bastion knew he wouldn’t. He was needed. “I like you much better,” he laughed, tucking a few strands of blond behind his ear, “She does not share my opinion, but that only makes me like you more. You would have been a Black Tongue in another life. You’d sacrifice anything to get what you want. You would become anything it needed you to become.”

“It’s not about what I want.”

Bastion sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “You don’t have a very high opinion of Ssael, do you? Is he so helpless that you must do all his work for him? You must scheme and plot and guess at his wishes rather than trust him to operate in his own time frame?”

“Such trust easily becomes an excuse for inaction and sloth. I’ve seen it in Shadwe Grandvin-”

Bastion murmured something just beyond audibility, and darted forward as Adelier spasmed backwards. The soldier reached for one of those ugly swords but Bastion’s pymary was too swift. The Soud’s muscles seized up, his yellow eyes fluttered, and Bastion caught him like a knight catching a swooning damsel in one of those ridiculous courtyard plays. He slid a knee forward so Adelier bonelessly straddled it as he dropped, and then Bastion collapsed his lips atop his own.

Purple weed, wine, warm and sweaty masculinity. Bastion drank deeply of him, crushing his shoulders to the chapel wall and grinding his prick against his knee. Adelier didn’t return the kiss but he made no noise of protest either. Bastion felt him straining against the brief paralysis, left strength enough only to brace his legs and back, but even his head listed on his neck. Bastion seized his face. He dragged his teeth over his cheek, bit his jaw hard enough to mark it, chewed the rough late afternoon gold sprouted there and reflected on its flavour.

“I’ll take fine care of you,” Bastion whispered, exulting. The soldier’s lips were turning blue. His paralyzed frame couldn’t draw a breath, “You and your... one... two...” Bastion worked his knee thoughtfully against the other’s crotch and snorted with mirth, ”Three swords.”

Desperation seized the Soud in a violent paroxysm. Bastion ended the spell. A trail of inky nothingness broke from his body like his shadow, and Bastion sailed away upon it, leaving the Soud to drop to his knees and gasp for air.

"I'll arrange an invoice, then~"

[lyriumlullaby-ao3]

WIP tag game <3

i was tagged by the lovely @illusivesoul, thank you so much!!

i'm gonna tag @broodwolf221, @starstruckkittyface, @jazzmckay, and anybody else who wants an excuse to show off part of their WIP!

seriously. tag me. i love this shit lmao

okayyyy i really struggled to pick a bit to share, but then i remembered this cute, tropey scene i wrote that immediately precedes Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts in my longfic that i don't think i've shared! it's Miri (my inky) and Cullen as they're still in their awkward "oh my god i think i like you" phase lmao. hope you enjoy! <3

Miri found the gardens to be rather sterile. They were too carefully groomed, the angles made where the paths that wound between hedges met were too sharp, and the flowers seemed dull—too perfect in their appearance, and entirely lacking in their scent. It was disappointing to her, and especially so here, on the outskirts of the Dales, of all places. The Keeper and hahrens of her clan had always told fanciful stories of the beauty of the Dales at the time of Halamshiral, and while Miri highly doubted that they were completely true, these gardens could never compare even to what she’d seen in the Emerald Graves. They were too domesticated, too tamed by human hands—just as the Dales themselves were now, she supposed, all these ages since their fall. She had longed to leap from her horse and run laughing into the forests she’d seen to the south of here on their journey, tugging Solas along with her to explore all the things he’d missed during those weeks he’d been gone, and now the soles of her feet itched with the same desire. 

Still, it was quiet here, and Josephine had yet to find her to pester her about more etiquette or dancing lessons, so she supposed she couldn’t really complain. Miri contented herself with pulling at the strings of the Fade with her fingertips to make some of the plants grow a little wild, spilling out of pots and over walkways and fixing the uninspiring blossoms so that the gardens were filled with their fragrance. She had just made several new flower buds bloom on a gardenia bush, its sweet aroma wafting around her as she closed her eyes to admire her handiwork. Keeping them shut as she began stepping away to continue, Miri stumbled unexpectedly into something very large and very solid behind her. Strong hands grasped her by the arms and kept her from falling, and she jumped as her eyes flew open, spinning around and backing away quickly. 

Her heart rate slowed some when she looked up into bright eyes shining gold in the sunlight filtering through the treetops overhead and realized it was just Cullen. Miri let out a breath, chuckling as she clutched at her chest. “Commander! You startled me, I didn’t hear you approach.”

“I can see that, Inquisitor,” he hummed, that crooked smile of his pulling at his scar as he turned her usual joke back around on her. He looked better today than he had the last several weeks, even after their lengthy journey. The shadows under his eyes were all but gone, and he was freshly shaven again. His withdrawals must not be bothering him as much as usual. “Although I feel I must tell you, I’ve been here for some time, sitting right over there,” he teased, gesturing at an overly ornate marble bench behind himself where a book lay abandoned. “It was really you who approached, not me.”

“Ah, that explains it. I can usually hear you coming a mile away with all that plate and mail you wear. Don’t you ever take that off?” Miri joked back.

Cullen flushed, looking away and rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “What? Oh, I, uh… Of course I do, it’s not as if I sleep in it, and I do have to bathe sometimes—” his teeth clenched and his flush deepened as Miri fought back a giggle at his expression. He was so easy to fluster—he almost did it to himself. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Fixing their horrible flowers,” Miri replied, pulling a face.

Now it was Cullen’s turn to laugh. “‘Horrible?’ What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re terrible!” Miri scoffed, rolling her eyes slightly as a smile tugged at her lips. “They’re all form and no substance. They don’t even smell like anything.”

Cullen bent over the shrub she’d just been blooming and lifted a hand to bring one of its flowers to his nose as he inhaled deeply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—it smells like a flower,” he replied, his expression bemused.

“Well, I already fixed that one,” Miri grinned. “What about you, what are you doing out here?”

Cullen flushed again, suddenly very interested in his boots. “Ah, well, I’m… uh, keeping clear of a number of… very enthusiastic young ladies inside the chateau. And a couple of enthusiastic young men, as well, I suppose. I’m not sure exactly who they are, but they wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried staying in my room, but they wouldn’t stop knocking and calling through the door,” he sighed. “I’m hoping they won’t look for me here.”

Miri couldn’t suppress her laughter this time. “You’re… hiding? From some girls?” 

“I’m not hiding! I simply don’t want to be bothered by them, I have more import—” he cut off, freezing as the sound of several tittering voices reached them from just down the path. They sounded like they were just around the corner. Cullen’s face blanched as Miri turned to look over her shoulder, and then all at once, Miri felt strong arms wrap around her torso and she was tugged into a gap in the hedges. 

Cullen held her pressed up against him in the space between the prickly branches—there wasn’t really even room for one average sized person in this little hollow, let alone two, especially if one of them happened to be as large as the Commander was. The hard plate of his cuirass pressed against her chest uncomfortably and restricted her breathing. Or, she thought it was his cuirass, anyway—why else would she suddenly be struggling to get enough air? There wasn’t any room for Miri to step away from him, and she could feel the heat of his hand pressing into her back as she craned her neck back to look at him. He lifted one finger to his lips, begging her to stay silent, but it was unnecessary—Miri couldn’t even breathe as his lyrium tang pressed into her lungs, the smell of it like the scent of a lightning storm on the wind just before the rain began. There was no way she could have made a sound even if she’d wanted to. 

Miri watched as Cullen’s eyes darted back and forth, panicked as the voices drew nearer. His gloved finger was still pressed up against his lips, puckered slightly outwards as he silently hushed her. She felt her breath catch when his eyes fell to hers, seemingly realizing for the first time how closely he held her to him, and a flush crept up his neck as she watched, but it was too late—the voices of Cullen’s admirers were just outside their hiding spot now. If either of them moved, they’d be discovered for sure. 

Cullen didn’t look away from her as she had expected—he held her gaze for an impossibly long moment while they waited for the voices to leave again. Miri felt frozen there, unable to move even if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly. His finger slowly left his lips, the rest of them uncurling from against his palm as his hand fell to her face. Gently, he lifted a tiny braid that had fallen loose from the rest of her style and into her face, tucking it reverently back behind her left ear where it belonged. Miri shivered at his touch when his soft glove brushed against the sensitive skin of her pointed ear, making a chill run down her spine. The voices were gone—but Cullen’s grip didn’t loosen on her waist. She watched as his eyes fell to her mouth, licking his lips and swallowing hard—

And then he released her. She stumbled backwards out of the hedge, nearly straight into the gardenia bush, gasping for breath. “Cullen, what in the Void—”

“I’m sorry, I could hear them coming, I panicked, and—Maker’s breath,” he mumbled, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for words.

A nervous giggle tore itself from her throat as Miri tried desperately to find something to do with her hands—what did normal people do with their hands in normal situations? “I noticed,” she gasped, still giggling. “Why did you pull me in with you?”

“I… I don’t know,” he breathed, looking at her strangely. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Cullen, you don’t have to—”

“Would you just—” he hissed, his brow furrowing for a moment and his hands coming up to slice at the air dramatically before he softened and his voice evened back out, “—let me apologize? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t thinking, I just…”

“You just reacted. I understand. It’s fine, Cullen, really—you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Miri was surprised at how true the words felt as she said them. A templar had just grabbed her, pulled her into a bush, and held her flush against his body—touching her rather intimately, while he was at it—and she wasn’t uncomfortable with it? Maybe she was ill, she thought, pressing her cool hands to her flushed cheeks. 

But he isn’t a templar, something in Miri whispered, making her look back up at him again to find him watching her. Cullen’s face was still flushed pink to the tips of his ears, his lips parted as if he were about to say something. Miri didn’t know how it was always like this with him—either talking over one another, rushing to speak as words tumbled out of her before she’d even thought them through, or standing stock still, suspended in silence, staring at one another as seconds stretched stiffly between them, both waiting for the other to blink first. There was something about it that made her think of an the halla she’d accidentally killed when her magic first manifested, held motionless in a pillar of ice, though still alive, straining against the magic that held it as it slowly suffocated. 

Cullen leaned slowly towards her, and for a moment, Miri’s brain blanked out as his tall frame bent over hers, his face so close she could hear the quiet sound of his breath—and then he straightened again, twirling one of the fresh gardenia blossoms from the plant behind her in his nimble fingers. He flushed a bit deeper then, looking a little unsure of himself once more, then lifted the flower towards her stem first, a question in his one raised eyebrow. 

Miri wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, her mind still scrambling to catch up after the last few minutes, but she nodded anyway, and he gently tucked the bloom into her hair where he’d just brushed it over her ear. “These are lovely, Lavellan. It would be a shame to leave them all here where no one will truly appreciate what you’ve done with them. You should take one.” 

He grew bashful then when she didn’t reply, stunned into silence. Cullen stepped back from her, fiddling with one of his gloves with the opposite hand. “Well then, I’ll, uh. I’ll leave you to enjoy the gardens. Inquisitor,” he murmured, nodding at her and then hurrying away.

Miri reached a hand up to touch the flower tucked into her hair. “Thank you,” she whispered after him, far too late. He was already gone.

[hetasibs]

Sirocco Sweat

Nyo!France x Monaco. Sister x sister, girlcock, mild cnc.

~~~

"Marianne…"

"What."

"I can't sleep."

The feminine personification of France rolled over, entangling herself in the light bedsheets. Bergamot and mimosa fragrances drifted in with the summer night's breeze.

"Why not?"

"It's too fucking hot."

Marianne groaned.

"Take a cold shower or have some Clairette blanche or something. Your frangine needs her beauty sleep."

She hoped Monaco would take the hint and give her peace, but she did quite the opposite and wriggled under the covers.

"And how is this supposed to help you cool down, Lucille?"

"It's not. But if I'm going to be awake all night, I'd rather spend it doing something I enjoy."

Marianne smiled despite herself.

"Am I something?"

Lucille didn't comment on that, instead whining, "You never visit anymore. I'm all alone here."

"Oh yes, with your racecars, casinos and red carpet events. Truly, what a deprived and difficult life lives Lucille."

"You're so mean!"

"I'm telling the truth."

"Fine. I guess you won't have my derrière this night."

Marianne sat up, the sheets being forced off her body and slipping to the floor.

"And what if I take it whether you like it or not?"

Lucille froze, a mix of panic and intrigue on her face.

"You wouldn't. Would you?"

Her sister smiled.

"Keep grating on my nerves and find out."

The younger woman's head spun with machinations, tallying risk against reward. Reaching her decision, she smiled wickedly and groped Marianne's enormous, soft, uncovered breasts as they swayed tantalisingly above her.

"Look at you," the Monégasque yawned, giving one of her nipples a pinch for good measure. "You've gone soft. Who ever would think you once ruled the world's third-most impressive empire?" She really, really enjoyed the twitch that elicited from her big sister's eyebrows. "All that chocolate and stroopwaffel up in Bruxelles is really getting to you. But what harm, bet you just love being Germany's c-"

She barely even register how fast it happened, but Lucille went from being comfortably lying down to shoved to her knees beside the bed, her grande sœur towering over her. Her cock strained against her tiny silk panties, Marianne's thicker and far longer member slapping her roughly on the face. It dragged its way slowly down, leaving a trail of stinking pre across her petite features.

"I advise you not to finish that sentence," warned Marianne, soft as a purr and sharp as damascened steel.

Lucille gulped.

"-ock… sleeve?"

A firm hand on the back of her head guided her lush lips to the base of the older woman's dick. In the sweltering milieu, Marianne was sweating even more than usual, and Lucille drank deep of her big sister's musk. Her tongue dragged its way along, right to the tip, where Lucille opened her mouth on reflex and her sister's cock wasted no time in pushing its way in.

The young lady worked her tongue around the glans, so swollen she wondered if it mustn't be painful, and oozing so much she was already having to greedily swallow. She didn't have a chance to get used to it before her throat was being used as a fucktoy and her entire focus was on breathing.

"You're not out of practice at all, I see," mused Marianne. Was that a note of jealousy in her voice? Lucille decided to push her luck and flipped her sister off. The Frenchwoman huffed in her characteristically arrogant manner and rolled her eyes. "Very mature, you little whore. I wonder what it'll take to put some etiquette in you?"

With two handfuls of her sister's hair, she fucked even rougher, if at all possible, Lucille feeling spit bubble through her nose while Marriane's thick pubes caressed her with their je ne sais quoi texture. Her eyes rolled back and her delicately painted nails dug into the plump tush of the voluptuous figure railing her.

All of a sudden it stopped. Lucille made a garbled noise of disappointment as her sibling's cock popped wetly from her mouth.

"Turn around," her older sister ordered. Lucille remained kneeling, gazing at her hypnotically swaying cock, rising slightly to try and get her lips on it again.

"I said turn around."

With hands clasped around the younger sister's breasts, Marianne yanked her upright and pressed her down into the bed. She peeled off her soaked panties, tasting the inside of them before throwing them aside. Lucille tried to raise her head and turn over. Marianne pushed her face-down in a way that brooked no argument.

Breathing heavily, she could feel grande sœur's mighty girlcock work its way around her entrance. She was so ready, dripping and pulsing in anticipation. She felt a soft hand between her shoulderblades, and her hole began to stretch as big sister penetrated her.

Lucille screamed into the mattress. It didn't hurt much, she was accustomed to the feeling, but her sister's dick was still huge and she felt almost overwhelmingly full, before it was even halfway inside. She planted her hands and pushed her hips back, lusty and desperate, rejoicing in ecstasy when she felt Marianne grip her waist and use it as leverage to grind all the way to her most pleasurable spot.

Again, the elder sister set a harsh rhythm, knowing the younger could take it. Before Lucille's little hole was properly stretched out, Marianne's hips were already slapping hers, sweat pouring off her back as the more experienced madame showed her who was in charge. The Monégasque felt her entire body go limp, subservient and eager to please. Marianne took this as an invitation to lower herself down, breasts rubbing moistly across her sister's back, and drive ever harder into the tight and clenching hole that refused to relinquish its grip on her hard shaft.

As Marianne reached an especially agonising and enthralling speed, her little sister ruined the bed beneath them with a gushing orgasm that wiped her mind clear of thoughts. All she could do was whimper and convulse, her big sister not even bothering to slow down.

"Naughty," tutted Marianne. "I didn't say you could cum, did I?"

She grunted and gave a few more deep thrusts for good measure, then wrapped her arms around her sister and pulled them both into a sitting position. There was an ornate mirror on the bedroom wall, and through teary eyes Lucille could see herself, sitting in her Marianne's lap and having her belly distended by every thrust.

"I… I c-c-can't take a-anymore, ma chère…", blabbered Lucille, her face, tits and cock running into a drippy mess.

"Well learn how, pronto," snapped Marianne, spanking one of her bitch's pert little cheeks for her impertinence. Lucille cried out and her soft cock twitched, hardening once more. Her sister at least slowed a little now, grinding slowly and deliberately in and out, massaging her quivering breasts and hard nipples.

"Zut alors, is that semen or are you lactating?"

Marianne ran her fingers through the indeterminate warm, white fluid covering her little sister's areolae, swallowed it and shrugged.

"Look at you, my pretty princess," she cooed in Lucille's ear. The embodiment of Monaco averted her gaze, shamed by her needy, whorish reflection.

"I told you to look."

Marianne took her softly but with inexorable firmness, long, manicured fingers on her sister's jaw turning her head until she was forced to watch herself being broken upon the enormous, oozing column that was once more intensifying its thrusts.

Lucille's cock jerked and jiggled, in sweet torment as she was ravished from the inside. Marianne held her arms as she mated her, preventing her from relieving the building ache of an incipient orgasm, and the precum spilling down her shaft added to the heady scents swaddling them.

"Frangine, please, please," whimpered Lucille, not daring to meet her sister's eyes, refusing to look away from her trembling figure in the mirror. "I'll be your good girl, I'll let you rest, I'll make you breakfast in bed, whatever you desire! Just-" she hiccuped and pushed her ass deeper than she would had believed possible onto the girlcock violating her. "Just please, for the love of all that's holy, let me cum!"

"Well," considered Marianne, "despite your ingratitude earlier, you're now being very well behaved. Bof, we're practically in a bordel anyway."

She fucked as hard and fast as she could, the wet slaps of her thighs hitting her little sister's ass resounding through the villa. Lucille let her beautiful voice ring out in tandem, no longer comprehensible in any language but that of pure lust. Marianne wrapped a hand around and gently toyed with the girl's slippery and throbbing dick, rubbing the head, caressing the shaft, until Lucille shot her sperm across the room in a mindblowing orgasm, clenching on her sœur's oozing rod. Marianne screamed in climax and fucked waves of hot, slimy cum into her little sister's belly.

Both of them came in shaking bursts of pleasure, over and over before finally collapsing in a blissful heap.

After a long time simply lying in silence but for their ragged breaths, arms and legs locked snugly around each other, Lucille stirred and tried to rise.

"Where'ya goin?", muttered Marianne, grasping her sleepily.

"Shower," replied Lucille.

The older woman pulled her back into bed.

"Don't bother. Too hot, you'll be sweaty again right after. Might as well stay here and be sweaty with me."

She dragged her firmly back down and Lucille had not the heart to refuse her. She nested her face between her big sister's perfect breasts and they stayed in a warm and wet embrace deep into the morning.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] 100 Days of Feelings (Day 84)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in EN 🍒

Previous day: here

[ GAVIN ] 

The plush toy that you just bought takes up quite a lot of space on the bed, so I’ve let it sleep on the windowsill. It’s more spacious there.

-

[ KIRO ]

The game competition we’ve been looking forward to is about to be live-streamed! Want to make a bet on which group would win? The stake is a kiss, of course!

-

[ LUCIEN ]

Along the way to work, the fragrance of the floral shop stumped me in my footsteps. When I returned to my senses, a bouquet for you was already in my hand.

-

[ SHAW ]

The cat food you bought to feed the stray cats in the neighbourhood is here. Wear a few more layers when feeding the cats at night. Don’t scare the cats off with a loud sneeze.

-

[ VICTOR ]

I made a few salmon flowers for Pudding today, but it made a huge mess. Looks like its dining etiquette could use some improvement.

Next Day: here

[laces-and-pearls]

My signature fragrance is lilac 💜 my wardrobe is not expensive at all but it consists from many pretty dresses 👗 I'm certainly not the smartest person around but I try to learn something new from time to time 📖 self-love...well, here's where I'll have to work 💕 my standards are high but not impossible 💎 and oh my stars I love finding new etiquette articles and read them 💌