#I love them your honor i wish i had more time to write/draw them :')

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[milliesdiary]

i cant stop thinking about aemond fucking you so sweetly and just worshipping your body, making you cum multiple times

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; aemond spoils you like the princess you are.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; princess!reader, p in v penetration, mentions of fingering and oral, just pure smut ♡

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; hi! i just had to write this little drabble :) please reblog and comment with your feedback. it means the world to me and keeps me motivated! be sure to consider following to stay updated ✨

"Breathe, Princess," Aemond grunts lowly, his hands holding onto your hips as you balance on his lap. When you fully press down on his erect cock once more, he guides you and lets out a satisfied hum. You start moving your hips, slowly — painfully slow — grinding his thick shaft deep inside your sopping cunt. 

“M-My Prince!” you gasp out. Everything is so sensitive; you have already cum two times, once from Aemond stuffing his long fingers into your pussy and the mind-blowing oral he performed afterwards. You’re close to another orgasm, and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so clouded by pleasure. 

“Aemond,” he corrects, that one violet eye of his glinting with unadulterated desire and a tinge of fucking amusement.

Aemond pulls you down for a scorching kiss — his ability to tolerate the sight of you taking him so well is quickly vanishing. The whole thing is fucking messy, just a collision of teeth and tongues as he licks at your bottom lip. His head spins as a result of the sensuality of your kisses, and when he starts to grind up into you, your fingers fly up to tug on the silver strands of his long hair. 

The sting on his scalp makes Aemond lets out a strangled breath, and his thrusts deepen as he growls out, "You are beautiful." He enjoys the sound of your high-pitched whine in response, and his pride grows as he observes how fucked out you are already.

"I possess a considerable amount of desires," Aemond says in a hushed tone. "I want you. Your hand in marriage. I want to suffocate you with my dedication. Every inch of you." 

You wish so greatly that you could exchange the same words, reassure him of your affections; but you’re too jaded, too caught up in Aemond. That fire inside of him burns with a flaming wrath, yet he is gold. 

You can only think of one thing: 

What an honor it is to be valued by him. 

A stifled grunt escapes Aemond's chest as you grind your hips over his agonizing length, and he furrows his brows. The way your walls cling to his shaft and draw him in until his swollen, enraged tip is pressed firmly against your cervix has completely captured his attention. You're just so wet and tight, leaking all over his cock.

To bring you forward and press his lips against yours, Aemond’s large hand extends to the nape of your neck. Your lips passionately slide against his, and you might just die from the sensation.

“If I am a monster, it is because of the malice of man,” Aemond murmurs into your mouth. “It is only because of your love that I can be spared.” 

And this is the moment you have no regrets. 

Those in the kingdom made fun of you for selecting Aemond, a man built of barbed wire, equally as sharp and dangerous. How can you explain to them that it is the barbed wire that has protected you all this time? 

His fingertips clench around your neck as you attempt to move on instinct, and all you can do is you scream out a pathetic "Aemond!" as you break free from the frantic kiss. “Gods, please. Don’t stop!”

“Keep begging, my love.” Aemond almost chuckles, his lips mouthing over the curve of your breast. "It suits you."

His fingers start to circle your clit and you gasp, clinging to him as his calloused thumb hooks against it and he continues to gently rock into you in excruciating pleasure.

You both gasp as the sensation of him being so completely inside of you, your choked exhale shuddering as they pass through your lips.

“Good girl,” Aemond purrs, his smirk predatory and devilish, made worse by his expression full of mirth. He’s so fixated on how your cunt is trying so valiantly to milk him for all that he is worth, focused on the way your eyes slam shut with pleasure and your jaw drops open. Before you can tell him how much you love him, he gently rolls his hips to lead you up and down his burning-hot length. He begins to place kisses along your jugular, the hot puffs of breath fanning across the skin there, his speed on your clit increasing.

“I’m so close!” you whimper, your hands trembling as they grip his shoulders. Aemond hum in acknowledgement, the corners of his slightly lips twitching upward. 

“I am in your blood, in your veins, your psyche. Your entire being—body, senses, and divinity is mine. Can you feel it, Princess?”

“Yes!”

You’re about to cum, hanging right on the precipice of falling over the edge. The heat builds up in your belly, prepared to burst and dust you both with screamed moans and detonate explosive stars behind closed eyelids. You let out a broken cry of his name, urging him brush his mouth against your lips. 

“You stole my heart, my love,” Aemond whispers. “Don’t dare give it back.” 

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

The Good Queen (Part 3)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing(s): Viserys Targaryen x Fem!Reader, Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Harwin Strong x Alicent Hightower, Harwin Strong x Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Alicent Hightower, Daemon Targaryen x Harwin Strong (I won’t apologize for everyone being gay for each other)

Tag: hotd the good queen

Warning: Fluff. Angst. Time-skip. Happy ending. Age gaps. No feud. No greens or blacks. Blood & Gore. Grusome death.

Word Count: 7,011

Taglist: @gruffle1​ 

Summary: A look into Queen Y/n Hightower’s life is busy and full of love and family. But something else lingers in the dark, waiting for her.

Author’s Note: Laena still dies but under different circumstances and Aemond claims Vhagar honorably. Rhaena and Baela do not exist so everyone is proud of Aemond by his accomplishment and he doesn’t steal the right to Vhagar from anyone.

Part One - Part Two

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

130 AC

So much to do with so little time to enjoy the beautiful day, Queen Y/n Hightower makes her rounds about the castle after breaking her fast. As usual, she walks gracefully down the long hallways and winding staircases, entering the throne room to extend her greetings to her husband before starting her day. She climbs the stairs to the Iron Throne and leaves a kiss on Viserys lips before briefly exchanging their morning agendas. As usual, they speak mostly of their children. The Queen speaks of the planned events for Helaena's upcoming name day while the King mentions the many lords who have reached out to him to ask for Helaena's hand. Y/n appeared hesitant but further asked her husband to send these letters up to her chambers when he has the chance so she might look into these suitors as well.

"They may try to woo her during the celebration," he warns her lightheartedly, "Best to warn her so she is not overwhelmed."

"I shall," Y/n stands from her seat on Viserys' knee, cupping his face in her hand before she makes her departure, "I'll see you at supper."

"Hm. I'm afraid I have to take supper in the Small Council meeting tonight," the King smiles apologetically, "But you are welcome to join. I could use your sharp eyes on the matter of the meeting."

"Not tonight," Y/n sighs at the idea of another council meeting. They appear to be more crucial than naught these days, "If it would please you, my love, allow me to rummage through all the letters of liege lords addressing Helaena's hand. I'll invite Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent for supper tonight in my apartments and use their opinions to narrow down the pool of suitors."

"Excellent idea," Viserys beamed, quickly grasping her hand and kissing her knuckles before she could turn away, "I wish you luck."

She descends the Iron Throne and exits the throne room, nodding to her ladies-in-waiting when she found them still in the spot where she had left them. They dutifully follow her as she expertly navigates through the long hallways of the castle, bowing her head and smiling whenever someone stopped and bowed to her in greeting. She stops in the training yard before all else and immediately spots Ser Criston Cole overseeing a training session between Aegon the Elder and his cousin, Jacaerys Strong. She glides down the steps and makes her way to the sworn shield, "What shall they be learning today, Ser Criston?"

"Mostly defensive maneuvers, Your Grace," Cole bows, but is unable to draw his eyes away from the fight in case he missed something, "Aegon has improved since his return from Oldtown. Do give your lord father my compliments. Whoever he had training the boy during his stay must have been quite exceptional."

"I shall," she finds herself repeating a second time, to her inner amusement. Her shoulders began to feel tight with the reminder of Otto Hightower.

When he first started writing letters to his eldest daughter, it was to reach out and learn about his grandchildren. Y/n should have felt relief to learn that her father was wanting to mend their relationship. Instead, she only felt this cold dread in her heart when she learned that he had only written to her and not to Alicent, who was also his daughter and had given him an equal number of grandchildren. Y/n tried to be courteous and kind to her father in any returning letter she sent, and yet each one he replied with felt more like a stone crushing her against the sea bed, despite feeling the light weight of the paper in her hands. Eventually, Lord Otto requested to host his oldest grandchild, Aegon, in Oldtown. His reasoning was for personal reasons only; to make up for lost time and congratulate Aegon on becoming a man. Otto also stated that perhaps it would be good for both Aegon and Daeron to reunite again as brothers. Y/n had hesitated before finally agreeing, despite the memories she had of her father when Aegon was first born. She remembered Lord Otto trying to force her hand, telling her how to raise her sweet, innocent son into becoming a king.

She gave her father the benefit of the doubt. That had been years ago and she agreed that Aegon deserved to see his little brother again, her own ache to see Daeron the deciding factor on this arrangement. She sent Aegon to Oldtown, promising him that it would only be for the season. Her inner demons wished to demand her eldest child to steal Daeron away as well, but forced the words down and bury them as she hugged Aegon tightly. Now Aegon has finally returned -and not with Daeron- just before Helaena's name day. The Queen watched her son easily defend himself against Lord Jacaerys' advances, feeling proud and yet in turmoil over how mature he's become. Her children really were growing up before her eyes.

She nods to Ser Criston, "I'm sure he would be proud to hear you say that, ser knight. Excuse me."

"Your Grace."

Next, she makes her way to the gardens, taking a moment to stand in the warm sunlight with the soft breeze brushing through her hair like a loving touch. The Queen takes her time winding through the maze of flowers and trimmed hedges until she comes across the gazebo stationed at the center of all the plants. Her sister, Lady Alicent Strong, is seated under the shade of the gazebo, Little Aegon in her lap while Little Viserys crawls around at her feet, her hand gently grazing the woman sitting beside her.

Princess Rhaenyra, heavily pregnant with her third child, is the first to notice Y/n when she neared the gazebo, and smiles at her stepmother, "Good morning, Your Grace."

Alicent looks up and immediately finds Y/n, only pulling her hand away from Rhaenyra when she noticed the Queen's handmaidens trailing behind her. Y/n nods as she approached the two women, "It certainly is, Princess," her fingers briefly push a strand of Alicent's hair out of her face before leaning down and kissing her cheek in greeting, "Ali. Jacaerys is faring well in his training, I see."

"If only he was doing well in his studies," Alicent quips with a gentle smile as she stares up at her elder sister, who takes Aegon from her arms and rests him on her hip, "What brings you here?"

"I am here to invite the two of you to a private supper tonight," Y/n tickles Aegon the Younger under his chin, smiling as he squealed with laughter, though it doesn't reach her eyes as she spoke of her troubles, "I have letters from various lords of the realm who wish to wed Helaena and I could use your help reading through them all, as well as getting a second and third opinion."

"Of course," Alicent beams, although Rhaenyra doesn't seem as thrilled.

"Helaena is still too young to be thinking about marriage," she immediately replies, a frown cutting through her beautiful Valyrian features. She is distracted by her thoughts, however, when Little Viserys pulls himself up onto his chubby feet using her skirts. Her hand brushes his silver hair back, the toddler cooing under her attention.

"She's near one-and-twenty, Rhaenyra," Y/n appeared downcast, even as she smiled down at her stepdaughter and squeezed her shoulder in comfort, "You were even younger. We all were. We've been holding this back for long enough. We can't keep her forever."

The Queen knelt down to the princess' round stomach, peering up at Rhaenyra with an encouraging twinkle in her eye, "Besides, pretty soon you'll have a daughter of your own to fret over."

Rhaenyra faintly smiled, running a hand over her stomach even as clouds formed in her eyes. She had always wanted a sister and finally got what she wanted when her father married Y/n and they bore Helaena. Rhaenyra was always so protective of her little half-sister, even more so than the brothers, "You speak in confidence. And yet Alicent believes I'm having a boy."

"You look no different than when you carried Little Aegon and Viserys," Alicent comments in defense of her opinion when Y/n glanced over to her.

"We'll make wages tonight then, at dinner," Y/n smirked at her sister, briefly glancing back at Rhaenyra and winking. The Queen sets Aegon down next to his brother and stands up straight again, nodding to the other two, "Until then, my sweets."

"Good day, Your Grace," Rhaenyra chimes while Y/n disappears from the gazebo, her ladies keeping their heads low as they follow her.

She trails through the gardens with her usual company in tow, wishing to waste a little time if it meant she could enjoy the lovely, quiet day. That is until the peace is suddenly interrupted by the loud, high-pitched laughter of a small child. Looking around, Her Grace tried pinpointing the laughter, which now followed shouts of disapproval, until she discovers Little Joffrey Strong, the small boy running through the gardens while being chased by his septa, dark curls bouncing as he sprinted. Y/n laughs under her breath and decides not to intervene, knowing that not even she could save her little nephew from his strict teacher. The Queen shushes her handmaids when they all began to giggle at the sight, and with a smile, directs them to exit the gardens quietly until they are out of sight of the poor, winded, septa. The ladies all bow to their queen and go on about their day, leaving Y/n alone to her thoughts as she walks back into the castle.

The library is the next stop on her to-do list, allowing the guards to open the heavy doors for her before entering the grand room, full of books from top to ceiling. However, she didn't find herself alone as she originally thought. At the nearest table were none other than her son, Aemond and Lucerys Strong, playing a competitive game of cyvasse. Both young men look up at the sound of the library doors opening and stand to greet her when they recognized her face.

"Mother," Aemond thinly smiles, his eye lowering in respect.

"Who is winning?" She smirks as she glides across the floor to join them, her fingers pinching the sleeve of Aemond's tunic as she practically stood in the shadow of his tall form.

"Currently me, Your Grace," Luke's eyes sparkle mischievously, his smile only broadening when Aemond directs a small glare at him.

Y/n rolls her lips to try to retain the growing smile of amusement before crossing over to the board game, peering over either side of the divider so she can see both sides of their placements. Turning and walking away, she calls over her shoulder, "Careful, nephew. If he's smart, Aemond can defeat you in two moves."

She hears scuffling and squawks of surprise from behind her as she disappeared beyond the bookcases, smiling to herself. She travels through the small aisles between shelves until she finds what she's looking for, picking up a book to her liking and dusting off the worn cover. Tucking the leather book under her arm, she makes her way back through the maze of books until she stumbles across her son and nephew again. Y/n ruffles Luke's hair, earning another squawk of indignant from him and causing Aemond to hum in amusement under his breath, much similar to his mother. Y/n beams and walks out of the library and onto her next destination.

Walking back up the winding stairs to reach the floor of her daughter's chambers was an easy feat, having gone the same way for years since Helaena's birth. Today, however, Y/n's feet felt heavy as she inched closer to the princess' room. Her steps felt like lead by the time she reached her daughter's door, knocking and announcing herself before entering.

"My heart?" Y/n called into the room as she shut the door behind her.

Helaena had her knees up to her chest, lounging over her couch by the window, heavily focused on the embroidery in her hands. Y/n walked closer and recognized the pattern to be a dragonfly. The mother smiled as she goes to sit in the open space of her daughter's couch, relaxing her regal posture as she leaned back against the cushions, sighing in exhaustion as she watches Helaena work.

Their days together are often spent like this, in silence but in comfort. Helaena isn't fond of loud noises, touches, or even conversation, so Y/n respects her boundaries and tends not to force her daughter into such situations unless absolutely necessary. This is why guilt and shame settled uncomfortably in the Queen's gut, the weight of letters regarding a future husband for her lovely daughter heavy before Y/n could even read them herself. Even though she had not seen the letters in person yet, they still lingered in the back of her mind, dreading the conversation that will have to happen, and the celebrations of her name day that Helaena will have to attend.

"Has your uncle stopped by for your lessons?" Y/n suddenly asked, realizing that she had not seen Daemon at all this morning.

Helaena paused in her ministrations but continues to stare at her embroidery as she answered, "He left early. Kostōba vali emagon kostōba ondos." [Strong men have strong hands]

Though the Queen herself was not fluent in High Valyrian, she has spent enough time in the company of Daemon and Rhaenyra to catch a few words. Y/n tilts her head, suspicious, "Does 'kostōba' mean 'strong?'"

Helaena only nods as she continues her work, unaware of the playful roll of her eyes her mother presents. Y/n sinks further into the lounge chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. One of these days, she'll have to reprimand her brother-in-law for leaving his niece and depriving her of Valyrian lessons only so he could sneak off with Ser "Breakbones" Strong.

"My daughter's mother tongue should be more important than the need to stick your tongue down Ser Harwin's throat," Y/n could already hear her own lecture in her head, to which she can imagine Daemon's sly smirk gleaming down at her in response.

"Have you seen Ser Harwin's throat, dear sister?"

Y/n scoffs out loud and had the decency to appear bashful when she realized that Helaena had heard her. She flashed her daughter an apologetic smile when the princess looked up, but it slowly faded once Helaena looked back down, the Queen was sorely reminded of the main topic of today's events. Sighing, Y/n reached a hand out to Helaena, "My dear, may I touch you?"

Helaena immediately went stiff as a board, to which Y/n retracted her hand, "Okay, I'm sorry," she whispered, guilt now evident in her eyes, not that Helaena had noticed as she continues with her embroidery. It only made her mother feel worse, the woman who once loved her innocence but now felt saddened by it. Helaena is a woman grown now, and it was still hard for Y/n to wrap her head around. How can something so pure grow up so fast? Just trying to picture her daughter in the care of a man whom she has never met frightened her; haunted her even. Y/n, as Queen, understands that this is the way of things and no matter how hard she tried, there are just some things far beyond her control, like her daughter's impending marriage. It will happen eventually, whether Y/n Hightower likes it or not.

Originally, she came to Helaena to talk about these matters but decided she wanted her child to remain innocent just a little bit longer. Instead, Y/n set the book from the library down on the table across from the couch and slid it over to Helaena, "This was a book that I read years ago... before I married your father. It's about these rare butterflies native to the islands of Naath. They carry a disease that is deadly to anyone who isn't born and bred from their natural habitats," Y/n huffs in mirth, mostly to herself, "I remember that imagery kept me awake at night, but I thought this would be more to your liking."

Helaena had paused her embroidery upon her mother's explanation. The princess peers over to the book with faint interest and reaches out to caress the symbol of the butterfly engraved into the front cover, "Thank you, Mother."

Y/n beams, feeling her heart skip a beat at the sound of her most proud title. Even as her children grow into adults, she still feels her heart melt every time they call her by her true name. Aegon says it as if he mocks it, but in a playful way. Aemond says it with respect and admiration and with a hint of a smile. Helaena says it softly, like a butterfly's wing. And Daeron...

The Queen quickly shuts her thoughts down and rises from the couch, patting the cushion closest to Helaena's foot, "I'll leave you to it then. If you miss dinner, I'll make sure a meal is sent up to you."

She moves around the furniture and heads toward the door.

"Mother."

Y/n looks back, smiling patiently as she waits for Helaena to continue.

The young princess doesn't look up from her new book, speaking in riddles as she often does. But today, her riddle felt haunting, almost like a warning, "A sire wishes to breathe fire. Fire burns to skin, and his eldest breeds it."

Puzzled as she often is by Helaena's riddles, Y/n tries not to let it bother her. Over the years, she had learned to stop asking Helaena what she means and has stopped trying to understand her. Sometimes, even Helaena appears confused by what her own words mean. When she started saying these riddles, Viserys took it as a sign that she was a dragon dreamer, much like himself. Daemon had rolled his eyes and had started an argument with his brother for the sake of an argument, so Y/n never try to investigate further what her husband meant.  

Instead of asking her to reiterate, Y/n only nods to Helaena before leaving the room, taking a longer route toward her own apartments so that she might have a little more to walk and think alone. The time it takes for her to get to her chambers is peaceful and the hallways are empty except for the occasional maid walking in or out of rooms to fetch or retrieve clothes or food. Ser Harrold Westerling is waiting outside of Y/n's room when she arrives, and after he opens the door for her, the Queen turns back to him, "You may leave, Ser Harrold. Please see to it that no one bothers the Princess Helaena while she reads."

"At once, Your Grace," Harrold bows and marches down the hall, and Y/n closes the door behind her.

A late afternoon nap was in order, but Y/n knew better than to try when she still had so much to do. Looking around, she found the stacks of letters she had asked the King for and crossed the room to the table. She picks up one of the letters, inspected the contents, and made out the name Prince Qoren Martell.

"Absolutely not," Y/n found herself talking out loud, laughing at the gall of House Martell. She decided that all suitors she didn't approve of will have their letters burned immediately so her husband would not see them, lest he tried to marry their daughter off without her knowledge. She sauntered over to the hearth and watched the letter burn in the small flames, still amused but faintly disgusted at the idea of Helaena being sent to Dorne. The embers of the hearth appeared to mock her, the andirons; the two tall bracket spikes supporting the logs from falling into the room were shaped suspiciously like a Sunspeare. Y/n doesn't try to think about how her andirons were probably forged in Dorne and instead focused on watching the letter burn.

She hears rustling behind her and turned to face the maid she expected to find. Instead, a knife is pressed into her neck, and a hand grips tightly onto her arm. Y/n lets out a squeak of shock, reflexes kicking in as her free hand tries to push the knife away from her. The attacker is male, close to her own height, and reeked of filth. He doesn't demand or restrain her, instead, he speaks in grunts and growls as he fights with every intention of killing her.

"HELP! GUARDS!" Y/n screams at the top of her lungs once her brain had caught up with her body, still trying to push the dagger out of the way. He pushed back with equal strength and determination, with Y/n's own adrenaline turning quickly into fear and causing her arms to tremble. Her breaths quicken as she can feel herself slowly go into shock, limbs heavy and slowly giving into the weight of the knife. At one point, she tried to pull away and run when her legs began to feel like jelly, but her attacker had a hold of one of her arms, so she had no choice but to continue to fight for her life. As they both spun in this twisted dance, Y/n quickly realized that the hearth now stood directly behind her attacker. Sucking in a deep breath with every bit of strength she had left, she shoved the man hard, even trying to place her foot behind his to trip him for added measure.

The man falls, knife sliding like butter down Y/n's forearm in the descent. Before the assassin could place his hands behind him to stop his fall, his head hits the mantle above the hearth and he crumbles in pain, forgetting to fight against gravity as his body drops into the hearth. His neck, unfortunately, lands right on top of one of the andiron spikes, spearing through flesh and bone. He spits out blood, gurgling, choking on the red liquid as he slowly realizes he was trapped with his head sticking directly into the flames. As he spat out blood, his whole body convulsed and writhed in response to his entire head beginning to catch fire, unable to escape with his neck completely skewered onto the spike. His eyebrows turned to ash, and his skin began to blister and melt, his body twitched and kicked for freedom, even as the heat of the flames forced his skin to sizzle and pop like a boar on a spit. The smell was unbearable as Y/n quickly steps away, only to fall to her knees on the floor when she found no strength left, tears uncontrollably rolling down her face. All she could do was cling to her injured arm and watch, horrified, as her attacker's body slowly stopped fighting, going limp as the fire somehow burned brighter. The Queen tried gasping for air, her entire body shaking out of fear and pain just as the doors burst open to reveal the Kingsguard.

"My Queen!" Harrold Westerling had returned, immediately running to Y/n's side while his men inspect the scene before them. Ser Harrold guides her to the nearest furniture and inspects Her Majesty's injuries while a maester was called forward. Between the bustling of the guards and the shouting involved, other residents of the castle began to stir with all this commotion.

The first to arrive was Alicent, with Rhaenyra slowly following her in her condition. Alicent looked around the room, horrified by the man lying dead in the fireplace before she scanned the apartments and quickly found her sister, "Y/n!"

She rushed over to the Queen, gathering her up in her arms as they both wept in fright and relief. Rhaenyra excused Ser Harrold from attending Y/n so that she may sit on the other side of her stepmother and hold her close. The Grand Maester finally arrived and quickly made good, efficient work on the Queen's arm as Daemon marched into the room, sneering at the scene of the crime. He looked as though he wished to spit onto the dead body before releasing his anger elsewhere.

"Who was meant to be on watch here?! Who failed to protect the Queen?!"

"It was me, Prince Daemon," Ser Harrold bowed his head in shame.

Daemon only takes two steps towards the knight before Y/n finally found her words, even as she stumbles over them, "N-No, Daemon! It was not his fault! I... I... I ordered him to go tend to Helaena. I made him leave his station."

Her brother-in-law relents after a while of the two of them staring down one another, stepping away from Ser Harrold and moving to stand behind the three women on the couch, "Has my brother been informed? Is someone with him?"

"Ser Criston is guarding the King, my prince. He's on his way."

"Mother?" Aegon calls out from the doorway, only walking into the room when the sea of knights part for him to see the Queen alive and well. Jace also walks in with him, leading his father, Ser Harwin, to inspect the scene for himself.

"I did not realize I was hosting in my chambers," Y/n muttered under her breath, wincing when the maester added yet another stitch to the cut. However, her irritation melts away when her eldest son approached her, reaching out to him with her free hand, "I'm alright, my sweet. Have you seen your brother and sister?"

"Your daughter is safe in her room, Your Grace," Ser Harrold cut in, "I left a guard with her."

"And Aemond? Last I saw, he was in the library with Lucerys."

"I'll go get them," Harwin volunteered after a pleading gaze from his lady-wife Alicent. He quickly heads towards the door only to stop short and bow as Viserys finally enters, his cane trembling in support of him.

"What is the meaning of this?" The King demands as everyone bows in his presence, all except his family members sitting on or surrounding the couch. Viserys turns to his family, inspecting each of their expressions before settling on his queen, "And why is my wife bleeding?"

"There was an assassination attempt, Your Grace," Ser Harrold quickly reports with a ramrod back. Ser Harwin finally leaves the room after nodding to his father and Ser Criston when they entered the Queen's chambers. Hand of the King, Lord Lyonel Strong, steps up to stand beside the King, appalled and worried.

"An assassin? How is this possible?" He questions.

"I did not recognize his face," Y/n answers, her voice now stronger with her family surrounding her. Her back straightens and she now looks onto Lord Lyonel with the fierceness of a queen once more, "I pride myself in knowing every staff member in my employment, and I have never seen that man before in my life."

"It will be hard to identify him now, Your Grace," Ser Harrold continues to address Viserys while also moving aside to show the King the horrifying sight of the death. Viserys' eyes widen at the body stuck in the hearth from the neck up. He looks at his wife and then back to the body, affronted and speechless. In this time of the King taking it all in, Ser Harwin returns with Prince Aemond and Lord Lucerys, both young men striding across the room to join their respective family members. Aemond stands beside his older brother, standing over their mother as he inspects her appearance with only his single eye. He didn't speak a word, and yet confessed he was afraid by looks alone.

Alicent felt the need to stand and pace, and by doing so, caught a glimpse of the dead body and noticed, to her horror, his attire, "He wears our house colors," turning back to her older sister, Alicent recognized the equal shock spreading over Y/n's face, "Could this man be from Oldtown?"

Y/n's shoulders fall, a faint look of acceptance written in her sad eyes, "If so... then there could only be one prime suspect who resides there."

The room is filled with mutters of both surprise and indifference, depending on who you talk to. Some, like the Kingsguard, are appalled by this revelation, some, like Daemon, know it to be true and their eyes darken. Others, like Lord Lyonel and Lady Alicent, are in a state of disbelief.

Alicent even voices her disbelief as she shakes her head, "Father would never do something like this. Why would he want you dead if you're married to the King?"

"Because Father's wish wasn't for me to marry the King, it was for his blood to one day sit on the Iron Throne," Y/n stated boldly, loudly, to make sure everyone in the room heard it and accept it, "When I pledged my loyalty to Rhaenyra's right as Viserys' heir, Father's plans were ruined."

Rhaenyra squeezed Y/n's knee in comfort and the room stirred with this bit of information. Viserys grinds his teeth while glaring at the floor, enraged by the gall of his former Hand.

"A sire wishes to breathe fire. Fire burns to skin, and his eldest breeds it."

All eyes turn to the door of the room, where Princess Helaena now stood, half hiding away as all eyes turn to her. Y/n's worries all float away as her face softens at the sight of her daughter, smiling in encouragement, "Yes... that's what you meant, my heart. You tried to warn me."

"If Father is responsible for this attack, then he risks himself becoming a traitor to the crown," Alicent interrupts, her voice low in anger, "He should be punished immediately."

Viserys huffs out a large, enraged sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Maester. Once you are done attending to the Queen, please inspect the body. I will have the Kingsguard bring the corpse down to the dungeons and you may meet them there."

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Ser Harrold," Viserys broadens his voice, the man in question straightening to attention at the power of it, "I demand the arrest of Lord Otto Hightower. Send out a regiment to Oldtown to obtain him and bring him back to King's Landing."

"Your Grace," Ser Harrold bows and vacates the room.

"Ser Criston," Viserys turns to the younger knight, "Remain outside the Queen's room tonight."

"At once, Your Grace."

"Half of you bring the body down to the dungeons," the old man orders the remaining Kingsguard, "The rest of you follow me. I will summon the court and address the crime at hand."

"You mean to warn them of your interrogation into their treachery?" Daemon questions with a sly glare, appalled.

"Treachery?" Viserys appeared affronted at his younger brother, scoffing in disbelief.

"Someone inside the castle must have helped, my love," Y/n decided to cut in before another spat between brothers could begin within her chambers, "I do not believe my father acted alone in this attack. I believe he had help from someone on the inside. Only someone with the proper knowledge of the castle and my whereabouts could have instructed the assassin on where to go and when to strike. No doubt whoever this traitor is had hired the attacker using Lord Otto's coin."

The maester had finished Y/n's stitches and stood to instruct the Kingsguard on how to remove the body without tampering with it. Roughly five Kingsguard managed to lift the corpse off the sharp andiron and pull it out of the fire without distressing the skull from its shoulders. The Queen keeps her eyes fixed on her husband, refusing to even glimpse at the body of her attacker. Viserys former dismissal relents, his shoulders slouching as he nods in agreement. The body is removed from Y/n's chambers and with it follows a parade of Kingsguard along with the Grand Maester. Viserys waited for them all to leave before also exiting with Lord Lyonel, mentioning under his breath of a secret council meeting.

The room grows silent, the rest of the royal family sitting uncomfortably, unnerved by the situation. Y/n's mind is buzzing, her thoughts running from her attacker... to Oldtown, to her father, and then to Daeron. Dread freezes in her chest, worry for her youngest child taking place.

"Daemon," Y/n stands up, feeling the strength of her legs again as she rounds the couch in a flurry of skirts, stepping up to her good brother. She makes sure to stare directly up into his eyes, unwavering, as she carefully spoke her next words, "I wonder if you would be so kind as to take your dragon to Oldtown and bring me back my son?"

Mischief sparkled dimly in Daemon's war-aged eyes, a corner of his lips slowly turned up as he feigns innocence with the tilt of his head, "Not by horse, Your Grace? Surely, you wouldn't want your lord father to feel insulted by the mere threat of a dragon."

A playful taunt that she would normally meet, but the Queen's mind remains fixed on her baby boy. Her words are blunt and powerful compared to the stutter she had possessed earlier, "Perhaps I would like him to feel insulted by the mere presence of your company."

She leans into her brother-in-law's space, taking both of her hands and gripping onto one of his forearms. She lowers her voice so that only he could hear the rest, "Go. I don't care what you do, or how you do it, just bring me back my son alive."

He schooled his features, emotions neutral while firmly nodding once down to her, "Yes, Your Grace."

Daemon breaks from her hold on him and cross to the door before Aemond began to follow him, "I'll accompany you, Uncle."

Y/n quickly steps towards her second son, reaching for him, "I do not wish that, Aemond--

"It's alright, dear sister," she turns to Daemon's voice, "Vhagar and Caraxes will definitely be a sight your father will remember for the rest of his miserable years... or whatever time he has left."

The grave promise in his tone may have felt intimidating to some, but it was strangely a comfort to the Queen. Aemond grasps her elbow in comfort, forcing her to look up at him. Glancing between her son and Daemon, she eventually surrenders with a stern expression as she narrows her gaze onto Aemond, "Fine. But you do what Daemon says and you do not fight. Promise me."

"I promise, Mother," Aemond whispers gently to her, "I'll bring Daeron home for you."

He pulls out of his mother's grip and saunters over to join his uncle at the door. Daemon nods to Rhaenyra before exiting from her sight. Aemond takes one look back at his family, narrowing his sight onto his older brother. He tilts his head in question and Aegon only shakes his head in rejection. He will not join the hunt. Aemond nods with understanding, a silent conversation only two brothers can share, before he, too, leaves. Aegon turns back to his mother, dutifully placing himself at her side, "What would you have me do, Mother?"

"Stay with Helaena in her chambers tonight," she instructs him with a warm smile, cupping his face in her hands, meeting his eyes as they stood the same height, "I would feel comforted knowing neither of you would be left alone for the time being."

"We can all stay together, Aunt," Jace mentions with a smile of reassurance, "All the children. We'll have the wet nurses bring Little Aegon and Viserys to Princess Helaena's room and we can keep each other company until we know everything is safe again."

"I'll go find Joffrey," Luke volunteers, springing up and disappearing from the room.

"Very well," Y/n laughs under her breath, amused by Luke's lack of courtesy before gently patting the side of Aegon's face, "Will that please you, my dear? Will you and Jace watch over your siblings and cousins until we apprehend the people involved in this attack?"

"We'll make it a celebration, Mother," Aegon comforts her, "As to not worry the smaller ones."

"Thank you, my sweet child," Y/n whispers, feeling lighter when she watches the remainder of the children leave, though it was getting harder and harder to recognize them as children when the older ones are nearly fully grown and so responsible.

The room remains occupied by Y/n, Alicent, Rhaenyra, and Ser Harwin, the latter noticing the way the Queen chewed on her bottom lip while in thought as she began pacing the room, "What is it?"

"I wish to know who among our court would want me dead, and if their intentions have any motive behind hiring my attacker."

"If the assassin had lived, we could have questioned him," Harwin had commented.

"Not likely," Queen Y/n shook her head, "The maester may confirm this, but I believe the attacker's tongue might have been cut out prior to assaulting me. I remember he never spoke a word, only making pained noises and grunting. Whoever helped him into the castle was more careful than my father. Whoever they are, they covered their tracks."

~~~~~~~~~

It was well into the next day and yet none of them left Y/n's side. They had all stayed up the entire night, debating on what to do next as the Queen anxiously waited for news from Oldtown. To try and distract her, both Alicent and Rhaenyra offered to assist in looking through the letters asking for Helaena's hand in marriage. The three women had done so until morning, with Harwin standing guard inside the room and Ser Criston guarding outside of it.

Ser Criston had yet to be informed of Daemon and Aemond's return when they all heard the familiar roars of Caraxes and Vhagar flying overhead, even shaking the floor of Y/n's chambers. The Queen abruptly stood from her chair, running to her balcony to spot the two dragons for herself. However, they had flown directly to the Dragonpit and they were now too far for Y/n to see who sat on top of their mounts. Anxious to see the riders with her own two eyes, the Queen sprinted out of her chambers, barely acknowledging the others shouting her name behind her. She knew for a fact that Ser Harwin and Criston were running after her, but Alicent and Rhaenyra's voices faded away, not following Y/n, most likely because of the princess' round stomach.

Y/n paid no mind to courtesy or manners as she ran through the halls of the castle, not even nodding her head whenever a servant or lord stopped to bow in greeting her. She even kicked off her shoes, grace be damned, so that she may pick up her skirts and take two steps at a time down the winding staircases.

By the time she ordered guards to open the doors of the Red Keep, the front gates were slowly rising. Y/n bounded down the steps of the courtyard, finally stopping to catch her breath as she anxiously waits for whoever to come through. Daemon entered first, followed by his nephew. Aemond, however, was occupied with another silver-haired individual, the older brother playfully shoving a younger boy forward.

Although upon looking at him, Y/n could hardly describe him as a boy. Daeron, and the age of six and ten, was technically a man grown, though he could never possibly reach the same height as Aemond or Daemon. He always kept his traditional Targaryen hair short, at least to his shoulders, and Y/n's eyes briefly squinted at the green-colored apparel her youngest son wore before quickly forgetting about it, her smile uncomfortably stretching as her eyesight began to blur.

Daeron had kept his gaze on the Queen, even as the front gates closed behind them. The courtyard was still until the young prince stepped forward, his own smile smaller than Y/n's but it was one of relief and shyness, "Hello, Mother."

She broke after that, huffs of laughter under her breath as joyful tears ran down her face. Y/n opened up her arms and Daeron dutifully fell into them, hiding into her shoulder as his mother hugged him tightly, shaking with relief.

~~~~~~~~~

"Has Daeron comfortably moved back in?" Viserys asked his wife that following night, both of them sitting at the corner of the Small Council table, alone.

"Yes. Although I wouldn't be surprised if we found him in one of his sibling's rooms the next morning," Y/n smiled fondly behind the lip of her wine glass, "Aemond said that he was thrilled to be coming home. Apparently, he hated Oldtown."

"And your father? What has become of him?"

Y/n's smile falls, immediately avoiding her husband's gaze as she carefully swirls the wine in her goblet, watching the small whirlpool instead of the King's reaction, "I don't know. I didn't bother to ask."

Viserys sighed, all too well acquainted with Daemon's temper and his opinion of Lord Otto, "Well, my men will be there in a few days and they will make do with what is left of Otto Hightower."

The Queen sets her goblet on the table and leaned back in her chair, drumming her fingers against the arms, "Perhaps Daemon chose mercy. Perhaps he wished to surprise us and soon the Kingsguard will bring my father back alive and whole."

It was a comforting thought, but Viserys only huffed in amusement, "Knowing my brother, I wouldn't get your hopes up, my dear."

They both laugh from their chests, even if there wasn't much mirth behind it. They settle back into a comfortable silence again, while a thought comes to Viserys' mind. It pleases him, and he outwardly shows with the broad, toothless smile he gifts his wife, "You know... even though you're kind and caring, you're also fierce and harsh. Those are tremendous qualities, my love, that not many can possess. Did you know what the smallfolk call you? The Good Queen. My grandmother, Queen Alysanne, was also nicknamed the Good Queen."

Her curious expression slowly melts into a fond smile, allowing Viserys to continue as he sets down his own wine goblet, "It's an honorable title, perhaps more honorable than just being a King or Queen. It goes to show that you are well-loved and you are good at what you do... I often wonder what would happen to this kingdom and this family without you, especially after nearly losing you last night."

Y/n's heart squeezes in her chest, touched by her husband's words. Eyebrows furrowed and lips turned up, the Queen looked over at Viserys with sympathy as she reached her hand over to grasp his, holding it tight, "Best not to dwell on it, my King."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: It took me an embarrassing long time to realize I was spelling ‘Jacaerys’ wrong. I blame Rhaenyra for giving her son such a difficult name.

I hope you’ve enjoyed! This will likely be the last part of ‘The Good Queen’ since I don’t think it really needs to be a series. It’s bad enough that I have three other series that need updating. Please leave a request in my pm or ask box!

Inspiration for this chapter HERE

[thelunarsystemwrites]

200 259 followers DTIYS!!

Finally after FAR too long debating, I finally drew up a DTIYS!! It was originally supposed to be for 200 followers, but uh... a little late!

Before I get into any rules or anything, I just- I gotta thank some people. People like my Twin, and platonic spouse aren't on Tumblr, BUT!

@tobi-draws a best friend and, honestly family to me. You might not have any idea how much your writing has helped me get through life, but it has. Any time you've updated is a good time for me! you're incredibly talented and I am honored to be your friend!! Ily!! /fam!

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[marichive]

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Catelyn Tully / Stark in A Game of Thrones , the first book of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ Where are the children? ❞

❝ Is he afraid? ❞

❝ He is only three. ❞

❝ He must learn to face his fears. ❞

❝ Winter is coming. ❞

❝ The man died well, I’ll give him that. ❞

❝ You would have been proud of him. ❞

❝ I’m always proud of him. ❞

❝ The poo man was half mad. Something had put a fear in him so deep that my words could not reach him. ❞

❝ It will only grow worse. The day may come when I will have no choice but to call the banners. ❞

❝ He is nothing for us to fear. ❞

❝ There are darker things beyond the Wall. ❞

❝ You listen to too many of her stories. ❞

❝ No living man has ever seen one. ❞

❝ You did not come here to tell me tales. ❞

❝ I know how little you like this place. ❞

❝ What is it, My Lady? ❞

❝ There was grievous news today, My Lord. ❞

❝ I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself. ❞

❝ I am so sorry, my love. He is dead. ❞

❝ Is this news certain? ❞

❝ It was the king’s seal, and the letter is in his own hand. ❞

❝ I saved it for you. ❞

❝ That is some small mercy, I suppose. ❞

❝ His memory will haunt each stone. ❞

❝ She needs the comfort of family and friends around her. ❞

❝ The letter had other tidings. ❞

❝ The king is riding to seek you out. ❞

❝ We should send word to your brother. ❞

❝ And he gives us no more notice than this? ❞

❝ Where the king goes, the realm follows. ❞

❝ Please, guard your tongue. ❞

❝ Kings are not like other men. ❞

❝ Can’t you see the danger that would put us in? ❞

❝ I never asked for this cup to pass to me. ❞

❝ What is it? My Lady, you’re shaking. ❞

❝ There is grief in this message, I can feel it. ❞

❝ This is no time for false modesty. ❞

❝ My father went south once, to answer the summons of a king. He never came home again. ❞

❝ There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. ❞

❝ He must learn to rule, and I will not be here for him. ❞

❝ He must be ready when his time comes. ❞

❝ You know how he loves to climb. ❞

❝ This is hard, I know. ❞

❝ He is my blood, and that is all you need to know. ❞

❝ He cannot stay here. He is your son, not mine. I will not have him. ❞

❝ A boy with a bastard’s name . . . you know what they will say of him. He will be shunned. ❞

❝ How can you be so damnably cruel? ❞

❝ When the time comes, I will tell him myself. ❞

❝ I can’t leave him, even for a moment. ❞

❝ I have to be with him. ❞

❝ He’s not going to die. ❞

❝ What if he needs me and I’m not here? ❞

❝ I need you too. I’m trying, but I can’t . . . I can’t do it all by myself. ❞

❝ He needs to hear them sing. ❞

❝ Don’t be afraid. ❞

❝ Swear to me you’ll sleep. ❞

❝ It’s good to know my son’s life was not sold cheaply. ❞

❝ What I am about to tell you must not leave this room. ❞

❝ You have my oath. ❞

❝ If this is true, he will pay for it. I’ll kill him myself! ❞

❝ Never draw your sword unless you mean to use it. ❞

❝ I must go myself. ❞

❝ The honor of carrying a lady like yourself is all the reward I need. ❞

❝ The captain was just telling me that our voyage is almost at an end. ❞

❝ I have not been the most valiant of protectors. ❞

❝ The moment we go ashore we are at risk. ❞

❝ There are those at court who will know you on sight. ❞

❝ It’s one thing to be clever and another to be wise. ❞

❝ A man must make his own choices. ❞

❝ Even in a place like this, one never knows who may be watching. ❞

❝ Why have I been brought here in this fashion? ❞

❝ You were not mistreated, I trust? ❞

❝ I am not accustomed to being summoned like a serving wench. ❞

❝ I’ve angered you, My Lady. That was never my intent. ❞

❝ A wife is allowed to yearn for her husband. ❞

❝ Please don’t expect me to believe that. ❞

❝ This sudden trip of yours bespeaks a certain urgency. ❞

❝ I beg of you, let me help. ❞

❝ I know things. That is the nature of my service. ❞

❝ I am soaked through. Even my bones are wet. ❞

❝ There is an inn at the crossroads up ahead. ❞

❝ I hope I have not spoken out of turn. I meant no offense. ❞

❝ Frank talk does not offend me. ❞

❝ You are far from home. ❞

❝ Your home is in my heart. ❞

❝ Take off your helm. I would look on your face again. ❞

❝ I have not been a child in many years. ❞

❝ Suspicion casts a long shadow. ❞

❝ It seems to me she is only playing at courtship. She enjoys the sport. ❞

❝ A woman can rule as wisely as a man. ❞

❝ Pride? Arrogance, some might call it. Arrogance and avarice and lust for power. ❞

❝ I, however, am innocent as a little lamb. Shall I bleat for you? ❞

❝ I promise you, my lady, no harm will come to you. ❞

❝ I do not frighten easily. ❞

❝ I am going to die here. ❞

❝ I . . . I cannot do this. ❞

❝ I’ll come back for you. ❞

❝ I don’t want to look. ❞

❝ Keep your eyes closed if you like. ❞

❝ Have you taken leave of your senses!? ❞

❝ Isn’t he beautiful? ❞

❝ The seed is strong. ❞

❝ Not in front of the baby. ❞

❝ These are not times for delicacy. ❞

❝ You’re scaring the boy. ❞

❝ We’re safe here. ❞

❝ Don’t be a fool. No one is safe. If you think hiding here will make them forget you, you are sadly mistaken. ❞

❝ No castle is impregnable. ❞

❝ Tell me the rest of it. ❞

❝ I should have been woken. ❞

❝ Isn’t it a lovely morning? The gods are smiling on us. ❞

❝ Alive, he has value. Dead, he is only food for crows. ❞

❝ It’s said that poison is a woman’s weapon. ❞

❝ He’s too fond of the sight of blood on that sword of his. ❞

❝ Stand and fight, coward! ❞

❝ My son is leading a host to war. ❞

❝ When night falls, there are said to be ghosts, cold vengeful spirits of the North. ❞

❝ Remind me not to linger here. ❞

❝ You’ve grown a beard. ❞

❝ You are as fair as ever, a welcome sight in troubled times. ❞

❝ Can you understand why I might fear? ❞

❝ The real message is in what she does not say. ❞

❝ I know the sound of a threat, even whispered. ❞

❝ They have her hostage, and they mean to keep her. ❞

❝ Our best hope, our only true hope, is that you can defeat the foe in the field. ❞

❝ You cannot afford to seem indecisive in front of men like these. ❞

❝ It is not my intent to linger here long. ❞

❝ I’ll speak any way I like, damn you. ❞

❝ I have agreed to take them as wards. ❞

❝ Let him grow as tall as his father, and hold his own son in his arms. ❞

❝ You should let the men see you before battle. I will give them courage. ❞

❝ And who will give me courage? ❞

❝ So this is what death sounds like. ❞

❝ I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it. ❞

❝ It is not your sword I want, ser. ❞

❝ He . . . he killed them . . . ❞

❝ If they hadn’t tried to stop him — ❞

❝ Your men did what they were sworn to do. ❞

❝ Grieve for them. Honor them for their valor. But not now. You have no time for grief. ❞

❝ Your grief is mine. ❞

❝ I swear it, you will have your vengeance. ❞

❝ Will that bring him back to me? ❞

❝ I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. ❞

❝ I shared his bed and bore his children. Do you think I love him any less than you? ❞

❝ I will mourn for him until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. ❞

❝ I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. ❞

❝ I want to write an end to this. I want to go home. ❞

❝ Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? ❞

❝ It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead! ❞

❝ There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to. ❞

[greensagephase]

I saw on one of your recent posts that you mentioned your birthday is on Wednesday so I wanted to take the time and wish you a very happy birthday!! 🥳✨ (but if I'm early then happy early birthday!!) You are absolutely the sweetest and nicest person I've ever talked to and the first moot I've ever just interacted with this much on here!! and I truly enjoy every one of our conversations and of course, your amazing stories!! Reading your stories and taking the time to talk with you on here has made the rest of my year so much better, really!🥹 Especially with school and everything, and you’ve also given me so much inspiration to draw after not doing so after some time. I’ll try not to make this too long but Alondra, you’re an amazing and wonderful person (and writer!!), and I wish you all the best, always!!! ❤️✨

Also wanted to make you a little drawing/card for your birthday!! ✨ I wanted to include the color “Rosa Mexicano” with some of the flowers as you mentioned wanting to include it with your spidersona to honor your Mexican Heritage and it's such a beautiful color. Also wanted to include the color sage green (or at least a version of it) because I’m guessing you also like that color too from your username! (and it's also just a great color!) I hope you have an amazing birthday Alondra, you deserve the best!! 🥳🥳

There's about ten minutes left before the 6th is over for me and THIS IS THE BEST WAY TO END MY BIRTHDAY ❤️😭 @sunsetdoodler I started to freak out as soon as I scrolled down a bit to keep reading and saw there was an image attached and then I saw it and STARTED TO SCREAM - I LOVE IT SO MUCH OH MY GOD!!!! IT'S PERFECT AND SO SO SWEET THANK YOU😭😭😭 I'm literally crying as I type this because it's one of the best gifts I've ever received, THANK YOU !!! I'm just going to keep saying it, I'm sorry !! But oh my god!! Yes, I love the color sage green!! I like green overall but sage green is one of my favorite shades of it!! I've had this username for about two years since I started liking the color and I thought it was just going to be a phase, so that's where my username came from lol but I'm still in love with it two years later! THE FACT YOU INCLUDED ROSA MEXICANO, NO, I LOVE YOU FR!!! THANK YOU for including it ❤️❤️ also the decorations on the cake!!! They look like poinsettias to me and I absolutely love them!! My mom gets me an arrangement every year for my birthday, so I'm just delighted by that detail, I'm seriously crying right now but they're happy tears!!! 🥹 I'm really sorry for screaming but THEN THERE'S MIGUEL - STOP IT, I'M CRYING EVEN MORE NOW!!! HE LOOKS SO SWEET AND SOFT AND HIS SMILE????!!! SCREAMING AND CRYING!!! AND THE LITTLE BLUSH??? I'M LITERALLY GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET WHILE CRYING !!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT - YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!!!!! ❤️😭

Thank you so much for the sweet words and birthday wishes @sunsetdoodler😭You're one of the few moots I interact with and it has also made my last half of the year so much better!!! I genuinely didn't think that I'd be on here interacting much since I had no plans to write this much, which is really funny to think about now, haha! But I'm so thankful I'm on here and that you went off anon because we're moots ❤️I really enjoy talking with you when possible (which by the way, I meant to reply today to part 8's drawing but today just kind of went by, I'm sorry!!) and just getting to interact with you and hear about your schooling, which I hope everything is going well with, and life overall!!! You've given me so much inspiration for Miguel, too and your drawings, as always, make my days!!!! Please know that I truly cherish everything and us being moots makes me so happy I decided to start writing on here!!!!!❤️

@sunsetdoodler my birthday was a great one this year!! I had the amazing opportunity to spend it with my loved ones again and I had some bomb food as well (barbacoa and rice with homemade tortillas and some agua de Jamaica to drink!). It was already an amazing day and your drawing/card and sweet words and wishes were just the best way to end my 25th birthday!! THANK YOU SO, SO, SO MUCH!!!! It means so much to me, seriously, thank you from the bottom of my heart @sunsetdoodler❤️❤️❤️ I hope everything is going well with school and life in general, as always!!! And I'm sending you a warm virtual hug!!! THANK YOU ( I said it so much but seriously, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!)!!!✨❤️✨

[yandere-daze]

any thoughts abt self aware akatsuki? they seem to be very devoted to their goals and the ones they cherish, while also being especially dangerous at times so im curious as to how you can basically approach the super yandere side of them n all, they seem like some real awesome guys ngl.

Starting this off by saying that I haven´t read too many stories featuring Akatsuki so some of my ramblings may be a bit out of character! I hope you still enjoy this though!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, mention of violence

Self-aware Yandere! Akatsuki

I think I mentioned it before in an ask that talked about sticking to Kuro and Souma before but you´d definitely be kept safe from any physical harm if you stuck around Akatsuki. Souma has his sword that he wouldn´t hesitate to use on anyone that threatened you, Kuro who is trained in martial arts and had a delinquent phase, and even Keito was the former captain of the archery club.

They´re all very protective of you and while Keito is more-so the type that wards off the other characters with his words and frequent scoldings, he would be willing to use his bow to eliminate a target if he felt like it was the only option.

Keito is usually pretty strict, even with his fellow members in Akatsuki, so it´s even more noticeable when he gets soft around you. It´s like he´s a completely different person and even though he would occasionally scold you when you got into trouble or were hanging around other idols too much, there would be no bite in his words.

He tries to keep his infatuation hidden from you so he mostly acts on his own urges by instead drawing or writing out the scenarios that he wishes he could enact with you in real life. His stories just happen to be romances where the two main characters strongly resemble both of you. There he can let his thoughts run wild and he can imagine holding you close or kissing you as much as he likes. He wouldn´t admit to doing this, especially not to you, but soon Keito gets commissioned by other idols to draw the same kind of scenarios for them.

He doesn´t like doing it, no doubt about it

Kuro is very caring towards you and doesn´t want you to be scared of him because of his outer appearance. He loves sewing new clothes for you and he also loves seeing you wear them because it´s almost like you´re wearing a part of him. He spends so many hours sewing these outfits too, he´s not sparing any efforts. Also, his little sister probably knows of you from how often Kuro talks about you at home and has more than once asked if you two were dating or when you would finally get married.

Kuro is a very protective yandere, wanting you to be safe at all times, which is why he would stick around you a lot. It´s the best way to make sure nothing happens to you, right? Honestly just having someone strong looking like Kuro standing next to you is probably enough to keep most strangers from ever approaching you. He´s usually not fond of how different his appearance is from his true character, but he feels like in this case it´s very beneficial. For the most part, he doesn´t need to lift a finger to keep you safe.

Of course, that doesn´t work with the other idols that know what Kuro really is like, they´re still going to want to talk to you. So it´s only in these moments where Kuro would actively shield you from “harm” by standing right between the both of you and telling the other person to leave. He doesn´t really want to get violent in front of you, so he holds himself back if he can help it. He´s more likely to “visit” the person later and throw a few punches there where you can´t see what he´s doing.

Souma is probably the one most likely and prepared to commit violence in your honor. He comes from a proud samurai family and so he holds ideas like honor in very high regard. He always carries around a sword and he´s determined to use it to protect the people that he thinks are worth protecting. Naturally, you are one of these people. He looks up to you for all you have done for Akatsuki and him specifically while you were still playing the game and possessing Anzu. You always knew exactly what to say and do to make sure things move along well and Souma greatly admires you for that. It´s no surprise that he puts you on a bit of a pedestal. In his eyes, you can do no wrong and so anyone that opposes you is automatically wrong. His old-fashioned ideals don´t really help him with this black-and-white thinking either.

Souma is also very emotionally driven which only further urges him to protect you from any perceived harm. He´s another one that wants to be around you at all times to make sure that you´re safe. He can´t bear the thought of anything happening to you, the kindest and most gracious person to ever exist. Anyone that disagrees must simply meet the end of his blade.

Different from Keito for example, Souma wouldn´t try to hide the fact that he´s pretty obsessed with you. He´s honest to a fault and thus likes to proclaim how important you are to him and how he would do absolutely anything if you asked him to.

The serious tone in his voice tells you that he isn´t joking around.

[shadowynn]

(preview of yandere!vampire!cult!poly!ateez au wip below the cut!)

merry christmas and happy holidays!! in honor of this festive time of the year, I was hoping to do a short christmasy drabble with in love and lore, but am sorry to announce my procrastination has gotten the better of me to the point it’s just not getting done, at least not in time for this christmas.

speaking of in love and lore, I have hit a rough bit of writer’s block, so I’ve taken a short break to just clear my mind and enjoy the season. the last thing I want is to force things and come to hate writing it. I’ll be visiting my family this week, but once I’m back home, I’ll be back to writing. I have a few ideas floating around in how I want the next chapter to go, and hoping for the next chapter to come out mid-January at the latest.

however, I would like to give you all something, so I have decided to give you all a short preview of a wip that hit me like a storm this past week. It’s based off the movie 1BR on Netflix, with the inclusion of vampires because I just couldn’t help myself. Keep in mind, that this is a very early wip and that it’s still in major development. with that also being said, I do not plan on making this work as big as a project as in love and lore. More as just a series of drabbles and scenarios. like there will still be a plot, but not the world building that my other work has. but who knows, maybe as it develops, it’ll get there.

so, without further ado, I present to you a preview of… The Paradigm Complex

“So, what do you think?”

You were startled from your thoughts at the voice that spoke up next to you. The seat beside you that had previously been empty now occupied by the sweet-talking man who had been your tour guide for the day - Yeosang if you were recalling it correctly. It had surprised you how young he was when you had signed in for the open house earlier that afternoon, and you were once again struck by that very same thought as he plopped down next to you, head propped up by the elbow that rested against the table. 

“It’s very nice,” you replied, eyes once more taking in the scene around. After touring the available unit for the first half of the showing, you had been brought to the center of the complex that was used as a community center. The outside area was enclosed by the building around it and included everything from a garden and greenhouse to a swimming pool and grilling area. “And the community also seems very nice and safe.” 

You referred to the young boy currently sitting in your lap, content with drawing on one of the backs of the application you had been given at the end of the tour to fill out. You didn’t know anything past his given name, Junseo, but he had become attached to you when you noticed him crying on the ground near the garden. While the others in your group had swept their eyes right by the sniffling child, you had approached him, rustling through your purse for the bandages you kept when you noticed the cut on his knee. His mother had thanked you profusely when he led you to her, too busy tending to another part of the garden to notice what had happened. And though you had left him with her, it didn’t take long for him to return to you, preferring your company over the other kids milling around while his mother worked. 

You thought it strange, but the wave the mother sent you when she saw him with you told you she didn’t mind, making you wonder just what sort of community there was here for her and the others to be comfortable with letting their children run free. 

It was just another factor that told how nice this place was. Everything about this place was nice. Nicer than any place you had ever lived in before. It was perfect, everything you could wish for, but-

“But…” As though he had read your mind, the man finished your train of thought, a hint of a smile tracing his lips as his eyes traveled to the papers you had left blank up to this point. The only markings on them from the scribbling Junseo had done along their backs. 

“But it’s a bit out of my price range, I’m afraid.” 

A bit was an understatement; the place was double what you could afford. You had known that going in though. The Paradigm housing complex had made a name for itself within the past few years as one of the most prestigious and highly exclusive apartment complexes in the city, and you had known the price for the available unit would be high above your budget. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from signing up for the open house the following weekend when you noticed a few spots were still available. It wasn’t often a unit became vacant, the last one had been nearly a year ago, and the timing had been impeccable. 

You weren’t really looking for a new place to live. You had one in the south end of town with your boyfriend, and yet, that hadn’t stopped you from looking at available housing in the city on your laptop late at night when he was still at ‘work’. You wanted out. You had wanted out for months since you had first caught wind he was cheating, and still cheating, but it had always seemed so impossible. You were still finishing up your last year in school, and even with working enough hours to be considered full time at the bookstore, you could barely afford your half of the rent. A fact he readily reminded you of any time you wanted to leave him. As much as you hated every time he said it, he was right. You needed him. Unless you were willing to sacrifice your own safety and move into a shitty unit in a sketchy part of town, you were stuck where you were. You needed him and he knew it. 

Perhaps it was because of this that you had come out today. He had been scheduled for a weekend shift at the hospital, leaving you free to come to the open house without him questioning you on your whereabouts as you left. The Paradigm was a life you could never afford, and yet, it was nice to escape reality for a few hours. To sit and imagine what your life would be like if you hadn’t landed yourself in such a sticky situation. And yet, you hadn’t expected the stab of melancholy that had hit you as you had roamed the studio apartment available for rent, nor as you sat here in the courtyard with the pleasant buzz of the complex’s current tenants as they roamed through the area. 

“Does that mean you’re looking for a place on your own, then?” he asked, attempting to blow the piece of hair the wind had cast in front of his eye. 

“Myself?” You asked, not quite fully understanding which way he meant his statement and feeling a tad panicked at the thought of leaving your boyfriend to start afresh on your own. Was that something you could really do? “Uh, yeah, it would just be me.” 

“Well, if you ask me, it doesn’t hurt to still apply. We’re always more than willing to negotiate prices for the right person,” he hummed, fingers tapping against the table. “Though it would probably be best if I grabbed you a new copy. Junseo doesn’t seem too keen on letting yours go at the moment.” Junseo looked up at the mention of his name, and matched the goofy smile Yeosang sent his way. 

“That’s very kind of you, but even then…” You turned your face away, fighting the blush the embarrassment your current situation brought. Despite attempting to dress up for the event, you still stuck out from the other people who had signed up. The designer clothes and handbags a stark contrast from your thrifted outfit. Hell, even Junseo had nicer clothes than you to run around the garden in. “To be completely honest, I just really wanted to get an inside peek of this place. I knew I can’t afford to live somewhere like this at the moment, but I thought it might be fun to just see what it would be like.”

You resituated Junseo’s position in your lap, taking in the people milling around the grounds. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm. The perfect day to spend some time outside and enjoy what remained of the summer. You could see yourself fitting in well here. Helping out in the garden in between playing with the few children roaming the grounds. Maybe even take a dip in the pool to cool off from a hard day’s work before lounging in a nearby lounge to soak up the last of the summer sun. 

It was just too bad that was a lifestyle you couldn’t afford on your own. Not while you were still in school and struggling with bills and debt as it was. 

“But you are currently looking for a new place to live, right?”

“It’s not an immediate necessity at the moment, but yes,” you nodded, “if given the opportunity, I would move in a heartbeat. Not just here, but anywhere. As long as it was safe and something I could call my own.”

“Then fill out an application.” He ruffled around in his bag, pulling out another application and pen and pushing it towards you. “I’m close with the owner and can put in a good word for you. Just fill it out, list the rent you can feasibly pay at the moment, and we might be able to work something out. After all, we’re much more concerned about quality than quantity here at Paradigm.”

“You would do that?” Your eyes widened, wondering why on earth this man would do that for you when the rest of your group would be willing to pay twice the starting rent just for the opportunity to say they lived in the most exclusive complex in the city. “Why?”

“I like to think I have a nose for good people,” he smiled, fingers tapping against the application, “and you’re a good person, y/n, I can smell it. So, come on, Junnie,” he reached for the boy on your lap, ignoring the pout that crossed his lips as he took him from your hold, “let’s get you back to your mother so the pretty lady can fill out her application.”

He left you at that, but only made it a few feet before he was stopped by a nearby couple that had been in your group. By the glance they sent your way, you could tell they had overheard Yeosang’s mention of putting in a good word for you and hoped to earn a similar feat for themselves. After all, it didn’t matter who the first person to apply for the unit was or who was the highest bidder when it came to the Paradigm. You didn’t get to choose whether or not you lived here. They chose you. And a good word from the tour guide was exactly what you needed to get in. Not wanting to stick around for the conversation, Junseo wriggled his way out of Yeosang’s grasp and made off in the direction of his mother with one last toothy grin in your direction. 

You turned to the second application he had handed towards you, twirling the pen in your hand as you mulled the decision over. None of it made much sense in your mind. Why would they select your application when there was hundreds of others that would willingly pay triple what you could? But even if that was the case, what did you have to lose by following through with it? If it didn’t go through, and you weren’t selected, you’d still be exactly where you were now. In a shitty situation, but no shittier than it already was. And on the tiny chance it did go through, well, your entire life could change. You would have that fresh start you had been yearning for so long. 

That and, well, there was something charming about Yeosang. It didn’t slip your notice that he had called you pretty in passing, and though you knew it was just the way his personality seemed to be, you still felt a pull towards him. He was someone you felt you could get along with. Someone you would enjoy getting to know and become friends with if you only had the chance to. 

So, before you could give it too much thought and talk yourself out of it, you pulled the application closer towards you and began writing. 

~

You weren’t the type of person to pick up unknown calls, but something about the number that flashed on your screen as you waited out your lunch break in your car seemed familiar. You didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, not after all the shit you had dealt with the first half of your shift, but your finger still hovered over the accept button as you quickly searched your brain for whose number it could have been. Thinking it might have been your doctor finally returning your call for a refill you had been waiting on or even possibly a call on one of the countless job applications you had been filling out the past few weeks, you grudgingly accepted. Figuring it was better to get it over with now instead of living with the stress of what it might be the rest of your shift. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this y/n l/n?”

“Um, yeah.” You shifted the phone in your hand, trying to place the familiarity of the voice on the other end. Was it finally a call back from one of the job applications you had put in? “This is y/n.”

“This is Kang Yeosang from Paradigm. I’m calling to let you know that your application for unit 617 has been accepted.”

“Wait, are you being serious?”

You couldn’t hold back the gasp his response elicited, sure this was some sort of joke being pulled. Despite Yeosang’s promise of putting in a good word for you, you had never expected anything to come of it. Not when you had followed through with his suggestion and wrote down the actual amount you could feasibly pay for the place. And though you had held on to some hope something would come from it, you had never truly expected to hear from them again. 

“I can assure you, I’m quite serious,” he chuckled. “I talked with the owner about your application and he was willing to accept it with a few added stipulations I would like to discuss with you if you have the time.”

“Oh, okay.” 

You did your best to hide your disappointment, fearing the worst. Despite Yeosang’s insistence they were willing to negotiate on pricing, you should have known they wouldn’t just willingly drop the rent by half for you just because he had felt pity for you. 

“You see, one of our administrative assistants recently put in her resignation and we’re in need of a replacement. When we looked over your application, we noticed the address of your current residence and place of work are on the other side of the city and figured you would likely be in need of a job with a shorter commute if you were to move here.”

The dread which his earlier statement had caused was slowly being replaced with excitement once more as he continued to speak, eagerly hoping he was beginning to allude to what you thought he was. 

“We’d like to extend a job offer towards you here at Paradigm, which if you were to accept, would cover the cost of your rent plus a biweekly stipend to cover any other expenses you might have.”

“And what exactly would the job entail?” you asked, trying hard to cover the shock his reply gave you and trying just as hard to not let your hopes get too high before you figured out exactly what it was he was offering you. There had to be a catch; the offer was just too good to be true. “I’m finishing up my last year of college online, but I would still need some flexibility in my schedule.”

“Oh, it would just be your typical administrative work. You’d mostly be assisting myself and the other managers here at Paradigm and we’d be more than willing to work around your class schedule,” Yeosang replied without skipping a beat. “When you have time, I’ve sent an email to you that includes a detailed description of the job, alongside the logistics of your pay and housing for you to look through so you can have a clearer idea of what you would be signing up for if you were to accept.”

You were silent, unsure of what exactly to say. What could you say? Everything you had wished for the past few months was finally being extended towards you. A new job, housing of your own, and most importantly, a way out of the toxic relationship you had been stuck in for so long. All of it. Everything you dreamed of for so long, now within reach. 

There had to be a catch, right? It couldn’t be as good as it seemed, right? So what was it? A whole new life in exchange for your soul?

“I know this is a lot to take in, so don’t feel as though you have to accept anything right away. Read through the emails I sent you and just give us a call back sometime within the next two weeks with your answer.”

-

and that is a very rough start to my new project. feel free to let me know what you all think and if this is something that you would be interested in! once again, I hope you all had/have a wonderful holiday/Christmas season. :)

[tasmpeter]

𓏲 ˚ ༘ 𖣠 back to the old house

@peacemakernet EVENT 02: once more, with feeling!

— pairing: adrian chase x batfam/wayne!reader

— summary: maybe you should have expected your father would find out you’re dating a wanted criminal. you definitely didn’t expect for your older brother to show up at your house half way across the country. so, it really shouldn’t surprise you that your father is holding a family dinner in adrian’s chases honor.

or in which your family somehow continues to surprise you.

— content warnings: brief smut (piv sex, rough sex, praise kink, mentions of pain kink), caught having sex, mentions of violence, troubling family dynamics, mentions of adoption & orphanage, drinking, daddy issues, reader is the number one adrian chase defender, reader has a crush on starfire. 18+ minors dni.

— authors note: ahh! i finally write something for the peacemakernet <3 i hope i did this right lol! it’s my first time participating in something like this. anyways, i have been obsessing over batfam!reader & spewed this up because i’m obsessed with the awkward dynamics that would happen here. i’ve also been thinking about writing a little backstory/prequel for batfam!reader. also let’s pretend like i didn’t post the second part of the story (it was literally just going to be smut lol).

꒰⸝⸝₊ʚ🦋ɞ┊ unofficial sequel/one shot for to wish for impossible things ꒱

masterlist 𖣠 requests

Falling in love with Adrian Chase was not apart of the plan when you were shipped off to Evergreen, Washington by your father. You had one simple goal: keep an eye on Task Force X and report back to your father once a week on updates. You didn't try to fall in love with Adrian, it just happened. It was slow, and sweet, and incredibly erotic.

As your fake relationship with Adrian turned into a real one, you also came clean to the task force about your reasonings for being in Evergreen. (Harcourt let you know that she already knew about this secret plot and she was just waiting for the rest of them to catch up). The group didn't shun you or push you away once they learned the truth, in fact, it brought you guys closer together. You had found yourself a group of people who accepted you for you. That's a family.

With your father content with the information you pass along with him weekly, you found yourself a home in Evergreen. A peaceful life that you found yourself enjoying. You never thought a life like this would satisfy you. But not having constant cameras on you gave you a freedom you had always craved.

Everything was great, until your father decided to surprise you.

"Fuck me right there, baby! Yes!" You screamed out as Adrian pounded into your wet cunt. Your stiletto nails were drawing blood down Adrian's back as he destroyed your pussy.

"Such a good girl for me. Uh — You are doing such a good job taking my cock," Adrian growled into your ear as the sounds of his animalistic thrusts filled your apartment.

"I'm so — fuck, baby! — I'm so close!" You moaned out as Adrian started to roll his fucking hips as he thrusted into you.

"Go ahead, come for me, baby. Such.. a.. good.. girl," Each word out of Adrian's mouth enunciated with a sharp thrust of his hips.

"God, please don't," A stranger voice called out in the room. You jumped and reached for the batarang under your pillow while Adrian jumped out of you and quickly grabbed his pistol on the nightstand.

You throw the batarang aimlessly and Adrian cocks the gun at the target. Once the batarang whizzes past the intruder, you see who it is. Your fucking brother. Dick Grayson stood in the doorframe of your bedroom, wedging the batarang from its spot in the trim. You motioned for Adrian to lower the gun. He gave you a hesitant look, but ended up agreeing and slowly set it back down onto the table.

"You know, for someone named Dick, you really are a fucking cockblock," You shouted at your brother, wrapping the duvet cover closer around your body. Adrian was still crouching next to the bed, peaking his head up just enough to spot Dick Grayson. He was just as beautiful as they people say. Charcoal black hair and piercing blue eyes, and an ass that looks good even in denim.

"I'm sorry for not wanting to see my baby sister getting plowed by a serial killer," Dick retorted, his haunting blue eyes darting over to Adrian, "Put fucking clothes on and meet me in the living room."

Dick tossed the batarang in the air, caught it, and turned back down your hallway. Once he was out of sight, you threw your head back down onto the pillow and huffed. Adrian slowly rose from his spot on the floor and scurried to find his clothes scattered around your bedroom. He began tossing your clothes onto the bed. He seemed anxious and stressed, so you got out of bed and walked up to Adrian. You still weren't wearing any clothes and Adrian gulped as your naked body was exposed to him.

"You need to put clothes on. I can't get an erection in front of your brother," Adrian said before throwing another shirt at your face.

"You don't need to be nervous, pretty boy. It's just Dick. He's daddy's lap dog. He won't do anything to you, I promise," You consoled Adrian as you slowly slipped Adrian's stolen hoodie over your head and stepped into your panties.

"It's not that. I-It's just the first time I'm meeting your family," Adrian mumbled out as he combed his fingers through his hair to smooth it out.

He was nervous about meeting your brother, not about him possibly being sent to prison. That's kind of cute, actually.

"Just let me do the talking. And don't get swept up in any of Dick's bullshit. He's a charmer," You said as you kissed Adrian's cheek and walked to meet your brother in the living room.

Dick was sat in the little arm chair in the corner, holding a framed photo of you and Jason. (It was taken a few years back. Jason had a bloody nose and you had a gash on your lip. It was the first time you fought side by side with Jason and you had a good time). You slinked onto the couch and watched as Adrian hesitantly sat down next you. He kept at least one inch of space between the two of you, not daring to touch you in front of your brother.

"You don't have any pictures of me. I'm hurt, princess," Dick said as he sat the picture frame back down on the side table. You hated when your siblings would call you princess. A name they began to call you as soon as the press did.

"Jason doesn't call me princess, so," You shot back at your brother.

"Speaking of Jason..."

You rolled your eyes and threw your head back into the sofa, "Ugh, what did he do now?"

Dick laughed, "Nothing, actually. Dad convinced him to join us for a family dinner. Which is why I'm here."

"I am not going to a fucking family dinner," You groaned out.

"It's in your honor, actually. Well, it's in his honor," Dick stated, looking over at Adrian who was fumbling with his hands next to you on the couch.

"Oh fuck no—,"

"I'm not asking, princess. I'm telling. Get your shit together and meet me at the Evergreen air field in an hour. Dad let me take the jet to get you," Dick commanded, before standing up from the velvet arm chair and walking out your front door.

You threw your head back again in frustration and groaned, "I fucking hate this fucking family!"

Adrian quickly scooted closer to you and gently grabbed you hand, "I-It will be fine. We will go to Gotham and—,"

You laughed, "This will be anything but fine, Adrian. Y-You haven't met my family."

"D-Do you not want me to?" Adrian mumbled, playing with your fingers. His eyes were no longer looking into yours, as he usually does when he gets vulnerable with you.

"It's not that, baby. It's just, my family is — collectively a mess. An orphan doesn't just adopt five orphaned children without having a chaotic household," You said, cupping Adrian's jawline and brushing your thumb along his cheek. Adrian nuzzled into your hand and slightly nodded.

"Do you think Batman is going to arrest me?"

You giggled and Adrian's smile grew. It did every time you laughed, "No. He wants to meet you. Which, I think is worse than wanting to arrest you. Prepare yourself for some very invasive questions."

You and Adrian arrived at Evergreen Air field exactly one hour after your brother. You only brought bare necessities as most of your possessions were still in your bedroom at home. Adrian only wanted to bring his Vigilante suit but you convinced him to bring a nice button up shirt for dinner. This was Adrian's first time on an airplane, he confessed to you on the car ride to the air field, and you promised that he would be perfectly fine. (A Wayne jet is far safer than any regular Boeing). You and Adrian sat in the cream seats across from Dick — not before you grabbed a mimosa from the flight attendant.

"I think we should go over some ground rules of the Manor," Dick said, sipping his sparkling water.

"That's probably best," You muttered out, setting your mimosa in the cup holder. Your other hand was still attached to Adrian's, which your brother noticed.

"Okay, Adrian. Rule One: do not touch anything unless you are told. Rule Two: do not go anywhere unless you are told. And Rule Three: don't look at Damian in the eyes, he can smell fear," Dick listened to rules and Adrian tried his hardest to integrate the new information into his brain. He did not want to fuck this up. He is meeting Bruce Wayne, the Batman, and your father. If he messed this up, he would land himself in Arkham for life.

"Don't acknowledge Damian. He's insane because he was trained by his League of Assassins mommy. If you even breath wrong, he will say something," You said to Adrian, taking another sip of the mimosa.

"League of Assassins? That sounds cool as hell. I want to join," Adrian pouted and Dick started laughing. You shot daggers at Dick.

"Trust me, Adrian. You do not want to join the League of Assassins. Ra's al Ghul would kill you on-site," Dick chuckled out. Adrian frowned and you squeezed his hand a little tighter.

The rest of the plane ride was as, normal, as a jet ride could go. It was only an hour flight, given the speed of the plane. You caught up with Dick.

("So, will Kori be joining us for dinner? Or are you dating Babs today?" You asked, clutching your third mimosa and smirking a little at your brother.

"I don't bring Kori around after you tried to fuck her the last time she was over," Dick mumbled out, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I just wanted her to know that when you two inevitably broke up again, that I was available for her," You smirked out. Adrian's eyes were popping out of his head at the banter. He didn't know you were into girls as well. He was going to have to follow up with you on that one.

"I think you said, and I quote: 'When you figure out that you are too good for Dick. I'll be here for you with open arms and open legs'.")

Upon landing, Alfred Pennyworth picked you up for the airport. If anyone asked, you would say that Bruce Wayne is your father, but Alfred raised you. Which is true. Alfred taught you, cared for you while your father was fighting crime in the streets of Gotham. When you saw him on the tarmac, you ran up to him and gave him a huge hug.

"Alfred! Ugh, I missed you," You said into Alfred's expensive blazer.

"I missed you too, Miss Wayne. The manor hasn't been the same without you," Alfred said, rubbing a gentle hand on your spine.

"Well, there is no one to stop Tim and Damian from killing each other now," You laughed. You motioned for Adrian to come over, which he hesitantly did. He stood besides you two awkwardly, shifting his weight between feet and looking anywhere but into your eyes.

"Alfred, this is Adrian Chase, my boyfriend. Adrian, this is Alfred. He basically raised me, seeing as Dad was never home," You laughed, waving a hand in between the two. Adrian's hand jumped out to give Alfred's a firm handshake.

"It's so nice to meet you, Mister Pennyworth," Adrian exclaimed, jerking their hands up and down aggressively.

Alfred's knowing eyes shot to you, "It's nice to meet you too, Mister Chase. Master Wayne has been dying to meet you."

You groaned and slipped into the black limousine. Adrian, who has also never been in a limo before, slid into the car behind you. His eyes were in awe of the dim lights and spacious room in the back of the car.

"I always forget you are super rich," Adrian whispered into your ear. You grabbed a champagne flute from the little cart and passed another one to Adrian.

"The money is the only plus side of being a Wayne. Cheers to the most fucked up family on the planet!" You toasted your glass between Adrian and Dick, who clinked flutes with yours.

"You could say that again," Dick mumbled out before taking a sip.

Wayne Manor was located in the countryside of Gotham. There was no neighbors for miles, and you could only see the Gotham Skyline peaking out in the distance. It was another rainy day in Gotham and the dark clouds that surrounded Wayne Manor made it look haunted. It was dark, old, and gothic. The iron gates that stood tall in front of the Manor were a warning. It wasn't a sparkling, modern mansion as Adrian expected. The home was owned by the brooding Batman, so he shouldn't have expected much. There was a couple of staff members awaiting your arrival on the grand staircase outside, ready to grab your luggage and escort you to the proper rooms. Dick exited the limo first. Then Adrian, who held your hand as you left the car. You squeezed his hand anxiously and slowly started up the stone staircase.

Jason Todd greeted you as you entered into the foyer. You screamed his name when you saw him, and took off into Jason's arms. He caught you, and brought you in to a big hug. Jason swung you in his arms for a few seconds before setting you back down on the original hardwood floors.

"Hey, little bird. Haven't seen you in awhile," Jason said, his voice was very quiet and you really had to pay attention when he spoke.

"I heard you came home just to see your favorite sibling," You said, punching his bicep and chuckling a little.

"I actually came home to meet your new boy toy," Jason nudged his head at Adrian, who looked out of place in the massive victorian structure.

You rolled your eyes, "He's not my boy toy, he's my boyfriend."

"Wow, finally someone got you to settle down. Congrats, man. Little bird, here would never stay with someone more than one night—," Jason directed his attention and words to Adrian. You quickly placed a hand over his mouth, before he could embarrass you anymore.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," You turned to Adrian behind you.

Jason managed to escape his mouth from your grasp, "That's not true. You never brought the same person home —,"

"I was saving myself for Kori, " You blurred out, causing Jason to burst out into laughter.

"Good luck. She's back with Grayson again."

You groaned, "God, when will he just pick one. Wasn't he engaged to Babs like a few months ago?"

"Yeah, tell me about it."

After Jason hastily left as Dick entered the house, you brought Adrian up to your old bedroom. It reminded Adrian a lot of how you decorated the apartment you currently lived in. Fake plants stuffed into random corners, a few magazine covers you did framed on the walls. (There was a picture of your family sitting on your dresser. It was a formal photograph. Jason wasn't included, and everyone was dressed in black. No smiles. It looked militaristic).

"I was hoping to see some boy band posters and stuffed animals," Adrian chuckled out as he threw himself onto your king size bed.

You laid down next to him, placing yourself in between his body and his arm, "I threw those out awhile ago, pretty boy."

Adrian's pink lips folded into a pout, "I can't wait to learn embarrassing stories about you tonight."

You rolled your eyes, "God. Ugh, I don't want to see my dad. I would rather be thrown into the Lazarus pit."

Adrian's eyebrow quirked at the mention of the Lazarus pit. But, he learned very early on into your relationship not to question the random family lore you throw his way. You were much more of a certified superhero anyways, more than Adrian at least.

"We have a few hours before dinner. Do you want to take a bath with me?" You questioned, standing up to peel your shirt off.

Adrian's eyes widened at your braless torso and quickly nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

You told Adrian to wear black to his funeral. His funeral being the family dinner tonight, where he is the guest of honor. You made sure to coach him on his responses while getting ready. Don't ramble, don't stay off topic, and do not mention his extracurricular work. Adrian was eager to impress your father and latched onto every piece of advice you threw at him. You combed his curls back out of his face and placed him in a black button up and some slacks. Adrian, who normally only wore zip ups and blue jeans, was always so excited to dress up. He always mumbled about finally getting his Princess Diaries Makeover Moment. (You always put a little blush on his cheeks and lip gloss on his lips. He liked how the lip gloss tasted and "you can't have a makeover without blush, birdie. It's not possible.").

Adrian pressed a glossy kiss to your red lips and admired your dress. It was a silky navy blue slip dress that suited you so perfectly. Adrian's eyes washed past your hips and to meet your perky nipples peaking out of your dress. You flicked him in the head.

"Don't get any ideas, big guy. The last thing we need is you trying to fuck me during dinner," You shouted out at your clearly horny boyfriend.

"Then you are going to have to change dresses because I cannot take my eyes off your boobs right now."

"Adrian Allen Chase, I will electrocute you in the dick right now," You groaned out as you walked back into your walk in closet.

Adrian's slacks tightened again and he gritted his teeth, "Birdie, you can't just say that to me. You know I—,"

You appeared in the closets door frame in only your bra and underwear. Matching. Teal. Adrian physically had to force himself to look anywhere but your body, "Yeah, I remember. Do you remember how I strapped you to a chair and tased your throbbing cock?"

You were sounding so fucking innocent and naive. Like you didn't know exactly what you were saying. Adrian ground his teeth together to feel anything but how hard he was.

"Stop it, birdie. We- We have to go to dinner," Adrian sputtered out. His eyes attached to the crown molding on your ceilings. His hands clutched together in front of his cock, which was clearly springing out of his slacks.

"But, baby. What if we just stayed here and fucked on every surface of my bedroom?" You questioned as you stalked towards him. Adrian still refused to look into your batting eyelashes and big doe eyes as you pressed yourself into his chest.

"You aren't getting out of this. Go. Get Changed," Adrian spat out, tilting his head to look into your doe eyes. You grumbled and rolled your eyes.

"Okay, dad. Whatever you say," You said as you stumbled back into your closet and found a long sleeve dress that was modest enough for Adrian.

Adrian nodded in approval as you twirled around for him. You grabbed his arm as you two strolled out of bedroom towards the dinning room. The formal family dining room was located on the first of three floors in the Wayne Manor. Tucked behind a sitting room, the dining room was large enough to seat fifty guests. A grand chandelier casted the room into a yellow light, which sparkled off the crystal glasses. At formal family dinners like tonight, Alfred would set out assigned seating. Everyone was forced to one end of the table, never scattered about at different spots around the forty foot mahogany table. Alfred would assign seats under the principle of the least amount of arguments possible. Never seat Jason Todd next to Bruce Wayne or Dick Grayson, and never seat Damian Wayne next to Tim Drake. Damian usually sat closest to Bruce Wayne, as Bruce was able to coral him better than anyone else. Cassandra was usually sat in between Tim and Jason as a buffer. She was didn't talk, but gave a deadly glare to either of the boys if one of them began to chirp up.

As you waltzed into the dining room, you gasped at the seating arrangement. Adrian Chase was placed on the right of Bruce Wayne. Easiest access to stare into his soul and suck the life from his body. You shot a pleading look to Alfred, who scooted your chair out for you to sit.

"I'm sorry, Miss Wayne. Master Wayne requested it," Alfred whispered into your ear as you sat into your chair.

Your siblings started to spill into the room slowly. Jason was sat on your right, Damian was sat on the left of your father, Dick was sat next to Damian, and Cassandra acted as a buffer between Tim and Jason. Jason, who's white streak was prominent under the golden light, gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder as he sat down. All of your siblings had anxiety about this. You hadn't all been in a room together in two years, and a formal dinner held by your father could only end in one way. A train wreck. You wondered how arrogant your father must have felt sending Dick across the country to call for you.

A server was pouring you and Adrian of glass of vintage red wine when Bruce Wayne stepped into the dining room. Adrian's eyes quickly dashed down, now suddenly more interested in the red wine he won't drink. You gently moved your hand to rest on Adrian's thighs. You saw his shoulders jump at the hand on his thigh and he quickly took a big gulp of his wine. You stand corrected.

Bruce sat down at the table and took a sip of his brandy. His eyes washed over all his children before lingering on you and Adrian. You met his cold eyes and sharpened yours. You didn't dare break the stare as you took a sip of your wine and squeezed Adrian's thigh. Then, Bruce's eyes darted to Adrian. Adrian stared at the tip of Bruce's nose, as he learned a trick about looking like you are giving eye contact without actually giving direct eye contact. Bruce gave him a once over, glancing at his trembling hands that were gripping at his napkin.

"Are you just going to give us the death stare, Dad? Or can we get along with the meal?" You snapped after you felt Adrian's tremble reach his thigh. Your eyes darted to Adrian's for a moment, and see him give you a light smile as you protected him from your fathers glances.

"Don't be rude, princess. This dinner is for your boyfriend, anyways," Damian gripped back, taking a sip of his apple juice in his crystal tumbler.

"Shut it, Damian. No one wants to hear from you tonight," Jason chirped up and you snapped your head at him. Of course, not one conversation together could go cordially.

"That's enough," Bruce grumbled as he poured back the brandy into his mouth. He motioned to the staff to start serving plates as you laid your napkin in your lap. The other Wayne's might not have class, but you did. Sometimes.

A four cheese lasagna made from scratch and aged cheese was placed in front of you. You shot a look to your father, "I hope the meal is okay. I heard Adrian liked Italian."

You squeezed Adrian's thigh tighter. Your stiletto nails digging deeper into his thigh. Adrian deeply inhaled and shot you a warning look as you tried to suppress your rage. Of course your father looked into Adrian. It should be expected, but you keep getting more surprised and blind sided with your family each time they speak.

The family started to cut into their steaming hot meals. No one daring to say the first word, and no one daring to look at each other. The room was silent for minutes, expect for the sound of silverware clattering and the sounds of people sipping their drinks.

“So, Adrian. I assume my daughter has told you about her extracurricular activities?” Bruce asked, head turned towards Adrian.

Adrian swallowed his food harshly and his fearful eyes slowly met Bruce’s. He was trying his hardest to keep his eyes from popping out of his skull, “Yes, uh. Yes, sir.”

You squeezed Adrian’s thigh again and you heard him squeeze.

“I see, and I assume you figured out who we all are,” Bruce continued his questioning. He couldn’t help myself. Always had to play detective in whatever room he was in.

Adrian hesitantly nodded. Bruce set his silverware down onto his plate and dabbed the corner of his lips with his napkin, “Well good, then we are all open to speak freely about our situations. I assume he knows the reason as to why you were in Evergreen as well.”

Your fathers attention turned towards you and you felt your breath start to quicken, “He figured out the first day we met. Adrian is very smart. Smarter than most, actually.”

No matter how scared or nervous you may feel, you can never show it. Never show weakness. It was drilled into your head like a lobotomy.

“Now you are really going to get your boyfriend thrown into Arkham, princess,” Tim spoke across the table and you shot him an evil eye.

“Tim, shut your mouth,” You fired back, words laced with venom.

Tim stuck his tongue out at you, “Don’t be mad at me because I was your replacement.”

“Timothy, watch it,” Jason retorted back, defending your honor. Of course he had to enter into the conversation to make things worse.

“Jason, butt out of it,” Dick piped up. Cassandra quickly stabbed her butter knife into the mahogany next to Dick’s hand to get him to be quiet.

“This dinner is suppose to be about our guest. Everyone, please just be civil for one night,” Bruce grumbled out from the head of the table.

“Sure, that’s what this dinner is about. No other ulterior motives to this I’m sure,” You mumbled into your wine glass as you finished off the rest of it.

“Is it so wrong of me to want to get to know my daughters first boyfriend?” Bruce asked, motioning to the server for another glass of brandy.

“We all know why we are here, Dad. You want to see if Adrian is good enough to know our little secret or if you want to throw him into Arkham,” You spat out, slamming your wine glass back into the table and leaning closer to your father.

You saw Damian’s mouth start to open in the corner of your mouth and quickly snapped your attention to him, “Close your mouth right now, Little Boy, or I’ll close it for you.”

Damian glared at you, but quickly closed his mouth and slumped back into his chair. You snapped your head back to your father, who was giving you a look that fathers give their children when they are disappointed. It disgusted you.

“That’s enough,” Bruce snapped at you.

“It’s true, though right? That’s the reason you even bothered on getting us all together. You wanted them to rank my boyfriend in front of his face and debate on whether he gets to have a life. It’s sick and it’s demeaning!” You shouted, all the alcohol you’ve consumed giving you a newfound confidence. You are telling your father off and it feels so good.

Adrian stared at you with amazement. You are defending him in front of the fucking Batman. No one has ever attempted to defend him before, let alone to the founder of the Justice League. You were the coolest person he knew. He was in love with coolest person in the world.

“I was actually going to let you know that you are free of your duties in Evergreen and are free to come home,” Bruce shouted back at you. That caused you to back down and sink into your chair.

“I-I don’t want to come home, Dad,” You stuttered out. Adrian had removed your tight grip on his thigh and you were now squeezing his hand for support. You would never leave Adrian.

“Don’t throw your life away in some hell hole for a piece of shit murderer, princess,” Dick chirped up and you fucking lost it. All the emotions you have been feeling your entire life bubbling up to the surface, and the alcohol finally let you express them.

“He is a person! What — Why do none of you seem to understand that? He’s — He’s literally sitting right here. Y-You don’t get to do this. I see right through all of you. Y-You just invited us here to pick apart, Adrian, and guilt me for dating a vigilante!” You shouted, standing up from your seat at the table. All eyes were on you, even Cassandra’s.

“Let’s go, Adrian. I-I won’t let this happen to you,” You said, looking down at Adrian. His green eyes were soft and looking at you with such admiration. That look made everything you had just said worth it. You would defend Adrian Chase until the day you die, and that’s all that mattered to you.

You outstretched your hand to pull Adrian up. He accepted and stood up with you.

“I-It was nice meeting you all,” Adrian mumbled out with a small wave to your siblings, avoiding your fathers line of sight.

You started to walk off until your fathers voice brought you to a stop, “If you go, I will no longer support you. The apartment, the equipment, it will all be gone.”

You turned your head around, “You never did anyways. At least in any way that mattered.”

When you shut the grand doors of your bedroom, the exhaustion of the night finally hit you. You slumped against the door in an attempt to collect yourself. You completely embarrassed yourself in front of Adrian. Your family made you feel like a fool. They turned you into someone you aren’t. Someone you didn’t like. The Curse of the Wayne’s, you liked to call it. Adrian was carefully peeling off his clothes to shove back into his duffel bag, not noticing you still clutching the door handles.

Once you composed yourself, you slowly shifted over to Adrian. He had changed into a pair of sweatpants that he arrived in and you had a perfect view of his sculpted body. You ran a fingernail over his abs, deciding a jagged scar was more important than looking into Adrian’s eyes.

“I-I’m sorry for embarrassing you, tonight. My family brings out a side of me I don’t really like,” You mumbled out, tracing a bullet hole on his stomach.

“What do you have to be sorry for, birdie? You defending me in front of fucking Batman. That is the dopest thing anyone has done for me, ever,” Adrian exclaimed, pinching your chin between his fingers to tilt your head up.

You looked into his green eyes and couldn’t help but smile, “Really?”

Adrian nodded quickly, which caused his glasses to slid down his nose. You pushed them up the bridge of his nose, “You are the coolest person I know, dude. No one would have the balls to yell at Bruce Wayne.”

You chuckled, “I think I wouldn’t have if I didn’t have that glass of wine.”

“It’s because you loveee me,” Adrian teased, squeezing your hips.

You slapped a hand on his bicep, “Shut your mouth, Chase.”

“Make me,” Adrian stuck his tongue out as he made an effort to cheer you up.

You rolled your eyes and pressed a kiss to his lips, “You’re lucky I love you, Chase. I just threw away millions of dollars for you.”

Adrian’s arm found home in the small of your back, “Does that mean you will be moving in with me?”

You gave him a small smile, “If you’ll have me.”

Adrian abruptly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder. You screeched out in surprise and laughed as he slapped your ass, “Hell yeah, birdie. Now, let’s go home. I hate it here.”

You will always have a home if Adrian was around. He was your home, and he was the only fucking family that mattered.

[tunabesimpin]

Let's go to the beach beach! ... Ninki Minjaj

HI TUNAAAA!! Congrats on 800!! Keep up the good and honest hard work my g >:))

WHO: As for the event, Nemo will be coming in to make waves! She's gonna drag in poor Sebek with her as her plus one.

HOW: How did the jester convince Sebek? Let's just say that he didn't want to accompany her at first, but he realized the mayhem she might cause if it was Silver who supervised her instead. Better that it was him yelling at the top of his lungs over a sleepyhead letting her run loose.

Below are the silly fits I came up with for them ✨ the messy concept is all I got for now sobs

Feel free to adjust Sebek's if you wanna >:))

Here's the link for the more polished ver.

FAVE COLOR: Nemo obviously likes green, the most creative color of the rainbow! (not really).

WHAT: As for what she likes doing during summer, she loves to relax and just unwind in the sun! Thus, it's no-brainer what she's going to do at the party: sunbathing, but with a twist!

TWIST?: She's going to bury herself in the sand with only her head sticking out. The jester claims that this odd practice has therapeutic effects.

One would hope this isn't one of her silly tricks, but that's just wishful thinking...

Anyway, thank you for hosting this Tuna!! Do lmk if you need anything clarified or if I missed anything svdkdj Best of luck to you w/ this event!! 🙏

--- Nemo's schemes had already effected many of the beach goers, but to be fair those involved did have warning. The most popular of their attractions being their sand cakes, a gamble on whether you receive and actual cake or some beach sand. Even Tuna took chance on the idea, though their reasoning might have been a bit different.

Having picked a bucket for themself, Tuna began eating a lightbulb switching on as they remembered Nemo mentioning being buried in the sand. "Say, want to start a head garden with me?" It took a second for Nemo to understand, but a wicked smirk grew "I would ever be honored~" Tuna continued to crunch on their 'cake' as the two began to clean up and find a suitable spot. They used sticks to draw a border in the sand and make faux paths and used palm leaves to provide some shade. Once the base was done it was time to dig. Long flat beds were dug out and ready to be lied in, it quite a while, but they managed to get 3 done. Now it was time find their first customer and unfortunately for Sebek, he seemed to be the first to pass by.

Nemo and Tuna were quick to team up on him, Tuna holding him from behind and Nemo began leading the way. Nemo became the perfect spokesman "Please right this way dear customer! Our garden is perfect for relaxation and clearing the mind~ Surely you can only be at your best if your mind is at its best as well!" Sebek squirmed, digging his heels into the sand to no avail and he yelled "I WILL NOT! UNHAND ME!" It was no use, with both Nemo and Tuna combined, they managed to pin him tot he bed and began to bury him thoroughly. At some point Sebek gave up, deciding it wouldn't hurt to try and feel the 'therapeutic' process. However, once he saw Tuna and Nemo drawing silly notes he knew he was pranked, "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A FRUIT?!" ---

LOLOLOL Poor Sebek~ I seem to keep writing him getting the butt end of the stick XD AND AAAA first nemo interaction yey!!! (if its not im so sorry i have a horrible memory-) >V< It was so fun to doodle this out! The art you made was so cute too!!! AAAA I love the hat and sand buckets!!!! Thank you so much for participating !!! I hope you can enjoy this!!!

[rhoorl]

My dear Jess,

Here I am again 😁

In honor of Pedro's birthday, I can't help but wonder what is the most memorable gift that each of the DL boy has received from the rest of the squad. It can be as funny, sentimental or borderline illegal as you want it be! And Cousin Joel can be the responsible for one of them, if you wish... 😏I love learning more about your DL canon!! 😍

Pedro tax below cause.. Just cause.

Love you! G

My dearest G,

I love it when you pop into my inbox asking for some DL canon - it seriously makes my day! So sorry it took me a while to respond. You know I had to think this through (and it’s me, so it’s a lengthy and involved response). Here we go!

Benny

From Will: I’m starting off with a bit of a sentimental one. Remember how in DL, Benny and Will’s dad found all of Benny’s art supplies and threw them out? Well, for his birthday, Will got Benny a brand-new set of notebooks and colored pencils. Will was deployed, but he had it delivered to Joel’s house since it was a safe place. Dammit, I just made myself cry with this…

From Frankie: Frankie gifted Benny a pair of MMA gloves one year - it was when he realized that Benny was really starting to get serious about it. 

From Santiago: Pope gifted Benny a set of whiskey glasses, but they weren’t just any glasses, they were in the shape of butts. I actually found these on Amazon and they cracked me up. I feel like Benny would find this hilarious.

Bonus

From Joel: So we’ve established in DL that Benny really looks up to Joel and sees him as kind of a father figure/older brother type. Benny was a big fan of pro wrestling growing up, so one year Joel got him tickets to a wrestling show.

Frankie

From Santiago: Frankie loves to cook and is quite the grillmaster, so one year Pope got him a novelty chef’s apron. 

From Benny: Benny has given Frankie his fair share of sentimental gifts over the years, but it’s Benny so you know he’s given several funny gifts too. In the DL universe, Frankie is also known as the 🐱 👑 so Benny gave him this shirt.

From Will: A sentimental gift to round out Frankie’s gifts. He gifted Frankie a beautiful leather-bound notebook – I have a headcanon that Will is big on journaling. He and Frankie have some similarities in their dispositions, so I think Will knows that Frankie could really benefit from spending time writing down his thoughts.

Santiago

From Frankie: Frankie got Pope his first wine subscription because he knew Pope was really getting into wine and wanted to experiment and try a bunch of different things.

From Will: I feel like Will is sneakily really funny… a bit unassuming because he’s quiet. For Pope’s 40th birthday, Will got him 40 gift cards…but they all were for like really random amounts. Benny was in on this too – basically for a year they bought gift cards to random places and would use them until they had like less than a dollar. They collected all of those gift cards and gave them to Pope on his birthday. Here he was thinking he was getting spoiled with a ton of money to a bunch of random places but in total, it’s like 30 cents to McDonalds and 75 cents to a gas station. I hope that makes sense because this idea really makes me laugh. 

From Benny: When Pope was dating a younger lady, Benny busted his balls a bit and got him a “Millennial slang dictionary” to help Pope know what she was talking about.

Will

From Benny: Although Will isn’t that much older than Benny, Benny still likes to tease his older brother about being “old.” One year they decided to do gag gifts for their birthdays so Benny found this soap in the shape of a Viagra pill and thought it was absolutely hilarious.

From Frankie: Will is a big Star Wars fan, so one year Frankie got him a coffee table book full of Star Wars concept art and other drawings. 

From Santiago: During his travels, Pope saw a guy on the street with a bunch of different art that was really cool. He ended up buying a few pieces from the guy and one of them was a Star Wars-related one he got specifically for Will.

Sorry this was long AF but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had thinking through it all! If you made it to the end, here's some TF tax.

[verena-targaryen-writes]

The Duke and I (Part 1)

(This is fully extracted from book, only Diana's character and Aemond's character belong to me)

The Bridgertons are by far the most prolific family in the upper echelons of society. Such industriousness on the part of the viscountess and the late viscount is commendable, although one can find only banality in their choice of names for their children. Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Diana, Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth— orderliness is, of course, beneficial in all things, but one would think that intelligent parents would be able to keep their children straight without needing to alphabetize all of their names except one of them.

Furthermore, the sight of the viscountess and all eight of her children in one room is enough to make one fear one is seeing double— or triple— or worse. Never has This Author seen a collection of siblings so ludicrously alike in their physical regard. Although This Author has never taken the time to record eye color, all eight possess similar bone structure and the same thick, chestnut hair. One must pity the viscountess as she seeks advantageous marriages for her brood that she did not produce a single child of more fashionable coloring. Still, there are advantages to a family of such consistent looks— there can be no doubt that all eight are of legitimate parentage.

Ah, Gentle Reader, your devoted Author wishes that that were the case amid all large families…

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers,26 April 1813

"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!" Violet Bridgerton crumpled the single-page newspaper into a ball and hurled it across the elegant drawing room. Her daughters Diana and Daphne wisely made no comment and pretended to be engrossed in her embroidery.

"Did you read what she said?" Violet demanded. "Did you?"

Daphne and Diana eyed the ball of paper, which now rested under a mahogany end table. Daphne spoke "I didn't have the opportunity before you, er, finished with it."

"Read it, then," Violet wailed, her arm slicing dramatically through the air. "Read how that woman has maligned us."

Diana calmly set down her embroidery and reached under the end table. She smoothed the sheet of paper out on her lap and read the paragraph about her family. Blinking, she looked up. "This isn't so bad, Mother. In fact, it's a veritable benediction compared to what she wrote about the Featheringtons last week."

"How am I supposed to find you both a husband while that woman is slandering your name?"

The twins forced themselves to exhale. After nearly two seasons in London, the mere mention of the word husband was enough to set their temples pounding. They wanted to marry, truly they did, and they weren't even holding out for a true love match. But was it really too much to hope for a husband for whom one had at least some affection?

Thus far, eight men had asked for their hands, but when Diana had thought about living the rest of their days in the company of any of them, she just couldn't do it. There were a number of men she thought might make reasonably good husbands, but the problem was—none of them was interested. Oh, they all liked her. Everyone liked her. Everyone thought she were funny and kind and a quick wit, and no one thought them the least bit unattractive, but at the same time, no one was dazzled by her beauty, stunned into speechlessness by her presence, or moved to write poetry in her honor.

Men, she thought with disgust, were interested only in those women who terrified them. No one seemed inclined to court someone like her. They all adored her, or so they said, because she was so easy to talk to, and she always seemed to understand how a man felt. As one of the men Diana had thought might make a reasonably good husband had said, "Deuce take it, Di, you're just not like regular females. You're positively normal."

Which she might have managed to consider a compliment if he hadn't proceeded to wander off in search of the latest blonde beauty.

Diana looked down and noticed that her hand was clenched into a fist. Then she looked up and realized her mother was staring at her, clearly waiting for her to say something. Since she had already exhaled, Diana cleared her throat, and said, "I'm sure Lady Whistledown's little column is not going to hurt my chances for a husband, the same for Daphne."

"Diana, it's been two years for you and Daphne!"

"And Lady Whistledown has only been publishing for three months, so I hardly see how wecan lay the blame at her door."

"I'll lay the blame wherever I choose," Violet muttered.

Diana's fingernails bit her palms as she willed herself not to make a retort. She knew her mother had only her best interests at heart, she knew her mother loved her. And she loved her mother, too. In fact, until Diana had reached marriageable age, Violet had been positively the best of mothers. She still was, when she wasn't despairing over the fact that after Diana and Daphne she had three more daughters to marry off.

Violet pressed a delicate hand to her chest. "She cast aspersions on your parentage."

"No," Diana said slowly. It was always wise to proceed with caution when contradicting her mother. "Actually, what she said was that there could be no doubt that we are all legitimate. Which is more than one can say for most large families of the ton."

"She shouldn't have even brought it up," Violet sniffed.

"Mother, she's the author of a scandal sheet. It's her job to bring such things up."

"She isn't even a real person," Violet added angrily. She planted her hands on her slim hips, then changed her mind and shook her finger in the air. "Whistledown, ha! I've never heard of any Whistledowns. Whoever this depraved woman is, I doubt she's one of us. As if anyone of breeding would write such wicked lies."

"Of course she's one of us," Diana said, her brown eyes filling with amusement. "If she weren't a, member of the ton, there is no way she'd be privy to the sort of news she reports. Did you think she was some sort of impostor, peeking in windows and listening at doors?"

"I don't like your tone, Diana Bridgerton," Violet said, her eyes narrowing.

Diana bit back another smile. "I don't like your tone," was Violet's standard answer when one of her children was winning an argument. But it was too much fun to tease her mother. "I wouldn't be surprised," she said, cocking her head to the side, "if Lady Whistledown was one of your "friends."

"Bite your tongue, Diana. No friend of mine would ever stoop so low."

 "Very well," Diana allowed, "it's probably not one of your friends. But I'm certain it's someone we know. No interloper could ever obtain the information she reports."

Violet crossed her arms. "I should like to put her out of business once and for all." Diana soon realized that Daphne left the room

 "If you wish to put her out of business," Diana could not resist pointing out, "you shouldn't support her by buying her newspaper."

 "And what good would that do?" Violet demanded. "Everyone else is reading it. My puny little embargo would do nothing except make me look ignorant when everyone else is chuckling over her latest gossip."

That much was true, Diana silently agreed. Fashionable London was positively addicted to Lady Whistledown's Society Papers. The mysterious newspaper had arrived on the doorstep of every member of the ton three months earlier. For two weeks it was delivered unbidden every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And then, on the third Monday, butlers across London waited in vain for the pack of paperboys who normally delivered Whistledown, only to discover that instead of free delivery, they were selling the gossip sheet for the outrageous price of five pennies a paper.

 Diana had to admire the fictitious Lady Whistledown's savvy. By the time she started forcing people to pay for their gossip, all the ton was addicted. Everyone forked over their pennies, and somewhere some meddlesome woman was getting very rich.

While Violet paced the room and huffed about this "hideous slight" against her family, Diana looked up to make certain her mother wasn't paying her any attention, then let her eyes drop to peruse the rest of the scandal sheet. Whistledown —as it was now called—was a curious mix of commentary, social news, scathing insult, and the occasional compliment. What set it apart from any previous society news sheets was that the author actually listed her subjects' names in full. There was no hiding behind abbreviations such as Lord S------and Lady G------. If Lady Whistledown wanted to write about someone, she used his full name. The ton declared themselves scandalized, but they were secretly fascinated.

This most recent edition was typical Whistledown. Aside from the short piece on the Bridgertons—which was really no more than a description of the family— Lady Whistledown had recounted the events at the previous night's ball. Diana hadn't attended, as it had been her younger sister's birthday, and the Bridgertons always made a big fuss about birthdays. And with eight children, there were a lot of birthdays to celebrate.

"You're reading that rubbish," Violet accused.

Diana looked up, refusing to feel the least bit guilty. "It's a rather good column today. Apparently Cecil Tumbley knocked over an entire tower of champagne glasses last night."

"Really?" Violet asked, trying not to look interested.

"Mmm-hmm," Diana replied. "She gives quite a good account of the Middlethorpe ball. Mentions who was talking to whom, what everyone was wearing—"

"And I suppose she felt the need to offer her opinions on that point," Violet cut in.

Diana smiled wickedly. "Oh, come now, Mother. You know that Mrs. Featherington has always looked dreadful in purple."

Violet tried not to smile. Diana could see the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to maintain the composure she deemed appropriate for a viscountess and mother. But within two seconds, she was grinning and sitting next to her daughter on the sofa. "Let me see that," she said, snatching up the paper. "What else happened? Did we miss anything important?"

 Diana said, "Really, Mother, with Lady Whistledown as a reporter, one needn't actually attend any events." She waved toward the paper. "This is almost as good as actually being there. Better, probably. I'm certain we had better food last night than they did at the ball. And give that back." She yanked the paper back, leaving a torn corner in Violet's hands.  

"Diana!"

Diana affected mock righteousness. "I was reading it."

"Well!"

"Listen to this." Violet leaned in. Diana read: "The rake formerly known as Earl Targaryen has finally seen fit to grace London with his presence. Although he has not yet deigned to make an appearance at a respectable evening function, the new Duke of Hastings has been spotted several times at White's and once at Tattersall's. " She paused to take a breath. "His grace has resided abroad for six years. Can it be any coincidence that he has returned only now that the old duke is dead?"

Diana looked up. "My goodness, she is blunt, isn't she? Isn't Targaryen one of Anthony's friends?"

"He's Hastings now," Violet said automatically, "and yes, I do believe he and Anthony were friendly at Oxford. And Eton as well, I think." Her brow scrunched and her blue eyes narrowed with thought. "He was something of a hellion, if my memory serves. Always at odds with his father. But reputed to be quite brilliant. I'm fairly sure that Anthony said he took a first in mathematics. Which," she added with a maternal roll of her eyes, "is more than I can say for any of my children."

"Now, now, Mother," Diana teased. "I'm sure I would take a first if Oxford would only see fit to admit women."

 Violet snorted. "I corrected your arithmetic papers when your governess was ill, Diana."

 "Well, maybe in history, then," Diana said with a grin. She looked back down at the paper in her hands, her eyes straying to the new duke's name. "He sounds quite interesting," she murmured.

 Violet looked at her sharply. "He's quite unsuitable for a young lady of your years is what he is."

"Funny how my 'years,' as you put it, volley back and forth between being so young that I cannot even meet Anthony's friends and being so old that you despair of my ever contracting a good marriage." "Diana Bridgerton, I don't—"

"—like my tone, I know." Diana grinned. "But you love me."

Violet smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around Diana's shoulder. "Heaven help me, I do."

Diana gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. "It's the curse of motherhood. You're required to love us even when we vex you."

Violet just sighed. "I hope that someday you have children—"

 "—just like me, I know." Diana smiled nostalgically and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Her mother could be overly inquisitive, and her father had been more interested in hounds and hunting than he'd been in society affairs, but theirs had been a warm marriage, filled with love, laughter, and children. "I could do a great deal worse than follow your example, Mother," she murmured.

"Why, Diana," Violet said, her eyes growing watery, "what a lovely thing to say."

 Diana twirled a lock of her chestnut hair around her finger, and grinned, letting the sentimental moment melt into a more teasing one. "I'm happy to follow in your footsteps when it comes to marriage and children, Mother, just so long as I don't have to have eight. "

 At that exact moment, Aemond Targaryen, the new Duke of Hastings and the erstwhile topic of the Bridgerton ladies' conversation, was sitting at White's. His companion was none other than Anthony Bridgerton, Diana's eldest brother. The two cut a striking pair, both tall and athletic, with thick dark hair. But where Anthony's eyes were the same deep chocolate brown as his sister's, Aemond's were icy blue, with an oddly penetrating gaze.

 It was those eyes as much as anything that had earned him his reputation as a man to be reckoned with. When he stared at a person, clear and unwavering, men grew uncomfortable. Women positively shivered.

 But not Anthony. The two men had known each other for years, and Anthony just laughed when Aemond raised a brow and turned his icy gaze upon him. "You forget, I've seen you with your head being lowered into a chamber pot," Anthony had once told him. "It's been difficult to take you seriously ever since."

To which Aemond had replied, "Yes, but if I recall, you were the one holding me over that fragrant receptacle."

"One of my proudest moments, to be sure. But you had your revenge the next night in the form of a dozen eels in my bed."

Aemond allowed himself a smile as he remembered both the incident and their subsequent conversation about it. Anthony was a good friend, just the sort a man would want by his side in a pinch. He'd been the first person Aemond had looked up upon returning to England.

"It's damned fine to have you back, Targaryen," Anthony said, once they'd settled in at their table at White's. "Oh, but I suppose you'll insist I call you Hastings now."

"No," Aemond said rather emphatically. "Hastings will always be my father. He never answered to anything else." He paused. "I'll assume his title if I must, but I won't be called by his name."

 "If you must?" Anthony's eyes widened slightly. "Most men would not sound quite so resigned about the prospect of a dukedom."

Aemond raked a hand through his dark hair. He knew he was supposed to cherish his birthright and display unwavering pride in the Basset family's illustrious history, but the truth was it all made him sick inside. He'd spent his entire life not living up to his father's expectations; it seemed ridiculous now to try to live up to his name. "It's a damned burden is what it is," he finally grumbled

"You'd best get used to it," Anthony said pragmatically, "because that's what everyone will call you."

Aemond knew it was true, but he doubted if the title would ever sit well upon his shoulders.

"Well, whatever the case," Anthony added, respecting his friend's privacy by not delving further into what was obviously an uncomfortable topic, "I'm glad to have you back. I might finally get some peace next time I escort my sister to a ball."

 Aemond leaned back, crossing his long, muscular legs at the ankles. "An intriguing remark."

Anthony raised a brow. "One that you're certain I'll explain?"

"But of course."

 "I ought to let you learn for yourself, but then, I've never been a cruel man."

Aemond chuckled. "This coming from the man who dunked my head in a chamber pot?"

Anthony waved his hand dismissively. "I was young."

"And now you're a model of mature decorum and respectability?"

 Anthony grinned. "Absolutely."

"So tell me," Aemond drawled, "how, exactly, am I meant to make your existence that much more peaceful?"

 "I assume you plan to take your place in society?"

"You assume incorrectly."

 "But you are planning to attend Lady Danbury's ball this week," Anthony said.

"Only because I am inexplicably fond of the old woman. She says what she means, and—" Aemond's eyes grew somewhat shuttered.

"And?" Anthony prompted. Aemond gave his head a little shake. "It's nothing. Just that she was rather kind to me as a child. I spent a few school holidays at her house with Riverdale. Her nephew, you know."

Anthony nodded once. "I see. So you have no intention of entering society. I'm impressed by your resolve. But allow me to warn you—even if you do not choose to attend the ton's events, they will find you,”

Aemond, who had chosen that moment to take a sip of his brandy, choked on the spirit at the look on Anthony's face when he said, "they." After a few moments of coughing and sputtering, he finally managed to say, "Who, pray tell', are 'they'?"

Anthony shuddered. "Mothers."

"Not having had one myself, I can't say I grasp your point."

"Society mothers, you dolt. Those fire-breathing dragons with daughters of—God help us— marriageable age. You can run, but you'll never manage to hide from them. And I should warn you, my own is the worst of the lot."

"Good God. And here I thought Africa was dangerous."

Anthony shot his friend a faintly pitying look. "They will hunt you down. And when they find you, you will find yourself trapped in conversation with a pale young lady all dressed in white who cannot converse on topics other than the weather, who received vouchers to Almack's, and hair ribbons."

A look of amusement crossed Aemond's features. "I take it, then, that during my time abroad you have become something of an eligible gentleman?"

"Not out of any aspirations to the role on my part, I assure you. If it were up to me, I'd avoid society functions like the plague. But my sister made her bow last year, and I'm forced to escort her from time to time."

"Diana, you mean?"

Anthony looked up in surprise. "Did the two of you ever meet?"

"No," Aemond admitted, "but I remember her letters to you at school, and I recalled that she was fourth in the family, so she had to start with D, and—"

"Ah, yes," Anthony said with a slight roll of his eyes, "the Bridgerton method of naming children. Guaranteed to make certain no one forgets who you are."

Aemond laughed. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Say, Aemond," Anthony suddenly said, leaning forward, "I've promised my mother I'll have dinner at Bridgerton House later this week with the family. Why don't you join me?"

Aemond raised a dark brow. "Didn't you just warn me about society mothers and debutante daughters?"

Anthony laughed. "I'll put my mother on her best behavior, and don't worry about Di. She's the exception that proves the rule. You'll like her immensely."

Aemond narrowed his eyes. Was Anthony playing matchmaker? He couldn't tell.

As if Anthony were reading his thoughts, he laughed. "Good God, you don't think I'm trying to pair you off with Diana, do you?"

 Aemond said nothing.

"You would never suit. You're a bit too brooding for her tastes."

 Aemond thought that an odd comment, but instead chose to ask,

 "Has she had any offers, then?"

 "A few." Anthony kicked back the rest of his brandy, then let out a satisfied exhale. "I've allowed her to refuse them all."

"That's rather indulgent of you."

Anthony shrugged. "Love is probably too much to hope for in a marriage these days, but I don't see why she shouldn't be happy with her husband. We've had offers from one man old enough to be her father, another old enough to be her father's younger brother, one who was rather too high in the instep for our often boisterous clan, and then this week, dear God, that was the worst!"

"What happened?" Aemond asked curiously.

Anthony gave his temples a weary rub. "This last one was perfectly amiable, but a rather bit dim in the head. You'd think, after our rakish days, I'd be completely without feelings—"

 "Really?" Aemond asked with a devilish grin. "You'd think that?"

Anthony scowled at him. "I didn't particularly enjoy breaking this poor fool's heart."

"Er, wasn't Diana the one to do that?"

"Yes, but I had to tell him."

"Not many brothers would allow their sister such latitude with their marriage proposals," Aemond said quietly.

Anthony just shrugged again, as if he couldn't imagine treating his sister in any other way. "She's been a good sister to me. It's the least I can do."

"Even if it means escorting her to Almack's?" Aemond said wickedly.

Anthony groaned. "Even then."

"I'd console you by pointing out that this will all be over soon, but you've what, three other sisters waiting in the wings?"

Anthony positively slumped in his seat. "Eloise is due out in two years, and Francesca the year after that, but then I've a bit of a reprieve before Hyacinth comes of age."

Aemond chuckled. "I don't envy you your responsibilities in that quarter." But even as he said the words, he felt a strange longing, and he wondered what it would be like to be not quite so alone in this world. He had no plans to start a family of his own, but maybe if he'd had one to begin with, his life would have turned out a bit differently.

"So you'll come for supper, then?" Anthony stood. "Informal, of course. We never take meals formally when it's just family."

Aemond had a dozen things to do in the next few days, but before he could remind himself that he needed to get his affairs in order, he heard himself saying, "I'd be delighted

"Excellent. And I'll see you at the Danbury bash first?"

Aemond shuddered. "Not if I can help it. My aim is to be in and out in under thirty minutes."

"You really think," Anthony said, raising a doubtful brow, "that you're going to be able to go to the party, pay your respects to Lady Danbury, and leave?"

Aemond's nod was forceful and direct.

But Anthony's snort of laughter was not terribly reassuring

Taglist :- @watercolorskyy @velaryon-seahores (I just wanted you to see, my neck hurts due to bending down and looking at the book every second)

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

Rage and Ruin

Part 4

Pairing: Nesta x Eris

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: character death (mentioned), depression, hella angst

Summary: When Nesta Archeron’s meddlesome mother puts her in the path of an unmarried Duke, only chaos erupts, for neither is in search of matrimony…especially not with each other.

As always, I am so grateful for my (incredibly patient) beta @rarephloxes

Masterlist

* * * * *

The first leaves fell in September, marking the end of the drowsy summer. Nesta liked to watch them flutter to the ground, looking remarkably like dancers as they twirled through the air.

Do not disappoint me.

She stared out the window for what felt like hours. Her eyes burned, reminding her to blink every so often. The fields were quiet. There was not even a breeze to rattle the trees. The grass did not sway. The world stood still alongside her.

The drawing room had become hers, by some unspoken agreement. Not even Elain dared to enter. Sometimes, when Nesta listened closely, she could hear her sisters in another room. Discussing the weather, perhaps. Or how to dye their old dresses. Nesta would have helped, but she could not seem to find the motivation to do the same. She had no interest in blackening her skirts. She had no interest at all.

Do not disappoint me.

Nesta turned from the windows, focusing her attention on the box in her lap at last. Jewels spilled over the sides, necklaces she’d worn to countless balls and parties. Nesta knew them all, had worn each and every one. They’d been passed down from mother to daughter for generations. A collection that each woman added to along the course of her life.

Sapphires the size of robin’s eggs. Enough gold and silver to weigh her down. It was a treasure trove, to be sure. But the pearls were fashioned into a pretty collar. The rubies glimmered like blood. And the emeralds had a tendency to choke her during dinner.

Nesta ran her fingers over the diamond necklace, the one she’d worn to the Vanserra ball. Her throat tightened. Diamonds for the most valuable daughter, the most eligible bride. For the largest dowry, the finest wife.

Do not disappoint me.

Something cracked in her chest. Nesta swept out of the house and down the front steps, hands clenched into fists. Her fingers hurt. She felt like she was splintering apart. The diamonds glinted at her feet, looking like so many stars buried in the mud. Her palms were red, showing where she’d gripped the necklace hard enough to break the skin.

Mud spattered her skirts by the time Nesta was done. Good. She was glad of it. The dress had been Mrs. Archeron’s favorite.

* * * * *

She opened the letter a week after the funeral.

Nesta had shoved it into a desk drawer, hoping to forget the sender. But with nothing else to occupy her mind, she found herself reaching for the folded paper.

It took her an hour to open it. She imagined all the things it might say. Another proposal? A more eloquent insult? A carefully worded request to duel at his family’s ancestral estate? She would accept the last, if only for the opportunity to exact her satisfaction in blood.

When she finally cracked the Vanserra seal, the contents surprised her. She read it three times to be sure of the words.

Do not be alarmed by the contents of this letter, for I do not wish to repeat any sentiments you have already dismissed. I write to offer a sincere apology, and I hope that you will accept my attempt at an explanation for my behavior towards you and your family. I regret that I was not able to express myself honorably or eloquently at our last meeting, but I hope to do so now.

Many years ago, my youngest brother was in love. She was a servant in our household, but Lucien paid her station no mind. He was, after all, merely the youngest son. Set to inherit next to nothing, with no land or titles, not that the girl knew that. My father dismissed her from our house when he discovered the matter, ending things in no uncertain terms. He explained the truth to Lucien—that the girl had only pursued him for wealth, that she did not return his affections. And that he was to enlist immediately. To this day, we have never spoken of her again.

Though I know it is a poor excuse, I feared what effect a similar situation might have upon him. I can admit that I was too hasty in breaking the relationship between our beloved siblings, for I did not see the feelings they shared. I assumed—wrongly—that it was yet another one-sided love, and I wanted nothing more than to keep him from further heartbreak. I apologize for any grief that my decision has wrought, and I hope that you will one day allow my family an opportunity to make amends for my misstep. You need only send word of your reply, whether it be in a day or a month. I shall be glad to receive it at all.

With regards to the matter of Miss Morrigan, I must ask your discretion, for I do not wish to bring any further dishonor upon her. To state matters plainly, I came upon Miss Morrigan and an officer alone in the garden, despite the fact that we were engaged to be married. In an attempt to preserve her dignity, I immediately took my leave from the area, but I later learned that she had seen me. The next morning, I became aware of a false rumor—that I had followed her into the gardens with the intent to marry her, and that Miss Morrigan had accepted. As this was a false rumor from the lips of a common man, I gave it no mind. Instead, I sent word to her father that our engagement was to be called off. I assumed that she wished to pursue the officer from that night, rather than myself, and I was happy enough to indulge her. It was only after I returned to my estate that I realized the extent of Miss Morrigan’s deception. It was she who spread the lie. I cannot claim to understand her reasons for doing so, though it is possible she hoped to salvage the situation I bore witness to. Had she spoken with me, she would have known my intention to keep her secrets.

As for secrets, I feel I must once again assure you of my intention to preserve ours. I have no desire to cause further harm to you or your family. I wish you well.

* * * * *

The winter passed more quietly than the ones before it. Without Mrs. Archeron barking orders, the house felt smaller.

Nesta did not touch the piano. She could not bring herself to enter the room. One day, she had enough of the beast staring back at her, and she closed the doors entirely. Everyone else followed suit, allowing the practice room to become a new mausoleum.

Nesta spent the winter watching—a silent guardian. She watched snow blanket the fields. She watched servants hang holiday decorations. She watched her father lock himself in the office for hours on end. She watched Feyre paint, her black skirts slowly becoming paint speckled. And she watched Elain.

Elain, who had always been sunny and joyful, reduced to nothing more than a ghost. She sat at the window all day, waiting for someone that would never arrive. She sat and waited every day without fail. It was a ritual she’d undertaken ever since returning from London.

Nesta hated it. Rather, she hated the man responsible.

She wrestled with herself for months, agonizing over the Duke’s letter. The signature within made her want to rage anew, but she resisted the urge to tear the paper into shreds. Because it was, in fact, an apology. Accompanied by a detailed explanation for his behavior, past and present. The truth gave her pause. Partly because of the details provided, but also because of the honesty that the Duke extended to her.

But mostly, Nesta agonized over his request to make amends.

At first, she wanted to throw the letter into the fire, to let his false sentiments burn. Then she wanted to let it collect dust, so that she might finally forget the man who had overturned her life, as well as her sister’s. But eventually, her righteous fury dimmed.

Armed with new information, Nesta was hard-pressed to maintain her dislike of the Duke. Given the family’s history, she could understand his hesitations. While she still wished to maim Eris for his mistreatment of her sister, she could manage some small sliver of forgiveness. She likely would have done the same, in his place. If anyone could understand the vicious need to defend one’s family, it was her.

Nesta’s resolve was further weakened by the thoughts that plagued her. Everything reminded her of him. The crimson threads in her embroidery basket. Honey drizzled over toast. The embers in the fireplace. Even the rain.

The quiet house was a curse, because her mind filled the silence with his words. But for every insult dragged to the surface, she was forced to remember other things, too.

I am burning for you.

Nesta lay awake night after night, glaring at the ceiling. She wished for the voice in her head to drown. She wished for Eris to fall off a cliff. She wished she could wake up in the morning with no memory of him, of his brother, or his whole wretched family. A small part of her wished she could simply…stop existing. If only so she could finally rest.

Months of worry had taken their toll, allowing Nesta to feel the full weight of her responsibility. For the first time in her life, she wondered what it would be like to let it all go. To stop caring what happened to her family. To let her sisters plan their own futures. To abandon her father to his foolish pursuits. What would it feel like to drop all of those burdens?

But Elain. Somehow, her sister held out hope for the romance that had slipped through her fingers. By doing nothing, Nesta would smother whatever hope remained, and she could not stand the thought of causing any more misery. Eris had done more than enough of that.

So when the snows finally melted, and Elain still sat at the windows as she always did, Nesta took it upon herself to write a letter of her own.

My Lord Duke, she began. Provided that you still possess an ounce of concern for my sister, I will allow you to make amends. Do not make me regret this decision.

* * * * *

The knock at the front door was barely audible over the pouring rain. “What sort of fool is out in such a storm?” Nesta asked, peering out the window for a glimpse. Her stomach dropped at the flicker of red.

“Is it anyone we know?” Elain asked, still busy with her embroidery. All three sisters had begun working on new gowns for spring. Even Feyre, to Nesta’s surprise.

“The Lord Lucien Vanserra,” a servant announced, holding the door open wide for their guest.

All three sisters bolted to their feet, hastily dropping sewing projects. “My lord,” Nesta dipped a curtsy. “We were not expecting you.” Well, Nesta had been expecting something, but not so soon. She’d sent her letter a week prior, thinking that Eris intended to write an apology or something of the sort, not his brother. And in a storm, at that.

Nesta fought her instinctive reaction to the sight of the rain-slicked Vanserra in their parlor. But aside from the long ruby hair, Lucien looked very little like his brother. His eyes gleamed the rich russet of fallen leaves. His complexion was reminiscent of freshly tilled fields. Laugh lines framed his wide mouth. Everything about him, from his coloring to the carelessly buttoned collar, pointed to a warmth that was absent in the Duke.

“I regret that I have arrived unannounced, but I must request a private audience with Miss Elain,” Lucien said with a short bow. “I have come to beg her forgiveness.”

The Vanserra brothers could not have been more dissimilar.

Brows raised, Nesta abandoned her sewing, gesturing for Feyre to follow her into the hall. She passed Elain on the way to the door. “Whatever you decide,” she whispered, squeezing her sister’s hand tightly. “We will support you.”

Elain nodded, cheeks pale. And while Nesta hated to leave her alone and vulnerable, she trusted Lucien’s intentions. To a point. Nesta closed the door, then leaned against the wall. She grinned at Feyre, beckoning her closer so they could both listen in.

“I have come to apologize, Miss Elain,” Lucien began. “Like a fool, I allowed my doubts to get the best of me. I feared that you…did not share my feelings, and I turned from you in haste.”

“My lord, you need not explain yourself,” Elain said softly.

“You deserve the truth,” Lucien countered. “I see now that the proper course would have been honesty. Directness. I should have come to you with my concerns.” There was a pause, and Nesta strained to hear more. She caught a faint scuffle, as though Lucien had taken a step closer. “And, of course, my proposal.”

Feyre clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. On the other side of the door, Elain did no such thing, crying out in surprise. “Lucien, I—”

“I love you,” he said, voice raw. “These months have been a torment in your absence. I missed you every morning and every evening. Scarcely an hour would pass without thinking of you. Because everything reminded me of your smile, your laugh, the way you tuck your hair.” The lord took a deep and shuddering breath before continuing, “And I realized that I wanted to share my life with you. I cannot bear to let another day go by without you at my side. I cannot bear it, Elain. So I ask you,” Lucien said, voice cracking slightly. “To please…marry me.”

A heartbeat passed before Elain’s voice rang out at last. “Yes, a thousand times yes,” she said. And then Elain was laughing.

Nesta leaned against the wall, listening to her sister weep tears of joy. She was happy, truly. But something in her chest ached, wanting so fiercely. She was not often jealous, but Nesta could not deny the creature clawing to the surface within her. A beast that demanded that same love for herself. A love without conditions. A love that overcame all reason, that cared not for beauty or wealth or breeding.

She deserved nothing less.

So lost in thought, Nesta did not notice the approaching footsteps until the door opened beside her. Lucien peeked out into the hallway, but did not appear surprised to see both sisters lingering. Instead, he grinned. “I thank you for the illusion of privacy, but I must now ask for your presence. Unless you’d prefer to hear my continued apology from the hall.”

Feyre snorted a laugh, following him into the room. Once all three sisters were seated, Lucien fell into a chair opposite them, his relief evident.

“I must first offer my condolences on your loss,” Lucien began, leaning forward. “And I must also apologize for all of the trouble my family has caused you.”

Nesta waved him off, “My lord, you are not to blame.”

“I must take some responsibility for the way things ended between us,” he insisted. “I would very much appreciate an opportunity to make things right between our families. I feel ill at ease knowing that your opinion of me has been affected by my poor treatment of Miss Elain, and I wish to prove myself once more.”

Nesta’s brows raised. “My sister has already agreed to your proposal,” she reminded him.

A smile flashed across his face. “And I am overjoyed by the prospect,” he said. “I wish to invite you all to the Forest House, my family’s ancestral home. As a chance to regain your trust.”

“Mine or my sister’s?” Nesta asked, teasing.

“Both, ideally,” Lucien admitted. “I have given Miss Elain very little reason to put her faith in me, and I have no interest in rushing a marriage she may decide against.”

Nesta stared at him. “Do you wish to marry my sister or not?”

“Of course I do,” he rushed to say. “I merely wish to give her a chance to get to know me. Better, that is. And perhaps you would be interested in accompanying us as a chaperone.”

“Well,” Nesta said, confused by the lord’s attempt at an apology. She looked over at Elain, who appeared lovestruck more than anything else. Perhaps it would do them all good to spend more time in Lord Lucien’s presence. A trip to Autumn would give her sister time to take her future husband’s measure. And if he proved to be inadequate, they could end the engagement.

But given the way the pair could not stop watching each other, Nesta knew that a chaperone was quite necessary. Feyre, however, was not. If all three sisters went, it would look more as though Lord Lucien was deciding between them.

Nesta pursed her lips. “Elain, would you like to visit the Vanserra estate?”

“Oh, yes,” her sister breathed. “I would enjoy that very much.”

“Then it is settled,” Nesta said with a sharp nod. She turned back to Lord Lucien. “I will accompany my sister. Provided you get permission from our father, of course.”

Feyre opened her mouth to argue, no doubt wanting to escape the house, but Nesta shot her a firm look. Her youngest sister glowered, slumping back in her seat.

“Of course,” Lucien said, rising to his feet. “I wish to do everything right by Miss Elain.”

* * * * *

The Vanserra estate emerged from the trees like a castle from a dream. Nesta was not sure why they referred to it as the Forest House, when it was the largest building she’d ever seen. White columns soared overhead, supporting ornate stonework. The grounds were expansive, the gardens melting into fields and forests as far as the eye could see. It was as though they’d entered another realm, one slowly budding into spring.

“I am afraid Eris is away on business,” Lucien said, helping Elain down from the carriage. Nesta loosed a breath. She knew she would have to face the Duke eventually, but could not deny her relief at his absence. “My brothers rarely visit, but my mother should be in attendance.”

“It is beautiful,” Nesta said honestly. And it was. If she had any talent for it, she’d be tempted to paint the scenes around her. It was painfully picturesque.

“Shall we see the interior? Or would you prefer to spend the night out of doors?” Lucien asked, his smile teasing.

Nesta lifted her chin, ascending the wide stairs. “Perhaps our host will oblige us with a tour,” she said over her shoulder.

Lord Lucien led them through room after room, naming every portrait Elain pointed to. He showed them countless parlors, ballrooms, and decorated hallways. But the libraries were Nesta’s favorite.

“You must have thousands of books,” Elain exclaimed, spinning around to take it all in.

“This is the largest of the libraries,” Lucien said, a fond smile on his lips. “There are a number of smaller ones. My brother's is quite extensive, adjoining his office.”

“You can’t possibly have read them all,” Nesta said, running her fingers over the spines nearest her. History, geography, accounts of law. The subjects were nearly as numerous as the books themselves.

“I haven’t, if only because I lack the necessary interest in some topics,” Lucien chuckled. “But I do believe Eris has, if only to brag about that fact.”

“Of course he has,” Nesta muttered, pulling her fingers back.

“Should we see the art collection?”

Elain gasped, “You have a collection?”

“My family has been accumulating pieces for generations,” Lucien said, smiling as Elain took his arm once more. “I have a feeling you’ll like them.”

When they saw the sheer volume of paintings and sculptures, even Nesta lost her breath. “Feyre would fall in love with this,” she said softly.

“Well,” Lucien mused, eyeing the painting beside him. “Though I am now spoken for, I am not the only unmarried Vanserra. Perhaps she will live here one day.”

Pain flared, and Nesta made a conscious effort to loosen her fist before she broke the skin. No, she determined quietly. Feyre would not live in this house. She would not marry the Duke.

Nesta swiftly quashed the thought. She smiled politely, moving through the room as quickly as manners allowed. But one portrait caught her eye.

She was not too proud to deny that Eris Vanserra was a handsome man. His features were more than attractive, even though the painting depicted him with a severe expression. The artist had done an impeccable job of defining the firm line of his mouth, the icy glare. The date in the bottom corner indicated that it had been painted several years prior. Perhaps the portrait had been commissioned shortly after his father’s passing. Looking at the frozen expression, Nesta marveled at the lack of grief. She wondered if it was the artist’s choice, or if Eris felt the same uncontrollable rage that she had following her mother’s death. Nesta shook herself out of her reverie, unsure why she cared at all.

Nesta continued around the room, but her eyes were drawn back to that portrait, unable to look away for long. It had been months since she last saw him. The painting was simply an unwelcome reminder of her host, she supposed. She pointedly turned her back to the painting. She needed no reminders.

She needed to be rid of him, of the dreams that returned night after night. Unfortunately, Nesta doubted that her stay at the Forest House would help in that regard.

Then the faint sound of music caught her ear. After months of silence, she was helpless to resist its call. With a glance over her shoulder, Nesta slipped out of the room, leaving Elain and Lucien to their careful inspection of the various landscapes and still life paintings.

She ghosted down the hallway, the trickle of song beckoning her closer until she found herself before a closed door. Curiosity swelled until Nesta finally tugged at the knob. She peered through the gap, holding her breath.

He sat with his back to her, utterly focused on the pianoforte under his fingertips. Long red hair was pulled into a loose tail, falling down his back like a wash of silk. It could have been any one of the Vanserra brothers, perhaps one she had not met. But something in her stilled, knowing. It was him.

Nesta pulled the door shut before he noticed her. Her fingers trembled, nerves sparking to life. Her feet carried her back down the hall faster than before. His words chased her. The memories echoed louder and louder, until she could hear nothing else.

I am burning for you.

Perhaps she could understand the sentiment. Her lungs were on fire, her skin flushed. How had a mere glimpse of the man affected her so much? Her hands curled into fists at her sides, the pain steadying her. Nesta forced herself to inhale. She could face him. As a guest in his home, she had to. But given his insults and hers, she did not think either one of them was capable of politeness.

His apology had not been enough. Neither the letter nor Lucien’s impassioned speeches had been enough to placate her. Somehow, Nesta had not quite managed to wrangle the roaring within her, a beast that demanded the Duke’s blood on her teeth. She had not forgiven him. She wondered if she was capable of it.

Nesta rounded a corner, coming to a sudden halt before a familiar figure. “Your Grace,” she said, her lips numb. She dipped into a curtsy, clawing at her dwindling self-control. When she lifted her head, Nesta’s expression was smooth once more, without a trace of her inner turmoil.

“Miss Archeron,” the Duchess exclaimed, a sudden smile brightening her eyes. “This is a most welcome surprise.”

“Surely Lord Lucien informed you of his plan,” Nesta said.

“Plan? I only knew that he hoped his apology might become a proposal,” the Duchess said, laughing lightly. “It seems he worried for naught. If you are here, that must mean your sister has accepted.”

“She has. Your son kindly invited us to stay here, so that the two might get to know each other better. And, I believe, as a continuation of his apology.”

Footsteps approached before Nesta could say anything more. “Miss Archeron,” Eris said, voice surprisingly level.

Nesta forced herself to turn and face him. Her throat closed up, clamping down on the viciousness that wanted to escape. Silence was safer, she determined, bowing her head.

“It seems your brother is quite enamored with his future bride,” the Duchess said, her smile soft.

“Enough to invite guests,” Eris said, not a hint of emotion leaking into his tone.

The Duchess ignored him, turning to take Nesta’s hands in hers. “I am very glad for the company. It has been a very long winter, indeed, and I’ve found myself quite lonely. Especially with the Duke locked in his office all day long.”

“How long will you be staying?” Eris asked, eyes burning into the side of her face.

“As long as it takes to secure my sister’s engagement,” Nesta answered, turning to glare at him. “Lord Lucien said you were away.”

“I was,” he said. “My business in London concluded faster than expected.”

“Nesta—may I call you that?” the Duchess interjected. “My son has spoken about you at great length since we last met, I feel as if you are a member of the family already.”

Her stomach dropped. Nesta glanced at the Duke, expecting a haughty stare or a victorious smirk. Instead, she glimpsed a faint blush spreading across his cheekbones. “I hope he only told you good things,” Nesta said to the Duchess, trying to quell her nerves.

If the woman knew all that had transpired between Nesta and the Duke, surely she would not be so welcoming. Perhaps Eris had kept his word that night. Perhaps he had not spoken of their encounter at all. She supposed it was not such a leap, considering his discretion regarding Miss Morrigan’s past. Nesta blinked at him, her confusion growing further. What had he spoken of, then, if not his proposal?

Under her scrutiny, the Duke’s blush deepened further. And despite her wariness, Nesta found herself smiling a bit, reveling in his discomfort. With his cheeks glowing pink, Eris looked less haughty. Younger. More innocent, perhaps. It was a sharp contrast to the man she’d grown regrettably familiar with—all blazing eyes and hot temper. She would have preferred him across the country, far away from her, but she found his embarrassment quite satisfactory.

* * * * *

Nesta sipped her tea, fingertips pleasantly warm. She sat with the Duchess in one of the many rooms, tall windows allowing the afternoon sun to stream in. The day was unusually warm, and the two women contented themselves watching the gardens outside. Elain and Lucien strolled arm in arm, just visible from Nesta’s seat.

“She looks happy,” Nesta said softly. “I am glad of it.”

The Duchess set her cup down on the tray. “And are you? Happy?”

Nesta’s throat closed up. “My happiness is of no concern,” she said, forcing herself to swallow.

“You haven’t spoken of it.”

“Of what?”

“Your mother,” the Duchess whispered, her voice so gentle, Nesta wanted to weep.

“There is nothing to speak about,” Nesta said, hoarfrost crackling over her tongue.

The Duchess reached over, hand hovering for a moment before clasping Nesta’s fingers. “You forget that we’ve met before, my dear. And the young woman from last summer could not be more different from the one before me.”

Nesta set her tea down before it could spill. “A lot has happened in the space of a year,” she said, back straight.

The Duchess squeezed Nesta’s hands gently, snagging her attention once more. “I am so very sorry for your loss,” the older woman said, eyes sparkling with emotion. “And I hope you know that you can rely on me, for anything at all. It is a horrible thing—to experience loss alone.”

“I was hardly alone,” Nesta tried to wave away the woman’s concerns, but the Duchess held firm.

“I think it is past time for someone to look after you, my dear. I only hope you allow me to volunteer for the position, if only for a short while,” she said, her smile so soft, Nesta felt wetness prickle at her eyelashes. She blinked the tears away.

“Thank you for your kindness,” Nesta whispered, voice hoarse.

The Duchess patted her hands before releasing her. The other woman’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears, as well. “I never had a daughter,” she said. “And while I do not wish to take your mother’s place, I will be here for you. As long as you wish.”

Nesta had no words. Had anyone offered such a thing? Without strings or conditions? Nesta imagined that no one else would. For who could love a woman with sharp edges? Sooner or later, the Duchess would learn to keep her distance. But Nesta could not help leaning into the warmth of the woman beside her.

“The fresh air will do you some good,” the Duchess said, her eyes smiling. “Go and explore the gardens. I, and the tea, will still be here when you return.”

Nesta bowed her head, immensely grateful for the Duchess and her ability to understand what she needed most in that moment.

She escaped into the hall, nearly running into a broad chest clothed in an exquisite vest and jacket. Nesta gasped, stumbling backwards to put distance between them. Then she looked up, meeting familiar amber eyes. Nesta stiffened, bringing herself to her full height. This close to the Duke, she was forced to acknowledge how he towered over her.

“Miss Archeron,” Eris said, something crossing his face too fast for her to name. He bowed his head in greeting.

“Your Grace,” Nesta held his gaze, refusing to bend even an inch to the man. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Eris blinked at her. “I only wished to see that you were content. Here, in my home.” The considerate words were so at odds with her snarling memories. It must be a manipulation, she decided. A trick of some sort. When had the Duke ever been kind to her?

“I am,” Nesta said, the words clipped and short. She had no desire to listen to honeyed lies. Even his expression—so carefully blank—felt false.

After a pause, Eris must have realized she would not elaborate. He cleared his throat. “If you need anything,” he said. “If there is anything I can provide—”

“There isn’t.”

His next silence was far heavier. “If you change your mind,” Eris tried again.

“I won’t.”

“Why must you be so contrary?” Eris finally snapped. His expression cracked, frustration bubbling up like molten rock. His eyes were two burning embers. Something about it relieved her, though Nesta knew it shouldn’t. Gone was the polite mask of the Duke, and in his place was the man who’d kissed her. The man who haunted her dreams.

“Is your memory faulty? Perhaps you have forgotten the insults levied in my direction, but I have not.”

Eris glared down at her, nostrils flaring. “I have already apologized,” he said, voice low. “My words that night were spoken in haste, and I regret them—”

“I do not care,” Nesta hissed. “You, more than anyone, should understand how that night put me and my family at risk. You have intimate knowledge of the damage that rumors can do.”

“Hence why I have not spoken of it,” Eris fired back, his eyes blazing.

“And you expect me to forgive you? For doing the bare minimum to help preserve my dignity?” Nesta asked, incredulous. “I owe you nothing.”

Eris growled. The sound sent goosebumps racing up her arms. “Then why are you here, if you have not forgiven me? Do you mean to take advantage of my family’s hospitality? To humiliate my brother? Is this some plot for revenge?”

“I mean to ensure my sister’s happiness, since you have proven that you cannot be trusted with the task,” Nesta said, hands curled into tight fists at her sides. “I am here to see her fall in love, to see her married. And then I will be gone from your life forever. You can rest assured of that.”

Eris opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap, deciding against whatever insult lingered on his tongue. He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his jaw and mouth. “Miss Archeron,” he said at last, the words dropping like stones. “I did not mean to antagonize you, and I apologize for it.”

“Well then why are you here?” Nesta demanded. “Lurking in the hallways?”

His eyes flashed. “I told you in my letter, I wish to make amends.”

“Then make them,” Nesta said, lip curled with distaste. “But try not to preface it with further insult.”

“What can I do to regain your trust, Miss Archeron?” Eris asked, the words ringing with a sincerity that Nesta was reluctant to believe. And how could she? She believed in actions, not words. No apology could paint over the fact that Eris’ behavior had hurt her, time and again.

“Nothing,” she said, feeling hollow. “There is no trust to regain.”

And though Nesta walked the gardens for nearly two hours, that hollowness did not abate.

* * * * *

Spring arrived in a riot of color, flowers blooming in every crack and hollow. Elain was predictably taken with all of it, falling to her knees in fields of wildflowers to admire them, Lucien at her side. Nesta was much more subdued in her appreciation. She contented herself in the library, spending hours with new novels. Her one concession to the fine weather was to sit by an open window. It had the added benefit of allowing her to watch over her sister.

If Elain snuck off into the shadows, Nesta did not say a word. She merely smiled and turned another page.

Her simple joy was briefly interrupted by an event in a nearby village. The Duchess announced that they should all attend to take advantage of the sunny day at hand. And so Nesta wound up on horseback, struggling to stay in the saddle.

Eris trotted up alongside her, brows raised. “Miss Archeron, are you quite alright?” he asked.

“Fine,” Nesta growled, adjusting her skirts. She hated riding sidesaddle. But polite company would not allow for any other manner of riding.

“You’ll soon have a reprieve,” Eris said, pointing down the road. “The village is just ahead.” At her nod, Eris picked up a trot once more, riding ahead. Her gaze was drawn, unerringly, to the broad shoulders filling out his jacket. All of his clothes were finely tailored, snug enough to leave very little to the imagination. So Nesta was painfully aware of the Duke’s slim waist and the way his muscled thighs gripped the saddle. She forced herself to look away, to look at anything else.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Lucien’s wry grin. Nesta ignored him.

Mercifully, they arrived in the village without incident. Nesta was all too glad to escape the saddle, and so was her horse. She patted the mare’s neck in sympathy, promising herself a proper ride. One without escorts so that she might enjoy herself.

The village was hosting a small spring festival, celebrating the end of a long winter. A crowd was gathering, all of the Duke’s tenants descending upon the village for the day. Nesta remained on the outskirts, content to watch the activity from afar. Young boys set up friendly competitions, their fathers cheering them on. Women sold treats from makeshift stalls, or wandered through the throng with baskets of goods. Elain was laughing, the sound bright and warm, soothing something in Nesta’s chest. Lucien stood beside her, his gaze full of such emotion, Nesta had to look away. She did not want to let her own petty jealousy spoil her sister’s happiness.

Somehow, weeks had passed since their arrival at the Vanserra estate. The days passed quickly with so much to occupy them. Nesta was fond of her quiet talks with the Duchess over tea and scones. She spent countless afternoons exploring the Forest House and its many libraries, carefully avoiding the Duke in his own home. And through it all, she watched Elain and Lucien fall in love.

It was hard not to want such a thing for herself.

Nesta once told her sister that she would likely end up as an old maid. And watching the young couple, so gentle with one another, Nesta came to believe it was true. She would never be easy to love, not like Elain. And Nesta had only herself to blame.

Seeing that everyone was occupied, Nesta ventured off on her own. She meandered through the small cluster of buildings, occupied by tradespeople and the like. Rounding a corner, Nesta found a small knot of people. Farmers, mostly, judging from their clothes. At the center of the group, she caught a flicker of red hair.

Then two people shifted, allowing Nesta a better look. And there was the Duke, grinning and shaking hands. A woman approached him, carrying a squalling child on one hip. But to Nesta’s immense shock, Eris reached out to take the babe into his arms. His smile turned soft, bouncing the child as he spoke to its mother.

The man before her was a stranger. A stranger allowing a baby to muss his carefully styled hair, pulling at the long red strands in chubby fists. Eris simply laughed, gently extricating the tiny hands and returning the now-smiling baby to its mother.

Nesta blinked, then blinked again. Surely it was a dream, an act of some kind. This was not the true face of the Duke. And yet it remained, his mask uncracked before so many people. They spoke to him with a familiarity that Nesta never could have guessed at. Older men patted his back, the women fixing his mussed hair. A toddler tugged at his coattails, giggling.

Then Eris looked up, his eyes finding hers from across the square. Nesta gasped, retreating around the corner. She did not wait to see if he followed, hurrying down the path she’d come.

Her heart raced. Why did she feel so unsettled? As though she’d seen something she shouldn’t have? The Duke had been conversing in public, in plain view for anyone to see. He could hardly be upset that she’d witnessed it.

Nesta strode through the crowds, moving quickly. Perhaps she could ride back to the manor alone, she thought. It would give the Duke time to forget what she’d witnessed. Or was it better to prepare her questions? Rather than letting him interrogate her, she should initiate an inquisition of her own.

Before her thoughts could spiral out of control, she collided with one of the villagers. “Oh, I am terribly sorry,” Nesta blurted, reaching out to steady the other woman.

Teal eyes met hers, and the auburn-haired woman smiled broadly. “No harm done,” she said, her voice almost musical. “You’re in quite a rush, aren’t you?”

Nesta’s answering smile was strained. “Indeed,” she murmured, looking over the woman’s shoulder. The horses were just ahead. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Are you the lady engaged to Lord Lucien?”

Nesta stopped, turning back to face the woman. “No,” she said. “My sister is.”

Those teal eyes twinkled. “After the Duke, then, are you?”

Nesta’s lungs froze. “Of course not,” she snapped. The words escaped her, harsher than she intended. “That is highly presumptuous of you to say. What is your name?”

“Gwyneth Berdara,” the woman said with a quick grin. “But you can call me Gwyn, miss.”

“And what is your business, that you should comment upon a lady’s engagement?” Nesta asked, voice frosty.

“Oh, it’s not my business at all,” Gwyneth laughed a bit. “But it’s hardly my fault for using my eyes. You weren’t discreet, watching the Duke.”

Nesta gritted her teeth. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I also saw the Duke leave to visit the miller’s new daughter. And then you followed him,” the woman said, her eyes twinkling. “And not fifteen minutes later, you came back alone and blushing.” Gwyneth leaned in to whisper, “I’ve two eyes and I know how to use them, miss.”

Nesta reared back, pinning the woman with her fiercest glare. “You overstep,” she snarled. But her eyes caught a flicker of movement, a flash of scarlet.

“Ah, that must be your intended,” Gwyneth teased. “The blush is back on your cheeks.”

“He is not my intended,” Nesta said, scanning the crowd. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw the Duchess, her auburn hair glowing in the afternoon sun.

“You’d make a handsome pair,” Gwyneth went on, happy to ignore Nesta. “And it would be quite a thing to see the Duke happy.”

Nesta paused, turning back to the strange woman. “What do you mean by that?”

Wide teal eyes glittered. “I’ve lived in the village my whole life. I watched the Duke grow into a man, just like everyone else.”

Nesta opened her mouth, ready to say she didn’t care. Ready to storm away, regardless of what rumors this woman spilled. But her feet refused to move. “What was he like?” Nesta found herself asking. She scrambled, trying to cover her curiosity. “Was he a cruel little lord, like he is now?”

“Cruel? Oh no, that was his father,” Gwyneth said, shaking her head. “There wasn’t a single person who mourned his loss. There’s no doubt the family is better off without him, as are we.” Gwyneth tucked an errant strand of copper hair behind her ear. “He’s been good to us, the Duke. It’s hard not to want happiness for him.”

Nesta’s mind whirled. She’d heard very little about the former Duke, even from Eris himself. She recalled a brief mention in his letter. Had Eris even mentioned the man’s name? She didn’t think so. Even the Duchess had failed to say a word about her late husband. Lucien as well. It may have been several years since his passing, but the fact that none of the Vanserras spoke his name was telling, was it not? Considering Eris’ calculated nature, she did not think the omission was an accident.

After all, how many times had Nesta mentioned her own mother in the months after the funeral? Or even before?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of the Duke, head swiveling in search of her, no doubt. “I really must be going,” Nesta said, turning her back to him. She couldn’t face Eris, not yet. Not when she felt so uncertain about him. Ever since their arrival at the Forest House, Nesta sensed something amiss. How could she be so wrong about him? Her judgments had never been wrong before. The Duke had to be lying, putting on some elaborate act for these people. Where was his temper? His cold disdain? His infuriating sense of pride and arrogance? The man she’d seen in the village, the man Gwyneth described—he was a stranger. He wasn’t real.

Nesta barely heard Gwyneth’s farewell, too focused on her escape. She needed to get away, to put some distance between herself and the man who threatened to shake her very foundations. She needed time to plan her offensive, lest he gain the upper hand in his careful deception. Nesta refused to be caught unawares when he next tried to fool her.

She cut through the throng, untying her horse from its post. Nesta did not hesitate to swing one leg over the saddle, urging the horse onwards. The mare obliged her, racing along the hard-packed dirt.

The wind whipped at her cheeks, tugging at her hair with harsh fingers. Nesta felt her pins come loose, her hair tumbling down her back, but she didn’t care. Her skirt edged up her calves, her hemline inching further with every hoof beat. She didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t care.

With nothing but wide open fields around her, the thunder of the horse beneath her, and her racing heartbeat in her ears, Nesta finally managed to breathe. The air tasted sweet, cooling her lungs. On the horizon, the clouds were edged in bright gold, the sun dropping low in the sky. It felt like freedom.

The mare knew where they were going, and the Forest House loomed ever larger. When Nesta finally slowed the horse to a trot, she heard hoofbeats behind her. A glance over her shoulder proved her fears correct. “Leave me be,” she shouted, bringing her mount to a halt before the front entrance. Nesta swung out of the saddle just as Eris arrived alongside her.

“I thought you could not ride,” Eris snapped, boots hitting the ground moments after hers. “I feared you would injure yourself, riding so recklessly.”

“You know nothing about me,” Nesta hissed, all but throwing the reins at a servant who approached. She spun on her heel, aiming for the doors.

“Have we not had this conversation before?” Eris asked. He followed her into the manor, nearly tripping on her skirts. “You have not allowed me close enough to learn anything, Miss Archeron. How was I to know of your abilities?”

“Oh, so now you wish to grow closer to me? For what purpose?” Nesta demanded. She stalked down the hallways without a destination, only knowing she wished to get away.

“Our siblings are to be married,” Eris said, the words too loud for the empty hallway. His exasperation tugged at her, slowing her steps. “The least we can do is be civil to one another.”

“Another act, Your Grace? Surely you must be tired of all these performances,” Nesta scoffed, coming to a halt. She turned her head to level a glare at him. “Which is the true Eris Vanserra? The man who proposed to me under questionable circumstances? The one who ruined my sister’s engagement? Or perhaps the man who plays with his tenants’ children? The one who is civil for the good of his family?”

Eris stared at her, amber eyes blazing. “I heard you that night, when you listed my faults,” he said at last. “And I was ashamed to realize how many were true. You had every right to think little of me, and I wanted—more than anything—to change that.”

“Unfortunately for you, I’ve already seen your true face,” Nesta said. “You need not attempt to deceive me.”

“It is no deception,” Eris said.

“Isn’t it?” Nesta laughed, the sound bitter on her tongue. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you’ve changed? For the better?”

“How many times must I apologize to you?” Eris roared, the words ripping out of him, hot and vicious. “Must I bend the knee? Beg your forgiveness? Would you even give it?”

Nesta’s eyes burned, her hands shaking. She squeezed them into fists to stop the trembling. “No,” she sneered at him, looking down her nose despite their difference in height. “I wouldn’t.”

“And why not?” Eris demanded to know, jaw clenched. “Why are you so desperate to hold this grudge?”

“Because I hate you,” Nesta hissed. “I hate you.”

“You can do better than that,” Eris said, taunting her. The corner of his lips twitched up, almost a smirk. “Where is your impassioned speech, Miss Archeron?”

Nesta whirled, refusing to spend another moment in his presence. Refusing to spend another moment staring at his infuriating face, his perfect mouth. But even with her back to him, she felt his eyes burning into her.

“I think you just want an excuse to be cruel,” Eris said, the words nipping at her heels as she stalked away. “An excuse to keep your distance, to hide from the feelings that actually plague you. I am merely an easy target. But only as long as I am some beast of a man. Easy to hate.”

“I am not running from you,” Nesta called over her shoulder.

“I did not say you were. Perhaps that sentiment is your own,” Eris said, the words wrapping around her neck like a noose.

Nesta angled herself back towards him, a blade in her own right. “Why can’t you keep your distance and leave me be?”

“Because it will only further solidify your poor opinion of me,” Eris said. “I do not wish to be a stain upon your memory any longer.”

Nesta closed the distance between them, keeping her gaze fixed on his, and not on his mouth. “I do not wish for your presence,” she said, her voice low. “Especially not alone.”

“Do you normally come this close to people you despise?”

Nesta’s cheeks burned, suddenly aware of her skirts brushing his legs. “I hate you,” she repeated, covering her embarrassment. She refused to move, to admit defeat.

“Do you?” Eris asked, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “It hardly looks like it.”

“I hate you,” Nesta said again, sharpening her tongue. But his amber gaze proved an effective distraction, especially this close. She could see his long lashes hitting his cheeks on every blink. Faint freckles dotted his nose, the high points of his cheeks. His wry smile warmed her stomach.

Nesta shoved down the memory of the kiss, needing to keep her sanity in check. But Eris must have seen something in her face. Some weakness she’d failed to hide. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he dared her.

“I’m thinking that my mother had a false face and a true one. And the real one only came out in private,” Nesta said, her voice so quiet, she could scarcely hear the words.

Eris leaned in, close enough to make her breath catch. “Not everything is an act.”

She couldn’t look away from his mouth. She remembered what it felt like, the feather-soft warmth of him. She wished she didn’t long for it so much. “But I hate you,” she said, but the words were too soft to carry much meaning.

Eris heard her anyway. They were too close for him to miss them. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

Nesta inhaled sharply, the air stinging her lungs. Her fingers brushed his sleeve, just barely skimming the fabric. Eris stilled, his burning gaze falling to her lips, resting there like a hot coal.

I hate you, she thought furiously. Her fingers pressed harder, until she could feel the corded strength of his arm. Somehow, her hand ended up cupping his jaw, her thumb just barely kissing the corner of his mouth.

“It feels like I am drowning,” Nesta whispered. She was determined to drag him down with her into the deep. Perhaps she did not need to love him. Perhaps loving the taste of his lips was enough. Perhaps she could hate and love in equal measure. Perhaps this was all she deserved. Not some fairytale, but a liar who made her burn.

Then Eris stepped back, leaving her clutching at air. “You denied me once,” he said quietly. “I will not force you to do so again.”

Nexta exhaled harshly, hands falling to her sides. She watched him leave. She waited there, frozen, until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Until the world roared in her ears.

I hate you.

* * * * *

Previous • Next

[vulpes-fennec]

Happy Day 6 (Anniversaries) of @sjmromanceweek!!!

In which Suriel sits down with celebrated romance author, Sellyn Drake (aka Helion ☀️), for an exclusive interview. Don’t forget about the Dear Suriel at the end!

Gentle reader, what better way to commemorate our Valentine's Day issue than an exclusive interview with the elusive romance author, Sellyn Drake? You can pre-order It Happened One Autumn from Prythian Publishers today! 

Suriel's Society Papers (SSP): Congratulations on your latest release, It Happened One Autumn! Tell us, what is the novel about? 

Sellyn Drake (SD): Thank you, Suriel. It is an honor to be featured in your highly popular society column. In It Happened One Autumn, the failed migration of the monarch butterflies portends doom for the future of the Autumn Court. Can Belinda, a high class lady desperately escaping an arranged marriage, and Everett, a humble bookseller eager to prove himself, team up to find the missing butterflies without developing feelings for each other? Of course, we all know the answer is no. But the journey holds plenty of Autumn Court exploration, forced proximity, and class differences in store for readers. 

SSP: Wonderful! I cannot wait to read it. From one writer to another, how did you start writing? 

SD: So, young Sellyn Drake would hole up in the libraries, devouring books nonstop! Reading sparked my interest in telling stories. My earliest stories were born from daydreaming during class. Boredom is a potent ingredient for creativity, after all. My first book proposal was rejected by publishers, and I spent another year reworking the story. It took many more rejections before a small publishing company finally gave me a chance. And then the rest is history, as they say. 

SSP: Well I'm glad you never gave up! What drew you to the genre of romance and erotica? 

SD: As a voracious reader, I felt the erotica section was not...how do I put it? Varied enough. It was always a male and female High Fae cycling through the same five positions! I thought, why not write the erotica that I would enjoy reading? Why not throw in the threesomes, the orgies, sex in the air, sex in the sea? Everything goes, with Sellyn Drake's novels. 

SSP: Yes, you certainly paved the way for more diverse erotica stories! 

SD: And why romance, you ask? Well, love is the most powerful thing in existence. There are so many ways love can manifest! I think everybody is searching for love, whether they realize it or not. 

SSP: You have written over 200 novels, which is quite an accomplishment! Tell us, what are some of your favorite tropes? 

SD: Now that you've reminded me, today is the 300th anniversary of my first published book! That's a tough question, Suriel. I don't discriminate, but I find myself enjoying the lovable rogue (Winning the Warrior's Heart), one night stands (Confessions from Calanmai), and fated mates (My Deal with the Daemati) tropes the most.

SSP: Do the smut scenes, which are absolutely delicious by the way, come from personal experience? Asking for a friend. 

SD: [laughs] Yes, there is always some grain of truth in them, otherwise the scenes wouldn't come together nicely. Some of the scenes are a product of wishful thinking. 

SSP: Surely an acclaimed author like you finds inspiration somewhere. Is there a special someone in your life? 

SD: Yes, the love of my life is my inspiration in everything I do. Circumstances have tragically kept us apart for centuries, but the time we had was the happiest I'd ever been. I draw heavily on those memories whenever I need to get to the crux of my characters' feelings for each other. I'll admit I am guilty of self-inserting us into my stories, since I always give my characters the happy endings my love and I couldn't have. 

SSP: [sniffles] Oh, Sellyn Drake, that hurts my heart. You've got me crying. Oh, no, don't apologize. I should be conducting myself more professionally. Moving onto our next question! Do you read your fan mail? Criticisms? 

SD: Yes, of course! A good author keeps up with their fans and constructive criticisms. I regretfully do not have time to respond to everybody, but I hope they know that I read and cherish all of their fan mail. Truly, it is more appreciation than I could have ever imagined. 

SSP: How much time do you spend writing? 

SD: [chuckles] I'm sure many readers have grasped by now that "Sellyn Drake" is just a pseudonym. That's because being an author is not my full-time job. I'd say...hmm...no more than five hours weekly. For me, writing is a way to destress. You don't need to be a full-time author to get published, and you don't need to get published to enjoy writing!

SSP: That is encouraging to hear. And a pseudonym, eh? Any hint for your fans as to who you are in real life? 

SD: This is perhaps one of my most commonly asked questions! Like you, Suriel, I am often hiding in plain sight. Some random facts: I hate the cold, I love spicy food, and I am terrified of seagulls.

SSP: That will leave us with a bit of mystery as we conclude our interview. Thank you again, Sellyn Drake, for sharing with us today!

SD: Thank you, Suriel! 

Dear Suriel, There's been a heated debate in court over calculating anniversaries. My advisors claim that after one year of marriage, the couple should celebrate "happy two years" because they have made it to their second year of marriage. This simply does not make any sense to me. I argued back that it should be "happy one year" because only ONE year has passed. What's so hard to understand about that? My court also has a schedule of anniversary gifts pertaining to the anniversary year (for example, first anniversary is the gift of flowers, second anniversary is the gift of wood, and so on). Unfortunately, my wife and I already marked 138 years of friendship with those gifts! Any ideas for a meaningful present? Thank you, Jack Frost

Dear Jack Frost, Oh, I love how you and your wife celebrated friendship anniversaries, as they are just as important! You are correct regarding anniversary years, by the way. I'm sorry, but if your advisors cannot grasp basic mathematics, I suggest replacing them immediately. Ideally with a new High Lady. Happy anniversary! Suriel 

Rita’s 200th Anniversary: Love is love! Bring your significant other for a free drink! Join us for a festive night of live music and dancing! (18+ event)

[lacunafiction]

Hello! First off I'd like to thank you for writing such an intriguing story and being such a kind and lovely person. I have to say that your IF had me hooked from the beginning, this brand of suspense and thriller is exactly what I wished to read in an IF and it took me this long to find one that strikes the perfect balance between interpersonal relationships and horror that slowly sinks its claw deeper into the story, it was honestly delightful to read the MCs inner turmoil being plagued by nightmares and their past experiences in the town. The town, my God, what a lovely little secretive place it is, I love the feeling of unease and how far removed it is from civilization. It feels like it's own, weird bubble and I quite enjoy this feeling of being...contained. The ROs are all lovely, tho admittedly I've yet to start a route for anyone besides B (who I'd die for btw) but can I say how smitten I am with the waiter and ??? (and the really ominous similarity they seem to have, or maybe it's just me drawing hasty conclusions but I swear some of the things W says just makes me want to take apart every previous conversation and decypher it's true meaning.) what I meant to say is W is having a very easy time monopolizing my MCs attention whenever they pop up, it's a bit unnerving how much power they seem to hold. Will they get a more permanent role in the 2nd book? Again thank you for creating such a lovely IF, I'll be happy to support you in the future. (and might as well join patron to sate my craving for romance and tidbits about your world.)

Hello Anon,

Thank you for this kind ask, but also for taking the time to connect with Fernweh! 🌲 Honestly, what you typed about striking that balance is all that I could have hoped for--an eeriness that creeps in, but you as a reader still enjoy developing relationships and discovering more.

All of these kind B-mancers willing to die for B would break them. (I feel like most of you know that they feel the exact same way. Hmm.)

Picking apart what the W says is a great way to get a better read on them because they are extremely deliberate with what they say. 👀

The W features in the Patreon Valentine's content 💘; I'll share the next Content Schedule soon, but B and W should be up first. (There will be 3 side stories in February and then three in March to account for the 6 romance routes.) The W’s bonus writing became one of the longest, possibly because I've been eagerly anticipating their reveal. I'm glad you're intrigued by them! Also, they will be getting a more prominent role in Book Two, including learning more about them and whom they may be close to within Fernweh. Your MC will naturally have to make some degree of effort to trigger even more scenes with them; they like it like that. 😉

It's truly an honor to share TFS with you all and thank you for considering becoming a patron. :D

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 14:

Gif by: @hotd-odds-n-ends

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @stargaryenx

A/n: Aemee is pronounced Amy/Aimee

“Teora told me you have had dragon dreams.” Grandmother wastes no time as she gently dries Aemma’s thick hair.

“I have only had two visions, not all my fits result in a vision. I think I’ll be needing more teacups.” Aemma likes being coddled, she just doesn’t like that her grandmother uses this time to get every single drop of information out of her.

“I need you to tell us when you have them, and what you saw. Sometimes we can prevent something from happening by warning others of the danger ahead.” Luckily, Rhaenys doesn’t like drawing out conversations if she doesn’t have to.

“If I write them in a letter, they will be read by the maesters and they will think I am insane.” There would never be a way to warn people, not without them shutting her up in a tower away from everyone.

“No, but you can you write them down in the journal Maester Mathis gave you before your grandfather left, and then show me what you saw. People will just think you wrote one of your stories down and let me read it.” Grandmother is wise and smarter than anyone she knows, of course her ideas are always good.

“I will think about it, lady grandmother.”

---

Aemma writes Aemond’s name on the underside of one the parchment flowers.

She is not the only one, even missing an eye he is still one of the most handsome boys here.

But she is the only one here who has kissed him.

And the only one here related to the boy he hates for taking his eye.

Perhaps the Andal Gods can help her with that.

Goodnight, Aemee, he had said and given her a second kiss when their passageways separated them.

Both kisses were clumsy and awkward, but to her they felt magical. Aemma had felt like Jonquil being kissed by Florian.

“No fair, you wrote yours in High Valyrian.” Hazel pouted and showed her where she had written Daeron’s name.

“It’s supposed to be a secret, no one but the Maiden should know the names we’ve written there, or else it won’t come true.” Aemma defends her secrecy.

“Do you think Prince Aemond knows you like him?” Hazel whispers after the ceremony is over.

Aemma prays she doesn’t know she’s flustered at the idea of him knowing she likes him that way and not because she knows the feeling is mutual.

----

Aemma is given a seat at grandfather’s right. Mother always sat at his right, but because she is not there and grandfather likes to pretend Aemma is her.

She wears her snow-white dress and a golden circlet with seven gemstones that mirror the crown Viserys wears.

It had belonged to Princess Alyssa Targaryen and because grandfather only cares about Rhaenyra, he has snubbed both his wife and his other daughter in favor of Aemma.

When she comes of age, he has promised her Queen Alysanne’s crown. The one Queen Aemma wore, the one he refuses to let Alicent wear.

A reminder to all that Aemma he wed for love and Alicent for duty.          

“I have asked your mother to let you stay here, to keep this old man company and serve as my cupbearer just as your mother did.” It is not up for debate, if the king wishes to keep her here, Aemma will be here.

“I would be honored, grandfather, but I promised my mother I would stay with her at least until the next year.” She hopes her decline is heard. A stupid notion, she thinks, one does not say no to a king.

“And why is that?” he asks her as if he truly cared about her opinions and thoughts, maybe he does and Aemma is just being too distrustful of adults again.

“I need to learn how to rule Dragonstone, your grace. If I am to be queen after my mother, I need to know how to be Princess of Dragonstone and apply all that I have learned from my grandparents and their ways of ruling Driftmark.”

Aemma has many plans, she had heard that Braavos had women learning in their universities now, that the first was now a professor of law.

Dragonstone barely had schools for boys of low backgrounds, she wanted to open schools for girls and schools were both children are taught together like in Essos.

Dragonstone also had issues of her mother not listening to her vassals, and her vassal lords distrusting her.

And if Aemma wanted cement her position as heir, she needed to keep Dragonstone and the Crownlands loyal to their faction.

If they couldn’t be loyal to mother, they must be loyal to Aemma.

Make them know Aegon is not the answer, show them that the only answer is you, Vaemond had taught her.

So many issues her grandmother didn’t have in Driftmark, and for that to be fixed Aemma needed at least a year in Dragonstone.

“She is wise beyond her years; she will be a great queen and make our ancestors proud.” King Viserys proclaims to everyone and Aemma wished he’d stop doing that.

She doesn’t like how he makes them look at her like he was responsible for her greatness, like she was the only other member of his family besides mother, and worse, she doesn’t like how Ser Otto looks at her like she is a threat to him as he is forced to nod in agreement.

She is a threat, just as he and his family are to hers.

Strange how she is not allowed to be a girl of three and ten because her fucking family happens to be Targaryens.

Strange how they smile at each other yet hide knives behind their backs knowing the second King Viserys dies there won’t be reason to hide them anymore.

Grandfather is the shield that protects Aemma’s family, and the moment he dies the dragons will all start to die and so will they.

“She is of pure Valyrian blood, your grace, how could she not?” Vaemond emphasized the word pure and looked at Otto straight in the eye. “Had she been male I have no doubts Princess Rhaenyra and my late nephew would have named her Jaehaerys.”

Eight months later, Otto Hightower will name Aegon and Helaena’s twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

It will be then that the Velaryons will realize that Alicent and her children are just pieces in the board, Otto Hightower is the man Corlys and Rhaenys are playing against and have been since his appointment during the reign of Jaehaerys the First.

He, Aemma realizes in that second, is lighting the way to their downfall. A green beacon leading them to their deaths.

Otto Hightower does not care about anyone least of all his own daughter, he only cares about his ambition.

“And why do you think, dear Lord Vaemond, the gods make her a girl?” the queen asks hiding her mockery very well.

Her insults are her defense, she must rely on men to defend her because Andal women were raised to think they need them.

A sad existence, Aemma thinks, to belittle others because somehow it will loosen the yoke she wears. And it never does, it just makes others unsympathetic to her plight.

To be frank, Aemma is tired of her petty insults, to feel the pricks of her needle because that is how Alicent copes with the shitty hand life has dealt her.

“Comedy, I suppose. The Gods have a sense of humor, a terrible and wicked one, I think, why else would they give my kingly grandfather a bounty of sons after he finally listened to them and made mother his heir?”

Aemond will hate her after this.

No wishing on the Maiden will ever make him forgive this insult on him and his family.

But Aemma will be damned if she lets anyone make her feel inadequate because of her sex.