#I was thinking of like a dragon themed OC perhaps

[caffichai]

It's a little while till Lunar New Year, so in the meantime...

If you think "something else" and comment/send an ask, I'll definitely put a lot of consideration into that! At the very least I'll probably add it to a future poll!

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen OC, Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen OC

Warnings: Swearing, smut, slight body shaming, mentions of SA

1.02

It felt sinful to do anything sexual in the bedchamber that previously belonged to your father, but you were in no position to refuse when the king summoned you during the night.

Aegon keeps his eyes closed, getting lost in the warm sensation of you taking his dick into your mouth as deeply as possible. You bob your head back and forth, tears stream down your face, and at the same time, soft sounds of pleasure slip past his lips. Nearing his orgasm, Aegon fists your hair in his hands to keep a better grip on you while he fucks your mouth roughly. Just as he’s about to reach the peak of his pleasure, he pushes you back, and your hands sting, slapping against the ground to keep you from falling completely back.

“Not yet,” he grunts. “Pull your top down, now!”

Doing as he says, you pull the thin material of the nightgown straps down so your breasts are bare for him. Aegon strokes his cock a couple of times before coating your breasts in his cum. After he strokes your hair as if he were petting a cat or dog. “Good girl, good girl.”

You gulp down, “May I return to my chambers? It’s late, and I’d like to rest before leaving for Winterfell.”

“Ah, yes, you’re going to meet, um,” in his post-orgasm state, Aegon struggles to remember what house stayed in the North. He clicks his fingers and says, “House, uh, Lann—um, nope, it’s, oh fuck.”

“House Stark.”

You go to pull your nightgown up again, and he lets out a dark chuckle. He pinches your nipple roughly and says, “Perhaps once I put a babe in you, these will become bigger.”

“Perhaps your grace.”

—

“Princess.”

“Morning, Ser Arryk.”

It wasn’t unusual for the knight to be near since he was your sworn protector, but you hadn’t expected him to escort you to the dragonpit at such an ungodly hour.

Your bedchamber is dimly lit by a few flickering candles, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Your bed is draped in a soft green fabric with golden flames decorating the edges, which match the walls that are adorned with intricate gold filigree. The room is spacious and opulent, with plush velvet curtains, fine dragon-themed tapestries, and a grand fireplace that crackles with warmth.

You continue brushing your long hair that smells of different rich oils from your bath the night before. “Sit, please. I’m still awaiting Bethan.”

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible; Bethan no longer works in the castle, princess.”

Bethan was your most loyal and favorite lady in waiting; it didn’t make sense for her to suddenly leave without telling you. “I don’t understand. Is she hurt?”

“There was a delicate incident during the late hours of the night, Princess, but it has been dealt with. “I can send for another lady of your choosing.”

"No, it’s fine; I don’t want to bother them.” You were only waiting for Bethan to help braid your hair merely because you enjoyed her company.

“Ser Arryk? What do you mean by a delicate incident?”

As his helmet was off, you could see the knight's jaw twitch slightly. “Princess?”

“Bethan is an only child and looks after her sick mother. I’m worried she won’t be able to do so if she’s unable to work.”

“The queen dowager gave the lady a handsome amount of money, princess. Probably more than she gave Dyana.”

You place the brush on top of your vanity and begin to separate your hair into smaller sections to braid. While thinking over his words. You had just assumed Helaena’s lady in waiting had been relocated to another part of the city to work.

“Why would my mother pay them?” You mumbled to yourself more than the knight. Your mouth suddenly goes dry; you would only pay to cover up something that would taint your family’s reputation if it were terrible. “Did Aemond do something to Bethan and Dyana?”

“No princess, Prince Aemond has never done anything to harm any of his servants of which I’m aware.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as tears fall from them; you knew deep down it wasn’t Aemond. “So Aegon did; he abused his power and hurt them. Did he force himself on them?”

Ser Arryk nods.

“Oh gods,” you bury your face into your hands. “Aegon treats me like a whore, and I am his kin, his future bride, so I dread to think about how he treats them.”

The knight crosses the room and wipes away a fallen tear with the pad of his thumb. “I’m glad you’re going to Winterfell, Princess. As a king's guard, we are prevented from intervening in the king’s doings, even when we know it’s wrong.”

Through teary eyes, you look up at him and say, “I’m ready to go to the dragon pit; if you’d please accompany me, Ser Arryk.”

“You haven’t finished braiding your hair, princess.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

—

You are struck by the sight of the snow-covered landscape the deeper into the North you go. The sky is a deep shade of blue, and the trees are decorated with icy crystals. Your feet sink into the snow, and the distant howls of wolves in the distance capture your attention. Seasmoke spins and faces the tree line and lets out a loud screech. With the snowfall becoming heavier, it takes you a moment to realize what he’s looking at.

A slightly smaller dragon emerges from the snow; its mouth opens wide, and you stare at the flames in the back of its throat, yet it does not burn you.

You don't move when you hear a voice order you to. You’re pushed behind a figure. “Daor vermax, daor!”

The dragon hisses before disappearing behind the vale of snow.

Seasmoke roars as he abruptly takes to the sky, lighting the sky with his flames. It was no doubt a signal to the younger dragon to stay away.

“Prince Jacaerys?”

“Princess Lynesse,” he says, trying to keep all emotion from his voice, but the glare in his eyes and the clench of his jaw muscles give him away. “You should go inside; you will just be freezing after your long journey.”

You gripped Jacaerys arm, preventing him from walking away. You thought the gods were cruel for letting this happen. “If it’s possible, can we talk in private? We are one house, once betrothed. And long before that, we were friends.”

“No.”

—

The last two days had been nothing short of humiliating; you felt nothing more than an outsider, an intruder lurking in the shadows of the castle. Your nephew ignored your presence unless absolutely necessary. Lord Stark did allow you to speak with him privately, giving you the chance to advocate for Aegon, but you simply stated you admired House Stark for not breaking their oath, thanked him for his hospitality, and announced you’d be leaving in the morrow.

It was clear there was a strong brotherly bond between the Lord and Jacaerys, so there was no point in trying to change his loyalties.

Laying out clothes for the morrow, you sniffle as your eyes tear up, thinking of how lonely you will be without your trusted lady and only true friend when you return to the red keep. The only people who would truly care for you upon your return are Helaena and Aemond.

Your heart pounds in your chest when you turn and see a figure standing by the doorway with a scowl on their face. Hand clasping against your chest, you gasp, “Oh, seven hells.”

Jacaerys stares directly at you, and you can feel his disapproval radiating from him. He closes the door before storming towards you. “What is it you are trying to achieve? Not once have you tried to convince the Stark’s to fight for Aegon. If anything, you have pushed them to fight for my mother’s claim.”

“Have you been spying on me, nephew?”

He grates his teeth and says, “Do not jest.”

“The Stark’s are a proud house; I will not sully myself by pretending they are anything but. If I had arrived to before you, then things would have been different,” you brush out the ruffles of your skirts that are sprawled across a chair with your hand.

“I presume your siblings are doing the same, flying to different houses as envoys?”

You scoff at the question; Aegon would not do such a thing. Without looking back at him, you say, “Just myself and Aemond; Helaena has no part in this.”

“But you choose to?” His voice is laced with pain. “You choose to advocate for a usurper.”

“What was I supposed to do?” You snap, finally turning to face him. “My mother used to say everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones that one day, Aegon would be our king. And if not, my brother's lives would be forfeited.”

His cheeks flush red with rage. “As for my half-brothers and my sweet sisters, they have been led astray by the counsel of evil men. Let them come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask my forgiveness, and I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart, for they are of my own blood.”

You stare at the prince blankly.

Sensing your confusion, Jace sighs, “Those are the exact words my mother said to Maester Orwyle and Otto Hightower when they came to Dragonstone.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “It is not true; they said Daemon threatened to burn us all.”

Jace looks over at you, a sob threatening to spill from his lips. “Do you really believe my mother to be so cruel?”

“She has just lost her father, her baby, and her throne, which has been taken from her. Rhaenyra has every right to want us to burn for all that was taken from her.”

“Is that what your king would do? Have us all killed.”

Hearing the mocking tone in his voice, you shove his chest, although the prince barely flinches. “Yes! My grandsire tried to send the former Lord Commander to Dragonstone to kill all of you, but thankfully they refused.”

“The greens are a trait—”

You don’t allow Jacaerys to finish his sentence, and you cut him off while shoving him again. “You can hate me and judge me all you like, but don’t you dare call me a fucking traitor! You’ve no idea the things I have done to try and keep you safe!”

He closes the space between you, his breath hot on your face, and he tilts his head to peer down at you. Jacaerys' tone is much softer: “What—what are you talking about?”

As the Jacaerys continue to stare at you, you start to feel overwhelmed with emotion. Tears stream down your face as you realize the gravity of the situation. You have never before felt so scared to speak the truth. Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself down. “I cannot say; you’ll think a lot less of me than you already do.”

Gently, he attempts to calm you by brushing fallen strands of hair out of your eyes with his thumb. “Swear to me now, princess, that you’ll bend the knee to my mother, and I’ll promise to do everything I can to protect you.”

“I cannot,” a pathetic chuckle passes your lips. “What I want does not matter—to abandon Helaena and her children in the red keep knowing what I know is worse than doing nothing while a brother usurpers his sister's throne.”

Jace cups your face and says, “Come back to Dragonstone with me.”

You step back and turn to face the other way, placing your hand in your bodice, and retrieve a small chain with a seahorse on the end. Clutching it tightly, you look back at him and say, “I kept it close to my heart for all these years.”

“I gave it to you the day King Viserys announced our betrothal.”

You hand the necklace back to him and say, “Aegon will take me as a second wife when I return.”

He struggles to hold back unshed tears. “Do you love him?”

“He is my brother, and despite everything, I want to keep him safe. Him, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron are all that I hold dear. I can’t let anything happen to him.”

“Princess Helaena would be spared, as would your brothers.”

“I wish things had been different,” you sob, your breathing becoming more erratic. “You wouldn’t speak to me when I first got here. Why are you now?”

“Because I didn’t want to witness someone I loved speaking ill of my mother, but you never did.”

Your heart ached. “I am no longer a maiden.”

“Did Aegon…”

“He laughed;” tears fell from your eyes, but you felt nothing but anger. “Aegon laughed as he left my bedchamber, gloating about how he had bloodied his cock with the strong bastard's future bride maidenhead.”

Jacaerys kisses your forehead.

“All this time, I’ve tried to convince myself that Aegon loves me, even if it’s just as his sister, but I’ve been fooling myself. In truth, I don’t think he knows how to care for another.”

“Look at me.”

You met his gaze, and looking into Jacaerys bloodshot eyes made your heart begin to water again.

“If you come to Dragonstone with me, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Daor — No

[mint-yooxgi]

{3} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Small focus on Wooyoung & San)

Words: 4,238

Warnings: Minor violence. Like, really minor. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, this chapter isn’t as Ateez packed as you may think, but it sets up some plot relevance which will be explored later on. Jongho is also gonna make a reappearance next chapter with the OC in person ehehe, so I hope you’ll all look forward to that! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Mini Masterlist

It doesn’t even take Jongho a full day to semi-break the deal Hongjoong had made with you. Sure, you may not see him, but you can sense his presence lingering around your house. He lingers in the woods, keeping just behind the tree line and out of your sight each time your head darts up to look in his direction.

You won’t confront him, no. There’s no reason to. Not when he keeps his distance and stays out of your way, but you know he’s there. Always lingering in the background, toeing the line between the trees each time you sense his presence shifting in the bush.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. After all, what more is there for you to say to yet another dragon who has lied to you and broken what little trust you had in him.

Trust doesn’t exactly come easy for you. Not after that incident. Yet, those you do allow inside your inner circle have both an unquestionable loyalty, and trust from you. Dragons which you have known for years, even before the incident occurred. Like the Neos.

What’s even stranger to you still, are the two other presences you can sense lingering around your cabin from time to time. Like Jongho, they conceal themselves well enough, but you do not understand why they choose to simply observe you in your day to day tasks.

Perhaps you’ll just have to go for a walk one of these days and ensure that they leave you alone once and for all. The last thing you want is an ambush from all eight of them.

Currently, a week after that whole incident with the Hala dragons, you find yourself pruning your garden. Your back is turned towards the forest, knees digging into the dirt as you pull some weeds out from between your finer herbs. You make sure to clean up the area, talking softly to your flowers as sweat beads at your brow.

Wiping at your forehead with the back of your hand, you sit back on your knees.

“You have some very happy plants,” a voice is heard behind you, causing you to chuckle.

Turning your head, you see a familiar male walking towards you, another in tow.

“I should hope so,” you hum, standing back to your feet as you brush the dirt from your pants. “I always make sure to give special treatment to the ones I care for.”

“That we do know,” the second male smiles, a tender pull of his lips upwards.

You mirror the expression, and you swear you hear a sharp inhale come from the woods behind them. 

“Jungwoo, Sicheng,” you look at each male respectively, “what brings you two around today?”

“I heard you were in need of a new backdoor,” Jungwoo hums, eyes darting passed you to see the wooden slab you’ve placed precariously over your one entrance temporarily.

“Only took you a week to come offer,” you chuckle, playfully nudging his shoulder with the tips of your fingers. Then, you’re looking towards Sicheng. “What about you?”

“Renjun was worried.” The male shrugs. “He would have come himself, but you know how he gets during harvesting season.”

“Any more emotional suppression, and I swear that boy’s head will pop clean off his shoulders,” you shake your head, an affectionate tug to your lips upwards.

“You know he cares in his own way,” Jungwoo replies, already inspecting your entranceway after moving the slab aside. “In fact, he’s been keeping those cubs of your in check for you since last week. You don’t know how many times we’ve caught them trying to sneak out to come see you recently.”

“They’re all worried about you,” Sicheng comments, briefly meeting you gaze. “So is Kun.”

A sort of sadness takes over your features for the briefest of moments, but in a flash, it’s gone as soon as it comes.

“He misses you, you know,” Jungwoo hums, turning to glance at you from over his shoulder. “Not a day passes by where he doesn’t regret what happened between the two of you.”

“It’s been fifteen years since then,” you sigh, kicking at the ground lightly with the tip of your foot. “A simple case of the right person at the wrong time.”

This time, you don’t fail to miss the way a growl sounds from the woods behind you.

Both male’s eyes flash, gazes drawn to a point in the forest just behind you. Though, at the way you subtly shake your head, they’re quick to act like nothing happened.

“It just wasn’t meant to be,” you wipe your hands on your pants once more. “Sometimes we don’t get to choose who we love. I have no regrets, and I certainly don’t hold it against either of them. I know how happy Yoona makes him. They chose each other as life partners, after all.”

“Renjun still hasn’t forgiven him.” Sicheng adds casually, walking into your kitchen to pour himself, and you, a glass of water each.

“Renjun doesn’t forgive a lot of things,” you hum, accepting the glass graciously once he hands it to you.

“Correction: Renjun doesn’t forgive a lot of things that happen to you.” Jungwoo says, walking over to the edge of the woods. “Neither does Taeyong, but he’s a different story.”

“Yeah, Renjun’s more of a petty grudge holder, while Taeyong is a direct action kind of guy,” Sicheng nods, pulling out one of your wicker chairs to sit off to the side in the shade as he watches Jungwoo work.

“Though, if either of them saw him again, it’s on sight.” Jungwoo’s words hold a hit of a growl, echoed lowly by Sicheng in the background. “After what he did to you-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You cut him off almost immediately, those memories once again threatening to consume your mind in the next second.

The two males share a look.

“So, are you going to stand there all day, Woo, or are you going to fix my door?” You quirk a brow, turning to face the male still standing by the edge of the woods.

Again, you swear you hear a sharp inhale come from the opposite side of the  forest.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting to it,” he teases. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“Well, the fact that I’ve been practically living without a backdoor for a week now,” you begin. “Who knows what kinds of creatures live in these woods. I’m lucky I haven’t been raided yet. So many things like to lurk in the dark.”

Sicheng bursts out laughing, nearly falling out of the chair he’s sitting in. “Since when have you ever been worried about a break-in?”

“We all know you are more than capable of handling yourself.” Jungwoo adds, holding out his hand as he begins to fashion a brand new wooden door for you from the trees just at the edge of your clearing. “What with your heightened senses and all.”

“Don’t forget that strength of hers!” Sicheng raises his glass in mock salute. “Trained over half our clan with what she knows.”

“I don’t think Jaemin would be as good a tracker, or Jeno a good a fighter if it weren’t for her.” Jungwoo hums, tracing his hand over the slab of wood once it’s fully taken shape and testing for imperfections in the design.

“This is complete good boy erasure,” a third voice is heard as two more males step out of the woods.

“No kidding,” Chenle rolls his eyes, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Here I was thinking I was your favourite.”

Haechan shoots a look at Chenle out of the corner of his eyes. “We all know I’m her favourite.”

“In your dreams, Donghyuk,” Chenle retorts, eyes sharp as he glares at the elder male.

“Oh, good, you’re here.” Jungwoo observes. “One of you can help me with this since lazy bones over there would rather relax.”

“I heard that!” Sicheng calls out.

“You were meant to!” Jungwoo retorts, smartly.

“You know, I could have helped you, too, Woo.” You huff, a minor quirk to your brow.

A low, pleased rumble sounds from somewhere behind you in the forest, and immediately, your two cubs are on high alert.

“You’ve been busy today.” Jungwoo replies calmly. “If anyone deserves to relax, it’s you, Lovely.”

Another low growl is heard from the woods in front of you.

“How can I relax when I’ve got these two Little Ones to keep an eye on now?” You grin, turning your attention to both Chenle and Haechan before you.

“I thought I told you that we’re men.” Chenle grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest in the next second.

“You can call me your Little One all you like,” Haechan hums, moving swiftly over to you and wrapping his arms around your torso. He makes sure to keep them low around you, completely avoiding touching anywhere on your upper back as he melts into your embrace.

Softly, you caress his spine, moving to run your fingers through his hair as he holds you tenderly in his arms.

“I missed you, too, Little Bear,” you hum affectionately, placing a gentle kiss onto the side of his head.

“No fair! I want a hug, too!” Chenle whines, puffing out his cheeks angrily.

You release your hold on Haechan after a moment in order to extend your arms towards the younger male. “Come here, my Little Lele.”

Instantly, he’s rushed over to you, nearly tackling you to the ground in his eagerness to embrace you. Like the elder, he makes sure to hold you low around your back, not daring to bring his touch anywhere close to your upper spine, or shoulder blades for that matter.

A soft smile rests on your features as you hold Chenle to your chest, feeling him humming contently against you. Slowly, a sense of calm begins to wash over you for the moment, perfectly content to relax into the embrace your cubs have provided for you.

That is, until you hear snarling coming from the woods behind you.

Immediately, all five of you are turning towards the commotion, seeing two familiar men being shoved out of the foliage by two more of your cubs.

Your brow quirks, watching as both Jeno and Jaemin shove the two Halas to their knees, pinning them to the ground just like you’ve taught them.

“Found these two lurking around on our way over,” Jaemin says, hand harshly gripping the one on the right’s hair and tugging his head back. “Their scent is everywhere.”

“This one gave away their location quite easily,” Jeno comments, perfectly mirroring Jaemin’s position as he tugs the other male’s head back by his hair. Though, this one grimaces in response.

“There’s a third one in the woods behind you,” Jaemin adds. “Be careful, he could attack to save his brothers at any moment.”

“I know,” you hum, surprising the two males on their knees before you. “I’ve known they’ve been spying on me this entire week. All three of them.”

“You have?” The one with the mole beneath his left eye voices, incredulously.

“Yes, bloodroot boy,” you confirm with a blink. “I have. The same way I know that Jongho has been the one leaving me flowers on my porch every morning since then.”

Sicheng meets your gaze only briefly out of the corner of your eyes. You know he saw the bouquet in the vase on your counter when he went to get you water earlier. Yet, smartly, he says nothing. He knows you’ve always had a soft spot for flowers, no matter the type. Any type of plant for that matter. You’re always good with them, anyways.

The youngest of the Halas isn’t subtle, either. The various red roses, Lilly of the valleys, and yarrow flowers all portraying exactly what he wants to say to you. A message you’ve heard loud and clear.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I will always protect you.”

“Why haven’t you chased them off then?” Jungwoo’s brow furrows.

“The deal was I’d never have to see them again, and that they would leave the village alone.” You shrug. “So far, they’ve kept to their word. I see no reason to attack them unprovoked, you know I’m not like that.”

“I should have fixed your door sooner,” Jungwoo mutters, shaking his head at himself. “Any one of them could have gotten in while you were sleeping.”

The two on their knees share a brief look between them as another growl echoes through the woods behind you.

“If that were the case,” you reply, quite pointedly, “one of us would be dead, and it wouldn’t be me.”

“You should have taken Taeyong’s offer to come stay with us,” Chenle begins to scold you, worry creasing his brow. “At least that way we’d know you’d be safe.”

“You worry too much, My Cub,” you ruffle his hair, much to his discontent.

“We all know that you can take care of yourself,” Jungwoo shoots a pointed look at the younger male who now stands pouting with his arms crossed off to the side. “We just wish you’d let us help you more often.”

“You all help me plenty enough already,” comes your reply, a small sigh escaping you in the next second. “We can discuss this later, we have more important things to worry about.”

Your gaze immediately shifts to the two males still on their knees before you.

“So, bloodroot boy, honeysuckle boy,” you address each of them individually with a nod of your head, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Honeysuckle boy?” A slight pout pulls at San’s features.

“We don’t have to answer to you.” The one with the mole beneath his eye snaps, gritting his teeth as Jeno tightens his grip in his hair.

“Did one of the others put you up to this?” You quirk a brow, voice nothing but accusatory. “Spy on me to learn my patterns so you can all attack when my guard is down?”

Several threatening growls sound around you in warning.

“No, that’s not it, we swear!” San is quick to defend them both, hands almost reaching out pleadingly in your direction only for Jaemin to yank his head back quite harshly in the next second.

“Then what is it?” You look between the both of them, your guard high.

A moment of silence passes over all of you.

“We’ve just been curious, is all.” The one with the mole mutters lowly.

Your brow quirks. “Curious?”

“Your knowledge of herbs and tonics is truly unmatched,” San swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “I was hoping-“

“What?” You cut him off with a slight scoff. “You were hoping what?”

“I was hoping…” his voice trails off slightly, suddenly coming out smaller than before, “that maybe…” he seems nervous, “you could teach me what you know.”

If your eyebrows could raise any higher, they would completely disappear into your hairline.

“You come into my house, threaten me to heal your asshole of a brother after he absolutely got what he deserved, and then practically break your deal with me, all because you want me to teach you?” You voice, incredulously. “You sure have some audacity, boy.”

“I told you this was a bad idea.” The one with the mole whispers harshly to the other.

“Shut up,” San snaps back. “You were just as interested in learning more about her as I am.”

“I will do no such thing.” You continue, ignoring the heated glares that they seem to be sending one another for the moment. “I’ll forgive this misstep this time since it was my cubs that brought you out of hiding, but if I ever see your faces again, I’ll make what I did to your eldest look like child’s play.”

The way San’s expression falls is immediate, his shoulders deflating as you watch that spark of hope within his eyes die.

“Please-“

“No.” You cut the male off, expression stern and voice firm.

“I told you this would be a waste of time.” The other male hisses, a scowl on his face.

“Then why did you come?” San rounds on his brother as much as he can, eyes flashing. “You knew as well as I did we could be killed if we were caught, yet you still wanted to tag along.”

Bloodroot boy remains silent, biting his tongue.

“I don’t kill for no reason, boy.” Your eyes narrow at him. “I’m not like you.”

“Right, you give warnings.” The one with the mole rolls his eyes.

“That’s right.” You reply, somewhat amused by his attitude for the moment. “Now, my cubs will escort you back through the woods to ensure you leave my territory for good. Then, I never want to see your faces, nor sense your presences near here again. Do you understand?”

“But-“

“Do you understand?” You cut San’s protest off immediately.

Bloodroot boy’s eyes flash. “Whatever you say, Your Highness.”

A snarl tears from your lips, along with both Jungwoo’s and Sicheng’s.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap, eyes flashing a deep amber in the sunlight.

Both Halas are taken aback, clearly shocked by your sudden reaction. So much so, that they blink a few time at you in surprise.

“Get them out of here.” You motion to the woods with your head.

Immediately, all four of them are leading the two Hala’s to the edge of the forest, surrounding them on either side. You have complete faith in them that they’ll be able to handle themselves should the two Hala’s choose to attack. Even if Jongho decides to try and help his brothers, you know your cubs can take care of themselves. Besides, you’re one warning cry away.

“Well, that was interesting,” Jungwoo remarks, moving back to finish fixing your backdoor.

“You’re telling me.” Sicheng huffs, actually moving to help Jungwoo set the new door on its hinges.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to say that,” you huff, amusement dancing in your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Still, I’m more concerned with the fact that you’ve known they’ve been spying on you, yet you’ve chosen to do nothing about it.” Jungwoo shoots a somewhat worried glance at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“In technical terms, they’ve kept to the deal.” You shrug. “I’m not about to break it myself. You know I’m not like that.”

“Yes, you have some of the highest and most honourable ideals amongst us all.” Sicheng nods, a sort of admiration shining in his eyes.

“I should hope so,” you grin lightly. “It was beaten into me ever since I was small.”

“Not literally, though,” Jungwoo spares a glance towards you as he tests the new door on its hinges, letting it swing back and forth a few times. “Right?”

“No,” you shake your head, a smile now pulling at your lips. “Though, the upbringing was rigorous.”

“We don’t doubt that.” Sicheng’s eyebrows flick upwards briefly in acknowledgment. “Given who you’re father is.”

“Let’s not talk about my father.” Your reply is short, noting the way the two males nod once tersely in understanding.

“Well, your door is all fixed now.” Jungwoo grins, closing it gently as both males come to stand before you. “Try not to break this one.”

“It wasn’t me that broke the last one,” you roll your eyes. “It seems to be that I’m never the one to break my own things. Need I remind you of what you and Jaehyun did to my old kitchen table? Remind me never to let you both drink that much ale again.”

“To be fair, it was Yuta’s idea.” Jungwoo grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest as a subtle blush begins to creep up his neck.

Sicheng chuckles, along with you.

“You still went along with it,” you remind him, a knowing gleam in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungwoo waves you off, a sheepish chuckle falling from his own lips. “Anyways, we should get back, it’s getting late.”

“I need to make sure Ten and Yangyang haven’t burnt down the house.” Sicheng sighs. “You’ll never guess what those geniuses wanted to try today.”

“Oh, please,” you grin, brow quirked in amusement. “Do enlighten me.”

“They wanted to try baking.” Sicheng shakes his head, as if already picturing the catastrophe that will greet him when he gets home.

“Oh, lords,” you mock fainting, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead, “spare us all.”

The two males share a laugh with you as you walk with them to the edge of the woods. Just in time, too, for your cubs return in the next instant, breaching the tree line and joining the three of you.

“What do you mean we have to go back?” Jaemin whines, crossing his arms over his chest as an overdramatic pout tugs at his lips. “We only just got here.”

“You weren’t supposed to leave the house today.” Jungwoo replies, shooting the younger male a pointed look.

“What’s this I hear about my cubs not behaving themselves?” You quirk a brow, noticing how all four of them seemingly shrink beneath your gaze. “You know to listen to the others when I’m not around to watch over you.”

“We were worried,” Haechan pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We wanted to check on you,” Jeno adds. “We heard from Chenle about what happened, and the fact that we found those two Halas stalking you after the fact…”

“With a third one who doesn’t seem to understand boundaries,” Jaemin adds, shooting a pointed look into the woods a little ways away.

“Really, you can’t blame us for coming to see you,” Haechan voices, somewhat matter-of-factly.

“You should have seen Johnny and Yuta when we got back that night,” Chenle’s eyes widen significantly, as if recalling the memory. “Even Jaehyun was fuming. It took Taeyong over an hour to calm them down.”

“Mark wouldn’t stop rambling,” Jungwoo hums in acknowledgement. “You know how he gets when he’s worried.”

“Ten nearly marched right out the door to come see you that instant, were it not for Taeyong holding him back by the scruff of his neck.” Sicheng recalls, amusement shining in his eyes.

“Next time, Johnny says he’s gonna drag you back to our house with him if something like this happens again.” Haechan says, a sort of pride filling his words as he puffs out his chest.

“You admire him for wanting to take someone against their own will?” Jeno asks, incredulously.

“When it concerns the protection of one of our own,” Haechan replies somewhat sharply, his eyes flashing, “yes.”

“I’d like to see that gentle giant try,” you chuckle, a sort of fondness shining within your gaze. “Now, you all better hurry up and get back before both Renjun and Taeyong start worrying about you.”

“But-“ Jaemin begins to protest.

“No ‘but’s,” you shoot him a look. “I can handle myself just fine. You all know this.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with us?” Sicheng offers, meeting your gaze.

“Positive.” You smile assuringly at all of them.

“Okay, well,” Jungwoo draws your attention to him next, “you know where to find us if you need anything.”

“Of course,” you reply, a gentle nod to your head before your gaze is sharping as you turn to look at your cubs. “You four,” you take your time to meet each of their eyes, “be good.”

Four smiles are all your receive in response, a few of them nodding their heads eagerly as well. At least you know they’ll listen to you.

Waving them off, you watch as all six of them disappear into the woods, getting lost in the foliage as their voices become more and more distant with every step they take. The light of the setting sun begins to cast warm hues of amber across the land, and you find yourself letting out a small sigh as you head back towards your cabin for the evening. You suppose you should get cleaned up.

An hour later, and after scrubbing the dirt from your body, you find yourself sitting in your kitchen, eating a light supper. The only light comes from the oil lamp you have lit beside you, and you watch as the flame flickers, casting shadows all around the room.

Your shoulders hunch as you heave out a low sigh. Restlessly, your one hand taps at your counter, leg bouncing as every minute passes by.

You don’t know how much longer you can wait. It’s already been a month since you last visited her, but you haven’t wanted to dare the trek this past week. Not with Jongho and the other Halas lingering in the woods around your cabin.

Though, tonight, you might just make an exception.

Pushing yourself off from your stool, you’re quick to grab your cloak. Tossing the material over your shoulders, you’re quick to exit the backdoor of your cabin. You don’t even bother to take the lamp with you as your steps practically glide over the grass beneath your feet. You’ll use the moon to guide you, just like it always has. Besides, you could walk this path in your sleep.

And just like you’ve done many times before, you disappear into the night.

[bunnakit]

I promised ages ago that I would remake this post with some easier to read text and properly put the text in a post, and 3 months later I finally did it!

Just a reminder, this is all my own observations, research, opinions, etc. We only have 2 examples of the Zonai to base things off of, which means we have to draw a lot of assumptions and fill in a lot of gaps. There's no wrong way to engage with their lore, create an OC, etc. This is just a breakdown of what I've noticed, looked up, pondered, and the process I used to make my own Zonai~

Something I think is important to note (and keep forgetting to mention) is I named Vasru using the naming conventions we can easily discern - Mineru and Rauru both end in 'ru' but it's unknown if this is a title, family naming convention, or simply something applied to all Zonai.

-

Long neck, arms, and torso but relatively short legs by comparison. Wide hips with very narrow waist seems consistent between AMAB and AFAB but unknown if racial or familial trait.

Rauru has small horns, unknown if Mineru does as well as we never see beneath her mask. Unknown if horns are a sexually dimorphic trait or individual trait.

Floppy vs upright ears are potentially a sexually dimorphic trait but could also differ per individual.

Shared center eye, nose, and eye markings. Unknown if racial or familial.

Hair, ear, and eyelashes all same color. Unknown if white hair is racial or familial.

There seems to be a penchant for jewelry and adornments.

Unknown if limited to royal family. Shows heavy Mayan influence and often features nods to the Triforce, Sheikah Eye, and dragons.

Rauru features a tuft of scale-like fur on his chin and cheeks, only cheek fur is shared with Mineru. Chin fur is likely a sexually dimorphic trait.

Sexual Dimorphism - A distinct difference in size or appearance between the sexes of an animal in addition to difference between sexual organs themselves.

-

Draconification is known to be achieved through swallowing a secret stone.

The Zonai and the dragons share many physical characteristics such as horns, ear, and eye structure. In an excerpt from 'Creating a Champion' we learn the dragons do have some goat-like features intentionally.

The existence of the 3 dragon-themed armor sets along with repeated dragon structures in Zonai ruins could imply that Dinraal, Farosh, and Naydra already existed in the time of the Zonai.

It's important to note as well that the Zonai were often seen as Gods from the heavens. With this and the obvious connection the 3 dragons have to the 3 Goddesses from previous games (Din, Farore, and Nayru) I don't think it's out of the realm of possibility that perhaps Dinraal, Farosh, and Naydra were Zonai tasked with protecting Tri-Force (which the Zonai were known to worship) and in an effort to better guard the Tri-Force they swallowed each piece and underwent the process of draconification. The shared names, elements, and corresponding Tri-Force pieces just make this thought process very interesting to me.

-

When designing my own Zonai OC (Vasru) I was very careful to pull as many details from the game as I could. In an effort to keep his design from being too busy I simplified some elements of the various armors and jewelry.

Vasru is transgender and to represent this I took the markings from the Ancient Armor (the reward for finding all shrines) and used them beneath his pectorals.

If we operate under the assumption that horns are a sexually dimorphic trait we can then assume Vas'use of the Dinraal inspired headdress is in an effort to cover that missing feature.

When designing a Zonai I believe it's important to take inspiration from elements of the game and respect the Mayan influences shown.

Have fun!

[jackoshadows]

The way Jonsa shippers keep insisting all over the Jon tag that Jon Snow is only interesting if he gets together with Sansa. We know!! Jonsa has always been a Sansa ship - by and for Sansa stans. 

Every Jonsa post I have read makes it clear how much they dislike book Jon Snow, his canon relationships and story arc. Which is why they rewrite the character with the Jonsa version being this unrecognizable, mangled and mutilated OC blob who has even less in common with the book version than even the show version.

That’s why they don’t read his chapters and headcanon his personality, narrative themes and story arcs as some kind of fairy tale prince whose story will have meaning only, only if he loves and marries Sansa.

That’s why they erase Arya from Jon’s story and write ‘metas’ on how GRRM will repeat Jon’s entire ADwD story with Sansa in TWoW, why they turn Dany into a villainous monster and keep telling everyone that Jon is boring because his story so far has apparently only been about prophecies and dragons....

Oh and also their Sansa is the most interesting character in the whole series  - her chapters are all about Sansa being an adept politician and making treaties with other leaders, negotiating, trying to save people, understanding her privilege, learning about other cultures, conflicted between duty and love, butting heads with her deputies, trying to grow food and she will teach Jon Snow how to be a wise politician leading to Jon murdering the evil Daenerys for his truest and fairest love in all of Westeros, Sansa Stark.

We get it - the bastard navigating the Westerosi class system and bigoted prejudices as he earns his way to the top will only be interesting as a prop side character to pro status quo Sansa Stark. And if GRRM does not write Jonsa, then the whole series is boring and useless and has no point to it....

The story is apparently not about the outcasts and the underdogs, the dregs of society, the characters who are trying to make something of themselves in an unjust world, who are ambitious and want better things for themselves, who are kind and want better things for others. Nah, all that is boring for these shippers.

 Again, this is what happens when one skips entire chapters of the characters and instead read Jonsa ‘metas’ and farcical theories on how GRRM is writing the entire book in secret code and all the characters in Jon’s story like Sam and Satin are actually code for Sansa and stand ins for Sansa, that whenever Jon thinks of Arya he is actually thinking deep in the recesses of his brain about Sansa, that Jon had a crush on Sansa because he couldn’t resist 11 year old Sansa’s beauty, that growing up he settled for ‘ugly’ Arya because as a bastard he just could not hope to ever get beautiful Sansa. That Jon’s story from AGoT to ADwD has no point or purpose and his actual story only starts when Sansa gets there....

If one really thinks that Jon Snow’s 42 POV chapters is him being a ‘cut and dried fantasy hero’ and that the character will be boring if he plays a main role in defeating the existential apocalyptic threat from beyond the Wall - a story that he has been part of from book one - in a grimdark high fantasy novel and instead his character will only be interesting if he transports to Disneyland, settles down with the most beautiful, wise and fair queen Sansa and they had ten children and lived happily ever after, then perhaps the Jonsa section of AO3 would be more suited to one’s reading than A Song of Ice and Fire by GRRM. Just saying. 

[asykriel]

Love is the Death of Duty - 11.

® do not repost or translate !

☆ Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Male! Targaryen OC

☆ Status: Ongoing 

☆ Summary:  

“He is half of my heart.”

War made monsters of them all, but it also brought the two second sons together in a flurry of death, love, deceit and delusion. The story of Aemond Targaryen and the eldest son of Daemon and Rhaenyra, Maegor Targaryen, second of his name. 

☆ Warnings: Sexual content, explicit violence, dark themes, targcest etc.

☆ AO3 ☆ || ☆ Wattpad ☆

☆ CHAPTERS: (Prologue) / ( 1 ) / ( 2 ) / ( 3 ) / ( 4 ) / ( 5 ) / ( 6 ) / ( 7 ) / ( 8 ) / ( 9 ) / ( 10 ) / ( 11 ) / ( 12 ) / ( 13 ) / ( 14 ) / ( 15 ) / (16 - WIP)

☆ Masterlist ☆ ||  ☆ Spotify Playlist ☆

➸ Previous part

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CHAPTER 11

Lord Corlys, all I ask of you is spare a ship and a handful of men to take my brother to Dragonstone. 

I promised my mother I will keep him safe.

────────────────────────

With dawn comes the clash of steel and wood, arrows whirring through the air, the roar of dragons echoing across the tumultuous sea and flames burning brighter than the sunrise. 

Maegor and Aemond flank Dorne's armada from opposite sides while Addam Velaryon with the Driftmark fleet meet them heads on. The two Targaryen Princes fly and torch in sync and this time Vhagar is not kept in the shadows as a backup plan.

Like the war machine she is, Aemond unleashes her and she seems to remember from the old days how the Dornish smelled when they got charred. It fills her with renewed vigor and youth because not even the few scorpions that manage to scrape her or latch into her flesh slow her down, instead they only make her burn with more fury. And perhaps even Saagael's ferocity reminds her of the times she fought side by side the Black Dread.

As more of the Dornish ships burn or get sunken beneath the waves by the Driftmark soldiers, Maegor steers his dragon and torches right through the enemy again, scorpions flying without precision, failing to hit the swift target. This time he doesn't turn the Cannibal to circle around and launch another attack, instead he keeps on flying straight ahead, leaving Aemond behind to assure the destruction of the fleet and the Seasnake's victory.

When the time is right, I will make my move. I trust Prince Aemond with my life, and so can you.

The black dragon soars through the skies, cutting through the clouds as his wings beat faster than ever before and Maegor has just one target in mind. 

Sunspear.

Dorne, a land known for its independence and resilience, has become Maegor's obsession since last night, his mind churned with plans of conquest. And not only this, but a chance to prove himself once and for all in front of his family and anyone else that might dare question his worth.

I'll show you a real dragon.

House Martell was always too prideful, stubborn and hot blooded. It led to poor decisions and now they had to pay its long awaited due to House Targaryen.

It was Princess Alliandra Martell, seventeen of age, who became the current ruler of Dorne. Her father, Qoren Martell died at the hands of Daemon's spies, years after the first war in the Stepstones, while she was still just a child, not to young to forget however.

She has made a fatal error by sending the majority of her forces to conquer the same barren islands. An inexperienced and reckless choice enabled by her own small council. A mistake that Maegor intends to fully exploit, using her negligence to strike at the heart of Sunspear itself. Now the city is weak and it beckons to him like a ripe fruit ready for picking. 

The distance between the Stepstones and Dorne is covered quickly on the back of a dragon as fast as the Cannibal, and by the break of noon a shadow begins to grow larger and larger upon the sand walls and buildings in Sunspear.

Rare clouds in the sky casting their shadow on the lands, the Dornish think  at first, until the form becomes larger and clearer and they hear the deafening roar that turns their blood cold under the desert sun.

They don't get the chance to react. Maegor spares no time or mercy and he allows the Cannibal to do what he loves the most.

Burn.

Mass hysteria settles in. The people below scatter in fear, scrambling with no direction, their voices echoing with cries of panic as they try to run for their lives and find a hole to hide in. 

But nothing escapes dragonfire.  

Fools did not keep a single Black Scorpion in the city, sending them all with the ships instead. Chaos erupts as the remaining soldiers scramble in a desperate attempt to defend their home. But the arrows shooting at the beast do nothing against the armor that were his dark scales. It was a futile struggle against the might of a dragon and the ambition of a Targaryen.

Every corner of the city is engulfed into blaze and panic. Maegor slowly becomes drunk with bloodlust and power, laying waste to everything below him. His ears pound with adrenaline. The hopeless screams of suffering fuel him more instead of making him take pity in them and cease his attack, while the Cannibal shows them why the smallfolk call him a harbringer of death.

By now half of Sunspear and its people were in flames. A blazing inferno.

The seat of House Martell is left untouched however, on purpose. Maegor wants them to watch from the balcony of their Old Palace how he turns sand into ashes. Break their minds first so that they will bend the knee easily. 

Burning the city continues, until he hears the loud rumble that reverberates through the air. The sign that Maegor was eagerly waiting to hear. It meant only long awaited victory and peace of mind for him, knowing that his lover is unscathed. Not that he ever doubted him or his dragon's might.

Aemond and Vhagar, having decimated the Dornish ships alongside the Seasnake's fleet, appear on the horizon and the older Prince's eye is fixed upon the blazing city, his nephew's masterpiece. The scorching ceases momentarily so that the two of them can be reunited in the air. Maegor wastes no time and takes the lead, flying the Cannibal straight towards the Old Palace with Vhagar on his tail, their presence a formidable display of power.

The two dragons land in front of the castle's gates, flattening whatever structures or humans were under them and the ground shakes under their sheer size. 

Aemond and Maegor dismount and they begin walking together in silence, stealing a few glances from eachother, towards the last feeble display of defiance. No one tries to oppose or stop them. The surviving Dornish soldiers, now faced with the terrifying presence of the Targaryen dragons, can only submit to their riders and they lay down their weapons as both beasts bare their sword like teeth.   

Even if she did not burn this time, the sight of Vhagar alone,  sends shivers down the spines of the Dornish people. The stories of Visenya Targaryen riding Vhagar during the time of Aegon the Conqueror have been passed down through generations. The dragon's flames had scorched the Dornish lands, leaving scars upon the sands that still whispered tales of devastation. 

Now, Vhagar's presence once again cast a long shadow over Dorne. The people see in her the  symbol of the Targaryen might that almost crushed their ancestors' resistance. And today might be the day when she might finish what she started decades ago.

As the two Targaryen enter the main hall of Old Palace, the Princess, her steward and two knights from her guard meet them halfway, the rest of her small council and the courtiers watch in fear and anxiety from the shadows, behind pillars or from balconies. Maegor notes how she immediately locks eyes with him and Aemond, walking with a regal aura around her, trying to seem like she is still in power while her city is smoldering.

Aemond watches her and her knights carefully, a hand on the hilt of his sword as his shoulder is pressed against his nephew's, both of them keeping close to each other at all times. If anything goes wrong he is confident him and Maegor alone could slice through all of them without the aid of their dragons.

"Alliandra Martell." Maegor calls out first, the tone of his voice cold and commanding.

"Maegor and Aemond Targaryen." She mirrors him but her tone is full of spite at the word 'Targaryen'. 

Maegor's jaw clenches slightly.

"Your pathetic attempts to claim the Stepstones have left your home vulnerable and weakened. Without an army too, I made sure of it." Aemond scoffs at her and the two knights exchange worried looks behind her back. A few gasps are heard throughout the hall at the news.

"Surrender now, and I will spare further bloodshed. Dorne shall bend the knee and unite under the Crown's rule with the rest of the kingdoms." Maegor wastes no time laying out exactly what he wants.  House Martell has no options left anyway. Him and Aemond could wipe out every trace of their bloodline, if bastard-making was not one of their main hobbies.

Hushed whispers begin to echo around the main hall, some blaming the poor decisions of the Princess and being in favor of uniting with the rest of the kingdoms. Even in Dorne, Targaryen loyalists emerge, especially in the face of death.

"Our sands have weathered countless storms, including you, Targaryens . We shall weather this one too." Princess Alliandra, her expression a mix of defiance and desperation, takes a step forward. 

"Dragonfire fire burns hotter than any Dornish sun, you should know this by now." Aemond says sharply.

"I'm being generous by giving you a choice, bend the knee and spare the rest of your city and people. I will take Dorne either way, it matters not to me if it's just sand and ash." Maegor was slowly starting to lose his patience going back and forth with her. The Princess needs to decide fast.

The courtiers' voices become louder by now but neither Princes pay attention to them.

"You're no better than Daemon Targaryen. He did the right thing by naming you after a mad tyrant. Perhaps you will have the same fate as him?"

"Watch your tongue." Aemond sneers at her, taking a step in front of Maegor, protectively.

The two Dornish knights both instinctively grip their curved swords.

The younger Prince places his hand on his uncle's elbow, rubbing an unseen thumb against the fabric of his coat to get him to relax. 

"Spare me the history lessons. You don't know anything about my house. And I'm starting to lose my patience." Maegor glares at her harshly. 

Time is ticking against the Martell. 

"Perhaps some more burning will make the Princess decide faster , wouldn't you say nephew?"

Before Maegor could answer his uncle, the steward excuses himself and takes Alliandra aside where they are joined by the rest of the Martell council. What begins as a hushed choir of whispers soon starts into senseless bickering and both Princes can feel their nerves stretched out to a breaking point, especially Maegor who was already irritated from the start.

"Your time has ran out Princess. I've been more than patient, considering I've been dealing with your Triarchy mongrels for a long time." Maegor barks, his voice echoing through the hall. This seems to finally get the Princess and her council to fall silent.

A subtle change is noted by both Princes, Alliandra Martell no longer holds her head high and confident, instead she is frowning at them with visible anger on her face.

Aemond keeps a close eye on her. Wary of the sudden change of attitude.

Instead of her coming before them again to speak, the steward, an elderly Martell man does, bowing his head and keeping it low when he closes some of the distance between them.

"My Princes, we accept your conditions and generous offer to unite under the same Crown, but we beg of you, spare the rest of Dorne."

This is it? All her initial defiance just to be outpowered by her own council?

Somehow Aemond is not buying it, but nonetheless he gives his nod of approval when his nephew glances at him, almost as surprised as him by the sudden change.

"Some wisdom at last." 

(Art by me)

────────────────────────

Time passes quickly and by the time the flames throughout the city die out, night settles in, as well as momentarily peace.

 Realizing that resistance is futile, the Martell Princess feigns submission and disappears from their sight, leaving her steward to invite Maegor and Aemond to a lavish feast in their honor as it was protocol. The Targaryen Princes, reluctantly accept the invitation, keeping their guard raised with a sense of caution lingering in their hearts, while the dragons still rest right where they were left, keeping guard and forbidding anyone to enter or exit the castle.

While preparations for the feast are taking place, Aemond never leaves his nephew's side. They are both given their own private quarters, but neither of them feel comfortable being alone in what not long ago was their enemy's lair. 

"We should send out ravens." Aemond suddenly speaks from the large divan he is lounging in. He raises his nose from a random Dornish book he picked to look at his nephew.

"I'm sure they found out from other sources by now." Maegor sighs, leaning back against the armchair he is sitting in. Weeks of build up exhaustion really caught up with him by now. All he wishes is to be done with this charade and fly out somewhere with Aemond where he would have some peace alone in his company. He's not exactly keen on breaking bread with the Dornish and faking enjoyment, especially since some hours ago he was burning down half of Sunspear.

"Which is why we should personally send ravens. Unless we want our families to go at each other's throat for this piece of land." Aemond puts down the book and stands up from the divan.

"You know they will either way. But if you insist, write the letter, uncle, I trust your words better than my own." Maegor closes his eyes, resting the back of his head against the armchair as he feels his uncle's fingers carding through his silver locks.

Just for a fleeting moment he wants to freeze time like this. Even behind enemy lines Aemond could put him at ease with simple gestures. 

"There's still some time left. Rest up my Prince." Aemond leans over to plant a kiss on his nephew's forehead before he takes a seat at the desk, paper and quill in hand.

The corners of Maegor's mouth twitch into a subtle smile and soon enough he dozes off, lulled by the sound of the hawk quill dragging ink against the paper.

With that, Aemond sets to work, allowing himself the freedom to carefully write a piece of information that none of the possible sources know. Not even his nephew, at least not yet. He keeps it short and brief, no need for bragging and boasting in a letter. 

They could do that later on when they would eventually return to the capital, or at least Aemond hopes they will. He still has to find a way to deal with his mother and grandfather and keep his drunkard and nosey brother at bay, if he wants to take Maegor back to King's Landing with him. For now their relationship needs to stay private, away from the prying ears and eyes of his Hightower side of the family. If the harsh slap that his mother would deliver to Aemond's face, would be the only consequence that resulted from their relationship becoming public, the Prince can gladly take it. But he knows there's no way the punishment will be so light. And worse, Maegor will surely suffer more gravely than him.

At least he comforts himself with the thought that Helaena would surely take their side and support them, she knows best what's it like to be unable to choose who you want to love.

Outside of the quarters, across the hallways, the ruckus of the servants making the final feast preparations grows louder. It doesn't take long for a guard to lightly knock on the door, without daring to enter. Aemond doesn't answer verbally, so that his nephew can be spared a few more moments of sleep. They'll attend the feast when they please, now that Dorne was under their rule.

Instead, he makes his way to the door and demands a raven cage to be sent over. Naturally the guard obeys and swiftly fulfills the command with no complaints. He is simply glad to be alive. Even if a lot of Dornish people hold deep hatred for the Targaryens, House Martell especially, they are now powerless. Between submission and dying an agonizing death ripped apart or burned to death by a dragon, the choice is obvious.

Once the letter is complete, the older Prince rereads it twice before writing another copy, sealing both of them with melted wax and the Targaryen seal.  Two ravens are sent with the letters, one meant for the Iron Throne and the other for Dragonstone.

────────────────────────

I pen this letter with a heart filled with pride and admiration for my beloved nephew, Prince Maegor Targaryen, Second of his name. In the recent war for the Stepstones, Prince Maegor displayed unparalleled courage, determination, and leadership. He led our forces with unwavering resolve, fought fiercely in the battles, and ultimately triumphed in conquering Sunspear and the lands of Dorne. He succeeded what the Conqueror before us could not, uniting all Seven Kingdoms under the same rule.

It is with great honor and privilege that I announce to you all that, in recognition of his valor and dedication, I proclaim Maegor Targaryen as the Prince of Dorne and Ruler of Sunspear. His tireless efforts and sacrifices have earned him this title, and I have no doubt that under the Crown, Dorne will see a new era of unity, prosperity, and peace.

In the name of House Targaryen and the Iron Throne, I ask all the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdoms to recognize Prince Maegor  Targaryen as the rightful ruler of Dorne and offer their loyalty and support to his rule and rightful claim.

Prince Aemond Targaryen.

────────────────────────

The older Prince is positive his nephew will be as shocked as the recipients of the letters when he finds out about his titles. But he deserves them, and who else is better fit than Aemond to give them to him? 

Poor Maegor is still sleeping soundly in that armchair, exactly how his uncle left him. Aemond lets out a silent chuckle and barely brings himself to stand from the desk. He does not want to do this, but they need to show their faces for a few hours in the main hall at least, unless they want House Martell to get delusional ideas once again.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon, dombo ēdrugon." The older Prince whispers against his nephews ear.

Maegor jolts awake, finding Aemond looming over him, hands on both sides of the armchair.

"Qybor." Maegor groans at Aemond, his body relaxing in an instance at the familiar face so close to his own.

"It's time for the feast, nephew. You can rest more, after." Aemond smiles at his annoyed face. His hands are itching for more contact, but if they want to ever reach that feast he needs to keep himself in check. And his nephew.

Maegor groans louder in annoyance, rolling his eyes. He doesn't want to endure any second longer in the presence of any Martell or Dornishman.

"Don't worry, we can leave as soon as dawn breaks and we settle our affairs here. I've already sent out the letters." Aemond reassures him.

"No. We leave after the feast, I'm not planning to exceed my stay in Dorne." Maegor stands up stretching  his tired arms. Even at night the heat and dry air of the desert is unbearable, especially since he was still cladded in his dragonrider garments.  He could swear he has sand in his boots too.

"Our dragons are tired as well as we are. You especially. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep, Maegor?" Aemond rubs over his eyepatch, turning back to the desk to dispose of any drafts he started. 

Tiredness is slowly creeping on to him as well but he can endure it longer, after all his arrival is still a recent one. It was Maegor who had weeks of fighting before him and he's surprised that his nephew is still holding himself out so brazenly. It's to be expected, he's a dragon and a warrior.

"If my head wasn't spinning from all the Arbor wine that night, I'd say when I had you in my bed." Maegor follows his uncle, closing the distance between them. He hugs Aemond from behind, pressing him against the edge of the desk. 

In a year at most, Aemond is sure that Maegor will reach his height, if not even surpass him.

"You can have me in your bed again. After the feast." The older Prince emphasizes and turns around to face him. 

Maegor scoffs at the sound of that dreaded dinner again and drops his hands to his uncle's waist.

"Or I could have you now and we can forget about that whole charade. We can have our own celebration in private." The younger Prince presses his lips against the side of his uncle's neck.

Aemond exhales a shaky breath. He can feel his willpower and composure slowly slipping. His nephew is turning into a cunning fiend right before his eyes, but he has to resist the temptation.

"You know how things work, Maegor. Bare with it for just a few hours." He runs a hand through his nephew's hair, untying the messy half ponytail that were keeping his silver bangs from Maegor's eyes.

Teeth suddenly sink into the side of his neck and Aemond lets out a soft wince. Someone clearly doesn't agree with him.

"Fine. But you need to make up for this, uncle." Maegor sighs dramatically and raises his head from his neck to look at him.

"Ao gīmigon kesan, ñuha dārilaros." Aemond chuckles. His nephew's childish stubborness and playful antics are like a breath of fresh air after the recent events.

A glint of something shines in the younger Prince's odd colored eyes.

Suddenly Maegor presses his lips against his uncle's and Aemond soon enough finds himself with his back flat against the desk, his nephew's body  pushing down on his own. 

Aemond groans in his mouth and Maegor keeps kissing him like his uncle is his sole lifeline. Wild and desperate. Maybe it was the pent up anger and exhaustion that gathered during the weeks at war, but he's starving and hungry for Aemond, worse than before their first night together.

A knock at the door reminds the older Prince that he needs to recollect his scattered thoughts and find his willpower again to be able to attend to their duties. However, Maegor doesn't seem to pay attention to it. 

His uncle's fist in his hair yanking his head back snaps Maegor out from his feverish state. They stare at each other a little longer and Aemond notes how wide his nephew's pupils are blown. 

You'll be the death of me.

Aemond clears his voice. Another knock, and the steward's voice excusing himself can be heard from outside the quarters.

Maegor slams a fist against the desk, groaning in annoyance as Aemond stands up, fixing his clothes before fixing his nephew's garments as well.

────────────────────────

The feast is held in the grand hall of Old Palace, with house Martell courtiers and Targaryen loyalist nobles gathering to witness the pivotal moment. 

Much to both of their irritation, the Princes are seated opposite from each other at the high table. Maegor next to the Martell Princess at one end and Aemond at the other end next to the steward.

The younger Prince could feel his blood boil the moment he sat himself in the chair and felt Princess Alliandra's presence uncomfortably close to him. This arrangement was on purpose, he's sure of it. 

Aemond watches him all the time and begs him silently to keep his calm, for his sake at least.  Maegor swallows down his anger and keeps his usual stoic facade in front of all the eyes that are upon him. Only one matters however, his uncle's violet gaze is the only ounce of comfort that keeps him grounded and collected.

All kinds of lavish dishes and drinks are brought out, carried by the servants on huge plates. Neither Aemond nor Maegor touch anything before they make sure everyone around them does. After all, if pride is the first thing house Martell is renowned for, poisons are a close second. They have to be vigilant.

Maegor tries to zone out and shut off all the noises and voices around him until he feels a light touch on his arm that makes his anger flare out instantly.

"Prince Maegor, I offer my deepest apologies. My house and people have a lot of pride, it's not like us to bend the knee so easily, surely you can understand." Alliandra Martell speaks in a smooth voice, rubbing her hand over his forearm.

For a swift second Maegor contemplates if he should rip her hand off but sucks in a sharp breath instead, removing his arm from her touch politely as he hums in approval. If he speaks now he'll say something that he'll regret. What is the Princess even playing at? First she wishes death upon him and now she's trying to seduce him.

At the opposite side of the table Aemond buries his nose in a wine cup so that the anger that makes his expression contort at the sight displayed before him doesn't become so obvious. His nephew meets his violet glare with an apologetic one and Aemond shakes his head. It's not Maegor's fault. They both have to bear this night without deciding to burn down the other half of Sunspear still standing.

The Martell Princess doesn't quite catch the hint unfortunately and keeps touching and trying to make conversation with Maegor. He's so tensed up he can feel his flesh hurting.

Suddenly she stands up, and the hall falls silent, the courtiers moving their attention to her. Aemond glares daggers at the Princess but it seems like she either does not see him or simply ignores him. 

"After many thoughts and advice from my council I wish to come forth with a proposal, one that will perhaps solidify the union between Dorne and the rest of the kingdoms." Alliandra says looking at Maegor with a smile on her lips, fake obviously, as she raises her wine cup.

The Prince raises an eyebrow and only nods, feigning interest. He's certain delusion runs deep through house Martell but he needs to play along for now.

"I propose we marry each other, that way we can strengthen our houses and forget about our clashes." 

Aemond's slams his empty wine cup loudly against the table, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword at the audacity. All attention falls to him now.

However, before Aemond can utter a word, Maegor lets out a harsh, mocking laugh that reverberates through the grand hall. 

"Marry you? Have you forgotten your place, Princess? Shall I remind you that I've brought Dorne to its knees along with you? You must confuse the term prisoner with betrothed." Maegor lets out another chuckle, staring at the Martell from his chair.

"I haven't, but I believe this marriage would be beneficial to the realm and our houses." Alliandra's expression falters but she tries to keep her composure and deceitful smile.

The Prince scoffs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He stands up from his chair, towering over the Martell Princess as he looks down on her.

"Half of Sunspear is in ruins, your army is charred and you've lost your kingdom. This isn't an alliance proposal, it's an act of pathetic desperation. And even if the circumstances were different, I already belong to someone Princess, someone who will have my heart until the end of time." Maegor eyes search for his uncle's for a moment then they return to lock with Alliandra's.  

With her plan crumbling before her, Princess Alliandra's expression turns dark with anger and her facade of hospitality is shattered as she returns to her true self from the beginning.

"You dare to mock and reject me?" she hisses, her hand reaching into a hidden pocket of her dress from behind, from an angle where Maegor can't see.

But Aemond can. And his sharp eye is following her closely as all of his senses are on high alert. 

"Have I not been clear enough, Princess? Stop embarrassing yourself any further in front of your whole court while I'm still asking nicely." Maegor scowls at her, clenching his jaw and fists and doing his best to control the anger that was boiling under his skin.

"Prince Maegor, Prince Aemond, I wish to make a toast." The old steward suddenly calls to the Targaryens as he stands up from his chair next to the older Prince, wine cup in hand.

This brief distraction is all that Alliandra needs. In a fit of rage and swift motions, she pulls out a small vial from the hidden pocket and quickly brings it to her lips. 

By the time Aemond snaps back his attention towards his nephew it's too late. 

With a sinister smirk, she forcefully presses her lips against Maegor's, forcing him to swallow down the liquid.

Gasps echoes through the hall as the horrifying scene unfolds before the courtier's eyes.

Maegor grabs her by the throat and she laughs in his face. He tries to choke her out but almost instantly he feels all the strength draining from his body. His knees buckle under his weight and he falls against the table, his vision clouding. A surge of immense pain follows and he grits his teeth trying to cling to consciousness.

"You treacherous harlot!" Letting out a snarl of desperation Aemond jumps over the table, drawing out his sword in the process and slicing through the steward who, no doubt had a big part to play in this sick plan. Only two foolish guards try to stop him from reaching the Princess, the same two from earlier. 

"I'll send your father my deepest condolences." Princess Alliandra leans over Maegor, whispering in his ear. 

"A shame though, you were such a looker." She traces a nail over a thin scar across his left cheek.

Adrenaline courses through his veins. Acting on instinct, Maegor musters all remaining strength left and, with a fierce determination, he hurls himself from Alliandra's embrace against the floor. He shoves his fingers down his throat, retching until he manages to vomit all of the contents of his stomach in an attempt to rid his body from the poison before it's too late.

Aemond mercilessly cuts through the guards, blinded by sheer fury before he rushes to his nephew's side.

"Seize her!" Aemond shouts but no one dares to move yet, too frozen with shock or fear or perhaps they are all part of her plan. 

The loud growls and restless rumbling of the two dragons right outside the castle walls reminds them of their presence and they quickly make up their minds. By now both beasts sensed something was wrong, especially the Cannibal through his strong bond with Maegor. Eventually house Martell's own guards finally seize their former ruler, awaiting further orders from the older Targaryen.

Princess Alliandra simply stares at Aemond with a satisfied smile on her lips. She knows the outcome of this, but if she can take at least one Targaryen with her, it's a victory in her book.

"Qibor.." Maegor coughs and lets out raspy breaths. 

"Shh Maegor. Ȳdra daor ȳdragon, vīlībagon. Nyke kostagon daor ojughagon ao." Aemond's hands tremble as they cup his nephew's face. Suddenly panic settles in, the thought of losing Maegor like this before they even got the chance to spend their days together is unbearable.

Whatever the poison, it is a very potent one and Maegor would surely be dead by now if it wasn't for his quick thinking. Judging by his state, there are still some traces of it left in his system.

Rushing to the table, Aemond grabs a bowl of salt and pours it into a water pitcher before running back to his nephew.  He forces Maegor to drink large gulps of salt water and waits until his nephew starts retching and vomiting again until there's nothing left to come out from his body.

"You fool, he already swallowed some of it. Your nephew will die and you will make sure to watch." A sudden laugh makes Aemond see red. 

The urge to cut Alliandra's head off her shoulders gnaws at him, but he can't allow her such a sweet, painless death. No. She needs to suffer the same way she made Maegor suffer.

"I'll make you pay. You and all of your treacherous leeches that aided you. Take her outside." The tone of Aemond's voice drops to a dangerously calm.

Throwing his nephew's arm over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist, Aemond heaves him up. Maegor feels like he was threading the thin line between consciousness and total darkness while the sharp pain still tears through him, from head to toe. His legs feel boneless as he is suddenly raised up, but he struggles to stand despite the pain and helplesness and stumbles along, supported by his uncle. The guards follow, Alliandra now silent behind them. 

Even in this state, Maegor is raging in his head, angry that he ended up being defeated so easily. 

Angry that he cannot rip the Martell bitch limb by limb with his bare hands.

At the entrance of the Old Palace, the dragons are restless and distraught under the night sky. At the sight of his rider's weak body getting dragged by Aemond, the Cannibal lets out a roar, seething with fury. The beast lowers his head bearing his teeth and growling dangerously at Aemond. Vhagar rumbles and snaps her jaws in the air, close to Saagael's head as a warning.

"Daor! Lykirī!" The older Prince shouts at the two beasts. The last thing he needs is for them to start ripping each other apart.

Maegor groans painfully trying extend a hand to his dragon. The moment he lets go of his uncle however, he almost crumbles to the ground if not for Aemond to pull him back against his body.

The Cannibal lowers his head further, bringing it closer to his rider. He inhales and exhales deeply, taking in the scent of the young Prince before he lets out a low, silent cry.

"Ziry gōntan bisa." Aemond tells the beast and there's no doubt that he immediately understands by the way he reacts.

 Slitted sapphire eyes like Aemond's gem get locked on Alliandra's form. Her face suddenly drains of color when she meets the Cannibal's cold glare.

"Bring her over."  

The guards reluctantly obey and approach the Princes, all while both Vhagar and Saagael watch, sizing them up with a predatory glare as the men cower in fear before them. 

There's no trace of pride or ambition left on the Martell's face. All of her previous confidence and foolish bravery is now replaced by dread and fear.

"Mazverdagon zirȳ hīghagon." 

A final command is given.

Make them scream 

Before the guards or the Princess can react, both dragons lower their head in synch, opening their massive jaws and closing them around the three at the same time, with Alliandra being in the middle. Despite their sheer size, both Vhagar and the Cannibal act with precision, careful to keep their main target alive long enough to be able to feel the pain. The two guards are ripped apart swiftly and almost too painlessly, they aren't the main course however. Alliandra has the privilege of getting torn apart methodically, limb to limb like Maegor wished until her agonizing screams turn into a gurgles and eventually die out completely just as quick as they started. 

If they had any time to spare Aemond would have personally dealt with her, but Maegor is the priority now and he can feel him get weaker by the minute. There's no time to waste. He needs to take him to be tended by maesters as fast as possible.

Staying in Sunspear is not an option. After the scheme that Alliandra pulled on them, there's no one trustworthy in Dorne and he's not stupid to risk getting Maegor poisoned again and killed under the pretext of receiving medicine and care. 

The Stepstones are the closest, but even if the Seasnake's maesters are skilled, there's isn't a lot they can do with the few rations left and even less medicine.

The second closest option is King's Landing. That plan too falls through as Aemond can't risk suddenly bringing Maegor in such a vulnerable state. He barely got away with flying to the Stepstones in the first place, after much nagging from his mother and grandfather. It will raise up too much suspicion if he suddenly shows up with his nephew like this and it will surely cause an even bigger rift between their families as he's certain both Daemon and Rhaenyra would misinterpret and accuse him of poisoning the younger Prince instead.

So Aemond chooses the third option, the safest bet. For Maegor at least.

Dragonstone.

────────────────────────

Translations:

Ñuha jorrāelagon, dombo ēdrugon = My love, wake up

Qybor = Uncle

Ao gīmigon kesan, ñuha dārilaros = You know I will, my Prince

Ȳdra daor ȳdragon, vīlībagon. Nyke kostagon daor ojughagon ao = Don't speak, fight. I can't lose you

Ziry gōntan bisa = She did this

Mazverdagon zirȳ hīghagon = Make them scream

[lemonhemlock]

very random thought I had while doing some world building for an oc 💭

What if the greens decided to marry Helaena to Qyle Martell.

In canon Viserys did consider marrying Rhaenyra to Qyle's father Prince Qoren Martell but that never happened. I'm thinking Alicent and Otto go hey we can marry Hel to a Martell, and since Qyle isn't the eldest child it means he won't need necessary to be in Dorne could stay in King's Landing as an ambassador of sorts to nurture relationships with Dorne. This way the greens can have Aegon marry a lady from a great house for more allies.

Also just thinking it'd be cute for Qyle to give Hel Dornish scorpions and spiders as gifts to add to her bug collection 🥰

Hi there!

You know, the honest thing with these kinds of tweaks in the canon is not that they wouldn't or couldn't possibly work, it's just that perhaps they wouldn't be the absolute best strategic decision IMO. But, then again, it's always about balancing out the pros and the cons and, at the end of the day, you can and should focus in your story on whatever themes or elements you find interesting or important.

Personally, if you ask me, I do feel like Aegon and Helaena make a lot of sense. Just by relying on simple statistics, it would be more likely for two dragonriders to produce more dragonriding children than it would be for a couple consisting of one dragonrider and a non-dragonrider. And the greens really do need to prevent falling behind in the dragon arms race, so to speak. Not to mention the benefits in terms of Targaryen legitimacy and PR. So, whenever I'm asked about this - I just feel that it's too important an issue to compromise on. (I have a ton of posts about this in my backlog, so I'll leave it at that.)

Not that I think that forging a marriage alliance with Dorne is a bad idea at all, but perhaps in this case it would have been better had Aemond or Daeron been betrothed to Aliandra or Coryanne Martell.

But, god knows GRRM isn't the most consistent either, otherwise we wouldn't have so many plot points that don't make sense (take the marriages planned for Daella or Viserra, for example). And, honestly, your proposals are more reasonable and logical than those, so, equally, I don't think it's fair either to hold fanfic authors to a more scrupulous level of scrutiny than we hold the author himself. So, basically, I think the idea is sensible and plausible enough to work out if you intend to follow through with it. Have fun! 🍋

[alexissara]

How I'd Make FEH's Seasonal Banners Not Suck

Gacha is evil, it's bad, you shouldn't play it but as a girl with a big of a gambling addiction but see's no value in PNGs it's an outlet for me so I enjoy a few Gacha games for their fix, one of which being FEH. Seasonal banners are the worst banners of every month because their not sparkable without paying the monthly fee they want players to pay. Still imagining a better world where they had non premium spark I want to go over each months theme and if I'd keep it the same or if I'd replace the theme and with what.

January - New Years It's a solid banner theme of holiday banners it's one of two I'd keep. Most people use a calendar that means January is the start of a new year so a banner themed around celebrating it makes sense.

January 2 - Dessert

While the Dessert theme does have an eventual expiration date Fire Emblem does have a nice breath of Dessert cultures throughout the series that I do think is interesting to get a bit more insight into. Eventually this will have to pivot to some other type of cultural background but I do think there is smooth ways to transition into cultures although perhaps they will intersect with the Culture/Tribal banners that happen later in the year. If they really ran out of special cultures I do think they could pivot this to even go modern and explore real world cultures that inspired the characters for more modern designs which could be a fun and exciting ways to engage players.

February - Vday While I enjoy the dead dads theme of The Day Of Devotion banner being little families connecting I do think with FEHs dual heroes that we could do an actually romantic set of banners where it has ships on dates in cute outfits with an all dual hero banner. I think this theme could or could not be game locked but I think the most fun thing is to have a thematic tie between the ships and have it not be game locked so instead be like tragic love, Eternal Love, Childhood Friends To Lovers Rivals To Lovers kinda deals where it explores a different set of dynamics and how they manifested in the series. I'd start with a Childhood Friends To Lovers theme with Alm and Celica, Florina and Lyn, Dimitri and Dedude something like that to have a nice well flavored banner.

March - Replace Easter with Beast AU

This is probably my biggest want for Fire Emblem Heroes, the Easter Theme is not good. What could be amazing though and fix one of FEHs biggest problems is a banner that makes units into Beast Units. FEH has to make a good chunk of it's OCs beasts just so it can put a new stream of beast units into the game and has to use fairly niche characters to fill seasonal rosters all to stay canon complient but I say fuck canon, it's fun to do an AU and it would let popular characters be reimagined. In particular they could easily debut this to a best selling banner of Three Houses AUs. Flying Beast Black Eagle Edelgard, Cavalier Beast Golden Deer Claude, Armor Beast Blue Lion Dimitri, and Infantry Beast Ashen Wolf Yuri. Bam, perfect, that's a top selling banner. You pair Yuri with M Byleth since he is the Ashen demon or Naliah for a canon wolf unit. You make the tempest trail unit Fbyleth as either like a literal Ashen Demon or a dragon.

April - Replace Kids with Futures

It will never set well with me on every single level the kids banner theme. I hate having the kids end up being stronger then the other versions of the character. I hate having kid designs in general cuz it feels weird to use babies to fight in these wars. It's a weird theme that should go. So instead I propose a much better theme of Futures where we see the characters older from their end cards in the game. This is a massive staple of Fire Emblem having characters have some nice little future and why can't we see this. The age range can vary seeing fresh faced adults of the younger characters like a Donel or a Amelia or like proper older versions of some of the more standard ages Fire Emblem lords as they enter their MILF/DILF eras. People would love to see a proper older version of characters they love, especially it could be cute for older titles where you maybe it could be like aged by the amount of years of the game and kinda a growing up with the character kinda deal. Or it could just be a thirsty Mommy Sorry kinda vibe, either way works for me.

May - Replace Brides With cooking banner

Getting ready for the summer rather then a creepy bridal theme we could have a cook out, since Fates cooking has been a staple of Fire Emblem. I think themes like Tea Time could also move to this slot but each year could have a different kind of cooking vibe from like a summer cook out to a master chief vibe to like a cozy married life cooking banner with each capturing a new vibe while not being just the same boring white dress on woman theme.

June - Keep Summer 1

It's fine, I don't care for the fan service but people enjoy it, keep one month of summer banners, it clearly makes money, someone gets excited about it, a lot of people do but it could also be they bring out a lot of fan favorite units and strong pairings.

July - Replace Summer 2

I will give FEH one month of swim suits but one month is all I will give. Swim suits are not inspired, they aren't particularly interesting and we don't need two months of it. The theme that could replace it I think is space for something really fun like a cosplay theme with other Nintendo characters or a modern fashion theme that could be summery but not like just a swim suit. Something out there and exciting and can be a real talking point of the year. Personally I am found of the cosplay/crossover slot existing here.

August - Make Explicitly A Rare Class Theme

This slot might seem random but to me the clear pattern is it's about highlighting a rare class in the series be in rare as if you get 1 per game or rare as in was only in a few games. We have plenty of Fates Birthrights classes but even outside of that we have classes like Summoner that have only ever appeared once or Bandit that have only been playable once that could be a ton of fun to see characters dressed up as and could lead to really fun designs.

September - Keep Culture

The culture/tribal banners that show up in September are fantastic, actually using the lore of Fire Emblem. We have tons of cultures to go through that have shown up in the Fire Emblem series with countries like Sacae, Almyra, Brigid, all briming with a ton of fun potential to bring into banners and have popular characters be there to carry the flag for their country while other characters dive deep into the cultures.

October - Keep Halloween

Halloween is fun, it's fun, it never is samey because Halloween is what you make it, they could mix it up and have FE characters cosplaying Nintendo characters even if they start deciding they wanted to move off spooky stuff but honestly the spooky stuff is all cheesy fun and the banners are not creepy at all so I think they are just good fun.

November - Widen Ninja to be other Japanese inspired classes

I love Ninja Banners, who doesn't they just have good units from popular games and good designs but I do think expanding Ninja to include Samurai and other Hosido classes could widen the general appeal of the units and help them not stagnate but also I like Ninjas so like I feel like it should expand but not as strongly as the others I wanted to change.

December - Replace Xmas With Snowy Cultures

I am Christmas's greatest hater so of course I want this to change but I also think it's just so boring as a theme everyone wearing the same kind of outfit and colors every single year it just isn't fun and I would much rather see an expansion to the worlds cultures like with other cultural banners and a shift to Snowy cultures like Flora's home culture and Florinas.

[prpfs]

🕊 hi everyone! 23f, experienced advanced literate - novella, and desperately craving a roleplay based in a medieval setting—taking inspo from both real history and series! think the plantagenets and the wars of the roses, shows such as house of the dragon, the white queen, and the white princess, you get the gist!! i’m dying to explore themes of political intrigue, twists and turns, betrayal, scheming lords, clergymen that pretend to be god-fearing but whisper treacherous plots in confessionals, turmoil and war, shifting power. nothing is certain, no one is safe…

perhaps an arranged marriage between two opposing houses, both that vie for the throne and bear some kind of claim (legitimate or not👀). give me actual enemies to lovers—the murderous hatred, the tension, the conflict and angst!! im also open to other ideas for our main muses.

mxf pairing preferred, in which i write f. open to both irl and art for fc’s.

please be enthusiastic and contribute to the plot , i have lots of ideas for this but i don’t want to be the only one putting effort. let’s build it together! i just wanna gush about our oc’s and the story itself. bring me the headcanons, the worldbuilding, tiktoks, tropes, pinterest boards, playlists—you name it. 

if i message you, please don't just say 'yes im interested'; tell me a little about yourself as a writer, ideas you might have / what kind of muse you were envisioning / etc., otherwise i won’t respond. i’m looking for descriptive, lengthy writers that don’t shy away from detail—so if you’re semi-lit to lit, don’t interact! 

dead dove and dark themes are all heavily welcomed and encouraged!

like if you’re interested and I’ll message you! 🫶

like if you're interested and op will reach out

[ceruleancattail]

Part of me thinks Al would have some kind of control-taking deck from Yugioh, but dats just me. I send the any of my ocs for whichever one inspires ya

(These are totally just my own opinion! Pls no mad I’m just a little guy

The Cards are from Bushiroad’s Cardfight Vanguard! Artist credit for each card lies at the bottom right of said card🫶)

Al would have a Nubatama deck!

In the lore, they are one of the Dragon Empire's espionage corps, with a focus on gathering intelligence.

My reasoning for this is that Albert seems like the kind of guy who’s a bit more calculating with his cards! It comes from hanging out making out with Azul and Jade perhaps- He has to tangle with the best on a daily basis, so he has the skills to go toe to toe with them🫶

This clan's playstyle revolves around the themes of "stealth and sabotage".

The clan focuses on reducing the opponent's resources, either directly by forcing them to discard, or indirectly by binding cards so they cannot be used.

Some of the cards in that clan:

A very rogue, Assassin kind of vibe? I have no idea why, Al just fits it in my mind.

My wild take on Al: he shuffles the cards so fast and briskly that it’s honestly impressive in its on right. Man does it with gloves on gloves off and never bends or drops a single card.

Respect🫡

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 18: hand of the king

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

He came to love and value the time he spent on Balerion’s back. It was otherworldly, a place where he felt free to think and feel with no one around to see or hear him, and plot and scheme against him. He’d make more time to fly, once all the work was done. He landed on an empty spot, big enough to fit the dread comfortably, and patted the great beast on the side in gratitude. His giant red eye gleamed, as if to show appreciation for the affectionate moment. Rowan would spoil him in affection. Once she got over any fear of the beast, she would love him, Maegor was sure of it. It pained him to think about the potential what ifs, but they plagued him. Had they been wed, had he been able to show her the world from atop the clouds, he would be doing little else. But he could not distract himself with that now, he’d keep the thoughts for the nights in his chambers. 

He could not help but let a smug smirk grace his face as he walked through the castle, seeing the looks on the people’s faces. Their eyes held awe, admiration even, but the ones that satisfied him the most were the petty lords who looked up at him with fear. Little scheming men, who thought they could perhaps weasel their way into the King’s council and inner circle, now that Aegon the Dragon was dead and rebellions broke. He always found Aenys weak, he made no secret of it, but the fact that everyone saw it was what was making their family and house such a target of these lords. They were looking for a weak spot to break in, to destroy them from the inside. But he would allow no such thing, not when his mother had spent her life to conquer this land and unite the kingdoms. He’d make a point to everyone that while Aegon the conqueror was dead, Maegor was a far bigger threat and a force to be reckoned with. He would show them he was better. 

He found his half-brother in his solar, dressed in his overly decorated tunic and robes, the ornate golden crown resting on his head. The stress seemed to have aged him a tiny bit, but that was perhaps blamed on little sleep. He was always quite fragile. Upon seeing him, Aenys lit up from his pensive slouch, face suddenly beaming. He quickly closed the distance between them, his lilac robes flowing behind him, as he closed him into an embrace. 

“Brother! I am so happy to see you back safely! You’ve done so well, I am impressed at how quickly you’ve restored things!” Aenys smiled, arms still around him. 

Maegor felt stiff and awkward, hating the physical contact, seeing it almost as beneath him. He hesitated for a few moments, but then patted him on the back, signalling that the embrace was to now cease. When he pulled away, he saw a certain sadness in the King’s eyes, despite his smile. He was only gone a week, but something had occurred.

“What is it? What has happened?” he asked, straight to the point, making the man in front of him flinch slightly.

“Alyn Stokeworth is dead. He was murdered when I sent him to Harrenhall.” Aenys admitted.

“Why in the world would you send him to Harrenhall? You were present when we were making the plans with my mother, and none involved him going on his own. I was meant to lead the charge there.” Maegor protested, annoyed at Aenys for doing anything against his mother’s wishes. She knew best, why the hell did he not listen?

“I was not intending to go against my aunt’s wisdom, brother, but Lord Alyn had insisted that he could prevent any spilled blood if he went and negotiated with the Red Harren, so I let him.” he explained, regret in his voice.

“You allowed your hand to go and negotiate with traitors? Why in the seven hells would you do that? Bloodshed is inevitable when you rule, traitors must be shown no mercy and put on display, should anyone get any more ideas. Do you think our father conquered this land by asking nicely?” he began to let the anger show in his voice.

“Father made it very clear to me the importance of diplomacy and fairness. Ever since he began preparing me to take over. What kind of King doesn’t at least hear his people out?” Aenys protested, defending his decision.

“Those people are traitors to the crown. They call us abominations because they fear our power and our dragons, they are not on our side, do you not understand? Treason such like this must be dealt with as soon as possible. You are the second King after father, you cannot allow the realm to fall apart a few moons after his death, that’s a pathetic display.” he sneered. “What did diplomacy get you? Humiliation and the death of your hand.”

Aenys nervously played with one of the many rings on his fingers. Gods, just how many rings did a person need? Everything about the man in front of him was too much and yet not enough at the same time. From the stupid ornate gold and bejewelled crown he had made, to the overly decorated tunics he chose and then the long impractical flowy robes he’d wear, he found his half-brother a caricature of a wealthy man.

“You speak no lies, brother.” Aenys finally spoke, after taking a moment to gather himself. “I’ve lost a valuable person in my council because of a bad decision.” he sighed.

Maegor wanted to laugh and ask how valuable this Lord truly was, if the first advice he had for the King had failed so miserably that it cost him his life, but he bit his tongue. This was not the time for any jests. His mother would scold him if he made the King cry.

“You’ll find another. Hopefully someone more competent.” he said, an attempt at sympathy.

“I have found someone, actually. Maegor, I’d like for you to be my hand.” he stated, the smile returning on his face. He grabbed one of Maegor’s hands with both of his. “What do you say?”

To say that Maegor was stunned would be an understatement. He had spent all his years resenting his half-brother, bitterly picking apart all his shortcomings that were being rewarded with a crown, the crown he so desperately saw as his own and now here he was, smiling despite feeling as pathetic as he was, offering him the second most powerful position in Westeros. He felt… happy, in a way. Perhaps his brother saw in him all he had lacked and understood that he was needed to keep the realm going. But any happiness he might have felt was immediately replaced by suspicion. 

Why? Surely his council had advised him against it. They took advantage of his indecisive and weak demeanour for their own best interests, surely they would not want Maegor getting in the way of that. Aenys was eager to please his council most of all, as they had all served their father, therefore he felt like he had to, in a way, prove himself to them. He did not go against them for fear of being disliked. Then there was also Alyssa, his Queen, who was also indecisive and fickle, desperate to be loved by all. She never liked Maegor, surely she would be feverishly against this decision. Would Aenys truly do such a thing that would displease them all? No, surely, there must be something else.

“Why?” he asked plainly, not bothering with any formality. “Surely both your advisors and your Queen have urged you against such a move, so why are you making it?” he asked, looking at the shorter man sternly, as if to look for any clues in his demeanour that would give him any answer he was too afraid to speak. Aenys seemed to hesitate.

“Because you’re my brother. You’ve not only proven to me, to everyone, that you are most capable of handling the situations that arose. I’ve never been a fighter, the whole realm knows, I’ll need someone who is by my side.” Aenys explained. He sighed, the words almost leaving him for a second. “When I told you I wanted us to rule together, I meant it wholeheartedly. It was not an empty promise. We are brothers, you and I, I meant it when I said I wish to mend the bond between us.” 

An olive branch. This is what it was. Perhaps out of guilt, or desperation to not fail their father’s ghost. Father. He was the one link that connected the two men. Despite both being his sons, Maegor was the only one who looked like him, and if he were to believe all he had heard, he was also the only one who took after him in strength and skill. Aenys took entirely after his mother, feeble, easily distracted, vain. That was all he could remember from his late aunt. Perhaps that’s why their father adored his firstborn so much. He saw his Rhaenys in their useless son, so much so that he convinced himself he’d make a good King. Oh, father, if only you could see your precious boy now. Shaking in his boots beneath the weight of the crown you had made just for him. 

But it wasn’t the crown that was on Aenys’ head that Maegor craved, no. It was the ruby encrusted Valyrian steel crown his father wore that he wanted. He would be stupid not to accept what he was offered. All in due time.

“Very well. I swear to you that I shall serve you loyally, your grace.” he nodded. 

It still felt strange to address him as anything above himself. Aenys was not someone who inspired any respect in his eyes- but then again who did? Other than his own mother, whom he held to the highest pedestal, there was no other he held respect for when it came to royalty. Not even his own father, not entirely, only when he completely removed the idea that he was ever his father could Maegor see him as a respectable strategist, ruler and warrior. And then of course, Rowan, who had his heart entire. He couldn’t compare her to anyone, for no one could ever compare. Had he respected her any less, he would’ve made sure they were caught in a very compromising position quite publicly, then they could marry. But then she’d face retributions for being an easy woman or someone with loose morals, of which she was neither. He’d never put her in such a position, no, she deserved to be the pinnacle of virtue. In his eyes, that’s what she was.

Aenys gave him an easy smile, relief on his face. He clapped his hands and shuffled with a tiny box in the drawer. He opened it up, revealing a golden pin representative of the position he was about to appoint him. Maegor eyed it carefully, noting all the carved details, before turning his eyes back to the King. Aenys, in turn, took the pin out of the box and approached him, pinning it onto his chest.

“So it’s official.” he grinned. For a moment Aenys turned his eyes toward the pin, his smile falling in confusion, before turning to look at him again. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the other pin on his chest.

Shit. He had completely forgotten that without his armour, Rowan’s pin would be visible. He kept his face as neutral as he could, his lips in a straight tight line, while he pretended to look down, as if he forgot what it even was. 

“It’s for the Warrior’s protection in battle.” he said as plainly as he could. Aenys nodded, the curiosity still not leaving his eyes.

“Oh! Did Ceryse make it for you? How sweet!” he grinned again, eyeing the pin. “And here I was, worried about you two.” he laughed lightly. 

“No, it was my mother who had it made for me.” Maegor was quick to correct him, not being able to think of anyone else that it could be from. Aenys was trying to be close to him, perhaps he’d let him, but this was simply too close. He thought back to their youth, did Aenys remember much of him? Did he ever catch the love struck looks he’d give Rowan? Perhaps he did and thought nothing of it, a mere crush. Did he remember when she gave him her favour in the first tourney he had participated in? If he did, he never mentioned it and Maegor was not going to risk anything by revealing that she was the one who made it for him and placed it onto his heart. He quickly took the pin off, safely tucking it into his pocket, saving it for his drawer later.  

“I thought aunt Visenya wasn’t at all fond of the faith.” Aenys raised a brow, ready to push him more, but hesitated, perhaps because the topic was Visenya.

“She said she enjoyed the sentiment of it all. You can have a deep conversation about her religious beliefs if you so wish.” he answered, raising a brow as well, challenging him to question his statement. 

“Ah- perhaps another day.” he waved his hand, placing it on his shoulder. “I should let you go, I’m sure you must be tired. I’ll let you return to your wife, I shall make the announcement tomorrow. Rest well, brother.” he patted him on the shoulder and sent him on his way.

He sure seemed to be on friendly terms with Ceryse, friendly enough to be worried about them. He saw no reason to protest this, he didn’t hate her but they weren’t friends either. What he felt was resentment. The one thing that would’ve brought him any joy from the marriage his father forced onto him, a child, had yet to appear, despite how much he tried. He knew it was unfair to place it all on her- she also didn’t like him, and for all he knew, a child would bring her joy as well. He couldn’t help how he felt at all, the least he could do was let her do as she pleased, and if that was bringing her family over and keeping company with his half-brother, so be it.

He made his way to his chambers, sending his servants to prepare a bath for him. Aenys was right, he was quite tired. He liked his baths with water that was scalding hot. He felt it was the most relaxing. He sighed in pure relief when he lowered his body into the steaming tub, leaning back and resting his head on the edge. 

Aenys would love to have a goodsister like Rowan. They’d get along, something in him telling him that they’d be close. He thought of this a lot, that idealised fairytale where things went as planned where they lived on Dragonstone, happily married, with their little army of children, before he finally ascended the throne. He didn’t imagine anyone else, just her and their children, sometimes his mother as well, finally calm and relaxed, enjoying her grandchildren. Perhaps Aenys could be there too. Perhaps he’d be much happier as a Prince, with no further obligations or troubles. He’d be free to sing and dance as he wished, maybe he’d enjoy being an uncle far more than Maegor was. 

Aenys always called him brother, unlike Maegor, who always felt the need to add the half before the word, a constant reminder that they were only half connected. The shadow of their father loomed large and Aenys seemed to crumble easily beneath it once he realised how big the boots he had to fill were. He wondered, did he know the side of their father that Maegor got? The one that was barely ever there, the one that gave him scarce crumbles of attention, words of praise he could count on one hand, the one that denied him the one thing he’d ever asked him for. No, why would he? Aenys got everything, just as Rhaenys got everything. Alas, Maegor was his mother’s child when it came to the conqueror, no one of importance. But Aenys, unlike his father and aunt, was making an effort, extending him a huge olive branch. Would it hurt to accept it? Would it feel better to talk to him about everything that brothers talked about, to have a bond?

How would he react if he knew even a snippet of Maegor’s mind? He already cowered before him, Maegor could only imagine how much it would frighten him to know the darkness that lied beneath. But perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he’d try. Perhaps Maegor could try as well. Perhaps it would be nice to have a brother. Yes, Aenys was his brother.

No matter how busy, her father always made time to have breakfast with Rowan. It was her favourite time of day, as she knew he’d eventually leave for six moons and this time she would not be joining him. He was acting a bit strange the past two weeks, but he denied it when she asked, today was no different. 

“So, what are your plans for today?” he asked, taking a bite of the slice of bread in his hand.

“Well, I have to deliver some letters to the maester, but other than that, I’ll just be around the dowager Queen.” she said, taking a sip of her water. “How about you?”

“I’ll be meeting with the builders, we’ll be supplying them with more wood for the construction of the keep.” he hummed. Duncan seemed hesitant for a moment, meeting her eyes, before deciding to at last say what he truly wanted to. “So… the Prince has returned.” he eyed her carefully, to see her reaction to his words.

“He has…” Rowan trailed, confused as to why he was bringing it up. He knew how she felt, better than anyone perhaps, so what was he trying to find out?

“And how do you feel, now that he has returned?” he urged, making her straighten her back in her chair.

“I’m happy that he’s safe. And I’m happy that he’s been chosen as hand of the King.” she said, but her father was unconvinced of her formal response. She sighed. “I still feel the same way, father. I’m sorry, I’m trying, I promise. It’s not like I want to be hurt.”

“No- no, Rowan, I did not mean it like that.” he reached for her hand, food now forgotten. “I wasn’t trying to push you, things like that cannot be pushed. I just know it must be hard to be around him.” he said, his eyes full of sympathy.

“It’s not so terrible.” she shrugged. She hadn’t told him about their meetings in the Queen’s solar, for she felt ashamed to even say it out loud. She knew it was improper, that a huge scandal could break out should anyone suspect anything. She was his mother’s lady in waiting, she had the excuse of being there in the solar, and he could just be looking for his mother and they just happened to bump into each other. But Rowan knew better than that. She knew he had planned those meetings to happen, but she could not bring herself to leave, not when he was the air that kept her from drowning in a sea of worry.

“I’ve noticed a certain Lord has eyes for you.” he finally spoke again. Rowan looked at him with confusion, before realising who he was talking about. 

“Tybolt Lannister?” he nodded. “Father, we’ve exchanged a few words a few times, I highly doubt it’s anything of importance to him.” she protested the statement, finding it now much less humorous than when Lana and Ceryse were teasing her about it.

“Again, I’m not trying to push you to do anything, I’m just trying to say that it’s good for you to think about your possible matches. You never know with these things. How do you feel about him?” he asked with a kind smile on his lips. If she was honest, Rowan wasn’t so sure. Tybolt was kind and very charming, she could not deny that, but beyond that, she wasn’t sure about him. She didn’t know him that well, for all she knew he could be a terrible person, or someone absolutely lovely.

“I don’t know. He seems nice, but other than that, I do not know.” she replied.

“Lannisport is lovely, do you remember when we went? You were quite little the first time, eight? Nine?” her father smiled, causing her to do so as well.

“Yes, it’s a very charming place. I remember it well.” she returned her attention to the plate in front of her, smiling fondly at the memories of her youth and the travels she had joined her father on. Lannisport was one of her favourite places they had been to together. She enjoyed exploring the city, seeing all the goods the merchants had brought from all over the world, and having her father explain to her what each thing was. She missed how carefree she used to feel. Once things had calmed with the rebels, she’d ask for leave from Visenya, for a few moons perhaps, and ask her father to let her join him again. He was her favourite travel companion, from Oldtown, to Highgarden, to even the frosty North.

“He could be a potential match, my love. He’s near your age, quite decent and he could provide you with a very comfortable life. Take your time, get to know him a little more and if he’s to your liking, I’ll make sure he’s a good man who’ll treat you well.” he said softly, studying her face. He frowned when he saw the saddened look on her face. “Take your time, my love, there’s no hurry. I just want you to be happy.”

“I know, father. I’ll talk to him…” she nodded, giving her father a sad smile. He was right, of course, she couldn’t drown in her own sorrow forever. Maegor was married, there was nothing to wait for. She had to think about her future without him, no matter how much it tore her heart to shreds to do so. All she wanted was to fall into Maegor’s arms and hold him and kiss him over and over again, never letting him go. But that was only a fantasy, a childish one she’d better forget if she wanted to ever be happy.

After breakfast, Rowan began her usual routine with Visenya, accompanying her in her meetings, being a scribe for her and it was quite an easy day. They hadn’t talked about Maegor, not anything over the most formal and quick updates. It had been a few days since his return, but she did not see much of him. Perhaps it was for the better. Visenya was in a great mood, her plans for Harrenhal coming to fruition soon. It was a bit eerie how excited she was for violence and punishment, but Rowan chalked it down to distraction from the loss she had faced. 

She was enjoying the fresh air of the gardens as she returned from the ravenry, having delivered the Queen’s letters and messages. All she had left to do was tidy everything up and she was done for the day. Visenya had retired to take a bath, so Rowan was a bit slower to return to the solar, choosing instead to walk the long way there, through the gardens. Before she could get too deep into her thoughts, a newly familiar voice called for her.

“Lady Rowan!”

“Ser Tybolt! You’re back so soon!” Rowan exclaimed. Maegor had returned before his knights, flying on dragonback was a much faster way to travel. She had expected the knights he had chosen to remain in the Vale to ensure that things go back to normal, but she supposed Maegor had other plans. Perhaps he’d need them for Harrenhall too.

“Does it please you, my lady?” he asked, offering her his most charming smile, before placing a kiss on her knuckles. Rowan almost blushed at how forward he was, perhaps she had been quite foolish to not notice it as soon as he first spoke to her.

“Oh, I’m happy to see you back safe and sound my Lord. I’m happy the matter was taken care of so swiftly.” she returned his smile. It was true, she was happy to see that no one was injured upon their return.

“Yes, the Prince was… quite eager to deliver the punishments. We saw no battle, yet I think that disappointed him, for what he had us do was… dire.” Tybolt’s expression was an uneasy one, a little shaken perhaps. He shook his head and returned to his charming, easy smile. “But I should not mention such vile things in the presence of such a lovely lady.”

“You flatter me, my lord…”

“I only speak the truth, my lady.”

“But what good would it do me if I were to ignore what was happening around the land? In such times, wouldn’t it be best to always know the happenings of the realm?” she gently asked, almost bothered that he’d begin his sentence and then change the subject. “You needn’t hold your tongue around me, lord Tybolt.”

“I agree with you wholeheartedly, lady Rowan. I’m not insinuating that because you’re a woman you cannot hear it, it’s just that I don’t think any civilised person should. It’s just, the Prince's appetites were…” he trailed.

“They're what?” she asked, feeling her breath get caught in her throat. 

“Terribly cruel. The subject would cause upset should we talk about them plainly.” Tybolt said, troubled. It felt wrong to speak about Maegor with someone else, someone who could be a potential match for her, but the curiosity was eating at her. It was strange to see him from the eyes of others, specifically Tybolt. His knights sang him praises, but the Lannister in front of her was hesitant to do so. What had Maegor done to earn such a reaction?

“I… I see. Still, I’m glad everyone is back safely. There are more battles to go and I can only pray they end just as safely as this one did.” she offered him another smile. 

Tybolt returned it, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it quickly once he realised someone was coming closer, someone who’s heavy boots she had memorised for years, someone whose pacing she knew by heart. The colour drained from his face when the young lion realised who was behind him. Maegor was frowning, his eyes finding hers, making her heart flutter.

“That is true, my lady, but we cannot shy away from battle, can we?” he asked, his deep voice sending shivers up her spine. Rowan was startled for a moment, afraid she had somehow offended him by saying that, as if to say she didn’t think he could handle battle.

“My Prince, of course not! I did not mean to insinuate any lack-”

“I understand your sentiments, they are fair and kind. There was no offence to be taken.” his eyes softened when he gazed into hers, telling her he knew, he always knew what she meant. But his gaze hardened when he turned to Tybolt, who Rowan forgot was there. “Though I hear some complaints about my methods, Ser Tybald?” he questioned.

“M-my Prince! I- I did not mean any offence!” Tybolt tried his best to not stutter, not even bothering to correct his name for fear that he would upset the Prince even more.

“Do not stutter like a fool, boy, speak clearly. Since you feel so comfortable criticising my methods to a lady, why did you not do so back in the Vale? Was it because you nearly fainted when it was your turn to obey a simple order? Are you only good for jousting at tourneys?” his voice dripped of venom, his frown deepening when the young Lannister could not find any words to respond. He was too stunned to speak. Maegor turned his attention back to Rowan, who was looking at him with wide eyes. “My mother has called for you. Do not allow this poor excuse of a knight to distract you from your duties. Come, I need to speak to her as well.” 

Before Rowan could even open her mouth, Maegor began walking away and she followed him without even thinking. She gave Tybolt an apologetic expression, before turning to catch up with his wide strides. The two did not speak at all, walking in complete, uncomfortable silence instead. She knew he was lying, Visenya wished to retire for the rest of the day to relax, there was nothing else she could want from her. But she felt nervous seeing how Maegor was acting. She had so much to ask of him.

“Has he really displeased you so?” she asked as soon as they were alone in the solar, away from prying eyes. Rowan finally got to take a good look at him. He was dressed so impeccably, standing tall like he always did, looking every inch of royalty. 

“Most certainly, he has. What good is a knight that cannot complete a simple order? He’s good for nothing, if all I’ve seen of him doesn’t change in Harrenhal.” Maegor responded, looking quite annoyed that she’d mention him at all.

“What he said before… what exactly was their punishment that made him almost faint?” she asked, nervously playing with a ring she was wearing.

“I denied the traitors a quick death. They did not deserve the mercy of the sword, nor their armour, so I had them stripped down and hanged. The realm needs to see that betrayal to the crown will leave them both killed and humiliated.” he removed his gloves, and poured two glasses of water, giving one to Rowan first before taking a sip. “I did not wish for you to hear, I must confess. Your heart has always been kind and delicate, I do not wish to burden it, if I can help it.” he sat down, his voice softer and his eyes on her face. Her brows were furrowed, while she thought, before taking a seat next to him.

“I do not wish to be sheltered from reality. I thought you already knew that.” Rowan frowned, looking down at her glass. Was what he did cruel? He was certainly right, it did send a strong message, one she wasn’t sure Aenys would carry out without Maegor. But was it necessary? She couldn’t pretend to completely understand matters of battle and war, all she knew came from books and stories Visenya would sometimes share. She trusted Maegor, she trusted him with all her heart, she could trust him in this as well.

“I know. But I’ve missed you, and all I’ve been occupied with lately has been battle, I did not wish to speak about it any more.” he reached out and gently took her hand in his, making her gasp ever so softly. Rowan found she couldn’t look at him directly, focusing instead on his warm hands. She gave a small smile when she saw he still wore the ring she had gifted him when they were young, she lightly traced it with her free hand, earning a soft sigh from him. “Has he been bothering you? Do you want me to send him away? Just say the word and he’s gone.” he asked, his voice now serious. She shook her head.

“Tybolt isn’t bothering me. He’s kind and good company.” she said, making Maegor frown at the mention of his name.

“Good company.” he scoffed, sarcastically repeating her words to her. “Do his exaggerations entertain you? I could find you a court fool to make you laugh, if you so wish.” he almost pouted.

“A court fool? Maegor, what is with you and him?” she asked, worried that the Prince before her had it out for Tybolt, who in her eyes was innocent.

“It’s not- I’m not… I bet your father wouldn’t want that coward near his daughter.” he stumbled, but still held onto her hands tenderly, despite his tone.

“My father? He was actually quite fond of the idea that I’d find a match in Casterly Rock. He told me to spend some time with him, see if I like him.” she said, feeling guilty for bringing it up, knowing that the subject of her marriage was a tense one between them. Maegor froze, his hands now clinging on her own while he processed.

“Duncan said that?” he asked slowly. When Rowan nodded, he bit the inside of his cheek, his frown deepening even more. “He’s eager to marry you off to the highest bidder?” he asked, his voice now angry, but still hushed. Rowan felt anger rise inside her at his question- her father would never be so crass. She pulled her hands away from his, placing them on her lap.

“You know my father better than that! Of course he’d never do such a thing. We cannot pretend that I won’t eventually marry, Maegor. He simply wants me to find a husband that will keep me happy. He sensed that Tybolt could be interested and simply asked me to get to know him and see if he could be that person. He’d never push for me to do it, you know this.” she frowned, looking into his eyes. He was still angry, however.

“So you’re more than fine with that pathetic excuse of a man parading himself in front of you? You’d even reward him with your time and potentially your hand?” he protested, reaching back for her hands. “He’s worth nothing, he can offer you nothing. How is that boy going to protect you? He’s useless, all show. He’ll do nothing for you, don’t-” he breathed. “Don’t marry him. Please don’t marry him.” he begged, his voice quiet like a whisper. 

Rowan felt her heart break again and again, returning the grip that Maegor had on her hands. She hated this, she hated that they were in this situation to begin with, hated that she’d eventually part with him forever, that she’d have someone else by her side, someone who would never live up to Maegor’s shadow. Just the thought made tears well up in her eyes.

“I don’t wish to marry anyone else, but I cannot- I cannot stay here forever…” she whispered, getting the courage to meet his intense, pleading eyes. Maegor seemed to panic in that moment, reaching out to cup her face softly.

“Forgive me- Please don’t cry. I don’t blame you, I never would.” he pleaded softly, wiping away the few tears that managed to escape her. She revelled in his warmth, at their closeness, she gently placed her hand on his. They stayed like that in a comfortable silence, where Rowan could only hear their breaths and her own heart beating. 

“I didn’t even congratulate you…” she broke the silence after a while, gently leaning into his hands that were still holding her. Maegor smiled, glancing at his new pin. “How do you feel?” she asked, leading his hands back to the table. 

“Strange.” he admitted. “Good, but strange. I’m pretty sure it’s a kind of olive branch he’s extending me. Maybe he feels guilty and wants to have a brother.” he mused, playing with the rings on her hands. 

“And you? Do you want to have a brother?” she asked, studying his face. She noticed how pensive he looked, letting himself be vulnerable away from everyone else. “I think you two could be close. It’ll be nice to make up for lost time, don’t you think?” she asked again.

“I wouldn’t change anything about how I grew up. I got to have you, I wouldn’t trade that for any potential brother. But perhaps… it would be nice.” he admitted, looking down. A small laugh escaped his lips. “I know his council and Alyssa will give him hell for naming me his hand.” he smirked. 

Gods, he looked so handsome when he smirked. At that moment Rowan felt ashamed. Ashamed at the unholy thoughts that were in her mind. All she could focus on were his hands- they were huge. And warm, and strong. In his arms, she felt so safe and protected, having him be so protective of her made her feel fuzzy. She wondered how they’d feel roaming all over her- Gods be good, what was she thinking? He raised a brow after he noticed her blushing cheeks, shooting her a smile. Did he not know what he did to her?

“He knew that, and still made his choice.” she smiled. Maegor nodded and traced over the light scarring on her fingertips.

“You’ve been nervous.” he stated, his smile faltering.

“...I was worried about you.” she confessed. “I always do.” Maegor went to speak, but Rowan interrupted him by getting up. “The hour grows late, it’s almost time for supper. I still have to tidy up the solar.” 

“Are you kicking me out?” he laughed. “Very well then. I shall see you soon.” he said, getting up as well, making sure to push his chair back in, so that he wouldn’t make a mess for her. He didn’t leave right away, lingering next to her. He took her hand once more, placing a kiss on the back of it, making her heart stop. “I didn’t thank you for your pin. It helped prevent a battle, you know?” he teased gently. Rowan couldn’t stop her grin.

“Oh, come on.” she groaned.

“I’ll be leaving for Harrenhal next week, would you make me another one?” he asked, smiling. He truly liked it so much? How could she deny him then?

“Of course.”

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[findroleplay]

🕊 hi everyone! 23f, experienced advanced literate - novella, and desperately craving a roleplay based in a medieval setting—taking inspo from both real history and series! think the plantagenets and the wars of the roses, shows such as house of the dragon, the white queen, and the white princess, you get the gist!! i’m dying to explore themes of political intrigue, twists and turns, betrayal, scheming lords, clergymen that pretend to be god-fearing but whisper treacherous plots in confessionals, turmoil and war, shifting power. nothing is certain, no one is safe…

perhaps an arranged marriage between two opposing houses, both that vie for the throne and bear some kind of claim (legitimate or not👀). give me actual enemies to lovers—the murderous hatred, the tension, the conflict and angst!! im also open to other ideas for our main muses.

mxf pairing preferred, in which i write f. open to both irl and art for fc’s.

please be enthusiastic and contribute to the plot , i have lots of ideas for this but i don’t want to be the only one putting effort. let’s build it together! i just wanna gush about our oc’s and the story itself. bring me the headcanons, the worldbuilding, tiktoks, tropes, pinterest boards, playlists—you name it. 

if i message you, please don't just say 'yes im interested'; tell me a little about yourself as a writer, ideas you might have / what kind of muse you were envisioning / etc., otherwise i won’t respond. i’m looking for descriptive, lengthy writers that don’t shy away from detail—so if you’re semi-lit to lit, don’t interact! 

dead dove and dark themes are all heavily welcomed and encouraged!

like if you’re interested and I’ll message you! 🫶

-

[findyourrp]

🕊 hi everyone! 23f, experienced advanced literate - novella, and desperately craving a roleplay based in a medieval setting—taking inspo from both real history and series! think the plantagenets and the wars of the roses, shows such as house of the dragon, the white queen, and the white princess, you get the gist!! i’m dying to explore themes of political intrigue, twists and turns, betrayal, scheming lords, clergymen that pretend to be god-fearing but whisper treacherous plots in confessionals, turmoil and war, shifting power. nothing is certain, no one is safe…

perhaps an arranged marriage between two opposing houses, both that vie for the throne and bear some kind of claim (legitimate or not👀). give me actual enemies to lovers—the murderous hatred, the tension, the conflict and angst!! im also open to other ideas for our main muses.

mxf pairing preferred, in which i write f. open to both irl and art for fc’s.

please be enthusiastic and contribute to the plot , i have lots of ideas for this but i don’t want to be the only one putting effort. let’s build it together! i just wanna gush about our oc’s and the story itself. bring me the headcanons, the worldbuilding, tiktoks, tropes, pinterest boards, playlists—you name it. 

if i message you, please don't just say 'yes im interested'; tell me a little about yourself as a writer, ideas you might have / what kind of muse you were envisioning / etc., otherwise i won’t respond. i’m looking for descriptive, lengthy writers that don’t shy away from detail—so if you’re semi-lit to lit, don’t interact! 

dead dove and dark themes are all heavily welcomed and encouraged!

like if you’re interested and I’ll message you! 🫶

.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Deliciously dark! Aemond x oc (Snow falls, chapter 6: The fox and the dragon

CONCEPT: You are Willa Wyldewoods, daughter of the second biggest house in the North. After your father refused to bend the knee and to marry you to Aemond, Aemond killed your family himself and took your home and you for himself. You escaped yesterday and he did not like that all. So he's punishing you.

WARNINGS; NONCON dubcon Punishment, not feeding someone, smut, throat fucking, fucking, begging, himulation, dark!aemond, dom/sub themes and spankings as well as other dark themes. Not so feministic Aemond either. Mention of dead family members, mentions of a*ss f*cking oral sex, - Aemond is just messed up and so mc for secretly liking all the pain he gives her. They both need therapy, hope this helps.

TAGLIST IS OPEN. (it always is, i just forget to mention i do them sometimes lol)

Sign up if you dare though do mind the triggers/warnings.

You sit in the bedroom, after dinner. Aemond had his share of good food and your tummy rumbles. You know he isn't done with you yet. He will likely have you to assure you are tamed.

He touches your chin gently. You already silently cry. 'Now, now. I am gentle, am I not? I thought you liked it gentle.' He says mockingly. You swallow and don't even respond.

He chuckles. 'Take off my clothes for me.' He says before dropping himself in the chair by the fireplace.

You take off his coat for him, feeling your cheeks burn with shame. You hate that you let him decide everything. But it's better than punishment. You are a coward. 'Or I'll whip you.' He adds when you slow down.

Your body freezes and you gawk at him in shock your mouth hanging open. He gets up from the chair and faces you. You cower without intent. 'You think I'm not serious?' He asks. You aren't sure. He tattooed you. He spanked you. What is stopping him from whipping you? You still think he maybe prefers doing the punishment himself.

You also think but would never allow yourself to say: That you didn't deserve it. He scoffs. 'You think you don't deserve it perhaps? Well, you did. You ran away and made me look like a fool. I don't appreciate it from my family, I don't appreciate it from my enemies and I especially don't appreciate it from my common cock sucking whore!' He shouts at you and you don't like it. You hate it even more than his insults. You are scared that he'll become aggressive.

You burst into tears. 'I'm so sorry!' You quickly blurt it out. You try to convince him and yourself. If he doesn't believe it'll just make things worse.

He doesn't believe you. 'No, you're not. I just know you'll do it again, you disgusting rat. Scurry off the second I turn my back on you.' He groans and grabs your hands.

He drags you closer and slaps your behind painfully. He smiles when you grunt in pain. He leans in and touches your dark hair. 'I gave you an order, didn't I? Get to it.' You already took off his coat for him, so you get to work on his vest next. It's a complicated design with multiple silver pins. You quickly shove the fabric out of the pin and open his vest that way, slowly exposing more of his linen shirt that's underneath it.

You softly feel the abs beyond it and feel every curve of his body. Your mind goes to the wrong places and you are distracted. 'Faster.' He groans.

You get back to undressing him, ripping his vest off him. 'Please...' You beg when he grabs you by your hair. 'I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I ran. I shouldn't have. Please don't hurt me. I'm so scared. Please.'

He drags you to the bed. He rolls you on your belly and pins you down. You don't feel him spread your legs and sigh in relief. You are wet nonetheless. You don't want to be.

'You are difficult today.' He says disapprovingly. You hear him undo his pants himself. You adjust to the bed and turn off your thoughts. 'Cunt bare, I want to fuck you.' He groans. You obey.

You look at your husband, still wearing pants. You are confused. But then you see it. His belt is in one of his hands. You gulp and shake your head scared and scurry away. He grins and grabs your legs dragging you back. You know he lied. He wanted you to strip so he could easily hit you.

The moment the cold metal hits your naked body you cry out like a little pig that's being slaughtered. You pull away from him screaming and sobbing. He grins before turning you on your back this time and spreads your legs.

He wants to do dark things. Darker than you imagined. 'I want to make myself clear.' The Cold leather belt is briefly pulled over your exposed lady parts. You whimper in fear. Scared he will whip you there. It'll be more painful.

You are quick to beg for his mercy. You are scared and have endured enough abuse already. 'You are clear, husband. I learned. I will obey now.' You promise shaking in fear. He let his fingers touch you and he pushes them inside you. He pulls in deeply and starts to touch you. You like it very much but you don't know if it's for you to like.

You softly buck your hips against his fingers chasing your pleasure. It's nice to have a distraction. He smiles when you buck and fucks you a little rougher and deeper with his fingers. You softly grunt. 'Argh.'

He removes his fingers. You are confused. You liked it. He whips and you scream when the belt hits your sensitive clit. You cry out and tears burst from your eyes.

'Take it off. Now.' He groans referring to his clothes again. 'Or I will fuck you in your ass with some parts of your dead family members. Take it off Now!' He yells in your ear. You take off his pants for him like his servant. You are once again meeting with his impressive length and just choose to ignore it for now.

You also take off his shoes for him and his socks. You bow your head when you are finished. 'Good girl. Get on your knees for me.' You obey him, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

He enjoys you scared. You assume he wants to have you. You turn your entrance towards him. He takes a few locks of your hair and pulls so that you are facing him again. 'Open wide and let's test that naughty little mouth of yours. You'll suck me off, slut. And you'll do your best or you know what will happen to your cunny and your ass.' You want to cry that you're not a slut but you don't want trouble. You never sucked anyone before.

'M-my family-' you can't finish that sentence.

He chuckles softly. 'No, sweetling. I will fuck you myself. I will spread you out on the desk like a meal and I will feast upon you until I have no seed left and am just fucking my balls sore on your body.' It sounds painful. Embarrassing and shameful. It sounds like cruelty and abuse. You don't like the sound of that at all.

'Wha..What if...' You think of a way to get out of the punishment. 'I'm wet.' You confess softly. 'Very wet.'

He just raises a brow. 'I am well aware.' He says carelessly.

You are confused. 'Don't you wish to have me?' You ask.

He sighs annoyed. 'No, little slut. I gave you a task. Obey me and I might let you finish.' Your head is pushed down. You gave a soft nod and crawl closer to him, opening your mouth and taking in the big swollen length. You quickly shove it in your mouth and start sucking sloppily and quickly eager to finish him off so he can get out again.

He grins before slapping your behind. 'I prefer quality over quantity, little slut. Easy and thorough or I will give your pretty face a nice layer of cum.' He threatens. You'd hate that.

You take him out for a brief moment. 'What am I supposed to do? I never did this before.'

'Just suck me, you'll learn best if you just do it.' He groans before shoving himself back in.

You realise it's not for you to like. It's for Aemonds pleasure. He will come because of this. Not you. Once you realise that; it becomes very easy for you. You watch and judge his reactions of gently licking, softly rubbing him with your tongue and even giving little soft pushes.

He enjoys you being gentle and careful. You hear him groan when you softly rub him. You make eye contact and he closes his eyes, tightening his grip on your shoulders. You are surprised. As well as when a soft new strange salt taste fills your mouth.

'Make me come, whore.' He growls with his voice even lower than usual. You try your best to make him come by gentle licking but it's not working. You understand you need to do a new technique. You force your mouth around his length and just try to suck it. Your tongue glides over his head and he shudders in pleasure. 'That's it, little bitch. Make your owner come.' He groans before spanking you. You yelp but the cock blocks most of the sound. You repeat what you did, licking him faster and faster and making eye contact.

Your shoulders are grabbed and you are pushed into his body. He rolls his hips eagerly against your mouth and fucks it. You are caught off guard but continue sucking. He chuckles. 'O, yes...' You Growl a bit and finally force the cock deeper into your mouth before letting your lips rub his length. He shudders and groans before pulling out. You sigh relieved.

Your chin is grabbed roughly and you see the cock aimed at your face. Before you realise what has happened he injects himself into your face with a grunt. You gawk at him, blushing and wet and now dirty too.

You whimper. He grins before cleaning the corners of your mouth. There is a white substance on his fingertip. You look at it curiously.

'Suck it off.' He says. You take his hand and force his finger down your mouth gently sucking it clean. He chuckles.

'Did I do well?' You ask when you are finished. You want to know if he is pleased. More important: you want relief.

He is back to being his ordinary hating self. 'What do you expect a compliment for every basic command?' You ignore that jab.

You grab his hand. 'You promised me something, remember?' And that he did. He promised you'd come. You already picture yourself, face down on the pillows getting fucked from behind by him when he holds you firmly.

Aemond laughs. 'Oh yes. I'd promised you you'd get to come.' He says, before slowly touching your breasts. They are eager for his touch. Already hard. He notices and smiles.

'Y-Yes.' You stutter blushing and confused.

You are pushed to him and end up on your back. Your legs are parted gently by him and he softly sinks a finger in your hot and wet cunt as he likes to call it. 'Let me feel...'

'Hmm.' He smacks his lips before speaking and stimulates you at the right moment. You buck eagerly and want him to just fuck you. You feel powerless at his mercy with his hand fucking you. His fingers grab and rub you in a good way. It would not be as good as his cock. You had it a few times and you know you'd prefer lying down and getting stuff until you can't walk any day.

You can't believe what you're thinking. This man is a murderer. This man hurt you. And you are so wet for him. 'You've been a naughty wife. I don't like rewarding naughty pets.' He says thoughtfully when you give a little cry of pleasure.

You touch yourself. He slaps your hand and pulls you up. You let out a little yelp when he throws you over his shoulder.

'Where are we going?' You ask scared.

He grins. 'The hallway, I want every servant to hear your cries when I make you come, little slut. I want everyone to know who owns you now.' He says with a chuckle. You feel insulted but he touches you and you are reminded of your desire.

You are pushed on the dirty floor and exhale some dust on accident. You cough. Aemond pushes you onto your knees again and you eagerly await for him to fuck you on the wood in the dirt. He scoffs at you. 'Look at you. So much for the Lady Wyldewoods. Admit you're my whore now and I swear to the gods that I fuck your little cunt until it bleeds.' You don't want to. You really don't want to.

'I...' You can't say it. He grins rubs you up and stimulates you. Touches you gently. Lovingly. He looks at you like you can trust him.

You close your eyes. 'I am your whore.' You softly mutter. Your chin is grabbed and you feel a soft slap in your face as a warning.

He shakes his head clacking his tongue. 'I don't approve of that. Again, name me and louder.' You understand what he wants to hear.

You feel an extra finger enter and you gasp softly. 'I am your whore, Aemond Targaryen.' You say speaking regularly but panting a bit.

He growls giving another slap. 'Much louder.' He growls.

He is in with 3 fingers now. You cry out and buck eagerly. 'I am your whore, Aemond Targaryen!'

He chuckles in pleasure as your cries echo through the hall and are heard by everyone in the castle. 'Exactly. Don't you ever fucking dare to forget it, slut.' You are grabbed and your legs are spread. You feel a soft something touch your cunt. You feel it enter you and you hear the sound of Aemond very close to you.

He is licking you there. Gently sucking your pussy. You let out a gentle groan and touch his hair approvingly. You turn and twist when finding a comfortable position. You just want his tongue to go faster. 'You taste good.' He says when he just takes a quick break.

'Thank you, Husband.' You say politely. You assume he'd go back to sucking you but he is done.

'Now...' He says rubbing his hands.

You chuckle. 'How do we exactly do this?'

You are grabbed and pushed against the glass of the hall. Everyone downstairs can see you. You are thankful there are no visitors. 'I'm going to fuck your little cunt here, and you'll do best to obey and serve me.' You hate it but you'd love to serve him.

You give a soft nod. 'Yes, my Prince.' You say. He chuckles at that and shoves himself up your cunt with his cock. You are impaled and softly pressed against the cold glass. You hear your husband growl and you are hit on your ass again.

He has a hard grip and you don't like it at first. He sinks in deep and your breath causes the window to fog. You eagerly cry for his touch and buck back having sex with him for the very first time. It is your fourth time laying with him but the other times weren't as good as this. You finally understand why everyone enjoys sex so much. It's really really good.

Aemond fucks you rough and hard against the window and you let him, letting yourself get scolded, slapped and dragged by the hair.

It's the best sex you ever had from him. He slaps you across your face but you like it this time. He let his finger in your mouth and you suck it gently. 'Come, study time.' He says a bit hoarse taking you with him to the bedroom.

You are bent on the desk there.. Your legs dangle and are pushed aside. Your eyes land on your husband. You feel a rough shove and cry a little bit. 'I think you'll like being my whore.' He says, when he is busy making himself erect again by rubbing himself with your fingers. You like how sticky they get once there's cum on them. You'd like to taste it and to suck them clean.

'Your cunt wouldn't be so wet if you didn't like the way I handle you.' He continues. You are than fucked and you gasp for air. It hurts much more on the desk but you have far less a say in it than on the bed. You feel trapped and under his control. You like it. You turn off your brain and bow your head submissive and just let him have you when you cry in pleasure or cry out for the gods.

'They won't help you, little slut. You're at my mercy now. You wanted this, remember?' You do. 'I'll fuck you and I decide when I am done. No gods will stop me from having my wife.' You like that he calls you that. He sounds so possessive of you. But also something else....proud.

You yearn for some pressure. 'Please...' You beg. 'Can you perhaps uhm...Hit me?' You whisper.

He seems surprised by that request but comes over very rapid. You quickly add. 'Just my ass. Keep my face pretty.'

'Of course, sweetling. Bend for me.' He says and you obey. He spanks you and you feel the pleasure return. You never knew you liked it but you guess it was always there. Whenever he got a little rough with you, you enjoyed it. Except for when he punched your face and tattooed you against your will.

'You're such a naughty whore.' 'Yes, my Prince.' You agree with him. You'll probably hate yourself tomorrow. But now...it feels good. Nice and right.

'Yes, what?' He asks stopping the spankings just a moment. His hands are still On your ass.

'Yes, I am a naughty whore.' You say, close.

'And?' He asks raising a brow. 'I deserve to have my cunt stuffed.' You cheekily say but loud enough for him to hear. He stops touching you and you think for a moment he has left.

Until you are pushed down over the desk and you end up on your belly. You see his face again as he grabs your legs and forces them around his hips. You are forced Against his body and roughly fucked. You cry out in pleasure.

'Hm.' He groans enjoying himself as well. You are close. You beg him with your eyes. He enters your body and you are hit with brief waves of pleasure that hit like a slap across your face. You roll back on the desk and growl and cry and moan. You enjoy being used by him. Grabbed time after time and used.

He forces you on the desk once more and shoves himself inside you. You moan in approval. You are close. 'I'm going to make you come, but you'll scream my name. That's what I demand for this pleasure.' He says strictly. You give a nod. If he told you he'd take your eye you are sure you'd let him do it at that point.

He starts to move and you feel his body press down on yours. You gently exhale and prepare. A small little pleasure wave hits you. Then another. Another. Another. You cry out a bit and beg him. He grins. 'Just the beginning, I'm going to make you sob.' He promises you before rolling his hips firmly and more aggressive. You are fucked like a whore but you don't mind. He takes out all his aggression and hate on you and you welcome it. You enjoy the pain and the pleasure waves become intenser and you smell yourself and him after some time. You are very close. You feel it. He enters slowly and rolls his hips before fucking you in one hard rough go using his strength to hold you down. Your body erupts and you release an animalistic scream of his name. He grins when you do that and speeds up fucking your recently wetted cunt. He suddenly catches his breath and comes inside you this time. You catch your breath too.

He grabs you from the desk and takes you back to the bed. He puts you on the bed. 'Good girl, but I'm still very mad at you for disobeying me.'

'Is that what it's like every time?' You ask like a stupid little girl. He grins before leaning in.

'If I am pleased, it can be like that every time. And more.' You turn to your side and fall asleep with him close to your body.

[kiasnocturnality]

How do you come up with names for your ocs? They're so cool!

hehehe I'll never get tired of answering this question, I love talking ab naming them <3

ALOIS LEBLANC came from a list of 15th century French boys names and I liked how it means famous warrior bc it suits him. The Leblanc house is a huge name in the night court and he might have suffered great loss but he came back with vengeance and reclaimed the estate and status that his family has lost as its last remaining member - this was a all the talk of the night court for decades when they found that the Leblanc house had not, in fact, been entirely wiped out. Leblanc simply means 'the white' as it relates to the albinism gene in his family - you can read all about the significance of albinism in house Leblanc here.

NASANA is just based on the phonetic sound! It's an entirely made-up name and I liked how the consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel pattern with the s in there gives his name a slithery sound - very fitting for a naga!

TAKESHI was actually chosen by @edenspetals from a list of names that I had (I'd already looked into the meanings though and liked the warrior theme to the name as it suits Takeshi's bloody past). She's got the biggest sway over my creation of his character hehe

DESDEMONA NAUSIKÁA was very nearly called Adrienne because it means 'dark lady from the sea' which suits a dark-haired siren very well! (As I write this I'm considering making it her middle name hehe). However I left the choice between Desdemona and Adrienne down to @itseivwhore who chose Desdemona! I really enjoyed studying Othello and Desdemona was one of my favourite characters. My Des and Shakespeare's are two very different women but I quite like the contrast. Desdemona means 'ill-fated' which I think it fitting for a siren who was born from a human woman's violent death. Nausikáa means 'burner of ships' - perhaps a link to how she died? She cannot remember ;)

APHAELEON definitely has the most metaphoric name. It's a different spelling of the astronomical term 'aphelion' which is simply something's furthest point of orbit from the sun. In this metaphor, the sun represents holiness and Aphae's name therefore puts him at the furthest point from holiness but he has convinced himself that his way, his aphelion actually makes him more holy than anything that's ever been seen before. Aphae has a lot of solar imagery to him, right down to his name!

VA'ARINIEL is another entirely name up name that took me around an hours to come up with I think lol. I knew that I wanted her to have a sharp and uncommon letter at the start of the name like a V or Z and the apostrophe was to name her name seem unusual/uncommon to emphasise the distance between our world and the fae court. The -iniel' ending was to make her name seem more feminine and is inspired by fem Tolkien elves!

TARUQU'INEL is another name up name. I really loved the name Tarhuinn from a Wattpad book (Children of the Water) that I read years ago and so his name is based off that one. I've always adored the name! I wanted Taruqu'inel's name to be able to be shortened to something a little more playful too in order to convey his stolen youth and how he's much softer than his advisors make him out to be so Taru was perfect! The '-inel' ending was to match Va'ari's but for different reasons. @itseivwhore suggested I do so to emphasise their familial relation and I thought it was right to do so and wouldn't name his name seem feminine unlike Va'ari's as it had the stronger, sharper R and Q sounds. (I'm sorry but so much of this is just based on my own phonetic perceptions lol).

KHIONE was actually decided in a poll!! The most popular results were Winter, Delwyn or Khione and Khione won! Khione means 'snow' (fitting for an ice dragon) and is based on a nymph of Greek mythology who was turned into a snow cloud by Hermes!

[mareenavee]

HONESTY and OPEN-MINDEDNESS for the psychological OC asks!

Hi! This has taken far too many days for me to get to, so thank you so much for your patience!

I do love this set of questions. I'll go ahead and do this for Nyenna, Teldryn and Athis so I can ramble on in a long post (: Very kind to pick these very difficult questions for them LOL

Psychology Asks for my fic The World on Our Shoulders!

Ask Game is here.

HONESTY– What kinds of small lies do they tell others? What lies do they tell themselves? What is the biggest lie they’ve told?

Nyenna's small lies are by omission usually. She does not announce she is the Dragonborn. She truthfully doesn't want the attention so she lets people believe whatever they want about whomsoever the Dragonborn might be. She tries to let her actions speak for themselves.

She tells herself that this because she's used to something of anonymity, but it's more like she's still confused how this could have fallen on her shoulders. Truth be told, she barely accepts it even as more and more of her power manifests and that dragon soul she carries with her gets loud and louder.

The biggest lie she's told, perhaps, is likely the one where she said she ran away from home to protect Athis. It was really about herself, and her unwillingness to face her responsibilities, as enormous as they were. The most frequent lie she's ever told to herself and to others is that she's fine and that everything is okay.

Teldryn isn't a small lie kind of person. He is perfectly fine telling people exactly how he feels about what's going on. If he's going to go through the effort to lie, it's going to be something big. At the very least, something of medium importance. We'll get to that in a moment. Instead of small lies, he'll try and talk his way out of a problem and is, to be perfectly honest, annoyingly successful at this most of the time.

He has, however, spent a long time telling himself he doesn't care anymore about what happens next. If he truly didn't care, there would have been no reason for him to spiral as bad as he did. If he didn't care and was already numb, why try to numb the feelings further? Being purposeless and watching the world burn hurt. And he likes to pretend he's over it. It's impossible to be over that kind of pain. It leaves a scar.

The biggest lie he tells is actually by omission as well. A theme, perhaps. He doesn't like to mention that he's the Nerevarine. It probably ties in tightly with the lies he tells himself, that he's over the entire thing. But his discomfort with people recognizing him who he doesn't know already is another reason his attitude about everything contributes to the lie. I like to think he's trying hard now to heal from this. At least he has his friends and Nyenna to help him out.

Athis is trying extremely hard to be a good person. He is honest almost to a fault about the little things. He's honest when he doesn't understand something Nyenna is talking about. He's honest with how he feels in the beginning. He's honest about how much he knows and what he's not willing to put effort into in regards to training and skills. I suppose he's a lot like Nyenna in that he'll try to keep his negative opinions mostly to himself, unless he's with someone he trusts. Sometimes he can be a bit grouchy, but even then he won't necessarily lie, he'll just grouse and leave the conversation.

Athis keeps a lot inside because of his want to be seen as a good person as much as he wants to believe he is one. He's shoved down his trauma so far, that even when the edges of it are dredged up, he tries to pretend they aren't there at all. Like none of it ever happened.

The biggest lie he told is also one of omission. He doesn't want anyone at all to know about his past. He doesn't want to remember his past. He figures not even Nyenna needs to know. The only person who ever guessed and brought it up is in Sovengarde now. Athis still thanks this person when he pays respects at the Skyforge for holding on to that secret early on when it was still too heavy to handle by himself.

OPEN-MINDEDNESS– How do they deal with disagreement? How do they balance different perspectives?

Nyenna is usually the cause of disagreements she gets into because she assumes herself to be the de facto leader of her party and tends to have the anxiety-driven habit of assuming what she says goes. It's different than being sort of bossy about things and stems more from the goal of keeping everyone alive. She can be a little bit stubborn. Okay. A lot stubborn. Sometimes it's for the best. But it does take her a while to realize when she's not going about things the best way. She'd rather go and do things herself first. She has to be proven wrong. This leads to arguing sometimes, depending on the severity of the situation.

When she's got a second to clear her head, she does listen to reason a good 2/3rds of the time, but not without first making her point of view as front and center in the argument as she can. When she's moving on anxiety and fear alone, she doesn't like to try and see the other side of things. More like she can't see it because what is more important than understanding how dangerous things can be? What is more important than keeping those she cares about in one piece? It takes some doing, but she does eventually calm down enough to see multiple ways to handle a problem, most of the time. Good thing she travels with someone who is good at talking.

Teldryn, speaking of, as I mentioned can talk his way out of pretty much any situation with varying degrees of success, but leans toward lucky that way. He does tend to get into disagreements fairly often, because he should be more thoughtful on how he approaches certain situations and...straight up isn't. He will try to get the other person to see where he was coming from in his approach, especially if his actions started the disagreement.

That said, he is relatively fine with hearing other people out if they insist they need to make a plan. Nothing else to do but talk around it anyway. He's gotten himself in trouble for pausing to talk about something and then making the opposite, rash decision anyway.

From chapter 20, which is published:

“There’s about five. Maybe a sixth if they have a scout,” he whispered.

“If I can get a first shot in, we can have them wiped out in no time at all. It’ll make this area safer for other travelers,” Nyenna decided. She took a second to conjure a Bound Bow and crouched as she made her way around the edge of the outcropping.

“Wait! Wait, how about I go in, kill two and draw their full attention, and then you come in after that?” Teldryn offered, feeling a little more uneasy about her just rushing in. He hadn’t even seen her fight yet, and the Reavers were clad in chitin. He wasn’t sure if she even knew the weak spots of that kind of armor.

“You need to stay back,” she said severely. He noticed she’d lowered her scarf, but couldn’t tell why that would matter. He heard her inhale sharply.

“They are armored! A Bound Arrow, no matter how perfectly aimed, isn’t going to do shit except enrage them,” he said angrily. She ignored him. And in turn, he ignored her warning and rushed in. He was just able to draw his sword before something strange indeed happened. 

“FUS RO DAH!” Was that Nyenna? He felt like he’d just weathered a blast, eardrums popping, all sound being replaced with a low whine. The thing was, he hadn’t weathered it. He’d been swept up in some kind of energy she’d created with a few short words. Between one breath and the next, Teldryn was hit with a force like a boulder crashing down a mountain. His lungs emptied of air. His feet were thrown out from underneath him, and he flipped tail over teakettle. He screamed in choir with the other Reavers as he started to plummet down toward the earth like so much debris. He couldn’t control the direction he had been tossed – his head struck a rock and his vision went black. He was vaguely aware of the sound of fire searing, and more screeching, but he could see nothing. His head was pounding. He felt another rush of that same force, though not as directly, and consciousness faded from him.

Athis is perhaps a little bit more agreeable than the other two. He has more of a passive personality and doesn't prefer to fight. Occasionally if he's going to disagree about something, he'll do so after putting up with nonsense until he's annoyed enough to make a snide comment, after which he'll walk away. He's fine getting into battles, but not into arguments if it can be helped. He doesn't claim to be the strategic mastermind or anything and is fine following directions.

He holds all kinds of ideals in his head, though, and that can be tough to reconcile with. He has a perspective of how things are supposed to be and how he fit into the world and now he struggles with the change in perspective and change in dynamic. Change in general is more tough for him than he'd like to admit. So balancing other points of view is not his strong suit. But bless him, he is trying, even if slowly.