#I shall return eventually though...

[oldmanlusting]

Hello, fellow anton ego kisser thank you i though I'm the only one who wants to kiss that man :3333

Yayyyy yippee :))))

AAAAAAA hi hello my comrade in arms!!!! I knowww, it’s so rare to see someone else appreciate Anton Ego despite how lovely his character arc develops in such a short timespan! I really do think his face is beautiful too, just the size of his nose and the subtle yet distinct shape of his lips. Not to mention his long-legged gait, or his swanky eyebrows, or his way of carrying himself-

I'm so glad you found your way here, although my Ego posting has been sparse it's super fun to know there’s another person out there who shares the joy of liking (and kissing) That French Man!!¡¡

Wooo yay yippie indeed!! Seeing you through the activity page made me smile, thank you for the message!

[lilflowerpot]

Casually reading LB for the 3rd time 🤫 I just want to share my appreciation for making such a MASTERPIECE 😫I can't even begin to explain how I can physically *FEEL* the sexual tension 😭it's almost painful... and I love how you always answer the questions we ask about the world!!! It is so absolutely amazing and you deserve all the best ♥️♥️ I can safely say I have never read something so perfectly done under Keitor 🤌 Aaaaaand because I'm just a little bit selfish and greedy (this is totally up to you I just wanted to ask anyway) is there anyway I could ask for your view on how the garrison would react to finding out Keith is in a romantic relationship with Lotor. Like would they approve? Feel shocked? Disapprove because he is quite literally the Galra Emperor and the spawn of Sa- Zarkon? How would Keith's bullies, teachers and observers react? I'm just so curious and wanted to know your take 🤷‍♀️ again love your work so much!!

High praise indeed! Thank you so much my love!! (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ‿ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

The Garrison as an institution would be,,, surprised, to say the least. Cadet Kogane, as Keith was known to them, was all raw talent and jagged edges; it's generally considered a great pity by the top brass that they were unable to mould him into Shirograne 2.0, but ability without obedience is just as useless as the reverse, so naturally they had no choice but to discharge him for poor conduct. To know that an alien Empire was able to make a soldier out of him where they were not is a little galling, certainly, but nonetheless Keith's human heritage and Earthen background establish him as an invaluable foothold and ambassador—

—except... the situation is nothing of the sort they expected.

Because the cadet-turned-consort is, if anything, worse than they remember. No longer jagged but cutting, less bullheaded than brutal, and though his ill-temper has in turn been tempered, rather than shape him into the obliging sort, Keith Kogane stands before them sharp as a whip with all the political power to back him up.

Where the Garrison would have cut the boy down to the shape of a soldier, the Empire has gone forth to forge a warrior of him.

Those that knew Keith a little more personally, though? Beyond that initial moment of jaw-dropped shock, I imagine that it would strike them as remarkable only in that everything Keith Kogane is always has been.

[nebulaafterdark]

The Succession

Summary: After the battle of Rook’s Rest, Queen Y/N is forced to rule alongside Prince Regent Aemond, in an attempt to keep her children safe and eventually seat her mother, Rhaenyra, on the throne. While attending her husband, on what appears to be his deathbed, she begins to unravel the dark truth of his near passing.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

“Behold, the traitor dragon, Meleys. Slain by King Aegon.”

Cole might’ve bellowed anything before the mention of Y/N’s husband and she would not have heard it. Breaching the castle doors, out onto the streets, where the smallfolk stare in wonder. The Queen has scarcely been seen in the days following her husband’s accession, leaving many to wonder if she still lives.

Here she stands, in the flesh, walking about them like a commoner. “Where is Aegon?” She finds Ser Criston, keeping pace beside his horse.

“You mustn’t be about, your grace. It is not safe.”

“Where is my husband?”

Ser Gwayne looks back toward his fallen nephew, now carried by men.

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, falling in line with the oversized box one might mistake for a casket. She can’t see much of anything through the slats.

“You must return to the castle, my Queen.” Cole circles back for her. “His Grace will need you at his side.”

“He’s alive?” Y/N breathes.

“When last I checked.”

She nods, remaining beside her husband as he is carted into the castle, up the stairs to his chambers. The maesters await him, peeling away armor and bits of charred flesh with it, to reveal the extent of his injuries.

“Is my son going to die?” Alicent asks.

“He is badly burned.” The maester informs the Queen dowager.

“Men survive burns.” Y/N says, holding a hand to her belly, attempting to quell the churning.

“He has many broken bones.”

“Bones heal.”

The grand maester sighs, “that is our hope, your grace.”

What lies beneath his breastplate is naught but more red, angry skin, or lack there of. Alicent comes round to Y/N, a rare occasion, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Mayhaps it is best you step away.”

“I will stay,” Y/N shakes her head, “if anything happens… I must stay.” Hold his hand as he goes, if it comes to it.

Alicent nods, withdrawing.

Aegon’s breathing is something awful. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

An eternity passes in that room, on bated breath. Eventually the maesters begin clearing out, leaving the King to mutter, incoherently.

“Your grace.” The grand maester turns to Y/N. “It is done.”

“Thank you, Grand Maester. For all you have done, I- I owe you a debt.”

The man takes her hand, “we can only do so much to aid in the king’s healing, I believe it is you he needs. Be his strength.”

Y/N nods, “of course.” She makes herself comfortable upon the mattress beside him as the doors close, giving them a moment alone.

Aegon’s mumblings grow louder, though still impossible to make sense of.

“Shhh,” Y/N hushes him, brushing hair from his face. “There is nothing to fear. You need only…get better for me. I will tend the council shortly, but I shall return.”

He quiets then, as though her gentle reassurance is all he wanted.

“I will not abandon you. Not now, not ever. Rest easy, my love. You are safe now.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, before taking the stairs down to join the small council.

Those sitting around the table are already in deep discussion, gaping at the Queen’s entrance, standing to greet her.

“So kind of you to wait for me, my lords.” Y/N smiles, taking her ball from the center.

“We thought you might be with his grace, the king.” The hand explains. “He will be expecting you when he wakes.”

“I am not sure he will ever wake.” The grand maester cuts in. “His fate lies with the gods now.”

“Give it time.” Y/N sniffs, “it has been mere hours since his return.”

“If Aegon could wake, he would have done so for you.” Alicent decides. “A king cannot rule in his sleep, we must appoint a regent to serve in his absence.”

“I am awake.” Y/N reminds them.

“My Queen,” Tyland Lannister interjects, “if I may be so bold. Your lord husband has been wounded in battle, he will need your tender hand if we hope him to make any sort of recovery.”

“That is very thoughtful of you, Lord Tyland.” Y/N replies, in a measured tone. Should she lose her head before the council, there will be no coming back from it. “Still, I am willing and able to rule.”

“In the event of his grace’s untimely death, we must be prepared to proceed with the succession.”

“Understandably, and we do not lack heirs. My husband and I have four children.” Y/N shifts in her chair. “Assuming, as you have, that the men of the realm will never accept a woman on the throne, we then pass the crown to our first born son.” To charm the snakes, you must behave as a snake.

The council looks to each other. “Prince Laenor is but two years of age, our next ruling king, by law; though too young to presently serve.”

“I will advise him, I am his mother.”

Alicent rises from her seat, “might I humbly suggest myself? I have already done so during my late husband’s long illness-”

“Which was fine then?” Y/N arches a brow, “a wife to rule in her husband’s absence.”

Alicent lowers her gaze. “This is different.”

“Because I am your enemy’s daughter and named heir,” Y/N huffs. “Rules for thee, not for me. Isn’t that right?”

“Mind yourself.”

“Or what?” Y/N lifts a shoulder, “you will usurp my husband, as you did my mother?”

“Viserys changed his mind.” Alicent says, with finality. “I am sorry for what’s happened, but with his dying breath, he wished for Aegon to be king. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon.”

“I love my husband,” Y/N seethes, “let that be known.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Whatever the members of this council intend to do now will be spoken plainly, in my presence.” Y/N demands, staring down at her wedding ring.

“I believe it is in our best interest to appoint Prince Aemond as Regent, until our King has been restored.” Ser Criston announces, “as hand, I know the king’s greatest concern is the safety and well being of his wife and children. We must honor that, in these unprecedented times.”

Y/N swallows, “very well.”

“My Queen.” Aemond reaches past her for the council ball, abandoned by her husband.

————————————————————————

Y/N goes through the motions, putting their children to bed. All is well, my darlings. Father needs only rest. When they have each found sleep, she returns to Aegon. Speaking to him the same way she always has, as though he can hear.

“The men of the council are restless in your absence. They circle like vultures now,” Y/N chokes out, touching the unmarred skin of his face. “And I am alone in this….I have never been alone.”

If she knew no better, she could swear his fingers twitch against hers. Mayhaps she is gripping them too tightly. She releases his hand, much to Aegon’s dismay, grumbling his discontent.

“Hush now, I am here and you are here. The rest will sort,” Y/N reminds him.

She watches him then, the heaving rise and fall of his chest, wrapped in bandages. Men survive burns. Bones heal.

In time, Alicent joins her at Aegon’s side. “Has there been any change?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head.

“You are kind to be here, he loves nothing in the world as he loves you. I am sure your presence alone is a comfort to him.”

“That is my hope,” Y/N admits.

“I will leave you to it.” Alicent offers a hint of a smile, making for the door.

“Mummy.”

Y/N hears it, his mother does not. “Alicent,” she calls her back.

Alicent flicks away tears before turning round, “what is it?”

“He’s asking for you.”

“F-for me?”

Y/N nods, giving his hand a squeeze.

Alicent returns to his bedside, passing a hand over the side of his face. “I’m here.”

He draws in a rattling breath, “protect her.” Aegon stumbles over the words. “Please, Mummy.”

Y/N inhales sharply, hushing him.

Alicent locks eyes with her daughter by law. I pray you do not hear a similar whisper from your husband anytime soon. “I will do this, for you, Aegon. You needn’t worry.”

Aegon says nothing else, succumbing to sleep once more.

Alicent excuses herself, with a nod.

Y/N muffles the sound of her cries in the hand which isn’t holding his. She’s only half awake by the time she hears footfall and whispering at the end of her husband’s bed.

“Was it worth the price?” Helaena asks.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, my darling.” Aemond mutters, brushing his lips against her cheek.

Part 2

[saturnbellfromhell]

RANDOM ASTRO OBSERVATIONS

Welcome back! I hope you relished my roasting series as much as I did. I can’t wait to create another one and laugh all over again. But for now, we’re returning to the heart of my account—my favorite kind of post. I love observing the people around me and capturing the psychological traits they all seem to share. I'm excited to see all of your feedback and hope you enjoy reading this post as much as I loved creating it! So let's begin, shall we...

▫️CAPRICORN SUN

I believe the perfect match for a Capricorn is an incredible Scorpio. Both signs carry a certain darkness and mystery, each in their own unique way. They share a sharp edge, a love for a little cynicism, and a reputation for being pessimistic—when in reality, they’re just deeply realistic. They both understand the isolating feeling of being surrounded by people yet still feeling alone. They’re keenly aware of how time can crawl and race all at once. More than anything, they need a partner who will stand by them unwaveringly—someone who would go to the ends of the earth for them.

They have a deep love for all animals, but while they may get along well with dogs, I believe Capricorns are naturally more drawn to cats. They appreciate the quiet companionship of a solitary, independent creature rather than one that is constantly energetic and demanding. A cat’s reserved yet loyal nature aligns perfectly with a Capricorn’s own sense of self.

Capricorns may sometimes be seen as boring—after all, they prioritize stability and practicality—but beneath that exterior lies a wise, spiritual, and introspective soul. They crave meaningful connections, thoughtful conversations, and depth that go beyond surface-level interactions. Shallow exchanges bore them; they seek substance, authenticity, and a bond that truly resonates.

▫️AQUARIUS SUN

Another Saturn-ruled sign, but this time with a more high-spirited and free-spirited nature than our dear Capricorn. What I find so amusing is that every Aquarius I know seems almost indifferent to their own birthday—not in a sad or melancholic way, but with a casual, “Oh, thanks, I guess” kind of attitude. It’s as if they view celebrations of themselves as unnecessary, yet they’ll happily go all out for others.

Aquarius and Capricorn have an undeniable pull toward each other. Capricorns admire Aquarius’s visionary mind, while Aquarius respects Capricorn’s quiet strength and determination. Though they approach life differently, they both share a deep sense of independence and an appreciation for intellect, making their bond very close.

▫️MOON IN 12th HOUSE

There’s so much to unpack in this observation. Highly psychic, intuitive, and almost otherworldly, they navigate the unseen realm as if it were their personal gateway to deeper self-awareness. They don’t just sense energy—they absorb it, making them incredibly empathetic yet easily drained by those who feel too "normal" or disconnected from the deeper layers of existence. Their intuition is sharp; they can read a room and spot a bad vibe from miles away. It’s less of a skill and more of a knowing.

Life for them rarely feels steady—there’s always another transformation, another shift, making a "normal" week or year feel almost impossible.

With the Moon in the 12th house, isolation isn’t just a preference—it becomes a necessary refuge, a way to process the overwhelming energies they absorb. It’s not just about wanting to be alone; it’s about needing to retreat to protect their own spirit. However, their biggest lesson is learning when to disconnect—stepping away before they become completely drained. If they fall into the trap of constant people-pleasing, they risk deeper isolation and, eventually, emotional exhaustion. To truly thrive, they must prioritize their own energy just as much as they do for others.

They are the empaths of society, the caregivers, the spiritual teachers, the mothers, the fathers, and much more. They are all of the above wrapped up. They have lived and outlived many lives before choosing this one. Always on a journey to complete an invisible mission.

▫️CANCER MOON

Often looked down upon for their love of solitude, these individuals are actually some of the most comforting souls to exist. They don’t ask for much—just a cozy room, dim lighting, and a lover by their side. You can already picture the kind of person they are: someone who finds joy in life’s simplest pleasures. They appreciate good food, tend to be naturally sleepy, and have a soft spot for people who are often misunderstood by others.

They’re always eager to help when needed, but when overstimulated, their mood shifts quickly—becoming grumpy, distant, or even off-putting. And when deeply hurt, they may resort to manipulation or cunning behavior. Angels become devils quickly if not attended to correctly.

▫️NEPTUNE IN THE 11th HOUSE

Neptune, the planet that embodies Piscean energy, isn’t concerned with reality. Instead, it drifts into dreams and the abyss. In your birth chart, Neptune reveals the areas where clarity can become clouded over time, where rose-colored glasses are often worn, distorting one’s perception. When Neptune resides in the 11th house, the realm of groups and friendships, it can make it difficult to see situations clearly, especially when it comes to choosing friends.

Those with this placement often find themselves losing friends, trusting too easily, or losing their sense of self in their relationships. They tend to see the best in others, which can lead to heartbreak when they realize too late that their trust was misplaced. What’s right in front of them can go unnoticed, and by the time the truth reveals itself, it’s often already too late. Keep a steady eye when having this placemnet. Sometimes, your biggest enemy is sitting right next to you.

▫️LIBRA SUN

Libras can be seen as the “popular girl” who effortlessly draws attention without needing to try too hard, unlike a Leo who thrives on being the center of the spotlight. They naturally shine, but they don’t need to vocalize or flaunt it—there's a quiet confidence to them. Their need to always appear at their best can sometimes come off as superficial or a bit fake, creating a sense of distance. However, what many overlook about Libra is the deeper, darker energy they carry beneath the surface—something that often remains hidden.

What you see with a Libra is typically what you get—99% of the time. They rarely let anyone see the depths of who they truly are. While their gorgeous exterior and enthusiastic demeanor attract many, most people don’t stick around long enough to see past the façade. Though they draw the interest of signs like Scorpio, Cancer, and Capricorn, these connections often fall short of the emotional depth and loyalty they seek.

Capricorns, for instance, are always a bit wary and never fully trust a Libra. There’s something about them that just doesn’t sit right, though they can’t quite pinpoint it. Cancers, on the other hand, may feel neglected and unappreciated, often leaving when they sense their efforts to care for Libra aren’t reciprocated. Scorpios, despite their initial attraction, get frustrated with Libra’s seemingly indifferent attitude—an attitude that, deep down, they know is a mask for vulnerability and insecurity. Though all three signs can sense the hidden layers, they often end up walking away when they realize they’re not getting the emotional connection they hoped for.

▫️MOON IN THE 8th HOUSE

Moon in the 8th house holds immense power, one that can be both a gift and a challenge. People with this placement have the potential to undergo profound transformations, constantly evolving and reshaping themselves. However, these transformations are rarely easy. They often come through deep emotional upheaval, and navigating these intense shifts can be draining and difficult.

The 8th house Moon individuals are deeply connected to the unseen and unconscious realms, making them highly sensitive to emotions, often to the point of becoming overwhelmed. If they don't learn to channel their emotional depth constructively, they can become disconnected from their true selves and find it hard to navigate their inner world.

Because they feel so much and often don’t have the tools or outlets to process these intense emotions, they can fall into coping mechanisms like substance abuse as a way to numb the emotional overload. This is especially true if the individual’s emotional needs are neglected, and the heavy energy of transformation becomes too much to bear. Without support, people with this placement can become trapped in their own emotional cycles.

However, when these individuals do unlock the potential of their Moon in the 8th house, they have an incredible ability to heal themselves and others. Their emotional depth can lead to profound self-awareness, transformation, and even a powerful ability to guide others through their own emotional challenges. The key is self-acceptance and learning how to process those intense emotions in healthy ways, avoiding the temptation to numb them.

As always, thank you for being here. Sending lots of love!

xoxo NK❤️

[requiemforthepoets]

ain’t nothing like an asian wedding! ⟢ LN4

part two of the crazy rich asians au ⟢ part one part three

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!asian!reader

SUMMARY: you and lando just wanted to make the most of your singapore trip before heading off to the UK, but it seems like everything descended into series of unfortunate events. though maybe, this is also a way to get lando be acquainted with everyone that may or may not drive your whole family crazy and singapore’s social elites on a daily basis.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: non-use of y/n, reader is asian, foul language, traditional family, asian culture & tradition, food, google translated chinese, mentions of gutted fish, crazy rich asians inspired + plot, heiress reader, named characters (except reader, names are mostly taken from CRA), social status, high society, minor public indecency (not main characters), mentions of marriage & grandchild, mean/bully characters, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 18k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! i hope you are all having a very wonderful holidays! so i have decided to post the part 2 of ‘stickwitu’, ask and you shall receive! lolz but i love crazy rich asians so much and i just can’t let go of this kind of crossover (?). i had decided to chop off this one to three parts, with 20k max of word count since i wanna get it all out there. this one is open for taglist as well since there will be a part 3 of this, so just comment if you wanna be tagged hehe. your comments/reblogs are highly appreciated 🥺 hope you’ll enjoy this second part! <3

The early return was unplanned but felt necessary after everything that happened at Araminta’s bachelorette party. The atmosphere among the girls was tense, full of subtle jabs and veiled competition that you and Rachel simply were not in the mood to tolerate any longer.

On the second day, when you got the chance, over breakfast, you leaned over to Rachel and whispered your plan. She hesitated at first, unsure if Araminta would even believe it, but eventually nodded in agreement, trusting you to handle the situation.

You approached Araminta just before the midday activities, adopting a concerned tone as you told her that Rachel was not really feeling well. You explained how she had been feeling faint and a bit queasy since the night before but had been trying to push through. Araminta’s face immediately fell into worry, and she reached out to Rachel, who played her part perfectly, adding a weak smile and saying she just needed rest.

“I’m so sorry,” Rachel murmured, holding Araminta’s hand. “I really wanted to stay, but I think it’s better if I head back to the city.”

Araminta turned to you, her concern for Rachel deepened. “Do you need me to come with you? I don't want you both traveling alone if she’s not well.”

You shook your head, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Absolutely not. Minty, this is your bachelorette party, and you shouldn’t leave everyone behind. I’ll take care of everything. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

It took some convincing, but eventually, Araminta relented. She hugged you both tightly, telling Rachel to rest and recover, that she’ll be seeing you both on the wedding day. As you left the island, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the lie, but the overwhelming relief of leaving outweighed it.

The flight back to the city was quiet at first, the two of you decompressing from the tension of the past day. Rachel let out a laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe we pulled that off. I feel terrible lying to her, though.”

You sighed, leaning back into the plush seat. “I know. But honestly, that crowd was unbearable. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.”

“Thank you for getting me out of there. I owe you one.” Rachel smiled gratefully at you.

Once you landed, the two of you decided to make the most of the unexpected free day. You took her to some of your favorite spots in Singapore, then introduced her to local dishes and hidden gems around the city. From the bustling hawker centers to the serene gardens, you wanted her to see more than just the usual tourist spots.

“You weren’t kidding when you said Singapore is magical,” she said as she admired the view from Marina Bay Sands.

“It’s home,” you replied with a small smile. “And now you’ve seen a little piece of it.”

By the time you dropped her off at the hotel, it was late, the city lights twinkling against the dark sky. As you hugged her goodbye, Rachel whispered, “thanks again for today. I really needed this.”

“You’re very welcome, and hey, if anyone asks, you’re still recovering from that ‘terrible stomach bug.’”

Your family driver was already waiting as you stepped out of the hotel. You gave Rachel one last wave before sliding into the car, sinking into the leather seat as the city blurred past the window. The relief of being home and away from the chaos of the island was evident, and for the first time in days, you felt at ease.

The house was quiet as you stepped inside, but your mind was already racing with the thought of seeing Lando. The faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft creak of the floor beneath your feet were the only sounds accompanying you as you called out his name. No response.

You wandered from room to room, checking the living room, kitchen, even the study, but there was no sign of him. Then, as you approached the sliding glass doors leading to the patio, you saw him sitting there, phone in hand, smiling and laughing as he talked to someone on facetime.

Lando’s gaze shifted towards the door as you slid it open, and his face lit up when he saw you. He motioned for you to come over, his smile growing even more brighter. You made your way to him, the cool evening breeze brushing against your skin.

As you reached him, you wrapped an arm around his neck, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, and he returned the kiss, deeper and more deliberate. When you pulled away slightly, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with warmth and a hint of surprise.

“You’re back early,” he murmured softly, his thumb grazing your hip.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” you said, glancing toward the phone in his hand. It was that you noticed the familiar face on the screen, Max. “Hi, Max,” you greeted warmly.

“Hey, you,” Max replied with a grin, leaning closer to the camera. “Back already? Thought you were off on some wild bachelorette adventure?”

You laughed softly. “Something like that. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you guys. How have you been? And Pietra? I can’t wait to catch up when we're in the UK for Christmas.”

Max chuckled. “We’re good. Pietra’s already planning the whole holiday—dinner menus, decorations, everything. You’ll have to let her drag you into the chaos.”

Lando shifted slightly, pulling you down onto his lap, his hand resting on your waist as he held his phone with the other. You settled against him, his fingers idly tracing shapes on your side while you continued chatting with Max.

“She doesn’t have to drag me. I’m ready for it,” you replied, smiling. “Tell her to save me a spot in the kitchen, I’m good at taste-testing.”

“I’ll pass that on,” Max and Lando shared a laugh, but then Max’s expression softened. “Honestly though, it’s good seeing you hoth happy. Pietra and I were just talking about how happy you’ve made this muppet. But you know, we were skeptical at first.”

“Oh, I remember,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Something about expecting me to be snobby?”

Max laughed, holding both his hands up in defense. “Hey, it’s not everyday that someone from your background walks into our lives. But you proved us wrong pretty quickly. You’re as down-to-earth as they come, and more importantly, you make little Lando happy. That’s all we care about.”

Your gaze shifted to Lando, whose thumb was tracing idle patterns on your side, a content smile resting on his face. “Well, he makes me happy too,” you said softly.

Max smiled. “Good. That’s all that matters. Anyway, I’ll let you two catch up. Don’t keep him up too late.”

You laughed, nodding. “I’ll make sure he gets some sleep. See you soon, Max.”

“See you soon,” he replied, before ending the call.

As the screen went dark, Lando set his phone down and wrapped both arms around you, holding you close.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice low and earnest.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, leaning into him, the weight of the past few days melting away in his embrace.

The evening air was cool and crisp as you sat comfortably on Lando’s lap, the soft hum of distant city noise blending with the quiet rustle of leaves. His arm rested securely around your waist while his other hand lazily drummed against the armrest of the chair. He tilted his head slightly to look at you, his expression soft but curious.

“So,” he began, voice low and easy, “why are you back early? I thought you had a few more days of bachelorette shenanigans left.”

You let out a small sigh, glancing at the darkened sky before turning your gaze back to him. “It’s a long story,” you said, trying to suppress the frustration that the memory brought up.

Lando’s brows lifted slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We’ve got plenty of time and I’m not going anywhere,” he teased, tone light as he tightened his arm around you.

You laughed softly before settling deeper into his embrace. “Okay, so Rachel traveled with Minty and the other girls ahead of me to Samsara, right? I had to leave later because of a meeting, so I got there after everyone else.”

Lando nodded, his thumb tracing small circles on your side, silently encouraging you to continue.

“When I arrived at the villa,” you said, voice dropping slightly, “I saw Rachel speed-walking back from the spa. She was just wearing her robe, and she looked…off. Like she was about to cry, so I went to her and asked what happened, but she didn’t answer me right away. She just kept walking, looking like she wanted to disappear.”

His expression shifted to one of concern, his brows furrowing as he listened intently.

“I followed her back to the villa she was staying,” you continued, tone growing more serious. “And that’s when we saw a huge gutted fish on her bed, with pink lipstick scrawled across the glass window that said, catch this, you gold-digging bitch.”

Lando’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his jaw tensing. “What the hell?” he muttered, his voice edged with disbelief.

“I know,” you said, exhaling sharply at the memory. “I wanted to call security right then and there, but Rachel stopped me—she didn’t want to make a scene. She was so humiliated, Lan. You could see it all over her face.”

He shook his head, voice low. “That’s fucking awful. Who even does something like that?”

“Oh, I know exactly who’s capable of pulling this kind of stunt,” you said scoffing, tone sharp with certainty. “Francesca Shaw. That little bitch.”

“Who’s Francesca Shaw?” Lando asked in curiosity.

You tilted your head, letting out a dry laugh. “She’s Nadine Shaw’s daughter, one of Auntie Eleanor’s closest friends. Francesca used to be an heiress to the Shaw Foods fortune, but her grandfather cut her off completely from the will after waking up from coma. Guess grandpa Shaw didn’t like how little miss two-faced was spending the family money.”

His brows shot up in surprise. “So, she’s broke now?”

“Eh, pretty much,” you said. “And before you ask, yes, she’s also Nicky’s ex. They dated briefly years ago, but it didn’t go anywhere because Nicky didn’t like how her attitude began to change for the worse. Francesca clearly thought she still had shot, but when Rachel came into the picture, that dream was practically over. She’s been a bitter bitch ever since.”

Lando leaned back slightly, grip still firm on your waist. “So, she’s trying to ruin things for them all because of jealousy?”

“Not just jealousy,” you corrected. “Envy. She’s spent her whole life in circles like ours, and now that she’s lost her position, she’s desperate to claw her way back in. She probably sees Rachel as a threat, someone she thinks doesn’t belong.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “That’s pathetic. I can’t believe someone would go that far.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But Rachel didn’t want to make waves, especially not at Minty’s party. It wasn’t the time or place, and honestly, I just wanted to get her out of there. I wasn’t going to let Rachel stay there a second longer, so I told her to act like she was sick, and we left. The toxicity is just too much.”

Lando’s eyes scanned your face, then pressed a soft kiss to your temple, voice filled with reassurance. “You did the right thing. I’m glad that you were there for her.”

You gave him a small smile, “I just couldn’t stand by and let Francesca get to her. Rachel doesn’t deserve any of the shit they’re throwing to her at all.”

“Neither of you do,” Lando said firmly. “But I’m glad you’re back.”

You nodded, feeling the tension in your body ease slightly as you settled back into his embrace, the weight of the day beginning to dissipate.

The next day, you and Lando found yourselves back at your Ah Ma’s estate, where everyone was gathered in the big, spacious dining room that was only reserved for the family. The air was warm with the aroma of fresh dough and seasoned fillings, as half a dozen maids moved seamlessly, rolling small balls of dough into flat circles and forming minced meat into dozens of uniform, expertly shaped balls.

You were seated beside Nick, with Lando on your other side. While this was not Lando’s first time making dumplings, you often found yourself teaching him the technique whenever you were in Monaco. It had become a little tradition between the two of you as well, and you always made sure to leave him with a stack of freshly prepared dumplings to store in his freezer before you fly back to New York.

Lando had a knack for making dumplings by now, though you couldn’t always trust him with all the cooking in general, especially after the time you learned through Max’s stream that he had been running on no sleep for twenty-six hours, eaten out-of-date food, and spent his break before the Las Vegas GP playing call of duty. Dumplings, at least, were something he could handle—trusting not to burn his own kitchen down.

A maid carried a tray of the minced meat balls to the center of the room, where your mother and other family members—Nick, Rachel, Oliver, and your Aunties Alix and Eleanor, were all gathered around a large table. They worked busily, folding dumplings with swift, practiced hands and placing them neatly into stacked bamboo steamers.

This was a cherished family tradition, and your Aunties led the effort with the ease of many years of experience, their hands moving expertly while they kept up a lively flow of conversation. The hum of chatter filled the dining room, blending perfectly with the rhythmic movements of the dumpling-making process.

Your Auntie Eleanor carefully inspected the tray of folded dumplings and gave a satisfactory nod of approval, her sharp eye ensuring every piece was up to standard. Meanwhile, your mother glanced at the dozen trays already filled, her expression betraying a mix of alarm and disbelief.

“This is all too much,” your Auntie Alix remarked, shaking her head as she folded another dumpling with her precise fingers. “We’re only hosting a rehearsal dinner, not feeding an entire army.”

Your Auntie Eleanor countered almost immediately, her tone firm yet practical. “It is better that it’s too much than too little. Imagine people saying we’re stingy, that’s much worse.”

On the other side of the table, Nick was patiently teaching Rachel how to fold her first dumpling. He held the thin dumpling dough in his hand, placed a small ball of minced meat in the center, and carefully folded the edges, sealing it closed with practiced ease.

“It’s like tucking in a baby,” Nick explained, glancing at Rachel with a smile.

Rachel’s face lit up at the analogy. “That’s so cute,” she said, then added with mock horror, “and then you eat the baby.”

Her comment sent everyone into fits of laughter. Then Oliver, always quick to join in on the fun, leaned forward and added his own take on how to fold a dumpling.

“Grand Auntie Mabel taught me that folding dumplings is like getting botox,” he said, picking up dumpling dough. “The filling is the botox, and the wrapper is the face. You pinch it here and here, and voilà! You now have a flawless face.”

The whole table erupted with laughter again, and Rachel, shaking her head at the humor, asked, “did you all learn how to make dumplings when you were kids?”

You turned to her and nodded, folding another dumpling as you replied, “we didn’t exactly have a choice, it was mandatory.”

Then your mother chimed in from across the table, her voice carrying a mix of pride and amusement. “We taught all of you so that you’ll all understand the blood, sweat, and tears it took to raise and feed you monkeys.” she said, folding her dumpling expertly and placing it on the tray.

Your Auntie Alix nodded in agreement with your mother. “Not like the ang-mohs, microwaving everything for their children. No wonder, when their parents grow old, they send them to the old folks’ home.”

Lando turned to you, asking silently that only the two of you could hear, “babe, what’s ang-mohs?”

“Oh, it’s a colloquial expression used to refer to Caucasians or Westerners.” you replied as Lando nodded.

“Exactly. That’s what Ah Ma always says, if we don’t pass down traditions like this, they slowly disappear.” your Auntie Eleanor chimed in, tone firm.

You snickered, rolling your eyes playfully as you murmured loud enough with the intent for everyone to hear, “well, God forbid that we lose the ancient Chinese tradition of guilting your children.”

“Honestly, learning how to make these dumplings is totally worth it. I remember back when I was little, Mom used to wait for me after school with a basket of fresh dumplings.” Nick added, voice softened at the memory, and your Auntie Eleanor smiled, corners of her mouth tugging upward in quiet nostalgia.

“幸運嘅男孩!” (lucky boy!) your Auntie Alix said.

You turned to your mother and teased, “how come I never got after-school dumplings?”

Before your mother could muster out a reply, Oliver had beat her to it, smirking as he quipped, “well, probably because Auntie Elizabeth was busy having an after-school microdermabrasion.”

Your mother gasped, mock-scolding him in rapid Cantonese. “你真系个叻嘅屁股！ 如果你嘅祖父仲在生，佢會直接將你踢到下周.” (you’re such a smart-ass! if your grandfather were still alive, he’d kick you straight into next week) with a quick flick of her wrist, your mother threw a piece of dumpling dough at Oliver, which hit his shirt with a soft plop.

“Auntie!” Oliver looked down at the dough stuck to his chest, brushing it off with an exaggerated pout. “This is Dolce, you know.”

Laugher rippled through the room again, the air filled with warmth, teasing, and the familiar comfort of family banter.

Your Auntie Alix turned to Rachel, her expression curious yet kind. “Rachel, do you speak Cantonese?”

Rachel shook her head, smiling politely. “No, I don’t,” she admitted, then quickly added, “but it’s so great seeing your family bond like this.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Oliver, all of you caught slightly off guard by her statement, except Nick. It was not something you really thought about, it was just how things were.

Rachel seemed to sense everyone’s confusion and explained further, “growing up, it was just me and my Mom. We didn’t have a big family like yours, this is really special.”

“We’re glad that you appreciate it,” Oliver said softly. “You’re right, we’re lucky to have this.”

Your mother and Auntie Alix both smiled, their postures relaxing just a little. Your Auntie Alix even murmured, “it’s nice to hear someone appreciate it.”

Rachel, emboldened by the shift in mood, turned her attention to your Auntie Eleanor, who had been largely quiet, methodically folding dumplings with precision. Her gaze fell on the large emerald ring your Auntie Eleanor was wearing, glinting under the soft light as she carefully placed a dumpling into a bamboo steamer.

“That ring is very stunning, Auntie Eleanor,” Rachel said, voice genuinely admiring. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You paused mid-fold, glancing at Lando, who was already looking at you, his eyes widening slightly. The conversation from the other night before leaving for Samsara immediately surfaced in your mind.

Your mother and Auntie Alix both turned to look at your Auntie Eleanor, their expressions carefully neutral as they waited to see how she would respond. Your Auntie Eleanor looked genuinely surprised, her delicate hands momentarily pausing their rhythmic folding of dumplings.

“This ring,” she began, glancing at the emerald on her finger, “was made by my husband, Nick’s father, when he proposed to me.”

Rachel’s eyes lit up with interest. “That’s really amazing. Did he design it himself?”

She gave a small node, movements deliberate as she reshmed folding another dumpling. “He did. He wanted it to be one of a kind.”

“That’s incredible! Where did you two meet?” Rachel's eyes lit up with curiosity, leaning slightly forward.

Nick jumped in, tone light and proud. “They met at Cambridge, both are studying law.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I didn't know you were a lawyer.” she said, admiration apparent.

Your Auntie Eleanor resumed folding, her expression calm but firm. “I didn’t finish,” she clarified. “When we got married, I chose to withdraw from university.”

Rachel blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh,” she said softly. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry…”

Noticing the slight tension that was slowly forming, your Auntie Eleanor elaborated, voice steady as she carefully sealed another dumpling.

“I made that decision to help my husband run his business and to raise a family. To me, that was a privilege,” she glanced at Rachel, her gaze sharp yet polite. “But to some others, it might seem old-fashioned.”

Rachel hesitated, not really sure of how to respond, but before she could say anything, your Auntie Eleanor continued.

“It’s nice of you that you appreciate this,” she said, gesturing to the room that was filled with chattering and dumpling-making. “Everyone together, contributing, creating something. But I want you to fully understand that all of this doesn’t happen by accident or with the snap of a finger. It’s because we’ve always prioritized family above all else.”

Her voice took on a slightly sharper edge, though still calm. “Sometimes, that means letting go of personal ambitions for the greater good. It’s a lesson I learned early on and one I hope will never be forgotten.”

A very heavy awkward silence settled over the table. You felt Lando’s hand subtly intertwining your fingers under the table, as you glanced at Rachel. Her smile faltered slightly, and her posture stiffened as though she was not entirely sure how to respond.

Your mother and Auntie Alix remained silent, both just looking at their dumplings, minding their own business, their expressions natural but tense. You knew they were traditional in their own ways, yet far more accepting than your Auntie Eleanor. They were not going to intervene, but their discomfort was apparent.

Rachel finally nodded, voice quiet but steady. “I see. Thank you for sharing that, Auntie Eleanor,” she said, offering a faint smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Then, the dining room doors opened with a soft creak, and your Ah Ma entered with her Thai maids following closely behind, their presence as graceful and composed as always. She was wearing a beautiful silk blouse in shades of soft jade, with her posture upright and regal despite her old age. Your Ah Ma’s presence immediately shifted the atmosphere in the room, dissolving the lingering tension.

Everyone rose to their feet, a chorus of respectful greetings filling the space. You and Lando followed closely behind Nick and Rachel as you walked toward her, hand firmly clasping Lando’s.

Your Ah Ma’s face lit up when her gaze fell on Lando. “Ah, Lan Lan!” she exclaimed, voice warm and filled with genuine affection. “I’m happy to see you again. Tell me, has your dumpling folding improved since the last time?”

Lando smiled, bowing his head slightly in respect. “I think so, Ah Ma,” he replied, voice steady but tinged with amusement. “But you’ll have to judge for yourself.”

Nick stepped forward, taking your Ah Ma’s arm gently, and you mirrored his action on her other side. Her smile widened as she turned to Nick, patting his hand affectionately. “我很高興你帶瑞秋來了.” (i’m so glad you brought rachel) she said, voice kind but observant.

Your Ah Ma’s sharp eyes landed on Rachel, who stood politely beside Nick. She scrutinized her face for a moment, her expression contemplative before breaking into a small smile. “在白天，我���以清楚地看到她。 非常漂亮的臉蛋.” (ah, in the daylight, i can see her clearly. very nice-looking face)

Rachel’s lips parted slightly, unsure how to react, but she eventually nodded and smiled, choosing to take it as a compliment. “謝謝阿媽.” (thank you, ah ma) she said, in a respectful tone.

With Nick and you guiding her, your Ah Ma walked toward her seat at the head of the table. When you reached the chair, Lando quickly stepped forward, pulling it out for her with fluid motion. Your Ah Ma gave Lando an approving nod before settling into the seat, her movements deliberate but elegant.

Once your Ah Ma was seated, she gestured with a delicate wave of her hand. “坐下，你們所有人.” (sit down, all of you) she instructed, tone commanding but not harsh.

Oliver leaned back slightly and chimed in, tone light and teasing. “We’re almost finished, Ah Ma. Just a few more baskets left.”

“Good, good,” she said, a trace of satisfaction in her voice.

While your Ah Ma was observing everyone, her gaze swept over the trays of folded dumplings, her discerning eyes pausing on a particular set of dumplings that stood out. Without any hesitation, she gestured toward the batch and turned to your Auntie Eleanor.

“埃莉諾，你做了這個批次嗎?” (eleanor, did you make this batch?) her tone was sharp, but not unkind.

You Auntie Eleanor straightened slightly, nodding with a subtle air of pride. “是的，阿媽,” (yes, ah ma) she replied, voice composed but tinged with a hint of accomplishment.

Your Ah Ma’s eyes narrowed slightly as she leaned in for a closer look, inspecting the dumplings with the same scrutiny she might give to a priceless piece of jade. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, and she tilted her head, her words carrying a weight of blunt honesty.

”他們看起來不太好,” (they don’t look very good) she remarked, tone in a matter-of-fact but leaving little room for dispute. “你失去了你的觸摸,埃莉諾.” (you’ve lost your touch, eleanor)

The room seemed to pause momentarily, the faintest ripple of tension spreading across the table. You glanced at Rachel, who sat stiffly, her expression carefully neutral, clearly unsure how to react to the sudden critique.

You turned to Lando, who had been watching the exchange with curiosity, leaning slightly toward you as he whispered, “what did Ah Ma say?”

Lowering your voice, you translated quickly but gently, “Ah Ma said the dumplings don’t look good, and that Auntie Eleanor has lost her touch.”

Lando made a face, and though he made no comment, the slight twitch of his lips suggested he was trying not to laugh. You gave him a soft nudge under the table, silently reminding him to keep a straight face.

Even with your Ah Ma’s comment, your Auntie Eleanor maintained her composure, her lips tightening as she focused on folding another dumpling, pretending as though the comment did not bother her at all. But still, you knew that everyone at the table heard everything, and no one was really surprised by your Ah Ma’s brutal honesty.

As the final dumplings were folded and placed neatly into the bamboo steamers, Rachel excused herself, standing from her seat with a polite smile. “I’m just going to the restroom,” she said softly, tone light.

Nick immediately offered, “I'll come with you.”

Rachel just shook her head gently, declining with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, I can find my way.”

With that, she turned and walked off, navigating through the hallways of the estate, leaving the rest of you to finish arranging the trays.

Meanwhile, your Ah Ma’s sharp eyes scanned the remaining dumplings, her attention landing on the ones Lando had folded. Despite her age, her vision remained sharp as ever, and she leaned forward slightly, inspecting his work. A small but genuine smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“這些很漂亮,” (these are beautiful) she said, nodding approvingly.

Lando lit up at the compliment—well, he didn’t really understand what your Ah Ma had said, but based on her reaction, it’s a positive one. His cheeks colored faintly as he looked at you for a moment, seeking your silent confirmation that he had done well.

Your Ah Ma then turned to you, tone warm but firm as she continued, “你教他很好,我的孫女。 我可以看到他爲此付出的努力。 你跟他幹得真不錯.” (you’ve taught him well, my granddaughter. I can see the effort he’s put into these. you really did a good job with him)

You smiled, bowing your head slightly in acknowledgment of her praise, but before you could respond, her attention shifted back to Lando. Your Ah Ma’s expression softened, yet her words carried a note of earnestness.

“Lan Lan,” she began, “好好照顧自己，好好吃飯,” (take care of yourself, eat properly) she spoke slowly enough that he could understand the weight of her words even if he did not catch every meaning of it.

Your Ah Ma paused, gaze flicking back to you for a moment, before continuing. “I remember when my granddaughter came back here to Singapore after being in Monaco. She was so worried about you.”

Then she turned again to Lando, tone shifting slightly to a mock-scolding one, though her affection for him was evident. “She told me how you hadn’t slept for twenty-six hours and were eating expired food. How can you not take care of yourself?”

Lando ducked his head slightly, his smile sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping into his cheeks.

Switching to Mandarin, she fired rapidly at Lando, though there was no malice in her tone. “你認爲僅僅因爲你年輕，你的身體會原諒一切嗎？ 不會的 你很幸運，我的孫女飛到摩納哥爲你做飯.” (you think just because you’re young, your body will forgive everything? it won’t. you’re lucky my granddaughter flew to to monaco to cook for you)

You were trying not to laugh as you translated everything your Ah Ma said to him, and Lando nodded earnestly, voice quiet but sincere. “I know, Ah Ma. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Your Ah Ma turned to you with a knowing smile. “我什麼時候能指望你結婚?” (when can i expect you to get married?)

You froze on your seat, eyes widening in disbelief as he words hung in the air. You felt Lando’s hand tense slightly in yours under the table, though you were sure he hadn’t understood any of it.

“我想在我死之前見到我的曾孫們。 我已經沒有多少年時間了.” (i want to see my great-grandchildren before i die. i don’t have that many years left) your Ah Ma continued.

The room erupted into laughter at your Ah Ma’s bluntness, a mix of amused chuckles and good-natured teasing. Even your mother, who rarely join on such jokes, could not help but wink at you across the table.

“Ah Ma,” you began, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words to appease her. “蘭多和我還年輕。 他有一個非常忙碌的職業生涯，我們現在都專注於我們的目標.” (lando and i are still young. he has a very busy career, and we’re both focused on our goals right now)

“太年輕了？ 胡說八道！ 你們兩個都老了，有什麼目標？ 家庭是人生最重要的目標,” (too young? nonsense! you’re both old enough, and what goals? a family is the most important goal in life) she retorted, waving her hand in the air as if brushing aside your excuses.

She leaned slightly forward, her gaze fixed on Lando now, as if silently willing him to understand what she was saying. “我走之前要抱着我的曾孫,” (i need to hold my great-grandchild before i go) she reiterated, as though her insistence alone could make it happen.

Lando, who had been smiling politely, began to glance around the table, sensing that the laughter was at his expense but unable to piece together what was being said.

“What’s going on? What did Ah Ma say?” he said, leaning towards you.

Before you could think of a way to downplay it, Nick—ever the troublemaker, grinned wickedly and leaned over. “Oh, I’ll tell you,” he said, just loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Ah Ma’s asking when you’re getting married. She wants great-grandchildren before she dies.”

His jaw dropped slightly at what Nick said, cheeks already tinged pink. “What?” Lando stammered, glancing at you for confrontation.

The laughter just grew louder as Nick continued, “she’s serious too. She’s already planning your family timeline.”

You groaned inwardly, shooting Nick a sharp look that only made him smirk wider. Meanwhile, Lando’s blush deepend, spreading across his ear and down to his neck. Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, and lips twitching into an embarrassed smile.

“I…uh…” he stuttered, clearly flustered, and you couldn’t help but smile despite the situation.

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, leaning closer to whisper, “don’t worry, she just likes to tease. You’re doing great.”

Your Ah Ma smiled warmly at Lando, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepening with the kind of affection reserved for those who had truly earned it. She placed her hands gently on the edge of the table, her gaze shifting between you and him as she began to speak again in Mandarin.

“我愛你這個年輕人,” (i love this young man for you) she said, tone resolute yet tender. “我等不及你們倆結婚的那一天了。 當然，這必須在我死之前發生，但沒有壓力.” (i cannot wait for the day you both get married. of course, this must happen before i die, but no pressure)

The table chuckled softly at her words, though you could feel the weight of her underlying sincerity.

“我希望你們的關係最終會導致婚姻。 它必須，我很高興是他。 我認識你以前約會過的所有男孩，但沒有你介紹他們給我,” (i expect your relationship will lead to marriage in the end. it must, and I’m glad it’s him. i knew all the boys you dated before without you introducing them to me) she continued, tone sharpening lightly as she referred to your past. “他們都不值得。 蘭多是。 他是個好人，是個紳士。 我看得出他讓你多麼高興.” (none of them were worthy. but lando is. he is a good man and a gentleman. i can see how happy he makes you)

Her gaze lingered on Lando, eyes bright with approval. “你選的不錯,” (you chose well) she said firmly, her words almost carrying the weight of a blessing.

You glanced at your mother, who was watching the exchange quietly with a soft smile. When your eyes met, she gave you a small nod, as if to echo your Ah Ma’s sentiments. Your heart swelled, knowing that this was not just about Lando being accepted by your family, it was about him being fully embraced in a way that rarely happened in a family as traditional as yours.

“我們的家庭一直重視傳統的重要性，在我們自己的背景，我們自己的文化中結婚。 這就是讓我們堅強的原因。 但有時，當心髒看到什麼是正確的時，必須做出例外.” (our family has always valued the importance of tradition, of marrying within our own background, our own culture. it is what keeps us strong. but sometimes, exceptions must be made when the heart sees what is right) your Ah Ma’s eyes softened further as she looked at you. “你已經看到了什麼是正確的。 我相信你的選擇。 他會給你帶來快樂，你也會給他帶來同樣的快樂.” (and you have seen what’s right. i trust your choice. he will bring you happiness, and you will bring him the same)

Lando, though unable to follow the Mandarin, seemed to understand the atmosphere and the sentiment. He offered a polite smile, his hand tightening slightly around yours under the table.

“你知道，你是第一個正式向我介紹這樣一個人的���。 這不是一件小事。 它表明了對我們家庭的尊重，它表明你是認真的.” (you know, you are the first to formally introduce someone to me like this. it is no small thing. it shows respect for our family, and it shows me that you are serious) she paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “這就是爲什麼我相信這將工作。 你有我的祝福.” (that is why I trust this will work. you have my blessing)

You felt a lump in your throat as you glanced again at your mother, who was still smiling softly. There was no need for words, her expression said it all. The weight of family approval—especially your Ah Ma’s, was very significant. It was not just about you and Lando anymore, it was about the life you were building together, one that your family wholeheartedly supported.

You turned to Lando and gave him a small smile, and squeezed his hand, a private gesture of reassurance for him. Though he could not understand the exact words, you knew he felt the love and acceptance in the room, just as deeply as you did.

While everyone was now immersed in a new topic of conversation, you can’t help but notice that Rachel was taking longer than usual. Rachel hasn’t gone back yet, the same as your Auntie Eleanor. Just before your Ah Ma would say his monologue about family tradition, your Auntie Eleanor had excused herself.

You glanced at the door Rachel and your Auntie Eleanor had exited through earlier, your eyes narrowed slightly in concern. This was a sprawling estate, one where getting turned around was almost inevitable for someone unfamiliar with its labyrinth of hallways and grand rooms. You couldn’t shake the sense that something was amiss.

Minutes passed. Neither Rachel nor your Auntie Eleanor had returned. Your unease deepened. So you leaned slightly toward Lando, your voice low enough not to disrupt the ongoing chatter around the table.

“I think I’ll go check on Rachel,” you murmured. “She’s taking a little too long, and Auntie Eleanor too.”

Lando nodded, his eyes flickering with slight concern. “You think everything’s okay?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” you replied. “But I’ll find out.”

You leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, the faintest smile touching your lips despite the worry now bubbling beneath the surface. Straightening up, you excused yourself from the table, smoothing down your dress with a quick, practiced motion.

As you step away, the chatter behind you fades, replaced by the muted hum of distant sounds in the house, the faint clatter of dishes being cleared in the kitchen, soft shuffle of footsteps from maids moving about their duties.

You moved quietly, your steps deliberate as you followed the path Rachel had taken earlier. You knew this house like the back of your hand, each twist and turn etched into your memory, but even for you, it was easy to imagine how someone so unfamiliar might lose their way.

Your eyes scanned the hallways as you moved, the ornate decorations and rich furnishings familiar yet suddenly feeling imposing in the quiet. You still could not shake the thought that perhaps your Auntie Eleanor had cornered Rachel somewhere in the house, and the idea made your pace quicken.

The moment you approached the grand staircase, you approached quietly, you heard voices and stopped just short of the landing, hiding yourself out of sight behind the very heavy drapery of a nearby window. You knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on other people, but your concern for Rachel overpowered the voice of reason.

Peeking through the fabric, you saw them. Your Auntie Eleanor stood on the top step of the staircase, her posture sharp and commanding, while Rachel stood two steps below her, visibly uneasy. The height difference only seemed to amplify the imbalance in their dynamic—your Auntie Eleanor looking every bit like a hawk, and Rachel was the unwitting prey.

“I’m glad I found you,” your Auntie Eleanor began, voice low and calm, but laced with a kind of weight that felt impossible to ignore. “I felt…perhaps I was unfair to you earlier.”

Rachel immediately shook her head, her voice soft but apologetic. “No, no, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I’m really sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t offend me, Rachel,” she said quietly, almost too quietly, as though she were weighing each word before releasing it. “But since we’re already here, I feel it’s only fair to share something with you. Something that I don’t often talk about.”

“Alright,” Rachel said, voice barely above whisper.

“The emerald ring,” she began, lifting her hand slightly to glance at the emerald on her finger, “had been customized by my husband, Philip, because Ah Ma didn’t want to give him the family ring.”

“She…refused?” Rachel was clearly surprised.

Your Auntie Eleanor gave a small, humorless smile, the corner of her lips barely turning upward. “She didn’t think I was worthy of it. Didn’t think I was worthy of Philip.”

At that, you felt your breath catch. This was new information, something you had never heard before. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the two of them, even as guilt tugged at you for listening in.

“Why would she think that?” Rachel’s voice was cautious, tentative.

Your Auntie Eleanor’s expression hardened, though her voice remained calm. “Because I didn’t come from the right family. I didn’t have the proper connections, and I was not what Ah Ma envisioned for his eldest son. To her, I was inadequate. Not a suitable wife for the future head of the family.”

Rachel looked stunned, her hands fidgeting slightly at her sides. “I…I didn’t know.”

“No, of course, you wouldn’t,” she said softly. “It’s not the kind of thing people would discuss so openly, and why would they? It’s already humiliating to admit that you weren’t the first choice.”

Rachel’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out of her mouth.

“I wasn’t even the second choice. You’re Ah Ma wanted someone else entirely, someone from a family with status and wealth that matched ours. But Philip, he chose me.”

From your hiding spot, you could see the faint sheer in your Auntie Eleanor’s eyes, though her expression remained resolute. You felt your stomach tighten. This was far more personal than the surface-level gossip you and your mother often indulge in about your Auntie Eleanor.

Rachel seemed to struggle to find the right response. “I think that’s very brave of you, to have gone through that.”

“Brave?” she echoed, almost as though testing the word on her tongue. “Perhaps, or perhaps I simply had no choice but to endure it. That’s what women like me are expected to do. Endure. Sometimes, there were days when I wondered if I would ever measure up.”

Another pause filled the air, heavy and suffocating. You glanced back toward the hallway that leads to the dining room, where laughter and conversation continued, oblivious to the tension unfolding right outside.

Your Auntie Eleanor looked down at Rachel, her tone softening just slightly. “I don’t say this to make you uncomfortable, Rachel. I say it because you remind me of someone I once was, a young woman trying to find her place in a family with traditions that can feel suffocating at times. But here’s the thing.”

“To belong here,” your Auntie Eleanor said quietly, “you must learn when to bend and when to stand firm, and above all, you must understand that family will always come first before passion, before dreams. It’s not easy, but it’s the way it is.”

Her words lingered in the air, cutting deeper than anything you had expected. You tightened your grip on the drapery, heart thudding in your chest.

“But Rachel,” she said softly, almost gently, as she took a slow step closer to her. “Having been through it all myself, I can tell you this much…you will never be enough.”

The words hung in the air, deceptively gently, yet sharp enough to pierce. Rachel was eviscerated, as your Auntie Eleanor draws back, placid and calm, as if they were talking about the weather. Her hand lightly touched Rachel’s arm, almost a contradictory gesture to the blow she had just delivered.

“We should head back, I wouldn’t want Nick to worry.” your Auntie Eleanor’s tone did not falter, nor did her gaze waver. She slowly began descending the stairs.

You’re still hidden—more like frozen in place. You watched as Rachel’s expression crumbled ever so slightly, her face a mixture of hurt and confusion, though she tried valiantly to hold her composure. You felt a pang in your chest for her, but before you could decide whether to step out, you felt a presence approaching from behind.

You turned your head quickly, startled to see Lando walking towards you. His lips were already parting, likely to ask what you were doing or what was taking you so long, but you reacted instinctively. You brought a finger to your lips in a sharp shushing motion, then darted towards him as quietly as possible, pressing a hand gently over his mouth before he could make a sound.

Lando’s brows furrowed in confusion, but he obeyed your silent command, his wide eyes flickering between you and the staircase. You both froze as the unmistakable sound of your Auntie Eleanor’s heels began clicking rhythmically against the marble floor, growing louder with each step.

Peeking back around the corner just enough, your Auntie Eleanor was already headed your way, her expression calm and composed, never even looking back at Rachel, who remained standing frozen in place.

Without any second thought, you grabbed Lando’s hand firmly and began pulling him back down the hall, away from the grand staircase. His confusion deepened, but he did not resist, allowing you to guide him. You stopped just short of the door, turning to face him, you placed a hand on his chest and pressed a little to keep him from moving any further. Lando tilted his head slightly, silently asking for an explanation, but you shook your head.

“I’ll tell you everything later,” you whispered firmly, voice barely audible. “When we’re home.”

Lando frowned slightly but nodded in understanding, his gaze softening as he squeezed your hand gently. You exhaled, releasing the tension in your shoulders, and took a moment to steady yourself. Lacing your fingers together, you took one more deep breath, and walked back into the dining room with Lando by your side.

You plastered on a casual smile, even as your thoughts raced, determined to keep up the act for now.

Later that evening, you were now back to the safety and comfort of your home. You and Lando were now settled into the bed, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. Lando was lying on his back, one arm tucked under his head, while his other arm rested lightly on your arm. The dim glow from the bedside lamp cast gentle shadows across his face as you propped yourself up on your elbow, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Okay, here’s the tea,” you began softly, keeping your voice low in the stillness of the room.

Lando turned his head to look at you, his brows knitting slightly. “What’s the tea?”

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts, before recounting everything you had overheard between Rachel and your Auntie Eleanor by the grand staircase. You spoke carefully, detailing the conversation, voice growing more serious as you described your Auntie Eleanor’s sharp words, her admission about the family ring, and the way she had undermined Rachel. Lando listened intently, his gaze never leaving yours, expression shifting from concern to quiet disbelief as you continued.

“And then,” you said, voice dropping even lower, “she told Rachel she would never be enough. I just couldn’t believe it, honestly. It was so cruel.”

“That’s awful,” he said firmly. “I can’t imagine how Rachel must’ve felt when she heard that. She must’ve been gutted—no pun intended.”

You chuckled, then suddenly feeling the weight of the moment settle between you. “I wanted to step in, but I didn’t know how without actually making it worse. Then I saw you coming,” you paused, sighing. “I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Lando reached out, taking your hands in his, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “It’s not your fault,” he said reassuringly. “Your Auntie Eleanor has her own set of issues. But Rachel seems strong, I’m sure she’ll handle it.”

You nodded, though the worry lingered in your chest. “I just hope my whole family can be as welcoming to Rachel as they’ve been to you. She deserves that. Nick deserves that.”

“Your family has been incredible to me,” he said. “Your Ah Ma, your Mom, even your Auntie Alix, they’ve all made me feel like I belong, even though I’m not from the same background—traditionally, as you. That means everything to me. It’s rare to find that kind of acceptance.”

You felt your chest warm at his words. “I’m so happy they’ve accepted you,” you murmured. “It makes me love them even more, knowing they see how amazing you are.”

He chuckled lightly, ears turning red at your compliment. “Well,” Lando said, tone turning playful, “Ah Ma did say she expects a grandchild, so I guess I’m officially part of the family now.”

You laughed softly, then tension from the earlier conversation easing slightly. But as you rested your head against his chest, you whispered, “I just hope Rachel gets that chance too. To feel what we have with my family.”

Lando pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his voice gentle as he said, “she will, it might take time, but your family loves deeply. They’ll come around, and if not, well, Nick and Rachel would always have us. That’s a pretty good start, don’t you think?”

You nodded. “But hey,”

“Hmm?” he hummed, looking at the ceiling aimlessly.

“I was thinking,” you started, “tomorrow’s our last free day before Colin and Araminta’s wedding. I was wondering if it’s okay with you if I spend it with Rachel. I feel like she could use some company, and I’d love to catch up with her one-on-one.”

Lando’s lips curved into a small smile as he nodded. “Of course, love. You don’t need to ask, and I think that’s a great idea.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed. “I don’t want to leave you feeling bored or anything.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, take your time. I can keep myself busy.”

At that, you looked at him with curiosity. “Oh? What’s your plan for the day?”

Lando grinned, “actually, I was thinking of hitting up your Dad for a few rounds of golf. He told me during Ah Ma’s dinner party to let him know anytime I wanted to play, so I figured I’d take him up on that offer.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the thought of Lando and your father on the golf course together. “That sounds perfect. I think he’d love that.”

“It’ll be nice to spend some time with him, and,” he added with a playful grin, “it’ll give me a chance to show him I’ve been practicing my swing.”

You chuckled, “well, don’t let him win too easily, or else he’ll never let you live it down.”

Lando laughed along with you, then leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Go spend the day with Rachel,” he said warmly. “I’ll be fine, and later, you can tell me all about it over dinner.”

“Deal,” you said with a grin.

The warm scent of roasted coffee filled the air as you and Rachel sat across from each other at the small patio table. The sunlight filtered gently through the canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the table between your cups of coffee. Rachel stirred her latte absentmindedly, her eyes occasionally drifting to the street beyond before meeting yours.

“I’m really glad you agreed to meet with me,” you began, voice steady but soft.

Rachel offered a small smile, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Of course. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk after everything.”

You took a deep breath, setting your coffee cup down carefully. “I wanted to talk because I owe you an apology. For everything.”

She tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing. But she let you continue speaking.

“I’m sorry for how you were treated at the dinner party by my family,” you continued, gazing at her earnestly. “Especially by my Auntie Eleanor. I know she was cruel, and I won’t make any excuses for her just because she’s family. You didn’t deserve that.”

Rachel let out a shaky breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she leaned back in her chair. “Thank you for saying that, it truly means a lot.”

There was a brief pause before you added, “and I need to come clean about something.”

“I overheard everything Auntie Eleanor said to you by the staircase,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands for a moment before looking back at her. “It wasn’t my intention to eavesdrop, I swear. I was going to get something from the car, and I happened to pass by.”

She studied you for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. “Honestly, I’m not even surprised you overheard. She wasn’t exactly trying to whisper.”

You gave a small, rueful smile. “Still, I should have stepped in sooner. I hate that she made you feel the way you did.”

Rachel’s grip on her coffee cup tightened briefly before she let out a small, humorless laugh. “It was pretty intense, I’ve got to say,” she admitted. “I mean, I felt like I was going to cry and puke all at once.”

The two of you exchange a glance before breaking into laughter. The sound was a relief, breaking the lingering tension like the first warm breeze after a storm.

“Well,” you said. “I bet if you tell her that you’d leave Nick for a million of dollars, she’d write that check on the spot.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before she burst into laughter again, this time louder and freer. “You think so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, grinning. “It’s a pretty normal thing to do here. A million-dollar breakup is just another Tuesday.”

Rachel shook her head, still laughing, and took a sip of her latte. “That’s terrible.”

“Maybe it is,” you smiled and shrugged. “But I know my Auntie Eleanor.”

She then set her coffee cup down, fingers fiddling with the edge of her napkin as her expression shifted something akin to serious.

“You know, I just…I don’t even know what to do anymore. Whether I will tell Nick everything or not,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “I can see how much Nick practically worships his Mom. I mean, it’s like she can do no wrong in his eyes.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing her words. “I fully understand that,” you said carefully, tone gently. “It’s common, especially with Chinese sons. They hold their mothers on a very high pedestal, and it’s not just cultural, it’s ingrained, passed down through generations. Mothers are revered, respected almost to a fault.”

Rachel let out a small, defeated sigh, leaning back in her chair. “So what am I supposed to do? Compete with that?”

You shook your head, giving her a smile. “No, you don’t need to compete with anyone. Look, on the bright side of all things, Ah Ma loves you. Did you notice how she complimented you yesterday? That’s pretty big.”

Her brow furrowed slightly as she thought back, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “She did, didn’t she? I was not really sure what to make of it at first, but I guess that was her way of showing approval.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Let Auntie Eleanor stew in her own bitterness if she wants to. She can hate you all day long or even her whole life if that’s what she’s determined to do.”

“That’s…comforting?” she raised an eyebrow, her smile wavering.

“Just let Auntie Eleanor be, she has nothing against two thousand years of Chinese filial piety.” you chuckled.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked, intrigued but unsure.

You gestured gently with your hand, voice steady but light. “At the end of the day, it’s not really about Auntie Eleanor. It’s about what Ah Ma thinks, and in this family, her opinion carries the most weight, and she’s already decided that she likes you. Auntie Eleanor might throw tantrums and make her snide comments, but she can’t overturn the foundation of how this family works. What Ah Ma says, goes.”

Rachel sat back, her lips curving into a small, thoughtful smile. “So, you’re saying that I don’t need to fight back? Just let her do her thing?”

You nodded. “Exactly. She’s not the one you’re trying to win over, and frankly, she doesn’t hold the power she thinks she does. As long as Ah Ma’s around and on your side, you’re practically untouchable.”

“You make it sound so simple.” she let out a soft laugh, her tension finally easing.

“It’s not simple,” you admitted with a small shrug, “but it’s the truth. You’re a part of this family now, Rachel—whether they like it or not, and you’ve already got the most important ally you could ask for.”

Rachel’s smile grew warmer, and for the first time, she looked truly at ease. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I needed to hear that.”

The midday sun cast long shadows over the manicured fairways of Sentosa Golf Club. Lando steadied his swing, aiming for the flag ahead. Your father stood a few paces behind, watching his stance with an appraising eye. The gentle rustling of the trees and occasional chirping of birds provided the only background noise. Lando took the shot—clean, low drive that rolled smoothly onto the green.

“Good shot,” your father remarked, nodding in approval as they walked toward the cart together.

“Thank you,” Lando replied, brushing his hands against his shorts.

As they drove to the next hole, your father leaned back slightly, gaze fixed ahead. “So, Lando,” your father began, his tone casual. “What are your plans?”

Lando glanced at him, slightly startled by the abruptness of the question. “Plans, sir? You mean with golf? Or…generally?”

Your father chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No, no. Not with golf, I meant your plans for the future. It’s a broad question, I know, but I’m curious.”

He straightened. “Oh, well…I’m focused on my career right now, of course. Racing tends to keep me pretty busy, but I try to balance things as best as I can.”

Your father nodded as they both stepped out of the cart. He let a few moments pass before continuing, voice taking on a more serious tone. “When my wife came back from her mother’s estate last night, she mentioned something to me over dinner.”

Lando tilted his head, curious. “What is it?”

“She said that Ah Ma gave you and my daughter her approval,” your father said, eyes steady on Lando. “Ah Ma hopes your relationship will end in marriage someday.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the statement, or just how straightforward your father is. He shifted his weight slightly, unsure of how to respond to your father.

Your father, noticing his hesitation, offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Lando. I’m not here to pressure or scare you away. But I thought it might be important for you to understand something about how everything goes on around here.”

“In our culture,” your father explained as he placed the golf ball on the tee, “relationships are viewed differently than in the West. They’re not just about love or companionship, they’re built on sacrifice, duty, and responsibility. When you commit to someone, you’re committing to the entirety of it all—even to the family. It’s a partnership that demands effort and selflessness.”

“Now,” your father took his shot—a smooth, powerful drive that sent the ball soaring down the fairway. He straightened and turned back to Lando, resting the driver on his shoulder. “I’m not saying this to intimidate you. It’s far from it. I know how much my daughter cares for you, and from what I’ve seen, you care for her just as much. But I want to make sure you understand what this means to us—our family and her. It’s not just about dating or having fun. It’s about building a life together.”

Lando swallowed, feeling the weight of your father’s words. “I…I get that, sir. I really do, and I want you to know that I take our relationship seriously. She’s,” he paused, searching for the right words. “She’s the most important person in my life. I may not have everything figured out yet, but I’m fully committed to her. I want to make her happy and support her in every way I can.”

Your father studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “That’s good to hear, Lando. You’re a good man, and that’s all I needed to know.”

Lando exhaled softly, relieved but still thoughtful. Your father clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s see if you can make this shot. I’m one up on you, and I don’t plan on losing today.”

”We’ll see about that, sir.” Lando grinned.

The two of them had just finished their round and were sitting in the shaded patio area of the clubhouse, sipping on cold drinks. Your father leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed.

“You know, back in her teens, she was quite the handful.” your father began, voice carrying an edge of humor.

Lando turned to him, intrigued but slightly nervous. “Oh?”

Your father nodded, a sly smile on his face. “She used to escape the house and date boys behind our backs. Thought she was clever about it too.”

Lando’s lips twitched into a smile, imagining you as a teenager, trying to outsmart your parents. “Really? I can’t imagine her sneaking around like that.”

“Oh, she was good,” your father said, in a playful tone. “She never introduced us to those boys, but we always knew who they were. We made it our business to know. Still, we never made a fuss, we figured she’d grow out of it—and she did.”

He just smiles as your father tells these little snippets of anecdotes of your life that you had never told Lando before. Lando just kept silent, and continued listening to your father.

“So when she introduced you to us, we were shocked to be honest.” your father laughed, a deeper, more genuine sound. “It was the first time she brought someone home. That was our first indication that this was serious, different from anything she’d had before.”

“To tell you the truth,” your father continued, tone shifting to something more reflective. “We always thought she’d end up seriously dating one of the sons from our family’s business partners, since that’s how these things tend to go. But looking at it now, we’re thankful that it’s you.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard. “Thankful? Why’s that?”

Your father leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “Because those boys, they have big, fragile egos. Pampered from birth, they’ve never had to work for anything, and never had to learn humility. Trust me, there’s nothing worse than a man who can’t admit his faults.” he looked at Lando meaningfully. “You’re nothing like that, you’ve worked hard for everything you’ve achieved. You respect her, and that means a lot to us.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lando replied as he felt a warmth spread through his chest. “That really means a lot to me.”

Your father nodded, a small but approving smile on his face. “Just don’t let her outplay you on the course of life, Lando. She might be silent and reserved most of the time, but she’s competitive.”

Lando laughed. “Oh, I know. She’s already winning in a lot of ways.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” your father regarded him for a moment, then smiled. “Now, shall we see if they have any dessert worth trying here? Golf always leaves me craving something sweet.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.” Lando chuckled.

The house was still dark when you arrived, a quiet stillness greeting you as you set your things down and flicked on the lights. After slipping into more comfortable clothes—a loose white shirt and soft shorts, you made your way to the kitchen.

You had informed Lando earlier that you had decided it would be steak night, so you tied your back and opened the fridge, pulling out the steak to defrost, then setting them on the counter before gathering ingredients for the side dishes. You peeled and chopped the potatoes, boiling them in a pot of salted water, and then turned your attention to the vegetables.

Then you sliced the carrots, zucchini, and bell peppers—the rhythm of chopping and preparing was soothing, you then drizzled them with olive oil, sprinkled them with salt and pepper, then slid the tray into the oven to roast.

By the time the vegetables were roasting and the potatoes were soft, the steaks were now finally defrosted. You began to season them generously with salt, pepper, and a hint of garlic powder, then heated a cast-iron skillet until it was searing hot. The steaks sizzled as they hit the pan, filling the kitchen with the rich aroma of cooking meat.

While the steaks rested, you drained the potatoes and mashed them with butter, cream, and a touch of garlic. The creamy texture was perfect, and you set the pot aside before arranging everything on the plate.

Tonight, you wanted to dine outside by the pool deck, where the view of the city lights was nothing short of magical. Grabbing a couple stacks of plates and utensils, you stepped out to the deck and set the table. The air was cool, and the glow from the pool lights danced against the walls, creating a cozy ambiance.

Just as you returned to the kitchen to plate the food, you felt an arm wrapped around your waist and a soft kiss pressed to your cheek. Startled, you spun around to see Lando smiling down at you, hair slightly mussed from the day.

“You scared me!” you said with a laugh, leaning up to kiss him on the lips.

“Sorry,” he murmured, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “It smells amazing in here.”

“So, how was your day with Dad?” you asked smiling, brushing a hand over his arm.

“It was good,” he replied. “Tiring, but good. I think I held my own.”

You smiled at that and patted his chest gently. “Go change into something comfortable and grab a bottle of wine from the rack, we’re eating outside by the pool deck.”

“On it,” Lando said with a quick kiss to your temple before heading off to the bedroom.

You carried the plated food out to the pool deck, setting it down on the table. The city lights twinkled in the distance as you adjusted the chairs and smoothed the tablecloth. Lando soon joined you, a bottle of red wine in hand, dressed in a simple shirt and joggers.

“That looks incredible, love.” he said as he set the wine down and pulled out a chair for you.

“Why thank you,” you smiled, settling in on the chair. “Let’s eat.”

As the two of you began eating, the sound of clinking utensils and the occasional splash of water from the pool filled the serene evening air. You cut into your steak and took a bite before glancing at Lando, who was pouring wine into both of your glasses.

“So, as promised,” you began, setting your form down for a moment. “I wanted to tell you about the conversation that I had with Rachel earlier when I met up with her.”

Lando looked up from his glass, giving you his full attention. “Yeah? How did it go by the way, how’s she holding up?”

”She’s trying, but she’s still shaken from what happened with Auntie Eleanor.” you replied. “She told me that she finds it hard to tell Nick everything because Nicky practically worships her Mom, because well, that’s how Chinese sons are—they think their Moms fart Chanel No.5.”

He froze for a moment, processing what you said, and then burst into laughter. Lando set down his wine glass as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

“That’s such an oddly specific comparison, babe. But honestly,” Lando said through his laughter, “it’s kind of perfect. I admit that at times, I notice that’s how Nick acts around Auntie Eleanor, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” you confirmed as you took another bite of your steam. “Rachel feels like Nick would never fully stand up to his mother and I get why she’s worried. But I explained to her how Auntie Eleanor is basically defenseless against two thousand years of Chinese filial piety.”

“Filial piety?” Lando repeated, brows furrowing slightly.

You took a sip of wine, then set the glass down carefully before explaining. “It’s this concept in Chinese culture that emphasizes respect, obedience, and care for your parents and elders.” you continued, “it’s not just about being polite, it’s deeply rooted in our traditions and values. Sons, in particular, are expected to honor their mothers in every way possible. That’s why it sometimes feels like their Moms can do no wrong.”

Lando nodded slowly, taking in your words. “So it’s more than just a family dynamic—it’s cultural, like a duty?”

“Exactly,” you said with a small smile. “It’s why Rachel feels the way she does, but I told her that she shouldn’t worry too much. Ah Ma has taken a liking on her, and that’s already a gold sign. Auntie Eleanor might act high and mighty, but at the end of the day, she doesn’t really have a say in Ah Ma’s decisions.”

“Basically, you’re saying that Auntie Eleanor has no powers here?” he tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Not over Ah Ma, no. Hell no,” you said, chuckling. “And honestly, I think it’s about time someone stood up to Auntie Eleanor. Rachel is strong, even if she doesn’t always realize it, Nick and her will be fine. It’s just a matter of time she finds her own footing and Nick learning to balance his loyalty to Auntie Eleanor with his commitment to Rachel.”

Lando chuckled softly, raising his wine glass. “Well, here’s to Rachel and Nick figuring it out, and to Ah Ma—who clearly runs the show.”

You clink your wine glass against Lando’s with a grin. “Family is really fucking complicated, but hey, cheers to that.”

When Lando finished the last bite of his steak, he set his fork down with a satisfied sigh. “Speaking of Ah ma,” he began, swirling his wine glass, “you Dad told me something very interesting stuff today.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? What did he say?”

Lando smiled, leaning back in his chair. “He mentioned how he knew that Ah Ma already gave us her blessing and that she’s expecting this relationship to end up in marriage.”

You froze mid-bite, fork hovering above your plate. “Wait,” you said slowly, “did Dad give you the talk?”

His grin widened, and before he could even answer, you groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Oh my fucking god, that’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled, voice muffled.

“It wasn’t bad,” Lando said laughing. “He was just laying it all out on me. Talking about how serious relationships are in your culture and how family values commitment. Honestly, I kind of expected it.”

You peaked through your fingers, cheeks burning. “Still,” you muttered, “he didn’t have to do that.”

Lando leaned forward, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, but that’s not all he told me.”

Your hands dropped from your face, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What else did he say?”

He smirked. “Apparently, back then you had a rebellious streak. Sneaking out to go on dates with different boys, huh?”

You groaned, slumping back in your chair. “Nooo. He did not tell you that.”

“Oh, he did,” Lando teased, clearly enjoying himself. “And he said that they knew exactly who those boys were because they were keeping track.”

Your head dropped to the table with a dramatic thud. “Why does Dad always have the need to air my embarrassing phase like that,” you said, voice muffled against the table.

Lando laughed. “Hey, it’s not that bad,” he reassured you.

Lifting your head, you frowned at him, still mortified. “Okay, but in my defense, I always had a feeling that they knew. Especially dad. I wasn’t exactly completely sure, you know? But now…” you sighed, gesturing at him. “Now I know that they know. Great.”

He reached across the table, fingers brushing against yours. “Is that why none of those boys ever made it past your family’s front door?”

“Yup,” you said, nodding. “Not a single one got far enough to meet my parents, I couldn’t really stand the thought of introducing someone who didn’t actually care about me at all.”

You continued, leaning back in your chair. “Along the way, I realized that they only wanted to be with me because of my family. They saw me as some kind of tool…I guess. Like being with me would give them status, connections, or some kind of benefit.”

Lando’s smile faded slightly, his expression turning serious. “I can imagine how tough it must’ve been.”

“I know,” you admitted. “I just wanted genuine connections, but they just saw me as an opportunity. So, before things got messy, I was always the one who ended it first. That’s why none of them ever got through the door of my parent’s house, or let alone set foot on our estate. They weren’t worth it at all.”

Lando reached across the table, hand covering yours. “Well, for the record, I’m glad your Dad approves of me, and I hope I’ve made it clear that I’m here because of you, not anything else.” he then added, “I do hope that I’ve done a better job at proving I’m not one of those boys.”

You smiled, finger tightening around his. “You’re not even close. You’re nothing like them, Lan. You’ve made it more clear, that’s why you’re here now.”

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains as you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing out the delicate fabric of your gown. The gown was breathtaking, every inch was meticulously crafted by Giambattista Valli himself. The subtle shimmer in the fabric caught the light as you moved, and you smiled, tracing your fingers over the discreet initials that had been embroidered near the hem—a personal touch that made the gown uniquely yours. Lando’s suit complemented you perfectly, a sharp, tailored masterpiece with matching initials of his name on the inner lapel.

Lando adjusted the cuffs on his crisp white dress shirt but fumbled slightly with the cuff links. Noticing his struggle, you stepped in closer, gently taking the cuff links from his hands.

“Here, babe, let me,” you said softly, deftly fastening the sleek gold links.

His eyes met yours, a small smile forming on his lips. “Thanks, love. You always know how to save me, huh.”

“You’d manage eventually,” you replied with a teasing smile, your fingers lingering for a moment on his wrist. “But we can’t afford to be late.”

Just as you finished, a soft chime from your phone notified you of the arrival of the car. “The car's here,” you said, stepping back to grab your clutch.

Lando picked up his jacket, slipping it on before crossing the room to you. “Ready?” he asked, offering his arm.

“Ready,” you confirmed, taking his arm as he led you to the door.

The car was waiting at the entrance, its sleek black exterior gleaming in the sunlight. The chauffeur quickly stepped out, opening the door for you, and Lando helped you down the small steps, his hand steady at your back as you navigated the delicate heels you were wearing. He opened the car door, his free hand gently resting on yours as you lowered yourself into the plush interior.

“Careful,” he murmured, making sure you were settled before following after you.

Once he was seated beside you, the car pulled smoothly away, the soft hum of the engine filled the air. You glanced at the matching embroidery on your outfits, a quiet sense of anticipation washing over you as you looked ahead to the day’s events.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the First Methodist Church, the scene outside was a whirlwind of flashing cameras and steady buzz of voices. There was a long line of luxury vehicles stretched down the street, each one spilling out more high-profile guests—foreign dignitaries, government leaders, business tycoons, and a studded lineup of Asia’s brightest stars.

Crowds outside were a sea of media personnel, their cameras aimed and ready to capture every moment of what deemed Singapore’s wedding of the century, akin to Royal Asian Wedding. The chauffeur stepped out and swiftly opened Lando’s door. He exited gracefully, buttoning his tailored suit jacket before turning to offer you a hand. You placed your hand in his, and helped you out of the car.

The moment you fully got out of the car, the flash of the cameras intensified, different photographers yelling questions and calling your names. You paused beside Lando, your arm loosely looped through his, both of you offering calm, poised expressions for the cameras.

“This is a lot,” Lando murmured under his breath, leaning closer so only you could hear.

“Welcome to Singapore’s media circus,” you replied quietly, managing a polite smile as you stood in place for a few more seconds.

The attention was relentless. A few reporters called out to Lando directly, asking for interviews or comments, their voices cutting through the crowd. He shook his head subtly, lifting a hand to politely decline as the two of you turned to make your way towards the church entrance.

You glided across the red carpet, your hand still resting lightly on Lando’s arm. As you approached the grand doors, the tall, ornate arches of the church loomed above, intricate carvings catching the light. The media frenzy continues behind you, but you maintain your composure.

Then, as you entered the threshold, a familiar face came into view, one that is so familiar with you—Francesca Shaw. She stood just off the side, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd as if assessing everyone in attendance. Her pristine gold dress was undoubtedly designer, her hair styled to perfection.

Your expression shifted instantly, a smile vanishing into a deadpan look. Francesca caught your gaze for a moment, her lips twitching as if she might say something, but your firm expression was enough to make her quickly redirect her attention to something, or rather someone else.

Lando noticed the brief exchange as you both walked past her. “Who’s that?” he asked, voice low but curious.

You glanced at him. “Francesca Shaw,” you replied simply, keeping your tone neutral.

He furrowed his brows. “Should I know who she is? Friend of yours?”

“Fuck no,” you answered quickly. “She was the one that’s responsible for the gutted fish in Rachel’s bed during Minty’s bachelorette party.”

Lando blinked, steps faltering for just a moment. “Wait, that’s her?!”

“Mm-hmm,” you confirmed, leading him further into the church. “Best to steer clear. Nothing good comes from her.”

He nodded, expression tightening slightly as he glanced back toward Francesca. “Noted.”

As you and Lando stepped into the main part of the church, the sheer opulence of the space struck you in awe. The vaulted ceilings were adorned with intricate gold details, and the air was filled with soft strains of a live string quartet stationed discreetly in one corner. Every surface seemed to glisten, whether from the polished marble floors, crystal chandeliers, or the hundreds of white orchids cascading over every available surface. It was evident that no expense had been spared—the grandeur practically screamed wealth and power.

Lando’s eyes scanned the space as he whistled low, “this is extravagant.”

You smiled, leaning slightly closer to him as you whispered back, “wait until you see the reception. This is just the warm-up.”

You and Lando moved further into the church, where you caught sight of your family by one of the pews. Your mother stood alongside your Auntie Alix, Auntie Eleanor, and Auntie Jacqueline, their presence commanding attention as they chatted with a group of equally polished society wives. It was a familiar tableau—your aunts all clustered together, forming an impenetrable circle of sharp eyes and even more sharper tongues.

Predictably, your Auntie Eleanor seemed to be critiquing the whole setup. She gestured subtly towards the floral arrangements, her expression a mix of disapproval and thinly veiled judgement. While your Auntie Jacqueline, ever the pragmatist, seemed to be nodding in agreement, and your mother maintained her usual composed smile, occasionally offering diplomatic comments.

You and Lando approached them briefly, exchanging polite greetings. Your mother’s smile softened when she saw you, and she leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“You look very lovely, my darling,” she said, before glancing at Lando and adding, “and the two of you together—perfection, as always!”

After a few moments of pleasantries, you had excused yourselves, knowing the four of them would stick together for the ceremony and be seated in the same pew.

You made your way to the second row, you noted that the first row had been reserved for the Khoos and Lees, with Colin and Araminta’s immediate families already seated. You scanned the room quickly but no sign of Rachel yet, though Nick was near the altar with Colin and the other groomsmen, laughing and chatting. You assumed Rachel must be somewhere nearby.

Upon reaching your seats, you and Lando slid into the second row, settling into the plush velvet cushions. Three rows behind you, your mother and aunts had taken their places, their polished presence unmistakable even without turning around.

You leaned towards Lando, lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “So, I heard from Auntie Alix,” you began, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, “that Colin and Minty’s family spent sixty-five million dollars on this wedding.”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly, though he managed to keep his expression neutral. “Sixty-five?” he repeated under his breath.

You nodded, biting back a laugh as you added, “and it made me laugh because I heard Auntie Jacqueline said, ‘we’re Methodists, forty million is our maximum budget for a wedding like this.’”

That was enough to make Lando chuckle softly and shake his head in disbelief. “Forty million is the maximum?” he echoed, tone incredulous but amused.

You grinned, leaning back slightly but keeping your voice low. “Apparently, anything above that is considered excessive—even by our standards.”

Then, you turned around discreetly in your seat to scan the church again, searching for Rachel. It didn’t take long to spot her, she had just arrived and was being greeted warmly by Oliver by the entrance. She moved with a quiet confidence, her luminous presence immediately drawing attention. Heads all turning as she walked past, captivated by the stunning dress she wore—a rich light blue that complimented her complexion perfectly and subtly shimmered in the light.

Your aunts, seated a few rows behind you, were visibly taken aback. Auntie Eleanor, who rarely displays much reaction, looked momentarily stunned, her usual sharp expression softening into one of unguarded surprise. Your Auntie Alix leaned closer to whisper something to her, and Auntie Jacqueline adjusted her posture, almost as if reevaluating Rachel in that moment.

Your mother, however, was all warmth. You could see her beaming brightly at Rachel, her smile filled with genuine approval. You knew immediately what she was thinking, she completely adored the dress and the elegance Rachel exuded.

But something else caught your attention. Rachel glanced towards the pew where your mother and aunts were seated, but she didn’t move towards them. It was obvious she had not been invited to sit with them. Likely, they had made some excuses about how their pew was full, even though you could see there was space.

Rachel hesitated for a brief moment, her eyes scanning the room for an empty seat. Without thinking twice, you raised your hand and waved her over, her eyes lighting up when she saw you, and she made her way towards you. When she reached you, you immediately stood up and pulled her into a warm hug.

“You look absolutely incredible,” you whispered, meaning every word. You stepped back slightly to admire the dress. “That color on you, it’s just so perfect.”

Rachel smiled, her cheeks flushing just slightly. “Thank you,” she replied softly, clearly touched by the compliment.

You gestured to the space beside you. “Come, come. Sit with us,” you said, nodding toward the pew. “There’s plenty of room here.”

She hesitated for only a second before accepting. “Thank you,” she said, voice genuine.

Rachel slid into the pew beside you, and you could feel a subtle sense of relief in her presence as she settled into the seat. Lando leaned over slightly to greet Rachel with a polite nod and warm smile, and exchanged a quick look with him, silently acknowledging how significant this small act of kindness was, especially considering the dynamics at play.

Then, the murmur of the crowd faded into silence as Colin, Nick, and the four other groomsmen made their entrance alongside the pastor. Together, they formed an impeccable picture of elegance and charm, with their perfectly tailored suits catching the soft glow of the church lights. They walked with synchronized strides, confident yet there’s a reverent air about them, like a dashing pack.

Your attention drifted to Rachel, seated beside you, and the way her expression softened when her eyes found Nick. You caught the subtle shift in her demeanor as their gazes locked, a quiet exchange of affection that needed no words. There was something magnetic about the way they looked at each other, as though the entire room fell away for just a brief moment.

A hush of anticipation swept over the congregation as Kina Grannis took the stage by the live string quartet. Her voice rose delicately, the familiar strains of I Can’t Help Falling in Love filled the whole church with a dreamy, romantic air. The melody was sweet and tender, it struck a chord deep within, making the atmosphere impossibly more magical.

Two tiny figures appeared at the entrance—adorable flower girls, their tiny hands clasping wicker baskets as they scattered delicate petals along the aisle. They moved in a choreographed sweetness, bright smiles stealing the hearts of everyone in the room.

Behind them, toddled an equally charming ring bearer, clutching the pillow with seriousness that belied his young age. Each careful step he took earned a quiet chuckle from the crowd, his determination clear as he reached the altar. Nick crouched slightly, taking the ring pillow from the boy, and the playful high-five exchanged between them drew a ripple of soft laughter and smiles.

There was a collective gasp echoing through the church. Water began to flow, a gentle cascade spilling onto the aisle, shimmering as it caught the light. It trickled in perfect harmony, creating a luminous, rippling path that stretched from the entrance to the altar. The sound of water intertwined with the stillness of the music, holding everyone in awe.

The lights dimmed suddenly, and the soft flicker of long delicate stems with glowing tips spread through the crowd like fireflies. One by one, everyone in the congregation reached for the stems and held it aloft, their glittery illumination casting a celestial over the church, all eyes turning towards the entrance.

A group of bridesmaids stood poised, holding beautifully decorated large fronds that veiled what could only be Araminta. Their positioning was precise, deliberate, and graceful. With a choreographed motion, the bridesmaids slowly lifted the fronds, revealing Araminta, standing right next to her father. The moment was breathtaking—she radiated an ethereal elegance that made her appear almost otherworldly.

Araminta held her father’s hand as she gracefully stepped out of her towering heels. The hushed audience barely had a chance to react before she stepped forward, placing her bare feet onto the watery aisle. The music resumed, delicate yet triumphant, as she began her slow, graceful walk.

The bridesmaids followed closely behind her, their steps echoing her elegance, as the congregation swayed their glittery lights in unison. It was a scene out of a dream, a river of light and water that guided Araminta towards her future. From your seat, you could see Colin at the altar, his composed demeanor wavered, expression softening as he took in the sight of Araminta, eyes glistening with unshed tears, emotion written plainly on his face.

You didn’t exactly know what came over you, but as you sat there in the church, watching Colin and Araminta exchange glances filled with love and anticipation, a thought took root inside your mind. The entire wedding, its grandeur, intimacy, and the sense of two people stepping into forever had stirred something within you. It was not a matter of envy or longing for the spectacle itself, but it was the way Colin looked at Araminta—the way she smiled back at him, and the unspoken promise that passed between them.

Perhaps, selfishly, you found yourself imagining that kind of future for yourself. Not just marriage for the sake of it, but a marriage with Lando. The idea settled gently, not as a plan or something to be rushed, but as a hope—a quiet wish for someday. Though it was still too early now, you both were at the top of your careers, still growing individually and as a couple. A year of dating was only the beginning, and there was no need to rush, but the seed of the thought was already there, talking with surprising ease.

It made you genuinely happy to see Colin and Araminta standing at the altar. You had been an observer of their relationship from the beginning, a silent witness to the small and significant moments that had brought them to this day.

Growing up, Colin had been a near-constant presence in your family’s life, a fixture at every gathering and celebration. He was practically an honorary member of your family, and it felt like he belonged there just as much as anyone else. You had seen how Colin pined for Araminta, how he had talked Nick’s ear off about her, recounting every detail of their interactions with the kind of fervor only someone deeply in love could manage. Nick had confided that much to you during your conversations over the years, shaking his head fondly at how his best friend could turn any discussion into one about Araminta.

Your relationship with Nick has always been different from that with your other cousins. Despite the age gap, there was a closeness there that came naturally. Unlike many of your other cousins, who were either too competitive or too caught up in their own bubbles, Nick had always been kind, grounded, and someone you can rely on. Growing up, you often found yourself gravitating towards him, trusting him in ways you could not with the others.

So, seeing Colin—Nick’s best friend, your family’s honorary member, now finally standing with Araminta, the woman he had loved for so long, felt like a full circle of something extraordinary. It made you believe in the kind of love that could weather time and challenges, the kind of love that could one day be yours with Lando.

The reception took place at Gardens by the Bay, where the Botanical Gardens had been transformed into a scene straight out of fairytales. It was utterly breathtaking—every detail meticulously designed to create an almost otherworldly atmosphere. The iconic supertrees stretched overhead, illuminated with soft lights that shimmered in sync with the music. A Chinese big band played softly, filling the air with a nostalgic charm, while fireworks erupted in bursts of vibrant color against the dark night sky, casting an ethereal glow over the festivities.

Colin and Araminta were having their first dance at the center of it all, moving effortlessly in harmony. The wedding party stood loosely circled around them, watching the moment in admiration. You stood close to Lando, his arms loosely draped around your waist, holding you gently but securely. Chest pressed against your back as he swayed with you to the rhythm of the music, a silent echo of the couple’s dance.

Lando leaned in closer, voice low and intimate as he said, “you know, I didn’t really get the chance to tell you earlier, but you look absolutely stunning today, baby.”

His words caught you slightly off guard, but the sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten with warmth. Before you could respond, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek, lingering just long enough for his breath to tickle your skin.

“And this dress,” he added, lips brushing against your exposed shoulder now, “it’s beautiful. But it doesn’t even come close to how insanely beautiful you are.”

Your heart raced as Lando shifted, tilting your face gently towards his. His lips captured yours in a kiss, slow and tender, yet filled with a quiet intensity that made the world around you momentarily dissolve. When Lando pulled back, his eyes met yours, a glint of affection and something deeper reflecting in the warm light of the supertrees.

When Colin and Araminta’s first dance came to an end, the band seamlessly transitioned to a lively and upbeat tune. The atmosphere shifted immediately, with laughter bubbling through the crowd, and Araminta, radiant and full of energy, already had an outfit change, began beckoning guests onto the dance floor.

“Come on, come on!” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “The party isn’t going to dance itself!”

You and Lando exchanged a quick glance, a shared look of amusement and anticipation. Without any single hesitation, he took your hand gently, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Let’s go,” he said, tone light and teasing.

“Lan, babe, I don’t really—” you began, hesitating slightly, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“You’re with me,” he assured, grinning reassuringly. “I won’t let you look awkward, I promise.”

The music pulsed through the whole garden, and the dance floor was quickly filling with guests, each one letting loose in the joyful chaos of the celebration, singing along with the band. You had never considered yourself much of a dancer, the thought of dancing always made you self-conscious. Your movements felt stiff and unnatural, and the fear of looking out of place usually kept you from even trying. But with Lando, it was different.

Lando kept a firm but gentle grip on your hand, spinning you lightly to the rhythm of Wo Yao Ni De Ai. His energy was very contagious, movements all natural and easy, and he guided you effortlessly, making sure you felt comfortable.

“Just follow my lead,” he said, voice steady over the music. “And don’t think about it too much.”

You did as he said, allowing yourself to let go of the self-consciousness. You focused on him, and only him—Lando’s playful smile, the way his hands steadied you, the warmth of his presence. Soon, the tension that you’re feeling in your body eased, and you found yourself laughing as you moved to the beat.

“I told you you'd be fine,” Lando said, voice filled with a playful confidence.

“I still think I look very ridiculous,” you replied, laughter spilling out.

“You look amazing,” he countered without missing a beat.

The two of you moved seamlessly among the crowd, completely immersed in the music and the moment. Lando twirled you under his arm, making you laugh again as you stumbled slightly, but his steady hands caught you before you could lose balance.

As the music reached its end, he pulled you in closer. Lando’s movements slowed, the lively rhythm fading into the background as his gaze locked with yours. There was an intensity in his eyes, a soft, unspoken emotion that made you breath catch. Without a word, he leaned in, lips capturing yours in a kiss—gentle, tender, and filled with quiet passion that seemed to echo everything unsaid between you.

When he pulled back, a small smile played on his lips. “See? You’re a natural,” he teased, tone soft and warm.

You just rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The music had picked up again, and without hesitation, you two returned to the rhythm of the night, dancing together with an ease and happiness that made the rest of the world fade away, leaving you and Lando in a little bubble that you made yourself.

As the party went on, you and Lando continued swaying to the rhythm of the music, letting the night carry you in its revelry. The energy of the party was contagious, and you both were determined to make the most of it. The crowd around you was lively, a series of laughter and chatter blending into the music.

Suddenly, someone bumped into you, jostling you slightly. Turning to see who it was, you found yourself face-to-face with Rachel, who was looking very upset, her expression disoriented and distressed as she weaved through the throng of dancing guests.

“Rachel?” you called out, instinctively reaching out to her, your brows furrowing with concern.

Lando gently let go of your hand, his expression mirroring yours. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Rachel, however, did not respond. She seemed lost in her thoughts, her gaze darting around as if trying to find something, or someone. Her pace was erratic and quickened as she moved further into the crowd.

You were about to follow her when a piercing scream cut through the music, causing heads to turn. There was laughter and the unmistakable hum of a crowd gathering, phones were raised in unison, their screens glowing as guests pointed toward something, or someone hidden behind the bushes near the edge of the garden.

Your stomach dropped as you and Lando turned to see what the commotion was about. Emerging from the bushes was half-naked Bernard Tai, his shirt already gone and his pants barely clinging to his hips. His movements were chaotic, clearly drunk, and he pawed at Kitty Pong, who struggled to pull herself away.

Kitty, the girlfriend of your cousin Alistair, looked utterly mortified. Her dress was disheveled, and her face was flushed with shame as she desperately tried to cover herself. Bernard, oblivious to the humiliation that they are now facing and radiating off of Kitty, stumbles toward her again, but she shoves him back.

The crowd wasn’t really helping. Instead of intervening, they just stood there, laughing, and some guests outright pointing and jeering, others filming the entire scene as Kitty managed to pull her dress up and flee from the scene, heels clicking sharply against the pavement as she disappeared into the night.

You felt a mix of shock and disgust twist in your stomach, gaze flicking between the fleeing Kitty and the drunken Bernard, who was now slumped against a nearby table, seemingly unaware, or uncaring, of the chaos he had caused. At Colin and Araminta’s wedding, nonetheless.

Lando shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath.

Though your attention snapped back to Rachel. She had managed to stop briefly during the commotion, her body all stiff and face unreadable as she watched the scene unfold.

“Rachel!” you called again, but by the time you stepped forward, she was already gone, melting into the crowd and disappearing from view.

A few moments later, Nick came running toward you and Lando, face flushed and breathing uneven. “Have you guys seen Rachel?” he asked urgently, eyes scanning the crowd as though hoping she might reappear.

You glanced back toward the direction Rachel had gone, your worry mounting. “She was just here, but—”

“She already left, mate.” Lando finished, voice somber.

Nick looked around frantically, but it was clear he was too late. Rachel was already nowhere to be found, and whatever had just unfolded seemed to mark the abrupt descent of what had been.

As the night wound down, you and Lando decided it was time to call it a day. The events of the wedding had been unforgettable, but the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Knowing that you only had one day left in Singapore before flying to the UK for Christmas, you both set out to find Colin and Araminta to thank them properly.

After weaving through the remaining guests hand in hand, you finally spotted the newlyweds near the dance floor, glowing with happiness as they spoke to family and friends. When you approached, Colin was the first to notice, greeting you and Lando with a wide smile.

“Hey, you two! Having a good time?” Colin asked, tone warm and genuine.

“A very amazing time,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you so much for inviting us. This was truly the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever been to.”

“Absolutely,” Lando added, nodding. “It was really incredible. Congratulations again to both of you.”

Araminta beamed, her hands resting lightly on Colin’s arm. “Thank you so much for coming. It means the world to us to have you here.”

“Though we wish we could’ve stayed longer,” you said, “but we’re flying back to the UK the day after tomorrow to spend Christmas with Lan’s family.”

Araminta’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s very wonderful! But before you go, we absolutely need a picture together.”

She glanced around and quickly called over a photographer, waving him toward your small group. “We need a picture of the four of us,” she told the photographer with a laugh.

The photographer positioned all of you, and Colin gently placed a hand on Lando’s shoulder while Araminta stood beside you, her arm lightly around your waist. The flash went off, capturing the moment perfectly.

“Wait, wait,” Araminta said after the photographer stepped away. “We need one on your phone too!”

You quickly pulled out your phone, handing it to her so she could take the picture. She directed Colin to pull in a little closer so you could all fit on the frame. This time, the pose was more casual, with everyone leaning in and smiling brightly.

After the pictures were taken, Colin suddenly chimed in. “Oh, by the way, Harrison mentioned the other day that you’re moving to Monaco soon?”

You nodded. “That’s the plan. Everything’s set to go in a few weeks.”

“Then we’ll probably see you in Monaco soon!” Araminta said with a smile. “We’ve got a few trips planned early next year.”

“Definitely! Let us know when you’re coming,” Lando said. “We’ll take you around and catch up.”

“For sure, man! Absolutely.” Colin replied, grinning wide.

You and Lando hugged Colin and Araminta goodbye, exchanging heartfelt well wishes for their honeymoon and married life ahead. As you turned to leave, Araminta gave your hand a quick squeeze.

“Have a safe trip, and Merry Christmas!” she said happily.

“Merry Christmas!” you and Lando said in unison before heading off to find your mother.

Your mother was seated at a table, chatting animatedly with your Auntie Eleanor. When she saw you approach, she stood up and pulled you into a warm embrace.

“You two leaving already?” she asked, tone affectionate.

“We are,” you said softly. “But it was such a beautiful wedding. Everything was perfect.”

“I’m so glad you could be home,” she replied, smoothing a hand over your arm. “Have a safe flight to the UK, and please give my regards to Lando’s family.”

“We will,” you promised, hugging her tightly once more before stepping back. “Lando and I will be back for the New Year’s.”

Your mother stretched out her arms to Lando, giving him a hug. “Thank you for everything.”

“Take good care of her, okay?” your mother reminded, as she smiled at Lando kindly.

“Always,” Lando replied with quiet sincerity.

When you and Lando finally walked through the door of your home, a deep sense of relief washed over you both. The quiet was a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and you couldn’t help but sigh as you finally slipped off your heels by the entryway. Lando stretched his arms over his head, letting a low groan before giving you a small smile.

“Fucking finally,” he said, voice filled with exhaustion but tinged with amusement. “Home sweet home. That was…something, huh.”

You nodded, placing your clutch by the glass table. “Eventful doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

After settling down on the couch, you pulled out your phone and sent Rachel a quick text:

Hey, Rachel. I hope you’re okay. If you need anything or just want to talk, I’m always here for you.

You stared at the screen for a few moments before putting the phone down. There was a lot on your mind, but Rachel’s well-being was at the top of the list right now. Lando was already seated, leaning back against the cushions with his tie undone and his jacket draped over the armrest. He turned to you with a tired grin.

“That’s got to be the most entertaining wedding reception I’ve ever been to. Not wild, exactly, but definitely eventful. I mean—” he gestured vaguely with his hands. “What even was that? Who are those people?”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You mean Bernard and Kitty?”

“Yeah.” Lando nodded.

You sighed deeply, not really knowing where to begin or how to start the conversation about Bernard and Kitty. “Bernard Tai is…well, where do I even fucking start with that guy? Let’s see…he’s the only son of Dato’ Tai Toh Lui and Carol Tai, an insanely wealthy family. The Tai Fortune is massive, and Bernad’s basically the heir to all of it. He’s a former classmate of Nick and Colin back in the day.”

“And?” Lando prompted, tilting his head.

“And he’s spoiled as fuck,” you said bluntly. “Like, obnoxiously spoiled. He’s been handed everything his entire life and spends his day burning through money on the most ridiculous shit. He lives for excess and has zero accountability for anything he does. Basically, to sum up all of it—he’s a walking disaster who somehow gets away with everything because of daddy’s money and his family’s influence.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by all of it. “Sounds like he’s a real charmer.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s one way to put it.” you hesitated for a moment before continuing. “And then there’s Ms. Kitty Pong.”

“She’s Alistair’s girlfriend, right?” Lando asked, recalling her name from earlier.

“That’s ex-girlfriend now,” you corrected. “Kitty’s…a real piece of work. She used to be a soap opera star who decided to pivot into climbing the social ladder. She’s been trying, well, desperately, to get into the higher social circles here, but that’s not really going well for her.”

You continued, “most people look down on her because they see her as a gold-digger, and honestly, they’re not really wrong. She's always relying on people like Oliver or Corinna Ko-Tung—Fiona’s cousin, to help her navigate these circles.”

Lando frowned slightly. “And Bernard?”

“Not much better, honestly,” you shrugged. “Yes, he’s a part of our circle, but no one takes him seriously because he’s…well, Bernard. After tonight? Him and Kitty just cemented themselves as gossip fodder for weeks, maybe months. What they pulled tonight at Colin and Minty’s wedding reception is only going to add fuel to the fire. Kitty’s already seen as an outsider, and now, people have an excuse to talk, ridicule, and ostracize her even more.”

He let out a low whistle, leaning his head back against the couch. “That’s rough. But honestly, I don’t get why they thought this, of all nights, was the right time to make a scene.”

You exhaled sharply, the frustration you had been holding back starting to bubble up. “Exactly. Colin and Minty’s wedding was supposed to be their moment. They’ve worked so hard to make it perfect, and then Bernard and Kitty come along and turn it into…that.”

Lando reaches over, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, don’t let them ruin it for you. The wedding was still beautiful, and Colin and Minty looked so happy. That’s what matters, right?”

You nodded slowly, trying to let go of your irritation. “Yeah, you’re right. It's just…makes me mad, you know? They deserved better than that.”

They did,” Lando agreed, voice soft. “But it’s already over now, and you can’t control what other people do. All you can do now is focus on the good parts of the day, and trust me, there were a lot of those.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into him. “Thanks for the reminder. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Lando pressed a light kiss to the top of your head. “Always.”

[waokevale]

Something Something Doppelganger~

As I promised, I shall explain my idea of Forneus being a former vessel of the red crown!

First of, the most obvious reason, Narinder might have grown frustrated with his siblings killing off all his former vessels, so he figured, perhaps one akin to him in resemblance the most, would make them more conflicted.

It worked perfectly of course, and his siblings hesitated moreso in harming her.

The only one who didn't hesitate as much was Leshy, due to obvious reasons, sensing her primarily off on smell, he could tell that she was a different feline.

However, Narinder didn't grow fond of her solely based on her appearance alone, she was a very competent and vicious one, (before pregande that is) and managed to defeat the youngest Bishop. Although, Narinder being merely a century or few into his imprisonment, still struggled with his guilt and ordered her to spare him. (Though, Leshy definitely got mocked for being weak by his siblings later) ✌️ 🐸)

Forneus was one of the most loyal vessels. Still is, despite all that had happened. (Which is also canon, she is one of the very few NPCs aligned with him. It is specifically stated that she is the only other character who's alignment is "Worships The One Who Waits" the other one being Ratau, who himself was a vessel)

Forneus VOLUNTARILY gave up the red crown, unlike Ratau who was (technically) demoted for his insubordination. When she had her kids she realized... maybe there's more to life than just that, so she seeked penance.

Narinder was upset with her choice, but decided not to punish her. Although, he did say that she would lose all her powers and semi-immortality. She was persistent.

Forneus begrudgingly, but willingly gave up her children, once Shamura promised they'd be taken in by her god. She doesn't know all the details though, as stated in canon.

Shamura made her immortal again, and gave her ||something || to hold onto, if she ever got a chance to see her kids again, it would be returned to its rightful owner.

She did! She doesn't fully begrudge Narinder for them being kinda fucked up, but she is dissapointed. To be fair, he did go insane in there. (He does eventually apologize to her for that, as does Shamura..maybe)

_____________

And that's all I have for now! I'll need to hyperfixate more on this. :>

@17magpiesinatrenchcoat

[achromatophoric]

Shortly before returning to Nevermore, a pair of siblings study a certain blonde and blue-eyed doll.

Pugsley: So you’re telling me that this doll is possessed by the malevolent spirit of one of the Kansas City Scalper’s victims?

Pugsley: And that once at Nevermore, it’s going to try to torment and eventually kill you and all your fri—

Wednesday: *eyes narrow dangerously*

Pugsley: *cringes* Uh… I mean you and all your allies of convenience…?

Wednesday: *relaxes her gaze* Yes, that is what shall inevitably transpire.

Pugsley: 🤔

Pugsley: Sis, if that’s the vision you got from it, why the heck are you still bringing it to school?

Wednesday: Because Enid will adore it beyond all reasonable measure.

Pugsley: And how do you know that?

Wednesday: My vision ended with her sobbing over the doll’s remains, looking as though she had been forced to ruthlessly dispatch her very own flesh and blood.

Pugsley: 🫢

Pugsley: Wow, Sis. That’s horrific. I can’t believe you’re such a… a…

Wednesday: Thoughtful roommate? Yes, well, Enid is a special case.

Pugsley: Yeah... I just wish I were as lucky as her. *pouts*

Wednesday: Worry not, Brother. There’s always the next trophy-obsessed serial killer.

Pugsley: 🥹

[bewitched-hours]

Yan!Forsaken | Pizzaburger x Reader

Thanks to @brain4stew for suggesting this-

Reader's pronouns shall be She/They~

Ah, an ex-hacker and the pizza man, you sure know how to pick... Whatever the fuck you got yourself into-

Ever since you joined this purgatory, Elliot and 007n7 seemed to have a bit of a... Situation with you...

It was clear Elliot hadn't liked 007 but 7 was trying to make the other more comfortable.

And you? You were stuck in the middle of it trying to help 007 get closer to Elliot and unknowingly lighting a flame between them that burned for each other and you, surprisingly.

At first you were proud of yourself, thinking you helped them get closer with 007 awkwardly dancing around his insecurities while you and Elliot helped him work on himself. And Elliot would awkwardly talk about his own insecurities with you and 007 trying to help him.

In return, you had a survivalist and a support always with you during rounds. At first you thought it was normal to team up but Shedletsky eventually informed you it was rare for any of them to team up during rounds unless there was a plan....

Which you never had...

All that led to the situation you were in now, with 007 having his arms wrapped around you and you sitting on his lap while reading a book with Elliot and quietly discussing the unrealistic tropes you encountered.

It was all just for some silly fun, a bonding activity for late 'nights' where you couldn't sleep and the two just so happened to be nearby and ready to help. You were all in your underwear but whatever your relationship was, they didn't treat it as anything special.

... Safe for the occasional flinching or twitching when you made any sudden moves in their grip-

But tonight the curiosity had you just a little antsy. And they didn't fail to notice. They may not have wanted to bring it up in respect of your privacy but you needed to bring it up before this question ate you up from the inside.

"What... Are we...? L-like- What do we call this relationship??" The words hesitantly slipped from your mouth, making them both go silent and take a moment to look at each other before turning back to you with a shared nod.

007n7 carefully turned you around to face them. "We were kinda hoping to start a relationship with you..? Like a polycule?" Elliot spoke up, getting your face as rosy as their own.

You were already surprised one of them would be in love with you but BOTH? And even suggesting a polycule? This wasn't a dream, was it??

You shortly began counting your fingers, much to the amusement of both men in your bed. It was a bit embarrassing but you figure it was worth the check before nodding with a relieved sigh.

"Okay- yeah- Yeah! I'd love to!" You stammered a bit, watching their faces soften at your words before taking turns spoiling you with kisses. Your increasingly reddening face and lack of protest(because let's be honest, why would you) only seemed to encourage them further, although they made sure to ask for consent before even postitioning themselves against you like a sandwich, showing you with love marks and praise from the front and back and enjoying the adorable noises you made.

That night, you let them see a side of you that they never expected from someone as sweet as you...

Not that they're complaining though

Honestly I was tempted but told myself I'd wait for an actual smut request before I dip my toes into full descriptions of... Well- smut-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[ducksido]

Woe be upon thee for the rat returns

Lol

Could I ask for the overblot boys (+kalim) with a neurodivergant yuu s/o with a biting stim? They chew on their pencils and hoodie strings. And their hands have calluses in weird places from where they frequently bite. (Ex. Side of thumb or knuckle.) But now they've taken to gently biting their boyfriend.

-🐁 anon

(🧀🧀)

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus is concerned seeing the calluses and the frayed hoodie strings. “Child of Man… what caused this? Were you injured?” You explain it’s a stim, and he listens with an eerie stillness. Then he nods like you just told him dragons chew gemstones for fun. When you start biting him, gently, experimentally—his expression doesn’t change, but his ears twitch. “You… are using me to soothe yourself?” When you nod shyly, he smiles. “Then I am honored.” Malleus starts offering his hand to you during stressful moments. He’ll even let you nibble his sleeve or fingers. Lilia warns him about germs. Malleus says, “Let them come. I shall bite back.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Oi, herbivore. Quit gnawing your hoodie like a chew toy.” You freeze, ashamed, until Leona notices the calluses and realizes: oh. It’s not just a habit. It’s regulation. “...Tch. Should’ve figured.” He doesn’t talk about it again. But one day, mid-lounge, you lightly bite his arm. He flinches. “The hell?” You look guilty—until Leona shoves his wrist closer. “You wanna bite something, bite that. Just don’t break skin, we clear?” Leona won’t admit it, but he finds it weirdly endearing. Your teeth marks are like a “property of” stamp to him. He acts annoyed, but if he sees you chewing your thumb raw, he’ll shove a hoodie string at you: “Not that one. Use mine. Smells like me anyway.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Initially panics seeing you bite your thumb. “S/O, stop that! That’s unsanitary! You’ll get sick—oh no, did you draw blood?” Once he learns it’s a stim and not self-harm, he reads three psychology articles and two guides on sensory regulation. When you bite him, though—short-circuited. “S/O! W-why are you—?! Oh. It’s… comforting? Oh.” Visibly blushes. Starts keeping hand sanitizer on him so you can safely nibble his knuckle or sleeve cuff. He might even get you a stim-friendly necklace, but secretly loves it more when you bite his fingers. “It’s very unconventional… but I’m glad I can help you feel safe.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Sees your chewed pencil and almost cries. “You ruined the lacquer—oh. Wait.” When you explain it’s a stim, he’s quiet. Processing. Overanalyzing. Making mental flowcharts. “It’s a regulatory behavior. Understood.” Then you bite his shoulder during a cuddle session. Short-circuits. Blue-screen-of-Azul. “S/O. You’re—biting me?” You nod. He looks deeply flustered. “That’s… oddly domestic.” Eventually lets you do it but insists on sanitary conditions. You must use mouthwash. He will offer the mouthwash. He does like it, though. It makes him feel… grounded. Important. Loved. “Next time, at least warn me. Or use the left side—I’m ticklish on the right.”

Jamil Viper

Notices you biting before you even explain it. Silently makes sure you don’t hurt yourself. One day, while cooking, you walk up and bite his arm softly. “…S/O.” “Sorry.” “No, I just—what brought this on?” When you explain, he just sighs. “You’re lucky I like you.” Jamil adjusts to it fast. Offers his hoodie drawstrings if you forget yours. Starts wearing long sleeves so you can bite the cuffs. If anyone else notices the teeth marks, he simply says, “Mind your business.” Secretly flattered. Won’t admit it unless sleep-deprived or sick. “...You’re like a weird emotional leech. But cute. So it’s fine.”

Kalim Al-Asim

“Ohhh! That’s why your hoodie strings are so short! I thought it was a style thing!” He’s 100% unbothered by it. He loves it. Finds it adorable. Encourages it. When you bite him for the first time, he giggles. “Hey! That tickled! Want me to hold still next time?” Will offer his hand when you’re anxious. Literally wiggles his fingers at you like “Chew me! :D” Probably commissions fancy clothes with chew-safe sleeves just for you. Even trains Jamil to recognize when you're looking for something to bite. “You need me to stand still again, S/O? No worries! I’m bite-ready!”

Vil Schoenheit

Horrified when he sees your chewed hoodie. “Absolutely not. That fabric’s toxic.” You explain it’s a stim. He stops. Studies you. Then says, “...We’ll find something safer.” Buys you high-end chewable jewelry in elegant designs. No shame, just practical love. But the first time you bite him? He freezes like a deer in headlights. “...You just bit me. Why?” You sheepishly explain, and Vil is silent. Then: “If it must be me, at least avoid bruising. And don’t ruin the manicure.” Starts carrying lotion and sanitizer in a little pouch labeled “S/O Chew Kit.” Rolls his eyes when you use him as a stress chew toy—but lets you. “Beauty is fleeting. But your comfort? That, we maintain.”

[zenyyyluvyuu]

Can I have one order of platonic yandere batfam with a normal reader and for the side I would like the Batman to be a little bit in awe because it's been so long since Bruce has had a normal child around and for the drink can I have everyone in the Batfam low-key freaking out finding out Bruce has another child and that's all thank you 💖

Thank you for the request anon 🔅

AND I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLIED 😔🙏😭 IM SO BUSY AND MY HEAD IS NOT HELPING 😭😭 😞😞

Also imma use gn reader so yall can enjoy

Tw/cw: curse words, idk, poor English and grammar

(Platonic yandere Batfamily with normal reader)----------------------------

You hop out of the car followed by your mother. Your step father stays in the car. You grip your baggage tightly.

At first you thought you were just a normal kid. You didn't know who's your real father is. But your mother says that your father has got into an accident and lends him into the funeral.

you were so tiny and naive, you didn't believe her, saying that your father is out there. But your mom really really tells you that your father is dead.

Eventually you believe her, and now.

You didn't believe it, you were standing in front of the huge manor. With your mom and your baggage.

Before that she just suddenly announced that your father is bruce wayne. FUCKING BRUCE WAYNE? THE BILLIONAIRE??

You ask your mother "why didn't you tell me sooner? I thought my dad was really dead!"

"oh my dear you were not ready before, all i have to do is to lie to you."

Okay you were mad. Cuz your mother has lied to you the whole time. Telling how your 'father was really dead'

And here you are at the wayne manor, with some old butler andddd your 'dad' in which you already know him.

The old butler, alfred pennyworth. And your dad? Oh you already know your dad's name, bruce wayne.

Your mother tells the old butler name to you before arriving at the place. Your grip at the baggage handle was tightened.

"it's been awhile.. bruce.. alfred." your mother speaks. Her eyes locking on bruce, both of their eyes hardened.

"(Ur mom's name) I see you still the same since the last i see you" bruce speaks.

The butler just nodded.

Your mother chuckle. "Oh I'm flattered"

Bruce eyes land into you, you put on all the smiles "so this must be?"

"yeah, As we were talking about before, this is (name) your child" she grabbed your shoulder.

"(name) right?"

"yeah.. that's me.."

He nodded, "no need to be nervous my dear." He smiles at you.

You nod. Giving him a little smile.

"so that my job here has done, I'll be going" but your mom pauses, she leans at your ear "have fun sweetheart" and then muah, she turns her heels and drives away.

Leaving you with your dad and the butler.

A hand rests on your shoulder, you turn your head to the person touching it. It was your dad, he gave you a reassuring smile.

"let's get in shall we?" You nodded return your own smile to him. Maybe he wasn't so bad though? you always wanted a dad.

Alfred opens the door for you both, you let your dad lend inside the house. The house was already big from the inside and luxurious.

You were in awe, and bruce, he was in awe too because you.

You look innocent. You don't have a trauma like his other kids have. No harsh training, no cautious feelings, no scar all over your body.

It's like you were just normal. You're really having a normal life like how kids should have. Well it pisses him off to know that he doesn't know that you were exit before.

And how he hates your mother for that. For keeping his child away from him. Much like talia does with damian and him.

His grip on your shoulder was tightened a little bit. He cleared his throat, catching your attention.

You gaze at him. He observes your face for a minute . Your face was really the same as him, but you got your mother's eyes.

"do you mind having a tour in this place? Don't worry Alfred can take care of your things" he gives you a smile.

"ah! Yeah! Yeah dad, I don't mind, so i don't have to be lost in my new home" you joked a bit, he let out a chuckle. Bruce heart It felt warm when you called him dad.

And then he began to walk with you as he started to be your tour guide. Telling you all the places. The movie room. Dining room. Kitchen. Etc.

The manor was really huge.

As he finishes to give you a manor tour he begins to guide you to your room now. Your room was simple but rich. Your things were placed by alfred.

"alright (name), i hope you are comfortable living here, and don't forget to get to know your siblings later, they are busy right now but you will meet them at dinner, see you" he gives you a quick hug before you close the door.

siblings huh, you wonder what they would be like when you met them later, you plop on the bed, feeling the soft mattress on your body. Your body relaxed.

You take out your phone to kill your boredom. Maybe you decorate your room later. It will be more cozy.

_____

Bruce step echoed in the hallway. His mind is full with you. He will consider to dig information into your personal live.

His step stopped when a voice called him.

"father."

He turn to the voice. It was damian, he already has his hand crossed. His face looked serious. Bruce know that damian saw you. he didn't approach you first instead he go to bruce. Demanding an explanation.

"damian.."

Bruce let out a sigh. Damian raise an eyebrow.

"I Know you're confuse but let me get this straight" he pause as he come closer to damian. He lay his hand on damian shoulder.

"they are your new siblings."

"you adopting another-"

"their not adopted damian. They're your siblings."

"what?"

"blood siblings"

Damian pause a little. Blood siblings? Does bruce does something stupid again?

"blood siblings?" He repeat the words in his tongue.

"yes. Blood siblings. but they're different. You'll meet them at dinner"

Damian squinted his eyes. Oh he has to wait for dinner now? He's curious now.

Bruce sigh. "I Know it might be hard for you to understand. But you will, damian"

Bruce put his hand on the boy's shoulder. Patting it a bit "i got work to do, I'll be at the office when you need anything, Damian"

Bruce then let go of the boy shoulder. And walk away through his office. Damian stares at bruce back until he disappears.

_________

Dinner finally comes. You jolt awake from the knock on your door. You fell asleep.

"mr/miss/mx (name) it's time for dinner" alfred speak behind the door.

"yes alfred! In a minute" you replied as you sat up on your bed. You kinda feel nervous , meeting all your siblings. And you really feel an anxiety building up in your guts.

You exhale, you stand up, open the door and walk downstairs. You can hear a chatter as you begin to walk closer to the Dining room.

As you finally arrived, all the siblings were in their seat. Waiting for you. You slowly smile.

All of them look at you as you arrive, also giving a smile. Except for damian who always wears those scowls.

Bruce wave for you "(name)! Glad you joined us for dinner" you come closer to the long table, sitting beside bruce who is on the head table.

On your right, is a charming man with a soft smile. He Say "hi!" as you meet his eye.

"hi.." you replied.

"I'm dick Grayson, Bruce's first child, you must be (name) that Bruce talked about, it's nice to meet you" he said to you as he patted your shoulder

You nodded "yeah that's me"

"let me introduce the other one for you!"

"That's Jason" dick pointed at him. he gives you an eyebrow raise. you kinda surprised of his scarred face especially with the j mark on his left cheek, but you don't wanna to offend him, so you give him a nod and a smile.

"That's tim." Dick pointed at him. He wave, you wave back.

"that's Stephanie" dick point at Stephanie smiles eagerly and waves at you "hiii (name)!!" You wave back and smile.

"Cassandra" he points at her, cass just give you a quiet smile.

"duke" he pointed at duke, duke wave at you, and did the same

"and lastly damian the youngest" he pointed at Damian whose scowl never changed, but it did when you give him a gentle smile.

The dinner goes normal, the siblings talk to you about your, what you like and all.

Basically they are all funny and cool.

Dinner ends with a full belly. Alfred cooking is the best. All of you are saying goodnight to their room some of them want to go outside cus their friends called. Bruce's gonna go to his work office.

And you also feel kinda sleepy, the food was so good it makes you sleepy.

You come back to your bed and plop on the soft mattress. You look at the ceiling, maybe it's not so bad living like this.

You soon Asleep, a soft snore coming out of your mouth as you sleep peacefully.

_________________

Meanwhile the batfam.

In the cave. "Okay b. Did you seriously fuck another woman and you didn't even know you wear A FREAKING CONDOM!?" Dick yelled at bruce as he began to sit on his bat computer

"language."

"well you freaking us out right now" jason chimed in.

"tt. You are irresponsible" damian cross his arm

"right, maybe we should ban him from drinking with a woman again, because if we shouldn't, he'll be having another relationship and boom! another child."

"okay, but (name) is lowkey fun to hangout with tho" duke speaks as he puts on his yellow armor.

"yeah! I mean like, they look like they don't have any trauma orr living in an assassin organization" Stephanie speak.

"tsk" damian scowled.

"no offense tho.."

Bruce sighs, as his children begin to talk and talk out loud of how he shouldn't be drinking rn.

"(name) is different. and I'm glad for them to be like that" he speaks as the siblings begin to freeze.

"bruce right, (name) is fun to talk to." cass chimed in, her silent presence is usual.

"well then should we never tell them that we are vigilante?"

"not yet."

"or maybe no.'

_________________________________________________

GAWD YESS FINALLY I FINISH THISS, I'M SO SORRY ANON FOR WRITING THIS LATE 😭😭😭

I hope you like it and I'm really really sorry for the late reply. And also the sudden hiatus.

I hope you all like this cringe fic 🔅Don't forget to reblog like or even comment 🔅🔅

[honeylations]

YU JIMIN x FEM!READER

Prompt: You’ve dreamt of dating a cool, hot, sexy vampire, but why did the world decide to give you the biggest loser vampire?

Warnings/Notes: g!p Vampire Jimin, crack, eventual smut, loser Jimin, human reader, mommy kink, subby Jimin

It was 7am in the morning when you woke up to your alarm blaring in your ears, encouraging you to open your tired eyes. Sitting up, you saw your vampire girlfriend sitting cross legged by the edge while staring at you with a pout.

Right, you were angry at her for the stunt she pulled yesterday.

She baked you cookies as a reward for getting through your exams but your roommate, Huh Yunjin, ate it all like the fatass she was. Yunjin didn’t know they were for you but it didn’t stop the anger boiling within Jimin as she dragged your red headed friend to the backyard of the house and tied her to a tree with debris sitting beneath her feet.

Jimin said that in the vampire realm, anyone who stole another’s belongings were to be punished by being burnt alive.

You remember returning home that day from a lecture the moment Jimin struck the match, screaming at the top of your lungs for her to stop whatever she was starting.

Then remembering her sulking face and how she cleaned up her mess with pure sadness and fear after being scolded by you.

You haven’t acknowledged her presence since and Jimin has been trying to do everything she can to have you talk to her again.

“Good morning love!” Jimin beamed and puckering her lips for her good morning kiss but you stood up from the bed, completely ignoring her so you can wash up in the bathroom.

The vampire flopped face first into the bed and whined.

Yunjin heard the commotion and peeped through the door with crossed arms. “She’s still mad at you?”

“Yes and it’s all your fault!” Jimin’s loud voice was muffled from the mattress she was squishing her face in.

Yunjin caught the words though. “How was I supposed to know they were for your girlfriend?! How about put a note next time!”

“How about have some common human decency and ask before shoving everything in your mouth?! You mortals are dumber than rats!” Jimin finally sat up.

“Your cookies were shit anyways!”

“Shitty cookies that you entirely ate, FATASS!”

You appeared from the bathroom with frustration. “SHUT UP BOTH OF YOU!”

Both girls immediately shut their mouths, but Jimin continued on to flop her face back into the mattress to cry like a dying whale.

“Oh god, Jimin Unnie don’t cry” Yunjin sighed.

“Go sit in the corner Jimin. And think about what you did yesterday and why it was wrong for you to even try and burn Yunjin alive” You ordered, arms crossed over your chest.

Jimin shuffled out of the bed and obeyed. She dragged herself to the corner of your shared bedroom and sat down, leaning her forehead against the wall.

“And stay there until I say so”

“Yes ma’am” Jimin managed to squeak out.

The vampire pouted and played with her fingers to pass the time while you went out to your full day lecture on campus with Yunjin.

As you two walked down the halls, Yunjin turned to look at you. “Y/n, I know it was a scary situation but Jimin Unnie means well. She already apologised…well I mean because you forced her to but anyways, I forgive her and you can stop being mad at her now”

“I’m not letting it slide that easy Jen. She needs to reflect on her behaviour”

“Maybe you’re being a bit too harsh on her”

“You want to be sitting in the corner with her then?”

“I shall close my mouth and never speak again”

Yunjin’s words did echo in your mind throughout the day, making you reconsider the way you were treating your girlfriend at the moment.

You had to remind yourself that all Jimin wanted was to make you cookies but she let anger take over her decisions in the wrong way.

The thought got you dozing off during lectures, at lunch, and even as you were walking out of the campus with Yunjin still by your side.

“Stopped being mad at Jimin Unnie yet?”

You groaned into your palms. “I’m a horrible girlfriend”

“What? Hey no! What made you even come to that conclusion. Jimin Unnie thinks you put the stars in the sky!”

“I should’ve just talked it out with her instead of giving her the cold shoulder. She must think I hate her or something”

Yunjin grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you around. “Y/n please shut up. You managed to pull a vampire that wanted to kill every human she saw in the first place. Now all that vampire wants is to be by your side forever to love and protect you! I’m damn jealous about your wattpad life right now”

“I’m gonna ignore the wattpad thing you said”

“Apart from almost burning me alive, Jimin Unnie is one hell of a loser too. She’d do anything to make you happy even if it meant jumping off a cliff”

“Don’t say stuff like that around her please, she’ll literally do it” you face palmed after a memory flashed in your mind of Jimin almost throwing herself in front of a train just to prove she loved you.

“Now why don’t we put the past behind us and get your girlfriend bags of blood as an apology? I’m pretty sure she’d be hungry by now. You left her in the corner since this morning”

You froze on the spot and looked up at Yunjin wide eyed. It didn’t take a couple seconds for the red head’s eyes to match yours before you both started sprinting back to the house.

“We’re so dumb!”

Barging into the front door, you made your way upstairs to your bedroom and saw your girlfriend still sitting in the exact same position from when you left her. Setting your bag to the side, you hugged her from behind and took in a big whiff of her scent.

“Oh my baby, I’m so sorry for leaving you here”

Jimin turned around and buried her face into your chest. “Are you still angry at me?”

“No not anymore baby” you cooed, comfortably threading your fingers through her black locks.

“Are we going to be okay?”

You kissed her head. “Absolutely. Always”

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes of course! I’ve never stopped loving you, Jimin-ah”

You cupped your girlfriend’s face and repeatedly kissed all over it until she was covered in lipstick marks. Then you led her to cuddle with you in bed, letting her rest her entire body on top of yours.

She snuggled her head into your neck. “I’m still a little sad about the cookies, my love”

“I know, I’m sorry Yunjin ate them. Thank you for making it though”

“You studied so hard for the exams…I wanted to impress you”

Your heart was aching. How could you have yelled at your dork?

“Let me make it up to you, okay?”

Jimin was about to question you but you had already moved her to lay on the bed while you straddled her lap.

“Yunjin can you go buy some blood bags for Jimin?!” You yelled loud enough for your roommate to hear.

“On it! Be back in a bit!” Yunjin quickly answered from her own room, hearing her footsteps fade until she shut the front door and fully left the house.

“That should buy us enough time—“

A notification rung from your phone. You took a glance at the Lock Screen and saw a message from Yunjin which got you a bit confused until you read what she had sent.

[Yunjinnie 🐍: I already know where this is going. Enjoy that 7 inch vampire sausage]

“Fucking sick ass” you muttered, not noticing your girlfriend was looking at your phone too.

“Tell her I’m 7 and a half inches, babe. Not just 7”

You shook your head and softly kissed her. “Don’t worry about Yunjin, she’s a shit head”

“I’ve already established that when she ate your cookies”

Your girlfriend’s frown got you chuckling. “You’re still on about that? Don’t worry, we’ll bake them together someday. But for now, just sit back and relax. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm yes ma’am”

You pulled your girlfriend pants and boxers slightly down just so you can whip out her cock and stroke it while staring into your girlfriend’s eyes. “Good?”

“M-Mhm…” Jimin hummed.

She bit on her bottom lip, clawing at the sheets when you sped up your hand fisted around her dick. “N-Not enough…can I please have it inside you, Y/nie? Please…” Jimin’s words came out breathlessly, trying her absolute best to look into your eyes but the pleasurable feeling was making it difficult.

“Such a good girl for saying please” you smirked that got Jimin dizzy.

“Please…I don’t wanna cum unless it’s inside you m-mommy”

You were taken back from the nickname even though your hand was still jerking her off crazily. God, your vampire really was a loser.

Instead of answering, you sloppily made out with the vampire, only breaking apart so you can strip yourself out of your clothes.

In a blink you were hovering your wet opening above Jimin’s hard cock, feeling like you were being torn in half when you sat on the tip. The pain gradually got worse when you were fully seated, head resting on Jimin’s chest whereas your hands were holding onto her shoulders for dear life.

“Ah w-what the fuck? H-Hurts so much” you sniffled as Jimin rubbed your back.

“It’s been so long since we made love, Y/n-ie. Don’t rush yourself okay?”

“I liked it when you called me mommy” you managed to giggle through the pain.

“Take your time mommy”

Jimin was so patient with you just sitting on her dick for a few minutes so your pussy could accomodate her size. It felt like you were having sex for the first time. Your girlfriend continued to kiss your neck even when you finally had the energy to move up and then sliding back down with an electrifying pleasure coursing through your body.

“O-Oh…Jimin you feel so good inside me”

“I wanna make mommy feel good”

“You are baby. Being a good girl for mommy” you gasped with an arched back.

Jimin took this as an advantage to suck on your tits like she’s been starved. Well she technically did kind of starve today when you made her sit in that corner and completely forgot about her.

“Fuck…mommy…my love..Can I fuck you? Don’t want you to get tired”

Oh your loser vampire girlfriend was such a gentlewoman. Who were you to say no?

Jimin leaned back with her feet planted flat on the bed so she could thrust her hips up in a fast motion that got you bouncing. Your moving tits got Jimin lost in a trance and she couldn’t help on sucking them again.

She was watching you throw your head back in pure bliss, mouth dropped open releasing Jimin’s favourite sounds. “Can I cum inside mommy please?”

“Y-Yes please baby. I want it all—Oh shit!”

Jimin was literally jack hammering inside you with that crazy vampire stamina she had. The pleasure was so overwhelming that you didn’t catch the way your girlfriend’s eyes began to turn red and were fixated on your exposed hickey-covered neck.

Her mouth began to open and her fangs were presented.

“M-Mommy…I-I really need your blood. C-Can I bite? I’ll make it better afterwards, I promise”

Hearing Jimin beg sent you over the edge. You held one hand on her nape and pushed her face into your neck. “Fuck yes! Bite mommy, baby. Drink my blood and fuck my pussy like a good girl!”

Jimin growled and didn’t need to be told twice in sinking her teeth into your neck. She moaned along with you as your blood flowed into her mouth deliciously. You clenched around her twitching cock and dug your nails into her shoulders when the hot ropes of cum filled you up.

You were creaming all over dick that it rained down her pelvis.

Your girlfriend pulled away as the orgasm died down, licking up the mess on your neck and finishing it off with a gentle kiss on the fang marks.

You fell limp into her body to catch your breath and Jimin’s hand was caressing your back again. “Are you okay, my love?”

“Better than okay, Jiminie…”

“Did it feel good?”

“The best, baby”

“Yay”

You pulled back and looked at her face in disbelief. “Yay?”

Jimin looked down sheepishly. “I’m glad I made you feel good, baby. I love you”

“Yunjin was right. You’re a loser stuck in a hot vampire body”

The vampire’s eyes went into puppy mode at your statement. “Am I your loser at least?”

“My one and only loser” you laughed and leaned in to claim her lips once again, getting a slight taste of your blood.

*Knock Knock*

“Heyyyy sorry to be like…interrupting, but I got the blood bags. I’m assuming you’re not hungry anymore Jimin Unnie” Yunjin spoke from outside the room, her voice slightly muffled.

Even with the door blocking you from seeing Yunjin, you can already see the smirk plastered on her stupid face.

“Nope”

“Rightio. They’ll be in the fridge. Hope you take that pill Y/n! You two are too young to be parents”

“Jimin is 600 years old”

“Yeah I’m 600 years old”

“And even if we did become parents, we’d be the best parents ever”

“Yeah, the best parents ever!”

“Yeah I didn’t ask. I’m not letting my best friend become a mom while she can barely pay her rent”

“oh fuck off Yunjin!” You screamed while Yunjin shrugged and indeed fuck off to her room.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Shadow the hedgehog x tall mobian reader

“Unexpected Love.”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Tall Mobian Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: No one expected Shadow the Hedgehog to date, let alone date a mobian taller than him. But fate has a weird way to it, doesn’t it?

Notes: Okay- the request was just “Shadow x Tall Mobian Reader” so I get to be creative with this one. I hope I do it well for ya, Anon!

(Reader shall be gender-neutral and will actually have lines!)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

“Okay, breathe in, [Name]. It’s just a coffee date,” you say to yourself. “He may not call it a date, but it’s a date. Don’t screw this up.”

You adjust your turtleneck, making sure your fur looks nice, before you hear a knock on the door.

“Coming!” You say, rushing over to the door. When you open it, your friend Shadow the Hedgehog is standing there. You swear his quills are a bit more fluffy than usual, but you brush the thought away.

“Hey Shadow! Ready for our hangout?” You ask him.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he states, and you let out a chuckle.

You lock the door behind you, placing your keys in your pocket, and the two of you head off to the café, Shadow holding open the door for you, thanking him in return.

You two order your coffee (with Shadow getting a bit of tiramisu as well and you getting a slice of red velvet), and you two take a seat, chatting about any recent events.

After a bit, your orders arrive, and the two of you thank the waitress, digging into your food and coffee.

While eating, you notice that Shadow has a few crumbs on his muzzle.

You reach a hand over and he flinches, but you quickly rub the crumbs off his muzzle.

“And…there. All clean,” you say, retracting your hand.

Shadow’s face seems to be green (which you found out is because he has black arms blood), flustered, and he turns his attention back to his food.

Realizing what you did, your muzzle houses a large blush.

“U-Uh, s-sorry, I should have asked first,” you apologize.

“It’s fine,” he says, clearing his throat.

His gaze falls to your slice of red velvet cake, which you notice.

“…Would you like a bite?” You ask him.

His blush being less than before, he averts his eyes and lets off a small nod.

You cut a small piece of the cake off with your fork and offer it to him.

He opens his mouth and you can see his sharp fangs for a moment before he takes the bite, moving back to his spot and chewing.

This guy is going to be the death of you with how cute he is.

And he’s not even your boyfriend (yet).

He swallows his bite, thinking for a moment.

“It’s…sweet,” he says before murmuring, “Just like you.”

“E-Excuse me?” You ask, making sure you’re not hearing things.

“Nothing,” he says. Though the way his face is still bright green says otherwise.

“…Well, I can’t be more sweet than you,” you tell him.

His eyes widen and somehow his face gets greener, and he quickly looks away from you.

Letting out a soft chuckle, you get up from your seat and go over to him, leaning down slightly and giving him a kiss where his red stripe ends on his head.

He looks you in the eyes, like he’s expecting you to say something. So you do.

Here goes nothing.

“…I’ve actually liked you for a while now,” you tell him. “In- In a romantic way. I would understand if you don’t feel the same-”

Shadow cuts you off by pulling you down by your arm until your face reaches his, and he kisses you on the cheek.

“I like you too, idiot,” he tells you.

Your face houses a surprised expression for a moment before you smile at him, one he reciprocates, though much smaller than yours.

The two of you eventually leave the café holding hands (which seems a bit awkward due to you being a foot taller than him), but you make it work.

Now the two of you will be in each other’s lives and hearts, until the end of time.

[dreamdragonkadia]

As Written Above, So Shall It Be Below Part - II.I Word Count: 4.0k A/N: I'm on a roll with this fic. Feedback, comments, thoughts, and theories are always appreciated! Main Pairing: Rhysand/Reader/Feyre Prev - Next ✦ Ao3

How do you honor a dead Lady?

Prayers?

Fires?

Leaving her favorite pastries by that quiet lake she loved, hoping the scent might somehow reach her across the veil?

For someone as intimately familiar with grief as Azriel was—someone who had walked through death more times than he could count—this grief lodged in his chest in a way nothing else ever had, settled in the same spot as if Rhysand’s mother and sister died all over again.

He’d tried. Mother, he’d tried. For Rhys, who had barely spoken about it again since his return that first day and he told them all what happened. For Cassian, who threw himself into training so violently Az had to pull him out of the ring before he destroyed something—or someone. For Mor, who shut the doors to her chambers for three straight days and only opened them again when he brought her the wine you'd once sworn she’d hoard if the world ended.

But mostly—he tried for you.

He’d imagined what you’d say if you saw them unraveling.

“If you even dare let this court fall to pieces because I kicked the bucket, I’ll come back from the dead just to stab every one of you.”

You’d meant it, too. Gods, he could see you—hands on your hips, that haughty smirk on your face, as if death was nothing more than an inconvenience you’d eventually bully into submission.

So he gave himself a week. One week to mourn you.

Seven days of slipping into silence. Of flying to the places you used to haunt—the library balcony, the cliffs above the sea, the roof of the Court of Nightmares where you’d once dragged him for “peace and quiet” while you spied on the drama unfolding below.

You’d grin over the rim of your cup and say, “Spymaster, ShadowSinger, Prince of Brooding—gods help us if they knew you liked lavender tarts.”

He didn’t like them. Not really.

He just liked that you did.

And then a week turned into two. And then two into two months.

And it started to settle in. Not the kind of grief that screams and breaks. But the kind that lingers. That lives in the silence after someone says something funny and you turn, ready to share it with them—only to remember they’re not there.

That was the worst of it.

Because no one else had filled the space you left behind.

Not for Azriel.

Who else would he share the wildest Court gossip with and not feel ridiculous doing it? Who else would wink at him across a room, raise an eyebrow, and silently convey every sarcastic thought in your head before he’d even opened his mouth?

He didn’t tell anyone else what he learned now—not the juicy things, not the petty things. Only Amren asked. Because Amren knew.

She’d raise an eyebrow and mutter, “She would’ve loved this,” when he muttered some ridiculous tale of scandal from Hewn City.

And Az would just grunt, trying not to let it show that the silence after hurt more than the story itself.

There had been afternoons—hundreds of them, if he let himself count—when the two of you had lounged on sun-warmed balconies or curled in shadowy corners of the House of Wind, sipping tea and wine and trading secrets like coins. You, barefoot in your silk robes, legs tucked beneath you with all the elegance of a Queen and none of the formality. Him, still in leathers, shadows clinging to his shoulders, pretending to be uninterested in your antics—though it was always him who lingered longest.

“You’re the only male I trust not to ruin my tea set,” you’d teased once, swirling your cup like it held far more than tea.

“That’s because Cassian shattered three,” he’d muttered.

“And Rhys poured wine in the sugar jar.”

“He said it was an experiment.”

“He said it was romantic.”

You both had laughed.

And now… you were gone.

Gone so completely, so violently, without fanfare or warning, that perhaps he’d never known how to grieve you properly. That perhaps none of them had. The Inner Circle had fought wars and monsters, had faced a thousand different versions of sorrow.

You were not meant to be one of the losses.

Even Rhys, who had twenty years to process, and still nearly lost himself to the thought of it. The rest of them had two months to accept the silence.

Two months to unlearn the sound of your voice in rooms you once filled.

Azriel had tried to make peace with it. For your sake. For the court’s.

He told himself you'd want them to move forward, to keep going, to protect what mattered.

And yet—when the High Lady was first brought to the Night Court, half-wild and afraid, his very first thought wasn’t of how to secure her help or assess her power.

It was to find The Lady of the Night.

To ask how to make her feel more welcome.

Because it had always been you who knew what to say to strangers. You who could read a room in a single glance, then wield your words with surgical precision or devastating kindness. You who saw through armor better than anyone, even him.

But you weren’t there.

He hadn’t wanted Feyre to feel like a replacement. Hadn’t wanted her to feel the shadow of you hanging over her shoulder. So he’d said nothing. They had said nothing. He thought they all would remain silent until Rhysand chose to tell her.

But it hadn’t been Rhys.

It had been Mor.

She’d told Feyre one night, unprompted, in front of a portrait in that same soft fierceness she always used when talking about people she loved. Azriel hadn’t been there when it happened, but he knew the way Mor would’ve spoken—honest, reverent, a little sad around the edges.

And Feyre…

She hadn’t flinched from it.

Hadn’t been made smaller by your memory. She’d simply taken it in, let it settle, and carried it with grace.

And somehow, after that, something shifted.

Azriel found a strange sense of peace in Feyre—not because she filled the space you left, but because she never tried to.

Helping her train, teaching her to fly, guiding her through the endless frustration of learning to navigate her new body—it gave him purpose. A way to be useful again.

And maybe, in some quiet way, it helped him mourn.

And it hadn’t been Cassian or Amren that Feyre went to after her return from spring. Once she was sure her sisters were safe.

It had been him.

She found him on the balcony just before dawn, the wind curling through his wings. Her steps had been cautious, not hesitant—but respectful.

“I’m sorry,” she had said softly, voice barely louder than the wind.

And Azriel had known, without asking, what she meant.

She wasn’t apologizing for being High Lady.

She was apologizing for not discussing the marriage with them.

For stepping into a space they once imagined belonged to you.

But it was never about one replacing the other.

You were the Last Lady of the Night. That was what Amren still called without apology. That title—your title—had not been stripped or passed on. Feyre was their High Lady. Rhysand’s mate. The rightful ruler of a court she helped save.

There was no resentment in Azriel. No bitterness. No jealousy.

He had never once blamed Rhysand. Never blamed Feyre.

A part of him, even, was glad. Genuinely. That Rhys could know happiness. That the court could be rebuilt stronger after the war. That Feyre had brought them light.

And Feyre… She had never tried to erase you. She encouraged them to speak of you when they could. When they needed. She had looked him in the eye that morning and said, “She mattered to all of you. I would never ask you to pretend she didn’t.”

It had stunned him, how simply she understood.

He hadn’t known what to say at first. The words weren’t there, not fully formed. But eventually, as the sun began to crest the horizon, he found himself murmuring,

“You two would’ve balanced each other. Personalities, I mean.”

Feyre had smiled—small, sad, knowing.

Maybe that’s why he’d told her.

Why the next words slipped out before he had time to second-guess them.

“Did Rhys tell you she was older than us?”

Feyre blinked, clearly not expecting him to share anything more.

“No,” she said gently.

“The betrothal contract was signed when Rhys was eight. She was seventeen. We met her for the first time when Rhys was twelve. The last High Lord finally stopped stalling and brought her to the Illyrian camps.”

He could still remember that day. Every detail.

You’d walked into the training ring like you didn’t care that the snow was half-melted or that mud clung to your boots. Like you didn’t notice the way every male there had gone silent the moment you appeared.

You’d been beautiful, of course. All High Fae were, to some degree—but you had something else. That stillness. That grace. That regality that made even Cassian shut his mouth. For a moment, at least.

Dangerous. Cold. Composed.

Azriel had expected you to be like the others—distant, stiff, too proud to look twice at a camp full of winged brutes.

And then you’d tilted your head, looked straight at Cassian, and said:

“You look like trouble.”

It had startled a laugh out of Rhysand. Cassian had puffed up with mock offense.

And you had just smiled—not cold, not haughty. Just amused. Like you’d already decided they weren’t beneath you. Like you’d seen something in them worth noticing.

“Rhys’s mother hated the arrangement,” he added after a beat. “Wouldn’t let him return to Velaris long enough to meet her properly if she could help it. Kept hoping it would all fall apart. At first at least.” 

It hadn’t been a secret—not really.

Everyone knew the former Lady of the Night Court had resented the match, no matter how politically smart it had been. But politics had never impressed her much, and she hadn’t liked the idea of someone being chosen for her son. Especially someone she hadn’t approved of herself.

Cassian had reminded you of that fact every couple of years—usually when you teased him too hard or made him suffer through another formal event in polished armor and a tight cravat. He’d elbow you in the ribs and mutter, “You know, you weren’t even supposed to stick around.”

And you—Mother, you’d grin like you’d just won a war. A smug, feral little thing, flashing teeth and mischief and pride.

“But guess who ended up being her favorite?” you’d sing-song, sticking your tongue out at him with no regard for rank or dignity.

Azriel didn’t smile, not now, but the memory lit in his chest like an ember.

It wasn’t his story to tell—not the whole of it. Not the reasons why you’d become the Lady of the Night long before you ever officially wore the title.

Not how, after the first meeting, you had been the one winnowing in and out under High Lord orders. Quietly. Efficiently.

To check in.

To report back.

To observe.

You’d hated it. Gods, how you’d hated it.

Not the court, not the males—just the cold.

You made that fact perfectly clear, too. Never subtle, not with the way you bundled yourself in thick furs and spelled your boots to be self-heating. Rhys’s little sister, Estelle, had been the one to rat you out—tugging on Azriel’s arm one winter morning and whispering with a conspiratorial smile, “She says she’d rather be thrown in a volcano than have to watch another snowstorm roll through. Don’t tell her I told you.”

But Estelle had loved you. You’d visit her as often as you were allowed. She’d wanted to know her brother’s betrothed, had insisted.

And so you’d come. Again and again.

Winnowing through snowstorms with ice in your hair and a scowl on your face, dragging news and updates and biting sarcasm behind you like a cloak. You never complained directly—not in front of Rhys, at least—but Azriel remembered the way your hands never left your coat, the way your nose was always red, and how your curses in the cold became increasingly creative with each visit.

And still, you came.

Again and again.

And somewhere between those reluctant visits and those scouting trips into Illyria, between the way you learned every name in the camp and the way you watched their sparring matches with arms crossed and eyes noting details, you stopped being the political stranger they were told to tolerate…

And started becoming theirs.

The shift was subtle. Gradual. The kind of change that only makes sense in hindsight.

And maybe it became undeniable the first time Rhys’s mother had brought out her sewing kit one evening and began to stitch.

No one had dared ask at first.

But the truth slipped out in the way she muttered about “proper materials” for Illyrian winters and how “that girl’s coats are utterly useless.”

She didn’t say your name. She didn’t have to.

Because the next time you arrived, your coat had been replaced with one of her making. Lined with thick black velvet, buttons enchanted against frostbite, and seams so tight they wouldn’t let the wind through if it begged.

And she’d hovered. Gods, she’d hovered. Adjusting the collar. Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. Muttering about how "you’d catch your death otherwise."

Dotting on you like a mother hen.

And that was when they knew—when they all knew—that she had accepted it.

That she had accepted you.

Not because she’d been told to. Not because of a contract.

But because somewhere in those snow-covered camps and quiet exchanges, you’d become real to her.

Not a title. Not a duty. Someone.

And later when Rhys turned eighteen, it became clear just how deep that shift had settled.

His mother had told him, without room for argument, that the first dance of his birthday celebration would go to his betrothed. To you.

And no one questioned it. Not Rhys. Not Cassian. Not Azriel.

Because by then, there was no doubt.

You’d become a part of them.

And when the High Lord had grown fearful—had split Azriel from his brother to keep the court’s weapons separate—it was you he worked with most.

He had found something like peace in telling Feyre little things about you in passing. Letting himself accept the truth of your absence.

Until the night Mor found him.

She’d come to the lake just outside Velaris, breathless and pale, and spoken your name. Just once.

It was all it took.

And then—Elain’s words. The portrait. The vision. The way Mor’s voice trembled when she said, "Say I’m wrong. Say it’s impossible."

Azriel had listened to it all, stone-faced and silent.

And though he hadn’t said it aloud—hadn’t needed to—the stillness of his shadows, the way they pulled closer, tighter, was answer enough.

He hadn’t denied it.

Because deep down, in the quiet places even he rarely acknowledged…

He had wondered, too.

And when Mor finally whispered, “If there’s even a chance…”

He’d looked out over the water, exhaled slowly—

And said, “There’s a rumor.”

It had started during his investigation of the mortal queens, a sliver of information buried beneath layers of lies and manipulation. At the time, it had seemed like just another tactic—something Hybern had planted to distract, to confuse, to throw their enemies into disarray. And yet… something about it had stuck with him. 

And then, during the battle, they arrived.

Fae who had once been marked as fallen. As lost. As dead.

They came with Vassa, the mortal queen cloaked in fire, who walked beside those who should not have walked at all.

Azriel had watched them enter the camp, watched the way they held themselves—too quiet, too careful. Watched the way their eyes scanned the crowd, not searching for allies, but avoiding the ones who might recognize what they weren’t saying.

He had approached.

Asked the questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to have answered.

And they had only looked at him. Not with pity. Not with cruelty.

Just silence.

Intentional silence.

The kind that made his shadows curl tighter around him. The kind that said more than words ever could.

They knew something.

And none of them would speak.

But Azriel had seen it—that flicker of recognition, so brief most would’ve missed it. The twitch in one Fae’s mouth when your name passed his lips. The way another avoided his eyes, too quick to excuse herself. And the third—the one who glanced toward the sea like it might reveal a truth he wasn’t brave enough to say aloud. It had been subtle, careful. But not careful enough. He was the Shadowsinger. He noticed what others didn’t. And what he saw in those silences was enough.

Mor had not brought it up again. He hadn’t told a soul. And no one had questioned him when he said there were rumors to follow, things that didn’t quite add up, stories left unfinished in the aftermath of war. No one asked what those rumors were.

It had taken longer than he expected to slip past the magical defenses encasing the borders of the Kingdom of Scythia. Not human-made, not even new. These were old wards—woven with purpose, with age, with a kind of knowing only Fae magic possessed. The kind meant to keep eyes like his away. And it almost did. But Azriel was patient. Shadows knew how to wait. And so did he.

For a time, he only observed. Let his shadows weave through the marketplace, the temples, the gardens and palaces, listening as if the air itself might confess something. There were Fae here, that much was clear—some from every court, mingling with humans as if no war had ever passed between them. Comfortable. Settled. As though the divisions that had carved their world in two had never mattered here. Yet no one spoke of you directly. Not by name.

There were whispers, though. Talks of their Lady among Vassa’s inner circle—one not bound by title or bloodline. A woman whose voice could silence a room, who walked through fire and shadow without blinking. Azriel almost left then. The information was valuable, more than enough to return with. Something Rhys needed to know. And he had almost turned away, until he felt it.

It wasn’t a word. Not a voice in his mind. It was... a sensation. Younger. Curious. Like being watched by a presence—one that felt oddly familiar, like catching a note of a song you hadn’t heard a full tune for. The echo of Rhysand’s magic—but it wasn’t him. It was something else. Someone else. And then—just like that—it was gone. Cut off.

Still, he waited. Another three days. And on the third, the court began to shift. New enchantments. New wards. The Dawn Court was coming. The castle readied itself for guests, and the magic in the walls responded accordingly. And then—his shadows stirred.

Familiar magic moved through the air, brushing against him like a sigh through silk. Recognition struck so fast he didn’t have time to think, only feel. His shadows peeled away from him, darting into the darkness like hounds catching a scent, and he didn’t stop them.

He moved through the palace like smoke, silent and unseen, his footsteps swallowed by stone and darkness. He didn’t question where he was going. His shadows had found something. 

Barefoot in the garden. Face tilted to the stars as if they were telling a story. The world so still besides the shadows that flickered across your shoulders. 

And Azriel… he couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

The crushing weight in his chest returned with a vengeance—as if he was being told for the first time all over again that you were gone. Only now, that grief was warping, twisting—turning into something too vast to name.

You were here.

He stepped forward, his voice catching somewhere between disbelief and inevitability, the words slipping out of him like they had waited for permission.

“You’re alive.”

Then he dropped. One knee to the earth, as if his body remembered how to honor you before his mind could catch up. It wasn’t planned—it was instinct. Respect. Reverence. The kind of devotion that couldn’t be shaken by time or distance or death. His gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to lift, because if he looked up… if he looked at you and you weren’t really there, if this was some cruel trick—he wasn’t sure he’d recover.

The garden was quiet, save for the whisper of leaves.

Then, gently, the grass shifted in front of him. A whisper of fabric stirred in the breeze, and he caught sight of the hem of a dark nightdress. Then, a hand. Gentle. Warm. Fingers curling over his shoulder with a tenderness that shattered something deep in his chest.

Your voice broke softly across the silence.

“…Hello, Azriel.”

It cracked at the edges, like it wasn’t used to forming his name. Like it hurt to say it. 

“It’s been too long.”

And then—just like that—you were crying.

He heard it in the tremble of your breath, felt it in the way your hand trembled against him. His own eyes burned, the tears rising before he could stop them. He looked up—finally, truly looked—and saw you. Not a dream. Not a shadow. Not a ghost.

You.

And he wasn’t sure if it was you who moved first or him. Only that, suddenly, he was in your arms, or you were in his, and none of it mattered. There was no hesitation, no decorum, no court or duty. Just the crushing, desperate ache of reunion.

You clung to each other beneath the garden’s starlit hush, your breaths unsteady, your bodies shaking—not from fear or cold, but from the sheer force of emotion neither of you could name. It wasn’t grace. It wasn’t beauty. It was raw, the kind of reunion that cracked open the places you thought had long since scarred over.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Azriel’s wings dropped.

They sagged behind him, the powerful muscles trembling too hard to hold them aloft. His wings touched the ground—an unforgivable gesture for any Illyrian, a sign of exhaustion, defeat, or despair. But right now, he didn’t care. 

But then—your hands were on his chest, gently but urgently pushing back. Not far, just enough to look at him. And he saw it then—the fear that had been buried beneath the tears, beneath the relief.

“You can’t tell.”

The words spilled past your lips in a whisper—rushed, desperate. Your eyes searched his face like they already knew the battle that might follow.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you breathed, voice cracking. “I know what I’m asking, I know I have no right anymore, I’m not your Lady—”

He stiffened, his hands still loosely on your arms, his shadows curling tight behind him.

You were wrong. So deeply, devastatingly wrong.

You were still his Lady.

You were still theirs.

He opened his mouth to tell you just that. To remind you who you were. Who you still were, even now—

“Mama?”

A small, sleepy voice carried into the stillness.

Azriel froze.

He turned, slowly, as if moving too fast would make the sound vanish.

And there—emerging from the shadows of a pillar, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists—was a little girl.

And for a moment, for a heartbeat that seemed to shatter everything he thought he understood, he thought he was looking at a baby version of Estelle.

But no—no, not quite. The features were younger. Softer. But so unmistakably familiar it felt like being knocked breathless.

Rhysand.

It was Rhysand’s face—his High Lord’s face, down to the curve of the cheekbones, the deep violet eyes blinking up at him with sleep-heavy curiosity.

She smiled at him—gentle, like he was something soft and safe.

“Friend? Family?”

And Azriel understood.

Understood everything.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

The Ballad of the Golden Knight and the Flower Nymph ~ Jaime Lannister x Tyrell Reader

Summary: Y/N has been Jaime and Cersei's best friend since before they were born, the fated trio of a bard's adventure story, however, not with a happy ending. When Jaime and Y/N fall in love, and Cersei becomes more and more bitter and jealous, revenge must be had. If Cersei does not know happiness - Then no one is allowed to.

> The story follows Y/N's relationship through the years with Jaime and Cersei, all the way until Daenerys' return to Westeros.

(( Jaime Lannister fanart by Michael Komarck ))

"There it goes! Quick, Jaime, before it gets away!" a lovely young lady was running around the flower garden trying to catch up with a cute orange cat they spotted while sparring in the training grounds. They had heard the knight training them to come back or they'll get scolded - But the warning fell on deaf ears. The same as the cat, who didn't want to cooperate, and escaped by climbing up a tree... And Jaime after her.

The poor boy was struggling to climb up the tree, but the cat was much faster and nimbler than him. "Shut up, Y/N, of course, you’re faster on the ground - But I can't climb up as fast as the cat! In fact, why don’t you climb up here and scare it down, so I can chase it around instead?"

Y/N wasted no time and climbing up by his side, grinning like a little imp. "I was enjoying my view." she teased the boy who blushed a little. "Besides - You were being graceful! I have to let you overcome this challenge, right? Knights are supposed to be strong and nimble, aren't they?"

"I’ll have you know, I’m as nimble as that cat!" he sounded mock-offended, pouting at her, only to hear the cat meowing defiantly from a higher branch, just out of reach. Both of the children started giggling.

"Oh yes, Ser Jaime the Cat Knight the Nimble, sworn to the chase. Shall I sing of your exploits?" the girl leaned forward, close to his face.

Jaime, however, hit his chest with pride. "You’ll be singing of my victory when I catch it! Just wait." he declared boldly as he lunged for the cat, darting further up the tree - Though he went to fast that he almost lost balance, making Y/N worry.

"Careful! If you fall, I’ll have to make you a crown of thorns instead of flowers! I want to sing of your success, not at your funeral!" the statement made the boy let out a confident laugh.

"I would wear it proudly either way, if it came from you, my sweet lady!" Y/N blushed a little at how charming Jaime could be - With them being spoken for, it was difficult not to imagine a loving and beautiful future together.

Eventually, however, they both gave up trying to catch the little devilish feline, retorting to laying on the ground by the flowers and looking up at the clouds lazily passing by - And then, they looked at each other, and laughed.

"Do you think it's laughing at us now? Two idiots, defeated by a scrappy little stray cat?" Y/N asked, turning to her side to look at her beautiful betrothed.

Jaime grinned, sitting up enthusiastically. "It is not over, Y/N! Next time, I will catch it for sure! And when I do, you will owe me a proper song about Ser Jaime the Cat Knight!"

Y/N smiled sweetly at him - He was so innocent, so untainted, so pure and genuine - A golden knight, a true sunshine, who deserved only the best in the world. He was beautiful, with golden hair messily emanating around him like a Godly aura, and those emerald eyes sparkling so precious with boyish enthusiasm and vitality. He was perfect. "Fine. But if you fall again, I will make the song about Ser Jaime the Tree Tumbler instead." they shared a laugh again, before Y/N had an idea, and fell back on her belly, quickly gathering some white, yellow and red flowers, quickly making a gorgeous flower crown. "For Ser Jaime of House Lannister - I have made you this crown, fit for a gallant knight, for when you prevail over that feline demon!"

Jaime's eyes went wide with surprise, and his cheeks were red. "A knight, you say? I’m hardly one yet... But I’ll gladly accept it from you, my lady."

"You look very regal. Like a lion of summer, crowned in blooms. It suits you, Jaime." her compliment made the boy smile even wider - One of his baby teeth had fallen, and he looked goofy and cute. Still, he laughed carefree.

"A lion of summer? How silly! What would Father say if he saw me now? 'A Lannister wears gold, not daisies,' he’d grumble. Ha!" Jaime imitated his father masterfully, making them both laugh even more.

"Oh, hush! It suits you. Besides, gold can be cold. This is warmer, don’t you think? Flowers are beautiful - And so are you." she spoke in such a sweet tone that it made Jaime's heart melt with warmth and darling.

"It is… warmer. Thank you." but much to his surprise, instead of a response from the girl, he received a sweet kiss on his cheek; Jaime's cheeks reddened more than the flowers he was wearing. "Wh-What was that for?"

"For being my knight in shining armor, of course! Every fair lady should reward her champion of light and justice, don’t you think?" she giggled cutely, making the boy stand up straight and tall, like a valiant knight should.

"Yes, that is right! And when I become knighted - Ser Jaime Lannister - I shall make for our wedding - What say you, the most beautiful Flower Lady?" he picked her hand gallantly, kissing it; He adored how lovely she looked, so demure and graceful, even when she wasn't trying, even when she was covered in dirt and wearing breeches. She was so soft and sweet, like no other. Everything she did made him so deeply in love with her.

"Ser Jaime Lannister the Golden Knight, and Lady Y/N Tyrell, the Rose of the Realm."

But it was always "The Knight and the Rose", not "The Knight, the Queen and the Rose", Cersei bitterly remarked, as once again, she was being left out from the activities her own twin brother and best friend were so joyfully doing. She wasn't allowed to horse-ride, wasn't allowed to spar, to do archery, to wear breeches and tumble around the mud like a pig, or chase after cats and dogs like a simple fool.

She was simmering internally with anger, and her face was twisted in envy, watching those two being all lovey-dovey. After their mother caught them in bed together, she separated them to sleep in different wings of the castle; She was forced to share a bed with all those headless chicken who try to befriend her, while Jaime enjoys the glee of having his bedchamber just across Y/N's own room. Why does their mother not make a fuss about those two sneaking into each other's room? Of course, Cersei snitched on them, but it wasn't a problem, because they were betrothed, she said. They need to get to know each other, she said. Horse shite, Cersei said, before having her mouth slapped.

Angry hot tears stung at her eyes that night, punching the pillow and kicking her bed maid off the bed. If the person by her side wasn't Jaime or Y/N, then they didn't deserve to share the comfort of her bed. It was hers, not theirs.

As dark thoughts kept tainting her heart, she didn't realise how she butchered her embroidery, and even stabbed her own finger with the needle - Nor that her father stepped behind her.

"You might be proficient with the wrong kind of needle." her whole body shivered in shock as she heard her father's grave voice. "You are supposed to bleed the enemy to death, not your own self."

"Father..." she grumbled under her breath, looking at Y/N and Jaime going back to sparring. "Look at them. Rolling in the dirt like common stable boys. It is unbecoming of a lady, don’t you think, Father? She is unworthy of becoming Jaime's wife - The future Lady Lannister, the wife of the heir of Casterly Rock."

"She’s indulging Jaime. That is not unbecoming; it is strategic." he spoke calmly. "Do not think I have any love for her family - In spite of that, however, politically speaking, this alliance is as powerful as it can get. Save for the Crown, there is no stronger family worthy of our lineage."

But Cersei was hearing none of it. She was bristling with rage and deaf to the political truth of the matter. "Strategic? She’s filthy! If that were me, you would drag me by the ear and lock me in my chambers for a week!" she exclaimed like a brat. "Her whole family is uncouth filth - She said she was riding horses since she was old enough to walk, and has been training in falconry with her brother all the same! How is that worthy of our noble family?!"

Tywin took a sharp inhale, making his daughter's blood freeze in her veins; It was clear he was getting fed up with her complaining."If that were you, Cersei, you’d be shouting at your brother, demanding the sword instead of proving you can wield it better. Or sulking when it wasn’t handed to you." she tried to complain, indignant at the accusations, but her father cut her off immediately.

The Lannister Lord looked at the yard, his piercing green eyes staring at Lady Y/N ducking with great agility under Jaime's swing and lightly tapping his side with her sword - His son laughed, declaring her the victor. Unlike his twin, Jaime was not a sore loser; He worked hard to overcome his weaknesses, to become a better version of himself. He was not the smartest, academically speaking, and he was having great problems even reading - But at least, when it came to wielding a sword, he was a prodigy. Tywin knew better than anyone that he needed a shrewd and intelligent wife to help him govern Casterly Rock after he was no more.

"She knows how to play her role in this mummer's show. A lady when it matters, and clever enough to win favor when it doesn’t. That is why she is worth my time, Cersei." the Lord told his daughter.

Cersei hissed at her father angrily. "So I’m not worth your time because I don’t prance around with flowers and simper like a fool?"

"No, you are not worth my time because you waste it. You’re too busy complaining about what you’re not allowed to do instead of mastering what you are. She can stitch a tapestry as finely as she can outwit Jaime with a wooden sword. Can you say the same?" Cersei's fists clenched with simmering rage, her nails biting into her palms painfully. Her voice got lower, venomous.

"She isn’t perfect. You only favor her because she’s a Tyrell. She brings wealth and alliances. If she were not, you would scold her just like me." she declared boldly. "Besides - Mother didn't have to behave like a fool to charm you. She was just pretty... And a maiden. Just like me.

"Do not mistake my favoritism for weakness. If she falters, I shall correct her. But unlike you, she doesn’t test my patience every time she opens her mouth." Tywin scolded his daughter coldly, watching as she flinched at the harshness of his words, though characteristically of her ego, she refused to back down. Her gaze shifted back to the two playing fools, watching as Jaime helped Y/N get up from the ground, though he still looked bright and full of admiration at the Tyrell girl, despite her being filthy from head to toe, just like him.

"It's not fair... She’s bewitched him. Jaime looks at her like she hung the moon. That’s why you’re so indulgent. Because she’s wrapped him around her little finger, and you think she’ll keep him loyal to you." she huffed, her eyes narrow and filled with murder. "Jaime is mine, not hers. He is my twin brother. He should spend time with me, not her - She is just a stranger. She can't steal everything from me, in my own home!"

"Cersei - Open your ears and listen clearly to me." her body froze in place with unexpected fear. "We all must play a role in this life, based on what dice we roll." he spoke solemnly. "The circumstances of your mother and I were far different than those of Y/N and Jaime - Though do not think, even for one second, to downplay your mother's worth to only her beauty and maidenhead." she never heard her father speak that way - He wasn't a man of compliments or sweet words, yet in his own way, he was scolding her for reducing his wife to being just another woman. "Y/N is here to make Jaime fall in love with her, marry, make children, and inherit Casterly Rock. The strongest two houses in Westeros are bound to thrive for generations on end." he continued his speech. "Likewise, she is here to teach you how to behave in the same way - How else are you supposed to learn how to shake down that nasty attitude of yours and become a woman worthy of charming Rhaegar Targaryen?"

Cersei jumped in her seat, her attention shifted completely on her father. "Rhaegar... Targaryen...? Th-The Prince, you mean? The Heir to the Iron Throne?"

"I will not have mine own daughter marry any less than the best there is in this realm." he declared coldly, looking into the horizon with cold spite - Cersei knew there was some bad blood between her father and King Aerys, but she wasn't aware of the details. "I will make you the Queen of the Realm, even if kills me - So instead of sulking and spitting venom like a viper, how about you use even half of that effort into honing those skills you take such pride on - Bitterness will get you nowhere. Listen to her. Learn from her. Never falter - And then, you shall become Queen."

For once, Cersei didn't protest - She hadn't met the Crown Prince yet, but she heard tales of how gallant and handsome he was, just like in those romantic tales she heard - For once, Cersei imagined herself Jonquil, in the arms of her beloved Florian - What a foolish tale - She was foolish indeed, to be dreaming of such childish things - She wasn't just a girl, she was the daughter of Tywin Lannister; She wasn't supposed to fall in love to the idea of a beautiful and valiant Prince who would treat her right... But she was get enamoured, dreaming of a man she had never met.

For once, Cersei didn't dream of sharing a bed with either Jaime or Y/N, but with a silver-haired boy with purple eyes like amethyst, and with the heart of a dragon. Y/N and Jaime can have each other, for all she cares; A dumb lion and a cunning rose. They can do whatever, as long as she marries Rhaegar Targaryen and becomes the Queen of the Realm.

"Jaime! Jaime! Look!" a young girl chirped enthusiastically, holding her skirts up in her arms, as if she was holding something. "Look what I found!"

Jaime looked at the pretty little lady with utmost interest and curiosity, drawing closer to her - To his surprise, he saw four baby bunnies nestled together. "Rabbits? Where did you find these?"

"I was in the flower garden nearby, looking for pretty red flowers to make crowns for you and Cersei - I found the mangled bunny mommy under a tree, and a few babies next to her. These three were the only surviving ones." the golden haired lioness also approached the two, looking at the little fluffs with a frown and slight disgust.

"They look... Weird." she muttered under her breath. "They're too small. We can't eat them, nor make pelts out of them. You should have left them to die as a family. They're too small to know they are suffering, regardless - Father says it's a mercy."

"I..." little lady Tyrell's smile fell, and she looked down at the terrified bunnies. "I... Hoped we could take care of them. Maybe Lord Tywin will see this as an early way of taking responsibility - Learning how to take care of a frail and vulnerable creature, so we get used to taking care of our babes when we grow older?" she tried to reason, but Cersei only scoffed, looking away.

"As if my Lord Father would ever agree to such a folly..." without much grace, she pinched her fingers around the scruff of a brown bunny, lifting it up - As soon as she got it to eye-level, the little critter squeaked loudly, making the lioness let go of it to fall back on the skirts of the Tyrell girl. "What an awfully loud and uncouth creature."

"You were much like it when you were born, daughter." the three children all jumped in shock as they heard the Lord Lannister's stern voice; Thankfully, he was followed by his Lady Wife, who was smiling warmly at them. They remained mute as the father raised another of the rabbits and inspected it.

"This one looks old enough to live without its mother. The eyes are open, the teeth are strong, and its limbs are nimble." he put it into his wife's delicate hands.

"And almost as darling as a baby." Lady Joanna added with a motherly hum. "I think Lady Y/N's idea is a most brilliant one - I would say they are old enough to learn the way of the household, would you not agree, my darling?"

"For Cersei and Y/N yes, I would say so, but what about Jaime? He has no time to fool around, he is to become a knight, not a kennel master for rabbits." Lady Joanna placed her hand delicately over her mouth, stifling a sweet giggle as she placed the bunny in Jaime's hands.

"You are most correct, my darling - However, would you not agree that it would bring Jaime and Y/N closer, taking care of babies together, the same they shall do in the future, when they marry and create a family of their own? Mayhaps this little exercise of responsibility will foreshadow their future happy life together." as always, Tywin couldn't argue with his dear wife's reasoning - He could almost never refuse her. In fact, the man held a half-smile and offered a curt nod to the children before leaving them to their plays.

"And there even is a fourth little bunny, for Cersei's and Jaime's little brother!" Y/N exclaimed, making Lady Joanna smile kindly, placing her hand over her slightly swollen belly.

"Don't come crying to me when they die." was his last response before he entered the castle to return to his duties, followed by his wife.

Although Cersei didn't want to admit, she was quite happy her father agreed to allowing them to keep the rabbits - In spite of it not being thanks to her own persuasion, but her friend. Truly, it was fine, she tried to lie to herself - Though whenever she looked at Y/N as saw that radiant smile... Or, rather, whenever she saw how happy Jaime was, staying around Y/N like a moth to the flame... A piece of her was breaking. Jaime was HER twin, they shared the same womb, he came into this world holding her foot - Jaime should love HER the most, not Y/N!

But Cersei couldn't be angry at Y/N - Not when Y/N was the only person who understood her. Not when Cersei could talk to her about falconry and horse-riding, about archery and swordsmanship. Y/N wasn't like all those stupid bedmaids who know only to gossip and seam dresses. Not when Y/N was supposed to marry Jaime, not Rhaegar Targaryen.

No, Y/N was different, she was raised different. She had loving parents and loving siblings who adored her; The people of Highgarden weren't looking down on her for wearing breeches and playing in the mud with her brothers or learning how to ride with them - In fact, they praised her for being proactive and wishing to learn as many arts as humanly possible. She was always praised for every little thing she did - Something that Cersei had never heard of, especially from her father. The only comfort Cersei ever had was the loving embrace of her mother, and the company of Jaime and Y/N...

However, she was jealous on both of them, to such a burning degree, that oft times, she couldn't hold back a sneer or a snarky comment that would hurt them.

She wanted to be a nice person, truly, she did - But why was Jaime treated differently, just because he was a body? Why was he allowed to play around and get dirty, to practice swordsmanship, archery, horse-riding... While she was stuck learning the history of dead men, and sewing some ugly flowers of a dress. She loved Jaime - She wanted to be Jaime - When they changed clothes, they were one and the same, not even Tywin Lannister could differentiate between them two. She loved Jaime - But she also hated Jaime.

The same way she loved Y/N, but also, hated Y/N. Y/N could embroider the most beautiful patterns, she could paint the most picturesque landscapes, make the prettiest flower crowns and bouquets, master all the arts taught by the Maester... As well as roll around in the mud like a pig with her brother... Or help with spar... Or indulge in archery competitions... Or ride small horses... Or chase cats through the garden... Or even indulge in falconry...

She hated how she felt so bitterly about everyone around her - She wasn't like this, she didn't want to feel like this. She wanted to be beautiful, graceful, kind - She wanted to be a woman worthy of being called 'The Queen of Westeros' ; and yet... She was well aware, these dark, tainting feelings were eroding her from the inside, and only her mother could help her diminish those awful thoughts and feelings plaguing her soul. It was times like those that not even the thought of marrying the silver haired beauty wasn't capable of consoling her.

"Well then!" Jaime was the first to chirp up, digging his hands into Y/N's skirts and retrieving the most energetic and robust bunny; That one was a gorgeous shade of blue-grey and velvety soft, with light coloured eyes. "You shall be mine companion!"

"He is definitely a fighter, just like you, Jaime!" Y/N giggled cutely, watching her beloved hold the bunny up so awkwardly, yet with a sunny grin on his face.

"And just as much of a fool - Look at it, wiggling in your grip, as if it wouldn't shatter his bones if he fell to the ground from that height. Fragile little fool." Cersei crossed her arms, spitting at the two, though not even she could deny how cute those little critters were.

Jaime, however, ignored her comment, and only let out a boyish snigger. "You shall be the greatest knight to ever be! Just like The Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne!" he claimed boldly. "So young, yet already so legendary - Ser Bunny Dayne!" he said in a loud, confident roar.

"What. An. Idiot." Cersei let out a loud groan, before picking her own bunny; It was a golden girl with light coloured eyes. It could, in no way, match her beauty - But it was, by far, the prettiest of the three, and the most refined-looking. "Mine shall be called Queen. I will have the blacksmith forge a crown for her, and you and your plebeian rabbits shall bow down and kneel in front of us." she smirked at the other two, who smiled sweetly at her, doing a joint reverie curtesy.

"My Queen!" they giggled in unison, as Cersei finally seemed satisfied with the outcome.

The runt of the litter was a white rabbit with black eyes, small and scrawny. "My little darling shall be named Rose." Y/N cuddled the little petal-sized bunny into her neck, watching as Jaime cooed at how cute they were, with the rabbit nuzzling into her cheek as if seeking protection and warmth.

"It's settled! We now have three companions worthy of a ballad to be sung by the bards across generations! The Knight, The Queen and The Rose!" declared the boy boldly.

"Sounds like a wonderful tale to be sung for tourneys and events of all kinds!" Y/N clapped cheerfully.

"Yes, yes, magnificent, I agree." Cersei looked at the two bright idiots with disdain. "But has either of you any idea whatsoever on how to take care of a bunch of rabbits?" they remained mute and unmoved. "Thought so. You two are idiots, that's what you are." she scoffed once again. "There are midwives and nurse-maids who take care of infants - But who in their right minds would know how to take care of infant rabbits?" she scolded the two. "No matter. Let us see if the maesters can help us - Or perhaps the horse or kennel masters. They are all animals, cannot be that different, can it?"

"Cheers to Queen Cersei for being the brightest of us!" Y/N clapped at her for her bright idea - It wasn't that she didn't think of it, but Cersei had been so upset lately, that she needed to find some way of gratification - Of validation - And since her own father was never going to give it to her, and the words of her mother were already beginning to dwindle on her, the last thing she held was some authority grip on her little group of friends.

But that wasn't long to last, as no matter how hard she tried, Cersei could never receive the praise she so dearly craved for. No matter how pretty her writing was, Y/N's calligraphy was always better, more gracious, more feminine and elegant. No matter how good her seaming and embroidery was, Y/N's was always more refined and intricate. No matter how well she did in politics and history lessons, there was always some little tid-bit useless trivia that Y/N came up with to impress the Maesters and Septas.

Not fair! It was not fair!

She was still young, she had time to learn, of course! She was still young, and so was Jaime - They still could switch places and pretend to be the other twin, and Y/N never snitched on her... But that was worse, because her father allowed Y/N to train and play around with Jaime, and it was so much fun!

She loved to swing a sword around, to get dirty and wear breeches, to do calculus and think up war strategies, to pull back the string of the bow and shoot arrows -- Sure, she wasn't very good at it, but how could she be, if she wasn't allowed to train herself, like Y/N did? Oh, she was so very jealous, watching Y/N ride on a beautiful mare, by Jaime's and Tywin's side, and on her gloved hand, a most beautiful falcon nuzzling its beak into her cheek as she fed it some meat.

She wanted to be the one on that horse. She wanted to be loved by the falcon. She wanted to have her hair breezed by the wind as she rides into adventures. She wanted her heart to race with adrenaline and excitement. She wanted to spill blood and gore.

Instead, she was doomed to be mounting a throne, to be loved by a disgusting old man probably, to have her hair breezed by the air on her balcony, to have her heart race with annoyance as he climbs into her bed, and spill the blood of her maidenhood and the gore of her births.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! Just because she didn't have a cock between her legs didn't make her any less worthy and capable!

She looked at Jaime with disdain and envy, stabbing her embroidery and biting her lip until blood trickled down her chin - He couldn't even read properly, but he was allowed to train to become a knight? All of father's good traits came to her, but she just had to be a woman like her mother - Yes, she was beautiful, but at what cost? It was a curse to be a woman.

But how can she excel, when her bitterness and jealousy overwhelm her very senses? When her pride and greed for validation are stronger than her will of remaining a passive little doll to be manipulated by others. She is a lioness, she is strong, noble, prideful, arrogant and confident - How can she allow herself to sit back and just embroider and smile and... Nothing else.

These gnawing worries and emotions kept plaguing her to the point that she hadn't realised how she was falling behind in her studies, until her father went to check on their maesters and septas to see how they were doing - And it was not a pretty sight.

The Lannister Lord looked at Jaime's work with a rare nod of approval - Though slower than average, his son was capable of clearly reading out loud the words written on the books he was supposed to study; Tywin had tried time and time again to make sense of the letters jumbled inside his own son's head, and was never able to sort it out. "The Maester tells me you’ve been making progress with your reading, Jaime. I was beginning to think it was beyond you."

Jaime, not having expected a compliment from the cold man he calls father, blushed faintly, looking down with a boyish smile, before gazing at Y/N. "It wasn’t easy. But I had help." likewise, the girl smiled sweetly at him. Of course it was the Tyrell girl who got Jaime to learn how to read properly, he needn't be surprised anymore.

"Y/N has been incredibly patient with me... More patient than I deserve, if I am being honest. She found ways to make it easier for me to piece words together, despite the letters not making sense to me and looking chaotic in my head." Cersei wanted to vomit at how annoyingly cutesy those two idiots were being with each other. They didn't have to flaunt how very happily in love they were with each other, and all that nonsense they were shamelessly displaying in front of everyone.

"I do not deserve all the praise, My Lord, I truly have not done much; Jaime did all the hard work himself - He is very diligent when he sets his mind to do something. He just needed a push in the right direction, and he flew on his own from there." oh, what an annoyingly humble and selfless response - Cersei hated that. If she achieved something, she wanted to be praised for it, not to pretend to be holier than thou. "Diligent or not, you did well, Lady Tyrell. Jaime is lucky to have a devoted and patient wife such as yourself." Tywin felt like his body was being burnt and prickled with thorns, spewing such compliments, but if it meant achieving what he set as his goals, it mattered little. Cersei needed to learn from Y/N, and Jaime had to marry Y/N. The Highgarden resources were highly valuable, and so was the Crown power.

Alas, his plans were only going half his way, as his daughter, with the ever spiteful venomous tongue, cut in to protest. If only she would learn to shut up, she would be seen as wiser. "I tried to help him too, Father. But it’s impossible to teach someone who doesn’t even try to learn."

"That’s not fair, Cersei! It's not my fault I see the letters flying and constantly changing places!" Jaime protested immediately, not appreciating the way his sister was blaming him like that.

Cersei slapped her hands on the table, raising up and hissing at her stupid younger brother. It was times like these, when he was agreeing with her, that she felt completely alienated in her own home, by her own family - She was truly alone. "Oh, it is not? Did you try this hard when I sat with you for hours, sounding out every word? No! You just stared at the page like a dullard, and when I corrected you, you sulked like a child!" she crossed her arms, huffing in anger. "I was right to stop wasting my time. You’re hopeless, Jaime. More suited to swinging swords like a lowborn than inheriting Casterly Rock. You never had a problem reading - You just wanted Y/N's attention so you can impress her."

The room falls silent, echoing with the sound of a slap, as Cersei's face gets struck, and she falls to the ground. Jaime stiffens, remaining silent, while Y/N instinctively bites her lip and holds his hand for comfort. She was always somewhat afraid of men who acted violent, though she couldn't fault Tywin for disciplining his misbehaving daughter - Y/N herself wanted to strike Cersei for speaking so ill of her beloved Jaime.

"I, myself, tried teaching Jaime how to read - Are you saying I would not know if my own son had a problem with his studies? Or do you assume that, when he says the letters are jumbled in his head, he is lying to get out of studying?" the Lord's voice was harsh and grave.

"Exactly so!" Jaime sighed, squeezing Y/N's hand. "Y/N helped me read intuitively... I read the shape of the letters, of the words, so I try to read the first and last letters and guess the words. I read fast this way, yes, but I do not always read correctly - So I have to go back to reading the same word again, and figure out where I was wrong..." he tried to explain, though his own ailment was difficult to understand even for himself, let alone to put it into words. "I... I am sorry I am so difficult to deal with... I promise I really tried my hardest to get better... And I still am... But it does not always work as I wish it to. It takes patience... And I am very grateful for every bit of it."

"Jaime has worked so, so hard, and he has improved so much. When we study together, he focuses with such determination... He stays up every night to practice reading, even though he wakes up tired in the morning." Y/N cleared her throat. "He wanted to make Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna proud by reading a poem for them, on the anniversary of their wedding."

Jaime’s tension eases slightly, and he gives the Y/N a bashful, grateful smile. Tywin, in turn, looked sharply at Cersei - How was she going to make Rhaegar Targaryen want to wed her, when she has such a disgusting attitude? No man would ever want a spiteful and opinionated wife like her. "Do you hear that? Patience. Encouragement. Qualities you sorely lack, Cersei. Instead of supporting your brother, you insult and belittle him. And you wonder why you fail where others succeed?"

Cersei's voice rose up, in spite of her knowing she will get awfully punished - Her red cheek was stinging, and tears streamed down her face, but it was in vain - Whenever her pride took over, her mind took a backseat and she forgot herself. "Why do you always take her side? She’s not even your daughter! In fact - You treat her more like a daughter than you treat me!"

Tywin rose a quizzical eyebrow, though remained unshaken. "Is that so?" he spoke in such a low, cold tone, that it made all three children shiver with a terrified chill. "Then tell me, Cersei. Why is it that every report I receive from your Septas and the Maester mentions your negligence? Your embroidery is sloppy, your history lessons are incomplete, and your arithmetic is abysmal."

Cersei, however, remained on the defensive. "They exaggerate! I’ve been studying, obviously, but how can I focus when she—" she gestured her hand towards Y/N. "When she keeps giggling with Jaime and skipping classes and distracts me all the time?"

Her father cut her off with a tone as sharp as valyrian steel. "Enough." Cersei froze on the spot as her father stepped in front of her, looking down at her with such disappointment that it physically hurt more than the slap itself. "Making excuses for your failures by dragging others into it is unbecoming of a Lannister. You think you can mask your laziness with lies? To humiliate the noble House of Lannister?" he called for one of the Septas to come in - She nervously did a curtsy, unable to look up at him. "Show me her embroidery - And than Lady Tyrell's."

The other Septas waiting outside hurried to retrieve the most recent pieces hastily - He was not proficient in embroidery, but one needn't be, when comparing Cersei's uneven stitches, and the little prickles of blood stained on the sides, to Y/N's delicate and intricate romantic pattern of a golden lion surrounded by blooming roses. What a disappointment. Surely his own children should have inherited some of his talent and wit... Hopefully, the third would be better. "Discipline, diligence and pride - As opposed to lack of interest, haste and boredom."

Seeing her own embroidery next to Y/N's made Cersei feel positively humiliated - She hadn't realised until then how far apart they were. "You take pride only in being a Lannister with wealth and power - Though you do not possess the skills, nor the will for it. Perhaps if you studied as much as you complained, you would reach at least a quarter of Lady Tyrell's level."" her face was burning with shame, as her father asked the Maester to bring about their academic progress records.

"Lady Tyrell has consistently excelled in her studies, my lord. Her arithmetic is precise, her history essays insightful, and her understanding of High Valyrian is remarkable." the old man cleared his throat awkwardly. "As for Lady Cersei…" he hesitated, gulping down as he glanced nervously at the Lannister Lord. "… has struggled to meet even the minimum expectations."

No one spoke another word; The maesters and septas all left the chamber, leaving Lord Tywin alone with the three children. With a nod of his head, Jaime took Y/N's hand and they, too, bolted out of there, not wanting to be subjected to his wrath.

"What do you have to say in your defense, daughter?" one last chance he offered her, before a tidal wave of critique shall follow.

"What would you have me do, Father? I see Y/N for who she is - She is not nearly as much of a fairy as everyone thinks she is! She is pretending - She seduced Jaime and everyone around her - She is trying to steal everything from me!" and Tywin expected nothing more from his brat of a daughter. Why could she not be as well behaved as her own mother? He swears Jaime is more like Joanna - How could Cersei inherit nothing from her own mother?

"For her to 'steal' things from you, as you say, you must first 'own' things - Which, mind you, you do not own anything. Everything you have is thanks to me and mine own efforts, not by any means anything that you have done thus far." Cersei’s hands tremble with rage, but she says nothing. "Why must you squander every opportunity to prove yourself? Can you not see you are not nearly as smart as you think you are?" he continued with his disappointment. "You are angry for being a pawn used for political alliances, yet you do nothing to prove your worth above marriage - Yet how much use can you be of me, when you behave like a spoiled child, and you would repel the Crown Prince at first sight with your unruliness?" the idea of Rhaegar looking at her and running away from her broke her heart in pieces.

"What would you have me do? Sit and smile like her? Pretend to care about embroidery and make up while Jaime is allowed to chase glory?" Cersei’s eyes burn with tears, but Tywin pays her no mind, as usual.

"I would have you master the tools at your disposal. You are a woman of House Lannister. You wield power not with swords, but with intellect, charm, and influence, yet you refuse to cultivate any of these because you cannot see beyond your own bitterness. That is why you fail. Instead of using your advantages to secure a future worthy of our name, you squander them with petty jealousy and spite." he then continued in a softer, yet no les chilling tone. "You embarrass me, Cersei. If you drive away the Crown Prince with your disgusting arrogance and spite, then you are of no use to me."

Cersei storms out, her anger boiling over into hot tears as she vows silently that one day, she’ll show them all. She’ll show him. She’ll prove she’s more than they think — At any cost.

She sought out the only person of comfort to her, and fell to her knees before her mother, dramatically hugging her legs and sobbing loudly into her lap, as Joanna could only pat her golden locks to appease her. "Not fair! Mother, it is not fair! Why does father always scold me, but never Y/N? Why does Jaime like Y/N more than me? Why can Y/N do the same things Jaime can, but I cannot?!" she cried like the little five year old child that she was, noticing the blinding differences between them. "Am I not good enough for father? Am I not a worthy daughter? Am I meant only to breed like a cattle cow, and bring babes into this world, while Y/N and Jaime have fun together, going on adventures and living a happy and fulfilling life?!"

"Oh, my sweet child, that is not true." Joanna kissed the golden crown of her head. "Your father cannot scold Y/N because she is not of our own family, but a Tyrell - She is an important member to alliance with, for political purposes - The fact that Y/N and Jaime get along so well is just a pure coincidence."

Joanna smoothed a hand over her daughter's golden curls, her touch gentle as always. "You are your father's only daughter, Cersei. He holds you to the highest of standards because he expects great things from you."

Cersei sniffled, pulling away just enough to glare up at her mother. "He expects me to sit still and be quiet! He expects me to smile and curtsey and act as if I am no more than a broodmare to be bartered away!" her little fists clenched at the fabric of Joanna’s gown. "Why doesn’t he expect that of Jaime? Why can Jaime do as he pleases while I—" she hiccuped, her voice breaking "... while I am scolded like a child for simply wanting the same?"

Joanna sighed softly, brushing a tear from Cersei’s flushed cheek. "Because Jaime is a boy, my love. And you…" she hesitated, then cupped her daughter’s face in both hands, forcing Cersei to meet her eyes. "You were born to be something else entirely. Something greater."

Cersei blinked, her breath hitching. "Greater?"

"Yes." Joanna nodded, her voice soothing, but there was an undeniable weight to it. "Jaime will grow into a knight, yes, but you, my sweet girl — You will be the Queen."

For the first time since she had fled to her mother’s chambers, Cersei’s breath steadied. The Queen. That meant being the wife of Rhaegar Targaryen, the mysterious and gallant prince of her dreams, the man she had never met before, but often fantasised over. The thought sent a strange thrill through her veins, stronger than any promise of adventure, stronger even than her desire to best Y/N. The realisation that, being the Queen of Westeros, gave her the power to rule - And she always loved having authority and power over people.

"The Queen..." she repeated, as if tasting the words for the first time.

"Queen Cersei." Joanna smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. "But a Queen must have patience, my love. She must be clever, and careful. She cannot lash out like a little girl throwing tantrums."

Cersei frowned. "But Y/N—"

"Y/N is not you." Joanna interrupted gently. "She will marry Jaime one day, yes, but that is her role. Yours is far grander. Yours is to rule. When you father and I are no more, and Y/N and Jaime marry, Y/N will rule over the Westerlands and most - But you? You will be the sole power over the whole Seven Kingdoms."

Cersei swallowed, her mind racing. To rule. The words filled her head, drowning out the ache in her chest. Perhaps she had been foolish to cry over Jaime’s affections and attention. Perhaps she had been wasting her energy on a war that was already lost. Let Jaime and Y/N have their foolish happiness.

She would have a crown.

She straightened, brushing the last of her tears away. Joanna, ever perceptive, smiled faintly as she watched the shift in her daughter’s expression.

"I understand now, Mother." Cersei said, lifting her chin. "You are right - I am a big girl now - And big girls don't cry. Rhaegar would never like me if I was snotty and bratty, after all."

Joanna pressed a final kiss to her brow. "Good girl."

And in that moment, Cersei decided—if she could not have Jaime’s freedom and Y/N's favoritism, she would have the world's respect.

At any cost.

The four little rabbits had become the heart of their small world - And the fourth one was always laying on Lady Joanna's swollen belly, as if to protect her baby and become a symbol of safe birth.

Jaime had taken it upon himself to bring her fresh greens from the kitchens, and even Cersei — Who had been reluctant at first — Would sit beside her mother, gently stroking the little white rabbit’s fur as they talked about the future. It was true, she was jealous thinking there would be another Lannister to be the competitor for her mother's love - But she would teach her sibling some discipline.

And then, the day of the birth came.

Joanna’s cries had echoed through the halls, sending a cold shiver through the children as they waited just beyond the chamber doors, into the garden outside.

Jaime paced restlessly, his hands clenched into fists. He looked at Y/N, who was trembling, mortified - If they marry, he would have to put Y/N through this horror? Was that what being a woman was? Was that how their mother shrieked delivering them also? It was cruel and unfair - He didn't want his mother to go through this - And he didn't want Cersei and Y/N to go through this either.

Cersei sat rigidly on the bench, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her foot tapping anxiously against the floor as she manically petted her rabbit. Y/N, though her hands trembled, kept her voice gentle as she spoke to them - Yet it was wavering and weak. It was the first time the twins saw the perfect rose being shaken and afraid.

"Your mother is strong. She’ll be fine."

Cersei shot her a sharp glare but said nothing. As much as she wanted to snap at her, she didn't have the power to.

Then, at long last, the screaming stopped. Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Jaime reached for Cersei’s hand, squeezing it tight. Y/N bit her lip.

And then— Finally— The door opened.

But it was not Lord Tywin who emerged. It was a Maester.

Jaime and Cersei leapt to their feet at once, searching his face for any sign of relief. Y/N felt her stomach twist as the old man hesitated, adjusting his chain as if weighing his words carefully.

"The child is a boy..." the Maester said at last, subtle tears pooling in his eyes.

Jaime let out a breath. A boy. A little brother. He always wanted a little brother to play with, to protect, to teach. Cersei, however, could care less, and Y/N was deaf to those news. She knew, based on the man's face, something awful happened.

"Lady Joanna, however ... Did not survive the birth."

Silence.

Jaime went pale.

Cersei froze.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

"No." Cersei’s voice was barely a whisper at first, then it grew. "No. No, she—she wouldn’t—"

But the Maester only bowed his head. "Lord Tywin has asked for no disturbances. He is mourning in solitude."

Jaime’s breath hitched, and then he broke in fits of loud sobs; He stumbled back against the wall, his hands covering his face as the first sob tore from his throat.

Cersei stood shaking, her fists trembling at her sides, and then she screamed, and shrieked her lungs out - A raw, ugly sound, filled with fury and heartbreak. She threw herself against the Maester, shoving him back with all the strength her little body could muster.

"You’re lying! She’s not dead! She can’t be—SHE CAN’T BE DEAD!" the old Maester staggered but did not retaliate. Grief destroys people, he knew it all to well, and at such a frail age, no les... ; Cersei spun toward Y/N, eyes burning with tears and rage. "You said she would be fine! YOU LIED TO ME!" Y/N flinched, but before she could say a word, Cersei lunged to attack Y/N, to shake her, to yell in her face, to blame her; Jaime barely had the strength to stop her. He caught her wrists as she swung at Y/N, his sobs breaking between his desperate pleas.

"Cersei, stop... Please..."

But she was too lost in her grief. "I hate you!" she screamed at Y/N, her face contorted in anguish. "I hate all of you! I hate him! That little monster! He killed her! He killed her!"

The little brown rabbit — Joanna’s rabbit — Had been placed in the crib with the newborn, its soft fur brushing against the infant’s tiny hands. Cersei saw it, and something inside her snapped. With a choked cry, she tore away from Jaime’s grasp and ran.

Jaime collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

And Y/N, stunned, heartbroken, knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders. She wanted to tell him everything would be alright, but she could not bring herself to lie - Not when she was so deathly afraid of her own fate.

Time, however, waits for no one, they say, and Lady Joanna Lannister's body was burnt, while everyone else had to move on with their lives, just as before.

Casterly Rock’s grand halls felt suffocating under the weight of grief, though its lords and ladies carried on as if nothing had changed. But something had changed — Everything had changed. Lady Joanna Lannister was dead, and in her place was a wailing, red-faced babe who had done nothing to earn his family’s love. Lady Joanna Lannister was dead, and with her, so was the last bit of humanity in Lord Tywin Lannister's heart.

Still, just as previously planned, Princess Martell of Dorne, along with her son and daughter, had arrived not long ago, and their presence brought an unusual warmth to the keep. Oberyn and Elia — young, lively, and utterly unafraid, had made their way through the lion’s den with confidence, their sand-kissed skin and bright Dornish silks standing in stark contrast to the heavy crimson and gold surrounding them.

Cersei had taken it upon herself to guide them through the Rock, though Y/N and Jaime were never far behind, trailing lost lost puppies trying to catch up to her - Or stop her from bringing them to the Lions' cages.

"You must see the monster." Cersei had said, leading them toward the nursery with a cruel glint in her eye. "The beast that took my mother’s life."

Elia hesitated, casting a wary glance at her brother, but Oberyn, always the curious mischief, followed with amusement. It was even better seeing the worried and apprehensive look on Y/N and Jaime, as they looked at each other, though had no clue how to stop the imminent problem that Cersei Lannister was. As beautiful as she was, she was perfectly ruthless.

The nursery was quiet, save for the soft cooing of a wet nurse tending to the infant Tyrion who layed nestled in his crib, with the tiny brown rabbit still curled beside him, twitching its pink nose in sleep.

Cersei wasted no time in dismissing the wet nurse, and showing off her cruelty for the world to see. "Look at him." she sneered, stepping up to the crib and glaring down at the child. "This grotesque little thing, with his misshapen head and his ugly little stubby hands. He should have died instead of her. He has no right to live."

Jaime stiffened beside Y/N, his hand curling into a fist. Y/N swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably as Elia frowned deeply, her hands clasped before her.

"He is just a babe, Cersei." Elia murmured, but Cersei did not hear her, nor did she care to hear. She reached into the crib, her fingers curling around Tyrion’s soft, chubby flesh.

"Cersei, don’t —" Jaime warned, but his sister ignored him. With a sharp squeeze, she took hold of the infant’s tiny prick and pressed, harder and harder, watching as Tyrion’s face scrunched up in agony before he let out a high, piercing wail.

"Cersei, stop!" Y/N gasped, stepping forward, but the golden-haired lioness only pressed harder, her teeth bared in fury.

"You are the reason she is dead!" she hissed at the helpless babe. "You took her from me! You killed her! You should have been strangled in the cradle, you little monster!" Jaime lunged, shoving Cersei back just as Oberyn moved. The black haired Prince grasped her wrist with a firm but careful grip, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"He is just a babe." Oberyn said smoothly, though his voice held an undeniable sharpness. "He has done nothing wrong."

Cersei trembled with fury, but she did not pull away. Instead, she tore herself from Jaime’s grasp and stormed from the room without another word.

Silence settled awkwardly between them. The wet nurse hastily returned into the room to sooth the crying Tyrion, rocking him gently in her arms.

Elia exhaled, shaking her head. "I did not think Lord Tywin would allow such cruelty in his house, but I see now that grief can fester in many ways."

Y/N sighed, rubbing her arms as she turned to the Martell siblings. "I apologise sincerely for the way she acted... Cersei, she... She hasn’t been the same since Lady Joanna passed."

"Grief does not excuse cruelty, little rose." Oberyn countered, tilting his head at her. "Though I believe you already know that."

Jaime scowled but said nothing, his jaw tight with emotion. Then, as if the moment had never happened, Oberyn grinned. "Let us not dwell on sadness. I did not come all this way to be scolded by a child who thinks herself queen already."

Y/N blinked, startled by his sudden shift in tone and the boldness of his speech. "Our mother was friends with Lady Joanna, you know." Elia offered, her expression softening. "She had hopes that Oberyn would one day wed Cersei."

Jaime’s brows furrowed. "And now?"

Elia’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Now your Lord Father refuses to even entertain the idea. He says Cersei will only wed a king." Y/N frowned.

"But..." Oberyn cut in with a venomous smirk "He did have a counteroffer."

Elia rolled her eyes. "He suggested I wed your little brother."

Jaime stiffened, and Y/N’s mouth fell open in horror. "Tyrion?" they both gasped in shock.

Elia nodded. "As an insult, no doubt."

"And here I thought Tywin Lannister was known for his tact." Oberyn mused, shaking his head.

Jaime bristled, insulted by the free way the two siblings were talking. "You don’t have to accept it."

"Oh, we would never." Elia assured him with a tired smile.

Oberyn, however, had turned his gaze back to Y/N, his smirk growing playful. "But perhaps I was meant to marry the beautiful rose, not the feisty lioness, after all." he purred, stepping closer to her. "You seem far more interesting than your golden-haired friend; Mother told me only praises of you - The Queen of Thorns raised quite the beauty. "

Y/N’s eyes widened, being rendered speechless, as Jaime immediately stepped between them, scowling. "Don’t be foolish, Martell." Jaime snapped. "She is betrothed to me."

"A tragedy, surely." Oberyn sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart. "But not one without its delights — I do enjoy a challenge."

Y/N flushed brightly at the Dornish Prince's boldness, as Jaime sneered further; Elia only laughed. "Do not let him tease you." she told Y/N warmly, taking her hand in hers. "My brother is reckless, but he means well."

Y/N smiled hesitantly. "I shall keep that in mind. Thank you, Princess." she replied, trying not to look at the way Jaime’s hand twitched at his side. For some reason, Elia's hand holding hers made her feel... Warm. It was a special kind of safeness and joy that she only had when playing around with her own sisters. How strange, feeling that with a girl she has only just met.

Oberyn winked. "Good. That makes it all the more fun."

Elia thought her brother was only hell-bent on humiliating the Lannisters, though the little rose proved to be his main source of interest. Was her brother actually interested in a girl to marry, for once? Usually he wasn't so delicate with girls he wanted to charm the skirts off. That night, the two Martell siblings chatted away until they fell asleep - How happy Oberyn was that he no longer had to marry such an awful girl - The mere thought of having to marry Cersei Lannister had him want to drown himself in the Water Gardens.

The two were very close with one another, and hoped to remain that way forever, sharing gossips and indulging in fun adventures together - One of them, of course, being the Tyrell rose - She was such a lovely girl, and so sweet once she actually started speaking to them; No more shyness as before, Y/N was giggling and laughing away with Elia and Oberyn at the feast, indulging in red wine like never before. Both Jaime and Cersei were shocked to see her like that - So free, so easy-going and haughty - She blended in with the two Dornish siblings almost perfectly; No wonder Highgarden and Dorne were so close to one another, the South was so lax and free of rules and regulations.

Y/N sat in front of Elia and Oberyn, between the two Lannister twins, sharing laughter and conversation, while Jaime sat strangely quiet and awkward; Cersei, meanwhile, was very clearly displeased, scowling over her goblet of wine as she watched her only friend bond with Elia in ways that the two of them never did before. What did that Dornish whore have that she didn't? She had black hair and black eyes, and looked average at best - And she wasn't the least bit interesting or special. Elia Martell wasn't a lioness like her - So why was she so much more interesting to Y/N than her?

"And then I met Baelor Hightower - He was a very nice young man - Or at least, that's what I thought. Half in love with him; Very gallant and sweet... That is..." both siblings bent over the table to speak in a hushed tone.

"He farted!" they said in union, making the three of them loud loudly and very peasantly.

"No way! Really?!" Y/N couldn't believe her ears. "That is horrible!"

"Now he is Ser Baelor Breakwind." Oberyn said confidently, making the girl double over laughing.

"I could not look at him anymore without laughing - Poor man!" Elia was crying tears of laughter.

"That sounds hilarious - Truly!" Y/N entertained them so; Jaime tried to laugh a little, but felt ashamed, whereas Cersei continued to drink herself into a jealous drunkness; Why did Y/N never laugh like that around her? Was she not as funny as that ugly peasant girl?

"I must say, Y/N, you remind me so much of home." Elia mused with a warm smile. "We do not often have guests who understand the importance of good company and gossip. All these serious men, always talking of battles and honor."

"Exactly!" Y/N agreed eagerly. "They act as if laughing and enjoying oneself is some kind of crime. But truly, they just don’t know how to have fun."

Elia chuckled, while Oberyn smirked. "That, little flower, is where I come in." he said smoothly, pouring more wine into Y/N’s cup before she could protest. "I am an expert in fun. I could teach you, if you’d like."

Y/N raised a brow at him, amused. "And what exactly would you teach me, my prince?"

"How to live, of course!" Oberyn said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You are too young to be caged in a place like this, burdened with duty. In Dorne, you would be free. No one would make you wed against your will. You would never have to birth heirs if you did not wish to. You could ride where you please, dance when you like, and no one would dare tell you otherwise."

Jaime made a face, finally speaking. "That’s easy to say when you’re not the heir to anything important. Just a second son meant to inherit nothing."

Oberyn laughed, unbothered. "Exactly, little foolish lion. That is the very best part." He turned back to Y/N, eyes twinkling. "I am not the Prince of Dorne, I am merely a prince of Dorne. That means I may do as I please. And if you were to come with me, so would you."

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. "You make it sound so tempting."

"That is because it is." he said, lifting his goblet to his lips, watching the beauty before him with his sparkling gem eyes.

Jaime clenched his jaw, while Cersei rolled her eyes. "You do realize she is to marry Jaime, don’t you?" Cersei said, her voice dripping with smugness. "She is betrothed to my twin. You may flirt all you like, but Y/N belongs to House Lannister. Not Dorne."

Oberyn didn’t even bat an eye. "Is that so?" he mused. He turned to Y/N, a teasing smile on his lips. "And tell me, my lady — Do you wish to belong to House Lannister?"

Y/N hesitated, and said nothing. Suddenly, the fun vanished, and she was placed behind two rocks that could kill her. She glanced at Jaime, who looked more sullen than anything, before shifting her gaze to Cersei — Who very much expected her to say yes.

Y/N sighed, placing down her goblet, sobering up. "My name is Y/N Tyrell, The Rose of the Realm, Lady of House Tyrell of Highgarden, daughter of the Warden of the South, protector of the Reach." she spoke, earning a widening grin from the Prince, who realised just what she was saying - She is her own master, and no one can own her.

"Then take a vacation - Come to Dorne." Oberyn said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched her with loving eyes, completely enamoured by her. "I shall steal you away, and we will see what adventures await you beyond these dull stone halls."

"You cannot steal what is already mine!" Cersei snapped, glaring and slamming her empty goblet on the table.

Oberyn laughed. "Yours? How curious. I see no collar around her neck."

Jaime scowled. "She’s not going anywhere."

"We shall see, little lion. Duty can only get you so far - Dissatisfaction gets you even farther." Oberyn mused, twirling his goblet between his fingers before looking back at Y/N. "If ever you find yourself longing for happiness and warmth, remember — Dorne is always warm, the Water Gardens are always open, and I will always be happy to escort you there myself."

Y/N bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. The thought of walking hand in hand with Oberyn and Elia, and having fun in the Water Gardens actually sounded fantastic. Elia giggled beside her. "You truly are shameless, brother." she said. "Though, I agree - Y/N, I would love it if you visited us someday. We could have so much fun."

"Oh, dear sister, that is not even the half of it." Oberyn winked.

Jaime scowled, Cersei fumed, and Y/N found herself laughing despite it all. It seemed Oberyn Martell had a way of making everything more interesting, the Tyrell girl thought to herself, somewhat blinded by the allure of freedom and hedonism, of a life filled with luxury yet none of the responsibility; The cries and death of Lady Joanna still haunted her, reverbing through every night terror she had;

But could she really forsake it all and run away, just for her own happiness?

The night was still, save for the whisper of the sea far below and the distant hoot of an owl. The candles in Y/N’s chamber had long since burned low, leaving only the glow of the moon spilling through her open balcony doors, along with her restless thoughts and the pain in her heart.

Why was choosing so difficult, she thought to herself, absent-mindedly staring at the ceiling. She wasn't truly betrothed to Jaime, they were far too young, of course - However, her mother and Jaime's mother were good friends, and alliance between their two houses was an outstanding power; Of course, the fact that the two of them got along so well was simply a coincidence, though a much pleasant one.

Yet there she is, racking her brains over a choice - And it wasn't just the illusion of choice that most people lament over - It was a true choice handed to her.

She met Jaime when they were so young, and they got along so well; He was so just and gallant, a true knight in the making, and Y/N was sure he will end up growing into such a strong and righteous man who would treat her right and protect her from any woe...

And then, there was Oberyn Martell, the half-mad Prince of Dorne; Already a young man, older and more experienced than her in both life and romance; He was insane enough to steal her away from the Rock and make her his Princess, lavish her with jewels and flowers and ride together into adventures... Possibly even indulge in hedonism and lust that would make even the most experienced whore ge flustered and blush... And for the first time in her life, Y/N felt excitement in her heart, and restlessness, as if her feet were burning to run with no shoes down the grassy field, so fast that she would end up flying like a cageless bird.

She was so... Bored to death, being the perfect little flower, here in the cold Westerlands; She wanted to go back home in the reach and ride with her sisters and hunt with her brother, to recite poems dramatically and play with her falcon... She wanted to decipher riddles with her mother, and dance and sing with the commonfolk surrounded by flowers of all kinds...

She hadn't realised how much she missed home, until Elia and Oberyn came into her life, reminding her of the sweet memories lingering in her heart, tugging at the strings and shrieking at her to return to her origins, down South where it was warmer and more welcoming.

"Truly, little rose, you ought to lock your doors." a familiar voice was followed by a thud and Y/N's imminent yet adorable squeak of surprise. "Unless, of course, you had been waiting for me, and to that, I would have to apologise for my tardiness. It is unbecoming of me to make such a lovely lady wait."

Y/N turned sharply, only to find Oberyn Martell perched upon her balcony, balanced effortlessly on the rail as if he had all the time in the world. His grin was wicked, his eyes gleaming in the dark. Just like a viper ready to steal her away from this life.

"Ryn...!" she hissed, rushing forward, not sure whether to scold or shush him. "Are you mad? What if someone sees you being an absolute menace, sneaking into my room like that?" though she scolded him, her fingers dug hastily into his disheveled open shirt and pulled him into the room to safety, checking for injuries all over.

"Then they will think I have good taste. I have always been a fan of sweet perfumes." he said easily, holding her hands gingerly. "Come, I have come to steal you away for one last adventure before I must return to the red sands of home."

Y/N crossed her arms, playing defiant. "You think I will just climb out of my own chamber like a common thief? Do you not know it is unlady-like for one of my status - Betrothed, no less - To be roaming around with a bachelor like yourself, in the shroud of mystery and the veil of night?"

Oberyn bent at the waist and offering a suave yet provoking smirk. "Do you need me to carry you, then? Young ladies like yourself truly have high standards these days." she swatted at him with a bratty huff, but he only laughed, catching her wrist and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of it. "Do not make me beg, sweet girl." he murmured against her skin. "Come walk with me one last time, before I must leave you behind in this prison of stone and gold."

"What if I do want you to beg? Would you do that?" with an air of arrogance that clearly wasn't quite working (Oberyn found it quite funny, in fact, how coy she was playing, as opposed to the snobby Cersei and her unbecoming arrogance), Y/N looked away from the Martell prince, as if she wasn't even noticing his presence.

"Aye, but of course, for such a beauty -- " he gallantly went on one knee, holding her hand and kissing her fingers gently. "I would even beg on my knees for favour."

Y/N hesitated. But gods, how could she say no? The Dornish retinue was to leave back to Sunspear the following morning; That was the last time she would be seeing Oberyn in a long time, she was well aware... Denying his offer would make her regret her entire life...

Perhaps, just a little bit of naughtiness couldn't hurt, could it?

With a sigh, she grabbed a cloak from her chair and threw it over her shoulders. "You have earned my time, I suppose..." she cleared her throat as a way to hide the rosy hue of her cheeks.

Oberyn grinned before hopping back to his feet and picking Y/N up like a princess and sneaking through the quiet halls and down into the moonlit gardens, where the scent of roses and lavender filled the cool night air.

For a while, Oberyn didn't want to let Y/N down, and he walked like that just holding her in his arms, as if she was as light as a rose; Though he knew, something was awfully wrong, by the way she was so awfully silent and snuggling into the crook of his neck as if she was nothing more than a baby kitten.

"You are too quiet, little rose." Oberyn said, glancing at her. "What could be ailing that a lovely dove?"

Y/N exhaled. "I..." her voice was as sweet as a whisper. "I am afraid of the power of choice and consequence."

"Ah, thought so." he said, carefully placing her on the ground. "For someone who has lived a pre-determined life, a story already written, to be facing a crossroad with different destinations... Well, I do not envy you, sweet girl." he let out a dry chuckle. "At least you are wise enough to know you deserve better than to be shackled by duty."

"Duty is all I have ever known." she admitted. "And the love of my parents, who wish for me to live a happy life bound to a man who would care for me as if I was a porcelain doll."

Oberyn’s playful expression softened. "What great parents you have, sweet rose." he said, stepping in front of her and twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "And between duty and love, what is it that truly terrifies you?"

She swallowed. "What terrifies me is the intersection between duty and love." she hesitated, her voice faltering.

Oberyn, ever perceptive, filled in the blanks. "You are afraid of childbirth." he murmured, watching with gentle eyes as Y/N looked away, her hands tightening in her cloak with great shame. "I know. Elia told me." he continued, his voice ever darling. "To be afraid, and to be unable to speak it out, in fear of snubbing and judgement. You are not the first, nor the last woman in such position - And once again, I do not envy your position." his rough hand was warm, caressing her delicate face. "Men are simple creatures - We get drunk, we get our cock buried deep in some pretty woman, and we run to war." he picked her chin, raising it up. "I do not claim to be a saint. I will not lie to you - I am as much of a whore as the girls in the brothel, except I don't get paid. I like women, and I like men, the same as I like to shed blood and kill. If you marry me, I will not promise you faithfulness, but I can promise you safety, luxury and understanding. I do not require children of you, nor will I ever." his other hand sneaked around her waist, pulling her closer to his body.

"Then why... Are you doing this...?" her voice was so soft that he almost didn't hear her; A good question - One which made him chuckle, looking down into those sparkling eyes of her, gleaming in the silver light of the moon.

"Not from the goodness of my heart, nor from selflessness, of course." he joked. "Not only did Elia like you very much - But you are also a beauty that has intrigued me so."

"Beauty is not what captivated you, Ryn." his smile widened.

"Not alone, true, though it paid a good part in it." he said. "Truth is, you are what Elia would have been, if she weren't so sick. Now, don't get me wrong, I haven't gotten smitten with you because you remind me of my sister - I am not those foolish lion cubs - But you are... Just like a little kitten, trying to look all cute and graceful, but you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to run around hunting mice and scratching the drapes to ribbons."

"Are you calling me a mischief, Ryn? My, how unbecoming of me - I have become haughty!" she tried to laugh it off, but it caused no effect.

Oberyn looked down at the girl, and his smile softened. "Your heart belongs to Jaime Lannister, doesn't it?" she remained silent as she averted her sight away from him. "Thought so. He is the dream of every little lady, isn't he? A gallant knight to take care of the fair lady."

Y/N looked at him then — Truly looked. The way the moonlight kissed his sun-bronzed skin, the way his dark hair framed his sharp features. He was beautiful, and he was tempting.

But her heart was torn.

"Jaime... He... He is not like Cersei." her breath was hitched in her throat. "He... Is very kind with me, and very sweet. He is genuine... And a little dumb sometimes, but not in a bad way. I mean... He is very... Innocent and pure. He is... Like a ray of sunshine. That's how I see him... And when he smiles... When he is happy, he... He is just so..."

Oberyn studied her for a long moment before letting out a small sigh. "What a lucky lad." he said. "I've heard enough, sweetling. No need to tease me more, I understand your heart better than you do." he said, pulling her closer. "Just know, if the lions ever forget their place, and you find yourself feeling all alone, that half of my bed shall remain empty only for you, and that I will marry no woman but you." hearing such a bold statement, Y/N tried to protest - Except, she was hushed instantly.

"And if I never do?" she asked, almost terrified to know the answer.

Oberyn’s fingers brushed her cheek. "Then I shall mourn the loss of my sweetest dream." she felt her heart clench, and gleaming crystal tears started stinging her eyes. "Now, now, sweet girl, don't cry over me - Instead, let me teach you one little trick that you can use on that fool, to see if he truly loves you."

"Wh-What...?" the girl stammered over her words, unable to understand his meaning.

"When you get bold enough to go for a kiss, do this --" he cupped her face carefully, making her look him in the eyes. "Look into his eyes, and see deep into his soul - Don't ask me to explain, you will understand when it happens - And then... Lean in slowly..." his lips captured her soft ones, as pink and soft as the petals of a flower, and sweeter than anyone he's ever tasted before. He was going crazy, his body felt hot and his hands wanted to grip her body and feel her skin; He was suffocating with love and lust all over. "... you will know."

He observed the small pants of her breath, and the sparkle of her eyes as she looked up at him as if she'd seen the Gods. He knew - And now, so did she.

"Yes." she breathed out. "I do know, now." and before she could stop herself, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, embroidered handkerchief. "Here..." she said, pressing it into his hand. "Something to remember me by."

Oberyn glanced down, fingers tracing over the intricate golden suns stitched into the soft fabric. His lips quirked, twitching into a smile. "Ah. You wound me, little flower — This will only make me miss you more."

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was as soft as it was fleeting. It was not a kiss of conquest, nor of demand. It was a kiss of promise. Of something unfinished. Of reunion, not of confession like the one before.

When he pulled away, he sighed. "Ah, if only I had met you first."

Y/N smiled, though her eyes were misty. "Goodbye, Oberyn."

He smirked, stepping back into the shadows. "Not forever, sweet girl. Just for now." and with that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the garden, clutching her lips, and wondering if fate was truly so cruel.

That night, she did not sleep - Instead, she pondered over his words - Now, she knows - Yes, she knows, Oberyn's feelings for her; She felt those through that kiss; He was genuine, he was true. And he, also, knows her feelings for him - Though, he knows her heart better than even she, and he knew, she loved Jaime, not him. How peculiar love is - An emotion she does not comprehend as well as she thought she did.

Perhaps that mattered little - The sweet dream will be over in the morn, and with it, so will the reverie. Oberyn and Elia will be back in Dorne, and Jaime will be going away from the Rock for his training as a squire; That meant Y/N was finally free to return home where she was happiest and safest, away from problems and responsibilities - And away from the love confusion she created for herself.

Tywin Lannister's ambitions remain big, and for Prince Viserys' birth, he hosted a tourney at Lannisport; Once again, Y/N and the twins were inseparable as they watched the jousting and cheered for the finest knights;

Of course, Cersei was completely head over heels in love, watching Prince Rhaegar Targaryen winning joust after joust, defeating the likes of Tywin's finest knights - And even the renowned Barristan the Bold! Everyone was cheering for the Young Dragon -- Only for him to lose to the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne - That is when Jaime started cheering the hardest; He worshiped Ser Dayne more than anything - And he wanted to become just like him.

Of course, the Crown Prince was then knighted, and Cersei couldn't stop babbling about her supposed future husband - Her aunt, Lady Genna, had told her their betrothal will be announced at the feast, and she was so excited to marry such a gorgeous and strong Prince!

Thoughts of Jaime were no longer in her head - Y/N can have Jaime, for all she cares - As long as she has Rhaegar Targaryen, she was happy;

That night, Cersei climbed into Y/N's bed, shaking her awake. "Don't you dare sleep, Y/N. I've got plans for us." she said, before dragging Y/N, along with her other two bedmaids, Melara and Jeyne, towards the forest, at the tent of the witch, Maggy the Frog.

The air was thick with the scent of damp moss and rotting leaves, the distant hoot of an owl cutting through the quiet as four cloaked figures slipped through the trees. The tourney grounds were far behind them now, the laughter of revelers and the clang of steel lost to the whispering night.

"We shouldn't have left the camp." one of the bedmaids muttered. "If we’re caught — "

"We won’t be caught." Cersei interrupted sharply. "Unless you keep whining and get us lost."

"Uh... Cersei...? Are you sure you know what you're doing...?" Y/N wasn't particularly afraid, rather, she was confused and uncomfortable at the idea of seeking fortune from an old crone. She was never superstitious, and she believed people forge their own fates - However, there was a little bit of a gnawing thought at the back of her head, screaming at her to run away.

"Don't be a craven, Y/N. We'll get your prophecy also. Now hush - Get inside." the lioness spat, shoving Y/N further.

Ahead, nestled between gnarled trees, was a crooked tent, its thatched roof sagging as though burdened by centuries of secrets. The only light came from within, flickering behind crude shutters. Y/N felt the chill before they even stepped inside.

Cersei was the first to push through the sheer leather door. A sickly-sweet aroma of herbs and decay clung to the air. Maggy the Frog expecting them.

Her skin was sallow, her lips shriveled, her eyes like frog slits in a face wrinkled and worn by time and warts. She was seated behind a battered table, three bowls of some dark, viscous liquid set before her.

The girl with the golden curls put her hands upon her hips. "Give us our foretelling, or I'll go to my Lord Father and have you whipped for insolence."

"Please..." begged Melara. "Just tell us our futures, then we'll go."

"Some are here who have no futures-" Maggy muttered in her terrible deep voice. She pulled her robe about her shoulders and beckoned the girls closer. "Come, if you will not go. Fools. Come, yes. I must taste your blood."

Melara paled, but not Cersei. A lioness does not fear a frog, no matter how old and ugly she might be. She should have gone, she should have listened, she should have run away. Instead she took the dagger Maggy offered her, and ran the twisted iron blade across the ball of her thumb. Then she did Melara too.

In the dim green tent, the blood seemed more black than red. Maggy's toothless mouth trembled at the sight of it. "Here..." she whispered. ".... give it here." when Cersei offered her hand, she sucked away the blood with gums as soft as a newborn babe's. Y/N looked with disgust, her body cringing away from the sight.

"Three questions may you ask." the crone said, once she'd had her drink. "You will not like my answers. Ask, or begone with you."

But Cersei was unrelenting and ever confident. "When will I wed the prince?" she asked.

"Never. You will wed the king."

Beneath her golden locks, the girl's face wrinkled up in puzzlement. Did that mean she will marry Prince Rhaegar after King Aerys died? Was he ill? Was that why her father and aunt told her about the betrothal so soon? "I will be queen, then?" asked the girl again.

"Aye." malice gleamed in Maggy's citrine yellow eyes. "Queen you shall be... Until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear." Y/N was sure she had heard that in some fable sung by a bard at a tavern. There was no way that was true, she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. Far too unspecific.

Anger flashed across Cersei's face. "If she tries I will have my brother kill her." wrathful as she was, she still had one more question due her, one more glimpse into her life to come. "Will the king and I have children?" she asked.

"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you."

That made no sense to Cersei. Her thumb was throbbing where she'd cut it, and her blood was dripping on the carpet. How could that be? she wanted to ask, but she was done with her questions. She looked at Y/N, who looked back at her - She was just as confused, yet held a solemn look on her face. She must be sensing something amiss.

The old woman was not done with her, however. "Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds." she said. "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

"What is a valonqar? Some monster?" the golden girl did not like that foretelling. "You're a liar and a warty frog and a smelly old savage, and I don't believe a word of what you say." Cersei huffed in anger, stomping her foot on the ground before grabbing Y/N's hand.

Y/N was silent, and she looked at her golden friend with a pondering look. "You got us all the way here to hear your future, but you are not happy with it." came her cold reply. "Granted, I agree with you - Everything the witch has foretold sounded like nothing more than the stories old nan used to tell us when we were nothing but babes. Fairy tales and bard songs for children who love dreaming. Nothing specific to you, nor something that could prove her craft." no, she was lying, and by the ugly grin on the witch's face, she knew she was found out. "Witch Maggy, my name is Y/N of house Tyrell. I shall give you blood, so in return, grant me three questions. Fair exchange?"

The old woman grinned disgustingly. "As fair as a deal can be, little rose." she tapped her fingers together with enthuse, watching the young lady cut her finger and offering her blood for her to lick off. "Mhh, sweet blood, like a flower's honey. Your answers might be more to your liking than your friends' over there." she let out a broken cackle. "Ask away, ask away."

"Here is an easy one - Like any lady, I am interested - Who will I marry?" Y/N stood tall, eyeing the old witch for her response. She knew best what was in her heart, what was in her life - Any bit of specifics, she will know.

The witch inhaled deeply. Then she exhaled a long, slow breath — One that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. "Two men shall claim your hand - A red viper, swift and deadly; A golden lion, valiant and proud" she foretold. "One shall dance under the red Sun, while the other will sing under the golden Moon." that... Sure was cryptic enough, Y/N thought to herself; It wasn't difficult to guess the two people involved, though the cause of it sure was mysterious.

"Will I have any children?" came her most feared question,

"Your womb shall be as the winter earth — cold, barren, untouched by spring. No babe shall suckle at your breast. No heir shall cry your name."

Her breath hitched. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or fear curling around her ribs. Y/N's hands trembled, along with her heart. Would a husband cast her aside for this? Would she be tossed away like a withered rose, unwanted and forgotten?

She felt Cersei’s fingers curl around her wrist, nails biting into her skin. Cersei was smiling, albeit, bitterly.

"Poor Y/N." she murmured, feigning pity. "No children for you. No little lions. No legacy." even better, Cersei thought to herself - If Jaime and Y/N don't have children, they can't have reason to return to the Rock and leave her alone in King's Landing.

She was pleased - And Y/N knew very well why. Cersei was never as smart as she was, nor did she listen to her father's words when he told her so. Pity.

"Why will I have to marry a second time?" came the last question.

"The viper shall topple over the mountain, yet perish beneath its weight." Y/N frowned at the thought of Oberyn dying, thought she couldn't comprehend why. "You, who shall free the lion of its shackles, shall lead the pride."

Cersei's hand squeezed Y/N's so hard that she thought it would shatter. "Go now, little flower." Maggy crooned. "And remember… All prophecy is a curse, for it binds those who seek to escape it."

"I get three questions too!" Melara's meek voice squeaked out, and when Cersei and Jeyne tugged upon her arm, she wriggled free and turned back to the crone. "Will I marry Jaime?" she blurted out.

You stupid girl, Cersei thought, angry at the idea - She could live with Jaime marrying Y/N, provided they stand by her side - But Melara? Jaime does not even know you are alive, you dumb broad. Jaime lives only for swords and dogs and horses... And for her and Y/N.

"No, you absolute idiot - Did you not hear? Jaime - My betrothed - Shall marry me." Y/N rolled her eyes at her idiocy; "If you want to marry Jaime, you first have to let him know you exist, you lowborn fool." it wasn't often that Y/N spat out such vile insults - It even surprised Cersei, who felt proud of her.

"B-But... I-I... I loved him...!" there were defiant tears in her eyes.

"Hush now, Mel, no need to get upset. There are plenty of pretty boys for our status." Jeyne tried to sooth her friend,

"Not Jaime, nor any other man." said Maggy. "Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close."

"The only breath we smell is yours." said Cersei. There was a jar of some thick potion by her elbow, sitting on a table. She snatched it up and threw it into the old woman's eyes.

Y/N stumbled back from, Cersei pulling her away, and they ran away into the cold night air, followed by Melara and Jeyne. Once they got back to the retinue, Jeyne sneaked back to her chambers, pretending she never even knew the existence of a witch.

Melara, however... Wasn't as lucky.

"What gives you the right to marry Jaime, and not me?" the poor idiot dared to speak back to Y/N, making both the flower and the lioness look back at her with terrifying eyes. "I love Jaime - Truly, I do! More than you ever will!" her declaration was bold and false. "You just marry him for wealth and status - Besides - What good are you to the future heir of Casterly Rock when you are a failure as a woman and cannot birth him heirs?!"

"It would serve you well to shut your mouth, Melara. If my Lord Father hears about the treason you are spewing, he would sear your tongue off himself." Y/N wasn't expecting Cersei, of all people, to side with her - But in a morbid way, she was enjoying it. "Besides, my brother loves Y/N - Everyone knows that. There is no competition - Especially not from some peasant girl like you. You should count your blessings that we even know your name at all. Clearly you don't deserve even that much grace."

"You are a vile, manipulative, evil liar!" Melara shouted, backing away in tears. "You don't speak for Jaime! I want to hear it from his mouth, not yours! He is gallant and just and fair - Unlike you two!"

"Melara." Y/N stepped forward with such morbid elegance that it resembled a ghost. Melara's blood froze in her veins and was unable to stop Tyrell's hands from wrapping around her neck. "Can you smell the stench of death?" she asked, pushing her backwards, towards the well. "Because you reek of it."

"LET ME GO! HELP, SOMEBODY---"

But it was too late; Once Cersei leaped to help her friend, she slapped her hand over Melara's hand and together, they pushed her down her well, to her doom.

"At least we know the witch was right about one prophecy." Y/N grumbled, dusting herself off. "I guess this remains our little secret." she said, offering the lioness her pinky finger.

"It has always been the two of us, Y/N. In duty and in joy." the lioness smiled, hooking her pinky to her friend's. With this crime committed, they were ever closer - Closer than they've ever been before - Closer than that Dornish whore would ever hope to be to her best and only friend.

And thus, they shared a secret that will be their forever, until the dawn of time - Though Y/N refused to tell Cersei she knew the meaning of the word 'valonqar' ; She didn't want to make her hate poor Tyrion even more than she already did, though she was sure it was inevitable, with how she blamed Joanna's death on him. She shall never change.

Before long, Jaime was no longer a squire, but a knight, sered by no other than Ser Arthur Dayne himself - His greatest honour, he must be so proud, Y/N thought to herself with immense joy, as she waited his return in King's Landing; By now, Y/N had also remained in King's Landing to be Elia Martel's lady in waiting as she married Prince Rhaegar, much to Cersei's dismay, having to live three years in the castle, only the watch the man you fell in love with, marry and sire children with the Dornish whore who wanted to steal both her brother and her best friend.

She deserved to die, like sickly ugly thing.

Alas, that idiot, Y/N, was taking good care of her, even after the birth of their first child, Princess Rhaenys. What an ugly, squalling thing. HER children would never be that disgusting and loud.

Cersei was livid - She felt invisible to even her only friend, as though she did not matter anymore. How could she not? She was Cersei Lannister - There was no way that sand bitch was better than her. She deserved to die. She deserved to perish in a most brutal and torturous way.

Y/N was hers. ONLY hers. And so do Jaime and Rhaegar.

All three of them shall be hers, one way or another, even if she had to topple over the mountains and drain the oceans.

Thus came her brilliant idea - When Jaime was to return to King's Landing, they would meet up at an old inn, and she would bewitch him into a scheme; A most clever scheme, of which even her father would be proud - A scheme that would ensure both Y/N and Jaime remain by her side forever and ever and ever.

aime found Cersei waiting for him in the high tower, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Her beauty was sharper than a blade, her smile as knowing as a cat’s. She had summoned him, and as always, he came.

"Jaime." she murmured, stepping closer, her fingers trailing up his arm. "You are finally the knight you've always dreamt to be. Congratulations to you." she said, drawing closer to him. "You must be happy - Thrilled, even. Thrilled enough to spend the night with your fair lady, perhaps?" she purred into his ear. "Or... You would rather have me, the one who loves you most in this world? The one to whom your soul is bound for life and death?"

"I..." Jaime blinked, his head hung, feeling a little dazed. "I wanted to tell Y/N. She's been waiting for me all this time. I want to make her proud - To make her happy. She's encouraged and supported me so long... I..."

Cersei’s lips pressed together, displeasure flashing in her green eyes. But she smoothed it away, tilting her head as if in sympathy.

"Then you are happy with the marriage?" she asked. "To be tied to her? To live your days as Lord of Casterly Rock, ruling, scheming, passing dull judgments while your wife bears you children embroiders handkerchiefs?"

Jaime hesitated. When she put it like that... Being a Lord did not sound quite as exciting as he thought it would... But he had so much fun with Y/N as a child - Life with her couldn't ever be dull... Right?

"That’s not what you dreamed of, is it?" she pressed, her voice a whisper now, close enough that he could smell the perfume on her skin — Flowers and oils, intoxicating. "You wanted to be a knight. A true knight."

Jaime swallowed. "I am a knight."

"Are you?" she breathed. "Not yet. Not like Ser Arthur Dayne, not like Ser Barristan Selmy. Their names will be sung for a thousand years. Will yours?" Jaime stiffened, the words cutting deeper than he expected.

"You have always wanted to be like them - And Y/N knows this. She's a good girl. She will understand. You are a golden lion like no other - You were made for glory and fame." she continued, stroking his cheek, peppering him with poison kisses. "And now you can. You are already the youngest knight in the realm, but imagine—" she smiled, and gods, how beautiful she was when she smiled. "—if you became the youngest Kingsguard in history."

His breath caught. "You could stand beside the greatest knights in the realm, your greatest deeds written in that stupid book they have for the Kingsguard members." she murmured. "Ride with them, fight with them, be one of them. And when people speak of the Kingsguard, they will not just name Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy. They will name you, Jaime Lannister, the Lion of the Rock, the youngest ever knight to be cloaked in white."

The thought sent a thrill through him. "And best of all..." Cersei continued. "You will be at my side, always. Protecting me, watching over me. No matter who I wed, we will be together in King’s Landing. The same goes for your sweet Y/N - She won't leave that bitch's side any time soon; She will remain here, in King's Landing all the same. You can bed her from time to time, whenever you miss her. Surely, she misses you by now."

Jaime looked away, his jaw tightening. "Or..." she purred, stepping around him, her fingers gliding over his chest. "You could move to Casterly Rock, all alone and away from the battlefield; Watch Y/N wed you in duty, not love. Watch her bear your children, but keep her heart locked away, because it is no longer yours."

Jaime frowned. "What are you saying?" there was no way -- The Y/N he knew held his heart, and he held hers.

Cersei’s lips curled in mock sympathy. "Oh, Jaime, you don’t see it? Oberyn Martell stole her heart the moment he laid eyes on her." she leaned in, whispering. "Do you remember that day, when the retinue came to our home? Did you forget the way she smiled at him? How she blushed under his gaze? How easily they spoke, laughed, like they had known each other all their lives?"

Jaime’s stomach twisted. "Do you think she would have embroidered a handkerchief for you?" Cersei murmured, tilting her head. "She gave him something to remember her by. She let him kiss her. And now he’s gone, off to Dorne, taking a piece of her with him." she continued with her vile tongue. "Did you know - Whenever that Dornish snake comes to visit his sand whore of a sister, he always spends the night in Y/N's chambers?"

Jaime clenched his fists. "But it doesn’t have to matter." Cersei said, drawing his face to hers. "Because you have me - And I would never betray you. We are twins, after all, are we not? If we cannot trust each other - Than who can we trust?"

Her lips hovered close — Too close.

"Father knows of the Martel Prince and Y/N; I heard him speaking to the Tully Lord about changing your betrothal to Lysa Tully - That oversized fat cow, remember? You don't want that, do you?" Jaime's look was that of sheer and utter disgust. "Come to King’s Landing, Jaime. Join the Kingsguard. Take the white cloak, become the knight you always dreamed of. And at night, when the castle sleeps, you will find your way to me, and I will be yours, as I have always been. Let father have his legacy. Let Y/N pine for the Dornish Prince..." Cersei rose her skirts and undid his breeches, sitting on his lap. "... or fuck the Dorne out of her mind. It is all the same. The three of us - We belong together; She's just lost her way, surely... I have heard those Martels have magic blood - They must have bewitched poor Y/N. We must bring her back to us, show her the way. She is one of us. We cannot lose her."

Her fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently. "The three of us belong together. That is the only truth that matters." Jaime closed his eyes, torn between reason and desire. Between honor and love. "Join the Kingsguard, and you can have it all." Cersei eased into him, and the young knight lost all reason.

"I shall join the Kingsguard."

But that was a decision he had to talk with his betrothed; In secret, he visited Y/N's chambers, late at night. Sneaking out, they go into the gardens, away from prying eyes - Though Y/N, most of all, is well aware of the whispers and gossips of the palace. Nowhere was safe.

The night air was thick with the scent of lemon trees and jasmine, the gardens of the Red Keep bathed in the silver light of the moon. The hum of crickets filled the silence, a peaceful contrast to the endless courtly games within the castle walls.

Y/N wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she stepped cautiously over the cobbled path. A warm hand caught hers, steadying her. "Careful." Jaime murmured, his voice quiet yet filled with familiar warmth.

She smiled softly up at him, her fingers curling against his palm before she let go. "You’ve changed." she observed, tilting her head. "You stand taller, prouder." she beamed at him. "You have become a true man."

Jaime grinned, glancing down at his freshly knighted hands, as though seeing them for the first time. "Ser Arthur Dayne knighted me himself." he admitted, voice laced with pride. "I want to be like him, Y/N. A true knight, one whose name will be remembered long after I am gone."

"The Sword of the Morning himself. What an honour." there was something bright in his gaze, something fierce and determined, but beneath it lay a quiet doubt. A hesitation he had yet to voice.

Y/N turned toward him fully, taking in the golden-haired boy who had been her closest friend since childhood. "You always wanted to be a knight." she said softly. "And now you are one." yet his nervousness was clear to the girl. "... A knighthood isn't enough for you, is it? You want more." Jaime's eyes widened in shock, and he looked away towards the walls of the Red Keep - Looming, suffocating. "You want to join the Kingsguard, don't you?"

The words sent a pang through his chest. "How did you know?"

"I have suspected that for a few years now, to be fair." she smiled sweetly at him. "You are brave and just, just like Ser Barristan the Bold and Ser Arthur Dayne - Both of which belong to the Kingsguard. The finest knights of the realm - The protectors of the people."

"You think... I am like them?" the golden lion had an almost boyish wonder in his eyes, flattered yet almost afraid to inquire for more.

"Ever since I have known you, yes, I have thought you were going to become a knight worthy of the greatest stories..." Y/N looked down with a sad smile. "Even if that meant you could never hold love for me, the same way I love you."

"Y/N..." he whispered out her name, his arms shooting up instinctually to hold her, but then he stopped abruptly. "I... I am sorry, I... I just..."

"That's alright. I understand." Y/N offered him a smile - It looked bittersweet and heartbroken. "I have been trying to come to peace with the idea for a while now. I did not expect you would be knighted so soon, truly - I thought I would still have your love for a few more years, maybe even marry first before you got to make that decision..." he remained quiet, frozen in place. "Alas..."

"Forgive me." he whispered. "I truly love you, Y/N." he confessed. "I love you with all my heart - I swear I do - I really do. You mean everything to me, I---"

"Hush now. You are a man, you must not fumble over your words like that." Y/N let out an amused breath. "Don't worry about me. Worry about your father. He will go mad when he hears your decision."

"Well... I suppose..." he gulped, looking down.

"Your sister must be happy. She will have you by her side all the time. Protecting her." Jaime looked at her, as if caught with a lie.

"I... Don't know what to say..." he admitted shamefully. "You... Are right. Both times, you are right." and she was right in silently deducing it was Cersei's ploy all the same, he realised.

Y/N was silent for a moment. She inhaled deeply, steadying her thoughts, her heart. There was a time when she believed her life and Jaime’s would be forever entwined, that they would grow old together, ruling over Casterly Rock - That future was fading like a dying ember. Just like Maggy the Frog said.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

"If this is what you truly want, Jaime." she said, her voice a whisper, "Then I will always stand by you and support you every step of the way."

Jaime’s breath hitched, his gaze snapping to hers. "You will?" he asked, bewildered by her loving tone. He thought she would be mad, hysterical, sobbing - But... Her reaction... Hurt him even more. She was as kind and loving with him as he remembers... What has he done?

"Of course." She smiled, warm and steady, despite the ache in her heart. "No matter where you go, no matter what you choose, my heart will always be yours. Even if we are not bound by marriage, even if our paths diverge. I will love you all the same."

Jaime blinked, as though trying to process the weight of her words. "Y/N…" His voice was unsteady.

"You are kind, Jaime." she continued, her eyes soft as she traced his features. "You are brave, and righteous, and good. You are a knight in the truest sense of the word, and I am proud of you." she held his hands, squeezing them dearly. "Do not let the world change who you are, my love."

Jaime exhaled sharply, almost as if the praise pained him. His fingers curled around hers, holding on as though she was an anchor in the storm of his thoughts. For so long, he had been told he was nothing without Cersei, that no one else would love him the way she did. But here was Y/N, looking at him with unwavering warmth, with admiration that was not manipulative, nor possessive. Just genuine, pure devotion.

"You deserve happiness, Jaime." she whispered. "And if this is what makes you happy, then I will not stand in your way."

Jaime opened his mouth, but no words came. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, Cersei’s voice echoed—"She loves Oberyn. She has already chosen another."

But looking at Y/N now, standing before him with all the tenderness in the world, he knew — Cersei had lied. All this time, she had lied.

Jaime swallowed thickly, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening, unable to let go.

"I should return." she said softly. "Elia will wonder where I am." Jaime nodded stiffly. "Before I go - May I ask for one single favour?"

"O-Of course. Anything for you." he declared whole-heartedly.

She reacher her finger up, brushing away a stray tear from his emerald eye. "Do not cry, Jaime Lannister - It was your decision. Do not regret it now." she said with a playful smile. "I will teach you a little trick - To see if someone truly loves you." she giggled, remembering her late-night lesson.

"Wh-What...?" the boy stammered over his words, unable to understand his meaning.

"When you get bold enough to go for a kiss, do this --" she cupped her face carefully, making him look her in the eyes. "Look into her eyes, and see deep into her soul - Don't ask me to explain, you will understand when it happens - And then... Lean in slowly..." her soft lips captured his chapped ones, rough and broken by the wind, yet sweet and plump like no other. She was going crazy, her body felt hot and her hands wanted to grip his body and feel his skin; She was suffocating with love and lust all over. "... you will know."

Y/N observed the small pants of his breath, and the sparkle of his eyes as he looked down at her as if he'd seen the Gods. Shee knew - And now, so did he.

"Yes..." he breathed out. "I do know, now." realisation blasted him like a brick in the head, striking his heart with a crossbow arrow - That kiss meant to him more than what he and Cersei had shared just a few hours previous. The lies she told him, just to keep him closer to her... Was it all worth it? Was it worth giving away Y/N's sweet love, for honour and fame and glory, and his twin's bed?

Y/N reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, embroidered handkerchief. "Here..." she said, pressing it into his hand. "Something to remember me by." it was embroidered with a golden lion among flowers, the same handkerchief she made years ago as she was watching him spar. She only worked on that when he was sparring, he remembers. He truly can't believe she held onto that...

"I shall be seeing you around, Jaime. I am wishing you only the best in the world." she turned around, pulling her hood on. "I love you." and she faded into the darkness.

As he stood there, alone in the gardens, he felt a hollow ache settle deep within him. For the first time, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

Cersei's plan, however, did not go as smoothly as she'd hoped, for Tywin Lannister saw Jaime joining the Kingsguard a slight from the King against him - First, he refused having Jaime as a squire and Cersei and the Crown Prince's Consort, and now, he wants to take away his own heir; Cersei was taken back to the Rock, while Jaime was all alone in King's Landing... All alone, with Y/N. All alone, to witness the madness that everyone was whispering about.

The Madness of King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name.

He witness the King growing more paranoid by the minute, suspecting his own servants, his own family of treason; He had honorable knights and lords killed with Wildfire right in front of him, and Jaime's heart shattered with each of them. He became disillusioned, broken and disappointed - This wasn't what he wanted to become - Protector of a mad man who massacred the people he was supposed to rule over.

There was only so much he could 'Go away inside', as Ser Gerold Hightower taught him, and in turn, he also would teach others; And when he witnessed the unfair executions of both Lord Rickard Stark and his heir, Brandon, he felt goosebumps all over his skin, and bile coming into his mouth.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Yet in spite of all this, what hurt the most was not the lost promise of a legacy, nor the fact that Cersei was no longer with him, or that the King chose him not for his skill, but to spite his father --

No.

What hurt the most was seeing how terrified Y/N was every day of her life.

He had to guard outside the chamber whenever the King would want to bed the Queen - And Y/N, also, would await just outside, to tend to the Queen afterwards; Each time, she would tremble more, would cry more, would melt and wither away... And he felt all the same.

Hearing the cries of agony coming from Queen Rhaella as she was bitten and mauled and clawed by her own husband during what should have been a most sweet and intimate act between two lovers...

Seeing Y/N in such a state hurt his heart, but hearing her describe the Queen's torture and the marks on her body, her suffering, at the hands of her own husband... It hurt just as much.

"We are the Kingsguard - We protect the Realm, the people... That includes the Queen also, doesn't it?" he asked once - A pure and innocent question, that of a young lad, Ser Hightower said.

"Just 'Go away inside', young man. We swore a vow to protect the King, not to judge him. As much as it pains me to say, we have to protect the Queen, aye - But not from the King himself, we cannot." it wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't just. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

No man should ever hurt his woman. No Lord should ever hurt his Lady. No King should ever hurt his Queen.

Y/N stood in the dimly lit hallway, supporting her weight by leaning on the cold stone walls just outside the Queen’s chambers. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt incense, masking the stench of blood and fear that lingered behind the great doors.

Jaime stood beside her, on the other side of the door, his newly polished armor gleaming in the torchlight, but his face was pale, his jaw clenched tight, trying to fade away into the old memory of a happy life - The dream of a happy future with Y/N - A future that he threw away down the river with his own two hands.

From inside, muffled cries echoed through the stone walls — Queen Rhaella’s cries was reverbring through the cold halls like a tidal wave meant to drown the castle.

Jaime’s hands curled into fists. He had seen battle. He had trained with the best knights in the realm. But this? This was something else entirely. He was not prepared for this kind of brutality, nor did he want to be. Not when he had a duty to protect, and he was unable to.

Y/N stood stiffly, her hands trembling at her sides, wrinkling her skirts. Jaime could see it now — Truly see it. The way she clenched her teeth to keep her lips from quivering. The way her breathing was shallow, controlled. The side of Y/N that he'd never imagined he would see - Y/N, terrified, petrified out of her wits. And she had every reason to be. She was there where the Starks were killed. She was there when the Queen was abused. She was there when so many were burnt alive. The horrors, the crimes, the atrocities committed by the King himself - She had seen them all, in the past years since she's been at the court.

"Y/N…" he whispered her name, making her flinch at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tensing before she slowly turned to him. Her eyes — Gods, her doe eyes — Were wide, filled with unspoken terror and pooling with tears threatening to fall. How pitiful, how terrible.

"It’s alright." he murmured, reaching for her hand without thinking. She took it, fingers cold as ice. "Just try to Go away inside. It's the only way I manage to cope."

The Queen’s cries grew louder. Jaime swallowed, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening. He had always thought her brave - Oft times, braver than him, but now, he understood — Her bravery had never been the absence of fear. It had been enduring it, despite the horror.

And he hated it. He hated that she had to endure this. He wanted to promise her that she will be safe in his arms, that he would protect her from any danger, that everything will be alright...

Not for the first time, he questioned everything - The Kingsguard. The vows. The honor he had been taught to uphold. What good was a sword if it could not protect the ones who needed it most?

As Y/N trembled beside him, Jaime made yet another oath, though this one was personal, made by his heart - No matter what, he would protect her - Even if it meant breaking all the other vows he had taken before.

The door was slammed open, and the King exited the chambers - He looked at Jaime and Y/N and let out a disgusting snarl. "Hands off the maidens, Lannister - You swore a vow to keep your cock dry like the deserts of Dorne." he pushed the lion away from the girl. "And you - Do you revere me so much that you tear up at the mere sight of my excellency? Ha!" he aggressively grabbed her jaw, squeezing it tightly, his long claw-like nails digging into her soft cheeks. "If you want something, get on your knees and worship my cock, just like your ancestors did before, you little Tyrell whore." he let out a gargled cackle, before pushing her to the ground and walking away. "Tag along, Lannister - You have to guard me as I take a piss."

Angered beyond belief, Jaime was forced to peer his eyes away from the tearful Y/N who picked herself off the ground and forced herself to get inside the Queen's chambers to tend to her. Reluctantly, he followed the mad king, listening to his awful insults of poor Y/N and the disgusting things he'd do to her;

This man wasn't meant to be King - This man wasn't even a man anymore. He was an outright monster, the nightmare that old nan told them when they were little children. Vile, uncouth, unworthy scum.

As the Lannister Knight was forced to hear the mad man's rant for longer that night, Y/N swiftly returned to her chambers, all alone, and hiding under her blankets, sobbing her woes into the pillow. She only remained in King's Landing out of love for Elia, not wanting her to remain all alone, especially after how she almost died giving birth to her second child, Aegon.

The moon hung high over King's Landing, casting silver slants of light through the thin curtains of Y/N’s chambers. A single candle burned on her bedside table, its flickering flame barely keeping the darkness at bay.

But the darkness wasn’t just in the room. It was in her mind. It was in her chest. It was the suffocating weight of fear pressing down on her ribs, curling around her throat like unseen fingers.

She wailed into the void, her body trembling, her breath ragged, her hands tearing away at her gorgeous hair...

A soft creak at the window stopped it all.

She barely registered it until a warm hand touched her shoulder out of nowhere, making her jump in her skin, almost shrieking her lungs out - Only to have a hand placed over her mouth, and a body over her;

"Sweet dove, it is me." a hushed voice whispered into her ear, soothing enough to calm her panic down.

"R-Ryn..." she stammered out, after the man in cause slowly took away his hand. "D-Don't do that again... I-I thought... I-... Y-You..."

Oberyn’s voice was softer than she had ever heard it. His usual teasing bravado was absent, replaced by something raw. Something real. Pure worry for her.

Y/N looked up at him, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the candlelight. Her breath a panting pace, her eyes puffy and pink, and face wet, hair disheveled; All whilst he looked as flawless as ever, those black eyes of his warm and darling, burning with the flame of the dimming candle light.

"What happened?" he asked, shifting his body so he would be kneeling on the bed before her.

The dam inside her broke, and her arms were thrown around the man, clinging onto him tightly, pulling him back on the bed so she could sob her life away into his bare chest.

"The King-" she gasped between sobs. "The things he does, Ryn—you don’t understand. Every night, I hear her scream. The Queen—" She choked on her words, shaking her head violently. "No one does anything. No one can do anything." she continued her broken string of words. "I tend to her every night when he claims her - And Every night, the wounds, the scars, the bruises... Worse and worse..." she mewled pitifully, breaking his heart. "And tonight... He... He even threatened me... Again... Spoken such disgusting words..."

Oberyn’s jaw tightened. She could see the anger in his eyes, simmering, barely restrained, like burning coal in the fire.

"Elia is safe with that silver haired cunt." he assured her, voice firm. "The Prince would never let any harm come to her. He can do at least that much, especially now, after she birthed him an heir." he grumbled with spite. "Almost at the cost of her life, that is."

"For now." Y/N whispered a truth that was better left unspoken, her voice barely audible. "But if anything happened to Rhaegar—"

She didn’t finish. They both knew what would happen. The Mad King was a monster, and no one was safe from his wrath.

Oberyn lifted a hand, brushing away her tears with a touch so gentle it nearly undid her. "You don’t belong here, sweet rose. This place is rotting. It’s poison." she nodded, her throat too tight to speak. "I’ll take you away from here." he vowed. "The next time I return to King’s Landing, I will bring you to Dorne. I swear it on my life." he vowed, holding her closer to his chest. "I shall do what that imbecile couldn't do and marry you; Keep you away from danger, safe and sound."

"Ryn..." she whimpered, her fingers gripping tightly onto him. "Can you stay here for the night? Please?" she nestled into him. "I am terrified of being alone."

"Of course, my sweetling."

Oberyn's promise to her was the only thing keeping her together in the days that followed... But those days weren't long, and then the rumors started. The whispers spread like wildfire. The gossip was heard far and wide, spread by the spiders's web.

Prince Oberyn Martell had been seen sneaking into Lady Y/N Tyrell’s chambers. Every night, the guards had seen a shadow slipping through the halls. The court loved gossip, and there was no story more tantalizing than a Dornish prince seducing a noble lady under the Mad King’s nose.

And the Mad King loved to punish.

Soon enough, before his very nose, before he even realised, the sky was burning red.

Outside the Red Keep, the city was aflame. The Lannister banners had come, the gates had been opened, and Tywin Lannister’s troops poured into King’s Landing like a tide of crimson and gold.

The King thought they were his salvation - His most trusted, most loyal servant had come to defeat the rebellion; He didn’t know they were his doom; And thus, the King had enough time to pass judgement on his favourite subject, the defying maiden that kept bewitching the Queen;

The only thing Y/N could do was pray for a quick death or a miracle - She knew there was carnage outside those walls; In the throne room there was only herself, the King, and her beloved White Knight, staring at them, stunned and mind-blocked.

Aerys’ fingers were bruising her wrists, his breath hot and vile against her cheek.

"You think you can defy me in my own castle?" he seethed, his grip tightening as he slammed her against the cold stone of his chamber wall. "You and your Dornish filth — Whoring under my roof—"

"I didn’t—" Y/N sobbed, struggling against him. "I swear, my King—please—" if Jaime thought Y/N was sleeping with another, would he still protect her? Would he still feel the same for her, as he did before? Did he believe the rumours?

The Mad man laughed. A sharp, deranged sound. "Please?" he mocked. "You beg me, yet you spread your legs for theviper? You deserve to burn just like the rest of them—" his fingers clawed at her skirts, and a scream built in her throat.

... Then she collapsed to the floor like a discarded doll, with blood spilling and spraying all over her; A blade slid through flesh, followed by the sound of a thud.

She gasped, stumbling back, crawling away from the blood pooling around the corpse of what was once King Aerys II.

Jaime stood before her, his pristine armor splattered with red, the white cloak of the Kingsguard stained and tainted. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, staring with horror at the blade, and seeing the reflection - His reflection - Bloody and afraid.

His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, gaze shifted away, and Y/N realized—

He wasn’t looking at the King. He was looking at her.

"Y/N." he whispered, voice breaking, before he immediately collapsed on the ground by her side, gathering her into his arms, shaking and sobbing as she was. "I’ve got you." he murmured, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. "You’re safe now. You’re safe." she clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his cloak, her body trembling violently. "It’s over. He cannot hurt you again. No one can." he promised, voice hoarse. "I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not ever again."

The King’s blood pooled around them, and Jaime held her as the world as they knew it burnt all around them.

When the doors were opened, Ned Stark was the first to see the horrific scene; Y/N was huddled away in a corned, Y/N had sat on the Iron Throne, his bloody blade over his knees, and looking into nothingness; What was he trying to prove? Kingslayer, that's what he was. A man with no honour, no shame, no morals.

Though Jaime was later pardoned for his sins, and retained his spot in the Kingsguard, to protect the next King - King Robert Baratheon, and his wife, Cersei Lannister - He found, much to his dismay, that Y/N wed Oberyn Martel and went to live with him in Dorne, never to return to King's Landing ever again.

He could not fault her - She held no happy memory of the capital, after all, and there was no joy that anyone here could bring her; He could not marry her, nor bring her comfort; She could have remained Cersei's lady in waiting, although, for how long, before she was forced to marry and fulfill her duty as a noble woman of her status.

Of course, the Queen was pissed - She demanded Y/N return to court - She wanted her friend back - That was the whole purpose of everything, to have Jaime and Y/N constantly by her side. But now, she lost her beautiful flower, what was she to do? There was only so much joy she could get out of sharing a bed with her brother - He still remained as foolish as always, caring only about swords and battles and all that nonsense. At least her and Y/N were bound by womanhood, by secrets, by so many traits they shared together.

Alas... That friendship was forever lost to time and destiny.

"A Wedding fit for a King, you said?" Lady Olenna Tyrell scoffed, looking away, though the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a proud smile. "I almost do not recognise you, my child."

"That little atrocity is as much of a King as I am." Y/N huffed at her mother, slumping down on her chair unceremoniously. "No less, he is Cersei's bastard, with all the cruelty, and even less of a common sense than her." Oberyn chuckled light-heartedly, slumping down on the chair next to her, immediately reaching for the wine goblet. "I have already killed one Mad King - What is another?"

"Hush now, child, you did no such thing - It was the Kingslayer's blade, not your hand, which pierced the Mad King's belly." her mother scolded her, before straightening up. "The Sun of Dorne must have burnt your head, for you speak nonsense."

"Dear Lady, mother by law, are you not so proud of your little flower?" he played with a lock of her hair. "Hearing the news of her sweet niece's marriage - Second marriage - She jumped on the horse and tried to come here all the way, just to see her to safety." he mused with a sly smile. "Used to be she was so shy and passive - Now she grows hot headed, thirsting for blood and the safety of her kin."

"Fools, both of you." Olenna spat, though her eyes sparkled with motherly love. "Better feel blessed for your luck, not your heart or brain, for otherwise you would have still been lovesick over that fool who lusts over his sister's golden cunt - And what then would you have done? Killed your husband's bastards and live to tell the tale?"

"Instead, I would render us both lucky for marrying a man who got four chains at the Citadel just because he was bored out of his mind - Or, rather - A viper more proficient in poisons than any Maester in the land." the Queen of Thorns was quite fascinated by the way her daughter was speaking to her.

"And what, may I ask, is the price, then? Surely, the Red Viper of Dorne would not offer his aid out of the goodness of his heart." her eyes turned stern, looking at the Dornish prince.

"Could you perhaps be suggesting me cold-hearted when faced with my sweetling's distress? How cruel must you think me be, my dear lady mother by law." he did not seem the least bit offended. "Of course, my wish to exert vengeance on the Lannisters only adds to the thrill of fulfilling my darling's every wishes."

"Men are such fools - Only ever seeking the taste of honey in between a woman's legs." she rolled her eyes.

"I will have you know, the honey is very sweet - And so is the taste of revenge." Oberyn licked his lips sultry. "So why is there I hear you complain, when our goals have mutual finality?"

"He even has the venomous tongue of a viper." the old lady huffed, before smiling at her daughter. "Much better choice, I assure you." she said, referring to Jaime Lannister.

The scent of roses lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp aroma of Dornish wine that Oberyn swirled lazily in his goblet as they contemplated murder. A deadly collection of possibilities, carefully curated for the demise of a boy king who had lived far too long and was threatening the blooming of a flower..

Olenna tapped a delicate finger against the table, her sharp eyes narrowing at the selection before her. "The Strangler is effective, of course." she mused. "It tightens the throat, turns the face a lovely shade of purple… Quite dramatic, but too quick. A shame, really. I’d rather see him linger and wither on the ground like a pig."

Oberyn smirked. "You sound almost Dornish, Lady Olenna. In Dorne, we prefer a death to be… An experience. Something one does not simply slip away from, but feels with every agonizing breath."

Y/N tilted her head, glancing at her husband with a knowing smile. "Something slow, then. Something fitting for a boy who enjoys tormenting others — Wouldn't it be poetic justice if he suffered in turn?"

"Ah, my love, you understand me so well." Oberyn murmured, shaking his arm a little, only to reveal a small vial in between his fingers, which he fingered and played with idly. The liquid inside moved thickly, a deep, oily, murky green. "Basilisk blood."

Olenna raised a silvered brow. "I have heard tales of it - I had perhaps thought it to be simply that - A tale."

"It is a rare poison indeed - Legendary, in fact." Oberyn explained, watching the liquid slosh against the glass. "Derived from the fangs of the great lizards of the Isle of Tears, just off the northwest coast of Sothoryos. A single drop burns through a man’s veins, leaving him writhing in agony. His blood turns black, his flesh festers, and he screams until his throat is too raw to make another sound." He grinned. "Is that dramatic enough?"

Olenna took a slow sip of wine, considering. "Dramatic, certainly. But we are not simply making a statement, Prince Oberyn. We need precision. A public spectacle is well and good, but we must be certain the boy dies before anyone can suspect our hand in it." she declared. "I will be damned before I am forced to find that girl another husband - After all, who else but you has such renowned illicit knowledge?"

Y/N traced a finger over her own goblet, looking at the red wine with a pondering look. "The Bloodwyrm's Lament." she said, impressing her mother. "It forces painful convulsions, as well as heavy bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose."

"Clever." Olenna admitted. "And equally ruthless." she continued. "Plenty of ideas, yet which to use?"

Oberyn chuckled, setting down the basilisk blood. "We are at an impasse, I see? Then, perhaps, a blend?" he offered. "These beauties together could make for a fine crystal. Place it in any food or drink, and it shall be no more."

Y/N and Olenna both turned their eyes to him.

"Bloodwyrm's Lament for the initial pain, Basilisk Blood for the agony… and The Strangler to make certain he does not survive the ordeal." Oberyn spread his hands as if laying out a feast. "His body will convulse, his face will turn purple, his insides will rot as he chokes, and he will die knowing it was no simple accident, but a punishment crafted just for him - And we are all happy."

Y/N smirked. "Swift, but meaningful. Sweet revenge." she glanced at Olenna. "Perfectly balanced."

The Queen of Thorns hummed in approval. "And how do you propose we deliver this delightful crystal?"

Y/N leaned back, tapping her nail against her goblet. "The wine will be too closely watched - Not to mention, Margaery would be sharing a goblet with him. The main courses will be tested for poison. But the wedding pie…" she smiled. "The doves will be the main spectacle, as will the newly weds. No one will notice if something is slipped into the king’s slice before it reaches him."

"And who, my dear, will have the honor of delivering the final touch?" Olenna asked, her voice laced with amusement.

The Tyrell woman spoke carefully. "Sansa Stark." surprising both her daughter and her husband.

Oberyn lifted a brow. "The poor girl?" he asked in surprise. "How could you have possibly managed to persuade her?"

"I never said she is a knowing accomplice." the woman waved her hand. "Girls love jewellery. Craft the poison crystal into a hairnet, and she won't suspect a thing." she continued on. "Besides - I doubt she would be opposed to marrying the grandson that you crippled, Viper. She must be in a great hurry to leave the lion's cage."

"You call me a dangerous and hot-headed man, yet every drop of your blood schemes." Oberyn grinned mirthfully. "You got that cunning tongue of yours from your mother, I see!" he looked with a twinkle of mischief at his wife.

Olenna took another sip of her wine, eyes gleaming with something murderous. "A dangerous man needs an intelligent wife to keep him in check."

"And a dangerous woman needs a husband who will let her be dangerous." Oberyn countered smoothly, lifting his goblet in a mock toast. "To a wedding, then."

And thus the deed was done; Olenna Tyrell went with her whole retinue in King's Landing to lure the little wolf pup closer to her side, with dreams of willow blossoms and marriage - And as a gift, a hairnet adorned with lovely crystals, so that she would shine with joy, knowing she was one step closer to escaping the lions, and one step closer to becoming a flower in the Highgarden.

Whilst Oberyn and Ellaria enjoyed the brothel, Y/N joined her family - Of course, Margaery was as lovely as ever, and her mother as ruthless as always. Sansa even joined them on occasion, indulging in her favourite lemon cakes.

Yet not all his pleasure and glee in the pleasure house, as the Rains of Castamere was sung by some poor Lannister bastard, who dared interrupt the Dornishman's good time; Before long, the whores had left, and the fool had a dagger shoved through his hand, binding him to the table - And the only thing saving him was not his companion, but the arrival of the Imp, who remained speechless as his intensity... And his pure hatred for the Lannisters.

Martell took the Imp aside for a little walk, just the two of them, for a conversation with little to hide - A conversation that would terrify the little golden lion. "What are you doing in King's Landing, my Prince?"

"I was invited to the Wedding." he smiled simply. "My wife's niece is the bride - I wouldn't be a good husband if I did not join the retinue, would I?"

"I thought we were speaking truth." Tyrion spoke solemnly.

"The last time I was in the capital was many, many years ago, for another Wedding - My sister, Elia, married Rhaegar Targaryen, the last Dragon. My sister loved him, bore his children in her womb; Took care of them, waddled them, fed them at her breast - Didn't even allow the wet nurse to touch them." he continued, fidgeting a little. "My sweet wife was there by her side day and night, helping her." his smile was wide, filled with resentment. "And beautiful, noble Rhaegar Targaryen left her for another woman." he went on. "That started a war - And the war ended right here, when your father's army took the city."

"I wasn't there." Tyrion looked down, feeling guilt, in spite of him having no part played in the massacre.

"They butchered her children. My nephew and niece, carved them up and wrapped them in Lannister cloaks. And my sister - You know what they did to her?" he picked the imp's chin, raising it up to look him in the eyes. "I am asking you a question."

"I have heard rumours." Tyrion gulped, his heart pounding hard against his chest.

Oberyn's laugh was mirthless. "Yes, so have I." he said. "The one I keep hearing is Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, raped Elia and split her in two with his greatsword." Tyrion tried one more time to say he wasn't there, he had nothing to do with it - It was in vain. "But if the Mountain killed my sister, it was by your father's orders." his voice dropped a little in a humourless tone. "Tell your father I'm here. Tell him the Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts." he let out a small huff. "Cheer up, little man - My wife would be thrilled to see how much you have grown since last she saw you -- Perhaps you should ask your dear brother and sister; They are sure to know what I am talking about."

Thus she returned to the brothel to retrieve his paramour and left to explore more of the city - Yet back to their room, there was no sight of Y/N; Surely, she must still be with her family, he thought - Or worse, she caught sight of that foolish Lion. What a pity, he thought to himself, however inevitable that conversation would be. Fifteen years or so passed since that day when Jaime Lannister drove his blade through King Aerys' body and rescued Y/N from being burnt alive - For that, Oberyn was thankful, yet for everything else, he was not.

"You're a Queen, not an ox." Olenna huffed, looking away from those ugly necklaces displayed nobly over the red velvet cushions, before she grasped one of them. "Your grandfather gifted me a necklace quite like this, at my one-and-fifty name day." she threw it off the balcony, grinning.

"My father never did have a good sense of fashion." Y/N giggled at her mother.

"My wedding is in a fortnight, grandmother, we cannot turn everything away." Margaery scolded her picky grandma, who simply smiled.

"Of course I can - And I will." she said sternly, before addressing the ladies in waiting. "My dears, go to the royal jewellers all over the capital - Tell them who you are, tell them who sent you - The one who brings me the best necklace will receive the second best." the girls grinned happily, before skipping away with excitement.

Y/N smiled sweetly, before receiving something from inside her sleeve. "Can I receive the best, if she likes this?" Margy gravitated to her aunty, her eyes wide and sparkling beautifully.

"It is gorgeous!" Margaery smiled brightly.

Y/N placed the necklace over the girl's cleavage. "And it also suits you - Do you agree, mother?"

"Takes a flower to know a flower." Olenna laughed, sitting back on her chair. "Yes, that's the one, I agree. Enjoy your gift, Y/N."

"I suppose I do not have to rely on Joffrey to place a string of dead sparrow heads around my neck." the young girl joked, making both her auntie and grandma scold her for speaking reckless.

Out of nowhere, a very tall and strong woman appeared, speaking very politely and diplomatic, introducing herself as Brienne of Tarth - She used to be Renly Baratheon's protector, that much Y/N heard from Loras, though she did not know that she beat Loras in jousting - That was a woman! Y/N giggled to herself, thinking about a young Brienne beating Jaime up. That would have been cute to see.

Margy delicately took her auntie's hand to follow her into the gardens, to hear what the blonde lady has to say about the night of Renly's assassination; The shadow of Stannis Baratheon killed him, she said - And though it sounded beyond fantastic, Oberyn told Y/N about the stories of the water witches Princess Nymeria brought to Dorne, and she knew of the blood mages of old Valyria - There was nothing to say such forbidden magic couldn't persist to these days.

"Auntie - Lady Brienne here bravely sought Ser Jaime Lannister to safety, after his imprisonment by the Starks." so that was why Margaery wanted her along. "Perhaps you might with to speak." she smiled sweetly, before returning to her grandmother.

"Is that so?" Y/N asked with a passive smile. "Hard to believe the proud lion would be needing aid. What happened?"

"My Lady, I..." Brienne looked down for a second, gathering her words. "Ser Jaime saved me when we were captured - He lied to preserve my maidenhead, though I could not save him from the cruel fate of having his hand chopped off." Y/N's eyes widened with shock, her hands flying to her mouth in disbelief. "Afterward, the lord of the castle we were brought to allowed Ser Jaime safe passage to King's Landing, but threw me in a bear pit with only a wooden sword and a dress. He jumped in the pit and fought the bear, yelling at the people to kill the bear, while he helped me get out of the pit." she placed her hand over her heart. "In spite of his reputation as a Kingslayer, his actions are honorable and righteous as that of a true knight."

"Thank you for saving him, Lady Brienne. For that, you have my eternal gratitude and thanks." spectacularly, Y/N embraced the tall lady, who was frozen in shock. "I do not want to imagine him dying." she said. "Though I cannot believe his heart has healed - May you take me to him?"

Brienne looked down at the smaller lady - She wondered what kind of delicate connection the two of them had - Still, she could not refuse her. "Of course, my lady. Right away."

Jaime sat in the dim candlelight of his chambers, his body draped lazily over a cushioned chair, though there was no comfort in his posture. His golden hair was unkempt, his features sharper, wearier, even after bathing thoroughly a few times since he's arrived. He idly flexed the fingers of his remaining hand, but it was the stump at his side that truly defined him now - The empty spot where once was his sword-hand.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed a shadow passing the threshold, along with the soft squeak of the door. He lifted his head, expecting another visitor to come gawk at him. Instead, he saw the sweetest dream he's ever had, right before his very eyes - The one woman he never thought he would see again in this life.

"Y/N." he breathed, almost disbelieving. Was he dead, and dreaming? Was he in a reverie? He did not take Milk of the poppy, nor was he drunk... So why...? How was it possible?

She stepped closer, the warm glow of the candles illuminating her features. She was older now, more refined, yet still radiant in a way that made his chest ache. The woman that was so close to being his wife; The woman to whom he turned his back.

"Jaime." she whispered back, and in that moment, they were children again, playing in the gardens of Casterly Rock, before the world had turned cruel.

For a long moment, neither spoke. He drank in the sight of her, the softness of her gaze, the gentle concern that had never faded. She was the same as ages ago.

"I heard what happened to you." Y/N finally said, stepping closer. "Brienne told me everything."

Jaime chuckled, low and bitter. "I imagine she made me sound more noble than I deserve." he gestured at his missing hand. "I am not the gallant and righteous knight that you used to know, you see." he huffed. "Do you pity me?"

"No." she said firmly, stepping closer to him, close enough that he could see the way her lips trembled, the way her hands fidgeted as if she wished to reach out but did not want to overstep. "I only regret that I wasn’t there to save you."

"What could you have done?" Jaime asked, voice hoarse. "You weren't saving me from Father's scoldings; Those men were savages, traitors." he looked down at the ground. "If you were there... I would not have been able to save you."

"I could have at least held your other hand." she murmured.

Jaime inhaled sharply, looking away. She had always been like this — So effortlessly kind, so willing to love... And he… had been too blind to cherish it when he had the chance. There she was, standing ing in front of him, as bright and beautiful as the Maiden, and as loving and warm as the Mother... The one to whom he was truly bound by soul...

Yet there he was, bound and broken, shackled by the mistake he did ages ago, when he chose blood ties over his ration and heart. He allowed himself to be manipulated by dreams of honey and gold, when the true reverie was right under his eyes.

A fool, he has been... But now, returned to his home... He has seen what Cersei truly was; Bedding other men, snarking him, snubbing him, blaming him for not having escaped soon enough... Guilting him for leaving her alone, as if he was faring any better; As if he wanted to be taken prisoner by the Stark boy.

As if unworthy, Jaime raised his gaze, his sad eyes looking the lady up and down; She was wearing rich Dornish silks of the highest quality, and was adorned with jewels of which even he has not seen before. It did not take an intellectual to know the truth; She was happy. "Dorne treats you well, I see?" he asked after a moment, forcing himself to ask the question that had burned in him since the moment he saw her again. He couldn't speak his name - He wouldn't - But she knew regardless.

Y/N smiled, the kind of smile that did not need words to affirm its truth. "Yes. He treats me very well."

Jaime swallowed thickly. He had always known he was too selfish to truly wish her happiness without him, but looking at her now, seeing the peace in her eyes, the way her body held no tension, no uncertainty — He knew Oberyn had given her something he never could. The last time he remembers seeing her was that day, when the Mad king wanted to burn her alive - The fear in her eyes was no more, nor the tears wetting her beautiful face. The reign of terror was over.

"Then I am glad." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N reached out then, the hesitation gone, and took his remaining hand in hers. "But you, Jaime? How are you?" she asked. "You have been through so many hardships - Yet finally you have prevailed and returned home." a question so simple, yet it unraveled him.

"I don’t know..." he admitted tragically.

She squeezed his hand gently. "You are still you, Jaime. Even without a sword in your hand, you are still a knight. You are still worthy of being called one."

He laughed, hollow and broken. "Do you really believe that?"

"I have always believed in you." she said softly. "Even when you did not believe in yourself." she smiled up at him. "Even when you were Ser Jaime the Cat Knight."

"That cat must still be laughing at us." Jaime shut his eyes, breathing through the ache in his chest. He wanted to turn back time, to make different choices, to never let go of her hand. But time had marched forward, and now she belonged to another, and he — He belonged to no one.

"If I could do it all again..." he murmured. "I wouldn’t hesitate."

"You forget yourself, Jaime. You did not hesitate." Y/N smiled, sad and knowing. "You did not hesitate to choose Cersei over me." the man gulped with guilt - Of course she knew, there was no need for words or explanations. Y/N knew the two of them better than they knew themselves.

"Since when...?" he found himself asking in such a meek and mousy voice.

"Since your Lady Mother moved your bedchambers across mine own." the lady let out a sardonic chuckle. "The two of you have never been known for your subtlety, mind you. People just chose to turn a blind eye to your... Misbehaviour. Deeming it a twin thing. But I knew better." she said, her voice throwing daggers at the man's heart. "I have known since then that you were a lost cause for me, and that you would fall prey to your sister's lies."

"Why did you not warn me?" he found himself asking, bewildered, yet not surprised.

"Would you have believed me, over your own sister?" Jaime nodded to himself - She was right, and he replied with a negative answer. "Thought so."

A silence stretched between them, filled with everything they had left unsaid. "There is no point for regrets anymore. We cannot go back, Jaime. We can only go forward."

Finally, Jaime spoke, his voice as fragile as the moment between them. "You are right." as always.

"Jaime - What ever happened to our bunnies?" Y/N asked, all of a sudden. "I never did get to ask you, did I?"

"No... I guess you didn't." Jaime said with a sad smile. "Cersei got angry the day she heard she won't be marrying Rhaegar Targaryen, and she hugged the rabbit so hard she killed it." of course she would do that. "She got even angrier, and she went to Tyrion, killed the rabbit in front of him, then forced the cooks to make it into a meal and feed it to him." Y/N covered her mouth in shock. "As for ours... I knew Cersei would end up hurting them... So I went into the forest one night and let them go. I do not know if they got attacked by predators, or survived... But at least they survived her." what a very sad fate for them.

"Well... Can't say I am surprised." Y/N sighed pitifully. "Sorry that I asked. I soured the mood." she said, fixing her hair. "On another note - Tell me... Is there anything that you learnt from this... Journey of yours?" Y/N asked, letting go of his hand and stepping away. "Anyone that... Taught you something meaningful?" she continued.

"What are you talking about?" the man asked with confusion.

"What do you see when you look at Brienne?" his eyes narrowed, along with his furrowed brows - He could not make the meaning of the question. "Do you know what I see in Brienne?"

"What does Brienne have to do with anything?" The lion was evidently confused.

"Everything." came the solemn answer.

"What are you talking about?"

"Does she not remind you of yourself?" Y/N ask, receiving silence.

"I am not that ugly." Y/N shot him a warning look, making him apologise. "Apart from being tall, strong and blond, I can't really see what similarities we share. Do enlighten me, O, wise one."

"Snark me like that again, and I am leaving." he remained silent. "Although your sarcasm proves me that you do, in fact, admire Brienne for what she is - And for what you were incapable of doing." she let out a dry laugh. "She did what you could not - She kept her righteous heart and kindness. You became blinded by renown and power." she spoke bitterly. "Do you even remember why you killed the Mad King? Do you remember why you so readily accepted that God-awful nickname of yours?"

"Well, if I remember correctly, he was ripping away at that pretty dress of yours, and wanted to fuck you in front of me before he would burn you alive with wildfire. Am I misremembering something?" snarky as always, and with all the bitterness. "I did not even get a thank you, if I remember well enough."

"Forgive me for crying so much that I forgot to voice my gratitude." Y/N rolled her eyes. "I was trying to remind you that you used to be selfless. You used to be the man who wanted to protect the weak; Who wanted to be the champion of justice and all those who could not protect themselves. Like Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy."

"Yes, well - Arthur Dayne is dead, Barristan Selmy was dismissed from his post, and I am a cripple. Between the three of us, I wonder what legacy will we bear." Y/N groaned in annoyance.

"Legacy? What are you, your father? Since when did you care about legacy? Since when did you discard everything that you ever stood for? You used to have honour, justice, righteousness." Y/N shook her head. "Do you think I fell for you because you had pretty gold hair, and gorgeous green eyes, and had a rich family?" she went on. "I fell in love with you because you were hard-working and diligent, because you always wanted to do what's right, and wanted to protect those who could not protect themselves." she let out a ragged breath, her voice breaking a little. "What happened to my sweet Jaime?"

"He died, along with the Mad King." when he got the nickname of Kingslayer, and had his reputation tarnished.

"No." Y/N said sternly, surprising him. "My Jaime died when he fell prey to his sister's manipulating lies, and forgot how to think for himself. The Jaime in front of me is nothing more than Cersei's puppet that she liked to sleep with - But no more. You're not as dashing as you used to be, without one hand and the long hair." with his answer being a contemplative silence, Y/N stepped towards the door to leave.

"Y/N." he called out. "Can you promise me something?" she hummed in agreement. "No matter which way life takes us, what roads the two of us take - No matter what - Please... Y/N... Promise me you will seek your happiness above all else."

Y/N stood there in the door, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. She had to return to Oberyn and Ellaria as fast as humanly possible - Being in the same room as Jaime brought her nothing but misery... A bittersweet misery which she could not escape.

"I promise." she mumbled under her breath, before escaping back to her chambers, into a land of love and warmth where problems existed no more.

A fortnight passed, and the wedding ceremonies were in bloom; Everyone was having fun - Except, of course, the Mad boy who thought himself a King. Y/N was content staying with her husband and his paramour, feasting at a table, somewhere away from the main events - Yet even still, as she kept squeezing Ryn's hand, she saw her mother caressing Sansa's sweet face, fixing the hairnet and stealing the mischievous crystal.

But the King grew bored, and he invited a most vulgar dwarf show, depicting his enemies fighting each other... With awful words and an even more dishonorable showcase of humiliation, which left everyone watching uncomfortable... Except for the Queen Regent, of course. Poor Sansa was fighting between being numb, and bursting into tears; First she watched her father beheaded, she was abused by her supposed betrothed, and then her brother and mother, at a wedding no less...

And to make matters worse, the first time Y/N saw Tyrion, after so long, was him being metaphorically pissed on by his own brat of a nephew - Though Y/N was almost sure Joffrey wouldn't have shied away from actually pissing on his uncle if it weren't for Tywin.

Y/N squeezed Oberyn's and Ellaria's hands tightly, watching with hawk eyes as Joffrey handed Margaery his goblet - And when she placed it on the table, she added the crystal Lady Olenna handed to her prior, when fixing her dress.

The dove cake was cut, Margaery fed him a bite or two, and then the King forced his uncle to fetch him the goblet again; One big gulp, and another, and another - Until he started choking and raking his nails at his own throat until there was skin and flesh no more; Vomit was spewing from his mouth, his eyes were red, and blood was spilling from his nose and ears; His body was trembling and spazzing involuntarily, and his shrieks were sweet lullabies to all those he had wronged.

One scheme, three people, and an unfortunate innocent to be the scapegoat. Y/N had not wished Tyrion to be blamed for this ploy, they had not anticipated Cersei's and Joffrey's sheer cruelty - Alas, the poor imp was imprisoned and trialed for his crimes.

At least Margaery was safe, and with that Oberyn also was asked to join the Small Council by none other than the Lannister Lord himself - In the brothel, no less. What a very amusing turn of events.

Tyrion was imprisoned, yet his brother did not hesitate to go talk to him; He was innocent, he knew, and yet... What could Jaime do to save him? Nothing, he realised - Alas. One thing he could, however, was to save his squire, Podrik, by sending him along with Brienne... Brienne...

Y/N had been right. Brienne was just like him, in the past, and now, with Oathkeeper in her hands, she could do what he never could - Keep her oaths, protect those in need.

Bring Sansa Stark home.

In that tainted and rotten heart of his, there was still a spark of light, and even though Catelyn Stark was dead, he had sworn to her to bring her daughter back into her arms. Jaime Lannister might be incapable of such a feat - Yet Brienne of Tarth could do anything she ever dreamt of, and more.

In the gardens, Oberyn and Y/N were writing poems for his daughters back in Sunspear - And the lioness appeared to disturb their peace. Oh, for Y/N to meet Cersei like this, after so many long years, it was unpleasant. To go from 'Cersei' to 'Your Grace' with a bow - She was sure she enjoyed it very much. Or ordering them for a walk, without the capacity to refuse.

"I did not take you for a poet." Cersei started the conversation, stealing one glance at the way Y/N and Oberyn were holding hands, and her jaw clenched in anger.

"Not a very good one, I am afraid. Y/N here has the romantic heart for it." he kissed her hand sweetly.

"I did not think you would be sharing paramours." the lioness japed.

"It is for one of my daughters." he replied.

"You have several, don't you?" Cersei pointed out.

"Eight." Ryn stated proudly.

"Eight?!" Cersei looked at him. "Eight daughters?" she repeated. "Would any of them call me 'auntie'?" she looked at Y/N, who seemed uncomfortable by the question, and avoided her gaze. "Or, perhaps a son?"

"We might not have children together by blood, Y/N loves my children as though they were her own." the Dornishman spoke up immediately.

"Pity. I suppose the prophecy came true for some." Y/N couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh.

"It did not miss you either, I am afraid." the flower smirked antagonistic at the Queen regent. "Though I believe you are less happy with the outcome, all things considered."

Cersei glared at the girl - Dorne ruined her - She used to be so mellow and sweet; Now she dares speak back to her. Blasphemy. "What is she like? Your daughter, I mean."

"She is my fifth daughter - And the most stubborn. I named her Elia, after my sister." he began.

"Beautiful name." a lie. Cersei hated Elia Martell more than any woman alive. She stole Y/N from her. She stole Rhaegar from her. She stole every thing, including her happiness.

"Yes, it is - Though I am saddened every time I speak it - And then, I grow angry." Cersei remained unmoved.

"Perhaps that is why she is difficult. Gods love their jokes, don't they?" jokes? Oberyn asked. "You are a Prince of Dorne, a legendary fighter, a brilliant, feared man throughout Westeros - Yet you could not save your sister." she said. "I am a Lannister, Queen for 19 years, daughter of the most powerful man in the kingdom, and yet I could not save my son." she went on. "And you... You belong to the second most powerful House, on which we now depend dearly; You had my father's admiration and my brother to wed, you befriended the Crown Princess and ended up happily marrying her sister..." she smiled bitterly. "But no matter how hard you tried, you could not hold onto anything that you held dear and it all slipped through your fingers."

"Might be so, but I live a happy and worryless life now. I would say it all worked for the best for me." Y/N shrugged lightly.

"Tell me, sister - What is the use of power, if you cannot protect those you love?" Cersei asked.

"You can avenge them." Cersei agreed.

"Do you really believe Tyrion killed your son?" Y/N found herself asking.

"I know he did." Cersei spoke with certainty - It took everything from Y/N not to sigh.

"He will have a trial, and we will find out the truth." Oberyn spoke simply.

"We will have a trial, yes..." Cersei then trailed on, tearfully speaking of how much she missed her daughter - Not that Y/N would understand, of course, she said. Still, they promised to deliver her the name's day gift and remind Myrcella of her mother's affections. Myrcella was happy.

Oberyn was now part of the Small Council, and heard plenty about the Targaryen girl in Mereen, winning and conquering far and wide; It gave the Viper quite the funny idea - Get the Targaryens back on the throne, to get rid of the Lannisters. Funny thought indeed. Rhaegar Targaryen abandoned his sister - Tywin Lannister killed his sister and his niece and nephew. Lesser of two evil? Who knows. In spite of this, Dorne still loathed the Dragons.

The trial was every bit as Y/N expected - Unfair, just like the whole country. She never expected Tywin to hate his own son so much that he would have him killed - Was it because he was a disgrace? An imp? Or because birthing him, his beloved Joanna died?

So many people testified against Tyrion, making his sound like such a horrifying monster... And yet Y/N saw the same squalling baby in the crib... The baby that Cersei was torturing in front of her and Oberyn.

And Jaime wasn't doing anything to save his little brother - Except, he went to beg his father for mercy, at the cost of his White Cloak; He promised he will accept the seat at the Rock, and find a suitable wife to marry and make heirs together -- Only if Tyrion lives.

The thought of marrying a woman that wasn't Y/N hurt his heart dearly - But... He knew Y/N would want Tyrion alive... And he would have been, were it not for the whore who betrayed him, who lied about him so ruthlessly... Who broke his heart, the same way he loved Tysha... And because of their father, his heart broke forever.

"Father... I wish to confess..." Tyrion sneered between his teeth, before turning to all the people watching the trial. "I saved you. I saved this city and all of your worthless lives. I should have let Stannis kill you all." the words of a very hurt man.

"Tyrion - Do you wish to confess?"

"Yes, father. I am guilty." he spoke with snark and defiance. "Guilty - Is that what you want to hear?"

"You admit you poisoned the King?" Tywin spoke, perched up on the Iron Throne.

"No. Of that, I am innocent. Tyrion said. "I am guilty of a far more montrous crime." he hissed. "I am guilty of being a dwarf."

"You are not on trial for being a dwarf." Tywin spoke, but he was easily cut off.

"Oh, but yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life!" he exclaimed pitifully.

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?" Y/N shed a tear, seeing the little Lannister being so hated. He didn't deserve all this madness.

"Nothing but this - I did not do it. I did NOT kill Joffrey, but I WISH that I had." merciless trial. "Watching your vicious bastard die gave me more relief than a THOUSAND lying whores!" Y/N had her hand over her heart, and searched for the crowd - Her eyes met with Jaime, and in that instant, they both knew - The little Lannister was doomed to death since the day he was born. "I wish I was the monster you think I am! I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you! I would GLADLY give my life to watch you all swallow it." he turned to his father. "I would NOT give my life for Joffrey's murder; And I know I'll never get my justice here - That's why I'll let the Gods decide my fate."

I DEMAND A TRIAL BY COMBAT.

Y/N fell into her seat, whilst Oberyn straightened up; Jaime gulped with fear, whilst Cersei gritted her teeth in anger, and Tywin clenched his fists.

The youngest Lannister was brought back to his cell, and his brother followed with one last sibling chat. The only friend he's ever had... The strongest knight in the Kingdom, yet he couldn't even fight for his brother's honour... Couldn't even defeat a stable boy, without his precious right hand.

Bronn, his sellsword, the man who fought for him once, also did not accept to fight for him - After all, who in their right mind would fight the Mountain, of all people - And Tyrion could not blame him for that.

He was all alone.

Except...

Much to his surprise, two people entered his dimly lit jail - The man he knew as Oberyn Martell, and his wife, Y/N Tyrell, of whom he knew little, except for what he heart from his brother and sister. Even now, she was as gorgeous as a flower - Or so Jaime used to describe her.

"I thought you'd be back at the brothel by this hour." Tyrion spoke softly.

"I did spend all yesterday with a stunning blonde." Oberyn said, placing his torch on the wall. Tyrion watched as he gallantly took a chair and placed his coat on it, so his wife would not dirty her dress sitting down. "Cersei approached me - We talked a lot about her daughter, how worried your sister is about her. She was trying very hard to hide she was trying to sway me away from you - I think she may have even believed it herself."

"But, well - Cersei has never been that good of a liar. Most people aren't Jaime, you see. I think you, of all people, would know that much." Y/N smiled enigmatically.

"It is very rare to meet a Lannister who shares MY enthusiasm for dead Lannisters." Oberyn exclaimed with mock joy. "She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you. It looks as though I have taken care of that myself." he sighed. "The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck. She's wanted it for a long time."

"Yes, I know." Tyrion was confused. "We met, you and I. Many years ago."

"I think I would have remembered that." Tyrion looked suspicious.

"I don't believe you would, little one. You had only just been born." Y/N smiled sweetly. "You do not remember even me, who took care of you until the moment I left for King's Landing." he was even more confused.

"My mother, the Princess of Dorne, took me and my sister Elia on a visit to Casterly Rock - You see, our mothers were good friends, and talks of marriage were in place. Me, to marry Cersei, they said. Of course, your father would hear none of it - Thank goodness for his arrogant pride." Oberyn let out a dry chuckle. "I did not like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather or your accent - Nothing. But the biggest disappointment - You."

"You and my family might have more in common than you think." Tyrion hissed pitifully.

"That is not true." Y/N said. "Everyone, everywhere, talked only about the little Lannister monster - A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye, the privates of both a girl and a boy."

"That would have made things so much easier." Tyrion sighed.

"When I met your sister, she promised to look us - Dragged Elia and I all the way to your nursery and she unveiled the monster." Ryn recalled dramatically. "Yes, your head was a bit large, your arms and legs a little small; But no claw, no red eyes, no tail between the legs - Just a tiny pink cock." he said. "We couldn't hide our disappointment. That's not a monster, I told Cersei. It's just a babe, Elia told her." he went on. "And she said - He killed my mother. And she pinched your little cock so hard I thought she might pull it off. Until Y/N and your brother tried to stop her." he continued the story. "It does not matter, she said. Everyone says he will die soon; I hope they are right. He should have died long ago."

"Well." Tyrion bit back a sniffle. "Sooner or later, Cersei will get what she wanted. She always gets what she wants."

"Does she?" Y/N chuckled. "She wanted to marry Rhaegar Targaryen. She wanted to marry the man she fell in love with, and have children with him. That woman only ever loved one man, and that is Rhaegar, not Jaime. All the love she bears is for herself." she said, tilting her head.

"Tell me, little man, what ever happened to that fluffy little thing nestled to you in the crib?" Tyrion frowned a little. "This beautiful lady here, before you were born, found a bunch of rabbits. One for each, and one for you - Or so she says. I always did wonder what happened to those rabbits."

"Stew." Tyrion shrugged. "Jaime used to play with me, with the rabbits. Once he left for training, the nursemaid had to take care of all four of them. It was only me, and four rabbits. Cersei was in King's Landing too... And Y/N, I do not remember you. Forgive me." he said. "I know... Cersei's rabbit died first. Some disease, the Maester said... And then she killed the rabbit and made the cooks make it into a stew, to feed me. I remember she specifically said it was my fault the rabbit died - Just like how I killed our mother." he sighed, looking down. "Jaime said his and Y/N's ran away into the garden, to live happily ever after among the flowers... My guess is, they also became porridge. Who knows."

"Cersei has always been vengeful." Y/N nodded her head. "Truth is, since the day Oberyn and Elia came into the Rock, she has hated them like nothing else." she smiled bitterly. "All because I was getting along with them so well." she said. "Dornish whore, she called Elia. O, how I wanted to wring her neck as she stood. Cersei wishes she was even a fraction and kind and gentle as Elia was."

"You see, little man - Cersei may get what she wants - But what about what I want?" Oberyn spoke, looking at the prisoner. "I married Y/N so I can save her from the Lannisters. To keep her safe from this, when your own brother abandoned her." he leaned forwards. "But there is still one thing that I demand. Justice for my sister and her children."

"If you want justice you've come to the wrong place." Tyrion laughed mirthlessly.

"You are wrong, Tyrion. The Mountain killed Elia Martell and her children, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon - At your father's orders. We want revenge for all the evil that has been done." Y/N said with power in her voice. "Elia was not my sister by blood, but I loved her like mine own. I took care of her each day, in this god-forsaken citadel of death - Only for her to be slaughtered by a monster who calls himself a knight. I will not have that be the last memory of her."

"I want bring those who have wronged me to justice - And all those who have wronged me are right here." Tyrion looked at him with awe and wonder. "I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane who killed my sister's children, and then raped her with their blood still on his hands, before killing her too." Tyrion shed a tear when hearing him speak. "I will be your champion." his saviour.

"Do not worry, little cub. Oberyn is the Red Viper of Dorne. Not even the Mountain can stand in his way." Y/N smiled, bending to ruffle the messy and dirty golden hair on Tyrion's head, before holding Oberyn's hand to leave to their chamber.

"You tell him that, yet you worry more than anyone I have ever known in my entire life." Ryn chuckled carefree.

"Of course I worry - That man is a monster, that a human." Y/N grumbled, squeezing his hand lovingly. "And I did tell you that blasted prophecy." she looked down, biting her lip. "Do not allow it to happen. I do not wish to be a widow. I do not wish to part from you."

"Why? The prophecy said you will marry Jaime Lannister after me. Is that so bad a fate?" he japed lightly, getting slapped on the arm by his wife. Her reaction earned a heartfelt laugh, and a sweet kiss. "Worry not, my sweetling; We both know not even that monster can kill me."

"Unless you let it get to your head."

Ellaria and Y/N both were kissing and embracing their beloved Oberyn, encouraging him for his fight, whilst reminding him to be careful, to not get arrogant and all that. With such little armor, he had to be lithe.

"Don't leave me alone in this world." the ladies both said.

"Never." he replied, before going to show off with his spear.

Alas, those were the confident words of a dead man who got his revenge after his death; The poison of his lance offered the Mountain a most torturous death... Yet nothing could save Oberyn from having his head smashed in, as the monster pushed his thumbs through his eyes.

Poor Ellaria was shrieked her lungs out in horror - Y/N, however, collapsed to the ground. The prophecy had turned true, and with that, so did her sweet dream of summer.

Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne, was dead.

When Y/N was brought to her room, or how did she get there, she did not know; All she knew was that the first thing she woke up to were the green eyes of Jaime Lannister, looking down at her with worry. No one else was there - No doubt, celebrating Oberyn's death, along with Tyrion's death sentence.

"... Why are you here?" Y/N whispered, her voice saddened, and growing sadder. "Shouldn't you be trying to help your brother escape the city?"

"Already done that." he assured. "Varys will get him out of King's Landing." he said, his hand placed gently over her cheek. "Enough about that - You just lost your husband tragically. My brother's well being is the last thing on your mind."

"Do you think they will allow me to go back to Highgarden?" Y/N asked powerlessly. "I'm sure they will. But a widow, at my age? How pitiful. It was not even a war that took him. What a shame indeed."

"I... I am sure that, should you want to return home, they will welcome you with open arms." Jaime reassured her.

"Is Cersei still alive?" the question confused the man.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Did she never tell you about our little secret escapade?" Y/N giggled sadly. "Our meeting with Maggy the Frog, and the prophecy she gave us?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." he admitted, furrowing his brothers.

"During the time of Prince Viserys' birth celebration tourney, Cersei took me to the witch's tent. She answered us three questions, you see." she smiled, looking away. "Cersei's was that she would marry a King, not a Prince. That she would have three children, shrouded in gold, while the King will have sixteen." Jaime looked at her with shock - They were so young back then - How could the witch know all that? How could she predict so well? "She will become Queen, until another, more beautiful, will take her place. She will outlive her children, and then, the valonqar will strangle her to death - Or something like that." she chuckled softly. "Younger brother, it means."

"You think Tyrion would kill her?" the girl shrugged. "No, he's gone. It's okay."

"Is it?" she snorted, getting in a sitting position.

"What was yours?" he asked, surprising her with his curiosity. "What was your prophecy?"

"Hmm... How did it go now? Something like... I will marry two men - A red viper (clearly, Oberyn was that), and a golden lion, valiant and proud." she let out a sardonic chuckle. "I won't have any children because I am barren, thank the Gods for that." she went on. "And, the one I hated the most - The viper shall topple over the mountain, yet perish beneath its weight. You, who shall free the lion of its shackles, shall lead the pride."

Jaime remained silent - The thought of marrying Y/N was sweet and tempting... But surely, not at the detriment of the man she loved so much. "Y/N." he licked his lips, trying to form his words. "I know... I have wronged you. More times than I can dare count. And... I know you loved Oberyn with all your heart." he continued, awkwardly and unsure. "However... If you ever feel lonely, and you wish for a place to enjoy your days... Perhaps not as festive and easy-going as Dorne, but with all the luxury... I..." he looked down for a few seconds, before looking back at her. "I will resign from the Kingsguard on the spot and join you at Casterly Rock. No father, no Cersei, no Crown. Nothing. I won't go to war, I won't leave your side, I won't do anything stupid or reckless anymore - Not that I can at this point, anyway."

"And when the Targaryen girl comes to steal the crown from Cersei's head - What then? Will you go to save her, and leave me behind again? Will you start a war against the dragons?" but her answer was a tight hug.

"I will bow my head and bend the knee to the girl. I am tired of war. I am tired of being involved in the unjustly matters of the Crown, of my own family. I want no more part in any of it." Y/N's hand reached to caress the man's rough and scarred face.

"Can you, truly?" he nodded. "You will not desert me again?" he shook his head. "And you will love me more than you ever loved Cersei?"

"I have always love you more than I loved Cersei." Jaime admitted sincerely. "I just got caught in her lies... And in her bed. Everything she said... All her lies... I was too stupid, and I believed all of them." he muttered, kissing her forehead sweetly. "But no more of that. I cannot even stand the look of her - Not after what she did to Tyrion."

"... Alright, Jaime." she muttered, easing into his embrace. "But we are leaving the city tonight, without question."

"Anything for you, my Rose."

As promised, Jaime went to his father's tower and left the white cloak there, telling him he will become heir, and marry Y/N Tyrell; Let him believe in legacies all he wants - He is done living another man's dream - From now, he lives his own reverie.

With Tommen becoming King, and Margaery Queen, the Faith rose up, and the High Septon took over; They imprisoned Margy and Cersei - But the little rose was smart, of course, she was a Tyrell taught by the Queen of Thorns herself; Cersei, however, had the pride of a lioness, but not the smarts of it; With Tywin long dead, she was all alone in King's Landing and with no allies, save for an exiled maester, who was only able to deliver a letter to Casterly Rock - To Jaime, to come save her.

"Come at once.” she had written, in the letter he had Y/N burn in their shared chamber. “Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.” Her need was real enough, Jaime did not doubt. As for the rest … She’d been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all he knew … Even if he had gone back, he could not hope to save her. She was guilty of every treason laid against her, and he was short a sword hand, a loving heart, and good reason.

He had sworn a vow to protect his wife, and he was not going to break that one, even if the Gods will it - Especially not for his sister. He was done playing the hero - He was fine being Jaime the Cat Knight, or Jaime the Tumbler, or Jaime the Whatever-Nickname-Y/N-Came-Up-With for him; And even better, she kept her promise of coming up with a song for his greatness as the best cat-chaser to ever exist.

With no allies and no one to turn to, Cersei faced the walk of shame, but with that came revenge, in the form of wildfire, and the destruction of the Sept of Baelor, along with the young Queen and her brother, Loras Tyrell, and their father, Mace.

The news of her family dying at the hands of Cersei only fueled Y/N's need for revenge - And in turn, Highgarden rose against the Crown, and was ready to pledge their allegiance to the Dragon Queen - And so did Casterly Rock. The Queen may have her Crown, but will not have the coin, army nor support of her family.

And thus, the Dragon Queen moved to reclaim her Crown, starting a war; King’s Landing burned in the distance, a city of ashes and ghosts. The Red Keep loomed above, its once majestic silhouette tainted by the destruction Cersei had wrought. The Queen of Ashes, ruling over nothing but ruin. That is what she will always be known as.

Jaime and Y/N moved swiftly like shadows through the corridors, silent, unseen. The castle was quieter than it had ever been. The scent of fire still lingered in the air, mixed with the distant cries of the people who had lost their families..

At last, they reached Cersei’s chambers. Jaime placed a hand on the door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Y/N watched him, waiting. There was no doubt in her heart — He had already made his choice. She squeezed his arm, giving him all the courage she had.

He pushed the door open.

Cersei sat by the balcony, watching the war beneath her, with a goblet of wine in her hand, her golden hair, short and disheveled, her face pale and angered. The moment she saw them, her lips curled into something between relief and desperation. It was fake, as it has always been.

"Jaime! Y/N" she exhaled, standing quickly. "You came for me. I knew you would!" she let out a chuckle of relief. "I began to fear my letter never reached you!"

Jaime said nothing. His green eyes were unreadable, locked onto hers with an intensity that made her falter. "I threw it in the fire."

Y/N stepped forward, her own gaze burning on Cersei. "No one is coming to save you, Cersei. Not after everything you've done to us."

Cersei scoffed, though there was a tremor in her voice. "Of course you would hold a grudge like a love sick puppy getting kicked." she sneered at Y/N. "I thought you got over my brother. Shame."

Jaime exhaled sharply. "You always thought me weak over you, didn’t you? The smartest child Tywin had." sis voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "Well - You are not as smart as you think you are, Father was right about that."

Cersei’s gaze flickered to his, searching for the brother she once knew, the one she could twist around her little finger. But he was gone. "Jaime—"

"You were wrong to tear us apart." Cersei’s lips parted, confusion flashing across her face.

"I loved her." Jaime said, stepping closer. "I always loved her. Not you. Not the twisted thing you became. I was just too much of a blind fool to admit it."

Cersei staggered back a step. "You don’t mean that." she whispered. "You and I, we were meant to come into this world together, and we were meant to leave it together. Don’t you remember? Don’t you—"

"Valonqar." Y/N purred into Cersei's ear, placing her hands on her shoulder. Her voice was laced with amusement, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

Cersei paled. Y/N continued, tilting her head. "You always thought Tyrion would be the one to end you. But oh, sweet Cersei…" She stepped even closer. "You held Jaime's foot when you were delivered into this world, did you not?"

"No—" Jaime’s hand shot forward, wrapping around her throat.

Cersei’s eyes went wide. Her hands grasped at his wrist, but she was powerless against him. "Jaime — Please!" she gasped, her voice cracking, her nails clawing at his flesh. "We were— We are... I lov---"

His grip tightened. Tears welled in her eyes as she choked, her body convulsing, her knees buckling. Jaime leaned in close, his voice a whisper. "You destroyed everything we ever had. Everything I could have been." her lips parted, her breath shuddering, but no words came out. "I hate you, Cersei. Good riddance."

Her struggles weakened. Her fingers slipped from his wrist. Her eyes, once gorgeous, green and so full of fire, dulled. And then — Nothing.

Jaime let her lifeless body slump to the floor. For a moment, there was silence.

Y/N looked down at the corpse of the woman who had ruined and humiliated them both plenty of times. Cersei, the golden lioness of the Rock, now just another body, like all the casualties of war.

She turned to Jaime. He was staring at the lifeless form of his twin, his expression unreadable. Y/N stepped closer, reaching for him. He flinched, but she didn’t let go. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, grounding him. "She was never your sweet dream, my love." she whispered. "Only a night terror."

Jaime’s green eyes met hers, filled with something raw and aching. He exhaled, the weight of a lifetime of regret leaving his body. "Let’s go home, sweet Rose." he murmured. Y/N smiled softly. "You promised to sing to me that Ballad you wrote - About the Golden Knight and the Flower Nymph."

"Of course, my darling."

Hand in hand, they stepped over Cersei’s body and left the Red Keep for the last time. Daenerys Targaryen would get her throne, would marry the bastard of Ned Stark who turned out to be Elia Martell's son, Aegon Targaryen; And Tyrion would re-take his position as Hand of the Queen.

Y/N and Jaime would remain in Casterly Rock, where the sea met the stone, forever to enjoy each other's company, in a place where they could finally be free to live their sweet dream.

[storiesfromafan]

Guilty As Sin

A/N: I know its been a while. Forgive me. Had/still have writers block, but have managed to pull this out of the black hole of my mind. Though not 100% sure how I feel about this haha...

Pairing: slight Matthe Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: thoughts of our favorite Slytherin and longing.

Guilty As Sin

We’re all guilty of imaging a moment with someone we couldn’t have. We’re all guilty of those fantasies being sweet and innocent or more passionate and intense. And you were no exception. The innocent nerdy sixth year, whom had her face in a book but a mind that would even make Snape blush, couldn’t escape such thoughts. Chalk it up to teenage hormones, shall we.

And you might be asking yourself just whom was the star of your desires? Why the Slytherin bad boy himself; Mattheo Riddle. The first time you saw him back in second year, with his delightful looks, luscious brown locks, and molten brown eyes. It was love at first sight for you, as well as just about every other female around you in that moment.

Currently you were making your way to potions class. Silently you and a few of your friends were walking behind none other than Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Theodore. They were deep in conversation, hardly noticing the eyes that watched their every move. Every female they passed caste their eyes to them, while whispering and giggling about the boys before you. They were like celebrities.

You had imagined what it would have been liked to walk next to Mattheo down the halls of Hogwarts, holding hands or his arm around you, with a confident smile on his lips. All the while every female you’d pass would look miserable, for you’d have what they wanted. Then when you would reach your classroom, Mattheo would step forward and open the door for you, a sweet smile upon his face with eyes only looking at you.

Two third year boys running by you and your friends brought you back from your thoughts, reality sinking in and making you curl into yourself. Like Mattheo would ever be like that with me, you thought with a sigh.

Looking back up to the boys a head of you, you watched Mattheo open the potions room door, his two friends clapping him on the shoulder before entering the room. His brown orbs lifted in the direction of you and your friends, a soft smile on his lips. All three of you came to the door, expecting him to slip in with a laugh, door closing on you all. But you were pleasantly surprised when he remained where he was.

“After you ladies” Mattheo said gesturing to enter the room.

Wearily your friends thanked him before entering. You on the other hand couldn’t muster any words but gave him a nod. Then regretting it right after. Feeling stupid, you made your way to your potion brewing station and started to unpack for the class. Any thing to distract you from the embarrassment you were feeling.

Not long after what you believed to be the last few students entering the classroom did Professor Slughorn enter the room. Crossing the room, he called out for everyone to settle and to gather by the caldrons by his desk. You smiled at your best friend (name), who returned your smile before you moved to where Slughorn requested everyone. The older man placed the various parchments in his arms on his desk, before searching for something on said messy desk.

Eventually finding what he was after he turned back to you all, he cast his eyes around the room and smiled. Just as Slughorn began to speak, the classroom door opened and in came none other then Harry Potter and his best friend, Ron Weasley. Both looked a little frazzled, probably from the rushing to get to class. With the two new comers addressed and off to get textbooks, Slughorn went back to teaching.

“Now as I was saying” Slughorn began, “I prepared some concoctions this morning. Anyone have any idea what these may be?” He asked, eyes roaming over the class.

As usual, before you could raise your hand, Hermione had raised hers. And of course she was chosen. She stepped up to the different cauldrons, identifying all three potions Slughorn had brewed.

“Such a know it all” (name) said, making you chuckle.

Movement next to you drew your attention before hearing their voice. “She really is” said the one person you hadn’t expected to be so close.

Turning your face slightly you were met with Mattheo, he wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he had taken upon himself to join you and your best friends dislike of the Gryffindor. (Name) chuckled at Mattheo’s response, all the while you felt lightheaded from being so close to the bad boy of Slytherin.

You were brought back to the lesson on hand when Hermoine spoke of the last potion; Amortentia. A love potion. With every word she spoke you could see the females in the room hanging on to her every word. There were some soft laughs when Hermoine spoke of what she could smell, but she stopped with slight embarrassment before stepping back to her place in the crowd. All the while a group of girls slinked their way toward the potion. But then Slughorn covered it, making you giggle.

“Amortentia doesn’t create actual love, that would be impossible. But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession” the professor preached looking over the class. “And for that reason, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room”.

Theodore and Lorenzo, who stood on the other side of Matther snickered. “Better be careful Mattheo, one of the girls here might spike you with that potion” Theodore jested knocking shoulders with his friend.

Mattheo laughed shaking his head. “Guess I better not accept any gifts for a while”.

All the while the three friends talked did Slughorn go on, to which you didn’t pay much attention too. The proximity to the boy of your desires over rid your logical side. You could feel how close his hand was to yours, one slight movement would surely have your hands touch. So close to knowing what it would feel like to touch his skin, to know how warm he was.

Before you could really get lost, you were brought back to Slughorn assigning you all to make an acceptable draught of Living Death. Everyone – but the boys to your left – moved to turn to page ten in the textbook, while the stragglers were a few seconds behind you all.

Once returning to your station, you and (name) began to work on your potion. But not too long after you both started did you have two new comers to the station in front of you. Looking up your (colour) eyes met warm chocolate ones. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Mattheo before you.

“Sorry ladies” Lorenzo said moving some instruments around on the table. “Our cauldron wasn’t working to its full potential. Slughorn sent us over here”.

Your best friend looked both boys over with a serious look. “That’s fine. Just stay to your side”.

They both nodded and agreed. So now not only did you have a tricky potion to make, but it had to be done with your living and breathing distraction so close to your personal space. To say it was hard to focus was an understatement. Hearing him talk to Lorenzo was the best sound to hit your ears, hearing the teasing or the frustration was addicting. Not to mention steeling glances at the boy, watching how his hands worked on the potion’s ingredients. Or the concentration on his face. The thoughts that crossed your mind were never to be repeated to a soul.

While working on autopilot, you found yourself thinking about Mattheo’s hands and where you would like to feel them touching. Staring at your hands, his larger hands locking with your own as he drew you close. The soft words he would whisper in your ear. His lips grazing the shell of said ear as he showered you in compliments. Slowly his hands would leave your own, moving to your wrists, thumbs caressing your pulse. Slowly moving up your arms, drawing goose bumps to your skin, while a pleasant chill roll downs your spine.

His hands would grasp your upper arms, holding you firmly as he kissed your cheek tenderly. Those sinful lips peppering your jawline before descending to your neck. You would roll your head to the side, eyes closing slightly and an airy sigh slipping from your lips as he kisses that one spot on your neck. While his lips worked on your neck his hands would move to your waist, soon moving around to your back and pulling you into his body completely. Your chests meeting, leaving no space between you both.

“(Y/N/N), can you pass me another Sopophorus bean” (name)’s voice came cutting through your daydream. “The little bugger got away from me”.

Feeling your face flush and not trusting your words, you nodded your head a few times before passing your friend what she asked for. All the while cursing yourself for letting Mattheo distract you and send you off to la-la land. Looking from under your eyelashes, you peaked in on the boy before you. From what you could tell, he was focused on his potion and possibly didn’t see you not paying attention.

Thank God, you thought rolling your shoulders.

Putting all thoughts of the temptation before you aside, you focused on your potion. And by the time you were done it was just passable. You felt annoyed with yourself, letting your schoolwork slip because of daydreaming. But you would make sure the next potion was the best. At a frustrated growl, a sound that hit you and made you flush, Mattheo was struggling with his potion. Lorenzo not really helping either.

In a bit of a daze, you moved around the station to the boy’s side. You watched them – or rather Mattheo – closely. Noting what was being done and how it wasn’t exactly how it should have been done.

“You’re stirring it wrong” you said moving to stand between to the two, taking the stirrer from Mattheo’s hand. The brief contact of 2 seconds was enough to tell you he was indeed warm to touch.

“Excuse me” Lorenzo said slightly flabbergasted.

“Look, it has to be stirred like this” you stated mixing the potion the correct way. “If you kept stirring like you were, it would have produced smoke”.

Both boys watched how the liquid seemed to start to change, resembling what their textbook described. Offering Mattheo the stirrer, the both of you sharing a look, he took the stirrer and that brief contact again. Looking back to the caldron, you stood there watching Mattheo’s progress with the potion. Taking a step closer, you felt his leg brush against yours.

You stiffened at the contact, your mind shutting down for a moment. When it finally came back online you abruptly stepped back from the boy. Sputtering words, you think it was something like; there you go. You quickly moved back around to your side of the station and finding the textbook on the table most interesting.

All the while your mind processed how close you had been to Mattheo. As much as brushing legs was, knowing the briefest contact of his hands, you were trying to imagine what it would feel like to be sitting next to each other. His larger hand running up your calf muscle and to a resting spot on your thigh. What the warmth of that hand would feel like on your skin. Would he firmly hold your thigh in his hand, a declaration that you were his? Yes, you think he would. You believe Mattheo would be territorial. Not to mention the jealous type.

Soon Slughorn began to go around and test everyone potions. Yours just passed Slughorn’s test, both you and (name) sighed in relief. Even Mattheo and Lorenzo’s just made it, both boys sheepishly thanking you once Slughorn was gone. You blushed and waved them off. Looking up and over at Mattheo, you were surprised he was looking at you. And when he gave you a small, thankful smile, you knew he was grateful. Oh, the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach from such a small gesture was amazing.

Class was coming to an end; you were packing up your bag while (name) talked about your next class. You were only half listening to her, instead you were watching Mattheo from under your lashes. Silently hoping those beautiful brown orbs would focus on you once more. Only they didn’t. Your heart falling.

Grabbing your bag, you and your friends headed from the classroom and from the dungeons for the day. You softly smiled at your friends as they talked while crossing the room, before walking out the doors. If you had taken a moment to turn back to your station, you would have seen how Mattheo had watch you leave the classroom. An unreadable look upon his gorgeous face.

Theodore clapped Mattheo on the back, bringing the boy from his thoughts. “Come on mate, lets get to our next class” Theodore laughed, walking with Lorenzo.

Mattheo nodded his head, before getting up and following his friends. Only for them to stop by the Amortentia potion. Both Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look, before daring the other to smell the potion. Neither caved in, resorting it calling each other chicken.

Mattheo sighed. “Your both chicken”. He lifted the lid on the caldron and took a deep breath.

“Well?” Both his friends asked, hanging for their friends answer.

“I smell a sweet citrus…” he inhaled again. “Fresh washed linen…and musky books…”

Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look before having a laugh. But then they both stepped up and found out what the potion would smell for them. After both his friends had a laugh at their own scents, they put the lid back on the cauldron before leaving the room. The three scents played over in Mattheo’s mind, one person coming to forth. And she had been in front of him the whole time…

[jerbunni]

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ Sunday x Reader - Chains☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[ ༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩 Minors DNI𓆪ᘚ. °｡༻ ] [ 18+ ] [ Tags ] : kinky, bdsm (chained, blindfolded, cuffed), nsfw, 18+, worship, lore intertwined, eeeviill sunday

[ Synopsis ] : You're riddled with sin. Thankfully, the head of the Oak Family is here to help you find salvation.

Blindfolded, bare, and bound by your hands, you could no longer bear the weight of your sins. Although purehearted, you were a human. And all humans bore sin.

He knew this well. And despite his standing, he, too, was soiled with sin. So much sin that he could not bring himself to let you go. His plaything, the fledgling that he prevents from flying, is caged in an enclosure gilded in gold. 

“Speak to me,” He’d coo, his gloved fingers tracing gentle stripes against your jaw, “I have sought THEIR presence with us.”

“A-And?” You’d whisper in return, your breath hitching as his fingers outlined the collar clasped around your neck, “What do THEY want with me?”

Oh, how wrong he knew this was. Using THEIR will to preach HIS wicked desires. Even so, he could not help himself.

“Do you sincerely repent and vow to pledge yourself to THEIR will?” He hummed, his skillful fingers approaching your collarbone, daring to dip further, “Have you examined your soul and confessed all your sins? Are you willing to accept the process of atonement?”

You hurriedly nod your head, goosebumps peppering your bare skin, “Y-Yes, I’m willing… I-I’ll do anything! I want to atone…”

Truthfully, you weren’t entirely sure what you had done wrong. But he’d never do anything that wasn’t in your best interest, would he?

Peace, tranquility, paradise, these were all things that he promised to provide to you, and eventually the rest of Penacony. You wanted to-- you had to be a part of his utopia, no matter the cost. 

“Very well.”

As he spoke, his fingers retracted from your skin, leaving you cold.

“Then show your dedication to me, and you shall be reinstated among THEIR future.”

You nod your head again, the goosebumps spreading further across your chest, and in turn, hardening your nipples. 

The sound of shuffling is followed by the familiar noise of chains. You feel your collar tighten, the chain attached to it pulling upward to force you on the tips of your toes. 

“Under the light of the Harmony,” he begins, carefully taking off his gloves, “all wickedness is revealed.”

You swallow, breathing becoming heavier as your calves cramp to hold yourself up. 

“I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I’ll perform on THEIR behalf…”

Lightheadedness overtakes you with every word he speaks. Even blindfolded, you feel your eyelids feel heavy as a sensation of repose takes hold of you.

“You’ll have until I say to release yourself, and submit yourself to THEIR will… Prove yourself by telling me-- telling THEM, what you feel.”

With those words, you feel his controlled hands delicately encase your breasts with a soothing warmth. His fingers shaping and molding your pliant mounds to his satisfaction. 

“M-Mister Sunday…” You whine, “W-What if I don’t say anything? Will the Harmony reject me? Will Ena, too, reject me?”

You feel his movements pause momentarily. Though your concern consumes you, Sunday couldn’t care less about your worries. The way you so innocently speak his name gives him all the entitlement in the universe. 

“My dear, THEY would not reject you, less you lied.” With the emphasis on THEY, you swallow. One of Sunday’s hands drifts to your face with a tight hold on your jaw. The tips of his fingers press into your cheeks with a strength that urges a whine from you.

“And if you were to lie, I would be alerted by THEM, mind you.”

You nod in agreement, now having an explanation to the f☐g in ☐☐ur m☐nd. 

“Another thing,” He continues, his digits digging deeper into your skin, “Mind the way you speak of THEM. Manners are important, hm?”

You nod your head once more, your toes becoming sore, “Sorry, Mister Sunday,” you mumble. 

Every mention of his name brings him closer to his breaking point. Still, he continues to hold strong. With the loosening of his grip, Sunday accepts your apology with a kiss. Despite the harsh indents in your cheeks, his lips feel gentle and forgiving. 

“You’re forgiven,” He whispers, his fluttering wings tickling your shoulders. 

He returns his hand to your chest, thumbs grazing your nipples to warrant their perkiness. You shudder in response, your body submitting to him almost instantly. 

You feel the wetness between your legs grow as he continues to toy with your body. Though it’s embarrassing to admit, the f☐☐ in yo☐r mi☐d compels you to speak, “I-I need more…”

“Oh?”

“Please, t-this isn’t enough…”

Your begging pleases him more than you'll ever know. He leans forward, planting a tender kiss between your breasts. His wings flutter as he does so, eliciting another goose-bump-riddled shudder from you.

“What more is it that you need, my dear?” He questions, continuing to work his fingers into your breasts. 

The longer you take to answer him, the heavier the newfound pounding in your head grows. It pains you to be so honest with him, but if it’s for this growing headache to cease, and for THEM to accept you, you’ll answer him truthfully. 

“Y-Your fingers…” You swallow, “D-Down… there…”

“Down where?” He questions, a hidden, sinister smile stretching at the corners of his lips, “Elaborate.”

“Mister Sunday, please-”

You feel your breath hitch as the collar around your throat tightens. You rested your feet only for a moment, forgetting the purpose of the chain that had lifted you. 

“Please, do be careful,” He mumbles, “It’d be a shame for my favorite little pl☐☐th☐☐g to hurt herself.”

You’re not entirely sure what he said, the f☐☐ in your bra☐n is too strong to comprehend it. But to be crowned his favorite anything is an honor you won’t be taking for granted. 

A weak smile stretches onto your lips as you thank him. But you don’t forget about his demand from earlier. 

“I-I… I need your fingers on my p-pussy…”

You’re beyond embarrassed, but even so, Sunday doesn’t shame you. In fact, he rewards you for your honesty by listening to your request, all with that smile plastered on his lips. 

“Of course,” He hums, one hand slipping past your ribs and navel to graze against your slick entrance. 

He gives your breast a firm squeeze as his middle finger prods at your slit, compelling you to buck your hips. Your calves are incredibly sore, but you want to stay strong for THEM-- for him.

“Your body’s so honest…” He mutters, his index joining his middle finger as he continues to collect your slick on his digits, “You enjoy such a ritual? You enjoy submitting to THEM?”

You open your mouth to speak, your cheeks becoming hot as you rethink your answer. It’s not THEM that you enjoy submitting to…

“I-It’s not…” You pause, gathering your thoughts. Your honesty’s cascading so effortlessly from your lips, “It’s you… I like it when you touch me…”

“...Is that so?”

You nod your head, your fingers flexing behind you as your legs wobble, “Y-Yes… S-Sometimes, I find myself looking for things to repent for in order for you to…” You trail off, swallowing hard. The more you speak, the more aware you become of your surroundings. 

Due to your lack of vision; his rhythmic breathing, the slick sounds of your moistened folds, and the ☐og i☐ yo☐r br☐☐n consume you. Every touch forces your body to break out in goosebumps. You’re so painfully sensitive, hot, and honest. So, incredibly honest, it hurts. 

“Come to, my y/n,” He coos, giving your boob another tight squeeze, “I need you here. Finish your sentence. Tell THEM.”

You feel your tongue numb as you speak, and you can’t help but slur your words, “T-To touch me… I-I find myself looking for things to repent for so I can feel your hands on me, M-Mister Sunday…”

As soon as you finish your sentence, you feel his fingers brazenly push into you. Your legs wobble, and it takes everything in your power to straighten your posture and stay on the tips of your toes. 

“Is that so…” He mumbles again, this time with a lack of regard for your feelings.

You hurriedly nod in response, as if lingering for even a moment will disturb your repenting ritual.

"Yes... F-For you, Mister Sunday, I-I even go so far as to--"

Interrupting you, he catches your whimpers with a kiss. 

With his lips pressed so tenderly against yours, you can’t help but lean forward into him. The collar around your neck tightens as you do so.

You're choking. It hurts. But you don’t care.

You need him.

You’re addicted to his touch. 

Once he pulls away, your whimpering resumes, and it’s intensified with the thrusting of his fingers. Despite the lack of thickness, they’re long, and they press right into the spongy little spot that makes your legs shake. 

“S-Sunday…” You whine, your cuffed hands shaking behind you, “F-Feels so good… please don’t stop…”

To you, he's on the highest pedestal imaginable. There's no world in which he'd even dare to stoop to your level. But in reality, he’s filthier than you. He finds his own pleasure in hearing your pleads, the tightness in his pants growing evermore with every whine. 

“Why would I?” He questions, the grasp on your breast growing painfully tight, “THEY enjoy your honesty. THEY revel in such a thing.”

You wince at the harsh hold on your chest, it’s sure to leave a bruise, "D-Do THEY?"

No response.

The pace in his fingers quicken, the slick noises emanating from your pussy bringing a swirling sense of shame in your stomach. Surely, you aren’t this filthy…

“O-Oh... M-Mmn..! S-Sunday, P-Please-”

You’re so close. You grind your hips down into his fingers, the collar choking you as your legs shake out of exhaustion. Even so, your chase for pleasure consumes you, and you ignore the tightening feeling on your throat to continue seeking after your high. 

“Please what?” He asks.

“I-I need to cum- P-Please, let me…!”

With a soft chuckle, he bends forward to place a kiss onto your forehead. 

“If THEY allow it….”

Your breathing grows heavier in an attempt to combat the suffocating tightness around your throat, yet you still decide to chase this pl☐☐su☐e. 

“M-Mister Sunday…” You whine out, tears wetting the cloth blinding you, “P-Please…”

You find yourself growing weak, your body giving in to the f☐g. You can’t comprehend anything else, only the ☐☐g cl☐uding y☐u☐ br☐☐n. You need this. You need him. 

He laughs again, letting go of your breast to instead hold onto your jaw. With a tug, he forces you back onto the tips of your toes.

“If my pla☐th☐ng wants it…”

You nod your head, mimicking him without full understanding of what it is you’re mimicking, “Y-Your pl☐☐yhin☐ w-wants it…”

Aeons, you’re perfect. You’re perfect, and you’re all his. He wastes no time to kiss you once more, and you return the kiss with all the desperation pent up inside of you. 

You feel his warm, wet tongue prod at your bottom lip, and in response your mouth falls open to allow him entrance. 

You need to release, but it’s hard to beg when your words are silenced by his tongue. Thankfully, however, he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting between the two of you before he speaks:

“Cum for me.”

With little hesitation, you feel the butterflies in your stomach swirl and bubble up before dispersing into a cascade of slick down his fingers. Whimpering and babbling ‘thank yous’, your knees buckle at your own release, and the grip he holds on your jaw tightens in an attempt to hold you steady. 

Annoyedly, he sucks his teeth.

“What a mess.”

“S-Sorry…” You whine, your calves cramping, “M-Mister S☐nd☐☐…”

Though you say his name, the spelling seems to slip your mind.

He doesn’t respond to the plea of his name, instead deciding to bask in the sight of you. He drinks in everything from your desperation to your contentment, admiring the sweat and slick glistening down your naked body. 

“Su☐☐ay…”

Another mention of HIS name seems to get HIM to respond to you.

“Ah?”

“My feet hurt… A-And I’m tired… May I please be released…”

Admittedly, he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to stay here, basking in your presence forevermore. But the guilt would eat at him. You were too precious.

“...Yes…” He finally gives in, releasing his hold on your face to lower the chain holding you. 

Once the tightness on your neck loosens and the cooling sensation of the chains extends down to your lower back, you fall to your knees with a shaky sigh, hands still bound behind you. 

“Thank you…” you sigh, “Thank you, thank you…”

He didn’t want to let you down, but the sight of you on your knees beneath him is more rewarding than the initial scenery he was so desperately clinging onto. The strain in his pants becomes so painfully stiff as you speak, “D-Do THEY accept me, now? I-I did everything you asked of me…”

What should he say? 

Using THEIR power is sinful enough, but to postpone your atonement for HIS enjoyment?

You feel his warmth as he bends down to you, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair to direct your attention to him.

“...You mentioned you seek atonement to warrant my touch…”

Your lips quiver as HE speaks. You nod your head, mouth hung slightly agape as you try to stutter out an explanation. 

In response, he shushes you, his soiled fingers pressing against your lips. He doesn’t need to speak in order for you to get his hint, your mouth falls farther open as you take his middle and index into your mouth to clean him. 

“THEY have yet to accept you, however…”

You find yourself chasing his fingers as he tries to pull away, your lips frantically closing around his knuckles with a whine. You taste so delicious. No longer is it the ☐og ☐☐ yo☐☐ ☐☐ad. It’s pure desperation for HIM. 

Despite your silent plea, HE pulls HIS fingers away, leaving your mouth feeling empty. 

“You haven’t submitted to me.”

“Ah..?"

“Not fully, anyhow.”

“Then, w-what more must I do, Su☐☐a☐…?”

HIS hold on your hair loosens before slipping away altogether. Having been relying on HIM to hold you, you feel yourself sink onto the floor fully.

“For starters,” HE begins, rising above you, “Mind your manners. Honorifics are important, hm?”

“H-Huh?” It takes you a moment to comprehend HIS words, but once you do...

“A-Ah, I’m sorry, M-Mister S☐nd☐☐…”

Oh you’re just so perfect for HIM.