#I have 4 velvet dressing gowns | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

verbenaa · 7 months

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opus 4 (nothing compares to the sighs that fall from your lips)

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?”

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.”

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𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Astarion/Reader

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut, 18+

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6.9k

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: exhibitionism, frottage/thigh riding, clothed sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vampire bites, blood, soft dom astarion, tailor astarion strikes again

𝑎/𝑛: if larian can't give us a masquerade, then i will! welcome to my current fixation which has been this masquerade ball fic. idk there is no rhyme or reason to this, its just fun and indulgent and glittery. i hope you enjoy and please like/comment/reblog etc ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

ao3 here

masterlist

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The chandeliers twinkle brightly from the cavernous ceiling above as you float across the polished ballroom floor, slippered feet moving swiftly as your dance partner twirls you around, an arm wrapped tight around your waist while the other grasps your hand as he leads you through the elegant steps of a waltz.

Wine burns through your veins as it sings a siren’s song, the sanguine liquid slipping down your throat with ease this evening, the vintage aged to perfection. Melted wax drips from the tapers decorating the room, their flames no more than whirls of shining light as you spin around and around, gown fluttering with every elegant movement.

It wasn’t often you attended these sorts of events, despite the amount of invitations you’ve received over the years. Being the most recent hero of Baldur’s Gate had its occasional perks it would seem, and this ball was certainly one of them.

It was the same routine every time. You would open the frequently ostentation envelopes, perfect calligraphy written with expensive pots of colored ink on the front and oversized wax seals in golds and reds and blues on the back. Inevitably, after a passing glance at whatever solicitation lay inside you would feed it to your hearth, letting the fire gobble it up as it burns to black.

This particular invitation, however, had caught your eye. The envelope itself was nothing of particular elegance, though the black of the envelope and silver lettering did stand out among the others in your post box that day. The matching silver wax seal on the back opened easily with a quick flick of your letter opener, and a singular word on the thick vellum piqued your interest in a way that few ever did on these inane things.

Masquerade.

You can easily recall the way the word made your heart jump, mind moving to the imagined scenarios of your younger years, the adventures of storybook heroines always featuring stories of flowing gowns and glittering masks.

Your own gown flows around your form as you dance the steps, soft fabric laying perfectly against your curves as braided straps of silk rest over your shoulders. The skirt flows down around a high slit up the thigh, velvet the color of the deepest ivy brushing against the marbled floors with every movement.

The metallic threads glow in the candlelight, embroidered designs of liquid silver cascade in small clusters down the bodice and onto the skirt like little groups of stars falling from the sky. The low back of the dress leaves you uncharacteristically bare, almost everything above the line of your waist exposed, though the air is warm against your skin with all the bodies present this evening.

Your dance partner cuts a dashing figure, a vision of velvet and quicksilver in his own right. He looked made for the part—like some dark hero from a storybook come to life in front of your eyes.

Gods, he looked so handsome.

Your cheeks flush as you watch him, following his lead as his hands tighten around you, that familiar knowing smirk decorating his elegant features even with the dark mask he wears obscuring the top half of his features, claret eyes framed with black and silver.

You pull yourself closer to Astarion, filling your senses with his familiar and comforting scent as he continues to lead you through the steps with sleek perfection, footsteps confident and head held high under his disguise.

The dance ends, orchestra moving on from the dreamy waltz you had just turned about to on the floor, a lilting concerto taking its place after a brief respite. Astarion leads you to the side of the dance floor, a hand poised on your waist as you walk to the fringes of the room.

You touch his velvet-covered shoulder, the intricately embroidered doublet matching the color of your own gown to perfection, down the same argent threads. The two of you were certainly coordinated this evening, if nothing else.

It had taken little to convince Astarion to agree to join you, his own love for overdramatic and lavish debauchery too much to deny something like a masquerade ball. He had certainly wasted no time designing outfits for the two of you, spending extra moments throughout his evenings constructing and embroidering them until every detail was as perfect as he had envisioned.

“Astarion!” You whisper into a delicately pointed ear, an emerald earring glinting in the candlelight as you rest your hand on his bicep, leaning your weight into him. “Go get us more wine!”

“You absolute lush.” His smile is fond as he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, careful not to disturb the delicate lace mask resting over your eyes, satiny ribbon tied behind your head in a pretty, perfect bow.

It was hard to deny his comment, especially when there was that delightful fuzziness that occupied your every sense, clouding everything in a wonderfully warm haze. You had easily lost track of the number of glasses you had imbibed over the evening, though you are fairly certain you simply misplaced some still half full goblets on the random trays of servers who wandered through the space.

Your thoughts swirl as he walks away from you in search of more spirits, his retreating figure a vision. He really was too handsome, dressed in his finery like this. Maybe you were wrong all these years to give your regrets to so many an occasion, if seeing Astarion dressed in the rich velvets and silks he deserved to wear was to be your prize.

A hand on your shoulder draws your attention, and you turn a moment later, reactions slowed by the alcohol still dancing in your veins. Behind you is a man, handsome enough—if only in a rather ordinary way—his warm brown eyes looking out at you from behind a mask of bright crimson as he gives you a friendly smile.

“I must ask how such a lovely gem such as yourself is simply wandering around alone on a night like this?” The words are meant to be suave and charming, though you ignore them, as uninterested in the man now standing before as you are in his words or the meaning behind them. Your eyes draw instead to a overflowing vase of flowers on a table behind him, a downright gaudy display of cultivated blooms bursting from an equally ostentatious vase.

“Do you happen to know what type of flowers those are behind you?” You point at them, not addressing the man’s prior words to you. He turns to look behind him with befuddlement, taking in the large arrangement with barely a blink of his eyes before he turns back, scanning up and down your velvet-clad figure.

“I’m afraid flowers aren’t my specialty.” His answer is short and no-nonsense, he was clearly a man uninspired and uncreative if that was the best he could come up with, the roll of your eyes mostly obscured by the lace covering your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, may I ask your name?” He sidles ever a bit closer, and you take a measured step back in response as you cross your arms casually in front of you, head tilting to the side as you observe him.

“How could you know? We are masked, after all.”

“It would be my honor, my dear mysterious Lady, to have your next dance?” His words are polite, even with such blunt forwardness.

You are saved from having to answer by an arm wrapping around your waist from behind, that wonderfully delicious scent of bergamot and brandy filling your senses with his presence.

The man across from you looks affronted at Astarion’s arrival, eyes falling to the arm wrapped tightly around your body and the angular face pressing against the crown of your head.

“Darling, won’t you introduce me to your new friend?”

“Oh! My love, you’ve returned!” Your smile is beatific as you turn towards him, eyes meeting his own you look for your promised goblet of wine.

“You never mentioned you were…partnered.” The man—what was his name again?—says before you two, a frown etched onto his features.

“Well, you never asked. This is my—” Astarion cuts you off before you can finish.

“Husband.” There’s a prideful possessiveness to his words that strike your interest, though you fight the urge to roll your eyes all the same. You and Astarion may be life partners, but married you were not.

“Here you are, my sweet.” He holds the full goblet towards you as it dangles between his elegant fingers, wine threatening to spill from its silvered edges. “Now, let us continue our fête elsewhere, hm?”

You give the man a bored look before turning away, downing your wine quickly before moving to place the empty silver on the table behind him, the overlarge bouquet towering over you. Without a second glance, Astarion takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back before stepping away with you into the crowd beyond.

He leads you to a secluded corner, the area obscured by the shadows of the lofty space. Astarion’s footsteps finally slow as you near the wall and he notices your raised brow, an expectant expression on your face.

“Married, Astarion? When exactly was our wedding day, just so I don’t forget the anniversary.” You speak wryly, an amused smile on your lips. “I’d hate to not get you a gift.”

“Well, we may as well be married. Don’t you agree?”

“I certainly don’t see a ring on my finger.” You make to look at your hand, a playful smile old your lips as you tease him. Astarion’s frown deepens, a look of childish petulance crosses his features, obvious even with the mask hiding his expressive eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous that another man was simply talking to me?”

“Darling, I think he would have done more than simply talk to you if you’d let him,” He rolls his eyes, exhaling a huff as his hands come to rest above the swell of your hips, bracketing your waist with those talented, nimble fingers.

“Besides, he wasn’t talking, he was flirting with you.” You could swear he was pouting, amusement building with every passing minute as you bite your lip to hide your growing smile.

“I hadn’t noticed, honestly.” Your shrug is a touch too put on, the casualness of the action at odds with the finery you wear as the smile you try to hide escapes, painting your features with a certain cunning that Astarion knows all too well.

“Oh, I think you knew exactly what you were doing, darling, letting that man flirt with you.” Astarion’s hands on your velvet covered waist tighten as he walks you backward, not stopping until your back meets the intricately wainscoted wall, the two of you partially obscured by the heavy drapery of a nearby balcony.

“You’re far too smart, my sweet, to be so unaware.” The rest of ball swirls on obliviously around you both, dizzying in its opulence as music from the orchestra begins its climb to a rousing crescendo.

A coy smirk is the only answer you give him, the incline of your head daring him to continue as the lace covering your eyes only adds to your mystique tonight. The wine running through your veins turns your body hot, your confidence brimming with the help of the alcohol.

“And so what if I did, Astarion?” His ornate mask does little to hide the spark flaring to life in his crimson irises, thumbs tracing circles dangerously high on your ribcage as he steps closer into your space, the flowing skirt of your gown brushing against his own finery as he pushes close.

“Then I suppose you leave me no choice but to give you a little lesson, dearest.”

One of the hands at your waist skates up, passing over your breast before brushing up the column of your neck, hand wrapping lightly around your throat as you lean your head up to look at him. His fingers brush over leftover scars from feedings past, and the sudden pressure on your throat has your body on high alert, heat licking at the bottom of your belly as you inhale a shaky breath.

Astarion’s mouth crashes down onto yours, stealing your breath as he kisses you with abandon. You answer his kiss with your own hunger, opening your lips to welcome his tongue. Your free hand comes up to brush against his chest, fingers tightening in the fabric to pull his body closer as your lips and tongue move against his own.

Your back is pressed hard against the wall behind you, the molded wood cool as Astarion crowds you, his chest pushed tight against your breasts. You widen your legs slightly and he quickly fills the space, a covered thigh coming to rest in between the slight spread of your own.

Astarion’s lips move to your jaw, your head tilting for him as the hand on your neck gives one last squeeze before brushing down your side until it finds your hip. The thigh between your legs presses in harder, and you thank the Gods that Astarion had the wherewithal to design a gown with such a high slit as you feel the fabric of his pants against your bare skin of your upper thigh.

The hand on your hip pushes you slightly forward and your covered center makes contact, the hard muscles of his leg rubbing deliciously against your core. You choke on a moan, and you can feel his smirk against your skin as his lips caress that spot behind your ear you love so much.

“Do you think you can do it? Ride my thigh with all these people milling about?” His words are spoken low into your ear as your eyes fall shut at the tone of his voice, the devious lust that permeates every word sending a shiver through your body.

You bite your lip as you tug him closer, burying your face into his neck. You move your hips, starting with a slow movement, barely enough to provide any relief. But you feel it, all the same, cheeks flaming as you focus on Astarion and his leg, the alcohol drowning out the noise of the rest of the ball around you.

What must you look like, you wonder, to anyone who happens to look on? You hope that the image of you together is only that of a pair of lovers embracing closely, too lost in their own world to care about anything else.

You can feel your wetness growing with every pass over his thigh as your hips undulate in soft motions, Astarion’s body pressed as close as possible to your own, shielding you with his form as much as he can from your place in the shadows.

The feeling is wonderful, enticing in such a public arena, but it is far from enough. Your arousal grows, the dampness seeping through your underwear and onto the dark velvet of his pants as his cock twitches against you, his length hard as it strains against the fabric.

You feel his hand come down from your waist to brush against the slit where it falls against your thigh, his fingers tracing up and down your skin in teasing passes.

Those fingers slide inside the skirt of your gown, grazing the outside of your thigh as they make their way towards your ass. Your skin is hot where his cool fingers touch, a blazing line of heat marking every movement they make as he caresses the flesh barely hidden by your underwear.

“How wet are you, darling?” His words are sinful as he whispers them in your ear, hand easing under the line of your panties to rub against your bottom, his fingers creeping ever closer to the place where your aching cunt connects with his leg.

“Astarion,” You whine in his ear, hand gripping the collar of his doublet. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you are begging for, but as Astarion’s fingers finally find your wetness you are unable to conceal the moan that falls from your lips. His fingers move, just enough to gather evidence of your arousal on his fingertips.

“Oh, you sweet thing. You like this, don’t you?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his hand trails away from the center of you, brushing back past your underwear and out of your gown. He brings the fingertips up to press against his lips, tongue sneaking out to lick at the slight sheen that coats them.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight, your breathing hard as your eyes trace his features.

Astarion’s hand covers your own where it grips at his collar as his other adjusts himself in his pants, hiding his erection as best he can from sight. He pulls away from you, helping you adjust your dress with quick fingers. Your eyes catch upon the sight of your arousal on his pants, catching the light as he turns. You cheeks burn at the sight, your swallow audible.

“Follow me, love.” You don’t question him on where he is heading as he makes a line for the closest set of ballroom doors, pace quick as he weaves the both of you through the sea of bodies that make up the cities’ finest members of society.

“Are we going home?” You whisper quietly as you follow, unsure if you were ready to commit the incandescent aura of the evening to memory alone quite yet.

It had taken hours to get ready, time spent bathing together before pampering each other—applying scented oils on skin and through hair, Astarion helping you pin your hair into its complicated updo this evening taking almost an hour alone, his fingers applying the rouge to your cheeks and lips with care as he admired your features with the utmost affection. No, you certainly weren’t ready to leave quite yet.

“It would be a shame to end the evening so early, don’t you think?” Relief and joy spills through you in equal measure at his words, eager to continue tonight’s festivities, whatever they may be.

You walk through the main hall, hand in hand with Astarion, the wine still buzzing in your head as he draws you up the large, elegant staircase of swirling marble. Your presence goes unnoticed as you pass others dressed in their own finery, shimmers of glitters and gems, silks and tulles flowing past as you climb step after step.

You make it up the rise of the large staircase, skirt twirling as you spin around momentarily to take in the scene of the party now beneath you. Its a world of luster that takes your breath away, everything filtered with the heady glow from the candelabras and wine flowing aplenty.

With a tug on your hand, Astarion leads you away from the center of the room, breaking off to go down a smaller corridor to the side before cutting aside on one or two more until you are isolated, the noise of the orchestra below now faraway and faint.

The hallway feels hushed and hidden away, safe from the prying eyes of society as the candlelight sconces adorning the walls flicker, dancing fragment of light illuminating the narrow corridor. Astarion walks you back with hands on your waist until you feel the half-paneled wall against your uncovered back, the wallpaper ornate with scrolling vines and berries, vibrant reds and greens contrasting against the darkness of your gown.

Astarion’s head bends to your chest, pressing a tender kiss onto the swell of your breast, over the place your heart beats in three-quarter time.

“Have I mentioned how absolutely divine you look, darling?”

“Well, you did make the gown.” Your hand tangles in his hair, pressing him closer to your breasts as you arch into him. He buries his face into your chest, kissing and licking at the skin bared to him above the low neckline.

“It’s quite easy when you have such a lovely muse.” His nose nuzzles at the flesh of your breast, breathing in your scent as he groans against you, pressing his hips against your own so you can feel the evidence of his prominent erection.

Astarion bites down into the flesh of your breast that rises above your gown without warning, fangs piercing the tender skin that heaves with your breath as he drinks in the sweetness of your blood. It flows thick in brightly colored streams, a surprised moan ripping from your lips at the sudden action.

He sucks from the swell above your gown, blood dripping to stain the bodice as he licks and tastes the rich claret of you made all the sweeter from the wine, his hand drawing down your belly before dipping lower.

He finds that slit on your thigh, hand working its way underneath before moving to cup around your wetness as you cover your mouth with your hand, hiding your moans behind a palm as your eyes flutter shut.

Astarion moans at the dampness he finds there, fingers quick to push aside the gusset of your underwear to run his fingers through your slick folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, spreading your wetness up and down the expanse of your center. You can feel his erection pressing against you, still hidden by his pants as he relishes your body’s reaction to his actions, lips still licking and sucking at the skin of your breast.

The fingers at your core move to rub your clit, the light pressure a relief as you bite your bottom lip to keep quiet, eyes glancing to the side quickly before closing once more to indulge in the feeling, his mouth not letting up as he savors your lifeblood.

“Astarion, what if someone sees us?” Nerves make their way into your soft voice, barely a whisper as your body tenses slightly with unease at the prospect of being seen by another. Astarion’s head lifts away from your breast, fangs leaving twin pinpricks on your chest, blood pulsing from the wounds in time with your heart as his eyes draw up to your own.

“No one will recognize us, my dear.” A finger circles your entrance, and your knees threaten to buckle under the pleasure. “Though we can stop if you want to.”

You hesitate and Astarion’s fingers pause to give you time to think, his mouth still drinking from the blood leaking from your breast, tongue licking at any stray drops.

“No,” You shake your head, needing little time to ruminate on the decision. “Please, don’t stop.” You let the desperation you feel run into your hushed voice as you give him your consent to continue, your hands in his hair brushing through the strands as you buck your hips into his hand.

“Thank the Gods.” His finger pushes in, working its way into you with sinfully slow movements, your head hitting the wall behind you as you let out a hiss at the feeling. You can hear your wetness as his finger dives deep, the sound of it obscene in the otherwise silent hallway.

“Gods, you’re so wet,” He kisses against your collar bone, nuzzling into the skin there as he breathes in your scent. “Who knew you were such an exhibitionist? Absolutely filthy of you, sweetheart.”

You whine at his words, Astarion coaxing more quiet moans from your lips as his finger pumps deep inside you. His free hand trails up to your shoulder, pushing off the delicate strap of your gown before moving down to pull at your bodice.

Taking care not to rip the velvet, Astarion succeeds in freeing the breast he had fed on, hand coming up to weigh it in a palm as his mouth licks at the exposed nipple.

He sucks on the hardened peak as his finger pulls out of you only to be joined by a second a moment later, the stretch barely noticeable with your wetness aiding his smooth thrusts in and out of your cunt.

His fingers curl against your walls as his tongue licks at your nipple, laving the peak as he finds that special place, deep inside your body and presses into it.

He’s relentless as his mouth works your breast and his beautiful fingers fuck you, his other hand squeezing the breast still covered, fingers working underneath the fabric to brush at the nipple.

It would be so easy to come like this, a fact Astarion does not miss as he can feel your body’s reaction, the telltale tension building inside you. Slowly his fingers leave your heat, brushing up against your clit with slippery motions as you whimper at the loss of them. He presses one last kiss to the tip of your breast, still wet with his lingering saliva, before he lowers to his knees in front of you.

“Astarion, what are you doing?” Your words are breathless as your hands run through his hair, the mask on his face slightly askew.

“I still seem to be a bit peckish still, though for a slightly different taste.” Warmth rushes to your cheeks as they flush, the alcohol still floating through your body painting everything in that same warm haze that has surrounded you through the night.

Astarion’s hands glide up your legs, brushing over soft thighs as he grabs at either side of the underwear where it rests low across your hips. His eyes flick up to yours as he pulls it down, guiding the thin, lacy fabric down your legs. He’s unhurried, clearly not worried about being caught or seen as he takes his time while his eyes never leave yours. He steadies you as you step out of the panties, pocketing the damp lace with a roguish smirk and raise of his brows.

His hand wraps around your thigh, pushing it up and pinning it against the wallpaper as he holds you open to his gaze. Your pussy is absolutely dripping for him, the sight of his otherworldly beauty as he stares at the center of you, open for him, takes the breath from your lungs.

There would be no mistaking what was happening if someone were to come upon you now—Astarion kneeling before you, supplicant, as he bares you to himself—unmistakable to anyone gifted with eyesight.

Astarion leans in to press a kiss to the thigh he has pinned, lips moving across the smooth skin with the lightest of touches before skipping over your weeping core to kiss the opposite thigh. You whine at the blatant misdirection of his mouth, hips bucking in indignation with as much motion as you can manage.

“Oh, I’m sorry—did you want something, darling?” He moves his face away from your body to shoot a look upwards, his features smug as he sees the abject desire in your gaze tempering the glare you shoot down at him.

“I thought you were still hungry, dearest.” You keep your words sweet, not letting the aching want you feel bleed into your voice as your eyes narrow.

“Patience, sweet thing. I’m sure I’ve taught you about it once or twice before, have I not?” His head dips forward once more, breathing in the scent of your essence with a performative sigh. “Now, ask nicely. And do use your words and tell me what you want.”

“Astarion!” You start, exasperation building as you contemplate the words to say to appease him. He could be so demanding at times like this, a trait you found yourself caught between loving and hating in equal measure, though ‘loving’ did usually win out in the end.

You briefly debate making him wait for your words, watching his own impatience grow as you play coy, but this certainly isn’t the time or place for what could be a long, drawn out battle of wills on who would break first.

“Fine. Pretty please, Astarion, will you do me the honor of licking my cunt until I come? Preferably before we get caught?” Your frustration mounts as you say the words though you find the strength to keep your tone as breezy and unaffected as his own, despite the slight embarrassment beginning to creep in as the elusive power of the wine fades ever so slowly with every minute that passes.

Astarion grants you your wish with a wide, feline smile, licking a stripe up the center of you, his tongue running through your folds before brushing lightly against your clit as he savors the taste of you.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

His tongue laps at your folds, taking his time to move up and down in languid strokes, never focusing on any one place. It’s a maddening feeling, a whine slipping from your throat as your hips roll, asking for more.

His tongue dips into your entrance, whorling around the opening as he tastes you, his moan against your cunt matching the one that leaves your mouth. Your hands tighten in his hair, hips writhing as his tongue thrusts inside you.

Astarion is eager to taste your essence, tongue flicking deep in your waiting wetness as hushed cries fall from your lips with every brush against your walls. You could sob from the feeling of the lightning hot pleasure that works through your body in time with every push of his tongue. He eats you out like a man starved, his mouth moving against your entrance as he works to plunge you closer towards ecstasy.

His motions are fast-paced, quicker than normal as he works to bring you to your peak, and you whine once more when he tongue leaves to lave at your folds instead. Two fingers are quick to replace his tongue inside you as he circles your clit instead, flicking the pearl simultaneously with perfectly timed thrusts of his fingers, curling up into that special spot.

“You really are so good when you set your mind to it, love.”

Your pleasure ratchets higher, a tremor running through your body as the leg supporting you grows weak with your impending orgasm, muscles in your thigh shaking slightly.

“Astarion, please don’t stop,” Your begging only serves to spur him on, tongue moving faster and his fingers curling faster with a repetitive motion that has your body tightening around him.

“That’s it, darling, come for me.” Astarion’s words are reverent, and you embrace them as you hurtle over the edge, euphoria rushing through your body, the feeling enhanced by the leftover wine as your fingers grip tight in his hair.

You come on his fingers and tongue, Astarion working you through the waves of your completion as they flow through your body, your cunt spasming tight as his tongue doesn’t stop licking at your clit. You bite the flesh of your lip, the delicate skin splitting under your teeth as you keep the sounds of your orgasm at bay, tiny dots of red spilling over your lips.

You uncurl your fingers from his hair, smoothing out the curls as your breathing evens out and your orgasm leaves you in a sense of pleasant euphoria. Astarion presses soft kisses against the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers finally slow inside of you before pulling out. He places one last kiss to your entrance, licking up the remnants of your come before he leans back and places your leg back down onto the ground.

He rises from the floor with a graceful motion, hands skating up your curves as his mouth crashes against your own. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he kisses you, the flavor of your own blood and come dizzying.

Astarion licks at the blood on your lip, sucking on the mark as it bleeds. You open your mouth to him, his tongue tangling with your own as he deepens the kiss. Your hands work in a frenzy with his own to loosen his pants, the button finally coming free in your rush to free his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Astarion pulls his hardness from his underwear and you pump him, the velvety feel of his shaft warmer than normal as your blood courses through his veins. He moans into your mouth, hips pressing closer to you as you work his cock up and down, his precome shining in the light of the sconces as you spread the fluid on the heat of him.

His hands move down from your hips, brushing over your bottom as he grasps under the curve of your rear, squeezing.

“Up.” You are quick to obey, eager to feel him inside you as you jump up, Astarion catching you as his hips pin you in place against the wall, his hands supporting your weight in a tight hold against your ass.

The half paneling of the wall presses into your back as you push your dress out of the way, the skirt easily parting around the slit as you guide his cock to your waiting cunt, still wet with your come. Astarion stares at your mouth as you lick at the precome that coats your fingers, pupils blown wide as you take a finger into your mouth and suck.

“Like the taste, darling?” Astarion’s erection finds your entrance, your wetness coating the crown of his cock as he bucks in shallowly, the head barely pressing inside you.

“Always. I think I’d like to have a little more.” Your arms wrap around his neck as you roll your hips against his cock, taking him slightly deeper inside your waiting warmth as you lick at his lips.

Astarion lets out a low growl as he pushes inside you in a single thrust, gliding home as hips meet your own. You both moan at the feeling of him inside you, the satisfaction of Astarion finally filling you euphoric as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Did you design this dress thinking about how you would fuck me in it?” Astarion sets a steady pace as he moves his hips, your own meeting his thrusts as best as you can with such a limited range of motion.

“Of course I did,” He licks at the blood drying on your lip. “I thought about how beautiful you would look coming on my cock wearing it, too.”

He pumps his cock harder, hips rutting against your own as your arms around his neck tighten, bringing him ever closer to you. Your lips meet once more, pressing against one another’s to silence the noises of pleasure breaking from your throats with every thrust.

“No one can make you come like I can, can they?.” His words come on an quiet exhale of exertion, tinged with the smallest bit os what sounds like possession, his lips brushing against your own with each syllable that leaves his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous, Astarion?” You can still feel the leftover fog from your orgasm, hands playing the hair at the nape of his neck, the strands soft against your fingers as you try catch your breath in vain, every thrust of his cock making it harder and harder to breathe.

“I want to hear you to say it.” The hands on your ass squeeze, cock hammering harder into your center. “Say: ‘No one can fuck me like you’.”

There’s a familiarity to the veiled desperation in voice, though its been years since you’ve heard it. You would know the sound of it anywhere, the cadence of his longing to be wanted and loved and cared for burned into your mind for eternity, settling there like a haze over your vision.

Your heart grows tender at his words, and you hold onto him tighter, pressing a kiss to his lips before giving him the words you know he needs to hear from your rouged lips.

“No one can make me come like you,” A kiss to the tip of his nose where his face rests close to your own.

“No one can fuck me like you,” A kiss to one cheek, then the other.

“There is no one for me but you, Astarion. Only you.” Finally, his lips—your love and passion pouring out onto him with the simple press of your lips against his, a hand coming to brush his cheek.

“Gods, I love you.” His thrusts grow sloppy as he grips your hips harder, mouth falling open against your own as his pleasure builds.

“I love you too.” You lips part with the tilt of your head backwards as Astarion hits a particularly deep place inside you, fingers curling hard into the fabric covering his shoulders. He thrusts faster, making sure to hit against the same spot on every push forward.

Astarion’s hand sneaks from behind you to press against your clit, rubbing quick circles as his thrusts grow frenzied, losing their rhythm as he chases his impending high, intent to bring you with him over the edge.

“Will you come inside me? I want to feel you.” You press a kiss onto the shell of his ears as you whisper the words, your tongue darting out to tease at the sensitive skin of the elegant point.

“Is that what you want, darling? My come?” His hips stutter at your words spoken so intimately as you clutch at him, the warmth of your cunt drawing him closer and closer to his peak.

“Gods, yes. Please!” You aren’t afraid to beg as his fingers strum fast on your clit as his thrusts hit deep, your vision clouding over as another orgasm nears.

“Then take it, love.” Astarion buries his face into your neck as he comes, hot spurts of his spend spilling deep inside your body as you ride him through his completion. The feeling of him coming is exhilarating, and his fingers don’t stop until you crest over with him, the contractions of your cunt drawing him in tight as you take all you can of him as he hides his moans into your skin.

You roll your hips on his still hard cock as you work yourself through your orgasm, Astarion still pumping his own shallowly inside you as he comes down, breath hot against your neck.

Slowly, the world settles back down, both you coming back to yourselves from where you stand against the wall, breathing slowing.

Astarion’s cock is soft as he pulls from you, his come sliding out with it to make a mess onto your thighs. Astarion watches as his come collects at your entrance, the fingers on your clit moving downwards to push it back inside you with a gentle motion.

“Waste not, want not, my love.” Astarion’s finger curls one last time to press against your walls as you squirm, your body overly sensitive in the aftermath of your orgasm.

He presses a kiss to your forehead before removing his finger, moving his hands to help you stand back on the floor with steady feet.

He pulls your panties out of his pocket, bending down onto a knee as he helps you back into them, gently lifting one ankle after the other as you still catch your breath, before he raises the ruined lace back up your legs.

He adjusts the skirt of your gown, making sure the velvet falls perfectly before he presses a soft kiss to your covered stomach. He rises, fingers tracing your form as he does, dragging the long forgotten silk shoulder strap back where it belongs as you work your breast back into the bodice.

“Astarion.” You touch at his cheek, capturing his attention as he looks back at you. His gaze is clear as his eyes meet your own, the beautiful crimson red of them soft as he searches your face.

“You really are the only one, Astarion. You are the only one I will ever love, until my dying breath. There will never be anyone else.” You watch as your words settle over him like a balm, the love you feel radiating into him as he accepts them into his own heart.

His features soften even as he scoffs at your words, his hand coming up to cover your own on his face despite himself.

“Oh, I know. Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it.” You let him lie, willing to let him keep this facade in tact.

“I’ll say it as many times as you wish.” Astarion’s hand takes your own where it rests on his face, pressing a kiss into the palm before lowering your joined hands.

“I’ll be sure to let you know, darling.” Astarion adjusts his own finery, settling the velvet back to rights as his eyes draw to the bodice of your ruined gown.

“Did you account for potential bloodshed when you designed the dress too?” You remark as you eyes follow his own line of sight, looking down at the blood staining the velvet dark with wet, sticky blotches.

“Let’s just be thankful that blood and wine look similar.”

“Nothing we can do about that bite mark though.” You sigh as you attempt to pull up the neckline slightly higher to no avail.

“Everyone will simply have to be left to wonder, then, won’t they?” Astarion bends down to press a fluttering kiss over the marks decorating your chest, squeezing your hand.

“Think you have another dance in you?” You squeeze at his hand back in response.

“I suppose we still have a few more hours before sunrise to wile away.” Astarion walks, gently pulling you after him as the pair of you make your way back to the glittering ballroom below. “Let’s go have some more fun.”

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x f!reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #my writing #love u all thanks for reading kisses

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fantasyescapes17 · 1 year

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Wings (Part 1)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU (It's sort of Bridgerton-esque in the sense that I give zero attention to historical accuracy and prioritize aesthetics lmao) You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: Reader frequently displays signs resembling (undiagnosed) social anxiety.

Word Count: 5k+

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

Your mother's grip on your arm was painfully tight.

Today was, after all, one of the most important days of her life. Mrs. Yoon had presented one of her daughters at court a few years earlier (your elder sister) but the stakes were much, much, higher with you.

"I never had much hope for your sister," your mother said dismissively as she fussed with the exquisite fabric of your dress. The heavily embroidered gown had been custom-ordered for today; the day of your presentation. Being presented in court before the queen was a vital ceremony that every marriage-minded young lady undertook to enter society as a debutante.

"Mother…" you said patiently, but she ignored you, too caught up in her own nerves to notice your discomfort.

"I knew that your sister would cause trouble and look what she did- courting a widower-oh! I cannot bear to think of it. Thank goodness she is not here to ruin your debut. My darling, you have no need to worry. You are far more beautiful than your sister, and your manners are sweet and reasonable. You will make us very proud."

You may have been sweet and reasonable, as your mother liked to put it, but you were not ignorant. The weight your mother had placed on your shoulders to make a splash during your debut social season and snatch up an eligible gentleman was not easy to carry.

Neither was the dress you wore that weighed about two tons.

"We are next," your mother released your dress and turned her attention to your hair. "Remember what I taught you. Walk slowly and confidently. Keep your face lowered but not so low that they can't see your pretty features, and-"

Your mother did not have time to finish. The man at the entrance to the royal throne room announced your name loudly.

"Miss Yoon, presented by her mother, Mrs. Yoon!"

Your chest tightened. Taking a deep breath, you walked forward slowly and gracefully in the same way that you had practised hundreds of times at home. The large hall was filled with quietly chattering members of the ton. The most elite society of London had their eyes on you.

You did not look around the grand hall in fear of setting off your fragile nerves. Instead, you chose a spot on the velvet carpet at the foot of the Queen's throne and fixed your gaze firmly on it as you walked forward. You finally reached the throne and bowed deeply.

"Hmm," the Queen said as she observed you. You did not dare lift your eyes to look at her. "A pretty little thing. She will do well."

Relief.

You could almost feel your mother's delight radiating from a few steps behind you as you bowed once more to the queen and turned to leave. The walk back felt much easier. Although the dress was just as heavy as it had always been, some of the imaginary load had been shed and your shoulders felt lighter.

The presentation had gone well.

Or at least, it had not gone badly.

Your mother embraced you once you were outside and you allowed yourself to slump against her in a mixture of exhaustion and relief. You had been dreading, dreaming and preparing for this day for weeks, and it was finally over.

"Sister!" Jeonghan hurried out to greet you. You beamed at the sight of your half-brother.

"Was I all right?" you asked hopefully.

"You were excellent," Jeonghan promised you with a smile. He was accompanied by his newly wedded wife; a cheerful young lady who had been very kind and welcoming to you since your arrival in London.

"You were the most beautiful young lady in the room," your sister-in-law told you excitedly. "The Queen only spoke to two of the other girls- so you were certainly one of her favourites. Her Highness never said anything to me during my debut," she added with a laugh.

You found that difficult to believe. Jeonghan's wife was incredibly beautiful and charming.

"Thank you so much-"

"All right, it is time we took our leave," your mother interrupted stiffly.

It was no secret that your mother did not like her step-son, and she disliked his new wife equally. Your sister-in-law had unwittingly usurped your mother’s position as the lady of the Yoon household. The two women clashed on multiple subjects and could not seem to agree on anything- from the colour of the upholstery to the treatment of household staff.

You preferred not to be caught in the middle of that particular storm.

Jeonghan nodded. "Then we will see you at dinner. Congratulations, sister. The most difficult part is over. You will have a wonderful season ahead of you."

If only your brother had known how terribly mistaken he was.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Dear sister,

I have heard from Jeonghan that your presentation at court was spectacular. I expected no less from you. You are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful young ladies this season. I am sorry I could not be there, but mother insists that I stay away from London for fear that my status as a spinster will raise questions and cast a shadow over your prospects.

Do not worry for me! It is peaceful here back home. Mother’s absence makes it easier for me to write to Seungcheol; and if circumstances allow, he may come visit me soon (of course Mother must never hear of this). Seungcheol sends his best regards for your first season and asks me to warn you to be wary of rakes- but I am sure Jeonghan will keep you safe from them. Once you take your pick of London’s finest, we may have a joint wedding!

I am sure that offers for your hand will begin rolling in soon. Mother and Jeonghan shall be quite overwhelmed. Do not forget to write to me often!

Your loving sister.

You folded the letter and tucked it safely away in your drawer. You knew that your elder sister wanted nothing but the best for you. It had been years since she had fallen in love with Choi Seungcheol- a widower and father to a young boy. But their match was unseemly and your sister had kept the courtship hidden for many years out of fear that it would tarnish your future prospects. Even now, the couple waited patiently to be married until you had secured your own matrimonial bliss.

You were not ignorant of their sacrifice.

Both your sister and Seungcheol were very dear to you, and although neither of them would ever say it aloud, you were the reason they could not live together as husband and wife. You considered it your responsibility to make the most of your time in London. You would secure a husband before the season ended.

Surely it could not be so difficult?

Your mother had insisted on putting you in the most restrictive of dresses (‘to better show your figure, my dear!’) so you felt breathless and anxious throughout the carriage ride to the Graham manor. You were on your way to the first social event of the season- the Duchess of Graham’s spectacular opening ball, where you would experience London society at its grandest for the first time.

“Sister, are you all right?” Jeonghan asked you worriedly, as he helped you down from the carriage.

You swallowed and nodded. “Y-yes, of course.”

“You look rather unwell.”

You felt unwell. The enormous Graham manor loomed before you in all its grandeur, and multiple carriages were parked on the road with various well-dressed ladies and gentlemen descending. Many paused to glance at you curiously on their way to the manor, and you felt exposed and anxious.

It was dawning upon you how enormous this all was. Most of the people at the ball would have heard of your presentation in court. They would be watching you, judging you, talking about you. Even the smallest mistake could mean the end of your season.

You suddenly could not breathe.

"Come, sister," Mrs. Yoon (your sister-in-law) said. She had noticed your anxiety and took your arm in hers in a friendly manner. "Your presentation at court has caused quite the stir. There are many gentlemen eager to share a dance with you this evening, so you shall not be left wanting for dance partners.”

“It’s only… this is my first ball…” you choked out nervously.

“Not to worry! I was terribly nervous during my debut season as well, but you will begin to enjoy it soon!”

You had no option but to take her word for it. There was a sea of fashionably dressed people gathered in the foyer of the manor. More than you had ever seen at once in your life, having spent most of your youth at your family’s remote countryside estate. Numerous eyes were on you. You could already feel your skin heating up underneath your heavy gown, and sweat beading on your forehead.

“Well! If it isn’t Mr. and Mrs. Yoon Jeonghan!”

Your brother and sister-in-law were interrupted by greetings from a pair of gentlemen. You did not recognize either of them- so you had no choice but to stop and force a smile as your brother and sister-in-law greeted them warmly.

“I am surprised to see the Lees have arrived in London early this season,” Jeonghan said to them with a smile.

“We could scarcely continue to hide in the shadows after our sister married a Viscount. Her marriage has given the rest of us renewed hope for our own prospects,” the taller of the two laughed jovially. He was very handsome- with a bright smile and kind eyes. Your stomach clenched in anxiety once more as he turned and his eyes fell on you. “Oh! Is this the much-anticipated debutante Miss Yoon?”

You forced a curtsey.

Jeonghan nodded. “Yes- this is my youngest sister Miss Yoon. She was presented in court only last week. Sister, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Lee Jihoon and Mr. Lee Seokmin. They are the brothers of Viscountess Hong, whom you may have met earlier this week.”

You had a vague recollection of meeting the Viscountess at a ladies’ tea a few days ago. But the memory was pushed to the back of your mind when you discovered a large hand extended towards you. It belonged to Mr. Lee Seokmin- the owner of the bright smile and kind eyes.

“We have heard so much about you, Miss Yoon. May I ask you to join me for the first dance of the evening?” Seokmin asked.

It was as though you had forgotten how to speak. Mr. Lee Seokmin waited patiently for you to respond but despite your thoughts whirling at a hundred miles an hour, you simply could not force your lips to make any noise. There was a brief silence before your sister-in-law spoke on your behalf.

“I am sure Miss Yoon would love to join you for a dance, Mr. Lee,” she promised. “You must simply allow us to visit the refreshment tables first. A glass of water is much needed in this warm weather.”

Seokmin nodded in understanding. “Of course! You must wait here and we will find someone to bring you some water immediately.”

You felt your tense shoulders relax slightly when the gentlemen disappeared into the crowd of people, and you were left alone with your sister-in-law. She turned to you with concern.

“My dear, are you all right?”

“I am fine,” you reassured her breathlessly. “I-I do not know what happened, my mind simply seemed to freeze and I could not think of what to say to him. He was so handsome and gentlemanly and I-I…”

Mrs. Yoon grasped your hand and smiled.

"You seem so nervous! You must not worry. Mr. Lee Seokmin is a very nice young gentleman- I have danced with him before myself -and I think it is an excellent idea for you to start your ball by dancing with him."

Her words felt distant. They did nothing to ease your anxiety. There were still too many eyes on you and your chest still felt tight. Your mind would not stop considering all the different scenarios in which this monumentally important evening could go terribly, terribly wrong.

You were grateful for the silk gloves that concealed how sweaty your palms had become.

Seokmin returned a few moments later with a glass of water for you. You accepted it with a trembling smile, and forced yourself to drink a little as your sister-in-law engaged Seokmin in polite conversation about his family.

"Ah- I believe the dancing is beginning!" Seokmin announced suddenly. The musicians had taken their places, and he held out his hand to you. "Shall we?"

You took his hand and glanced at your sister-in-law, who gave you an encouraging smile. Your feet felt numb as you followed your dance partner to the centre of the room. The ballroom was enormous. You could see other young ladies far more graceful, confident, and beautiful than you standing up to dance as well. Miss Hong, Miss Ella Williams, and even the Duchess herself stood with their dance partners.

How could you compete? How could you stand up in a dance beside these accomplished women? Yes, your mother had paid for a tutor to teach you how to dance but she had said nothing, nothing about how positively nerve-wracking it would be to stand up in a room full of people with their eyes on you while other ladies smiled and glided effortlessly along!

"Are you all right, Miss Yoon?" Seokmin asked you kindly as you took your place among the dancers. "You seem rather flustered."

Your throat still felt tight. "I-I am fine…"

He nodded and smiled. The music began, and Seokmin slowly led you into the dance and initiated a light conversation.

"You bear a striking resemblance to your elder sister. I knew her rather well. I and some of the other gentleman here who were privy to her… courtship with Mr. Choi often danced with her to ward off other suitors."

Mr. Lee Seokmin was not at fault. He had only done what any gentleman meeting with a new lady would do. He had found a topic of shared interest and attempted to initiate a conversation.

He could not have known that he had said the worst possible thing to ease your nerves.

You thought of your sister- your poor, darling sister who was depending on you to have a successful season and snatch up an eligible husband as soon as possible; your sister who had suffered through so many balls dancing with men she did not love solely for your benefit. She would be sitting at home and waiting to hear news of how you had charmed all of London's young men.

The thought of disappointing her made you sick.

"Miss Yoon?" Seokmin asked when you did not respond. He laughed uncomfortably. "I apologise, I did not mean to offend- perhaps this was an inappropriate setting to mention your sister or Mr. Choi…"

Your eyes widened.

"No!" you cried. "No, I…"

*Yes?"

"I love my sister very much!" you blurted out loudly.

Seokmin blinked, surprised at your sudden declaration. "Ah; yes, I imagine so. She spoke of you often. I understand you are very close?"

You nodded. It was your turn to speak but you could not think of anything to say to him. Your mind raced in a panic as you tried to think of something to reply with while keeping pace with the dance. You stumbled; Seokmin was surprised but managed to keep his grip on your gloved hand and ensured you did not fall.

You were mortified.

"I-I am so terribly sorry," you stammered.

Seokmin chuckled. "That is perfectly all right, Miss Yoon, it happens to the best of us. Are you all right? Did you wish to sit down?"

Your ankle suddenly throbbed painfully. The stumble had thrust it into the wrong position and the sheer pain brought tears to your eyes. You blinked them back as you shook your head.

"No, no," you said hurriedly. To sit down in the middle of your very first dance would surely attract far too much attention. You could not afford that kind of infamy. A young lady's first ball set the tone for the rest of the season, your sister-in-law had said so many times before, and you could not allow it to end like this.

Seokmin frowned. "Miss Yoon, you really do not seem-"

"I am fine," you insisted breathlessly. You desperately tried to focus on anything but the pain in your ankle. Swallowing back your tears you looked up at Seokmin. "D-do you have any siblings of your own, Mr. Lee?"

He tilted his head in mild confusion. "Well- yes. You met my brother Jihoon earlier, and the Viscountess Hong is my sister. I also have three younger siblings who are not out in society."

Oh no. You realised your stupidity too late. Of course Seokmin had siblings, Jeonghan had told you about them mere minutes earlier! How could you ask the Viscountess' brother if he had siblings? What a fool you must have looked to ask a question that you should have known the answer to!

"I-I apologise, I should have known-"

"Not at all. It is your first season, Miss Yoon, it is perfectly understandable that you may have been confused."

You flushed in embarrassment. You were ruined. Seokmin would tell all the other gentlemen of the ton that the younger Miss Yoon was a bumbling idiot; that she had no idea how to dance, or hold a conversation, and that she was rude enough to ask him about his siblings when she should have known them by name….

You could not look at Seokmin. The awkwardness and concern on his face was only adding to your growing dread. The pain in your ankle was becoming more and more difficult to conceal, and you could not keep your thoughts in order. Tears were springing to your eyes again.

The dance finally came to an end. The silence that followed the last few notes of the music brought with it an immense relief, and you did not even wait to thank Mr. Lee Seokmin for the dance before you hobbled away from him. You needed to get away from the noise and the crowd and the staring eyes and judgemental faces, you needed a moment to simply breathe.

The Duchess of Graham's manor was enormous and it was not very difficult to slip out of the ballroom relatively unnoticed. Your ankle was in incredible pain and you could not go far. You found the first door and burst out onto a deserted balcony.

The cool night breeze allowed you to take a refreshing gasp of air. The combination of the pain in your ankle and your crippling anxiety led you to simply close your eyes and lean against the barristers. You had not been able to manage one dance without panicking! How would you make it through the rest of this evening?

Perhaps you could hide here until the dancing ended?

It was the only option you had left. You could not-would not- go back into that crowded ballroom full of watching eyes and fashionable young men and women that were so confident and graceful and intimidating. The mere thought filled you with a deep and intense dread. Your ankle throbbed, and you slumped down with your back against the barristers and cradled it as you fought back more tears.

You did not know how long you sat there on the balcony. The distant music from the ballroom must have stopped and restarted a few times before you suddenly heard the door to the balcony open once more.

You froze. A tall, startlingly handsome gentleman entered the balcony with a cigar held loosely between his lips. He did not notice you immediately; he was too busy trying to light the cigar despite the gentle breeze blowing. He grumbled to himself a few times before finally managing to light it. The man took a long, satisfying drag and the balcony was filled with the smell of tobacco smoke.

There was a sudden, sharp gust of wind that blew the smoke in your direction along with a wave of pollen from the lush, blooming garden below.

You sneezed.

The man jumped in surprise and turned to you with wide eyes. "For heaven's sake- what are you doing down there?" he demanded.

You were mortified. You could not speak. He squinted at you in the dim light streaming through the manors windows.

"Are you injured?" he asked, noticing how you were clutching your ankle. He frowned and peered at you more closely. "You look very familiar… surely, you're not…ah! Are you the younger Miss Yoon? I know your sister!"

It was too much. The mention of your sister tipped you over the edge that you had been teetering on all evening.

You burst into tears.

The young gentleman looked horrified. He stood there for a moment with his mouth gaping open before he pulled out a handkerchief and tried to give it to you. You were too mortified to take it. You simply buried your head in your hands and sobbed your eyes out.

You heard the gentleman leave- there was the sound of the balcony door closing, and then it opened again after less than a minute and multiple footsteps were audible.

"Oh! Here she is- my dear, we have been looking for you everywhere!" your sister-in-law's arms came to wrap around you and you allowed yourself to relax in her warm embrace. Your brother was not far behind her.

"What did you do, Mingyu?" Jeonghan demanded with a frown.

Mr. Kim Mingyu- the gentleman who was rapidly putting out his cigar against the balcony railing, paused and looked both bewildered and affronted.

"What did I do?" he cried. "I will not pretend as though I have never made a young lady cry, but really, Jeonghan, I barely said a word to her before she burst into tears!"

"Nobody saw you?" Jeonghan insisted.

"Of course not. Everyone was far too busy chatting about Miss Hong and that unfortunate business up in the library-"

"All right, all right. Thank you for calling us."

Your brother came over to help you up. Jeonghan sighed when he noticed your ankle. "Can you walk?"

You shook your head miserably.

"All right. Here- lean on my shoulder. Your mother is going to be furious…"

—----------------------------------------------------

Your mother was furious.

"I should never have trusted you to chaperone her!" she yelled at your sister-in-law. "How can you tell me that she danced only once- and to have allowed her to injure herself! How will she dance at the upcoming balls?"

Your sister-in-law sighed.

"Madam, I will confess that perhaps I could have kept a closer eye on her, but really, the injury was an accident. I am not sure how you expect me to have prevented it from happening," she retorted irritably.

Your mother was incensed. "I shall certainly expect nothing more from you! I shall escort my daughter to all the balls for the rest of the season myself!"

Your eyes widened.

"Mother, no…"

"Hush," your mother snapped. "I don't want to hear another word from you. Injuring your ankle at the very beginning of the season! As though you had never been taught to dance! I want nothing from you, except to heal that ankle as soon as possible!"

You bit your lip. "Yes, mother…"

"I am off to Mrs. Patty's to see what the rest of the ton thinks. We must count our blessings that the Viscount's sister made an absolute spectacle of herself the same night, so word of your poor debut was not the most gossip-worthy event of the evening."

You bit your lip. It seemed unkind to take relief in another young lady's misfortunes but those were the cards you had been dealt. Your mother stormed out of the parlour and your sister-in-law came closer to you.

"Are you all right?" she asked gently. "How is your ankle?"

It was swollen. The doctor had been by and had advised you to rest for a few days and that you should be in a position to walk normally in a week's time.

"Better," you lied.

"You look quite miserable, my dear."

"I-I dread to think of how I shall manage the next ball. Mr. Lee was so gentle and kind, but I still panicked and could not bring myself to converse normally with him. I am sure he will tell the entire ton that I am a bumbling fool!"

"I am sure he will not," Mrs. Yoon said firmly. "He is not so unkind."

"And if the next man is not as kind as him? What if I make a bigger fool of myself in front of someone far more important? How shall I ever find a husband if I cannot even dance or converse with gentlemen? Were you this nervous when you debuted?" you cried.

She sighed. "I will confess I was not. We each have skills which come more naturally to us than others. But you need not worry. That does not mean that you will never be able to charm a gentleman. It only means that you need more practice in the arts of… conversation and flirtation than others."

You blinked at her. "Will you practice with me?"

"I would love to- but it will not help. You are too comfortable with me. You need to practice under more realistic conditions with a real gentleman. But a gentleman with whom the stakes are low, and who will not mind if you make a few mistakes."

A servant entered the parlour and curtsied. "Mrs. Yoon- a Mr. Kim Mingyu has arrived to see you."

"Yes- please show him in," your sister-in-law replied before smiling at you. "Your practice gentleman is here, it seems."

You stared at her in disbelief.

"What?"

Mr. Kim entered the room. You had not been able to see him clearly in the darkness and emotional haze of the Duchess' ball the previous night, but he appeared in front of you now, in all his present glory.

Kim Mingyu was tall and handsome, with a charming smile and twinkling eyes that radiated a mixture of playfulness and confidence. He wore a fashionable riding coat. His dark hair was soft and brushed his forehead lightly.

You were stunned into silence.

"Excellent," your sister-in-law said when she noticed your horrified expression. "That look is exactly what we are hoping to ease you out of, with enough practice. Mr. Kim; come join us!"

Mingyu gracefully took a seat across from you and flashed his perfect smile.

"Miss Yoon," he greeted you. "I must apologise for my behaviour the previous night. I really did not see you on the balcony."

You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out. Clenching your fists, you forced yourself to respond calmly. "No-I mean…it was not… you did nothing wrong… I was hiding…"

Mr. Kim bit back his smile.

"Ah," he said calmly, with a tone of understanding. "I see the problem."

Your sister-in-law turned to him. "As you can see, Miss Yoon is having some trouble engaging in conversation. I thought, as one of the more experienced bachelors of the ton in matters of flirtation and courtship, you might be persuaded to take her under your wing."

Mingyu grinned. "I would be delighted."

You stared at them. "But-but…"

"Mr. Kim is a notorious rake," your sister-in-law told you matter-of-factly. You stared at the gentleman sitting across from you in shock, expecting him to be offended by her name-calling, but Mingyu only nodded solemnly.

You had to object. "Sister, surely he is not-"

"No, Mrs. Yoon is perfectly right," Mingyu interrupted you. "I have gathered quite the reputation for myself and it is wholly deserved."

"O-oh."

"Mr. Kim has generously offered his services," your sister-in-law continued. "He is not only prepared to teach you how to flirt and converse with gentlemen at social events, he is also prepared to enter into a public courtship with you until you are ready to venture out on your own."

"A courtship?" you demanded.

"It is, of course, a false one," Mingyu explained to you calmly. "It may take some time until you are fully ready and confident enough to converse with your real suitors. Until then, I would be happy to play the part of a jealous, lovesick suitor who intends to keep you all to himself. I shall interfere and sweep you away from any gentlemen you are not ready to speak to. I can prevent further uncomfortable situations and act as a buffer. This way, you will not appear rude, and the blame for any unpleasant situations will fall upon me."

"I see…."

Your sister-law nodded. "Once you are ready, you may publicly end your courtship with Mr. Kim and proceed to pursue the man of your choosing. Nobody will blame you- he is a known rake, after all, and you would not be the first young lady to have her heart broken by him."

"Well," Mingyu chimed in with a gracious smile. "I will not presume that Miss Yoon wishes to have her heart broken by me. If it suits you better, I will be delighted to pretend that you were the one who broke my heart. We may orchestrate the ending of our courtship in a manner of your choosing."

You swallowed. "But my mother-"

Your sister-in-law grinned. "Mr. Kim is an only son and is the sole owner of a very wealthy estate not far from where the Chois live. Your mother will not object to him courting you. Of course, she need not know the truth."

It was an elaborate and dangerous scheme. You were not sure if it would succeed but you could see the genuineness in your sister-in-law's eyes. She really wanted to help you, and after the disaster at the Duchess of Graham's ball, you would be a fool if you did not admit that you needed all the help you could obtain.

You would have to trust her.

"Miss Yoon?" Mr. Kim asked with a charming smile. "Do I have your permission to court you?"

You took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Kim. You do."

—-----------------------------------------------------

#mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #regency!au #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #mingyu angst

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marzipanandminutiae · 9 months

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Rating the Femme en Noir Crimson Peak collection when I should be going to bed (it's not ALL critical, actually!)

no judgment at all to people who like the collection. nothing can achieve higher than a 7/10 because it's all synthetic. let's get into it

Edith Victorian Gown in Ivory

...yeah! that's basically Edith's nightgown copied exactly, so it's a 7/10 from me

2. Lady Lucille Victorian Dress With Capelet In Teal

What. um. What does this have to do with anything Lucille wears? It's blue velvet and it's a dress; there the similarities end. Why is there a ruffly capelet? That's something Edith wears, not Lucille. Why are there leg-o-mutton sleeves? Why is there no trim whatsoever? (that last is to become a running theme.) 3/10.

3. Allerdale Moth Wallpaper Babydoll Dress in Olive

There's a longer version, and were it a natural fabric, I'd be tempted to buy it and alter it into a blouse and over-skirt or something. This one is honestly pretty cute, though I forget what part of the house this wallpaper appears in. 7/10.

4. Edith Victorian Knit Cardigan in Olive

I get that they want to modernize these things for their target audience, but the original being SO much more fitted and sumptuous-looking just makes this one look sad. It's like Wish.com Edith. 5/10 for at least keeping the little velvet pumpkins.

5. Ghost Shoulder Bag

If this were leather, I would buy it. Not a huge fan of Margaret being the ghost on the front, though- I feel like Enola or Eleanor would be more photogenic. Poor Margaret. 6/10 though they're lucky I don't take points off for calling it "vegan leather" in the description. Be honest- it's plastic.

6. Belladonna Maxi Dress in Crimson Red

This is just an existing product of theirs But In Red. Pretty, but 4/10 for lack of effort.

7. Lady Mourning Victorian Gown in Black

It's the nightgown in black with a sash. Try harder. 3/10 and I'm skipping any color repeats labeled as different dresses from here on out.

8. Mourning Victorian Bonnet in Black

You know what? Yeah. Sure! That's a cute bonnet. Good job. 7/10.

9. Lace Mourning Scarf Veil in Black.

You can get a yard of nylon chantilly lace for less than $28, pretty as this looks. 5/10.

10. Victorian Cycling Pullover Sweater in Black

I mean. I guess. What does this have to do with Crimson Peak, exactly? Why is "Lucille" wearing puffed sleeves when, again, her clothing being tight has so much character logic behind it? It's a mystery. 5/10.

11. Victorian Velvet Bustle Skirt in Black

This didn't photograph well, but it appears to have some cool pleat details. I don't like 19th-century skirts getting shortened, but that's more a matter of personal preference than reaction to movie inspiration or lack thereof. 6/10.

12. Taffeta Edwardian Blouse in Marigold

This comes in multiple colors, but I picked the marigold because it illustrates that Wish.com effect once again.

The OG bodice from the movie that they're clearly trying to evoke. It has DETAIL! it has TRIM! It has LUSH FABRIC! And obviously you can't do that with a mass-produced piece, but ye gods, why would you set yourself up for failure by trying? If they hadn't gone for the look of a specific movie costume, their blouse wouldn't look disappointing by comparison. 5/10

13. Wicker Tilt Hat With Black Veil

Once again I feel they shot themselves in the foot here. It's cute! But it suffers by trying to be something that was better in the movie.

Not great by comparison; it's TOO close without going all the way. 6/10 because it is cute, though.

[skipped a bunch more veils and some lace mitts, which were cute but have nothing to do with How Well Or Poorly The CPeak Inspiration Was Executed In My Opinion]

14. Victorian Hands Belt in Silver

THIS IS NOT THE CRIMSON PEAK HAND BELT. THIS IS NOT EVEN TRYING TO BE THE CRIMSON PEAK HAND BELT. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS?

IT IS THIS 1970S BELT- WHICH, LIKE THE ONE IN THE MOVIE, IS NOT BASED ON ANY VICTORIAN ORIGINAL THAT I'M AWARE OF -THAT HAS BEEN COPIED 50000 TIMES. DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND WAIT FOR CUTTLE AND BONE TO HAVE ANOTHER PREORDER OF ACTUAL CPEAK HAND BELTS. 0/10.

Conclusion: Not all bad, but I feel like I actually would have gone in a more modern direction with the resources and limitations of this collection. You're never going to be as good as the movie costumes at their own game, not with mass-manufactured pieces. So why set yourself up for failure? Bringing the characters, themes, and motifs to a yet-unexplored time and place (with some Victwardian touches, of course!) seems like it would have been a better way to go about this, IMO.

Also stop being allergic to trim when you're taking inspiration from a movie with oodles of passementerie and beadwork and lace all over everything.

5/10 overall.

#long post #fashion #crimson peak #also for the love of everything can we get some natural-fiber clothes that AREN'T beige linen?#Gothic Natural Fiber Attire When!!!

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morri-draws · 7 months

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Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 1

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,245

Read on Ao3

The king and queen of Camelot sit at breakfast in the royal chambers, cherishing their morning together before they are required for their duties.

“Oh, that reminds me,” King Arthur says, fork in hand. “The royal clothier is retiring. He has served us for many years, but is getting too old to continue in the position. I shall look among those who serve the nobility for a worthy successor,”

“Why not look in the town?” Queen Guinevere takes a sip from her goblet. “There are many skilled people there. They should not be overlooked just because they have not yet made a name for themselves. We should give them a chance,”

The king smiles at his wife. “You’re right. The common people should have the opportunity to shine. Would you like to see to it, or shall I?”

Knowing that Arthur’s version of him ‘seeing to it’ would be to send out his manservant to do it for him, the queen decides against it.

“I shall go. I would like to see how our people in the city fair. I haven’t been to the lower town for some time,”

Having just reorganized the shelves where the fabrics are stored and displayed, you sweep the floor, gathering any dust and threads that may have fallen during your time tidying. Once a neat pile is formed, you return the broom into the back room and reach for a dustpan and brush, when you hear the familiar jingle of your doorbell, alerting you that someone has entered your shop.

Hastily brushing off your dress with your hands, you step into the small shop front, to see the finest lady who has ever entered your humble establishment. Not just any lady either, but the Queen of Camelot herself. You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment, before lowering into a deep curtsy.

“How may I be of service, my queen?”

“Please, there is no need for such formality,” The queen beckons for you to stand. “What is your name?”

You tell her.

The queen smiles. “Well, (Y/N), I would like you to make me a new gown,”

Her words strike you with utter disbelief, and you’re surely standing with mouth ajar, like a gaping fish.

“Is that something you could do?” The queen asks, jolting you out of your paralysed state.

“Of course my lady, it would be an honour to fashion a new gown for you. Although I am not sure if I stock any fabrics fine enough,”

“I shan’t know until I have seen what you have. Shall we take a look?” she gestures to the fabric shelf behind the counter.

“Of course,” You lead her to the display. “As you can see, it is mostly wool and linen. Any finer fabrics I have are in small lengths, for bodices and girdles and such,”

The queen peruses the fabrics, handling some between her fingers to inspect them. Her dark eyes look over the various bolts, before resting on one on the lower shelf.

“What about this?” She reaches for a silvery-purple velvet.

“Oh yes,” You say, bending down to slide out the bolt. “This was for a wedding gown for a merchant’s daughter. Unfortunately, the wedding was called off,”

“That is sad indeed,” The queen says. “Do you think you might use the fabric for something else?”

“Honestly, no. It has been sitting there for some time. You see, I usually don’t work with such fine fabrics. I just don’t get those sort of customers,”

“Well, then it seems fate has decided,” The queen smiles. “I would like my new gown to be made with it,”

“Yes, my lady,” You pick up the bolt and place it on a nearby table. “Do you have a particular style of gown and trimmings in mind? If not, I can draw up some ideas,”

“I think I would like you to surprise me,”

Her answer is unexpected, filling you with nervousness but also excitement. “Very well, my lady. I will just need to take your measurements, then I can get started right away,”

You show her to the back room and close the door once you’re both inside. Taking out a tape measure, your sewing journal and a quill and ink, you take the queen’s measurements, marking the numbers down in the journal. Once that is complete, you wish each other good day.

Once the queen of Camelot steps out of your shop, you exhale, releasing tension you didn’t realise you were holding. The whole encounter hardly feels like it even happened.

For the next two days, you work on the queen’s gown. First, you sketch a number of designs until you come up with one you’re pleased with. Then you draft the pattern, before sewing a calico mock-up of the gown. On the morning of the third day, the mock-up is ready for a test fitting, so you place it carefully in a wicker basket you usually use for shopping at the market, along with your case of dressmaking tools.

You trudge your way up the muddy streets of the lower city, legs aching from the incline, when you finally reach Camelot castle.

You pass through the portcullis and over the bridge, finding yourself in a large courtyard. You look around in wonder at the grand, snowy-white walls of the palace, never having seen a structure so ornate. Yes, you have of course seen a view of the turrets from a distance in the lower town, but it doesn’t compare to seeing it up-close.

Once you’ve taken in the sights, it occurs to you that you have no idea where to go. Turning on the spot, you attempt to identify entrances into the castle. Would it be most proper to find a servant’s entrance? Perhaps you should find someone who looks like a servant to help you. You’re about to single out someone in the courtyard when footsteps approach you from behind. You whirl around to see a man dressed in chainmail and a scarlet cloak: a knight of Camelot. You have seen them come and go through the lower town, both on foot and on horseback. You’d often watch them as they passed, wondering what sights they might see on their patrols and quests throughout the kingdom.

The knight has dark, shoulder length hair that waves at the ends, and facial hair, a length somewhere between stubble and a short beard.

“Do you need some help?” He asks. “You look a little lost,”

“I need to see the queen,” You reply.

“And what business might you have with the queen of Camelot?” He asks in a way not at all accusatory or suspicious, but as a general inquiry.

“The queen has tasked me with making a new gown for her. I have come to conduct a fitting,”

He nods, your reason accepted. “I can take you to her. Here,” He reaches for the handle of your basket and takes it from your grasp.

“There’s no need for you to carry that, sir. I can manage,” You move to take the basket back.

The knight pulls his arm away so you can’t reach it. “And there’s no need to call me sir. The name’s Gwaine,”

“A pleasure to meet you, Gwaine. I am (Y/N),”

“Well met,” He smiles. “Shall we go?” He inclines his head toward a staircase across the courtyard.

You follow your guide into the castle and up a narrow flight of stairs. As you pass through a corridor, he turns his head to you.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Have you been in Camelot long?” He asks, maintaining his stride.

“A couple years,” You reply, keeping pace. “I still can’t believe the queen visited my shop to commission a gown,”

“That is quite the honour,” Gwaine says, turning a corner and leading you down another passage, before halting in front of a double door. “Here we are. Let’s see if she’s in,”

He knocks upon the door thrice.

“Enter,” a feminine voice says from within.

Gwaine opens the door and pokes his head inside. “(Y/N) to see you about a dress,”

He steps aside and gestures for you to enter.

“Good luck,” He smiles as he hands you your basket and heads back the way he came.

You step into the royal chambers, where the queen stands beside a rectangular table, two windows in the wall behind her flooding the room with light.

“Please come inside,” The queen says with a smile.

“Thank you my lady,” You come forward a few steps. “I have made a mock-up version of your gown, so that I may conduct a fitting. Then I can see if any adjustments need to be made before I start on the actual gown,”

“Of course. You may set your things down here,” She gestures to the table.

You place your basket down and retrieve the dress, a box of pins and a piece of chalk from within it. The queen shows you to the left of the room, where a double archway leads into a bedchamber. A large, four poster bed is positioned against the back wall. On the adjacent wall is a stained glass window with a writing desk in front. Against the wall opposite the bed is a full length mirror beside a wardrobe and a wooden privacy screen, which the queen steps behind.

“Do you need some assistance getting undressed, my lady?”

“Yes, thank you. Just with the back fastenings,”

She sweeps her curly, dark brown locks over her shoulder so you can access said fastenings. Once they are all undone, she does the rest, removing the gown so she is just in her shift. You help her into the mock-up gown and pin it closed at the back.

“Turn around please, my lady,”

The queen does as you say, and you inspect the fit of the gown. You place pins here and there, where adjustments need to be made, and make some markings with chalk. Once you are satisfied, you help her undress.

“If you have the time, my lady, I’d like to make these adjustments now, so we can try it on again in a few moments,”

“I have time,” She gestures to the table for you to sit down, while she opens the wardrobe and retrieves a crossover robe, which she slips on over her shift. She then joins you at the table, sitting at the other end to give you space to work.

“It still seems so strange having someone else make my clothes for me,” She says.

You glance up from your work.

“I used to be in your place now, making gowns for… well…” She trails off.

“Do you ever miss how things used to be?” You ask, as you weave your needle in and out of the fabric.

The queen looks to the side thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry,” You say quickly. “That’s probably a silly question,”

“No, not at all,” The queen smiles reassuringly. “There are some things I miss about those days. As a servant, I could pass through the castle and go completely unnoticed. You can’t go anywhere like that as queen. Everyone’s eyes are on you at all times, like they’re waiting for you to slip up, make a mistake,”

You nod as you listen to her answer. “That must be difficult,”

“It can be,” She agrees. “But one thing I definitely don’t miss is hauling buckets of water up flights of stairs to fill my mistress’ bathtub,”

You laugh. “Indeed. Hopefully one day someone works out a better system,”

You finish off your stitch, snipping off the end with scissors.

“The adjustments are made, if you’d like to try it on again?”

You both return to the screen and you repeat the process from before, pinning the gown closed and having her turn around. You look over the garment, smoothing and tugging some areas, until you step back, satisfied.

You help the queen out of the mock-up gown and back into her regular gown, before you pack the mock-up and your sewing tools back into the basket.

“I will get to work with the velvet right away. It should be ready in a few days,”

“Wonderful,” The queen replies. “But please do not rush yourself. I have no deadline to meet,”

You give a small curtsy and leave the royal chambers, tracing your steps back to the courtyard, thankfully not getting lost on the way. Once you’re in familiar ground again, you make your way home in good time.

You spend the next few days working on the queen’s gown, your focus entirely on that task, since you don’t have any other work at the moment. Truth be told, your business hasn’t been doing so well, and you’ve been starting to think you might have to find more work. But this job for the queen should help to at least give you more time to figure something out.

Four days pass and the gown is finally finished. As you look over your creation, you believe it is your finest work yet. Once you’ve made yourself some lunch, you wrap the gown in paper, and carry the parcel up to the castle.

With no knight to guide you this time, you make your own way across the courtyard and up the steps, entering the castle to climb stairs and walk down corridors, until you make it to the royal chambers. You rap on the door and the queen greets you a moment later, beckoning you inside.

“It is finished, my lady,” You hold out the parcel in front of you. “Would you like to try it on?”

“I would love to,” The queen presses the palms of her hands together excitedly.

You follow her to the dressing screen and help her out of her current gown and into the new. Once it’s all fastened, she steps over to the large mirror by the wardrobe and gasps once she sees her reflection.

“(Y/N), this is absolutely beautiful,” She turns her body from side to side, looking at every angle, before shooting an ecstatic grin your way.

“If there is anything at all you would like changed or adjusted, just say the word,”

“Oh no, this is perfect,” She strides toward you, taking your hands in hers. “You are very skilled, (Y/N), you should be immensely proud of your work,”

Warmth flushes your cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you, my lady,”

“I won’t wear it today, since I’ve already been seen about the castle wearing something else. I don’t want to appear as a frivolous queen who changes her gown five times a day,” She grins. “I’ll wear it to the council meeting tomorrow, I think. If you can help me back into my other gown, I have something I want to discuss with you,”

You join the queen behind the screen again to help her undress. Once she’s back in her previous gown, she leads you to the table and you sit down together.

“Tell me, (Y/N), are you happy with your current situation in the lower town?”

Taken aback at the question, you’re unsure what to say.

“Please, be honest,” The queen says. “Is your shop doing well? Can you get by comfortably?”

You look down at your hands in your lap. “Truthfully, my lady, business is not so good,”

She gives you a sympathetic look. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking you. I just wanted an idea what your situation was, before I made you any offer,”

“Offer?”

“I am very pleased with your work, (Y/N), and that is why I want to offer you the position of Royal Clothier,”

You stare, gobsmacked. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” She smiles. “I understand this is no small thing. If you accept, you would move into your own chambers in the castle. You would leave behind your current home and shop. However, as royal clothier, you will not need to rent your rooms as they come with the position. The chambers are fully furnished and well-lit, perfect for needlework,”

You listen intently, trying to absorb every word of what the queen is saying. No more worrying about making rent, no more hunching over your work in a dingy room, no more fretting about if and when the next job might come along.

“I know this is a lot to take in, so I don’t expect you to answer right away. You may have a few days to think it over,”

“I don’t need to think it over,” You blurt out. Of course you’re scared. It’s a huge change. But you can’t carry on how you are now. You know this has to be a step in the right direction, and not just a step forward, but a step up. “I accept the position,”

“That’s wonderful!” The queen grins. “Of course you must have a few days to pack up your belongings. Please let me know if you need any help, I can arrange for someone to assist you,”

“I don’t have much to move,” You admit. “I will be able to manage on my own. Thank you for your kindness my lady. I cannot express how much it means to me to be given this opportunity,”

The queen takes your hand in hers. “You deserve for your skill to be recognised, (Y/N). I am more than happy to help with that,”

Overcome from this kindness, you find it hard to keep your emotions in check.

“I can see that I’ve quite overwhelmed you,” The queen says, standing up. “I should let you get back home,”

You stand as well. “Thank you again, my lady. You can expect me in two days’ time. I won’t need any more,”

“Excellent,” She leads you to the door, and opens it partially, looking back at you. “Just one more thing, (Y/N). My name is Guinevere, but my friends call me Gwen, and I would like us to be friends,”

You smile. “So I should call you Gwen?” You confirm.

“Exactly. No need to call me my lady. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,”

You make it back to the lower town at an alarming rate, your elated mood adding a spring in your step and speed to your gait.

Beginning your descent down the main street, a flash of scarlet ahead catches your eye. Four of Camelot’s knights on horseback are heading your way at a leisurely trot. You scan their faces, three of which you do not recognise, but the fourth you realise is the knight you met a few days ago, Sir Gwaine. Since the knights are riding, they are soon at your position in the street, three of the four passing by. Sir Gwaine slows his horse and comes to a halt, dismounting. He leads the horse by its reins and comes your way, greeting you with a smile.

“You look very pleased,” He says, stopping a few feet from you. “How goes your quest for the queen?”

You break into a smile. “She offered me the position of royal clothier, and I accepted,”

“Congratulations,” He grins, his delight seeming genuine. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around, then?”

“Yes, I suppose you will. I will be living in the castle,”

“You’re moving up in the world,” He says, stroking his horse’s flank. “Anyway, I’d better get back. Duty calls. Until next time,” He gives a small wave and mounts his horse again.

#gwaine #gwaine x reader #sir gwaine #merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #reader insert #merlin fic #bbc merlin fic #my writing

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scorpioriesling · 6 months

Text

Unsettled (Part 5)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: Lucien x reader

Warnings: None!

Summary: Reader is finally able to find her fate, realizing it was closer than she realized all along as she makes a shocking discovery.

SR’s Note: Final part! Omg. Please read part 4 first if you haven’t yet. Also I’d recommend listening to Enchanted by Taylor Swift during this part, specifically starting the song when Y/N is led into the middle of the dance floor through the end of the story! <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“Are you sure this will work?” You ask nervously.

“I’m positive.” The High Lords reassuring gaze doesn’t do much to settle the nerves inside you as he places a hand on your shoulder and ushers you forward. You’re behind the velvet curtain atop the marble staircase in the grand ballroom, Tamlin to your side. The two of you have been looking for Lucien for over an hour now, not finding him anywhere. This was the last resort, but with your and his knowledge of the dress you were wearing, your royal highness had quite the clever idea.

While clever, it would involve putting you on display.

“Are you ready?” He asks. You shake your head.

“No, but we’ll do it anyway.” You say. He grins at you, and the curtain pulls back, revealing the two of you to the ballroom of High Fae below. You stare down into the sea of people, so many masks, dresses, suits and sparkling headpieces. There’s no way you’d be able to find Lucien from here. But he sure would be able to see you. If he was still in the ballroom, that is.

“Could I have your attention, everyone, please.” The room instantly quiets at the sound of the High Lord’s voice echoing throughout the vast space. He stares into the crowd, scanning from person to person.

“I had the honor this year of inviting a very special person to this event, and to my humble delight, she said yes,” he begins. You blush. Though it had been established you would remain only friends, whoever ended up with the High Lord would be one lucky lady.

“…This woman is my very talented, very intelligent friend, Y/N.” The room begins to clap, and you curtsy to them. He clears his throat. Oh boy, he isn’t done.

“Many of you asked about the decorations on your way in tonight — these were provided by Ms. Y/N, so you can thank her for those.” He slides his eyes to you and raises a brow, as if to say, are you ready? You take it as your cue, and step as close as you can to the balcony so the onlookers can see your dress in full.

“But other than florals, Y/N has come up with quite the creative attire tonight; no offense to anyone, but she outshines everyone here.” A mixture of laughter and murmurs linger through the crowd, jealous fae and those finding the High Lord funny or agreeable alike. You look back over your shoulder and Tamlin nods to you one last time.

“I’ll allow her to show you herself.”

That’s your cue.

You bunch the skirt of your dress in one hand, Tamlin appearing beside you to take your other. Holding your hand above your head, you begin spinning, hand held tight to the bit of stability he provided above you. The crowd begins to gasp and erupt in conversation as your dress fades from autumnal amber to fresh spring pink, the magic laced into it removing the original latin-style off shoulder balloon sleeves as well. You’re left in a strapless, glittering, fresh rosé gown, and the crowd below erupts in applause. Tamlin leans in.

“I told you it’d work.”

You laugh, a wide smile stretching across your face. He drops your hand, and you both bow to the crowd below once more.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the dancing resume!” You take Tamlin’s elbow in your hand as he leads you down the grand staircase.

“Thank you,” you say once you get halfway down. There is already a crowd forming at the bottom, likely looking to converse with the High Lord. You’d let them; you had a Vanserra to find.

“Ohh, that was nothing. It made my night more interesting, at that.” He says with a smile. You pause just before the last few steps and turn to him.

“I mean it. Thank you.” He smiles as you reach for his golden mask and pull it from his face, revealing the handsome exterior beneath. You press a small kiss to his cheek, and he lets you go as you once again descend on the crowd to look for Lucien.

✧･ﾟ: *

There was only a few dances left, and time was running out. Maybe Lucien left. He did say earlier he didn’t enjoy these things much, right? Or he found them boring? You couldn’t remember. That was unfortunate; maybe he didn’t even see your public display just for him, just to get his attention.

You’d talked with a few faeries in passing while trying to find Lucien, but no matter there you looked, you couldn’t find him anywhere. You were down to the last two songs of the night when you found Tamlin once more.

“You didn’t end up finding him, huh.” He says, sounding a bit dejected himself. You sigh, tossing your mask onto one of the marble stairs and looking down at the floor.

“No… no I didn’t.” You say. Tamlin sighs, and taps his foot.

“Well… there is only one song left after my announcement, and then after that everyone leaves,” he says, trying to sound hopeful. “Think of it this way; at least it’s almost over, and it wasn’t all bad was it? It was at least kind-of fun?” You offer him a sad smile.

“Yes. It was kind-of fun.” He pulls you in for a hug, and you fight to keep the tears from spilling over. All that practice, all those hours, all that work. All you wanted was for one dance with Lucien, just one! And he’s no where to be found. He probably hated you, he wouldn’t even talk to you earlier. You just might have missed your chance.

The song playing ends, and Tamlin releases you, winking before jogging up the stairs once more. Everyone peers up at him, and the room is almost silent.

“The traditional last dance of the masquerade is done by the High Lord and a partner to the Spring Waltz. Everyone is welcome to join, grab a partner and let’s begin one last time for the night shall we?” Applause and cheers ring out, and you almost don’t feel the hand on your shoulder until it taps you once. You spin around to come face-to-face with the copper mask of a fox. It doesn’t take long to see the eyes within, and the red hair flowing behind the wearer’s face. You gasp, and throw your arms around Lucien on instinct.

“Lucien!” You exclaim, your cry muffled in the fabric of his white collar. His hair tickles your forehead as you squeeze tight, his arms wrapping around your waist timidly. “Here you are, finally. I’ve been looking for you!”

“H-hey, uh, Y/N…” he pulls you off of him and your smile falls, replaced with the frustration you’d been feeling all night.

“Ohhh no. Do not even start with me,” You say. He removes his mask, and stares back at you with a raised eye brow.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been looking for you all night!” You squeak. Your hands begin to shake. This is it, this is the moment. “I was trying to find you and I couldn’t, I thought you left and-“

“I didn’t see a point in staying.” He said flatly. You roll your eyes.

“Any why is that?”

“I saw you. Outside.” He says.

You shrug in confusion. “Alright? What do you mean?”

“With. Tamlin.” He says, tone clipped. Your face softens when you realize what he is referring to.

“Oh… oh no that,” you laugh. A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“What is so funny? You kissed him. You quite literally kissed him.” He says, face tight with anger. You smile sweetly at him, happy to know what you feel is reciprocated.

“And… you’re unhappy about it?” You press. He crosses his arms and huffs.

“Are you kidding? Of course I’m unhappy. Why would I like to see the woman I’ve been trying to convince myself I don’t have feelings for, for MONTHS, mind you,” he takes a breath. “…kissing my best friend?”

You only offer him a smile. “That’s why you ordered all those flowers?” He gives you an incredulous look.

“Yeah! I ordered the damn flowers, ok? I wanted to see you - wait, how did you know about that?” His brows knit together. You giggle, and place a hand on his jaw, brushing over it gently.

“Tamlin told me all about it, after we figured out we’re just friends. Only, friends.” You clarify. His face softens, hope filling his eyes. A small smile creeps onto his face, as one of his hands finds your waist. You let out a small gasp as his gaze meets yours.

“You still owe me a favor.” You don’t roll your eyes this time.

“Mhm…” You nod. “What do you want?” He takes your other hand in his, the fit perfect.

“Dance with me.”

Your heart leaps as he guides you to the very middle of the room, the song only just beginning. The other fae seem to part like the sea, leaving the floor open for you. Lucien’s grip on your waist is firm, and heat flushes your cheeks. Subconsciously, you’ve been dreaming of a moment like this. A moment so perfect, you feel like a queen in a royal dress, dancing with your prince. His other hand clasps yours, bent at the elbow, and he begins moving. You almost begin to worry, you hadn’t danced with him before and you didn’t want to mess anything up. It was, after all, the last dance of the evening.

“Follow my lead,” he says quietly. You smile up at him, finding his stare already upon you. He guides you back and forth, the intricate combination of footwork flowing so easily between the two of you. As the melody ramps up, he dips you low, twirls you around, and holds you close to him. Neither of you notice the dance floor clearing, making way for the two of you who are far more intriguing to watch than any other pairs who were dancing along before. Tamlin watches in satisfaction from the top of the staircase above.

You break eye contact for just a moment, and catch the sight of almost every High Fae staring back at you. You’re instantly insecure; it wasn’t meant to be like this, and you felt bad for embarrassing Lucien by putting him out here on the spot with a lesser faerie this way.

“Lucien,” you whisper. He grins at you, sweeping you to the left. “I think everyone’s staring at you.” You say. He chuckles, letting go of your hand to place both hands on your waist now. You try to keep your breathing steady.

“Trust me,” he says, leaning impossibly close and dipping you low once more toward the ground. His lips almost touch yours as excited whispers emit from the crowd around you. “…they’re all looking at you.”

You continue the waltz, finishing with a curtsy and an uproar of cheering around you. Tamlin announced the end of the ball, and everyone begins to file out of the ballroom, milling about and continuing conversations about the night while seeing themselves on their way.

Lucien’s hand finds the small of your back, and it feels like electricity shoots through you from where his skin meets the fabric of your dress. “Mind if I see to it that you make it to your carriage safely?” You smirk at him.

“What happened to the sassy, arrogant male I met just a few months ago?” He scoffs, pulling you into him and beginning the walk to the front of the estate. It isn’t until you’re halfway down the front staircase that he stops, ending up one step lower than you. He turns and takes both of your hands in his, thumbs slowly rubbing circles into the backs of your palms.

“It seems we’ve been here before,” you begin.

“I think last time, you threw petunias at me.” He says, and you laugh.

“Peonies!” You correct, simmering to a giggle. He smiles, an open mouth smile that you have grown to love. The circles on your hands stop, and his smile grows into something else. Something more as he pulls you closer to him, hands now playing with the seams on your dress and running up and down your sides.

“You have the most beautiful laugh I’ve ever heard Y/N.” He says. You feel as through air is between each of your bones; you’re weightless, you’re on a cloud. He looks you up and down, slowly dragging his eyes from the bottom of your skirts to where he meets your eyes again, and finally settling on your lips. “I didnt mind being your fake date to the ball, but…” he laughs nervously. “I think we could be something more. If that’s what you want, anyway.”

You have to fight the urge to cling to him and kiss him all night long.

Instead, you place a hand on his jawline, your thumb running across his bottom lip. His eyes widen, then grow dark with need. The tangly feeling in your stomach feels like wet noodles being pulled from boiling water, and being straightened out one by one. Finally, it’s all becoming clear.

Cauldron, please just kiss me Y/N.

You swear you can hear his voice in your head. Playing along, you try answering it.

It’s all I want to do. It’s all I’ve wanted for months from you, Lucien.

His eyes grow wide. “Are you serious?” He asks. You drop your hand, but his don’t leave your sides.

“You… you can hear me?” You ask.

“In my head yes, like you’re speaking aloud.” He answers. Just like that, you both feel everything making sense all at once. Those twisty, weird feelings aren’t so twisty anymore. They’re clear, defined, and no longer leaving you feeling unsettled.

As soon as the bond snaps into place, Lucien looks so happy he could cry. A tear actually falls freely down your cheek, a happy laugh escaping your lips. Lucien takes the opportunity to pull you close and crash his lips onto yours. The short scruff tickles your soft skin, and you tangle your hands in his hair. His hands pull you to him, settling on your lower back and stroking up and down as his lips move against yours. He tastes like cinnamon and vanilla; you can’t get enough of it. The feeling inside you — the bond — only growing more taught with each passing moment you are connected with one another. Finally breaking the kiss, Lucien pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, and you jump as a soft crackling sounds overhead.

Beams of light steam through the sky, firework after firework exploding in an array of colors for everyone to see. Lucien pulls you close to his chest, kissing the top of your head as you watch the wondrous pops of color overhead. His arms wrap around your waist as he stands behind you, and you watch until the last one sprays across the night sky. The masquerade attendees clap, and you join in too. Many of the fae take that as a final que to leave, and you do the same.

“I suppose I’ll be coming around the estate more often to see my mate?” You ask, the last word so foreign on your tongue. Foreign, but pleasant. Comforting. Lucien plants another kiss on your lips, spinning you around and cupping your face in his hands.

“You can do anything and everything you please; I’m all yours.”

✧･ﾟ: *

#a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar #acofas #lucien acotar #acotar smut #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra #Spotify

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asmutwriter · 6 months

Text

Just A Woman (Part 1 Section 3)

DESCRIPTION: After your weekend with the Bridgerton family you go back to your usual living. Bumping into a familiar face whilst at work

A/N - I have condensed partr 1 (which you can find here) into 4 smaller chunks so that you can have a better reader experience

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

WORD COUNT: 2819

From beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of prostitution, time period sexism, mentions of sex work

DISCLAIMERS

- I wrote this in my knowledge of sex workers and I am truly sorry if I got it wrong and/or is offensive, that is not what I wanted to do and I’m sorry if that is the case

- This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

The next morning you awaken late again. You get dressed and go downstairs. After you have had breakfast you go to find Violet. You bow to her slightly as you see her “Lady Bridgerton. I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if I could have your help. I’m not fully acquainted with balls and I am unsure of which dress to wear” she smiles and looks at you

“My dear, I’d be happy to help you” you both go to your room, showing her your dresses she picks out the prettiest one for you. Holding it up against your body “Yes this one. The colour will suit you just fine” she smiles and lies it on the bed “get dressed about 10 minutes before it starts. It will ensure your dress stays as nice as it can be for when the guests arrive” you nod and smile at her, bowing as she leaves the room. You go over and gently trace the fabric of the dress.

The day seems to take longer than normal as you pace around the house. Anxious about tonight. You get dressed into the gown, one of the maids helping you do up your corset and put the dress on. You walk out to see all the Bridgerton’s and John waiting for you. You smile and go over to John. You see him put a finger up “I have something I want you to wear tonight. A gift from me to you” he turns and takes out a box. Opening it he reveals a beautiful necklace. The colours matching perfectly to your dress.

“Holy shit!” you cover your mouth. He tries hard not to laugh as do some of the Bridgerton siblings. He picks it up from the velvet box,

“May I?” you nod as he places the piece around your neck. You lightly trace the jewellery. He smiles as he watches your face beam with joy as you hug him. Pulling away and straightening your dress again

“How do I look?” you twirl

“Beautiful” he takes your hand and kisses it

“Good. That was the correct answer” he laughs as he excuses himself momentarily. You see him go over to the older Bridgerton boys but you are too busy talking to Daphne to take into account what he says. That’s when the first guests start to arrive. You hide in the corner of the room, watching as the men and woman dance away. All beautifully choreographed. You have found yourself at a buffet table, indulging in the grapes there. Colin walks over to you

“Are you not going to dance?” you shake your head

“If I dance I fear I may fall over and make a complete fall of myself” he nods as you hear his name being called. You turn to see a young ginger haired girl approach you. You smile at her and bow slightly.

“Colin have you seen your sister? I’ve been trying to find her but I haven’t had such luck”

“No I haven’t Pen. I saw her earlier but not recently” she nods as she looks at you and smiles

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. I’m Penelope”

“I’m Isabella” she bows her head slightly to you as she looks at Colin. You see complete admiration in her eyes as she looks at him. You see a similar look when he meets her gaze.

“I believe the next dance is starting” you say “It’d be a shame for you to not show off such a beautiful dress miss” you smile at the young girl. Nudging Colin “I would take her to the dance floor but it is not proper. Would you do me the honour of taking this beautiful girl for a dance?” he chuckles and offers his hand, you smile as she takes it and they head off. A few moments later you are met with Benedict. You look at him and offer him a grape to which he turns down. You pop it into your mouth as you watch the couples twirling and dancing. “What did John say to you earlier?”

“What do you mean?”

“He said something to you and your brothers earlier this evening. And I haven’t seen him tonight so I wondered what he asked you” you can see him about to go and change the subject but you interrupt him beforehand “if you don’t answer me I will ask your brothers. If they don’t answer me I’ll ask every single person at this party until I find out where he is” you smile at him innocently

“He said that he has an urgent meeting with someone so he will attend when he is free. He asked me and my brothers to keep you company and make sure you feel welcomed here” you nod and eat another grape

“Are you not going to dance?” he shakes his head “Why not?”

“No one here I’d like to dance with” you nod and look around “do you not want to dance?”

“I would but don’t you have to wait for someone to ask you?” you look at him as he nods. He puts his hand out for you to take

“Will you do me the honour?” you smile and take his hand. Letting him take you to the dance floor as he smiles at you, telling you the basic steps as he takes the lead. After the dance you bow to each other and go back to where you were standing. An older woman comes over to you and smiles

“Hello my dear. That dress and necklace is amazing”

“Thank you ma’am” you nod slightly at her in appreciation. She smiles

“Your dancing is amazing as well. It looked like you were having lots of fun” you nod and smile

“Oh it was great. I did nearly piss myself from excitement though” she looks shocked at your words but then laughs slightly. You look at Benedict who is also trying not to laugh at your words. “Where do I get a drink?”

“I’ll go get you a lemonade” you nod and smile as he walks away, leaving you with the woman. John’s mother walks over to you

“My dear. Why don’t you show Lady Danbury here your singing skills?”

“Oh no I couldn’t possibly-”

“I insist. It is my son’s ball so he will be happy for you to show your skills” Benedict walks over and gives you your drink. You take it

“Thank you” you smile but lean closer “save me”

“Come on my dear” she goes over and calls out “everyone. My lovely friend Isabella will be singing a song for you all” she looks at you. You tighten your grip on your drink

“Fuck it” you murmur and take your drink as a shot. You walk over to one of the instruments the band is playing “May I?” he nods and allows you on it. You start to play a few notes, thinking of words to sing. You start to sing, your voice filling the now quiet hall. Afterwards they clap for you

“How would people like another song?” you shake your head

“Oh no I-”

“Go on, sing for us some more” Johns mother says. You catch eyes with Benedict who mouths ‘go on’ at you. You glare at him before nodding slightly and playing the instrument again you start to sing words. Everyone claps again and you bow slightly. Going back over to Benedict

“Amazing performance there” you playfully hit his arm

“Hush. How much longer before I can take this dress off and wear something less damaging to my organs” he laughs slightly “I’m serious. I think my torsos gone numb. Plus I’m overheating. I feel a little like a lobster in a pot” he laughs again, making you glare at him but smile.

“I think it’s about an hour or so longer to go”

“Fucks sake” you say just as Lady Danbury walks over to you again, raising her eyebrow at your as she overhears your swear. You smile at her and bow slightly “m’lady. Pleasure to see you again”

“You have quite the excellent singing voice. Where do you hear the songs you sing?”

“Oh I make them up as I go. My friend always told me I have a good ear for musical notes”

“Yes. The words though my dear. They really speak to the soul do they not?” you nod and smile at her

“I have to admit, my other friend reads romantic novels constantly and I always mock her for it. Tending to make up soppy words on the spot to make her embarrassed” she laughs at your words

“Makes sense my dear. She is lucky to have a friend like you” she smiles as she leaves. You look at the Bridgerton brother

“Was I ok?” he nods

“You were great” he takes a sip of his drink “I think she may be quite fond of you” that is when Eloise and Penelope walk over to you. Penelope watching Colin fondly from the other side of the room. Eloise looks at you

“Danced with any men yet?”

“Only your brother. No one else has asked me to dance” she nods “have you two been in a dance yet?” they shake their heads. You look around, seeing if you can find a young man to dance with any of you. You make eye contact with someone who looks at you intensely. You break eye contact but before long he walks over to you four.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” he looks you up and down

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else” you smile at him. He looks at your eyes and grins

“No I know you. You work in that little place down the road. What’s it called? You know. The place with the who-”

“Yes Mr Bridgerton I would love to have another dance” you say as you take his hand and go to the dance floor. You see the two younger girls try to ask the gentlemen questions but he dismisses them both and walks away.

“Where do you work?” you shake your head at the question.

“That is not relevant. And now is not the time or place to ask me” you smile at him slightly, meeting your eyes.

The rest of the night goes slowly. But the following day goes by quickly when it is soon the evening and you must go. You are surprisingly sad to say goodbye to all the Bridgerton’s and John. But you make your leave, them driving a carriage back to your place of work. John allowed you to keep some of the dresses he leant you, noting he left you the money in one of the gowns. You get out of the carriage, walking home from the brothel. You open the door to your small and quiet house. 6 young girls running and hugging you. “We’ve missed you so much” they all start telling you about their days. You nodding and smiling at them all, knowing you must retire to bed soon as you are tired. The eldest notices

“I’ll put them to bed. Go and have a bath and go to sleep” you nod and do what she says. Falling asleep, memories of the past few days filling your dreams. The next morning you are awoken to find all the younger children crawled into your bed. You hug them all before leaving and getting dressed, going about your morning duties before they wake up. Once they have all awoken you all have lunch together and they go and play in the garden apart from Daisy who is sitting down reading a book.

“Not more romances I hope”

“This ones more a psychological book”

“Does the girl and the guy end up married at the end?” she nods “Then it’s a romance” she rolls her eyes at you as she places the book down on the table.

“Tell me about the ball. Was it as good as we always thought it’d be?”

“Honestly, it was better. I felt like a queen the whole evening”

“What was the food like?”

“Delicious. I managed to swipe a box of chocolates from them” you go over to your still unpacked bags and grab out a tray of unopened chocolates, showing it to her before putting it in a high shelf so the younger ones couldn’t reach it. You pull out one of the dresses and show her “I was allowed to keep 3 dresses as well. I picked the 3 prettiest ones” she goes over and touches the fabric. Letting her look at it you look at the clock. “I need to go to work. I won’t be long. I need to let them know I’m ok and home safely” she nods as she admires the other 2 dresses. You hug her before leaving.

Getting to your work place and entering it was a weird experience. You were so used to seeing people being prim and proper that it now seemed shocking to you for people to be grinding against each other half naked. You go and meet your friend who hugs you, cigarette in her hand “Isa! You’re back! You weren’t murdered” you shake your head as you get dressed into your working clothes. Some high stockings, a short skirt and a low cut corset.

“Honestly I’m glad to be back”

“Oh was no one hot enough for you to get your freak on?”

“Not that. More they were all too pristine so they wouldn’t dare even look at you in the eyes incise it caused pregnancy” you laugh as you bid her farewell and go out into the crowd of people. You go over and sit at the bar, ordering yourself a drink. A few minutes pass and you feel someone sit next to you. You take a sip of your drink before turning. “Hey ther-” you see Benedict sitting next to you, ordering a drink before he turns to you. A slight shocked expression. You look away “I’m sorry I must go” he takes your hand quickly

“Isabella?”

“I’m sorry you must have me confused for someone else” you continue to look at the ground. He tilts your head up slightly by your chin. Meeting your eyes with his

“Why are you in a brothel?”

“I could ask you the same thing”

“I think mine is a more obvious reason”

“And mine isn’t?” you motion at your clothes as he looks at your body. You see him shift slightly in his seat before looking at you again

“Why are you working in a brothel?” he whispers. You look around, grabbing his hand and taking him to a private room and shutting the door

“I told you I worked. You seem surprised”

“I am surprised”

“Why? Is a girl not allowed to make money of her own? Is she not allowed to express her sexuality like how men do?”

“You are. I’m just surprised to see someone who seemed so shy to even look at a man working in a place where her job is to have sex with them” you turn red at his words. “How long have you worked here?”

“About 3 years” you look away from him as he nods and sits on the bed. “So John...?”

“He payed me. But don’t tell him I told you. Shit. Why are you here?”

“Although John is going back tomorrow and his mother is also leaving today they said that we could stay in their house for a week. Have a family week away”

“So you’re here because?”

“Because it is difficult to find a woman out here, if you must know” you chuckle slightly

“You’re right. I can go get you one of our lovely ladies if you’d like?”

“I umm, I’d quite like to just stay in here and talk to you. If you’d be ok with that?” you nod slightly and go and sit next to him on the bed.

“I can’t be long here. I promised my friend I’d be back home soon. I said I’m only coming here so that they know I’m ok” he nods and looks at you

“Why don’t we go back now?”

“What?”

“I want to chat. You want to go home. I might as well come with you, right?”

“I’m flattered but I don’t know if my house is up to your kind of requirement” he shrugs and stands up, holding his hands out to you

“I don’t care. I want to see where you live” you nod and let him help you up. You excuse yourself and quickly get dressed into your normal clothes and then join him again. You both walk about a mile to your house. Once there you look at him, trying to judge his expression on his face as he sees your small house.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

#benedict brigderton #benedict bridgerton smut #smut #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader smut #angst #fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #bridgerton smut #bridgerton fluff #benedict smut #benedict fluff #benedict angst

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lorei-writes · 7 months

Note

Congrats again Lorei! 🐥🐥

If prompt 4 for Leon interests you, I hope you'll give it a shot (I'm interested to find out what it would entail 👀)

Aye, thank you! <3

We've talked about it before, so well... This work features an OC of mine. I suppose it really did end up being interesting in all sorts of ways >:)

»All the things we choose to share«

Leon x OC (OC Chart: Viva) ~550 words Content Warnings: none

Silent Rhythm

Light dims, flames perched on the chandelier trembling to then curl into themselves. Vibrant lords and ornate ladies huddle over the ballroom floor, half-submerged in gossip shallows. They puff out their chests, embroidered silks of their suits and gowns their plumage, golden rings taking the place of talons. Eyes cast towards the entrance, they wait. The door opens.

Mea culpa.

A woman steps forward, dressed in just a plain linen dress. Rags intruding on riches, blonde curls fall over her shoulders, disorderly and unbridled like the freckles marking her face. The guests frown and scowls twist knightly faces, handsomeness souring at this dishonour. Irrelevant; proud like a starved lioness, Viva marches into the hall that does not welcome her. Candle flames spin themselves into a thread. At a flick of her wrist it becomes a gown, ephemeral gold softly enveloping her limbs, a tiara crowning her mane. Noblemen and noblewomen fade away one by one as she treads onwards, indifferent towards the marbles, the feast, velvets, foreign fashion, noxious remarks or nebulous complaints. The heels of her shoes plink like glass. Swarms of spurred whispers buzz.

Have you not had enough? How much more can you take from us?

The cage of rumours falls. All turns to black – black like his hair, like the soil that had once been his bed. It is just him, just them. Leon offers her his hand, the amber of his eyes shimmering like gold when exposed to her flames. Viva accepts his invitation. She burns, her touch the scalding guilt brought by that single coin. Callouses to callouses, they are joint. Leon opens his mouth, but her chest presses against his, her breath silently caressing the shell of his ear.

We are both fakes, little slave boy. So keep your mouth shut, hm?

Of course; Leon places his hand on the small of her back. Her laughter is the sound of a collapsing sun, the ballroom replacing the void. Viva leaps to the left, and he follows as if in her palm, as docile as a circus lion when in presence of her hurt. He grasps at her fingers, brings her closer still. Almost as one, they move. She leads. He leads.

Whatever happens, I will not proclaim you the king.

From fire to ashes, Viva withers, her cursed gown dimming with each swirl of her skirts. Her feet seem heavy or weighted down, each step more of a stomp, ungracefully bound to the floor. She struggles, but for what? Her movements lose their power, thundering roaring inside her chest being replaced by hollow quiet. The fire has cooled, so Viva withdraws, a smile of a penitent on her lips. Her heel breaks for her due fall to begin.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.

…

Who said I would let you go?

Leon catches her hand. He chases what is left of her, breathes new life into fading smoke, raising winds just one step short of tearing her apart. Glass shoes shatter as he forces her to discard them. Shame vaporises, guilt lies forgotten, penance, sins, retribution and revenge – all is irrelevant as they dance, freed of any prior inhibitions. Warmth blazes anew. Leon holds onto Viva, so very alive and living, his phoenix reborn. She clutches back at him, perhaps understanding that he too has been resurrected once.

Nobody. Nobody did.

You've seen a typo? Let me know!

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#leon dompteur #ikepri leon #ikemen prince leon #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series

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saliyahdomera · 1 year

Text

House of Horrors -S.S

in which you’re betrothed to Ominis but Sebastian has other plans that lead to a night of horrors in the Gaunt Manor

AGED UP TO 18 (in this AU, they get married at 20 instead)

Warning: cussing, some sexual content but not full blown smut, inaccurate social standings and customs and such blah blah, made up Gaunt family members, made up Gaunt names, sorry not sorry, some violence and gore

This horrible and I am so so so sorry. It’s a good plot in my opinion but man I do not know how to write. I apologize in advance. I promise Im a good writer, this one just did not turn out for me but I wanted to post it anyways….

lmk if i missed anything!!

MINOR DNI!! 18+ HIGHLY ADVISED

I heard murmuring downstairs as I exited my room. Descending the stairs, there stood the Gaunt’s. Being bethrothed to the youngest son, Ominis since I was born meant a lot of things. It meant always being seen with him in the social eye, being his eyes when Sebastian couldn’t, and even living with his family.

When my parents died, the Gaunt’s took me in to keep up their end of the deal in light of everything. My family’s fortune was in my hands now, and when Ominis and I get married in two years, our families will combine and so will our riches.

I wasn’t the only one who lived with them. Sebastian Sallow, Ominis’ best friend and his Lord-In-Waiting. Sebastian was always right behind Ominis, being his eyes and making sure he was always taken care of. They were quite inseparable and I’ve grown quite fond of both of them.

“Good morning dear, I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you my Lord.” I bowed before Damocles Gaunt, the head of the household and Ominis’ father.

“You do not have to be so formal. Please dear.” He smiled as I muttered a small ‘sorry’ his way. It felt improper not to address him as such.

Everyone was gathered around the table as I sat next to Ominis. “Y/N!” His eldest sister, Catherine, spoke up. “Della and I were going to go pick up our dresses for the ball next week. Would you like to accompany us?”

Ominis had a large family. Being the youngest of seven kids was never easy for him. He was the last to do everything, right now that being married.

The eldest is Catherine, at 28. She has been married to Silas Huntington for 8 years now and has 2 children. Ida, 6 and Lyla, 3.

Next would be the eldest brother, Otto at 26. Him and his wife, Cornelia O’Hara, have been together for 6 years. They have one daughter, Fawn who just turned 2.

Francis is the second eldest brother, at 24. Him and his wife, Charlotte Roûge have been together for 4 years and have twins, Rita and Etta , both just turned 2.

Della is the designated middle child at 21. Her and her husband, Warren Carnell just announced they were pregnant, which is why all the siblings are in town.

The twins, Victor and Genevieve, beat Ominis by 2 years. They are both freshly married to Josephine Beckham and Benjamin Allard.

Ominis is the youngest, at 18. He’s been bethrothed since birth like the rest of his siblings. The only differences between their marriages and his are that his future wife needs to be able to guide him due to his blindness, and so far, no male heirs have been born. Unless his sister Della has a son, it’s up to him to bore an heir to the Gaunt lineage.

Having a child scared him though, he was afraid it was inherit his blindness and suffer as he does.

I looked to Catherine and nodded, “I would love to. I don’t think I have anything to wear.” She reached for my hands and smiled.

“Oh I’m so glad to hear that. I was hoping you didn’t. I sort of had one made for you.”

—

Catherine led me into the back of the shop to the fitting rooms where my dress she had made was waiting for me. She was giddy along with Della, who had come in to make some alterations around her newly popped belly. “Go on! I’ll go get into mine too.”

She ran off as I stepped behind the curtain. In front of me stood the most breathtaking dress. A long dark green velvet gown with a square necklace and long sleeves. The breast line was dropped and the skirt was lined with a beautiful pattern made of gold lace. I took it off the hanger as a woman came in to help me get into it.

Once it was on, I couldn’t move. It fit perfectly. It was a slimmer fit, but not scandalous. I ran my fingers over the fabric, feeling every little detail to take note.

Everytime I got a dress, I had to memorize it with my fingers so I could describe it to Ominis. It was always disappointing getting all beautiful just for him not to be able to see it. Memorizing the feeling made it easier, that way he could at least get a picture in his head.

Stepping out, Catherine was stood there waiting for me, Della at her side.

Catherine’s dress was a traditional high breast line dress with shorter cap sleeves. It was a beautiful baby blue, her husband’s family color. It had slight navy detailing throughout with a gold waistband.

Della’s was a mix. Longer sleeves graced her arms while a higher breast line was sewn in to adapt to her growing belly. It was a beautiful blush with gold detailing throughout.

“Wow.” Catherine walked up to me, looking me over and spinning me around. “You look spectacular!”

“You picked wonderfully Catherine.” She held my hands there for a moment before Della came over as well.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful bride for Ominis. You make him so happy, it’s refreshing to see him smile.” Della tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as she spoke. “Thank you.”

“She’s right, I’m overjoyed you were chosen to marry our sweet baby brother.” Catherine chimed in before we went to change.

While the shopkeeper’s assistant was helping me get out of my dress, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I did care for Ominis but, I wasn’t as loyal and doting as his family made me out to be. Marrying into a darker family such as the Gaunt’s was hard on me. While it may seem they are all caring and sweet to me, it doesn’t mean I don’t see what goes on behind the scenes.

I took solice where I could, and that was in the arms of Ominis’ Lord In Waiting, Sebastian Sallow.

Late nights wrapped in his arms, his hands combing through my hair while he listens to my worries. He gives me peace when things get dark at the manor. Sebastian is always there when I need him to be.

It was an innocent friendship, until it wasn’t.

Late one night, I was in Sebastian’s quarters talking to him about the latest developments in the Gaunt family that had me frazzled. “I just don’t understand Sebastian. I wish Ominis was spared from all of this. I wish the whole family would quit, it’s worrisome.”

He sighed, “I know, I’ve been living with them since birth. Lady Gaunt’s old lady in waiting was my mother. When she died in child birth, they raised me to be Ominis’ right hand man.” He cleared his throat as I looked up to listen to him. “It’s hard watching them partake in such devious affairs, but it’s our duty to be silent and show up when called.” The way he was looking at me made me stomach flutter. “You know better than me how hard this is. As much as Ominis may love you, to the rest of his family, you’re just a baby maker, the heir carrier. You are only here for Ominis to use you for his own heir making desires.” His tone darkened as he spoke.

“Sebastian I know my-“ Before I could finish, his lips were on mine. It was heveanly. I knew how wrong it was, and if anyone found out I’d be ruined and the Gaunt’s would probably kill us both. I was supposed to be saved for Ominis, but Sebastian’s lips on mine was too enticing to pull away. His hands wrapped around me as he pulled me closer to him, my hand quickly tangling in his hair.

He pulled away quickly, shock and regret lacing his features. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened. I can’t believe I just did that to you-“

“Shut up and do it again.” I pulled at his collar as his lips were on mine again. I couldn’t get enough once I got a taste.

This had been going on for a couple of months, and it’s escalated over time. It went from innocent kissing to intimate pleasure. The guilt weighed heavily on me, but 90% of the time, Sebastian and I were the only ones in the manor. The Gaunt’s were never home, or at least not all of them at once. They were always off making deals or killing or sacrificing. They were always involved in dark wizard schemes, leaving Sebastian and I alone in the manor.

He had ruined me, we both knew that. My pureness was taken from me, my innocence gone. We both knew how wrong it was, and how much Ominis would be hurt if he ever found out, but we were addicted to each other. I felt even more guilty because I had caught feelings. He saw me as a human being and not just someone to produce an heir to the Gaunt fortune. I wasn’t just a baby maker to him, he saw my personality and got to know me.

The guilt hit me hard in the dressing room hearing Ominis’ sisters speak that way. I knew deep down I had to end things and come clean, but I wasn’t ready to face the consequences.

But I was afraid I already had.

Over the last week or two, I had noticed some odd signs indicating something wrong with my health. I was afraid I had caught a disease. I know my older sister warned me of diseases caught from these activities and the signs. If a man was unclean, or things were too frequent, I could catch something.

It worried me, and I was afraid someone else would see the signs and out two and two together.

—

Back at the manor, we were all eating dinner when Lord Gaunt stood up, lifting his cup. “I just want to say that not only am I so glad to have all of my children in my home again, but to the new additions coming soon. Another grand baby, hopefully an heir and a new wife, to bring us heirs.” He raised his glass as everyone drank to the toast. I looked to Sebastian, and I realized he was right. I am nothing more than my womb.

And now I’m afraid I’ve caught something that may inhibit my ability to bare children.

—

The day before the ball, I decided to secretly sneak to go see the house doctor, without anyone’s knowledge.

“What brings you here? You’re not in for a yearly check in for a couple of months? Are you sick?”

“I think so. I don’t know how I got it, but I’ve not been feeling right.”

“What signs are you having?” I spoke to him about my worries and concerns before he said he should do a wellness check. He sat me down and angled me so he could take a look to make sure I was healthy for my bethrothed.

“I’m just going to make sure everything is healthy down here. If you have a problem and cannot bare children, we will need to take immediate action.” I grimaced as he started the examination.

“Oh.” His tone had me worried.

“What? Do I have something?” My breathing was speeding up.

“Ma’am,” he made me decent and sat me up. “Pardon me for asking, but have you and Ominis…?”

“No!! We have not! Why do you ask?”

He took a deep breath, ask if he was searching for the words. “Don’t lie to me please. Have you let any man-“

“No! How dare you assume! What’s wrong with me? Please just tell me!”

“You are with child.” I sat there in shock. I was always close with Doctor Keizer, but there’s no way I could go this far into my personal life. I knew I could always go to him when I had issues, especially before Sebastian and I grew close. “Now, Y/N. Will you please tell me what happened? You know what you say in here stays in here. Who’s is it?”

I couldn’t believe it. How would I pull this off? People will begin to notice my symptoms. Ominis will surely know what I had done. “Please Y/N, we need to figure this out so I can help you.”

“Sebastian Sallow, the Lord-In-Waiting to Ominis.” Doctor Keizer cleared his throat.

“Oh dear.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, you have options. I won’t make you decide anything this moment, but I suggest you take a few days to weigh the risks and benefits. Please come see me when you know. And please trust, this doesn’t leave my office. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” He gave me shoulder a pat before sending me on my way.

What was I going to do?

—

(Sebastian)

It was the night of the ball, and I was fortunate enough to be invited to each one of these every year. Since I was Ominis’ eyes in public, I was automatically assigned to accompany him to every ball.

Ominis was very self sufficient, a wonderful dancer and usually good at finding his way around but he knew I loved going to these.

Ominis thinks it’s because I like the social aspect, or dressing up. I really enjoy going because Y/N always looks so breathtaking. I know it’s wrong, but how could I not love her? She’s so beautiful and she has such a kind heart. Her laugh lights up the room and her smile makes my heart stutter. She is so intelligent and has such an incredible personality.

She takes my breath away everytime she speaks.

I know I should tell my best friend that I’m bedding his future wife, but I can’t give her up yet. She’s addicting, every touch, every taste. I crave her presence, her kiss. I can’t live without her.

“Are you ready?” Ominis knocked on my door as he entered. I straightened my jacket before replying with a ‘yes’.

The ride there was silent. Something was on Ominis’ mind and I knew not to poke and prod.

The ball was beautiful, the Black family always throw the biggest ball of the year, and somehow it’s always better than the year before. I stood with Ominis, his father and the rest of Ominis’ brothers and brother in laws. The women of the family always rode seperately, as to make a special entrance. The crowd was silenced not long after the men had arrived as the servant at the door announced the women.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I now introduce Lady Amelia Gaunt, her daughters Lady Catherine Huntington, Lady Della Carnell-“ He went on to list the many women who were apart of the Gaunt family. I only cared about the last name. Y/N’s name was always last, and Iloved seeing her enter every time. “And finally, Duchess Y/N L/N, bethrothed to Ominis Gaunt.” The crowd bowed to them as the descended the stairs and towards the men. All the wives took their husband’s to dance. Lord and Lady Gaunt never really danced, they preferred to watch their children dance.

I watched intently as Y/N walked up to Ominis as he escorted her to the dance floor. It was intrigued me how she taught him to dance with her without sight. I would always notice a little tap or squeeze to signal him what to do. They had a secret language only the two of them understood, but it made for beautiful dances between them. Over the years I caught on to a few of the signals, but each one is so unique that it was rare.

I looked around at everyone dancing, disappointed that I will never have a chance to go find a wife. My position doesn’t allow for that, especially since my mother disobeyed that rule when she had me. “Why don’t you go dance with someone? I’m sure one of my daughters would love to dance with you!” Lady Gaunt grabbed my arm and smiled down at me.

“It’s okay, I would feel horrible taking them from their husbands. I prefer to sit back and watch.” She nodded and resumed watching. Little did she know I did want to dance, but only with one girl out there. I watched as they danced song after song. After awhile as everyone bowed to their partners, Ominis and Y/N returned as she whispered something to him and he smiled. I heard Ominis reply ‘why not?’ before letting her go to stand next to his mother.

That’s when time slowed down. Y/N walked up to me and held her hand out. “May I have this dance Mr. Sallow?” She smiled and I thought I was going to faint. I looked to Ominis before he spoke up, not even turning my way.

“Go Sebastian. Have some fun.” I took her hand as I led her out to the floor. We danced and I held her close. This was a dream come true. She looked stunning tonight in the dark green velvet gown. Her hair was tied back and she wore beautiful family jewels around her neck and on her head.

“You okay? You look dazed.” She laughed at me as I returned to the moment.

“Very much so.” I watched her lips curl up in a smile before it fell. “Are you?”

“Yes, just very bored of these events. It’s always the same.” I laughed at her.

“Well at least tonight I actually got out and danced. This is the first time I’ve done this.”

She stared at me with surprise. “For someone who’s never danced, you’re very good at this.”

“Don’t flatter me. The Gaunt’s still trained me, I just never got out like this in the social eye. Especially with my best friend’s bethrothed-“ I stopped talking as I saw her face drop in what seemed to be horror before quickly snapping back to a pleased expression.

As I spun her I looked to see what she was looking at, I saw someone speaking to Lord Gaunt as he was staring Y/N down. Something was wrong and now I was worried. I couldn’t let her out of my sight. As I caught another glance, I saw him point me out as well, it seems something is very wrong. I was worried for both of our safety now.

The dance ended as she bowed but she shot me a look that let me know she knew she was in trouble. She walked to Ominis while I was frozen. I slowly exited the dance floor to get a refreshment when Lord Gaunt appeared behind me. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to, what you say about my family.” Before I could turn around to respond, he was gone, and so was Y/N.

This was not good.

The night continued on, and none of the other family members seemed to know where they had disappeared to.

As time dragged on, I felt like we were never going to leave until Ominis answered my prayers. “Can you escort me out? We are heading back to the mansion. My mother said there’s some business I need to attend to.”

“Is everyone coming?”

“No, just us three.”

My stomach was spinning in the carriage the whole way back to the manor. Something didn’t feel right and I think Ominis knew too. He was quieter than usual and although he may not know what was wrong, he knew something was off. With his other senses heightened, he was very keen on picking little disturbances up quickly.

Arriving to the manor, it felt eerie. It didn’t feel like my home anymore, it felt like a trap, a prison.

Ominis hesitated before following his mother in, leaving me to be the last to walk in.

I never expected to see what was before me in the grand entrance. While Lady Gaunt and Ominis walked up the stairs to their respective chambers, before me stood Lord Gaunt, Y/N tied with her hands behind her sat beside him. She was tied to the chair and obviously she had been tortured. Her hair was a mess and there were marks and blood covering her body. She was left in nothing but her corset and pants. She was struggling to breathe and her eyes were puffy with tears. I looked up quickly to notice Ominis standing above us on the grand staircase out of his father’s eyeline. While he could not see, by his facial expression Ominis knew exactly what was happening.

“Sebastian. Welcome back, I hope you had fun at the ball.”

“What is going on?”

He smirked as he drew his wand out of his sleeve. “I know what you’ve been saying about my family. How you don’t care for our ways of business, or how you don’t support the ways of dark wizards. You don’t believe in killing what you claim to be ‘innocents’.”

“What are you talking about?!” I took a step forward before he spoke up again, his tone harsh now.

“I don’t care who dies, but since you do, indulge me and I might just spare the mother of your unborn child.” His wand flew to her throat, making her cry out in pain from it digging into the skin of her neck.

My eyes flew open wide, she was with child? “What?”

“Don’t play stupid boy. I know what you did to her, going behind Ominis’ back. You took her for yourself and she went willingly. You’re lucky I don’t kill you right now for what you’ve done to this family.”

“I had no idea. She never told me! I am so sorry, I wish I had known.”

“Do you want to know what you can do to atone for the sins you’ve committed?”

I didn’t say anything, instead I couldn’t help but stare at her, she was carrying my child, and I did not even know and now she’s suffering because of me. “Kneel.”

“What?”

“You heard me Sallow, get on your knees. Pledge your allegiance to me and I might just spare her. He dug his wand deeper into her neck, making her cry out again. “GET ON YOUR KNEES!”

His voiced boomed and echoed throughout the mansion. I looked to her then to Ominis. He shook his head as if he knew I was watching. “Kneel boy!” Y/N cried out in pain again which mad me drop to one knee. “That’s a good boy.” I heard him walk towards me and take the point of his wand to lift my head up by my chin to look up at him. “Now do you care to tell me why you decided to go and rip the innocence from my son’s bethrothed?” In the corner of my eye, I saw Ominis untie Y/N and rush her upstairs.

“I love her sir.”

—

(you)

“I love her sir.” I stopped in my tracks as Ominis tried to pull me to safety. I slowly turned to see the wreckage I have caused. Sebastian met my eyes as Ominis pulled on my arm again.

“We have to go now!” He pulled harder as I followed him, having to tear my eyes away from Sebastian. I heard yelling from his father and Sebastian soft, saddened voice. I couldn’t make out what they were saying as Ominis and I reached the top of the staircase, the full view in front of us. I looked to see Sebastian kneeled, Lord Gaunt across the room from him. I saw Sebastian say something before looking down. Time slowed as I rushed to the railing as Lord Gaunt raised his arm and yelled.

“Avada Kedavra!!”

I gripped the railing with one hand as I watched the horror unfold before me. My right hand reached out as I leaned over the railing, a blood curdling scream leaving my throat. “Sebastian!! No!!” I felt like I was going to collapse when Ominis grabbed me and ripped me away from the scene that just unfolded.

“We have to go!” As I let Ominis lead me away, I couldn’t rip my eyes away from Sebastian’s lifeless body. I felt numb. The man I loved was dead, and it was all my fault. I watched as he slowly disappeared from my sight as Ominis kept leading me somewhere. My feet were moving but there was no noise, I was not there. I was with Sebastian’s body, mourning him as he lay cold on the floor.

I did not see my surroundings or where Ominis had finally stopped us, I didn’t even realize I had gotten into a carriage. I was stuck with the image of Sebastian’s final breathe burned on the back of my eyelids.

I will never forget the burning of my vocal chords as I screamed for him.

The flashing of green is engraved into the back of my brain.

Ominis’ voice was faint, the words mumbled and incoherent. All I could hear was Sebastian’s words “I love her sir.” He loved me and it was that love that caused him to die.

A piece of me died with him that day.

A piece of me will forever reside in the grand entrance of that manor.

A piece of me will be left with Sebastian’s body whether he’s buried or burned.

But yet a piece of Sebastian lived on in me.

“Y/N? Please react. Let me know you’re there somewhere.”

“Ominis…”

“I know.” He reached out to find my head before leaning it on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around me, rubbing my back and combing my hair down. “I know…” His voice while calm, was broken.

And I think a piece of him died that day as well.

#sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x you #ominis gaunt #ominis x y/n #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #ominis x sebastian #sebastian x mc

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linearao3 · 1 year

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(Companion piece to the fic chapter I just published)

So I mentioned before that for the dresses in Serves You Right and Served Me Well, I tend to take inspiration from art and historical costumes of the 1880s, by which I mean that I swipe stuff and add details I think are fun. I totally stole Inej's black opera-going dress from Madame X, as noted.

Madame X (Madame Pierre Gautreau), John Singer Sargent, 1883-4. (Gown from Maison Félix).

I changed the shoulder straps a little and added some blood-spatter beading, but basically, yeah, that's the dress.

(The main thing I change, in all these dresses, is that most fancy dresses from this period (a) required a bustle, and (b) had trains. I don't know that the management of either would be intuitive to Inej, so I just sort of... erase them.)

Another straight theft: the blue dress of Marya's Kaz has altered for Inej to wear on the first visit to court. You may note (though it's a little hard to tell in digital copy especially) that the woman in the portrait has red hair.

Portrait of Madame Paul Escudier (Louise Lefevre), John Singer Sargent, 1882.

As for what Marya actually wears herself, I imagine most days it's something like this:

Portrait of Mrs. Eleanor Chapman, John Singer Sargent, 1881.

Like you can see a visual kinship to the big lace collars you get in Dutch Masters' paintings, but it's more 19th Century.

The Grand Duchess Durnova's purple dress is sort of a mash-up, as most of the other dresses are:

Coronation Portrait of Tzarina Maria Feodorovna, Vladimir Makovsky, 1885.

Maria Grigorievna Rayevskaya, artist and date unknown.

Inej's blood-orange velvet dress from Serves You Right has a lot of invented details, but the basic shape comes from another dress in a Sargent portrait:

Portrait of Mrs. Charles E. Inches (Louise Pomeroy), John Singer Sargent, 1887

The dress itself, which was altered for a second wearer.

Obviously, I snipped off the arm ribbons and moved them to the gold dress, which is largely inspired by this bodice, designed by famous French design establishment, Maison Worth/House of Worth:

House of Worth, 1890s, seen on the Fripperies and Fobs blog

I love the split bodice, which has various suggestive readings (which, trust me, I will get to). I admit I don't really love the sleeves, though (they loved a goofy sleeve in the 1890s), and the color seemed a little lackluster. Hence: gold watered silk, aka moiré. Moiré is notoriously hard to photograph, since it shifts with the light. But this is a contemporary garment (from Saudi boutique Aetelier Heyakat) which shows off the effect pretty well by having long, uninterrupted lines.

For the Grand Duchess's gold dress, I was thinking more of something yellower, like this:

Attributed to Liberty & Co. of London, 1880s.

Anyway, there will probably be more dresses so I will try to make another post if there's anything cool to show.

#served me well #apologies to J.S. Sargent & co.

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queenmarytudor · 2 months

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Mary I's Fight For The Throne

3rd August - Mary triumphantly enters London

Mary arrives at Whitechapel around 6pm, and after a brief stop to change clothes, proceeds to pass through the city "accompanied with gentlemen, squires, knights, and lords, with a great number of strangers all in velvet coats riding before her, with all the King's trumpeters, heralds, and sergeants at arms." 1

This includes the Imperial ambassadors, who confirm "the Venetian ambassador was there too; but not the ambassador of the King of France." 2

The new queen wears a "gown of purple velvet French fashion, with sleeves of the same, her kirtle purple satin all thick set with goldsmiths work and great pearls, with her foresleeves of the same set with rich stones, with a rich bowdricke of gold, pearls, and stones about her neck, and a riche billement of stones and great pearls on her hood, her palfrey that she rode on richly trapped with gold embroidered to the horse feet, and another rich trapped palfrey led after her highness by Sir [Edward] Hastings, master of the horse." 3

The Imperial ambassadors believe "Her look, her manner, her gestures, her countenance were such that in no event could they have been improved.[...] her face is more than middling-fair." 4

She enters London at Aldgate, which is "richly hanged with arras and set with streamers." 5 She meets the Lord Mayor and Recorder here, who salute her highness. The Recorder says:

"Pleaseth your highness, my Lord Mayor, here present, in the name of his brethren and all the commons of this your highness city and chamber of London, most humbly beseecheth your highness to be good and gracious Sovereign to these commons of this your city like as your highnesses noble progenitors aforetime have been, and, according to their bounden duty at your highnesses coming, my Lord Mayor presenteth here your highness with the sceptre pertaining to the office, in token of loyalty and homage, most humbly welcome your highness to this your highnesses city and chamber of London." 6

The Lord Mayor then kisses the sceptre and passes it to Mary, who answers:

"My Lord Mayor, I heartily thank you and all your brethren the aldermen of your gentleness showed unto me, which shall not be forgotten, for I have known you ever to have bene good toward me." 7

Her words are "so gently spoken and with so smiling a countenance that the hearers wept for joy." 8

Mary then proceeds down the street, with the Mayor of London bearing "the mace, and the earl of Arundel bore the sword, and all the trumpets [blew]; and next [after] her my lady Elizabeth. After Elizbeth the duchess of Norfolk, and next [after] her the marquess of Exeter, [and other] ladies, and after [them] the aldermen, and then the guard with bows." 9 The guards wore "green and white, red and white, and blue and green." 10 All these colours were significant liveries in Mary's past - the green and white being the Tudor livery, red and white belonging to Henry VIII and the blue and green being the personal livery Mary herself had her household wear when Princess of Wales.

The streets are "richly hanged with clothes of arras and silk" 11 and "gravelled all the way [...] And all the streets by the way as her highness rode standing so full of people shouting and crying Jesus save her Grace, with weeping tears for joy, that the like was never seen before." 12

Rails have been placed down the streets for the large crowds, where citizens and merchants stand with "streamers and banners of every Company or occupation standing at [the] rails, every Company in their best liveries." 13

Various celebrations have been prepared for her, including a "great stage covered with canvas where all the children of Christ's Hospital sat." 14 There are "about one hundred poor little children [...] all dressed in blue, with red caps upon their heads. They were given to the Queen to nourish and care for them, the eldest not being over twelve or fourteen. One of them addressed a prayer to her Majesty that she might take them under her care." 15

There are four stages in all between Algate and the Tower, where "clerks and musicians stood playing and singing goodly ballads, which rejoiced the queen's highness greatly." 16

In the Tower, there were "terrible and great shots of guns shot within the Tower and all about the Tower wharf that the like hath not been heard, for they never ceased shooting from the time her highness entered in at Algate till she came to Mark Lane end, which was like great thunder, so that it had been like to an earthquake." 17

As well as gunshots, bells "so long disused" 18 are ringing out in celebration across the capital.

The Lord Mayor leaves when Mary reaches the Tower. Inside "The Duke of Norfolk, Doctor Gardner, late bishop of Winchester, and Mr. [Edward] Courtney, prisoners in the Tower, kneeled on the hill within the Tower asking pardon." 19 Anne Seymour, late Duchess of Somerset is also amongst the group who "presented themselves before the Queen to ask for her pardon and their full liberty."20 Mary "gently saluted, bidding them rise up." 21 and "kissed them, and said These are my prisoners." 22. She "replied that they had done nothing for which they should sue for mercy, and she was sorry that they should have suffered and been detained for so long. She gave her full consent to their liberation." 23

Mary has now taken possession of the Tower of London as England's reigning monarch. All that remains is the coronation "which will take place as soon as the necessary preparations can be made." 24

Meanwhile...

On the 8th of August King Edward VI is buried. At his burial there was "a standard with a dragon, and then a great number of his servants in black, and then another standard with a white greyhound, and then after a great number of his officers." The chariot conveying his body was covered with cloth of gold and an effigy of the king with "his sceptre in his hand, lying in his robes, and the garter about his leg, and a coat in embroidery of gold; about the corpse were borne four banners, a banner of the order [of the Garter], another of the red rose, another of queen Jane (Seymour), another of the queen's mother." 25

Sources:

1. Wriothesley's Chronicle

2. Spanish State Papers, 6th August 1553

3. Wriothesley's Chronicle

4. Spanish State Papers, 6th August 1553

5. Wriothesley's Chronicle

6. Wriothesley's Chronicle

7. Wriothesley's Chronicle

8. Wriothesley's Chronicle

9. Diary of Henry Machyn, August 1553

10. Diary of Henry Machyn, August 1553

11. Wriothesley's Chronicle

12. Wriothesley's Chronicle

13. Wriothesley's Chronicle

14. Wriothesley's Chronicle

15. Spanish State Papers, 6th August 1553

16. Wriothesley's Chronicle

17. Wriothesley's Chronicle

18. Spanish State Papers, 6th August 1553

19. Wriothesley's Chronicle

20. Spanish State Papers, 6th August 1553

21. Wriothesley's Chronicle

22. Chronicle of Queen Jane and Queen Mary

23. Spanish State Papers, 6th August 1553

24. Spanish State Papers, 6th August 1553

25. Diary of Henry Machyn, August 1553

#mary i #mary tudor #tudor #history #mary's fight for the throne

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princesspuresarahk · 2 months

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Meg Fanfic

Chapter: 4 Fun time shopping!

There are so many things to do they were showing some new perfume and makeup samples at Meg and Donna got to try and buy a few with Meg trying on these dusty pink lips that went lovely with her pale features and perfumes called Lovely English Rose and Buttercream Spice "Oh it smells so good," Meg sniffed in aww spraying a bit on her wrist enjoying the scented hints of vanilla, cinnamon and Star Ansie, Donna was enjoying one called sweet Autumn mornings smelling like a fresh mist of autumn leaves and cranberries "Ohh Cleveland you are gonna love this when you get back," Meg enjoyed the scent of the perfumes, unlike those cheap perfumes she is used to smelling.

Plus, they are much better than what "perfumes" her family gave her. They smell like grandmothers would wear or extremely cheap ones that smell really bad when you put too much on Meg shakes her head to get rid of the memories of those awful smells.

To distract her mind she caught sight of the new costume shop that had a selection of pretty cool costumes "Hey Donna let's go check out the new costume shop I heard they have cool things in there," pointing to the direction of Madam Masquerade's seasonal costume and props boutique "Ooooo~ That looks nice." Donna chorused. Walking inside they "ooooooohhh!" At the site before them costumes everywhere in beautiful colors and decorated with pretty lace and trim covered with sparkles and beads and little diamonds they were cute jester and clown costumes with beautiful masks that resembled Venetian carnival masks of all different sizes and designs, costume jewelry suits of and gowns oh goodness the gowns were gorgeous, especially with some that had Disney princess themes to it some covered with ribbons and little flowers and sparkles that when trying on can't help but it makes you feel like a princess they're even animal theme costumes and creatures for the Halloween festivities Meg's eyes practically sparkled when she sees the amazing costumes around her. She has never seen many options in one store."Come on let's try some on!" She said cheerfully as she and Donna looked through the racks of dresses picking out they like and heading towards the dressing room to try them on "Alright, Meg." Donna responded as she looked through the racks.

The first dress Meg came out in was a silver-blue Cinderella theme dress filled with puffy ruffles and sparkles Meg looked at herself giving the dress a beautiful twirl "What did you find Donna?" Donna comes out, wearing a winter-style pink Princess Aurora dress that is lined with fur. "This is beautiful~" She beamed. Meg thought so too"It looks amazing on you Donna," she beamed Donna smiled when she heard that. "Thank you, Meg." She replied. next one was a Rapunzel-inspired dress with pretty shades of purple and pink with white lace sleeves and neck the material was soft and velvet with the colors matching Meg blue violet eyes "Ooooo, girl~ You look amazing~" Donna is so impressed on how the dress fits well on Meg. "thank you," she blushed she never knew she could have so much fun shopping with Donna "oh I just remembered we'll be having a costume party this Halloween and this just gave me the perfect idea for the theme Fairy tales and Spooky Tales!" Meg did hear the Browns we're hosting a neighborhood Halloween party this year and a fairy tale-themed party with telling spooky stories does sound fun “Really? That sounds great!” Meg said they continued trying on costumes one costume Donna tried on was a gorgeous Greek-style dress made with different shades of purple and gold trimming Meg’s eyes glimmered when she saw the amazed. “Wow~,” She said in astonishment."That looks beautiful on you Donna you look a queen all you need is a crown to go with it!"The older woman smiled at the compliment; looking in the mirror she could tell this was the one! All she needs now is to find a custom for Cleveland Meg looks at other costumes in the store to see if there’s another one with a great style she finds a snow white inspired dress covered in soft lace and velvet material they were all so beautiful she couldn't decide what she liked most!

Meg is amazed by the design. It looks like it was crafted by hand. She looks at the other costumes. Looking around she came across a display of tiaras that had beautiful designs on them that looked so real it couldn't be like seeing a real crown a princess or a queen could wear one of them was decorated with gold and dark violet diamonds all over, it would be fit for a queen "hey Donna I think I found a crown for your costume," beckoning Donna over as Meg looked over the pretty crowns trying on one with rainbow diamonds decorated with an aquamarine surrounded by pearls and pink rubies on it with its surrounded little diamonds all over it "Oh my!" Donna looks at the tiara in awe. "This will go great!" She beamed. She tries it on while holding her costume against her amazed at the combination "You really look like a queen in this!" And Donna did if she were in a fairy tale Meg could see Donna it's a powerful strong loving Queen in a beautiful land where everyone is happy full of laughter and loved by all "I am so glad that you have found this, Meg!" Donna said.

It wasn't long till Meg picked her dress and chose the pretty rainbow tiara for it that both she and Donna continued their shopping enjoying each other's company it was nearing lunchtime so they decided to head to the food court for a snack and something to drink Donna looks through all of the menus throughout the food court. "What do you want, Meg?" She asked.

Meg looked over "A gooey stuffed baked cheese pretzel sounds good oh and sparkling raspberry water sounds nice too," Donna looked intrigued. "That sounds delicious."

They ordered a nice hot pretzel fresh from the oven stuffed with delicious cheese and fresh sparkling cool water to quench their thirst before finding a table to relax and giving their arms a break from carrying their bags and began to chat with Meg asking something on her mind "hey Donna I hope you don't mind me asking but how did you and Cleveland met you guys seem to love each other so much from what I heard from my family at your wedding you guys were childhood best friends?"

Donna smiles a bit. "Well, it was a lot more than that." Meg raised a brow "Oh how so?" Was there something more to their friendship?

“You will find out one day.” Donna deflected.

So they can continue talking about other things making each other laugh Meg even discusses their having a bowling team together but Donna finds a fun idea so busy talking they don't realize Roberta and Federline Jones are also at the food court until Donna notices them waving them down "hey Roberta hello Federline we didn't expect to see you two here how's your day date going?" She said with Meg waving a hello a couple was also holding some drinks and seemed to having a break as well “Oh hey, Mom. Hey, Meg.” Roberta casually greeted. “It’s been goin’ good.”

Meg smiled seeing the couple share a sweet moment while explaining to daughter about the plans for the theme of the party Roberta let out a squeal in excitement "Finally something we can do together as a couple of Federline come on sweetie we got to go find a couple of costumes see you later Mom bye Meg!," quickly she ran off with Federline arm and arm to go search for the perfect couple costume as her boyfriend yelled out "woah Roberta baby slow down I'm still carrying all your things I'm gonna spill my boba tea!" Causing Meg and Donna to giggle watching them leave.

The younger woman starts to wonder if she would have a partner as well. However, it feels like wishful thinking at this point. It was something she made peace about a while back and for now, it was okay to be alone she got to have a new friend who cares and makes her happy as Meg looks at other stores that she and Donna could go to.

Later after going too many stores and exploring amazing stuff it was nearing late afternoon so the two decided to call it a day heading back to the car and driving off home both were a bit tired from walking around the mall all day.

Meg yawns a bit as she starts to shake off the tiredness.

"you alright Meg?" Donna asked noticing Meg's sleepy eyes

"Yeah. Just a bit tired." she yawned.

Donna nearly let out a yawn herself the long day and cold weather were making her tired too "Hey how bout after we get home we grab our PJs and have a movie night sound fun?" Meg smiles at Donna's plan. "I would like that." She grinned.

Once they arrived home Meg quickly rushed back to the house with her things heading to the back of the house for the extra, extra secret key that her Lois, Chris, and herself knew about due to Peter constantly losing it from his stupidity or drunken shenanigans so they placed one by the rose bushes hidden under a rock. Carefully to avoid the thorns Meg gently lifted the rock scooping the key before opening the door and letting herself in

The house was very quiet and peaceful and she walked in feeling so different when her family is around not so much chaos from Peter and emotional stress from Lois with mischief from her brothers and Brain lounging about with a drink in his hand remembering the time when he was The voice of reason for this family helping it keep under control. Again shaking those thoughts away Meg made her way upstairs to put her stuff away keeping it hidden in inner special spots out of her family's eyes and hands before stripping out of all her clothes and rushing to the bathroom for a quick hot shower not wanting to keep Donna waiting after a quick rinse off smelling like vanilla and roses dressed in some fresh underwear and dressing in a dusty pink night dress with guipure lace panel puff sleeves material being stretchy and soft perfect comfort for a chilly night.

Putting on her bedroom slippers she grabbed a blanket for comfort he made her way down the stairs heading out the back again closing the door and putting back the key into its hiding place by then the wind had started to pick up getting chillier as sprinkles of rain hitting Meg's face "Burrr... Oh it's so cold so cold I better hurry," she shivered hugging her blanket tightly she made her way across the street towards the Browns residence Donna opening the door just in time to let her in Meg let out another shiver from the cold her cheeks rosier and pinker from the chill from the Northern wind “Ohhh! So chilly out there.” Donna shivered. “Quickly come in before you catch a cold.” as a heavy breeze blew against Meg

"Oooh!" Meg gasped as she rushed inside from the cold evening air the sprinkling soon became heavy and a clap of thunder echoed 'ka-boom!' in the dark sky "I hope you brought an appetite since it's just us tonight I thought to order us some Pizza as a treat,"

"Oh that sounds wonderful," Meg smiled as she and Donna got comfortable on the couch's warm blankets looking for a show to watch.

Meg looks at the endless options, unsure which to pick. It was then she came across the Studio Ghibli selection

She heard of Kiki's delivery service and My Neighbor Totoro but never got a chance to watch them “Let’s see that, Donna”, Mega suggested to her older woman "Oh Roberta and Rallo up this one is a sweet and adorable movie," Donna commented on the good choice as they both snuggled up on the couch as the song Stroll began playing

🎶Hey, let's go! Hey, let's go!

I'm happy as can be

Let's go walking, you and me

Ready, set, come on, let's go!

Over the hill, across the field

Through the tunnel we'll go

We'll run across the bridge

And down the bumpy gravel road

Creep beneath the spider's web

Ready, set, let's go! 🎶

Meg smiles as she listens to the theme, feeling a sense of peace. They laughed and were awed at the cute scene and cried at the emotional scenes by the middle of the movie when the girls were meeting Totoro by the bus station their pizza arrives "Here you go ladies on large pepperoni and two sodas it's $7.34 oh also we liked to give you free cheesy bread our last customer wasn't changed their mind last minute so we give them to next customer free on the house," he said with a kind smile both Donna and Meg touched by the sweetness of delivery man "why thank you young man that is very sweet of you here's the money and a tip be safe out there," she thanked giving the man the payment for the pizza and $20 tip making the man's smile brighten "wow thank you have a good night and be blessed," he said before walking back to his car silently giving a cheer to himself for the good tip he received!

Meg waved to the delivery man as he left. She admits that he does look a bit cute. Thankfully the cold hitting her face hid her light blush and made her way back inside they settled down back on the couch to continue their movie and Meg secretly admitted she really did love this time with Donna rather than her family.

They continue the night watching movies together from Pirates of the Caribbean to a spooky movie The Wolfman after getting a little too spooked by the movie when it is over watch another Sweet Ghibli movie Howl's Moving Castle both Meg and Donna find very sweet and romantic they were getting to the part where Sophie reunites with Howl again Roberta came home on time "hey Mom I'm home I'll see you later Federline," she called out giving her boyfriend a blow kiss goodbye before closing the door with her things "Welcome back, Roberta. How was your date?" Donna quizzed her.

"It was great Mom, Federline and I had a good time," she replied shrugging off her coat and letting out a shiver from the cold "I'm going to go ahead upstairs for a hot shower and head to bed I'm bushed I'll see you later," she waved off as Donna and Meg resumed their movie and wishing Roberta good night.

The movie is looking so good, especially with the animation. Meg tends to think what if she lives like that? Living in a beautiful peaceful place filled with wildflowers animals and interesting towns and cities that may have a few witches, goblins and magic but hey it would be an amazing Paradise it feels so relaxing and beautiful to be in. An amazing fantasy to live in.

Later the film came to its ending as Howl and Sophie flew off in their flying home happily in love Meg unknowingly fell asleep on the couch with a sweet smile on her lip full of sweet dreams of magical lands and adventure.

Donna looks at her before putting a blanket over her, smiling at how comfortable and peaceful Meg looks.

The next morning.

Meg awoke after having the most peaceful sleep she had in a long time, the peaking out of the window showed a soft glow and as she looked down saw that she was tucked in a big soft fluffy pink blanket. Looking around she realized she was still at the Brown's house she must've fallen asleep last night and where's Donna?

"Meg~! Get ready for breakfast~!" She heard Donna from the kitchen.

(Oh she must be up already,) Meg thought as she slowly got up stretching giving her back a satisfying 'POP'!

Making her way to what she believed was the kitchen with the smell of fresh coffee in the air and the smell of something good cooking.

"Good morning Donna," Meg greeted with a sleepy smile as Donna was pouring some coffee into a cup with one already in the other being her own "Good morning Meg did you sleep well?" She replied handing Meg her cup who added some cream and a little bit of sugar in hers.

"Yes, I did, Donna. And you?" Meg asked her.

"had a very good sleep though it did feel slightly empty without Cleveland I swear that man is like a big warm teddy bear hahaha," she giggled remembering how they would cuddle up together on cold nights like last night she hoped her husband and the boys are doing ok out there on their trip "anyway I hope you like porridge it's still chilly outside and thought something nice warm and hot can warm us up with our coffee," presenting a tray with two bowls full of hot steaming porridge with milk and cream to pour in with fresh honey and side of berries and nuts to add as toppings.

"Oh my, Donna. These look amazing to eat" Meg praised.

They sat down together enjoying the morning like the day before full of happy smiles and joy of the new family friendship.

"And if you need someone to talk to or anything or some kind of trouble or help you are always welcome to come stay here if you need to Meg," Donna commented during the dishes Meg happily helped out after talking about if Meg ever has trouble with her 'family' she'll be welcome at the Brown in case there's trouble. "That... is great to know, Donna. I am glad to hear that." Meg beamed. It feels refreshing that there is at least one person she can count on.'

what happens next in Chapter: 5 Lets go for a drive! a phone call from Lois? credit to the beautiful Taffy aka www.tumblr.com/queenofcandynso… for being part of this fanfic : )

#meg griffin #meg griffin fanfic

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an-abyss-of-stars · 1 year

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He Saw Her At Daybreak - Part 4

Summary: Even perfect weddings have their bitter endings…

Warnings: SMUTTTT SMUTTY SMUT! Also violence and blood near the end!

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemiandreams99 , @neocil , @nettysnest , @avidreader73 , @jordanjanellejoy , @azaleapotterblack , @yourlittlehoe , @partypoison00 , (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

P.S. CRYINGGGG I'M BACKKKK!!

PLEASE I'M SO SORRY IT'S BEEN AGESSS!!

I don't what's been going on with me lately, like I have all these ideas ready to GO! But I just can't seem to really focus and work on them? Like the will and energy to WRITE them has been absent. SO it's got me delivering these chapters super slowly right now. I'm hoping my motivation picks up, because I'd really love to move this fic along a whole lot faster!

Anywaysss LONG AWAITED, here it is! I've been labouring over this one for like a month! I hope it's good! It's a WILD one!

When the golden hour finally fell upon Dragonstone, it broke through the whirling thick storm clouds that currently cascaded the skies. It burned deep orange rays down through the shattered cracks in the sky and here on the Dragon Mound the rays shone brightly. Off in the distance the spotty rays looked hazy and heavenly, as if the Gods were truly bearing witness to this union. For once more, two dragons would vow their lives to one another, bond themselves through fire and blood till the end of their days.

And that's how Aemond stood, dressed in the traditional pale ivory robes of his Valyrian ancestors, the tips of his sleeves and the ends of his robes looked to have been dipped in an intensely red dye, mimicking dried flame-like blood. His long pale hair was left undone, combed neatly, half held back by a golden dragon pin as his black velvet eyepatch stood in stark contrast to everything else.

He'd heard of the robes beforehand, read in great detail as much as he could about the ceremony entirely, but to finally stand here...in the traditional garb...it all felt so fitting for House Targaryen.

Fire and Blood.

There was no real way to explain it, how right it felt to wear these robes. How utterly connected he felt to his roots...to his bloodline...his ancestors, it was like a wave...a surge of energy. For once everything felt right, surrounded by his family, his parents, his siblings as well as his nieces and nephews...he could even see all of their dragons grazing nearby further up the Mound on the grassy plain.

Aemond was not one to be sentimental, but surely if he squinted enough, this was certainly what Old Valyria must have been like. Or maybe even simply just the era afterwards, in the days of Daenys and her bonded Balerion...before Aegon and his sister-wives Rhaenys and Visenya thought to conquer and unite the realm. If he closed his eyes and really listened, listened to the hollow whispers in the evening breeze, The Fourteen Flames all here now, waiting, listening, watching as so many gathered together.

For this ceremony, apparently the whole of their family was required...well everyone of Valyrian heritage...of course with the exception of his mother who had none. Even the little ones were all present, Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Joffrey, Aegon III, Viserys II and Aethan all donning small simple black hoods. While Rhaenyra and his mother had changed into darker toned versions of their gowns they'd worn previously, Lucerys and Jacaerys had both worn similarly deep red doublets and black breeches, while Helaena wore a pale silver shimmering gown as Baela wore a deep rich navy gown. Daeron and Aegon had both worn simple black doublets and breeches. While Rhaenys wore a vibrant sea blue gown that complimented Corlys dark ocean blue doublet.

Although as Aemond suspected, Otto Hightower had not been invited to this ceremony, thankfully so. He couldn't say who made the decision, certainly his mother may not wish to have her father present, but Aemond would wager the final decision had probably rested with Rhaenyra and or Daemon.

And if they knew of Otto's possible plots, then they'd probably both agreed it was best to keep him away.

The waiting was probably the most agitating factor with this ceremony. The Faith's wedding was mostly for show and for the realm’s stamp of legitimacy ; they'd been surrounded by mostly insignificant witnesses who were there just to witness the spectacle of a royal wedding.

But this was the ceremony Aemond had been waiting for.

This was the ceremony that mattered most to him, to their family...to their ancestors. Aemond had already observed the golden talismans for all Fourteen Flames; he'd noticed how vastly different this altar was compared to the altar of The Seven. How several multi-coloured melted candles were scattered upon it, along with other blessed objects and alike. Finally he noticed the elegantly sculpted black chalice and the ornate dragon glass blade.

He recognized most of these objects from his readings, based on either their descriptions or the rough sketched illustrations.

Aemond made sure to keep his shoulders and posture straight as he waited for his wife to join him, with his hands clasped behind his back, the longer he waited, the further up his hands went. Now more or less holding onto his forearms if not his elbows.

The sun was beginning to lower slightly beyond the horizon, when a slight breeze brought the chittering rumble of a dragon that could not be mistaken.

His uncle's legendary mount, the Blood Wyrm, Caraxes.

Shimmering a glorious blood red as he crept and crawled along the grassy plain, he didn't plan on ever telling his uncle...but from the stories he'd heard as a young boy, he'd always thought Caraxes a most magnificent beast. Especially since he lost his eye, the fact that such a large creature who held his own impediments due to birth defects, could still become one of the most fearsome of dragons ever to be known.

It was slightly inspirational.

Feared and rejected by all other dragons... except his precious Syrax.

It seemed even now, Aemond could draw comparisons between himself and the dragon.

But in this moment, it seemed clear that something else was happening here...if Caraxes' attention was drawn...then that meant Daemon was nearby.

And soon enough, just as Aemond thought, finally emerging up onto the mound, Rhaena stepped up the slight inslope with her father at her side, guiding her way with her hand safely tucked on his arm.

Unlike The Faith's ceremony, Aemond couldn't say he knew exactly what to expect here. The history books and hidden ancestors' diaries only say so much, so he planned on keeping a keen eye. Watching as Daemon delivered his daughter to the point of the mound, giving his slightly reluctant nod of approval towards Aemond, and this time, acknowledging the priest with a nod of recognition as well.

Once he had, Daemon made his way over to stand by his wife and children. For his part, he was dressed in a similar set of clothing as he had for the wedding ceremony earlier in the day. Caraxes' settled as soon as his bonded had, allowing Aemond to focus on his betrothed before him.

Dressed in the same robes he was, only...her hair, she'd had her hair cut. Her lovely long silver locs were no more, as now she sported her pale thick ringlet curls at a bob-like length. Stylishly falling over her forehead and framing her face, he found himself staring in awe of her. He knew her natural curls would suit her well...he just was not expecting this…to see her with them only. It seemed like she was glowing and shimmering. Her pale hair was illuminated by the setting sun, as was the golden headdress she wore.

It was plated much like a classic crown of old, with beaded strands that weaved around in Valyrian symbols before looping down the sides of her face.

Once again he felt as if he stood before a living Goddess, illuminescent and glistening.

As if they were standing here, hundreds of years ago back in Old Valyria, and somehow he'd managed to convince a Queen of Old to want him...to love him.

Her gem-like eyes flashed up at him with the smallest of playful smiles, he knew he'd been staring, but now he was certain he must've looked slack jawed and lost in her visage.

Aemond softly cleared his throat, and blinked away from her for just a moment as his cheeks burned and his jaw clenched. In that time the priest, a solemn man with greying hair combed neatly back and a grizzled beard to match, had stepped towards them, dressed in smokey grey robes, with a Valyrian holy symbol embroidered upon his deep tan tunic. He'd already lit the fire pyres with two other darkly robed servants of the faith.

It was time.

The priest stepped towards Rhaena first, with a light bow, he handed her the blade made of dragon glass, as he spoke ceremoniously, "hen lantoti ānogar. Va syndroti väedroma..." blood of two. Joined as one. His words were not projected for their family to hear, in fact the words didn't seem to be entirely directed towards Aemond or Rhaena either. The priest may have been looking upon them, but Aemond could feel that these vows were for the Gods to hear. It was easy to invoke the names of The Seven, but The Fourteen Flames needed true vows...an offering of blood need be made to truly have their blessings.

In that time Rhaena had stepped closer to Aemond, with the blade in hand she raised it to his face. He felt completely at her mercy for while he knew they were to cut one another, he did not know where and how they were to do it. ‘ A cut on the face and hands’ were vague descriptions as far as Aemond was concerned.

Slowly, she brought the blade to his lower lip, letting the cool sharp edge draw metallic blood from him. He did not flinch, he only eyed her intensely as she lowered the blade and pressed the soft pad of her thumb against the fresh wound. Her thumb softly tracing a symbol upon his forehead...the Valryian symbol for 'blood'.

He hadn't realized he'd held his breath as she completed the act, until she was handing him the blade. With a deep breath, it was his turn to return the action. And he did so, taking the blade from her he tentatively drew a cut down the center of her lower lip, before pressing his thumb against the dripping slice and drawing the Valyrian symbol for ‘fire' on the center of her forehead, the one spot her curls weren't covering.

They were allowed a moment, it seemed, to let it all sink in, let the sting of these fresh wounds burn in the evening breeze and the priest continued the spoken vows, "mēro perzot gihoti. Elēdroma iārza sīr. Izulī ampā perzi. Prūmī lanti sēteksi..." ghostly flame. And song of shadows. Two hearts as embers. Forged in fourteen fires .

Maybe it was just his imagination, but the pires seemed to be burning brighter, the sun now halfway set over the horizon burned a deep saturated blood red.

Handing the blade back to Rhaena, he watched as she cut a curving line down the center of her right palm, he then did the same when he took the blade. The priest had initially stepped back as they performed their actions, but soon enough he stepped forward again to receive the blade and place it back upon the altar with great respect and reverence.

He returned with the sculpted black chalice, it looked to be carved from the Dragon Mount itself, the darkest of blacks, shimmering with deeply embedded shards of Obsidian. With a slight nod, Rhaena lifted her wounded hand to meet his, and together they clasped them over the chalice.

Aemond's eye never left hers, her pale amethyst eyes peered into his with an intensity he rarely saw outside of their private more intimate moments. As their blood burned together, mixing and truly bonding...his heart began thumping harshly within his chest.

They kept their hands clasped together as the priest stepped around them, and held the chalice with their shared blood up to the burning pyres, then to the golden talismans of The Fourteen Flames. All while speaking the final verses of their vows, "hen jený māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozundesi. Syndroro ōño jedo. Rý kīvia mazvestraksi..." a future promised in glass. The stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time. Of darkness and light.

When he returned before them, he offered the chalice to Aemond first. With only slight hesitance, he reached for it, and brought the edge to his lips, letting the warm stannic flavour cascade over his tongue and down his throat. He felt his body surge, now fully truly bonded to his dragoness. Once he handed her the chalice, she smoothly did the same, finishing the other half before returning the chalice for the priest.

This time he did not wait for the priest to bid whether it was time or not, he knew it was. He'd felt it long before now, how everything around them burned and soared. With his free hand, he reached down for her cheek and claimed her lips fiercely, tasting their savory shared blood on her tongue. The instant contact alone had his whole body surging with pure ecstasy, sparkling and tingling with what felt like sacred energy.

He could hear Vhagar keen happily in the distance as well as Syrax and Caraxes pleasant chittering. Tesarrion was vocal, as well Sunfrye and Dreamfyre, Tyraxes and Vermax. So many dragons...all accepting of this union.

The Fourteen Flames had certainly blessed them.

When they finally separated, he let out a shuddering breath as he gazed into her eyes. Her soft hand caressing his cheek then chin, her lips pulling into a small smile just as his faintly did the same.

Finally his Valyrian bride...was truly his Valyrian wife. Bonded to each other for the rest of their lives, seen and blessed by all Gods, Old and New.

“Mēre ñelly, mēre prūmia, mēre soul, sir se syt mirre,” One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.

☾

Now, Aemond had meant what he said earlier in the day. The moment their wedding ceremony had concluded, and they'd changed out of their traditional robes, he stole his wife away and snuck her through to the secret tunnels, letting her lead them back to the Dragon Mound.

Dressed now in just a simple black cotton silk shirt and black leather breeches, while his wife had borrowed one of his grey cotton shirts and a long black cloak…per his request. The shirt itself already reached just below her knees, but with the cloak she was entirely covered, not that many would see them slip into the tunnels. But more importantly Aemond was thinking ahead, his grandfather's meddling or potential to meddle, was wearing on him. Surely the old man had missed his chance, but nothing was certain.

The Fourteen Flames had blessed them, of that, he was certain. The flames had burned so bright, so unnaturally hot, it had to be a sign, the way their family's dragons all roared and sung for them…a sound he'd never heard done in such unison.

This was fate, he'd decided it had to be.

All those years of suffering at court surrounded by cruel plain looking Ladies, useless lower born daughters who'd never meant anything to him.

He always knew he deserved better, deep down, he knew. A Valyrian Prince like himself deserved no less than a true Valryian Princess.

And now he had her.

Body and soul, recognized by all. His dragoness, the one woman who was somehow his total opposite…yet he'd found so much comfort and similarity in her all the same. She was his other half, every single moment in her presence proved that. Even when she hated him, she loved him.

And now he could take solace in their shared matching scars, their vows physically engraved on their skin, his true mate.

It was uncertain before her, his future, he'd never cared to think that far ahead since it was always clear to him that his mother and grandfather sought to plan it out for him.

But now it was his…his and his wife's.

And he'd do everything in his power to protect her…protect their union…protect their future. So he had a plan for tonight, well, less of a plan and more of a promise. Wedding nights were usually reserved for claiming maidenheads, rituals and all. But seeing how he'd claimed Rhaena's over a moon ago, tonight would have to be made special another way.

Vhagar would play her part in that.

Aemond had never taken a woman atop Vhagar before, he’d never had any true mistresses and he certainly would have never granted a whore such a luxury. But this was different now, he’d flown with Rhaena before and as he planned to take Rhaena to a small island for the rest of their night, he was certain pleasuring his newly wed Princess upon the beast would be quite memorable. And with her only dressed in one of his shirts…well, in that sense he'd given himself easy access to her.

He had only one goal for their honeymoon, which as far as he was concerned started now. Otto could try and reenact his plan at any moment, and while Aemond knew the rest of his family was vehemently against his grandfather, it would help to have an assurance. And he figured the sooner his Lady could just give him a sign that she was indeed carrying his child…the sooner that assurance would be had. Not that it would stop Otto entirely, if the old man could care less about Aemond as his grandson rather than just a pawn to use, he knew he wouldn’t treat his great-grandchild any differently. But Daemon most certainly would, as much as Aemond wanted Rhaena heavy with his child for personal reasons, the fact itself would add an extra incentive for Daemon to protect both his daughter and grandchild. That applied to Rhaenyra as well, it applied to the rest of his family in various ways to be fair.

As they rounded the last corner, Rhaena’s hand held tightly in his, they stepped outside and began climbing the steep hill up and onto the grassy plains beyond the Dragon Mound. The sky had grown darker, the puffy smokey clouds looking more and more like an oncoming storm was soon to arrive. But those beautiful cracks in the sky still shone through, deeply inked oranges and reds as it cooled in a slight purple-ish tone on the eastern side of the sky.

"You know my grandparents really are coming around on you. I think I even saw my grandmother with tears in her eyes during the ceremony," Rhaena remarked, she'd been a step behind him, so he was made to glance back at her as her soft voice broke their silence.

"Tears of joy or painful heartbreak?" He grinned, a slight vindictive edge to his tone, "I don't recall her being very fond of me to begin with,"

"Well that is what happens when you wound all of one woman's grandchildren on the night of her precious daughter's funeral," she eyed playfully, but her tone was still biting. They may have moved past this, but it still stung at times. He didn't regret the entire night, he couldn't bring himself to do that. But he did regret hurting her specifically that night, that much he could manage.

"Even though I left that fight as the most wounded party…but fair enough. I already apologized to her when I asked for her blessing," he found himself too dazed by his dragoness to be bitter now. Her lovely silver curls, blowing against her cheeks with the evening breeze. He needed to look away if he wished to have any hope of focusing on anything else. He zeroed his gaze on all the dragons in the distance, "if anything I was even more courteous with your grandparents than your father."

"That is true," his Princess hummed, “though seeing as my father held a sword to your throat, it is understandable,” her tone lightened as she moved her pace up, trying to match the long strides he was taking though her shorter legs would not allow her to. Aemond found himself glancing over at her as she naturally leaned into him, smirking knowingly up at him, "stay focused, my Prince. We are surrounded ,"

She was being playful, but she was right. In either case, he was not bothered by it, guiding her with a casual confidence, narrowly slipping through the lazily sleepy and grazing dragons of their family. These dragons knew their scents, could easily sense their blood to be of no threat to them, they were safe enough.

"But she does like you," she whispered a moment later, as if she hoped not to wake the dragons, "my grandmother I mean, I think she especially loves how you remind her of my father, she enjoys how you irritate and provoke him with ease. She's called it divine karma ."

The idea of the cold regal austere Princess Rhaenys Targaryen having any sort of fondness for him certainly felt odd. But the reason behind it seemed humorous enough.

"Is that so," Aemond's voice trailed as he kept his eye out for his mountainous mount, "well at least she no longer lusts for my head on a spike."

That seemed to have made his Princess giggle, the bright airy sound made his blood sing, "Aemond! She hasn’t wished for that…for at least some time now. And it matters not. You're certainly in her good books now. All she cares for is my happiness, and since you very much make me happy…she's grown fonder of you.”

“I’ll take your word for it, sweet girl,” a genuine smile ghosted over his lips as he spotted Vhagar was just up ahead. Further on the hill she kept to herself away from all the other dragons. A lone creature…much like Aemond himself…or at least how he once was.

“Good,” Rhaena smiled over at him, “in either case, she always knew it wasn't my wish to be so far away from my family…or to truly be the future Lady of Driftmark . I think she’s glad our marriage will keep us close, here at Dragonstone, the distance isn’t too far from Driftmark or King’s Landing."

He stopped to face his wife, catching her eye when she realized he was no longer walking. In that moment, the way the fading daylight seemed to glitter over her as she stood in his loose fitting cotton shirt. The way the black cloak hung off her shoulders, contrasting greatly with her illuminating silver curls and her bright violet eyes. It was a wonder he hadn't lost control of himself already, the tantalizing idea of forgoing everything and just taking her in this field surrounded by the ancient beasts of their family.

"What is it," she breathed, eyes beginning to shine with a twinkle of concern. She'd never know what she did to him, just how affected he was sometimes by his Princess.

Aemond swallowed tightly, forgetting the conversation they were having as his eye trailed down to the still fresh cut down the center of her lower lip. A cut he gave her, a permanent mark along with the now wrapped cut on the hand he held. Without thinking he'd reached for her cheek, still not answering her question, as nothing was wrong. He just wanted to stop…for just a moment and let it all sink in. As he caressed her incredibly soft cheek, bringing his thumb to trail along her lip and down to clutch onto her chin.

All the while she'd simply gazed up at him, never flinching away from him, only ever leaning into him, close as ever.

With a small smile, her tongue darted out to the corner of her mouth, "you're wasting daylight, my love," she teased.

"Is that so," he nearly gritted, his jaw hardening as he tilted her chin up. Words repeating in his mind like a mantra: don't take her here in this field, wait at least until you're up in the skies. Patience was key and he could muster just a little bit more.

With a deep sigh, he leaned his forehead down against hers, breathing her in, feeling her warmth, "I've dreamt of this. You, here with me, as my wife officially, entirely mine…" his voice remained low, smooth as silk. To be fair, in his dreams he imagined standing here with her and their child in his arms…but that would come soon enough. For now, he’d closed his eye, just content to live in this moment.

She hummed as her small hands had found their way around his waist, pulling him closer, "it is real now, I am your wife and you are my husband. I am yours and you are mine ."

Her affirmation set him alight, enough to lean himself down and take her soft lips. Feeling the sting of her lips pressing against his sliced lip, her saliva burning him as he tasted sweet wine on her tongue. It took everything in him to pull himself back from her, breathing heavily, willing himself to simply take her hand and guide her towards Vhagar.

Even though the little smile she'd flashed him had sent electricity straight through his body, sparking in his lower abdomen, making his cock stiffen.

A feeling he did his best to ignore for now.

Once they reached Vhagar, his enormous she-beast, a true ancient relic from the old world. She seemed to be napping soundly, loud snores rumbling through her nostrils.

Aemond kept a tight hold on Rhaena's hand, she tended to step away from Vhagar instinctively, even though by now she knew the old dragon was comfortable with her (she always had been) and there was no real danger for her here. He could already feel her tense as they'd weeded their way through the other dragons. And now here standing before Vhagar, she’d all but shielded herself behind him. He knew her relationship with his mount was a complicated one, but he sought to mend things between the two over time. She was slowly beginning to grow more comfortable around the ancient dragon in either case. From his own observation, and as he'd told Rhaena before their first flight. Vhagar could smell her true mother's blood within her, Lady Laena was a respected and beloved mount to Vhagar, of course she remembered and would be fond of any offspring of hers.

Vhagar certainly seemed to always enjoy Rhaena's compliments over his anyhow.

Aemond pulled his little wife in front of him, pressing his hand against the heated neck of his bonded dragon, "Vhagar, ñuha pendagon, nyke gīmigon iksā raqagon aōha ēdrugon..." my wonder, I know you are enjoying your sleep...

He received a rustling grumble as a response, that at least told him she'd awoken. Moving closer, he snaked his arm around his wife's small waist, guiding one of her hands to place against Vhagar, "Nyke maghatan ñuha ābrazȳrys lēda nyke, nyke gīmigon skorkydoso olvie ao hae zirȳla," I brought my wife with me, I know how much you like her . At that Vhagar turned to sniff them, letting out a warm jovial rumble as a sign her approval.

He could feel when Rhaena let out the deep breath she was holding in, as she untangled herself from him and cautiously made her way over to stand in Vhagar's line of sight.

She slid her hood down then held her hands behind her back, softly smiling up at Vhagar as she spoke, "rytsa gevie riña, Skorkydoso glaesā?" hi beautiful girl, how are you? , Vhagar keened and cooed low rumbling purs that seemed very much like an avid response. Ruffling her body, as she shook herself in preparation.

If Aemond found himself fondly watching his little wife speak to his dragon, he didn't draw any attention to it. Leaning casually against the massive side of his mount, he watched with great amusement as his Princess patted and hugged Vhagar's snout.

"Aemond se nyke sia dīnilūks tubī,” Aemond and I were married today , she beamed and swayed, “Iksan sure bona aderī konīr kessa sagon byka ‘zaldrīzoti’ syt ao naejot rhaenagon," I am sure that soon there will be little ‘dragons’ for you to meet , Vhagar nuzzled her snout against his Princess. Although once Rhaena locked eyes with Aemond it seemed she remembered what they came here to do, "oh kessa, kessa īlon sōvegon pār?" oh yes, shall we fly then?

With an agreed rumble, Vhagar lowered herself to be mounted. As Rhaena made her way back over to Aemond, she bit her lip trying to hide her excitement, "I think she was quite happy to see me today,"

"I always tell you she's happy to see you, I'm certain she regards us as her own little hatchlings," he smirked, crossing his arms as she stepped in front of him.

She was certainly a sight, her cloak kept blowing open in the evening breeze and he found she looked far too attractive dressed in his shirt, nearly drowning it yet fitting in it all the same. The way the smooth tawny skin of her calves were all exposed until the tops of her dark leather boots covered the rest of her ankles. He was glad all the other visiting Lords had left earlier in the day...that this sight was all his.

Once she was close enough, he pulled her to him, unable to resist the urge to taste her soft lips again. Letting his fingers slip through her incredibly soft curls as his tongue roved over hers, breaking from her lips long enough to grin, "I think I also just heard you promise to introduce our future children to her,"

"Well...I think it's fair to assume you plan to take our children on many flights upon her," Rhaena panted softly, "if she thinks of us as her hatchlings...she'd want to see her grandchildren ..."

It was the way she said things like that, that made Aemond's body burn, made his heart soar with what he dared to recognize as pure happiness. Every time they'd spoken of children before, it was more about how he'd claimed her, the ultimate form of possession to have her carry his child.

She'd often spur him on with the promise of 'fucking a child into her' .

But this was real...this was an unprompted admission that she truly wanted this with him. A future, a family...she wanted to carry his children...to be the mother of his children. It shouldn't have dawned such a new sense of realization for him, for the past moon all she'd ever done was choose him.

She'd chosen him over everyone and everything else.

Sometimes it was just hard to believe that this was real, cemented as reality, he needn't fantasize anymore.

As his eye flicked over her, drawn back to her hypnotic eyes, he took her lips again. Feeling as her hands caressed his lower back, gripping onto his shirt as she gently pulled herself back with a smile, "I'm not entirely certain what you have planned, but the sun will certainly be gone entirely if we don't leave now."

What she didn't know was that Aemond didn't necessarily need the sun for his plans to succeed, he already had a vague idea of where he'd like to fly her. But he supposed having her witness a true sunset from atop Vhagar was a part of his goal to romance her.

With a reluctant groan, he shifted her hips towards the netted rope that cascaded down Vhagar's side, lifting her a few rows up so she could start climbing from a higher starting point.

He watched her carefully, making sure she had her footing as well as being prepared in case she slipped. When he was sure she was fine, he made his way up behind her.

As Rhaena seated herself atop Vhagar's saddle, Aemond closed the distance, in one smooth motion he'd practiced dozens of times before on his own, he managed to settle himself perfectly behind her. Pressing himself against her soft body, letting his legs cradle around hers as his arms reached around her waist to grasp onto the reins. He could feel as she pressed her back against him, her shoulders resting back against his chest as she placed her hands on his knees. Aemond felt somewhat emboldened in the moment, sitting atop his legendary mount with his Valyrian Princess, his wife, the woman he'd get to spend the rest of his life with.

In an effort to break his longing gaze from her, he moved even closer to her, leaning just slightly so he could press a soft kiss to the side of her exposed neck, "hold on tight to me," he'd whispered against her skin.

Rhaena leaned into him, doing as he bade and gripping into his thighs. Once he felt that they were sufficiently secured, he finally uttered the command, "Sōvēs, Vhagar," fly, Vhagar .

At that, Vhagar's enormous form ruffled and shifted, she took a few heavy earth shaking steps working her momentum enough to spread her wings and lift them into the air. The force of her flight was always intense in the take off, Aemond tightened his grip on the reins with his right hand, as his left hand wrapped around Rhaena's waist, his hand holding her firmly against him.

And with that they were off.

☾

There was always an instant sense of adrenaline that pumped through his veins whenever he took to the skies, flying was a pleasure that seeped through his veins and set his entire being on fire. Having his Princess in his arms only amplified the feeling, burning entirely as the feel of her soft body pressing against him sent sparks trailing up his spine. Aemond tried to will his breaths to remain calm, even as his grip around her waist tightened. His erection was growing by the second, but he did his best to focus his mind on flying for the moment, his voice growing rough with need, "naejot, Vhagar," forward, Vhagar . Pulling on the reins, he guided her up further into the sky.

The chilling wind whipped against them as they soared higher, the air grew thinner but there was a specific sight he wanted to show her.

"Just how high must we fly!" Rhaena tried to speak above the rushing wind, turning slightly as her curls ruffled.

"I'm romancing you, remember. Now close your eyes." he grinned, he leaned into her as Vhagar's wings flapped harder, forcing more power and speed enough to finally break through the surface of the thick storm clouds.

It dampened them just a bit, but with a deep breath, they'd finally reached it. The true sky, bleeding vibrant swirling pinks, oranges and reds, cascading purples to deep indigo... harmonious in its beauty as the last part of the burning crimson sun tipped over the horizon.

A pure sense of calm washed over Aemond as Vhagar evened out her own weight, now soaring peacefully.

"Open your eyes," he whispered huskily by her ear, and once he had, he heard her gasp. Her shoulders rose as her body tensed against him, her grip on his thighs slowly loosening as she looked all around the sky.

"Aemond," her voice was all soft and breathy, full of wonder, completely awestruck. He didn't have to see her face to know that she'd loved this, but hearing her voice as it was certainly made his pride soar. Soon enough he felt her shifting herself, turning in her seat until she could view him truly. That was when he noticed the faint tear streaks on her flushed cheeks, causing his heart to stutter.

Surely these must be good tears.

Like when he gifted her the Valyrian necklace she prized so much.

"It's beautiful. I think this is most lovely... wonderous... perfect... I- I've never seen such beauty," she breathed, reaching for his cheek. Maybe she hadn't, but he was certain everyday he was afforded the pleasure of looking upon her...any time she'd deign to look upon him with the amount of light and love that she had in her eyes at this very moment.

The view of this sky was nice, but his view of her was so much more.

When his Princess pulled him down to her lips with ease, for he would surely not resist her, she'd kissed him so lovingly. Her arm fell over his shoulder as her hand sunk into his loose untied hair. He was already burning for her, his heart crashing within chest all because of her.

Gods, this had to be the moment, the perfect time to pull her onto his lap and take her atop Vhagar.

As his wife moaned against him, he sought her tongue out skillfully, simultaneously distracting her as he loosened his grip on the reins enough to secure her right thigh against his. He let his left hand trail down the curves of her waist, grabbing ahold of her left thigh and draping it over his own, spreading her widely for him. She'd turned enough for her back to rest against the sturdy guard that was his right arm. Through it all, she hadn't stopped to question him, only gripping onto his shoulder with her left hand as he slid his own down her center, smoothly sliding his hand up and underneath her shirt then beneath the waistband of her underclothes.

"Aemond!" she'd finally gasped against his lips, her pale eyes finally locking with his indigo eye, "surely we cannot…not on Vhagar's back..."

Now the whining uncertainty may have been what her lips were saying, but her eyes had shone with something else all together. Undeterred, his fingers ventured on sliding down until he found her core wet and wanting for him. His dragoness, he didn't know why she bothered to attempt denial when her body always told a different story.

She was biting her lip, whimpering and his index finger circled around her sensitive little bud, "mmm, little wife. I promise you Vhagar will not mind it."

He wasn't entirely sure of that, it wasn't as if he'd ever attempted to touch her intimately the last time they flew together on Vhagar. But Aemond was certain that Vhagar, being as old as she was, must have witnessed or known things of this nature to occur. In either case, all of Rhaena’s little whines and whimpers only spurred him on further, her sounds had hardened his cock within his breeches.And watching his dragoness buck against his hand with just the slightest of touches was not helping him keep composure. With her arm slung over his shoulder, now reaching to grasp his silk shirt as her other hand gripped into his thigh.

Surely she wanted more, it was obvious that she did.

"You still wish for me to stop?" he grinned rather cruelly, knowing full well that her answer would be anything but stop . Aemond still wanted so much from her tonight, from the amount of times he expected to make her scream for him…by this night's end, he'd have his little wife begging for him.

"I never said I wanted you to stop," she groaned, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he purposely ghosted his fingertips over her drenched folds. Playing with her entrance really, as he eyed their surroundings, making sure they were still on track as they flew through the sky.

"Oh? What do you want then?" He resisted the urge to smirk, “use your words, sweet girl,” he eyed her intensely as her own shot to his with the use of sweet girl . Many moons ago he'd used those words strictly to annoy her, now he only meant them in the fondest way possible. It was a shame he didn't have a free hand to caress her cheek, the slightly stunned look on her face, the way her hips had rocked up against his hand, whatever tone he'd spoken in must've surely affected her.

Now he couldn't stop smirking, leaning for her lips just as she breathed heavily, "I want your fingers..."

"Do you?" he goaded, finally teasing his index finger, slipping beyond her dripping folds and into her heated core, her sweet whimper was caught against his lips. Gods, the way her hips tried to move against his hand.

All he could do was think of how he could maneuver her around to have her ride him.

"Aemond…" she whined, gripping into his hair as her hips urged him, "I want more, fuck me with your fingers...please…"

"Such crass words from my pristine Princess," he smiled, sinking two more digits into her all at once, drawing a heavenly sob from his beautiful wife, “your manners seem to be slipping the more time you spend in my presence.”

“Mmm, I said please ,” she gasped and tightened her grip on him as his fingers stroked and stretched her, twisting and curling within her, he could feel how her body shivered against him. It was at this point, he figured she’d be ready to take him here and now. Maybe it was his own indulgence to want her to cum on his cock rather than his hand, especially since earlier in the tunnels he’d been quite gentle with her. Her body should be able to take him.

At a glance, the clouds had begun to shift, swirling angrily below them, a storm was certainly coming. With a skilled hand, Aemond had already begun aiming Vhagar to descend below the clouds' surface with the slightest pull of the reins. They'd reach the small deserted island in just a little bit, he could see it off in the distance. But he could make her cum before then, he was sure the pure adrenaline of dropping down in the sky and soaring altogether, had to have already been heightening her pleasure, especially now that his fingers had properly begun to stroke her. Aemond was sure in his skills, he could make this happen.

Daylight had already faded from them above the clouds, but now below them, the dark grey clouds cast them into further darkness. Eerie tones as the dying daylight illuminated the thick swells of the storm clouds with pale light from the otherside.

Rhaena's hips were rocking up rapidly, colliding with the palm of his hand, adding friction to her sensitive clit. She seemed to be looking for purchase, her right hand trying to clutch onto the edge of the saddle as her body began to tense and spasm. With the final curl of his fingers, he slipped his fingers from her, pulling a most disappointed groan from her lips.

“Skoro syt ēdruta ao jemagon nyke va hae bisa,” why must you lead me on like this , her frustrated grumble was accompanied by her attempting to squirm her way out of his hold. As if she had anywhere else to go, the whole display was certainly comical, especially her pouty Valyrian.

“Ñuha vaoreznuni, ñuha dōna. Yn kesan kostilus ao,” my apologies, my sweet. But I will please you , he laughed, licking her slick off his fingers, he managed to undo the laces of his breeches while directing her to, “gūrogon ziry hen,” take it off , motioning to her underclothes. His Princess eyed him cautiously for only a moment, her chest heaving with each breath she took, her eyes trailing down as he pulled his throbbing member free. The moment her pale eyes widened, she seemed to understand the order, and quickly did as she was told. Now Aemond might’ve watched as his wife frantically look for a place to put her underclothes, not truly reaching the packs on the side of Vhagar’s saddle. In his eagerness he might’ve snatched the cloth garment and tossed it over his shoulder swiftly.

Her eyes shot wide as she gasped, “Aemond!”

“Do you wish to complain about your garment, or would you rather I help you forget about it entirely,” he burned his gaze through her, watching as she breathed deeply, her jaw tightening as she began to turn her body in order to face him properly. Cautiously pulling her legs up, Aemond made sure to guard either side of her so she could safely slip her legs up and around his waist. One of her arms securely draped over his shoulder as she took his hard length in her other hand and stroked it nicely, before slowly working to guide his tip to her entrance. His cock twitched at her touch, with a wince he gripped tightly onto reins, hoping to keep Vhagar steady and soaring as the Island slowly drew closer.

Aemond’s back tensed as his cock finally entered her soaked warmth, a shuddering moan left his Princess as his thick size stretched her sweet little cunt the further he went. He’d groaned from the moment he’d entered her, working one of his hands around her waist, he pulled her up and onto his lap. Sinking into her further, his cock throbbing within her heat, snuggly fitting as she pulled herself even closer. Wrapping both of her arms around his neck, her chest now properly pressed against his as she began to rock against him.

Gods, this is what he wanted.

The pure unbridled pleasure of flying and fucking, he knew it would feel extraordinary. The fire piercing through him as his Princess took his cock in full all mixed with the soaring power of flying with one’s bonded mount, it was phenomenal.

All encompassing, sparking and burning him, it felt almost mythical.

Every thrust coursed flames throughout his body, the feeling matched by Vhagar swerving and winding through the air. He found himself letting his head fall back, closing his eye, soaking in the friction of Rhaena’s writhing hips, her hands gripping onto the back of his shirt, her face buried in the crook of his neck as she gasped and sobbed for him. She was chasing her previous pleasure, the peak she was so close to riding over just moments, he could feel just how vigorous her movements were. His beautiful Goddess was moaning desperately by his ear, the sweetest of sounds, all while she used his cock to reach her own end. And he wanted her to, as the island drew near, he was determined to make her cum before they touched the ground.

Tightening his grip on her waist, he aimed his up hips against hers as best as he could in his seat, her hips rolling fiercely against him as her core started clenching around his cock. With one last aimed thrust, he finally felt her flutter around him, a shrieking moan that carried his name accompanied it all as she clung against him. The beauty of it all was that no effort need be made to muffle her cries, in fact he wanted the way she screamed his name aloud to be enough to carry on the winds that rushed by them.

Let the whole realm hear.

As his Princess came down from her high, breathing heavily as she melted into him, his hand leaving her waist to gently stroke her back as she purred faintly. "It's just not fair," she sighed dreamily, nuzzling her nose against his neck as her hands caressed his upper back, "your fingers always feel far too good...and then your cock…I didn’t know it could all feel so good on dragonback."

Aemond chuckled, in all honesty, he hadn’t known either, he just assumed that it would…he was glad to be right. He could imagine just how magnificent it would feel to cum on that high, though this time he prioritized her climax over his, the next time he ventured to take her like this on dragonback, he would experience it in full. For now he planned on saving his own pleasure for once they’d landed. Finally grasping the reins properly in both hands now, he could see that the small deserted cliff island was just below them, Vhagar was already descending as he guided the reins to follow through on landing here. Aemond let his wife simply stay as she was, safely wrapped around him as Vhagar touched down on the shores of the island.

☾

Once they'd separated from each other, dismounting safely, Vhagar settled herself down near the shore of the island while Aemond guided Rhaena up the slight incline. He'd made sure to have Vhagar set a torch alight before they started walking away from her, as the sky had embraced the darkness of nightfall now. Vhagar turned to hunt fish from the sea while they walked up beyond where the sand faded into a grassy plain area. Once Aemond selected a spot, Rhaena spread the blanket they'd packed as he used their torch to create a stationary fire for them.

By the time he turned back, his dragoness was already laying invitingly on the blanket, completely bare for him as her eyes followed his movements. It was an easy decision to waste no time undressing himself, he did it in a flurry, pulling off his eyepatch last before he joined her. Settling himself between her spread legs, he caressed her plush thighs, drinking her in as the fire light danced along her smooth skin.

"Byka ābrazȳrys, ñuha byka ābrazȳrys," little wife, my little wife , he finally breathed, “ziry iksos issare iā bōsa tubis,” it's been a long day , he was dragging himself down her body, spreading her legs further.

If he was being honest with himself, he'd spent so long wanting Rhaena to be his...it was only in these quiet moments alone with her where he could really let the fact sink in. He’d let it play on repeat if necessary. He'd married her today, his dragoness...his bonded mate...his goddess...his Princess. Until she was his, as much as he wanted her, dreamed of her, hoped for her…he never thought he'd have her.

But he did now.

They'd binded their blood and vowed themselves to each other for the rest of their lives.

He could look upon her, feel her, touch her, kiss her...love her.

'We are nobility, we marry for advantage, for political strategical gain, we do not have the luxury of marrying for love,'

'love is not a necessity, it is a luxury ,'

The upsetting part about his grandfather's words, the thing that truly made them stick and haunt him all the same. Was if he'd heard these words some moons ago, when he still believed his marriage would only be one of duty and political alliances. He might have agreed with his grandfather then...he might have believed him to be right. Living that life, the life his grandfather would have carved out for him...let the infighting between his family implode and destroy itself as they all wounded one another just cause . Killing to hurt each side, for petty revenge, for decades long feuds.

He would've stayed lonely, angry and self sabotaging. Turning inward into something he was not... letting his rage truly consume him, turn him into something wicked and cruel. Becoming the monster the realm already believed him to be.

All to fulfill his role as the family sword .

“Mmm, ziry iksos iēdrosa bē qopsa naejot pāsagon,” it's still almost hard to believe , she hummed, gently carding her fingers through his hair, “olvie Vesteros dīnilūks mōris isse prūmia pryjagon iā lēda iā morghon,” most Westeros weddings end in heartbreak or with a death .

A fact to be sure, but Aemond hoped they’d managed to break that curse. Both of their weddings had succeeded without violence or heartbreak. And even though the night was still young, he hoped to keep it that way.

"Mirre ñuhoso. Ñuha dōna valzȳrys, kessa ao stare rȳ nyke mirre bantis bōsa iā kessa ao mazverdagon jorrāelagon naejot nyke," any way. My sweet husband, will you stare at me all night long or shall you make love to me , his dragoness' eyes pale eyes peered through him as her lips pulled into a playful smirk.

It was her way of teasing him, but he would take her taunt seriously enough, wasting no time as he lowered himself between her legs, licking his lips as happily he eyed just how soaking wet he'd made her sweet cunt. The sight of her slick oozing from her now stretched cavernous quivering core had made him feel quite ravenous. Aemond wouldn't wait any longer, his self control disintegrated instantly as he hungrily dragged his tongue along her opening. The sultriest of moans was torn from her throat as he devoured her, his hands gripping into the soft flesh of her thighs even as her legs threatened to squeeze around him.

He found himself grinning against her as her fingers slipped deeper into his hair, nails scratching his scalp deliciously as he suckled the apex of her sex, her breathy whimpers were followed by her hips slowly rocking up to meet him.

"Oh, Aemond," she moaned, her voice all soft and wispy, "avy jorrāelan…avy jorrāelan sīr olvie," I love you…I love you so much .

His eye snapped up to hers.

Her loving gaze paired with the added inflection of when she'd said 'so much' caused him to pause and swallow thickly. Letting her fingers gently comb his hair for a moment, everything in his mind fading and melting all at once. The sea that surrounded them made the wind on this island far more potent, rustling through the grass around them.

It gusted through her curls and his own hair, time felt suspended as he gazed up at her.

Surely he'd never meant so much to one person.

How was it that she could continue to unmask him with such ease, even when he was certain he knew their relationship clearly…understood it fully. Sometimes he just could not prepare himself for the level of affection she sought to bestow upon him.

Aemond blinked himself back to reality, he’d kept his thumb on her clit, as he slowly moved himself upwards, kissing a heated trail up the curve of stomach. Rhaena's hands slid onto his shoulders as he licked a streak between the swell of her breasts before pressing warm kisses along her neck. Her legs lifted and wrapped around his waist, forcing his already aching tip to drag along her burning wet center.

It was a testament to his own strength that he hadn’t spilled himself with the feel of her alone, he’d edged himself on during their time on Vhagar, it was going to be a nightmare keeping his stamina up. Aemond bit back his groan, his tip certainly weeping precum at this very moment, he instead focused on cradling her face and claiming her lips. Letting his Princess taste herself on his tongue as she explored his mouth with an eager need for him. Pulling him closer as her hand dipped back into his hair, she was making him feel feral, his lips edging down her jaw and neck again as his teeth nicked, nibbled and bit at her soft skin.

Just as a wave of her intoxicating lavender scent washed over him, he heard her moan, "Aemond…I want something from you,"

Gods there it was again, that silky way she’d say his name whenever she wanted him.

As his tongue soothed the mark he'd left on her neck, he nuzzled his nose along her throat, "...anything," his voice rasped. Her soft body had slightly stiffened after he’d responded, he could feel her throat throb as she swallowed, her soft hands reaching down to lift and cradle his face above hers. There was a look in her pale eyes, something pained or extremely vulnerable.

What could she ask of him now that would cause such a reaction…such an expression?

"Aemond, I…" her voice was all soft and melodic, her eyes zeroing in on his left eye, "I wish to see you…without your sapphire." Her soft hand moved in a slow caress along his scarred cheek, her thumb softly tracing the length of his old scar.

Aemond felt his cheeks burning, his jaw tensing as he exhaled evenly through his nose.

His eye lingered on her lips for a moment, he captured them needily, breaking away with a breathy, "...very well," he had promised his dragoness anything after all. With a lasting kiss to the corner of her jaw, he pulled himself back onto his knees, keeping her spread legs draped around him for the added warmth. Or maybe more so for the added comfort it brought him, her eyes shone with deepest affection for him while her facial expression remained gentle.

There was a conflicting heat in the pit of his stomach, cooling ice that threatened to melt with the heat that surrounded it. It was not what his dragoness asked of him that bothered him, for while very few people ever saw him in this way…at his most vulnerable.

His dragoness was free to every part of him…he trusted her with everything he had.

It was just the action itself that held so many weighted memories.

As he straightened his shoulders, he lowered his head to remove the sapphire. The loss of his eye had made his left eye socket rather physically sensitive to the touch, it was occasionally still a rather painful part of his body. While his sapphire was custom made and smoothed down to fit comfortably, removing it could sometimes still be an intense and excruciatingly painful ordeal.

Thankfully it hadn't felt so extreme tonight.

Just mildly uncomfortable, with a skilled twist and a pull, a motion he knew by heart, he managed to get his grip on the jewel and captured it in his hand.

He need only look up at her now…deep in his heart he knew he'd only be met by her beautiful loving eyes. But he could not help but think of the last time he dared show a woman his empty socket, it wasn’t on purpose, he’d taken out his sapphire earlier in the night. But during his rough handling of the whore he was with, his leather patch had fallen off, a whore she may have been, but the pure unbridled terror that emanated throughout her entire being had not been something he’d managed to forget. Even with his sapphire…the sapphire was meant to placate the maidens of court, he once hoped the jewel would soften the dark hopeless vacancy of his lost eye…at least superficially so. But it had only ever done the opposite. And covering it with his leather patch had done no better.

Of course, his Princess had been different.

She always had been.

Rhaena, like the most elegant of flowers, melded with the ferocity of a true dragoness. Supposed beauties of the land could never bear to look at him…and yet the one true Valyrian beauty he knew to exist could. How was she the only woman to ever face him so boldly…so fearlessly. At every turn she'd surprised him, thrown him off guard, his set path, she unmasked him continuously. And now as his wife, she wanted to see more of him…how or why she found his sapphire attractive was still a mystery to him. But the idea of his beautiful Princess still feeling the same way after seeing him without it…the sunken dark missing piece of himself.

He didn't wish to linger on these thoughts any longer. In the time he'd taken to release his jewel, his Lady patiently waited for him. His long pale hair had fallen around him like a protective curtain, but he'd soon remedy that, using his other hand, he combed through his hair and lifted it out of his face.

Gods, he'd let his guard down around her almost always…this was the last barrier he had. The only thing that could make his heart beat so irregularly, each pounding thump felt large and life-threatening, his chest was aching, his lungs failing to inhale properly.

With a somewhat shaky exhale, he lifted his gaze to hers, tightly closing his hand around the sapphire as his free hand released his hair in favour of holding her thigh against him.

He was bracing himself…that unease of not knowing exactly how'd she'd react to this.

As Rhaena's hands began to softly glide along his forearms, he felt her slowly pull him down to her, her bright eyes gazing up into his with only warmth and love. There was something else in her eyes, he couldn't decide if it was pain or regret. But the thought cleared as he lowered himself willingly over her, allowing her hands to cup his cheeks, her thumb caressing his scar gently once again, then she pressed a warm kiss upon it.

Gods, her warmth always made his heart burn, so much so he had to work to unlock his jaw just to manage speaking, his throat felt dry and achy, "...you're not…disgusted or frightened?"

Truthfully the look in her eyes and her gestures told him the answer, but part of him needed to hear it from her lips regardless.

"It's only a wound, my love," she breathed softly, her hand slipping down his jaw and further, careful not to graze the stitches on his neck, "I could not love you any less for having it and I did play my part in you receiving it…I have regretted it ever since,"

"I've told you before I do not blame you. I just…why did you wish for this, Rhaena? For me to remove the sapphire," his lips twisted, as a low growl grew in his throat, this wasn't a topic he wished to revisit now, this was their wedding night. He just wanted to take his wife, he brought her here to spend the night lavishing her not revisiting old scars.

Aemond scanned her face critically, watching any minute expression, slightly annoyed when nothing discernable showed, "why would you want this sight? Here, tonight of all nights."

"Because," she sighed softly, running her fingers through his hair, reaching up to press a kiss to his chin, "it is our wedding night and I want you completely. You are my husband now, and I want to know every bit of you. And here on this island where it is just the two of us…I want to see you as you truly are. My dragon. My Prince. Would you not like to make love to me as such, as you are,"

He couldn't deny her, not when she'd made it all sound so perfect…so right. Not when she spoke of wanting him so badly…wanting all of him, even the broken missing pieces of himself.

Aemond's jaw loosened instantly at her touch, her thumb softly stroking his lower lip as her fingers tilted his chin and guided him down to her lips. He could feel her raising her hips up to his, purposely dragging her wet opening against his hard length. Stoking the flames that had already been burning within him as her tongue languidly roved over his.

It was as if the world around them had begun to blur as her lips grew more wanting, ravenously taking ownership of him. It certainly seemed as if removing his sapphire had indeed unlocked something within his little wife. If that was the case, seeing how he'd given in to her wants, she'd seen him in a way few others had ever and ever would…now he'd take the rest.

At a quick glance, he eyed the eerily iridescent, piercing cool dark blue sapphire that still laid his hand, as if he was putting down a sliver of himself in that moment. He reached and laid it upon the pile of their clothing, instead grabbing ahold of his patch before finally devoting his full attention to the soft body that lay beneath him.

She wouldn't have noticed, not until he managed to draw both her arms up above her head and bind them together with his leather patch. By then Rhaena's eyes slid open, "my love, the bindings were not necessary. I would've been good, I planned on behaving for you," a slow smirk formed on her lips as he pulled himself back, just out of her lip’s reach.

"A risk I won't be taking," his eye burned into hers, "Nyke've issare olvie patient mirre skorkydoso, ñuha zaldrītsos. Yn iksan ēdrugī hen umbagon," I've been most patient anyhow, my little dragon. But I am tired of waiting , he nearly snarled, grazing his teeth along the delicate slope of her neck as his free hand slid down the soft curves of her waist then her hips. Gods, he was itching to sink into her again. He might have rushed it earlier today, tangled in silks and cotton cloths. It was a lament of his that he couldn't simply tear her gown from her then and appreciate every inch of her, something he couldn't exactly do atop Vhagar either, but he meant to remedy that now.

"Mmm skoros kessa gaomā lēda nyke pār, ñuha rōva zaldrīzes," what will you do with me then, my big dragon, her playful smile faded once his fingers slipped between her legs, causing a sweet little whimper to slip from her lips. What would he do with her , he had several ideas in mind. But he wanted her even wetter…he wanted her soaking. He allowed his long slender fingers to toy with her entrance, his thumb starting to torture her sensitive little pearl with the barest of touches.

Only this time he did not miss the opportunity to truly appreciate her, focusing on the way her skin shone in the fading breaks of moonlight and the deep orange flickers of the firelight. All the sweet panting gasps that fell from her lips as he dragged his tongue up the swell of her breast and flicked her pebbling nipple. He repeated the action with her other tit, before capturing her nipple in the heat of his mouth, lavishing her with the swirl of his tongue.

He fucking loved the way her legs tightened around him, the way her cunt quivered and moistened for him. His Princess was trying to fight her binds, but he kept his right hand securely around her wrists. Forcing her breasts to heave against his face with every shaky pleasurable breath she took.

Such a heavenly feeling, he couldn't help but excite himself with the thought of how her breasts would feel when they were heavy and filled with milk for their babe. How it might be to suckle them then, the thought was cut through with the sound of his dragoness' moans. The way she was begging him, the way her hips were writhing, trying desperately to get herself off on his hand.

The attempt itself was nearly admirable, but he couldn't allow it, every orgasm he gave her tonight needed to be caused by his cock. It was his goal, and he would make it so. Moving his hand swiftly and grasping onto her hip instead, he'd managed to slow her movements rather easily.

His eager little wife would be free to move once he was inside of her.

"It looks as if you no longer have any restraint for me, hmm," he teased, grinning up at her. A droning groan and a swift head shake had been his response from her. The look on her face had been all the more satisfying, the way her brows furrowed as she bit her lip in frustration. So beautiful, so perfect…so wanton just for him.

In an instant he covered her again, taking her lips needily as he slowly pressed his weeping tip against her dripping cunt, "mmm my little wife, so ready for me," he panted above her, breaking their kiss.

She was quick to nod vigorously, her eyes gazing deeply into his as she lowered her legs from his waist only to spread them wider for him, clearly she was ever so eager. It was unbelievable really, to think his grandfather would have had him settle for mediocrity when he had perfection in his grasp.

Finally sinking into her soft center felt beyond sublime, hot and burning like it should be with a true dragon. The arousing pleasure he felt stretching her nicely, his cock twitching as he sheathed himself inside her.

Rhaena's head had fallen back as she let loose a piercing moan for him, the sound alone had Aemond growling lowly as he began to pump into her. Drawing back almost entirely before thrusting his entire length back inside her. Her whimpers were so loud, desperate sobbing sounds that only served to embolden him. Especially with the way her legs sought to wrap around him, her feet curling with every thrust.

When he lowered himself back down over her, grazing his teeth along her neck, leaving a scattering of love bites in his wake, he'd only said the words, "my sweet little wife, taking me so well…barely any preparation at all, you're getting better," that alone made her made her little cunt even wetter for him. It was almost instantly, so much so Aemond marveled at the complete control and power he had over her body. Simple praise from him and on immediate impulse she melted for him.

"Oh…Aemond," that sultry tone yet again, the way she moaned his name posed real danger for him, the sound alone made him want to cum, and that was including the way her eyes had glazed over. The genuine affection in her eyes, the dreamy gaze she'd given him…he couldn't risk spilling himself so soon. Maybe he'd been wrong, maybe he would be able to last his usual amount rounds with her…but he'd be fucking damned if he came now.

He deserved to pull three orgasms from her at the very least. He'd taken one, he'd take two more.

With a swiftness that was only present when he was so aroused and wanting, he managed to pull himself from her, release the hold he had on her wrists to grab ahold of her hips and flip her onto her stomach.

Oh it was such a sight having her lay on her stomach for him, had this been earlier in the night he might have taken the time to press more kisses along her body, but now he could only think of fucking her. Sinking into her instantly, her gasping moan told him she loved the feeling as much as he did.

Taking her from behind wasn't something he normally did, he enjoyed watching her face when he pleased her, but this was a tantalizing sight he'd been missing out on. Her bottom so full and rounded bent over as he rammed himself into her, gripping harshly into the soft skin of her hips.

With her hands still binded, she managed to prop herself up on her elbows and forearms.

Her silky voice vibrated with every slam of his hips against her plush bottom, "harder, ñuha zaldrīzes!" harder, My dragon!

If that was his permission then he'd take it gladly. Setting a far more punishing pace, he made his thrusts brutal and spearing, aiming for her favoured spot with perfect precision.

Oh he could feel her peak coming, this was what he’d wanted. His ethereal Goddess crying his name aloud, desperately begging for his cock. He'd certainly blow his load if he didn't regain control of himself. But he knew how he could get it, he'd started by sinking his fingers into her curls, grabbing a hold of her and pulling, forcing her to scream as he fucked her.

Gods, his goddess sounded magnificent, such a perfect little whore for him.

She should've been his sooner…she should've been picked to be his bride all along. It was the biggest injustice that he nearly lost out on such a woman.

His very own Princess.

In that moment his mind had given him the idea for the perfect position, one so powerful all his love could possibly do is beg for him to let her reach her peak.

With her head pulled back, her teary eyes gazing up at him, Aemond released her hair and lifted her up by her hips. Repositioning her once again, he pulled her back up against his chest. With a quick swipe, he undid the binding of her wrists and allowed her to drape an arm over his shoulder as he hooked her right leg up into the crook of his right arm. At glance down, between the heaving mounds of her breasts and down the flat slope of her stomach, he could nearly just sweetly see the way his cock fit within her.

And then he ruined the silence once again, thrusting up into her to the sound of shrieking sob, his left hand stayed on her hip, until his attention was caught by the lovely sight of his member causing a bulge in her lower abdomen.

It was instantaneous, his hand moving from her hip to press down on the bulge, adding a sweet pressure for her as he stroked her most favoured spot.

And Gods, the sounds she made echoed throughout their little island here.

Her sob pierced through him like the most melodic cry he'd ever heard, and he was desperate to keep that sound. To think he'd had her in nearly every way he could ever desire, and yet it seemed he was still able to discover new sounds.

The way her body shivered and writhed, limbs wriggling and twisting as if the pleasure she was feeling was overwhelming her, "oh valzȳrys…ñuha zaldrīzes…I can't…I can't take much more," husband…my dragon. There it was again, his favourite tell tale sign that his little wife was enjoying herself. That moaning mix of Valyrian and the common tongue.

He couldn’t tell how long he’d been at this, but he was quite proud she’d managed to last as long as she had.

"Ao've gaomagon sȳrje, māzigon syt nyke, eman ao," you've done very well, come for me, I have you , he spoke tenderly nuzzling against her cheek as kept his punishing pace just for her release.

Little did she know, he was certain she was already cumming, he'd felt her slick, hot and wet coating his cock with each thrust, her core muscles threatening to squeeze his willpower away with ease. Aemond found himself groaning harshly against her shoulder, the exquisite pressure of her cunt closing around his throbbing member was almost too much to take. But he fought past it, watching as the ecstasy of her climax washed over her, the whimpering cry that fell from her lips made his heart thump warmly. Proudly even, especially once the rest of her body went limp against him, her nails digging into his shoulder as she still attempted to hold herself up with nonexistent energy.

But Aemond was quick to hold her hips against him, his dragoness was overstimulated, sated and drunk off her own pleasure. Gently, he lowered her back down onto the blanketed ground, he didn’t wish to keep her in such an upright position. Once they were both on the blanket, he laid himself down beside her, both of them laying on their sides. And like that he found himself just gazing at his Princess, listening to the sound of her soft breathless exhales, her eyelids heavy and fluttering closed. Running his hand along her smooth thigh, he slid his caress up the curve of her hip and down the sweet curve of her waist, he felt her shiver beneath his touch, and watched the faint little smile that graced lips. In a matter of seconds, he’d pulled her against him, leaning over nuzzling his nose against hers, he simply whispered, “are you ready for one more,”

With a groan she shook her head, her hand reaching up to cup his scarred cheek as she ghosted her lips against his. Her voice was breathy and faint, “my love...I don’t think I can do it,”

Aemond smirked, pressing a warm kiss against her lips as he pulled her flush against him, for her to feel how much he still wanted and needed her, “you wouldn't leave your dragon so hard and wanting would you, little wife.”

Rhaena whined deeply, exhaling heavily through her nostrils as if she was fighting an internal battle, in the end, she’d simply lift her leg over up drape it over his hip, wrapping her arms around his neck as she readied herself. Her pale violet eyes gazed deeply into his with an intensity he was not prepared for, “gūrogon nyke, ñuha zaldrīzes. Dīnagon iā rūs isse nyke,” take me, my dragon. Put a babe in me.

Mmm, oh he certainly would.

He wasted no time sliding his thick length into her welcoming cunt, still dripping from her recent orgasm, with one swift movement he was able to thrust into her with ease. A lovely scratchy whimper tore from her throat as he fucked her without mercy, he wasn’t holding back this time and look in her eyes told him she did not want him to. Her hands grappled onto him just as his hand dug into the soft flesh of her hips, guiding her writhing body against his as he felt her own pleasure rising up once again.

She was magnificent, somehow in this moment he was beginning to feel that same overwhelming all-encompassing soaring pleasure he’d felt when he’d taken her upon Vhagar. It wasn’t the exact but it felt beyond what was coursing through him just moments ago, it was ravenous and needy, yes but this…the way his blood was burning, sizzling and sparking. Vhagar was calling to him, as he growled and groaned into the crook of Rhaena’s neck, he could feel his link to his bonded mount. His body and soul was in sync with his Princess’ while his bonded-spirit had clearly been feeling everything he was.

“Aemond…jurnegon rȳ nyke…Nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon ao skori ao māzigon,” Aemond...look at me...I wish to see you when you cum , he’d heard the begging whine from her so clearly. And it was then that he realized he’d somewhat been inadvertently avoiding keeping her gaze this evening, not that he’d avoided it entirely, he’d looked her in the eyes…he just hadn’t kept her gaze for very long.

Rhaena wouldn’t let him decide though, she rather immediately pulled and tugged his hair enough to pull his face in front of hers. Where her pale violet eyes, all illuminated by firelight, both stopped his heart and started it all at once. It was the surging force that had pushed him over the edge, the look in her fierce eyes, the want, the pure unadulterated love they held for him. She wanted to gaze at him as he was, vulnerable and missing, this was what pleased her most of all.

His body was on fire, his heart primed to burst, and all the while her rocking hips kept their pace against his. Every thrust felt like it could be his last, the obscene squelching of their arousal had

grown louder…she was close, so close…he just needed her release.

And once he got it, her desperate cry paired with her nails scraping deliciously against his scalp and back, his fingers bruising her hips as his grip tightened and hardened. A final growl shredded its way out of him as he finally spilled himself within her, her cunt already clenching and pulling, milking the last of few drops of his seed from him. All the while he kept his gaze on her and her eyes, getting lost in the swirling lavender and lilac of her eyes, his body erupting in a heat that poured like molten lava all throughout.

Wild yet quenching, fucking had never felt quite like that before.

By the time he’d managed to slip his cock from her clutches and lay on his back, it seemed as if the world was spinning. Dizzy and hazy, he was breathing so heavily, oxygen barely reaching his lungs. This position was far less exerting and yet he felt even more exhausted than had previously. But even so, Aemond didn’t wait to catch his breath entirely before pulling his Princess up against him. Wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head and chest against his chest. Her soft breaths ghosted over his skin as her curls spilled over his chest, she felt so soft and warm against him. So safely snuggled in his arms as she hugged herself closer, nuzzling her cheek against him.

“Are you satisfied now, my love,” Rhaena hummed as her fingers rubbed his chest softly, her bright eyes happily flicking up to gauge his reaction.

His sweet Princess…his sweet wife…he’d get to do this as often as they wished now. She was his to hold and love and protect, all his. He no longer needed to count the days, she was his in every way that mattered…every way possible.

A dream come true made real by his own determination to have her…possess her like no other.

With a small nod, he quietly smirked, “entirely.”

Instinctively, he caressed her smooth back in soothing circles, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the sweet creamy scent that floated from her hair. Calming himself instantly before he laid back as he gazed up at the night sky. Those storm clouds from earlier had swarmed closer, floated down from the heavens and in all honesty they looked primed to burst. In all likelihood, they’d get rained on, they’d certainly be drenched if they stayed here. Quite literally dampening his plans to stay the night here, but he supposed it mattered not. They had their romantic getaway , away from everyone and anyone who might disturb them, he’d had his Princess all to himself in the most beautiful ways possible.

If they had to leave now, the only portion of the night that was left was to truly fall asleep…and that, they could do inside the castle if need be.

Aemond wasn’t keen on moving from this comfortable position just yet though, even though he knew they needed to. Rhaena, he was certain, would whine about having to move now. But maybe she’d hate being rained on more.

With a soft budge, he whispered against her hair, “the storm will be upon us soon, I think we’ll have to continue this in our chambers,”

There was a tell-tale groan that accompanied her sigh, “what if it’s only a drizzle?”

“It’s certainly not a drizzle ,” he responded crisply as his eye caught a flash of lightning, and as he thought to mention it, there rang a clashing roar of thunder in the distance. It was enough to startle her against him, enough to make him chuckle.

She hadn’t needed much more convincing after that.

Quickly they pulled themselves up and dressed, Aemond refitted his Sapphire, as he didn’t wish to carry it in his pocket and possibly lose it…or worse yet really, he didn’t wish to stumble upon any occupants who were still awake when they returned to the castle, without it in.

Once everything was gathered, Aemond nearly considered the thought of putting out their fire…something he quickly decided would be unnecessary as the rain began to splutter down. It was light for only a moment…and then it poured with pressure.

“Get to Vhagar, I’m right behind you!” he yelled over the sound of crashing thunder and the splashing torrential rainstorm. He watched as she nodded, squinting in the darkness as the moon was now covered, their firelight gone, in the pale strikes of lightning they could just barely make out Vhagar’s enormous mass of a shadow below the bank. It seemed his mount was keen to help them, rumbling a deep roar into the sky with a burst of bright hot flames.

The rain wouldn’t bother Aemond, sure it was uncomfortable to remain drenched in one’s own clothes, hair stuck and slicked against his face and back. But storms had never scared him, he always enjoyed the brutal beauty nature presented in its chaos. Especially on dragonback, flying in a storm was exhilarating. Incredibly dangerous and risky, but the adrenaline boost alone was enough to fuel any Targaryen.

They’d managed to climb Vhagar rather quickly all things considered, Rhaena had only slipped a couple of times, but he’d managed to catched her easily and guide her the rest of the way. When they were settled securely, his wife tucked between his legs as he held onto her tightly…then and only then did Aemond utter the command, "Sōvēs, Vhagar," fly, Vhagar .

☾

If Aemond spent the entire flight back to the castle cackling and flying with slight reckless abandon all while his wife clutched onto him and screamed during every dive and surge that Vhagar performed…well…he’d just have to hope for her forgiveness. In King’s Landing storms were a sparse occurrence, and when they did roll around they certainly were not of this caliber. Each thunderclap sounded so incredibly close, each lightning strike struck from above in perfectly timed strikes that surrounded them, causing Aemond and Vhagar to weave around and anticipate where they’d next appear.

It was all so thrilling!

Though, once they’d landed on the Dragon Mound’s field, both running for the cover of the secret tunnel entrance, Aemond took Rhaena’s hand to pull her in as quickly as possible.

By then, Aemond realized just how much his beloved had not enjoyed that flight.

“That was horrifying! The most frightening flight I’ve ever been on,” Rhaena was ranting and raving at this point, “and you! You were enjoying it…that…that deadly murderous storm…well…of course you did, I don’t know I expected anything else…”

He didn’t bother to inject, instead he leaned himself against the stone wall of the cave and let her talk herself out. Either way it was rather amusing, the way she animatedly shook at pointed at him, and then the slight shivers her body gave off as the storm’s wet breeze blew, snapping him back into action.

They’d forgotten her cloak back on the island, not that it would have been of any use now, it would have been just as soaked as everything they had on now.

But her teeth were faintly chattering and her voice had begun to vibrate with it, so with a sigh, he quickly gathered her into his embrace despite her minor protests, “would you rather stand here complaining and screaming at me, or would rather dry off and warm yourself by a fire, getting into our cozy bed together.”

The answer was obvious, he’d all but handed her the clear decision.

“Well…I can still complain and scream at you once we're in bed you know,” she grinned, pressing herself against him.

A genuine smile befell his lips then as he caressed a few of her damp curls away from her forehead and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, “fair enough, I’d still rather you do it there than here. You’re clearly freezing, and I’d rather not lose my wife so quickly.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she giggled, pushing off of him as she stepped around him. She’d stop only a few steps ahead, turning back towards him with an outstretched hand for him to take.

One he took happily.

Letting her lead them as they rounded the many twists and turns that Rhaena knew by heart, the tunnels were pitch black, with neither a candle between them, Aemond relied on his dragoness’ memory of these tunnels to not lead them astray. He hadn’t doubted her, she’d grown up in this castle afterall, he knew she knew these tunnels like the back of her hand and soon enough they’d arrived back into a corridor on the lower levels. One that was far more familiar and recognizable, one that thankfully had several torches still lit to maneuver around with. From there they slipped into another tunnel, this one had a narrow staircase that wound its way around to Dragon’s nest .

A stronghold, the area of the castle where their chambers, along with the rest of their royal family’s, barring Otto and Alicent Hightower of course, resided. They could reach that main hall and then walk the rest of the way past the Gold Cloaks who guarded the main entrance.

As usual, the hallway was lit with a row of torches, the bright orange flames had spilled flickering light into the tunnel as they neared the exit, lighting their way as they finally stepped out into the hallway.

*clank*

It was faint, but Aemond had heard it.

In an instant, he grabbed Rhaena and pulled back against his chest, halting her quickly as he slid her around him so she could stand behind him. His eye scanned their surroundings carefully, they were standing in the middle of a vacant hallway, there were only two ways to look…and both sides seemed to be clear.

“What-” she’d started but stopped-

*clank*

There it was again, from the right…in the distance…there was a shadow.

Something quick…but it was there.

And Rhaena had seen it too, now clutching onto the back of his damp shirt as she eyed the corner in the distance just as he was. Aemond had brought his sword earlier, and was quite glad he had now. He couldn’t be certain, whoever lurked down the hall…down in the direction opposite of Dragon Nest. Down towards the servants staircase…the torches were not lit in that corner…very specifically extinguished, Aemond might’ve added.

This was an ambush .

Of that he was certain, it was as clear as day.

*clank*

The shadow was advancing…no… shadows .

Fuck, there were several of them. This smelled of his grandfather, Otto Hightower never accepted defeat if he could help it. Even now at the hour of the wolf, with a rainstorm still raging just outside…Aemond’s grandfather sought to ruin his wedding day.

It’d almost been the perfect day.

He should have expected as much.

“Aemond,” his wife whispered behind him, “their figures…they look like knights… King’s Guards not Gold Cloaks.”

He felt his jaw tighten as fucking Criston Cole emerged from the shadows with Ser Willis Fell and Ser Rickard Thorne closely behind. Along with three other unrecognizable servants…hired brutes, who were all various shapes. Bulky and well-formed, slim, lanky and tall, stout and rotund. But they mattered very little to him, no the smug look upon Cole’s face was enough to make Aemond’s blood boil on its own, the mere fact that this lowly knight thought himself so noble and righteous, so correct in his view of the world.

The five men only halted themselves once Cole stood front and center, toe to toe with Aemond.

Aemond had his hand hovering over the handle of his blade ever since he’d seen them off in the distance, but now he was ready to draw it.

They were still not close enough to the stronghold to be seen by any Gold Cloaks, that was surely why Cole had planned to intercept here…a blindspot.

“Do you have any idea what you are doing, Cole,” Aemond gritted darkly, a fire raging just beneath the surface of his eye, “you’re acting on the wishes of a bitter foolish old man. He wishes to stoke the flames of a war no one of true power or importance wants. Be smart for once in your life, let this go. Leave now, and I will not speak of it.”

It was a fair offer, in fact, it was far more than any of these men deserved.

And maybe Aemond felt merciful enough to make the offer at least as his wife was presently with him. And though she knew of bloodshed and violence, he also knew his Princess well. She was no sword fighter, she did not lust for blood or violence or to cause pain and wreckage. If this fight were to begin, this would be far more gruesome than a simple singular execution like her father had done to her great-uncle Vaemond. If he could help it, he’d rather she not see this, all jests aside she was indeed still a prim and proper Princess.

But if Cole sought to push this…then Aemond would do what was necessary.

“My Prince, your grandfather is the only one seeing clearly,” Criston spoke smugly, as if he were explaining the obvious to a petulant child, “Aegon is the rightful heir, the first born son, how could you stand behind anyone else but your own brother…your own blood.”

“Fuck off, Cole! You realize I am a Targaryen, or are you blind and stupid. The entire royal family that currently rests in this castle right now, counts as my blood. Rhaenyra is my blood, she is the heir,” Aemond spat, how many times would he have to reaffirm this, he wasn’t entirely fond of the options but he’d be damned if he ever backed Aegon as King, “you want Aegon on the throne so badly, he’s a fucking drunk who can barely lift his sword. But that’s your King, the man who stumbles out of bed at half-day passed, hungover, tripping and forever exhausted, he can barely remember which Lords hail from where. But he will lead you in this war to come, will he? You’re all so fucking disgusting.”

Cole’s nostrils were flaring, his jaw grinding furiously as his hand flexed over his sword. Ser Fell looked just as determined, clearly he really believed in this cause, though the same could not be said for Ser Thorne. He’d be their weak link, the fool who let himself get roped up and dragged along to commit an act of treason, for a cause he clearly did not fully believe in. The servants… peasants who were enticed by some coin to be sure.

There were only six of them in total, sizing them all up, Aemond knew he could take them. The three servants would be easily slayed, as most likely they would have little if any formal training. Ser Thorne as well, with how nervous and distracted he seemed to be, eyeing exits as if he wished to escape this horrid plan just like Aemond had offered all of them to.

“Prince Aemond you must step away from the Princess, no harm will come to her, but you must come with us,” Ser Fell gruffly spoke, as if he deigned to be the diplomat of the group.

At the mention of his Princess , Aemond’s protective arm moved to block her further from the men in front of them, “no harm would come to her anyhow because you’d lose your arm if not your life the moment you tried.”

“Enough of this,” Cole moved to step forward but Aemond immediately matched the movement, causing the knight to simply stand his ground, “you are to let us escort you to Vhagar, you are to fly to Storm’s End-”

Oh fucking hell.

Their ridiculous little plan hadn’t even been altered considering the circumstances. Aemond found himself letting loose a rather manical mirthless cackle, “you’re right about one thing, Cole. I have had enough of this,” within a millisecond Aemond had drawn his sword. A move that made Cole and Fell draw their own, the servants pulled daggers…and Thorne…he remained still. His hands by his side, he did not even attempt to reach for his blade.

Coward…mmm…but his cowardice could be useful now.

Behind him he felt Rhaena pat herself vigorously, searching for her own dagger assumably…something she did not bring with her, which lead to her rather quietly cursing to herself in a huff, “fuck, I knew I should have brought it.”

He might’ve smirked, once again he should have expected as much, of course his dragoness would wish to protect herself just as equally.

“I’m not going with you, Cole, Fell…any of you,” Aemond sighed, now resigned to the fact that he would have to run each man threw, “the plan is foolish, beyond fucking asinine.The most ill-conceived plot I’ve ever heard. Besides the fact that it’s violently storming outside, what makes you think I won’t simply command Vhagar to devour you once you escort me to her. What would your puny blades do to my dragon, hmm?”

Both Cole and Fell shared a look as if they somehow just realized they’d overlooked the most obvious hole in their plot.

They truly were morons.

“Ser Rickard Thorne,” Rhaena’s sweet courtly voice echoed out from behind Aemond, “you clearly do not wish to be apart of this. Should you stay, Aemond will either kill you himself or you’ll be found guilty of treason and executed all the same. But you can escape with a lighter sentence if you leave now, warn my parents, warn the Queen…do your actual duty.”

Where Aemond’s earlier offer had failed to yield results, it seemed his wife’s clear voice had rang true with the unsteady Knight. With a nod and a bow, Ser Thorne swiftly slipped away from his comrades before they could stop him and hurried past Aemond and Rhaena, down the hall in search of Daemon and Rhaenyra... Aemond supposed he'd head to the Queen’s separate quarters afterwards.

In the short lull, Cole and Fell sent the servants to attack.

Those three were a sorry excuse for warriors … mercenaries …no they were simply servants with weapons, and they fought as such. Aemond had pushed Rhaena back, as he quickly circled around the three and one by one dispatched of them all. A simple side step as he slashed across the belly of the first servants, with an added spin, Aemond swiftly slit the man's throat and basked in the blood that splattered across his face.

That minor thrill for violence had been awakened and he craved for more. Watching as the other two servants began to hesitate, their grip on their blade loosening as they looked at one another and stepped back slightly. Second guessing their choices, but it meant nothing to Aemond. Their lives ended the moment they chose to stand against him, the moment they chose to pull blades on a Crown Prince such as himself. He had no room for mercy, not anymore. But he'd done them the service of making it quick, stabbing one clean through his gut before lopping off his head and then simply beheading the last man as he all but begged for mercy.

With a flourish, Aemond flipped and skillfully twirled his sword in his hand, flicking the unworthy blood from his blade as he cracked his neck and took a real stance, “you dishonour me, Cole. The fact you bothered to hire such lowly trash to face me, you should have known better. I’ve bested you enough times for you to have brought me an actual challenge.”

That had been the final straw, Cole finally lunged at Aemond, bringing his sword down with force and great strength. Aemond quickly instinctively blocked it with his own blade, a regretful decision he soon realized as Cole may have been slashing wildly with real rage and fury, but it was meant to be a distraction.

“Aemond!” Rhaena’s piercing scream had caught him just in time.

He’d barely dodged the swinging slash Fell had aimed at his head. They sought to kill him, it seemed, if they couldn’t bring him willingly, it seemed they’d rather not bring him at all…which was just as foolish on their part.

Grandfather wanted Aemond to wield Vhagar as Otto’s own personal weapon.

And that's when it dawned on him.

This wasn’t his grandfather’s plan.

No no, the plan itself was originally his, but this…this sloppy slapdash execution. Otto would never have selected Ser Thorne for a plot like this, he would have made sure everything was airtight. He would have had failsafes, alternatives and reserves in place…this was not his doing. Aemond would not believe Otto Hightower had given up entirely, but he was not behind this attack at the very least.

It was Cole…acting on his own accord. His own desperate need to place Aegon on the throne and stay in the company of Aemond’s mother as her sworn lapdog .

Fighting off two opponents at once had forced Aemond to think more impulsively, he couldn’t plan too many steps ahead like he did in his usual one on one sparring matches.

But in this case, he would not need to. He knew Cole well enough, he knew how he moved, how he fought, what he favoured.

When Cole swung high, Aemond took care to duck and swivel as Fell’s blade thrusted and aimed for Aemond's stomach. Both knights worked to exhaust him, attacking from his flanks, aiming where the other was not, Aemond was indeed at a disadvantage.

But he had his own advantages as well, they were bulkier, slower, their armour weighed them down. A damp silk shirt and simple breeches did not provide much protection for Aemond and everyone present knew it.

So he’d have to utilize his speed, hopping over one of the dead servants, Aemond slipped under a wide wild slash Fell made from his right side, before twirling away from Cole’s blade and catching Fell’s unguarded left side. The knight expected Aemond to slice upwards where his protective armour would have saved him, but instead Aemond sliced down, the gap between his lower abdomen and his leg plates was the perfect place to strike. Slashing down and across the knight's lower abdomen, relishing the added spray of blood that already coated him from his previous kills. Fell screamed as he dropped to his knees, clutching his wound, it was severe, but it would not kill him…not yet at least. Finally Aemond pointed his blade at the knight’s throat, forcing a surrender out of the man.

“Drop your sword, Prince Aemond,” Cole panted…but he was nowhere near Aemond.

Suddenly a cold shiver ran down Aemond's spine, slowly he stood up straight, turning to follow the sound.

His jaw clenched instantly, his eye only seeing red, the fucking cunt, he had Rhaena pinned against the wall, his own sword pointing straight at her throat. Aemond would never make it in time even if he tried to run to her.

FUCK.

He should have told her to run, he should have covered her while she snuck back into tunnels and she could’ve retrieved her parents and stayed away from all this…she could have been safe and out of harm's way.

It was his duty to protect her, it was…a necessity to keep her safe. He needed her safe, he could not fathom a world where she was not here with him.

“You promised no harm would come to my wife,” Aemond seethed, Gods it sounded pathetic, but he needed to buy more time. Whether Thorne truly went to retrieve Daemon and Rhaenyra was unknown, and either way Aemond didn't wish to rely on that.

He'd save his wife all on his own, because he had to…because he needed to.

“NO!,” Cole sounded erratic, his shrill voice cutting through the silence like jagged edges of glass, blood was seeping through his weighted under cover, it seemed Aemond had nicked him in their little back and forth, “fucking Fell said that, I did not. I could care less what happens to any spawn of Daemon’s . Besides, if I kill her…you’d be free to fulfill your duty to your true family. With no distractions, no impediments, nothing and no one holding you here. Why you want this girl so badly is beyond me, surely she is a pretty girl, but are looks all you care for my Prince?”

Fucking cunt.

Aemond’s heart was racing, he was brimming with adrenaline and pure dragon’s fire. He wanted to run Criston Cole through and be done with him, he wanted him dead, he wanted him tortured and skewered for even daring to touch Rhaena. He didn’t care about Fell or Thorne, if his sister and mother wished to pardon them, fuck it, who cares…but Cole, no. Cole needed the pain, he needed to die, he wouldn’t let his mother absolve the unhinged man this time.

Aemond’s eye was scanning for every possible way he could save his Princess, the dead servants bodies scattered the floor, but he could race up along the edge and reach Cole fast enough…but would it be fast enough.

No, he would be fast enough, he needed to be fast enough, he could not lose her. Not here, not now and especially not to fucking Criston Cole.

Just an hour ago…he’d thought today might have been the best day of his life, he held it quite close to the morning his dragoness told him that she loved him…to the first time he could see just how much she wanted him…just in her eyes. Rhaena was more than just his wife now, she symbolized everything to him. Everything he could ever want in one person, she was his happiness, she was his future…he could not separate any of that from her.

He’d never recover if anything were to happen to her.

He’d unleash hell on earth for her…and even then he would not be satisfied. He never wished to experience that level of darkness…hollow heartbreak. He could not turn into the hollow man his father had become after the loss of his first wife…his true love.

No, there’d be no world in which he allowed it to happen.

In a glance, he saw his Princess eyeing him, Aemond almost moved but he held fast. Watching as she motioned with her eyes towards Cole and then back to Aemond, she was going to do something…a distraction? Even in a moment like this, his plotting little Princess did not cow.

It could work, Cole had made the order for Aemond to ‘drop his sword’ , but he only glanced back at Aemond periodically, the knight’s main focus remained on Rhaena. With that in mind, Aemond waited for Cole to glance back at him, “I mean it, my Prince. Drop the blade!”

“So you can kill my wife? You really are an imbecile if you think I’ll simply oblige,” Aemond snarled, glancing down at Fell who lay on the floor now quietly bleeding out. His own sword still in hand, Aemond knew what he’d do.

He gave a nod to his dragoness.

Aemond kicked Fell’s blade out of his hand, the loud clatter giving the illusion that Aemond himself had finally done what Cole wanted. Surrendered.

In that moment of slight confusion, quick as ever, Rhaena spat in Cole’s face while simultaneously curling her hand into a fist, punching his left cheek, forcing the knight to step back. Taken off guard, Cole wiped his face before he began growling, moving to thrust his blade, “say goodbye to your whore of a wife-”

Aemond was quick, bolting along the edge of the hall’s wall, finally making it in reach of the knight. He should have simply speared his sword through the man's throat, decapitated him like he truly wished to.

…but like he thought previously, he wanted this man to suffer. Even more so now for calling his wife a fucking whore while he held a blade to her throat.

All of his rage coursing in him, Aemond tossed his sword from his right hand to his left and let his right hand curl into a fist, throwing a biting punch. Hitting Cole square in the jaw, knocking the older man back several steps. Aemond had been proud to see his Lady hit the knight as well, but Aemond would prefer to truly wound him. In that spare moment, he could only spare his wife a quick overlook, just to see if she was well. There he noticed the tip of Cole’s blade had indeed nicked her throat just barely, a faint trickle of blood had dripped and dried down the center of her throat, gathering in the dip of her collarbone. Small as the wound was, it only enraged him more, as he turned to face Criston Cole, he dodged an incoming slash from the man.

He dares to still swing at me , Aemond thought, very well .

The dragon within him had certainly wide awake now, fire made flesh he moved in what felt like a blur. Dodging Cole’s thrust from the left, swirling around and slashing down with every bit of force he possessed. It happened in an instant, Aemond had severed the fingers that held Cole’s sword.

The guttural scream that tore from the knight as he clutched his wrist, dark blood spewing and gushing from his hand as his sword rattled and it hit the floor in a clatter.

That scream, Cole’s deep and feral howls all sounded so delicious, the terror…the pain. It fueled Aemond, fed the dragon that lived within him, the one that called for violence and chaos, for fire and blood. In the knight’s moment of weakness, Aemond reached and grabbed him by the neck, eye to eye at the same height and level, he forced the older man down to his knees as Aemond pointed his blade down at Cole's throat.

For once that man was finally where he belonged, on his knees in the presence of royalty, in the presence of dragons.

Aemond twirled his sword, away from Criston Cole’s neck, foolishly the knight seemed to think Aemond would grant him leniency of some sort, as if he deserved it…as if he was owed it. He watched gleefully as the sworn sword gritted and groaned, deep crimson blood bubbling and pouring from his fingerless hand and onto the stone floor. Cole seemed to be working his mouth to move, as if he wished to speak, but before Cole could bother to spew anymore bile, Aemond quickly grabbed him roughly, a vice grip around his throat, leaning down over him, “you will die for this and I will make it agonizing. Your title means nothing to me, you will suffer. It was a fucking mistake ever allowing you to live all those years ago. Low level scum that you are, you really thought to pull a blade on me , on my wife! You dared to cut her…her precious royal skin…you dared to lay your filthy fucking hands upon her. No, I want you to feel every bit of this,” he sneered.

“You will doom us all,” Criston choked, “you cannot choose this…you cannot choose her-” Cole’s spiel was cut short as Aemond’s sword tipped cooly lengthwise underneath the knight's chin.

“ Aemond! …” it was his beloved this time, he could hear her so faintly, so muffled and muddled as if he’d been submerged under ice cold water and everything and everyone else that surrounded him existed in some far away place…a different existence.

She sounded miles away even though he knew she was only a few steps behind him.

That wasn’t what annoyed him though.

No, he’d entered a mode he could not and would not leave willingly. She had to know what Cole had done here tonight could not stand…she had to understand just how terrified he’d been at the thought of losing her just moments ago.

She did not have to watch this, but Cole had to pay.

But, fuck…it was in her tone, that soft pleading she did whenever she wanted him to listen to her…whenever she wanted him to stop .

Not now…he didn’t wish to listen to that soft voice now. She deserved justice….maybe it was him who needed justice, he needed savagery…pain and brutality.

“Aemond, please,” she tried again, now she was stepping towards him, towards the unravelled beast he’d unleashed for her…for the mayhem…for the pleasure he took in fighting and killing, “you cannot kill him...not like this. He’s a sworn knight. Your parents’ sworn knight. Your parents…and mine…they must make the final decision of what happens to him and Ser Fell. This is not a simple situation.”

"Rhaena…" Aemond breathed heavily, his chest still heaved with his shoulders as he took haggard breaths. He could not turn to meet her gaze, his glare remained pinned to the kneeling knight before him.

It was infuriating, of course he knew her words to be true, but he didn’t care at that moment. It wouldn’t have mattered, if he slayed Cole here and now, he’d face a verbal lashing at most. By the end, his actions would be seen as just given the circumstances and Cole being only a fucking knight, would not matter.

They’d simply replace him, Aemond was a Prince of the realm he’d face no real consequence.

“What the fuck is going on!” a voice called from the deserted hallway.

It was Daemon…unmistakably so.

It seemed Aemond would not get his answer or be allowed to dole out his preferred punishment just yet, by his guess, it sounded as if his uncle had just rounded the corner and was making his way over to them at his usual casual yet fearsome pace.

Daemon looked particularly menacing as he stalked his way down the hall, now in sight beneath the flickering torches that lined the hall, Dark Sister was clearly already drawn and dragging, scrapping and screeching the stone floors for what seemed like added effect. His long pale Targaryen blonde hair flowed unbound, his grey silken shirt untied…he looked as if his slumber had been disturbed, beyond irritated and soon to be furious when he properly arrived on the scene.

A dragon of Old ready to spit fire and tear his victims apart, he looked rageful, he truly looked like what his moniker had always implied…The Rogue Prince. Stalking the halls for prey to satiate his bloodlust.

Behind him but at a bit of a distance, both Rhaenyra and Alicent also made their way over in a rush. Rhaenyra with a hand on her swollen belly as she ambled over as quick as she was able, while Aemond's mother had kept her pace with Rhaenyra as she certainly wasn’t able to catch up to Daemon just yet.

Aemond could see it all, their parents all convening here, taking in this sight of blood and gore. Two sworn members of the King’s Guards lay bleeding…well one was whimpering like a child now. The three servants' bodies, sliced and severed…and surrounded by it all…there stood Aemond Targaryen at the center of it. His sword still pointed and aimed towards Criston Cole’s throat as the man sniveled and whined over his severed hand.

When Daemon finally took in the sight, he followed the blood, followed the bodies all the way to Aemond and Rhaena. Scrutinizing for only a moment before his gaze softened, in four long strides he’d managed to reach them. His first priority was to check after his daughter, sheathing his sword, he placed his hands on her shoulders and scanned her for any bruises or wounds. Tilting her chin when he noticed the miniscule slit on her throat, she was quick to place a comforting hand over her father’s, reassuring him, “Iksan sȳz, kepa. Nyke kivio iksan unharmed” I am fine, father . I promise I am unharmed. Her words were soft and she knew speaking them in Valyrian would let them sink in truly for her father.

For a while there, Aemond kept waiting for Rhaena to step away from him. When her father came, he was sure she would fall into his embrace and step away from the monstrous man who’d simply murdered three, possibly five men without any remorse. In fact he’d enjoyed a great deal of it, relished in it, drank it in as life’s blood and felt his lust for it all nearly quenched. But even still, here she stood. Yes she clearly took comfort in her father’s presence, but when he was done, she leaned herself against Aemond. Looping her arm around his as she rested her cheek on his bicep just below his shoulder.

His dragoness.

What had also surprised him was the weighted feel of a hand on his other shoulder, it was Daemon’s. At a glance, he realized a mix of emotions had flashed in his uncle’s eyes. From slight concern…for Aemond’s well being…that was odd, there was a flash of casual relief, and finally something that Aemond dared to think looked like pride.

Whether he was proud of him as a nephew or as a Good-son protecting the older man’s precious daughter…well Aemond couldn’t distinguish it and he wouldn’t attempt to. He’d just take it for what it was. He'd seen the look once before now, the day he'd won the tourney…it may have been safe to assume that the look was certainly a look of pride.

“You can sheath your sword, nephew,” Daemon finally spoke, “I shall handle this from here."

It was a bit of a bitter pill to swallow, but as his sanity began to slowly reconnect within himself, Aemond knew the smarter choice would be to heed his uncle in this moment. To try and claim Cole's life as his own to take now, he'd most likely have to fight Daemon to be granted it…and that wasn't a fight Aemond felt up to at the moment.

There was the added fact that Aemond already knew of the rivalry between his uncle and Criston Cole…it was less of a rivalry and more of just pure mutual hatred. If anyone would understand the need for Cole's demise it would be Daemon. To say there was a clear hint of joy in his uncle’s voice when he’d said the words, his face smirking with an equally sinister sense of gratification as he unsheathed Dark Sister yet again and slid the point underneath Cole’s chin. A cold shiver had coursed throughout the knight’s body at the clear sight of Daemon standing over him now.

Once both mothers arrived and checked after their children, the question he’d long since expected had finally been asked by his mother, “what in The Father’s name…what has happened?”

Rhaenyra only echoed the sentiment, “Ser Rickard Thorne came running to us in the middle of the night, he said you both were in danger, that Ser Cole was the cause.”

For what felt like the first time in ages, Aemond finally tore his eye away from Cole completely, meeting his mother and sister’s gaze properly instead just glancing at them from the corner of his eye. With his jaw still clenching and grinding, he pulled himself straight just as Rhaena tightened the loop she had around his arm. She cleared her throat as she eyed their mothers, “it was Ser Cole. And Ser Fell and initially Ser Thorne as well. But Ser Thorne was persuaded to act according to his duty and he fled to inform you all before anything truly happened.”

At a glance, Rhaena had glared down at the broken bleeding whimpering mess that was now Ser Cole, Ser Fell at very least had managed to keep his groaning to a minimum like a true knight of the realm who still carried some sense of dignity.

“But I do believe Ser Cole orchestrated this, he led the attack, he bribed these servants,” Rhaena continued, her body clung closer to Aemond’s when she mentioned the deceased servants but her voice remained leveled, “he deserves to face the full punishment for his actions.”

Diplomatic as always, his little wife.

Rhaenyra sighed heavily, stretching out a hand for Rhaena to take. Rhaena would, but she managed to pull Aemond along with her. The murderous trance he’d fallen under finally eased and faded clear as his elder sister gently cupped his cheek with a warm hand. The soft gesture had been paired with a warm motherly expression, one that startled him back just slightly. Then his own mother moved in closer then, softly holding his available wrist, her face riddled with deep concern and worry as her furrowed brows prodded him non-verbally. She wanted to hear his words on the matter…he wanted to finish Cole off.

“It is true,” Aemond finally bit back, his eye returning to Cole’s kneeling form on the floor, he hadn’t realized just how heavily he’d been breathing until he felt Rhaena’s hand comfortably rub and squeeze his forearm, allowing him to continue speaking, “I believe Cole orchestrated this on his own, it was unorganized and easily dispatched. He was irate, and he tried to wound if not kill my wife. He deserves to be executed.”

“No!” Cole yelled, but immediately gritted then cried as Daemon stepped closer.

“You fucking dared to touch my daughter! That cut on her neck, that was you!” Daemon boomed, "I think my daughter and nephew are right, what you've done calls for an execution, no one need worry, I’ll be quick,” Daemon was a beacon of fury, Dark Sister was placed beside Cole’s Adam's apple and that was when the threat suddenly slid into reality.

Daemon's sword moved swiftly…

And then it was done.

Like a moment suspended in time, Aemond heard his sister and his mother scream.

“Daemon, no!” Rhaenyra had spoken firmly.

“Daemon!” Alicent shrieked.

But the slice came swiftly, clean and smooth, Criston Cole's head was easily severed from his body.

In the moment, Aemond had felt the moment Rhaena hid her face against his arm, a small gasp escaped her as she squeezed her eyes shut for just a few minutes. Reflexively, his arms surrounded her, but Aemond had his eye on Cole's lifeless body slumping over as it crumpled down onto the stone floor…down with the others…laid in a pool of his own blood.

And with that…Aemond's chest felt slightly lighter. He supposed it would be a bittersweet victory, he'd wanted to hear the knight cry in agony as he finally realized the error of his decisions. He wanted Cole to suffer…to bleed out slowly and die from the exhaustion and the pain.

Daemon had made it quick. Much like he had with Vaemond Velaryon, Dark Sister sliced with precision and their lives were cut short immediately.

But at least the cunt was dead.

"Fucking hell," Rhaenyra sighed, her fingers squeezing the bridge of her nose.

"Daemon…" Alicent gasped, shock and horror clearly evident in her wide eyes, "what…what have you done, he was a member of the King's Guard! He deserved a trial at least."

“This was his trial ," Daemon cooly responded, cleaning the fresh blood from his blade with a swift flick and wipe against his pants leg before he slickly sheathed his sword.

Rhaenyra only made a quick glance towards her former sworn sword, pursing her lips as her face settled into one of resolution, "it matters not, it is done now. Criston Cole had threatened royalty, he threatened a Crown Prince and Princess. Trial or no, the sentence would have been execution anyhow."

It was true, a fact everyone present here clearly knew and understood…though it seemed Aemond’s own mother was determined to remain blind to it.

"Rhaenyra-" Alicent had started.

“Alicent," Rhaenyra was quick to interject, she did not sound particularly harsh but her voice certainly lacked any sense of sympathy, “he attacked our children, acted on treasonous plots, attempted to harm my daughter and your son…I do believe he faced the correct punishment. He’s escaped it before, but thankfully…not this time.”

Daemon came around to place a gentle hand on Rhaena's back, drawing her attention away from Aemond's chest long enough for him to press a fatherly kiss to her forehead. In a low voice, he simply said "go, we'll handle things from here," Daemon gave a simple nod to Aemond, and so he followed the command.

As they began to move, Rhaenyra also motioned for them to return to their chambers, her brows had furrowed with deep concern as she watched them leave. Aemond would guess that was due to their current condition. Aemond himself had a good amount of blood splattered on himself, and now some of it had been pressed on to Rhaena's shirt as well.

As they walked down the corridor, a troop of Gold Cloak knights quickly shuffled by them in uniformed lines on either side of them. In the distance, Aemond was sure he'd heard his uncle laugh, "let it go Alicent, the Dornish swine deserved more than the simple removal of his white cloak. Even though he clearly has never earned the right to truly wear it."

In the end, Criston Cole and the three servants' bodies were cleared and lifted away, servants and maids would be called to clean the blood from the walls and the floor.

Ser Fell was pulled to his feet by two Gold Cloaks and marched down to the dungeons with Ser Thorne in tow as well.

And to think, earlier this morning Aemond might have thought he could have avoided such bloodshed.

He'd been wrong.

Every Westerosi wedding was doomed to end in bloodshed.

☾

By the time they’d returned to their chambers, a scalding hot bath had been drawn for them. On the walk over Rhaena hadn’t said much, though neither had Aemond. Not until they’d both shed their clothes and stepped into the tub. He was not entirely sure what he was meant to say, it wasn’t as if he needed to explain himself or his actions.

Aemond had done his duty by protecting her, his lawful wife, he stopped a clear plot of rebellion from progressing any further than it had.

She could not possibly be upset with him…and he knew she was not frightened of him.

He just could not decipher what she was feeling now.

The bath water was calming though, and just as he sunk himself beneath the surface, he felt her hand on his knee. As per usual, they were sitting at opposite ends of the large tub, his long legs encircled around her body. At her soft touch, he pulled him up above the surface, combing his fingers through his hair as he wiped the water from his eye. Watching his Princess as her mouth opened and closed, words failing her in a rather unusual fashion.

Finally Aemond simply sighed, “just say it, Rhaena.”

She was nibbling on her lower lip now, swallowing thickly before her voice softly spoke his name,

“Aemond…”

“Yes?” he quirked a brow, feeling slightly impatient.

Her pale violet eyes gazed at him carefully before the look softened as she scooted herself closer to him. Then she paused, looked as if she might finally speak and then…nothing once again. Aemond didn’t bother to push again, instead he just gritted as he watched her brows begin to furrow, as she’d began to move even closer to him. The soft sound of her sighing as she all but slid herself up onto his lap and simply curled herself in against him, her chin nuzzling in the crook of his neck as her arms wrapped around his neck. He wouldn’t waste any time folding his arms around her, pressing her soft warmth against him, breathing her in and calming his own nerves.

He hadn’t even noticed the way his heart had been pounding, but it subsided almost immediately once his dragoness was in his arms again.

“Do you remember, yesterday…the tourney,” her voice warmly flowed against him, “I was so upset and angry with you, because I thought you’d been reckless. It was dangerous and I was frightened…so frightened over what could have happened. But that was a tourney…and tonight…”

Rhaena’s voice had cracked then, and for the first time since the ambush, he was sure he understood her truly. He’d been wondering why or how he’d managed not to frighten her after what she’d seen, but it was far more obvious when she compared it to yesterday's tourney. His doubts always plaguing him, if he could ever just view the obvious facts.

His wife loved him, so much so that she was far more scared for his well being than she was of his actions.

“Rhaena…” his low voice spoke lowly, but she only cut him off.

Pulling herself back enough to look into his eye and his Sapphire, holding his face in her hands, she smoothed the damp tendrils of his hair away from his face. It was there in the low candle light where he noticed the tears in her eyes, a sight that forced him to swallow a harsh lump.

“No, Aemond, tonight felt far more…” she sniffled as the tears tumbled down her cheeks, her voice was all wobbly and shaky, “at least in the tourney, it was about sportsmanship. Tonight Criston Cole truly wished to harm you…he wished to hurt me. And I know you mentioned his plots…your grandfather's plots…but hearing Criston tonight. He sounded so adamant…so wild. You could've been hurt."

Why was she so concerned with his well being when she was the one who had a blade to her throat…

Aemond quickly pulled her closer, gently wiping her tears with his thumb. The pained sounds she was making were drawing fracture line cracks all along his heart, “Rhaena, I'm fine…I am unharmed. Fuck him, I’m glad he’s dead…honestly I wish I’d been the one to do it. I had the chance… he had a fucking sword to your throat."

That venomous rage he’d felt earlier was building up again, even as he let his thumb glide over her throat. Just seeing the small cut incensed him.

It never should have happened.

Cole should've never made it over to her.

Fuck.

Every scar on his Princess' body was meant to be his to claim. Now she had this mark that would forever remind him of Criston fucking Cole.

"I can't decide how to feel," she groaned, resting her forehead on his shoulder, "I was not frightened for myself. Not really. The worst part really…I've never seen so much blood…severed limbs…heads. All of that…death . I know those men earned it, deserved it… they attacked you first. They attacked us…royalty. Ugh, I just feel wretched, and this ridiculous cut from that disgusting knight's sword."

Well there it was, just about everything he figured was weighing on her.

Though he never expected his sweet little Princess to say the words 'those men earned it' he most definitely was rubbing off on her.

"Fetch me your dagger," had been his only response, he couldn’t exactly quell all of her worries tonight, but he could do one thing. The one element of tonight that truly burned and bothered him. And it seemed it had bothered her just as much.

That fucking cut.

He regretted tasking her with leaving his embrace for just a moment, but he relished in the complete trust she had in him to simply retrieve her weapon and return to him. The idea was simple and it honestly felt like the only solution to the incessant nagging in his mind that he couldn't seem to ignore.

Criston Cole had left his mark on this world…and he left it on Rhaena Targaryen.

No.

Rhaena belonged to Aemond and he could not have a mark left by such an insignificant man gracing her skin.

It would seem she agreed.

So when she returned, handing him her prized Valyrian steel dagger, he casually motioned for her to re-enter the tub and resume her previous position.

"Aemond, what are you going to do," Rhaena eyed him with slight skepticism even as she did as he bade. Once he had her where he wanted her, he tilted her chin up high enough to expose her throat to him.

The slit itself was a shallow one, and he aimed to keep it that way, but he also aimed to make it his , "do you trust me," at her nod, he pressed a warm kiss to the corner of her jaw. Then he proceeded to quickly draw that dagger's blade over her cut, reopening the small slit before quickly drawing a line diagonally across it. She'd only winced at the pricking of her skin, bright bubbling blood forming from the new wound.

The wound he now made his.

Now everytime he looked at this little X at the base of her throat, he wouldn't have to think of Cole's blade. No he could just think of this moment, quietly sitting in a tub with his beloved dragoness…claiming her always.

Once he was done, he placed the dagger down on a nearby chair before holding his wife closely to him. Pressing his lips against the new wound as if he was christening it.

And there he saw the faintest of smiles grace her lips, he'd blame Cole for the rest of his life, solely for ruining the very end of his wedding night.

"I love you," she sighed softly, claiming his lips sweetly, her fingers running through his hair as he smiled against her lips. He knew that also counted as a thank you for claiming her wound, for protecting her, for loving her just as much.

As his hands roamed along her back, he could feel her heart begin to calm against him, no longer battering emotionally within her chest.

This night could still be salvaged yet.

When he broke their kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling as they caught their breath, "well now we both have neck wounds"

"I think yours was a lot worse," she smirked down at him, "but if you’d like, I could claim it as well."

His breath had caught at the thought, he hadn’t even considered it when it occurred. But if this was her offer, he’d gladly take it.

Aemond grinded his jaw at the thought before exposing the injured side of his neck to her. It was still very sore, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it this evening. His mind had been quite occupied, “make it yours then, I’d rather see it and think of you than the bloody Northern hound."

"Maester Gerardys will not be happy with me, ruining his perfect stitches," his Princess bit back an oncoming set of giggles, but either way he was glad that she was smiling now, bright and beautiful. Even with her eyes still red puffy, her nose and cheeks slightly rosy all due to her recently shed tears…she still looked positively perfect to him.

"Are you stalling now, sweet girl," he grinned slowly, nipping at the curve of her neck as he drew small little giggles from her, “claim it, I’ll deal with the Maester.”

With the most satisfied exhale he'd ever heard from her, she caressed his hair and nodded, "very well, hold still, my dragon." He watched from the corner of his eye as she reached for her dagger, but he closed it once he felt the cool steel of her blade drag across his stitches, cutting them slowly, hesitantly, as the blade burned the wounded line. He didn’t flinch or wince, clenching his jaw only slightly, as she added a shallow slice across it, the flicker that truly made it hers.

All the while his blood sang at the intimacy of the action, his heart soaring as she’d finished. The final touch, just as he’d done with her, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his bleeding wound, christening it.

"I think I should send for a Maester now," she smiled down at him, but before she could leave him, he gently grasped her chin, pulling her lips to his for another soft kiss. Drowning in the taste of her, the blood on their lips mixing and mingling between them, he savoured the feeling. Savoured the present moment entirely really, he'd saved his Rhaena…kept her safe and unharmed.

And thankfully now, she was all his…to have and to hold.

For the rest of his life.

P.S. EEEEEEK! If you saw my tumblr updates, these last two scenes (Criston's ambush/death/aftermath) were the scenes that had me stuck for like a whole month! I wasn't sure if I wanted to kill him, but I knew there would be some blood and gore here. I just couldn't decide what direction I was going to go in, originally he was going to live, but Aemond was going to torture him a bit…which seemed a bit darker to me LOL. Either way Otto's "plots and plans" had to be dealt with now sooo yeahh GOODBYE CRISTON!!

- I had about 3 or 4 other scenes that were originally going to be apart of this chapter, but either I severely underestimated the length of the scenes I was writing or I overestimated my ability to get those done for this chapter…either way, I've decided to just start CH.5 with those scenes instead. And have the time jump moved to the middle of CH.5 or over to Ch.6. Either way, CH.5 is officially going to be a Rhaena POV chapter. The events of the "wedding night ambush" have absolutely affected her a bit.

Now I've started writing chapter 5 already! Fingers crossed I don't take another fucking month to drop that one!

#rhaena x aemond #aemond x rhaena #rhaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #rhaemond #aemond smut #rhaena smut #daemon targeryan #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #criston cole #hotd smut

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