#Love Wasn't A Mistake ~ Pale King

[lovestruckprincess]

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[drconstellation]

Liberty versus the Tree of Life

TW: Discussion of death and grief

I received a question from @lickthecowhappy the other day on one of my metas that I'm going to try and address in this post. This is going to wander into some pretty heavy areas, and discuss some implications for S3.

They asked:

"What do you think about comparing "give me liberty (coffee) or give me death" with gaining free will via the tree of knowledge but losing access to the tree of life in the process?"

On one hand this might look like a simple choice between two things, but its not - there are shades of grey, of course. Can the two (liberty/death vs. knowledge/life) be compared? Yes - in a way. But we need to unpack the question in its entirety first.

"Give me liberty, or give me death!"

This famous quote that forms the basis of the name of Nina's coffee shop is from a reconstructed speech given by the American politician Patrick Henry in 1775, as the colonists prepared to fight against the British Empire. It is worth us having a look at the extended excerpt of the speech quoted from Wikipedia in context of what we know is coming in S3:

If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

If the mention of Boston wasn't there, you could almost read that as a crazy synopsis of S2 and S3. The Great War, that wasn't considered concluded satisfactorily and must be restarted and finished once and for all, has begun again, and is on its inexorable way. There will be storms. Some see the outcome in black and white - you either win or die; there is no other option, because they do not dare entertain it.

The fandom seems quite settled with the analogy of liberty and freedom = coffee, and six shots of espresso is Crowley's coffee preference, because he loves and protects his freedom with a passion. Crowley is that coffee, in a way - long, dark and richly intense. He is a champion of free will. Even as a demon he still gives those he tempts the choice to make their own mistakes. So how do we apply this to the coffee the Metatron offers Aziraphale, and the other option, death?

The coffee the Metatron orders and forces on Aziraphale is a message, and a warning, to the angel - "I know all about you and your demon partner." The shot of coffee in it is Crowley, the oat milk is to say Aziraphale has maybe gone a bit too far with things with Crowley while on Earth, and the almond syrup is to say they have been watched and observed do so. This is confirmed when the Metatron mentions that he knows that Aziraphale and Crowley have formed a de facto partnership.

And where would Aziraphale get his Crowley from if he went back to Heaven?

What about death? Is it a real option? What does the option of death mean anyway?

If you are not familiar with the Tarot deck, the Death card can seem quite alarming. A skeleton in black armour strides over a fallen king - death does not care for rank or position. Death cares not for riches, they will not hold it at bay. Nor will prayers. Death does not care what age you are, either. But the small, kneeling child holds a posy of flowers up as if in greeting, the only one prepared to face the rider on the pale horse; this is because children are not as always as set in their ways as adults are, and can adapt to change more easily.

Experienced Tarot users know that is what the Death card signifies when it appears: Change. Something is coming to and end, but something else is about to start as well. It's not a physical death, its a spiritual or metaphorical death. It should be a welcomed card, as it indicates there is a promise renewal and new beginnings on the horizon (see the dawning sun between the two pillars in the top right of the card?) and all one has to do is surrender to the inevitable change. But like death, making changes can sometime be a hard, fearful thing to face. Facing death, either your own or someone else's, is ultimately about accepting change.

Surrender to the British is not what Patrick Henry wanted to do. He wanted to keep the liberty he had in the new world.

But death was the only viable option Aziraphale had.

"So predictable," remarked the Metatron to Nina, when she told him people don't ever ask for death in response to his question. Death is present in Nina's coffee shop - it's the green colour on the inside walls.

I haven't done much colour meta lately but I have been doing a lot of research on them, as I realized the original meta I wrote needed a major revision, which I plan to do soon. Green was one of those colours that needed more work.

The green on the inside walls actually has two meanings, which are both specifically tied to the coffee shop, but the first one is Death, with the capital D. This is one of the Four Horsepeople lurking in the background of S2, as Armageddon prepares to ramp up again. War is on the label of the wine bottle Crowley has in S2E5, Famine is the Marley Horse statue that Crowley puts his sunglasses on inside the bookshop, and where the stone-shaped Eccles cakes are placed in offering. Death is waiting inside the coffee shop, right next to the constraining sky-blue moral lawfulness of Heaven.

Death rides a pale horse, but the word used to describe it, "chloros," actually translates to a "pale greenish-yellow." That would have looked a bit sickly inside the coffee shop, I think, so they used a more complimentary shade of green, and one that would double up with a second meaning. Green is also the colour associated with new beginnings and the resurrection. That's why the outside of The Resurrectionist pub is dark green - it's got nothing to do with Hell (at least, I don't think it does, in this case!)

The Second Coming is in progress. Armageddon is underway again. Someone in Heaven is determined to see the supposed Great Plan come to fruition.

The Riddle of the Sphinx

In Sophocles play Oedipus Rex the titular character meets the Sphinx on a hill outside of Thebes. The monster has been devouring travelers who do not answer her riddle correctly.

"What is the creature that walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three in the evening?"

Clever Oedipus replies with "Man," and defeated, the Sphinx departs, removing her curse from the city.

A baby crawls on four limbs into childhood, then two legs into adulthood, then on three legs with a cane for an aid into old age. This is the natural progression of life. You would not want to remain an infant forever, and similarly if you have children wouldn't you wish to see them progress from childhood to adulthood and have children of their own?

Remember Momento mori? It's a major theme in the series. Remember that you die. It's a reminder that cycles must end and restart, and that death is an important part of life. We saw the Starmaker set up a star factory, but even stars die eventually, and need to die, to make new stars. The universe recycles itself, that is how it keeps going. Sometimes we need a reminder that life is short, although sometimes it seems too long as well.

I think we too easily forget that our ineffable duo, as angel and demon, are entities that can effortlessly travel between these two worlds of life and death, as we humans see it. It's their business to do so, after all. As supernatural beings, they are eternally alive, and death has a different meaning to them - it's destruction that they fear.

The Tree of Knowledge & The Tree of Life

Aziraphale's role as Guardian of the Eastern Gate was to prevent humans returning to the Garden of Eden to access the Tree of Life after they had eaten from the Tree of Knowledge.

The Tree of Knowledge gave us questioning, curiosity and imagination. We learned, we created and in doing so made choices - we used free will. But in taking this liberty it gave us the responsibility for ourselves. It supposedly gave us the concept of sin and doing wrong, and also shorter lives to help us deal with the "agony" of this.

And the other option, the Tree of Life, that is apparently so dangerous we must be kept away from it? Is it death? No, quite the opposite - it offers eternal life, and redemption from sin. In short - a state of no change - and no choice.

To access the Tree of Life now the choice is made for you before you can arrive in front of it, in the Book of Life. If your name is in the Book on Judgement Day, you get to enter Paradise. If it is not, you will be cast down into a lake of burning sulfur (hmm, sounds familiar...) And that's it, forever and ever.

Is that really the ideal of Paradise? Yet we're made to fear the cyclic change and new growth that death brings, and want to yearn so much for the stagnation of Eternity that we rigidly structure our lives around a possible promise of it as a goal.

Eternal Life, Eternal Youth

Eternal life is not the same as eternal youth. In a cautionary tale from Ovid's Metamorphoses we have the Cumaean Sybil who lived a thousand years. She was the priestess of the oracle of Apollo at Cumae, near Naples, and apparently Apollo offered to grant her a wish in exchange for her virginity. She scooped up a handful of sand, and asked to be given as many years of life as there were grains of sand that she held. Later, she refused to sleep with the god, so he let her physical body wither away, because she had failed to ask for eternal youth as well. Her body shrunk as the years went by, and grew smaller and smaller, and eventually only her voice was left, kept contained in a jar. (And here is a link to one of the books on Jim's bookshelf - Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar is named after the ampulla that the Sybil's voice was said to have been kept in.)

Searching for a Fountain of Youth, or creating a Philosopher's Stone for immortality has a common theme in stories through history, even from earliest times. It can be seen as a blessing, or a curse, or a fool's errand. It's a quest that is still prevalent in our modern thinking - going to the gym to build muscle, cosmetic surgery for looks only etc Queer culture has long had an emphasis on youth and beauty and growing old is anathema; freezing the body in time like in Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray is an aim, but our fragile mortal frames just aren't made for that. Isn't it what is inside us that counts, not the label we have applied to it?

Choices, Choices...

The time has come to make a choice: will it be the stimulating coffee of free will, or the painful change and rebirth of death, that might lead to something even better?

Perhaps you want to try the other combination: Having control and responsibility over your own short life in exchange for having to live your life to a strict set of rules so that you can then exist forever in somebody else's idea of a static ideal afterwards.

I find I'm a bit biased. But you chose what you will.

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” T. S. Eliot

[quaithe-seastar]

The Dragon's Gold

Chapter One

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aerys Reyne (male oc)

Summary: Aerys Reyne, son of Naerys Targaryen, the second-born daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, has been best friends with Aegon since childhood. As boys, they had been inseparable. Many said that it reminded them of the early days of King Jaehaerys reign. When the princes Aemon and Baelon were still children. Wherever one boy was, it wasn't long before the other came running behind him. That was until forbidden desires of the heart forced a wedge between them. After the death of his grandsire, King Viserys, Aerys finds himself torn between two sides: stand by his oldest friend or stand by the only mother he has ever known.

Words: 7385

a/n: Dialogue in italics means that the characters are speaking in high valyrian. I was just too lazy to attempt to translate it. Though, there may be some high valyrian thrown in here and there. No beta, so I apologize for any or all grammar and spelling mistakes.

Aerys

Aerys sat on the dirt, sketching in the large leather-bound book sitting across his knees. Agana lay before him, resting her head on the dirt. The sun reflected beautifully off of her aquamarine and silver scales. Aerys’s eyes shifted quickly back and forth from the dragon to the book. The sound of laughter alerted the she-dragon and her rider. Agana let out a low rumble as she stretched her neck up. 

“Don’t worry Agana. We’re done for today,” Aerys smiled as he stood.

He ran his fingers over the dragon's scaled neck. She let out what sounded like a purr as she relaxed under his touch. Her emerald green eyes stared at him as he pulled away. She lowered her neck to nuzzle her head against his chest. Aerys laughed as he patted her muzzle. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go. We’ll go for a ride later,” he smiled.

He stepped back and picked up the brown leather bag on the dirt. He lifted the strap of his head to let it sit on his shoulder. Aerys rubbed Agana’s muzzle one last time before he called out to the dragon keepers. Aerys waved his hand until he lost sight of the dragon. It pained him to leave her chained up in this place, but he had no other choice. His grandfather, King Viserys, had told him the chains were mandatory. 

“Make sure she gets a good meal, please. I’ll return later on today. It’s been a few days since she’s gotten to spread her wings,” Aerys said as he walked with the dragon keepers. 

“Of course, Lord Reyne.” The dragon keepers bowed their heads.

The familiar sound of laughter caught Aerys’s attention. He followed the sound until he reached the two brown-haired boys. His younger cousins, Jace and Luke. Luke noticed him first and immediately ran to his side. The boy was jumping up and down in excitement.

“Mother is having the baby! We’ve picked an egg for them!” He exclaimed as he took hold of Aerys’s hand.

The older boy allowed himself to be pulled along. Aerys could feel the heat from the warming chamber without it even being opened. Ser Harwin was standing beside Jace, with an absentminded smile on his face as he watched the boy look at the large bronze-scaled egg sitting in the warming chamber.

“Jace, let me pick it on my own!” Luke smiled.

“You did good, Luke. I’m sure your mother will love it.” Aerys smiled as he patted Luke’s head. 

“Alright boys,” Ser Harwin interrupted, “You should get that egg to the castle.”

“Will you come with us?” Luke asked as he ran to cling to the gold cloak. Harwin had a look of uncertainty on his face.

“That would be safest,” Aerys shrugged. “It’s not every day an egg leaves the dragon pit right?”

Harwin stared at the older boy for a moment before he nodded. Aerys was no fool. He understood why the man cared so much for the two boys. He had heard the whispers that spread through the castle like wildfire. Ser Harwin also did not do a great job of hiding his fondness for Aunt Rhaenyra’s children. However, it was mostly the boy’s colors that gave it away, brown hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. Whatever Velaryon blood they had in their veins was quite. . . distant.

Bastards, people whispered. The first time Aerys had heard that, he threatened to feed the little pompous Frey boy to Agana. Who the boy’s father was did not matter to Aerys. The boys were still his family, his blood. They had dragons. If that did not prove they were true Targaryens , Aerys did not know what would. 

The boys made their way back to the Red Keep. They were escorted by Ser Harwin, a few gold cloaks, and Ser Lorent. Ser Lorent was the sworn shield of Aunt Rhaenyra. Luke was practically bouncing up and down the entire trip. He was excited to meet the newest edition of the family. He couldn’t decide which he wanted more, a brother or sister. He then began ranting about the pros and cons of both. Aerys sat quietly, simply listening to the little boy ramble. The boy thought of his brother, Robb, the current Lord of Castamere and head of House Reyne. Robb was his half-brother, born five years before him. He wondered if he had been as excited about his birth as Luke was about his new sibling. 

Aerys hoped the babe would not cause his aunt too much trouble. He understood how dangerous the birthing bed could be. His mother had nearly died giving birth to him. Aerys had wished to remain at her side, but it would not be appropriate. So he had decided to spend the day with Agana, to keep himself distracted.

The castle seemed to be even more crowded than usual. Though the crowd moved to clear a path as the boys made their way through. Aerys went first, allowing the boys to follow behind him. The group made their way to Nyra's apartments easily enough. Nyra had yet to return to her chambers, so Aerys decided to return to his bedchamber to clean himself up. 

He had to promise Luke he would return as soon as the baby was here before the boy let him go. Ser Lorent had offered to accompany him but Aerys refused. Aerys quietly walked down to his chambers. A few maids giggled and whispered amongst themselves as they watched him pass by. He smiled politely and nodded.

“I’ll never understand why they flock to you.”

Aerys flinched and turned his head. Aegon was standing on his right side, with a childish pout on his face.

“Maybe if you showed them a little more respect they’d do the same to you,” Aerys sighed.

“Respect? They’re servants. They respect me.” Aegon scoffed.

“I’m sure they do,” Aerys hummed.

Aerys sped up his pace to get away from the boy. Though Aegon was quick to follow. Aerys felt a twinge of nervousness as Aegon walked closer to him. This time their arms pressed side to side, their fingers brushed against each other as they walked. Aerys had thought of stepping away but he could not bring himself to do it. 

“What’s the matter with you? Are you ill?” Aegon asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” Aerys scrunched his face in confusion.

“Your face is red, and your hair is starting to stick to your forehead.” 

Aerys wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “It’s nothing, I'm just worried about Nyra.”

Aegon hummed, “Yes, I heard her labors had started. Mother said she would be shocked if the child wasn’t another bast- boy.”

Aerys shot the older boy a glare, his hands clenched into fists. He picked up his pace, ignoring the Targaryen prince’s pleas to slow down. Aerys finally made it to the thick oak and iron door that shielded his bedchamber. He opened the door just enough to slip through. The young man quickly moved around the door to push it close, unfortunately, he wasn’t fast enough. Aegon slammed his hand against the door to stop it. Aerys sighed and simply walked to the small desk sitting beside his bed. 

He dropped his bag onto the desk and took his seat. He ran his hand through his hair before dragging it down his face. He hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. The young man had known for days that Nyra was nearing the end of her pregnancy. Once again his worries began to overwhelm him. Surely she would be alright, this was her third child after all. Nyra had told him she had little to no trouble with Jace or Luke. So she expected this delivery to go smoothly enough. She had her handmaids and midwives to attend to her. Women who have much experience with delivering children.

“I’m sorry,” the prince apologized.

Aerys jumped slightly as he felt Aegon’s breath against his neck. He hadn’t heard the boy pull up a chair. He had been so caught up in his worries again. Aegon sat behind him, resting his head on Aerys’s shoulder. He could hear Aegon tapping his fingers against the chair, a nervous habit of his.

“I know, it’s just, you know how I feel about that. It’s bad enough they’ll have to deal with the realm whispering about them for the rest of their lives. They don’t need it from their family as well. Especially from you, they look up to you. It would crush them to hear it from you.”

“I know, it’s not their fault. I won’t say it again,” Aegon quickly sat up straight.

Aerys turned his head to see what he was doing. The older boy stood upright. He held his hand over his heart, a look of deep seriousness taking over his face.

“I swear it on my life.”

Aerys rolled his eyes but found himself laughing at the gesture. He lowered his head, not wanting to give Aegon the satisfaction of seeing him lose his composure. Aegon began laughing along with him. Aerys cleared his throat.

“How did it go with your mother this morning?” 

Aegon huffed and shuffled over to the bed, letting himself fall forward. His messy hair fanned out around his head. He buried his face deeper into the blankets.

“That bad?” Aerys questioned, as he stood to his feet.

Aegon said something but it was muffled against the blanket, so Aerys could not understand it. Aerys said nothing as he joined Aegon on the bed. Though he chose to sit with his back against the wall. After a moment of silence, Aegon rolled over with a groan. He turned his head up to look at Aerys. He scooted himself up, laying his head on Aerys’s lap. Aerys’s fingers immediately found themselves gently untangling Aegon's hair. Aegon closed his eyes with a tired sigh.

“She spent the entire time lecturing me on my duties, like always. It's like she thinks I’m some kind of idiot or something.” He scoffed.

“You're her firstborn son, mothers always expect the most of their first. It’s not fair, but that's the way it works.”

“It’s not like I asked to be born first.” He snapped, moving to sit up.

Aerys watched quietly as Aegon moved to sit at the edge of the bed. A deep silence took over the room. Aerys scooted down the bed to sit beside him.

“I’m sorry. Here I am complaining about my mother when you don’t even have one. Shit, that came out wrong, sorry...” Aegon apologized, dropping his face into his hands.

“You have nothing to apologize for Aegon,” Aerys smiled and shook his head. 

Aerys was thinking of what to say next when a loud knock came from the door. He stood quickly to see who it was. It was Ser Lorent, Nyra’s sworn shield. The older man had a smile on his face as he informed Aerys that the princess had given birth to another son. And more importantly that his aunt was alright.

Aerys dismissed the knight and quickly moved to change his clothes. He didn’t want to show up covered in dirt and charcoal. He had forgotten why he had returned to his chambers in the first place. Aegon had returned to lying on his back, glaring at the ceiling.

“I have to go, I promised Luke I would return to see the baby,” Aerys said as he finished lacing his boots. 

Aegon stretched his limbs and moved to stand up. He patted his hair down.

“You want to come? I’m sure Nyra wouldn’t mind.”

“No thank you, we need to be at the dragon pit soon. Mother wants me to stay close to Aemond. Plus, I have a few other things I need to take care of.”

Aerys let out a groan. He had forgotten all about their training today. Oh well, so he would have to be a little late.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

The two nodded and headed their separate ways. Aerys wondered what Aegon was up to. He thought of asking for a moment but then decided he didn’t want to know. Knowing Aegon, it probably has something to do with some new childish game of his. Aerys shook his head and quickly made his way to Nyra’s bed chamber. As he neared, he noticed a few servants cleaning up what appeared to be a trail of blood. His heart began to race as he sped up his pace, but still being careful not to get in the servant's way. Ser Lorent was standing watch over the door and quickly moved aside to allow Aerys entry.

Aerys entered the room just as Laenor was handing the baby over to Ser Harwin. He congratulated Laenor before he moved to find Nyra. She smiled as he moved to sit by her side.

“Are you alright? I saw the blood. Should we send for a maester?” He whispered urgently.

She chuckled softly and shook her head. “I am fine, Aerys. I’m exhausted, but I’ll recover.”

He nodded in understanding, but his face must have given away his concern because she placed a comforting hand on his face. 

“I will be fine, I swear. Now, what would make me feel better is knowing you accompanied the boys to the dragon pit to keep an eye on them for me. The last thing I need is for them to get into trouble. We can visit more later alright?” Her thumb gently stroked along his face.

Aerys smiled and nodded in agreement. Laenor was trying to herd the boys together, mainly Luke, who was trying desperately to get his hands on the baby. Aerys quickly moved to help, gently pushing Luke along. He rode along in the carriage with the two Velaryon boys to the dragon pit. Luke had told him the baby had been named Joffrey. Aerys thought it was an odd choice of name, but he did not mention it. Jace seemed to be a little nervous. He was still learning how to command Vermax. Aerys could remember how he felt when he had begun training with Agana. However, he had very little difficulty with her. She learned everything quickly enough. He ruffled the older Velaryon boy’s brown hair to comfort him.

Aegon and Aemond had already arrived at the dragon pit before Aerys and the boys. Dragon keepers were awaiting them by the giant doors of the dragon pit. They followed them inside to meet with the other two princes. The dragon keepers decided that Aerys would go first. He waited eagerly for Agana to appear. The light gleamed off of her beautiful silver scales as she appeared from the darkness. She had grown much larger over the past year. Agana let out a soft growl as she moved forward.

“Serve! Halt, Agana!” Aerys quickly commanded.

The dragon came to a quick stop. She lowered her neck to press her head against his chest. He had been pushed back a few steps but he was quick to regain his balance. Aerys laughed as he rubbed his hand over the side of her face. 

“Well done.”  The old dragon keeper praised.

The sound of a bleating goat caught the dragon’s attention. She watched intently as the dragon keepers chained the goat in place, but she did not move from her spot. The dragon keepers quickly moved away from the goat. Aerys waited until they were at a safe distance before he gave the command.

“Dracarys, Agana!”

Agana quickly moved closer to the goat, raising her head back high. She let out a loud screech before a blast of flame shot from her mouth, engulfing the large goat. She scarfed it down quickly. When she was done, the dragon keepers escorted her back to her nest.

Aegon was up next, with his dragon Sunfyre. Sunfyre was truly a magnificent creature. His scales shimmered like freshly polished gold. Even the two long horns on his head seemed to shimmer. Aegon's lessons had gone by as quickly as Aerys. The two older boys had nearly mastered control of their dragons.

 Finally, it was Jace’s turn, he was the last one. Luke was still too young to control Arrax, and Aemond had yet to claim a dragon. Aerys nudged Aegon’s shoulder when the older boy let out a fake yawn. The old dragon keeper nudged the Velaryon boy forward. It was important for Jace to stay in control of his emotions. If he got too afraid it would agitate the already ill-tempered Vermax. Jace jumped back when the green dragon lunged his head forward, but he was quick to command him to halt. Which earned him praise from the old dragon keeper. Jace was practically jumping with excitement as he asked if he could give Vermax the command. There was a wide smile across his face as he turned to face the group. Aegon and Aerys nodded their heads in encouragement. 

“Dracarys, Vermax!”

The room lit up as the dragon fire consumed the goat. Aerys moved to stand beside Jace. They watched as Vermax quickly began to feast upon the roasted flesh. 

“You did well.” He praised the brown-haired boy.

Aerys turned his head as Luke began to run ahead. He moved to go after him but Aegon shook his head. Aerys listened quietly as Aegon went on about Aemond not having a dragon. He knew it was a sensitive topic for the young Targaryen. Aerys could not even begin to imagine what his life would be like without Agana. It pained him to think about it. He furrowed his brows in confusion as Aegon claimed they found a dragon for him. It did not take long to understand what was going on. 

Luke appeared from the darkness with a large pig by his side. The pig had wings tied to its body. The boys began laughing and taunting Aemond. Aerys found himself letting out a laugh, though he was quick to stifle it. The three boys ran away, leaving Aemond with the so-called pink dread. Aerys moved to stand by Aemond’s side.

“Don’t listen to them, Aemond. You still have time.”

The young Targaryen boy said nothing in return. Aerys placed a hand on his shoulder before he ran off to catch up with the other boys.

-

They had quickly returned to the castle after the dragon keepers had shown up with a very disheveled-looking Aemond. Luke and Jace waved as Ser Lorent escorted them back to their mother’s apartments. Aerys tried to wave as Aegon pulled him along. The two boys walked alone down the empty hall. Aemond had been sent to the queen as soon as they reached the castle. 

“What you did to Aemond was cruel.” 

“It was harmless fun. You laughed didn’t you?” Aegon turned his head to question him.

Aerys lowered his head to hide his smile. Aegon began to laugh. 

“That’s not the point, Aegon. It was still cruel.”

The two boys returned to Aerys’s chambers. Aerys rolled his eyes as Aegon gawked at the serving girl who brought them wine. The young woman was quick to bow and leave the room. Aerys handed a cup to Aegon, who had made himself comfortable on the bed.

“You could at least take off your boots, they’re filthy.” Aerys scoffed as he kicked off his boots.

Aegon huffed and lifted his right foot. Aerys chose not to argue and simply pulled off Aegon's boots. He dropped them to the ground and climbed onto the bed. The two boys lay beside one another quietly. Aerys groaned as he stretched out his limbs. Perhaps he could slip in a quick nap before he had to train with Ser Criston. Aegon slowly crept his hand closer to Aerys’. His fingers toyed with Aerys’s hand until the boy lifted it, allowing Aegon to intertwine their fingers. He turned his head to find Aegon already watching him.

“We should go to Essos,” Aegon said.

“Essos? What would we do there?” Aerys scoffed.

“We could do whatever we want. We have dragons, the people there would treat us like kings. We’d drink the rarest wines, dine on the finest food, and have all the beautiful women we could ever want.”

“If only it were that simple. Your mother would never let you go. She’d send Ser Criston after you.” Aerys snickered as he poked at Aegon’s side. 

The Targaryen prince swatted his hand away. “I doubt that. She’d probably cry tears of joy.”

Aerys laughed at the comment, making Aegon punch him on the arm.

“You could at least disagree!”

Aegon sighed and turned his head back towards the stone ceiling. Aerys began to think of what their life in Essos would be like. The idea did not appeal to the boy very much at all. His life and his family were here in Westeros. Wine, food, and women were not so important to him that he would abandon his family.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure she would be very distraught.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aegon grumbled. “Forget I said anything.”

There was a sadness in Aegon’s voice as he turned his head away. His grip on Aerys’ fingers lessened and he moved his hand away. Aerys did not understand why the boy was so upset so he decided it was best to move on.

“Sunfyre has grown quite a bit,” He smiled. 

The mention of Sunfyre always seemed to perk up the elder boy’s mood, but Aegon only hummed in agreement.

“Perhaps you could join me later. Agana is growing restless, she needs to stretch her wings.”

“I would have to ask my mother first. You know how she is,” Aegon sighed.

An awkward silence filled the room as the two boys stared at the ceiling. Aerys struggled to find the right thing to say. Aegon could be very difficult when he got into one of his moods.

“So, tell me more about this street of silk. How was it?” Aerys asked.

The older Targaryen boy scoffed, but a sly smirk slowly crept onto his lips.

“Was it that good?”

“Good? Gods be good Aerys, it was riveting. The people are absolutely mad. The girls are willing to do anything for a bit of coin. You will join me next time.”

“No thank you, that’s your thing. I think I’ll stick to my boring late-night reading.” Aerys shook his head.

“It was not a request. We shall go tonight.” Aegon proclaimed as he stood up triumphantly.

Aerys’ protests fell upon deaf ears as Aegon pulled on his boots, murmuring about his plans for the evening. Aerys, deciding to stop wasting his breath, moved to sit at his desk once again.

“We shall meet tonight by Balerion’s skull.”

Aegon declared as he made his way out of the room. The thick wooden door slammed loudly behind him. Aerys let out an amused sigh as he shook his head. What has he gotten himself into now, he questioned himself. Aerys grabbed a hold of his leather bag to hang it on his chair. As he lifted it into the air the strap snapped off sending his belongings tumbling onto the floor. The clink of metal caught his attention first. He was quick to scoop the ring into his hands. His eyes trailed over the bejeweled ring for any sign of damage, before unclasping the hinges on the side.

“I apologize muna,” he whispered as his finger trailed lightly over the enameled portrait within.

The young man closed the ring and slid it back onto his finger. He had forgotten to put it back on earlier. He only took it off because it was a bit difficult to sketch with it on. A feeling of sadness began to creep into his mind. How desperately he longed to have his mother and father back. It has been a little over a decade and yet the wound remains fresh in his heart. Aerys could feel his lips begin to tremble and his eyes well up with tears. He quickly cleared his throat and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. There would be time for tears later. For now, he had to prepare for his training with Ser Criston.

-

Aerys sprinted through the halls of the castle. Trying carefully to avoid contact with the passing nobles. As he rounded a corner a woman appeared. He tried desperately to come to a halt but was too slow. Aerys was quick to grab the woman before she could fall, but the tray in her hand clattered against the stone ground.

“I apologize, Lord Reyne. It was an accident,” the young woman began apologizing profusely.

 She pressed her hands together as she prayed for mercy. Aerys shook his head. His hands gently closed around hers, as he tried to comfort her. He didn’t recognize her, Aerys assumed she must be new. The woman seemed to be around his age, maybe two or three years older. But she stood a head taller than him.

“It’s alright my lady, it is I who is to blame. I should know better than to be running around the halls at this busy hour. Come, let me help you.”

He smiled as he knelt to the ground. Fortunately, it was only cheese, grapes, and bread, so it was easy to pick up. The girl quickly knelt down and gently pushed his hands away.

“No-no my lord! I will clean it, don’t worry!”

“Nonsense, it's my fault.”

Aerys quickly snatched up as many of the fallen items as he could and placed them back in their bowls. It had almost turned into a competition. With everyone he reached for, the woman was quick to grab it first. When their work was done the woman quickly stood and bowed her head. Aerys watched as she scurried away, mostly likely back towards the kitchen. His gaze remained on her until she disappeared. He stood there for a moment longer before cursing under his breath. He was late.

By the time Aerys made it to the outer yard the rest of the boys were already swinging at dummies. Ser Criston spotted him first. Suddenly Aerys wished he hadn’t shown up at all. Ser Criston detests tardiness. The scowl on the white knight's face as he approached him filled his stomach with dread.

“Nice of you to finally show up, Lord Reyne, we feared you were unwell.”

“My apologies Ser Criston, I accidentally crashed into a maid on the way here. I had to help- my apologies.”

He silenced himself as the knight gave him a bored expression. Ser Criston nodded before nudging his hand towards the wooden swords. Aerys quickly took one before moving to the free dummy in the center. Aegon snickered as Aerys passed by him. Aerys swung his arms, striking the dummy with his wooden sword. He did this five more times before they began rotating. Aemond took his place as Aerys moved to take Jace’s place. Aegon groaned loudly as he struck the dummy with all his might. Aerys did the same. Aerys was not a fan of swords. He was adequate with a sword, but he did not believe anyone would be singing songs of his skills for years to come. His skill with a bow, however, was much better. However, sword training was a requirement. He had no say in the matter.

A quick thwack to the nape of his neck caught his attention. He turned his head to find the culprit. Aegon nodded his head ahead. Aerys followed his gaze to find two incoming maids. When they spotted the prince they quickly turned their gaze and scurried away. Aerys let out a weary sigh. He switched places with Jace again, moving away from Aegon. He gave the young boy a light pat on the shoulder as he passed. Ser Criston called for Aegon and Aemond to try and attack him. Aerys grabbed hold of Jace and Luke, gently pushing them back so they would not be in the way. 

The two boys groaned as they threw their full weight into their attacks. Yet Ser Criston evaded them all, skillfully dodging every swing.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he taunted.

The white knight quickly deflected Aegon's next blow. Sending the prince rushing forward. Ser Criston whacked the prince's bum as he stumbled. Ser Harwin called out to Jace and Luke. Aerys turned his head to listen as the gold cloak gave instructions. The boys followed his instructions, quickly lifting their swords. Aerys found himself doing the same. Ser Harwin’s gaze drifted over to Ser Criston. Aerys could feel the tension between the two men. It was no secret that there was bad blood between the two men. Though the reason why was unknown to Aerys, he knew it had something to do with Nyra. The white knight seemed to hold no love for the Princess.

“Seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston.”

“You questioned my method of instruction Ser?”

“Oh, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.”

Aegon and Aemond moved to stand with the rest of the boys. Luke smiled as he tried to taunt Aegon. The elder boy merely pushed him away. The young boy chuckled to himself. Aerys gave him a nod to get back in line. His smile slightly dropped as he moved to stand still.

“Very well,” the white knight replied to the gold cloak.

“Jaecaerys, come here.”

Aerys furrowed his brows as he watched the white knight grab Jace by the collar, roughly pulling him along with him.

“You’ll spar with Aegon.”

Aegon and Aemond chuckled to themselves. Aegon quickly fetched his sword before moving forward.

“Eldest son against eldest son,” the knight announced.

“Hardly a fair match-”

“I know you’ve never seen true battle Ser, but when steel is drawn a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect.” Ser Criston quipped.

Aegon gave Jace a pat on the back as he passed him. The two boys raised their blades as Ser Criston instructed.

“Engage.”

Aegon lunged forward with a yell. Jace was quick to deflect the attacks, but he was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Aegon forced him back with every blow. The elder prince moved his hand out, pushing the dark-haired boy to the ground. Aerys cursed under his breath. 

“Come on Jace,” he whispered encouragingly.

The brown-haired boy was quick to his feet. This time it was Aegon who was pushed back with each attack. Jace swung the sword with all his might. He was fast, so fast that as soon as Aegon blocked a hit, another was right behind it. Aegon, clearly growing frustrated, moved behind a dummy. Pushing it forward so that it nearly toppled onto Jace.

“Foul play!” Ser Harwin called out as he moved to advise Jace.

“I’ll deal with him,” Ser Criston retorted as he pulled Aegon towards him.

Ser Harwin smiled as he quietly advised Jace, his gloved hand gently holding Jace by the chin.

“You!” Aegon yelled, gaining the younger boy’s attention.

Once again the two began their dance. Aegon’s attacks were unrelenting. The younger boy struggled to keep up once more. Ser Criston yelled out instructions to the elder prince. Aegon raised his leg kicking Jace in the stomach, sending the boy to the ground. The brown-haired boy was forced to try and defend himself on the ground. The white knight refused to allow Aegon to ease off. Instructing him to keep attacking.

“Enough!” Ser Harwin yelled as he grabbed Aegon, pulling him away from Jace.

The prince struggled against the gold cloak’s grasp. Ser Harwin released him, sending the prince stumbling.

“You dare lay hands on me?!” Aegon howled in anger.

The noise made Luke jump and tense up. Aerys put a comforting hand on Luke’s shoulder. He moved to stand behind his cousin. Resting his hands upon the small boy's shoulder, keeping him close.

“Aegon!” The king called, from where he usually sat, watching the boys train.

“You forget yourself Strong, that is the prince.” Ser Criston voiced.

“Is this what you teach Cole? Cruelty to the weaker opponent?” Ser Harwin said as he picked up the wooden swords.

Ser Criston dropped the wooden sword he had been holding to his feet. Ser Harwin kicked it away, refusing to bend down and pick it up.

“Your interest in the prince's training is quite unusual, Lord Commander.” Ser Criston replied. “Most men would only have that kind of devotion towards a cousin, or a brother... or a son.”

Aerys could feel his breath get caught in his throat. Cole would be so bold as to say such a thing in public? He watched the two men with uncertainty. Ser Harwin was not known for his tranquility. Nor was Ser Criston. Aerys remembered hearing the tale about how the white knight beat a man to death with his bare hands. It was on the very same night that Nyra married Ser Laenor. The gold cloak paused for a moment before he lunged towards Ser Criston. His large gloved hand connected to the knight's cheek. Aerys quickly grabbed Jace and Luke, pushing them behind his back.

Ser Harwin landed another hit, sending the white cloak to the ground. Yet he refused to relent, quickly climbing on top of the man, and continuing his assault. Ser Criston did not even put up a fight against the gold cloak. It took four other white cloaks to pull Ser Harwin off of Ser Criston. Though they struggled to hold him back.

“Say it again!” Ser Harwin roared. “Say it again!”

The lord commander had to be dragged out of the outer yard like an animal. His reputation would certainly take a heavy blow. Attacking a member of the king's guard was madness.

“What do we do now?” Luke asked, clinging onto Aerys’ sleeve.

“Don’t worry, let’s get you both back to your chambers.” Aerys smiled as he pulled the two boys along with him.

Luke still held on tightly as they walked quietly down the empty hallway. Jace had yet to speak, choosing to keep his head down. Ser Lorrent walked ahead of them, escorting them back to the young boy’s chambers. Ser Lorrent pushed open the thick oak doors. He moved out of the way, allowing the three boys to pass. Aerys gave him a nod of appreciation before the white cloak closed the doors. It was just the three of them now. They were in Jace’s room. Luke’s room was next door, but the boy wished to stay at his brother's side.

“Is Ser Harwin in trouble? What will happen to him?” Luke asked.

Aerys looked down at the small boy. He used his right hand to ruffle the boy’s curly hair. Aerys was aware of how close the boys were to Ser Harwin. Luke practically idolized the man. Ser Harwin’s father was the hand of the king, surely his punishment wouldn’t be that severe. Aerys gave him the best reassuring smile he could muster.

“I don’t know Luke, but I’m sure everything will be fine. Why don’t we go play with your toys hmm?” 

Aerys waved his hand out towards the large wooden toy chest against the wall. Luke nodded before running off. Jace remained silent, staring at his shoes. Aerys placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder breaking whatever trance he was in.

“Come on,” he whispered, attempting to coax him into following Luke.

But the boy would not move. Aerys craned his neck to try and get a good look at the boy's face, but couldn’t. He finally placed a finger under the boy's chin, forcing him to look up. The poor boy was desperately fighting back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. His trembling lips were curled upside down. Aerys kneeled on the floor to be at eye level with Jace. He placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.

“What’s wrong Jace?” Aerys asked, as gently as he could.

“Is Ser Harwin my father?”

The young lord froze. He felt like he had been punched in the gut. His eyes glanced over to Luke, to ensure the boy had not heard the question. Fortunately, he seemed too preoccupied with his toys. At that moment it seemed like all the words he had ever learned were now lost to him. What could he say? What was he supposed to say? He supposed it was only natural for Jace to be curious. The boy was growing older. It was only a matter of time before the whispers of the court began weighing on his shoulders. He may still be young now, but he certainly was no fool. But it was not Aerys' place to confirm his suspicions.

“Ser Laenor has raised you since you were born. If that is not a father, I don’t know what is.”

“But Ser Criston said-”

 “The Velaryons have claimed you as their own. The opinions of others do not matter.”

The brown-haired boy went silent. The look on his face made it apparent to Aerys that his words did nothing to satiate the boy’s curiosity. But regardless, Jace nodded his head and moved to join Luke. Aerys remained on his knee, cursing himself in his head for his tone. He had snapped a bit after the mention of Ser Criston. It was not intentional, but the boy's questions had left him feeling like a trapped animal. He would have to apologize later.

-

Aerys used the tips of his fingers to light smudge the charcoal, giving the dragon’s wing a more blended finish. He could feel small beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. Quickly, he used his sleeve to wipe them away. The young man had been working on this piece for nearly a week now. It was proving to be one of his greatest challenges yet.

“You’ve improved.”

Startled, he jumped in his seat. Aerys turned his head to find Nyra standing behind him. He hadn’t even noticed her come in. She gave him an apologetic smile as she gently rubbed his back.

“My apologies, I thought you heard me coming.”

“No worries, I just got a little distracted with this.” Aerys shrugged.

He turned his gaze back towards the drawing. Suddenly he was hyper-aware of all the flaws, little or imagined. Aerys moved to cover it but Nyra stopped him by placing a hand over his. Her eyes trailed over every inch of the dragon.

“Is that Syrax?”

Aerys gave her a simple nod. It was the first time he had ever drawn another dragon beside his and Aegons. Agana and Sunfyre were the perfect studies. They were able to lounge about for hours on end, allowing him to capture their magnificence. Aegon would mumble and groan every time Aerys dragged him along to the dragon pit just to sit there while Aerys sketched, but he always went along anyway. Though most of the time it would end in the two of them racing through the skies on dragonback. He had countless drawings of them, but Aerys wanted to do something different. In time he hoped to capture the beauty of all the dragons of the realm for his book. Dragon lore was scarce in this world. And who better to record it, than a dragon rider? Syrax was his next target. The she-dragon had recently brought forth another clutch. Before the new additions arrived, Syrax had become even more slothful than usual. So it was easy to sit and draw her while she lounged about in the dragon pit. 

“I love it. You’ve captured her perfectly.”

Nyra pressed a quick kiss to his head.

“Though there is something else I’ve come here to discuss with you, Aerys.”

The young man nodded before turning his body to face her. She looked tired, which was understandable. The woman had just given birth to a child. Something Aerys understood was much more taxing on women’s bodies than men gave them credit for. He stood to his feet, offering her his chair. Aerys waited for her to be seated before fetching one for himself.

“What is it?” He inquired politely.

“Laenor and I have decided to leave for Dragonstone. The ship is getting ready as we speak.” Nyra spoke gently, as she caressed the back of his hand with her thumb.

“Oh,” Aerys furrowed his brow. “Alright...it shouldn’t take me long to pack my things.”

Aerys moved to stand but Nyra stopped him. He tilted his head in confusion. There was a sadness behind her violet eyes. His body stiffened under her touch, as she held his hands in hers. A sharp ache stabbed away at his chest. That familiar burning sensation reached his eyes. And he struggled to keep the frown away from his lips. He pursed his lips and turned his face to stare at the desk beside them.

“You’re not taking me with you...” he murmured.

“The king wishes for you to remain at court.”

A pregnant pause filled the air. Aerys was unsure of what to say. He did not trust his voice, too scared of possibly showing his affliction. Rhaenyra owed him nothing. She was not his mother and he was not her son. The princess was not required to take him with her. He was the king's ward, not hers.

“But that does not mean we’ll never see each other again. We’ll exchange letters, and you’re always welcome to come visit when the king permits it.”

Aerys said nothing.

“You have friends here. I understand you and Aegon are...close. Surely he would be upset if you left. You’ll be happy here, just like you’ve always been.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “I wish you a safe journey, Princess.”

Her face fell upon hearing her title come from his mouth. She opened her mouth to speak when a knock upon the door stopped her. Aerys quickly called out to them to enter. He pulled his hands away and stood to his feet. It was Elinda Massey, one of Rhaenyra’s handmaids.

“The ship is ready, Princess.”

“Thank you Elinda.”

The woman bowed before taking her leave. Aerys still refused to meet the Princess’s gaze. Instead choosing to stare at the tapestry next to his door. It was a man, pale-skinned and bare. His long white hair flowed down his body, which was entangled with a green dragon. The soft click of her shoes echoed as she moved to stand in front of him. Her fingers gently brushed his hair away from his face, before trailing down to cup his chin. That sweet sad smile returned to her face.

“This is not goodbye Aerys,” she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

Something she had done a million times before. Yet now the kiss that had always made him feel so warm, so safe, left him with nothing but a hollow feeling in his chest. He gave a simple nod. It was all he could do to not beg her to take him. To plead with her to not abandon him in the stony confines of this castle. But alas, he would not. He was nearly a man-grown. A man of the houses Reyne and Targaryen. He must always act with poise and good deportment.

“Perhaps you would like to see the boys before we depart?”

“No,” he snapped. “I mean, the hour is growing late. You’ll have a long journey ahead of you. I’m sure you’re all anxious to get out onto the sea already.”

“Aerys,” she sighed, gazing into his iris-colored eyes. “I know-”

Another knock sounded at the door. This time it was Ser Lorent who entered.

“We must be going now Princess,” he declared.

Aerys used this time to step back, pulling away from the Princess’s grasp. The woman pursed her lips and gave the young man a small nod.

“Alright,” she whispered.

Aerys said nothing as he watched her walk away. Her white hair slightly swayed behind her as she walked. Aerys moved to call out for her, yet he could not speak. The young man moved back to his desk. Allowing himself to drop back into his seat. He was alone now.

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading my work!

[aemondgirlfriend]

INVISIBLE STRINGS (4)

Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister (OC)

Summary: Aemond Targaryen was known as a cold, cruel and frightening prince, but he wasn't like that. Aemond was affectionate, intelligent, obedient and loved his family, but mostly her. Alysanne Targaryen is Aemond's twin sister, but with a different appearance. She had hair like her mother Alicent's, but her eyes were the violet of Old Valyria, the blood of the dragon running through her veins. Aemond Targaryen was cold, cruel and frightening, but not with her. What Alysanne wanted, he did. Because it was always her and always will be.

Rating: Explicit/+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warning: Violence and explicit NSFW, third-person POV, bad language, angst, fluff, smut (unprotected sex, oral (giving and receiving), use of fingers)

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. This is the first story I've posted on tumblr, so please take it easy on me.

Alysanne stared at her reflection in the mirror while her maid calmly combed her dark hair. It had been weeks since the princess had spoken to the King, and he made no point of speaking to her. The dinners, meetings and celebratory parties were always the same, a part of the family getting together to keep up appearances, but it was all shit.

"- Princess?" she came out of her thoughts and faced her maid in the mirror “— I’m done.”

“—Oh, thank you, dear. You can stay for dinner with us, you know I love your company.”

“— It wouldn’t be appropriate, princess. The King would not approve.”

“—Oh fuck what he thinks. You are my maid, my lady-in-waiting, if I ask you to accompany me to something, no one should interfere with it.” She approached Gilly, her blonde lady-in-waiting with brown eyes, holding her shoulders “— I’ll lend you one of my dresses, you can choose.”

“—But…princess…”

“—Do not disobey your princess’s orders.” Alysanne said in a serious tone, clearly joking, then smiling. “— I’ll fix you up.”

And she did. Gilly chose a lilac dress with some embroidered butterflies and the princess did a simple hairstyle on her blonde locks. They looked in the mirror and hugged each other.

“— You’re beautiful, I bet some lord might even be interested in you.”

Gilly's pale face turned red as a tomato and the princess laughed, linking their arms together. They left the rooms and walked slowly to the main hall, where a celebration was taking place. It had been like this in the last few weeks, since Alysanne and Viserys had a falling out, the King had been throwing parties in the fortress with the aim of finding a groom for his youngest daughter, but it wasn't being easy. Not only Alysanne, but Aemond scared away the princess's potential suitors, scaring them and offering them as lunch to Vhagar. And now Alysanne scared them with Cannibal, saying that the dragon was super protective of her and would kill anyone who got close to her without her approval.

The King didn't like this.

Alysanne asked Gilly to have fun and went to her twin who smiled when he saw her. The purple dress fit perfectly on her body and highlighted her curves, matching perfectly with the color of her beautiful eyes. The princess approached her brother and hugged him, kissing his cheek.

“— You once again attracting everyone’s attention, I don’t like it.”

“—Come on, no jealousy, Aemond.” She adjusted the collar of her black clothes and held his hand. "- Do you wanna Dance?"

"- I do not dance."

"- Please. Or will I have to ask one of these lords, and honestly? I don't want." She looked at him with her pious eyes. “— Then I will ask Aegon.”

She let go of his hand and turned to leave, but Aemond grabbed her wrist, turning her back to him. With his jaw set and his face serious, Aemond pulled his sister into the middle of the room. He spun her around and held her waist, everyone's eyes fixed on the two brothers, the princess who was laughing and the prince who was just doing what she wanted. Everyone knew how spoiled by Prince Alysanne was, but they had never actually seen it happen. Alicent looked at the two with a smile on her face, while the King drank his wine in silence.

“— They’re getting closer and closer.” the Queen said, looking at her husband. “— We should accept Aemond’s proposal.”

Viserys placed the cup on the table and took a deep breath, wetting his lips.

“—Alysanne will marry whoever I choose.”

“— You know she won’t.” the King was silent, turning his gaze to the Queen. “— I never liked your ways, but…I can see how happy they are and how happy they would be. Can't imagine? Aemond has Vhagar and Alysanne Cannibal, they would be strong and good allies for other houses in the future.” Alicent got up from her chair and straightened her dress. “—Think about it once again, husband, and dance with your daughter. It’s time to sort things out.”

The Queen walked away and went close to Helaena who was arguing with Aegon because he was drinking too much. Alysanne and Aemond stopped dancing and the princess was panting, unlike the prince who was just tired. She held his hand and pulled him to the table, taking a glass of wine and drinking it heartily.

“— I see you’re thirsty.”

She looked at her father and let go of her brother's hand, wetting her lips and wiping away the traces of wine.

“— Dancing makes me thirsty and tired.” she pursed her lips, Aemond still staring at her.

"- Is tired? I thought I could have a dance with my daughter.”

Alysanne opened her lips in surprise and looked at her brother who smiled with the corner of his lips, motioning for her to accept the dance.

“— Well, I… I think I can dance some more.”

Viserys smiled and stood up, walking over to her daughter and linking her arm with hers. The two attracted all the eyes in the room, most of them surprised by the King's attitude, especially Otto and his children. The last time they saw Viserys do something like this was when Rhaenyra was just a child and Helaena when she married Aegon, but now it seemed different. All the guests knew that the father and daughter had fallen out, rumors spread quickly through the walls of the fortress and especially throughout Westeros, seeing that scene made some people happy with their reconciliation.

Alysanne danced the choreography she always did with the others, spinning, jumping and laughing, sometimes making the King laugh.

“— I'm sorry for my rude words, my daughter, I've been really hard on you.”

The princess stopped to listen to him, people still dancing around them.

“— I want to see you happy and with your family formed, and… with someone you love.” he held her hands and caressed her palm. “— And that’s why I wanted to make you a proposal.”

Alysanne took a deep breath and waited for his answer with a small smile on her face, wishing it was the answer she wanted.

“— I want to propose your hand to Jason Lannister.” the sparkle in the princess's eyes and the smile on her lips disappeared immediately, and once again she felt her eyes water. “— He is not an old man and he is a good person, I am sure he would be a good husband just as you would be a good wife and they would have beautiful heirs. He’s super loyal to me and it would be nice to always have the Lannisters on our side.” he shook her hands, looking into her violet eyes. “—What do you say?”

She felt her lips tremble and pulled her hands away, her nose itching with the urge to cry. She shook her head and laughed nasally, wetting her lips.

"- You are unbelievable."

Alysanne walked away, pushing past the people who were in her way and left the room, hearing the King shout her name, his eyes following her steps one last time that night. The princess locked herself in her chambers and removed the dress she was wearing, undoing her hair. She changed into looser clothes and let her hair down, grabbing a cape from her hanger. With her dagger at her waist, the princess entered Maegor's passages and left the castle, heading towards the flea desert.

She was going to have a different kind of fun tonight.

[theoldpersonliveshere]

“I am done with my graceless heart // Tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart”

Sequel to Happiness is a Butterfly

Baela loved her mother, she was the bravest, kindest, most beautiful woman she’d ever known. But that doesn't mean she wanted to be an exact copy of her. Her grandmother thought differently.

When she was sent to ward at Driftmark, within the first week Rhaenys had sent for a hairdresser to comb out Baela's dreads. She remembered the long, painful process of the procedure and her grandmother telling her how pretty she’d look.

“Just like your mother,” she had said, “I used to sit with her every morning and brush her hair.”

When it was over she looked in the mirror and saw a stranger. But not wanting to displease her grandmother, she pasted on a smile and said how much she loved it.

It went in like that for years. Baela did her hair like her mother's and wore idealised versions of dresses she wore. Laena’s dresses were a bit more revealing than Rhaenys approved, so she would just wear what her grandmother would have picked for her mother. Baela had no idea who she was anymore. Then there were talks about a betrothal to Prince Jacaerys.

“You'll get back what was taken from you.” her grandmother had said.

“Taken from me? What was taken from me?” Baela had a suspicion that it had something to do with Laena. It always did.

“Oh,” Rhaenys started trying to cover up her mistake. “Your mother would have married King Viserys, if he hadn't married Alicent Hightower. You would have been a princess.”

Baela grimaced. She wouldn't like being Viserys daughter and having to compete with Rhaenyra for his affection.

Then her Uncle Vaemond decided to make a claim on Driftmark by declaring Rhaenyras sons bastards. She didn’t see the point in that, because if they were disinherited, she and Rhaena would be next in line to get Driftmark. Then again, Uncle Vaemond wasn’t the wisest of men.

At the trial, she saw Rhaenyra and her family for the first time in a long time. Jacaerys had grown from a child into a handsome young man. If she must marry, she wouldn't mind marrying him. Behind Jace was a strange looking girl with white hair and red eyes. She reminded Baela of a deer with the way she was trying to hide herself from the crowd. Before the trial started Jace had taken the girl's hand and was talking softly to her but she seemed to shrink whenever he touched her. Then the trial started and the betrothal between Baela and Jace was announced and the girl shrunk even smaller.

When the trial was over Baela was talking to Rhaenyra and decided to appease her curiosity.

“My lady, who was that pale girl at the trial? I haven't seen her before.”

“Pale girl… Oh that was Fen! Her mother was my maid and we took her in after she died. She's a sweet girl, always doing something.”

“And she and Jace are close?”

“They seem to be, but it isn't anything to worry about. Jace will do his duty.”

That did not comfort Baela.

At dinner Baela was sat next to Jace. Fen was sat on his other side and was wearing a red dress that was loaned to her. She had to admit that she looked lovely in the dress, the dark red was a nice contrast to her pale skin and hair. Unfortunately, Aegon noticed also and was making lewd comments to her. She was very tempted to punch him in the face to shut him up, but she didn't think her stepmother would appreciate that. It was tempting though.

When the dancing started, she had slightly hoped that Jace would ask her to dance. Instead, he approached Helaena and asked her to dance. That was nice she supposed, Helaena did seem lonely.

She and Fen were left sitting alone together. She was curious if she'd say anything or stay a wallflower.

“Congratulations on your betrothal, Lady Baela,” Fen said softly. Baela looked at her, Fen wasn't making eye contact and was looking down at her hands folded in her lap. The poor girl was clearly terrified and Baela pitied her. If only things were different.

“Thank you, you look lovely in that dress by the way, the colour suits you,” she said. She was about to tell her that Aegon was a pig and not to listen to him, but then Prince Aemond approached Fen and asked her to dance.

During the dance, Aemond must have said something snide to Jace, because a fight broke out. Unfortunately, Rhaena grabbed Baela before she could punch Aegon. When they were sent to their rooms, Baela saw Fen rush out closely followed by Jace. She silently went after them and hid in an alcove. The two were arguing in hushed tones and Jace had grabbed Fen’s hand. After another moment he kissed her, from the way Fen kissed him back it was obvious they were in love. Fen pushed Jace away and he stormed off.

Baela decided then she wouldn't marry a man who was desperately in love with someone else. She was not her mother.

@hotd-bigbang

[demon-kumo]

𝕮𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖌

➤ ɢɪʏᴜ ᴛᴏᴍɪᴏᴋᴀ x ᴋɪᴀɴɴᴀ ᴋᴏᴍᴏʀɪ (ᴏᴄ)

➤ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ʜᴀꜱʜɪʀᴀ ʜᴀꜱ ꜰᴀʟʟᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ.

➤ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛ: ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

➤ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ

➤ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ/ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜱʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ!

➤ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴏʀ & ᴏᴄ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ: ɴᴜɴᴇᴢꜱ-ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ

➤ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏʀ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ɢɪʏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴀɴɴᴀ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ, ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ꜱʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴏꜰᴛᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ꜱᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ!

➤ Setting background information - this is something to help the headcannons.

➤ Kianna Komori, the last vampire to exist during the Taisho era was found and became allies with Tamayo and Yushiro. Since Tamayo buys blood Kianna can drink blood from vials to sustain herself. Also, Kianna is being hunted down by the demon king, who is likely to try and devour her since she is immortal but can walk in the sun.

➤ When Tamayo allied with the Demon Slayer Corps to help defeat Muzan Kianna was placed under protection.

➤ However, because she was a vampire many were weary of her. Kagaya didn't doubt her though but to ease the tension, he placed her under the care of the hashira.

➤ The one he sent to watch over her was Giyu because he wasn't training anyone. Not going to lie, he thought at first that this was a complete waste of his time.

➤ However, he was proven wrong when Kianna arrived. He was entranced by her cat-like gold eyes and gentle auburn hair. He was told she was a vampire so he didn't find it odd that she was pale but what he had found strange was her clothing.

➤ There wasn't anything wrong with it, in fact, he enjoyed looking at her cause she was so cute, but he had never seen European clothing like this since he spent most of his time avoiding people. He didn't dwell on it too much though since he was used to seeing flashy or odd fashion choices from her fellow Hashira.

➤ I think Giyu would be a little off put by her at first since she held a blank face most of the time. (It reminded him of himself) Although unlike him Kianna made an effort to be polite and ask questions, making sure she didn't do anything to anger him. This was where his interest in her started to spark faintly, finding her kind and politeness reminding him of Tanjiro but on a much lighter scale.

➤ Kianna however was more interested in preparing him for battle. Since she was able to heal and had similar abilities to a demon, Kianna offered to be his sparring partner. At first, Giyu was hesitant and if not a tad suspicious but in the end agreed since he either way had to prepare (Also he didn't want to deal with Shinazugawa's attitude).

➤ It was a very close battle, despite Giyu having more combat experience Kianna made up for it with her agility and strength, however, Giyu did win in the end.

➤ In the short time before facing Muzan that they spent together Giyu truly warmed up to Kianna and she did the same. She found that they both were similar, even going as far as to explain what she hid under the bandages when he asked.

➤ Time skip to when Tanjiro momentarily became the demon king, Kianna had run over alongside Nezuko to help. When Tanjiro went to try and attack Giyu, Kianna took the blow for him. While Giyu was in shock Kianna tried to reason with Tanjiro and try to bring him back to his senses.

➤ This was the moment when Giyu fell in love with Kianna, he viewed her as his savior.

➤ After everything was resolved, Kianna decided to stay with Giyu, seeing as he was the one whom she was closest with. However, she hadn't realized that it was the worst mistake she would ever make before it was too late.

➤ As the two lived together the closer they got, Kianna knew that there would come a day when Giyu would die before the age of 25 because of his mark, so she had made the choice to keep him a friend and only a friend. Kianna knew better than to fall in love with him but it seemed that Giyu wouldn't allow that.

➤ Giyu noticed Kianna growing more and more distant as the days went by and his countdown would come. With the days they would have sweets she baked or dinner she cooked her smiles became less.

➤ At one point Giyu did find out that it was because he would die soon but Kianna would live forever. No! He and Kianna were supposed to be together forever... the days of peace should last forever.

➤ So he did something he never thought he would ever do, he allowed himself to chain her up. To be honest it was the last thing he ever wanted to do. But he needed her to stay still so he could become a vampire.

➤ Giyu was willing to do anything to stay with her, even if it meant becoming a vampire himself. So that is what he did, he became a bloodsucker. Once he had become one, they could spend eternity together.

➤ He kept her locked in a room, confined and away from the light. There were days when Kianna would hiss and snap at him for being foolish to turn himself into a vampire and other days where she would sit and bask in sorrowful silence. Those days he hated, since he couldn't hear her voice at all.

➤ For Giyu there would be days where he would sit her in his lap and just hold her, other days he would take her out into the sun and just allow them to bask in the sunlit sky. Then there were days where he would force them to take a bath together in the hot springs or days he would kiss her neck even though she didn't want him to.

➤ In Giyu's eyes he was merely securing their future of happiness. He couldn't allow her to slip between his fingers. His savior, his goddess, the one he would always want to be with. He wasn't letting her go.

➤ As they both sat in the grass outside their home in an isolated field for peace he stared at her, taking in her beauty. He would never let go of her, he would spend eternity with her, just like he promised her.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Epilogue

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: sensuality

A/N: What's that sound? It's my heart breaking to finally say goodbye to Kix and Maree. Thank you to all my readers who've stuck with me this long! I love you all.

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Six standard months later

“Safe travels, Dr. Finnall,” Brenko said. “While you’re away, I’ll finish cataloging the rest of the artifacts from Hisseen.”

“Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite research assistant?” she asked.

“I’m your only research assistant,” he pointed out. “See you in a couple weeks.”

Maree waved farewell and went to load a few last-minute items into the Meson Martinet’s shuttle. Reveth helped, lifting the heaviest bags with ease with her powerful mechanical arm.

“I still think it’s a mistake for you to go to headquarters of the New Republic Rangers,” Reveth grumbled. “What if the Spinward Patrol recognizes the shuttle and disintegrates you?”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Maree said. “The Rangers are even more scared of Baba than Kix is.”

“I never said I was scared,” Kix objected, entering the shuttle with his small satchel. 

“You didn’t have to,” Reveth said. “We could all tell.”

The Twi’lek exited the shuttle and sealed the hatch as Kix muttered under his breath. If he’d been worried that Reveth and Maree would resent each other based on their history with him, those fears paled in comparison to the reality that the two had become fast friends who told each other everything and held weekly holo-sabbac nights with Valsi. It was frankly unfair. Maree was already conducting a stealth campaign to convince Valsi and Tane to leave the Archive and join the crew.

Truth be told, the Martinet was starting to feel a little crowded, but Ithano had a plan. He was building a fleet from old Separatist ships that Kix helped him locate, and a few nights earlier, Quiggold had casually mentioned the possibility of making Kix the captain of a cruiser. If Ithano decided to go through with it, there would be more than enough room for Maree’s growing collection of Seppie junk—er, “artifacts of incalculable historic value and significance.” 

Of course, he wasn't sure how much Brenko might object to being pulled away from the Martinet. He had a tendency to flush to a deep emerald green whenever he spoke to Reeg Brosna, and the Arcona frequently had a dazed, starry-eyed expression that had nothing to do with his ocular biology. Maree’s tactics had been completely unsubtle as she seized any opportunity to throw the two together. If Ithano did make Kix a captain, he wouldn't be surprised if Maree tried to get Reeg installed as first mate.

He launched the shuttle, and Maree began to input the coordinates for Adelphi.

“I still can’t believe you stole Brenko to be your research assistant,” Kix said.

“I am a pirate, after all,” Maree said with a shrug as Kix flipped the lever, and the shuttle jumped into hyperspace.

“You have two PhDs,” Eema said severely as she opened every window in the house to let out the billowing smoke. “How is it possible that something as simple as baking cookies eludes you?”

“It wasn’t covered in my coursework,” Maree said, gagging on the acrid scent of charred sugar.

She dumped the tray of scorched biscuits into the sink and turned on the water to put out any remaining embers.

“I’m impressed that this batch actually caught fire,” Baba said in a much milder tone. “How did you manage that?”

“I got distracted,” Maree said, heat rising in her cheeks.

She shot an accusatory glance at Kix, who was leaning against the wall and looking rather pleased with himself.

“Ugh, in my kitchen?” Eema demanded.

“Right in front of your salad,” Baba confirmed with a twinkle.

“Oh, stars, Moms, we weren’t doing that!” Maree exclaimed.

“Not this time, anyway,” Kix said.

“Traitor,” Maree grumbled. “Remind me why I brought you here, again?”

“Because you wanted me to charm your mothers enough that your Baba wouldn’t blow our ship out of the sky,” Kix said. “Do you think it’s working?”

“It was probably working better before I turned the kitchen into a smoldering ruin of despair and regret,” Maree said.

“As if his masculine wiles would work on us,” Eema snorted.

“Maree seems to like them,” Baba said. “No accounting for taste, I suppose.”

She winked at Kix, and he grinned back at her. Despite Maree’s reservations, Baba had taken a single look at Kix and practically adopted him on the spot. The two drank spotchka and swapped war stories, and Baba gleefully told Kix a few of the more embarrassing anecdotes from Maree’s childhood. One night, they sat on the front porch and spoke quietly for many, many hours, long after Maree and Eema had gone to sleep, and when Maree awoke the next morning, she found Kix curled up next to her, his face completely relaxed and looking more at peace than she had ever seen him.

When Maree had somewhat nervously broached the topic of piracy, Baba simply laughed and asked, “Did you think everything I did back in my Ranger days was strictly legal? Sweetie, this is the Outer Rim. If I went chasing every pirate and smuggler that crossed my path, I’d never get a night’s sleep again.”

Eema had been slower to warm up to Kix. She’d been polite and welcoming, of course, but she withheld judgment until she had a chance to see how luminously happy the clone made Maree. 

That night, Kix confessed to Maree that Eema terrified him. “I thought you said Baba was the one we had to worry about.”

“I said Baba might kill us,” she corrected him as she climbed into bed. “Eema will just make us wish we were dead.”

“Great,” Kix replied. 

He slid under the covers next to her, and she snuggled close to his body, resting her head on his bare shoulder and draping her leg over his thighs.

“She’ll come around,” Maree promised. “She’s just not used to the idea of me being in a relationship.”

“Have you never brought anyone home to meet them before?” he asked, kissing her forehead.

Maree shook her head. “This is uncharted territory for all of us.”

“I feel better already,” Kix said drily.

“I know how to make you feel better,” she said mischievously, stroking her hands down his abdomen.

He squirmed away. “Are you insane? What if they hear us?”

“What’s wrong? Is the big, strong, fearsome warrior afraid of a couple of retirees?”

“Yes!” Kix said frankly. “You know we clones have genetically enhanced survival instincts.”

“I guess you’ll just have to use your genetically enhanced stealth abilities and be very, very quiet,” she said, sliding down his body.

“Oh, kriff,” he gasped as she licked up the inside of his thigh.

“Shhh,” she soothed, snaking a hand up his chest to rest reassuringly over his heart. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Now that I think about it, we clones were also taught not to fear death,” he said, tangling his hands in her hair and guiding her head toward his stiffening cock.

“Such a heroic sacrifice,” Maree whispered, drawing him into her mouth.

Kix bit back a groan as he sank into her soft warmth. “Anything for the Republic.”

[cocowinterpup]

Who Knew ~ Diavolo

"May I have this dance?" His silky smooth voice and charming golden eyes had enchanted them from the moment they'd arrived. The questioning amber shimmered amongst black feathers and gold lace. They wordlessly took his outstretched hand, slack-jawed and staring. He swept them in close to him, hips gently swaying together.

The pair gracefully spun under golden chandeliers. Soft violins accompanied their dance. The party seemed to move around them, the Prince and his partner an alluring centerpiece to the ball. Diavolo's classic white tie caught a small draft, lifting lightly off his chest through an elegant tailcoat. His cherry red hair shimmered under the amber lights. A playful smile danced on his lips. The black feathers of his mask gently caressed his oaky cheeks.

"You're quite the liar, you know." He teased, lips curling.

"I'm sorry?" MC replied, confusion painted in their features.

"I recall you said you couldn't dance, yet you seem to have bewitched my guests." He chuckled. MC's attention broke from his eyes, taking in the room around them. The entire room of demons was spectating their dance. A sprinkling of partners were taking the floor to join them. A few jealous eyes locked with MC's from behind feathered masks. Somehow, the Prince's gentle touch made the faces, that normally would have paralyzed the human, seem meaningless. They were no more threatening than the many paintings around the room.

"I hate to correct you, my King, but I'm sure they're looking at you." He laughed at their words.

"We make quite the fetching pair, don't we?"

"I'd say so." MC hummed, leaning their head into his chest. His arm wound around the small of their back, pulling their bodies flush together. Steps and breath in sync, the two swayed in place, turning ever so slightly. MC relaxed into their partner, relishing the subtle rise and fall of his chest. 

"I miss you, mio cuore" He murmured, his baritone voice sending vibrations gently through MC's cheek. MC tensed. They lifted their head, finding his eyes void of their usual light, staring through them.

"What?" Their hand caressed his cheek, panic flooding their veins. "No... Not again... Please, no!" He gradually became too heavy for MC to support, the two of them collapsing to the golden floors, color draining from the room. They laid his head on their lap, holding his hand close to their chest. Wine red roses bloomed from his chest. His paling lips parted, freeing bloody spit.

"No NO!" MC screamed. The room was empty and vast. There were no longer walls to stop their voice. Party goers silently laughed behind masks. Fans over lips taunting the pair. Sobs shook their body, heavy down feather sheets draped over their frame. Plush pillows caught their tears. The smell of him still lingered in the bedding. MC curled further into the cushioning, memories of their lover staining their mind.

"I'll protect you forever, mio cuore. I promise." His whispered in between kisses. He held them close, his arms wrapping around them completely.

They clamped their hands over their ears, screaming into their knees as memories of waking up next to him stabbed their heart. He said forever. He promised. This wasn't supposed to happen.

"You're nothing but a leech. Stop ruining his reputation. You don't deserve him."  The words of MC's peers returned. 

He only likes you because of that program. He doesn't actually love you, you know that, right?"

"He'll leave you."

"You'll loose him. Count your blessings before he realizes his mistake."

"You'll only be a burden to him."

"You'll be the death of me, mio cuore."  Their eyes widened at the sound of his signature chuckle. Yet, they didn't see his joyous eyes. They saw his lifeless ones. The cuts and bruises decorating his once flawless skin. The misshapen curve in his elbow. The root of his wing where it used to connect to his back.  Piles of lesser demon corpses framed his body. He had given a valiant effort, but even the Demon Prince could be overtaken by a mob. 

MC had limped towards him, throwing themselves down before their king one last time. Sobs and screams wracked their body, grief and guilt flooding their system. "YOU DAMN LIAR! WAKE UP, DAMN IT!" They cried. They gripped their chest, pain tearing at their heart. If only they'd been stronger. If only they had been more useful. If only they hadn't let him defend them. If only they'd never met him.

He was supposed to live forever. He was supposed to grow into an incredible ruler, one that inspired justice and peace. And here he lay, lifeless in a filthy alley like a diseased rat. Anger possessed MC. They kicked and scratched and punched at the corpses around them, making a larger mess of the scene. Papers scattered across the corpses with cursed names scrawled on them. MC would never forget that heart stopping handwriting. 

"Bivium"

MC should have been the only person to know that word. How did these demons find it?

Diavolo's true name.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, Lucifer and Barbatos appeared at the mouth of the alleyway. They rushed to MC's side as the human collapsed back to their knees. Lucifer followed them down, bringing their head into his shoulder. His gloved hands gently grasped MC, starkly contrasting the tense rippling of his chest and arms. Black feathers cascaded through the air, the sound of wings tearing through skin. Through the storm, MC caught a glimpse of shining golden eyes and a wide, toothy smile. Screaming filled the air once more, all three of the mourners contributing. The two demons were far beyond any humanoid form, Barbatos tearing apart the already deceased demons. He had given up looking for those who'd survived and settled for decimating the corpses left behind. 

MC couldn't bear to remember anymore. They could feel their heart tearing. The smell of his cologne suffocated them. The touch of his lips was still tender against their own. His firm grasp still lingered on their palms. His golden eyes still burned into theirs. His loving voice still hummed in their ears, "You'll be the death of me, mio cuore."

Their voice cracked, fighting for words. "I love you, my king."

[eboshishusbandwinkwink]

Chrissy Cunningham x fem!reader x Eddie Munson

"If all of their kings had their queens on the throne..."

Warnings: Bullying, trauma, Panick attacks, mentions of alcohol, weed, and tobacco.

Lmk abt spelling mistakes or sum

Summary: All Eddie wanted was to sell some drugs and then go back home. Little did he know he'd end up kissing Reader, who was also dating the queen of Hawkins.

Feel free to request:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie sighed as he made his way towards the giant house where the party was going on. Someone wanted to get drugs so some people could get high, but he honestly didn't know why he was being here beside his usual excuse.

I need the money. He told himself as he stepped into the house and looked around slowly. He looked through the whole place to look for the one who'd ordered him there.

What he wasn't expecting was for him to run into you and Chrissy in a quiet corner. You both had a drink in hand, and your arm was wrapped around Chrissys waist, holding her close as you placed a kiss on her lips.

When you pulled away, you saw Eddie, who was staring at you both.

He quickly turned on his heels and walked off so he wouldn't look like a creep, though he probably already did.

He flinched lightly when he felt a tight grip in his arms, seeing you standing behind him as you pulled him closer.

He felt his whole body heat up with how nervous he was, your hand moving up his jacket and to his neck.

Nothing was said as you leaned in before pressing your lips against his, and he could taste the cherry chapstick, not knowing if it was Chrissy's or yours.

Shit. He thought to himself as he moved closer to make it more comfortable for the both of you.

Once you had pulled away again, a smirk formed on your face as you lucked your lips. "You taste good, Munson.", you spoke loudly, though through the loud music, you were still hardly audible.

Hardly a minute later, you blew him a kiss before you walked back to your girlfriend, telling her about every single second of the encounter.

Not even two days later, on Monday in school, Eddie avoided both of you like the plague, and you found that adorable at first.

Though, that changed when you realized that he struggled to properly function in and out of class.

He always looked panicked and scared. When you looked at him, his face turned pale, and he avoided looking at you for the rest of the class. He barely spoke, and when he did, his voice was shaky and broken. So... you decided to speak to Chrissy.

"Hey, pumpkin.", you said as you approached Chrissy in the girls' bathroom that you usually hid in so you could cuddle and give each other kisses.

She smiled and immediately went to hug you. "Hi. Is everything okay? You look so worried...", she mumbled softly and you placed your forehead on hers gently.

"It's about Munson.", you said as you closed your eyes. "I think I overwhelmed him. Or scared him, perhaps."

She tilted her head softly and caressed your cheek. "Baby, he's just nervous. He's gonna be okay. Just give him some time, and he'll surely approach eventually."

You shook her head softly. "Chrissy, my dear, he goes pale the moment I look at him, doesn't speak in class, and when he does, he sounds like he's about to cry. But seemingly only when he's in classes with me, because others said he's fine when I'm not around."

Chrissy listened to your explanation before she nodded softly, her hands gently combing through your hair. "Let's talk to him then, okay? I'll pretend to buy drugs from him, bring you and then we'll talk this out."

You looked at her and smiled softly. "I love you so much, Chrissy."

She chuckled and kissed you softly, basically trying to kiss away all your worries like she always did.

On the same day, you received a call from Chrissy after school. Eddies place, 6 pm.

You sighed as you got yourself ready, pulling on a comfortable pair of demin jeans, a white shirt, a similar shaded jacket, and a pair of white shoes. You loved this outfit. Not because it made you look particularly good, but Chrissy liked it. And considering the way Eddie looked at you when you wore it to school, he also liked it.

You then made your way to Eddies place where Chrissy waited for you with a smile on her face, waving once she saw you.

You happily walked up to her and placed a kiss on her head as a greeting. You were horribly nervous, but you wouldn't show her that. There was no way. She'd just get worried and make you go home. You couldn't have that.

Moments later, Chrissy knocked on the trailer door and waited. Eddie took a hot minute to open the door since he'd been in the shower barely a minute ago and had to slip into his clothes in a Speedy Gonzales way.

He smiled at first but seemed to be sweating all over when he spotted you. "Y-ou're both here-", he said, his voice cracking lightly.

You smiled and crossed your arms. "I can wait out here if you'd prefer that."

He quickly shook his head and made space for the two of you to get in. "N-Not at all! No, it's okay. You can come in. Please, don't hesitate."

Chrissy got into the trailer, and you followed her quite excitedly. You'd never been in Eddies trailer before, so to you, this was like getting a little look inside of that young man's head.

Your eyes wandered slowly as you took in the trailers decoration. You hardly could see anything of it, though, considering that everything was dirty and there were either clothes or trash everywhere.

And Eddies room wasn't exactly any better. You weren't judging him in the slightest, but it did make you want to help him clean up. It'd be good for his clogged and confused mind, surely. At least that was what you had learned over the past few months that you'd lived alone and kept your place clean and perfectly comfortable.

And then you saw the mattress. Again, you weren't judging, but you had a feeling you'd shiver if you were to ask Eddie just what those stains were.

Eddie cleared his throat and pulled out the huge lunch box that he usually stored his drugs in. "So.... what were you thinking and how much?" He asked the two of you, and before Chrissy could say anything, you decided to speak up.

"Before we do that...", you started gently and smiled. "I think you should sit down for a moment cuz l've got some questions."

You could see the way Eddies jaw clenched at your words, but like you'd recommended, he sat down. It almost looked like he was a little dizzy.

You sat down as well and put your hands over your own knees after pulling them towards yourself ever so slightly. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna scold you or anything. You didn't do anything wrong after all."

You could see that saying that had hardly helped at all, and it made you feel slightly bad, but you had to speak about this. You liked Eddie and seeing him so tense and scared all the time made your heart ache in a way you only felt when Chrissy wasn't feeling well.

"So... in the past few days, you seemed a little unwell. What's that about?", you asked as carefully as you possibly could, though that seemed to kinda only worsen the whole situation.

Eddie opened his mouth to reply but it stayed agape for a few seconds before he, visibly, bit down on his tongue as his eyes teared up.

It was like you'd unlocked something. As if you'd taken the key to his heart and opened up all those feelings that were stored in him for years.

And when the first tear was shed, it was over. Eddie was sobbing, while gasping for air and clutching his chest.

Your whole body perked up since you knee damn well what was happening right now. You've had many panick attacks in your life before, and seeing this now made you feel horrible.

You quickly stood up and commanded Chrisdy to get to your car and get a special something before you sat by Eddie and carefully embraced him so he could move away if he wanted to. He didn't.

You weren't even sure if he noticed considering the way his hands were clutching onto his hair and his nails digging into his skull.

As you held him, your hand moved to gently caress his hands, trying to carefully remove them from his head so he wouldn't hurt himself, no matter if accidentally or on purpose. You wanted neither.

Eventually, Chrissy came back and put your keys onto the table before she crouched in front of Eddie slowly. You managed to get the males hands out of his hair, which was thanks to him being distracted by what Chrissy was holding in her hands.

A stuffed animal. A plush bunny in a dark grey shade with a small smile sown onto his face by whoever had made it. She held it up and wiggled its arms before speaking the way she would when you had a panick attack, and she tried to distract you.

He kept his eyes on the bunny as Chrissy spoke through it. "What's making you upset?" Her voice was a little more high-pitched than usual, and she giggled lightly. "Let me cheer you up!"

Eddie looked at it for a moment before he let out a shaky breath. "I'm... really scared." He mumbled softly, and Chrissy tilted the bunny's head softly. "Why?"

Eddie looked from the bunny to Chrissy and from her to you. "Being a bad person? I mean... I just... let (Y/n) kiss me. I let her kiss me." He said, paying extra attention when he said 'me'.

"But what's the problem with that? She liked it.", Chrissy explained as she lowered the bunny slowly.

Eddies eyes went double its size as he looked at you again. "You liked it?"

A chuckle escaped you as you put an arm around him and nodded. "Of course. Eddie, I kissed you. Not the other way around.", you reminded him and his cheeks immediately flushed red.

"But you- I mean- You're with Chrissy. A-And you're so popular. If... someone found out about this they'd... hate you."

You stopped him by gently taking his chin in your hands and turning your face towards him. "Eddie. I like you and Chrissy. I know it sounds weird and kinda like from a movie but it's true. And... Chrissy likes you and me too."

Eddie looked away from you slowly, the tears slowly drying down as your hand caressed his back. "I... I see."

You took his hand and squeezed it lightly. "You should lay down for a bit. I don't want you to pass out here."

He looked at Chrissy, and she gave a slight nod as if to say he could trust you, and he gave a soft nod to that as well. "Yeah... maybe I should."

You slowly took the bunny from Chrissy and carefully gave it to Eddie so he could hold it, which he did as he stood up to go lay down.

Chrissy and you exchanged a glance, and while Chrissy made sure Eddie would stay asleep, you started to clean up, only throwing stuff away if it was obviously trash.

It took you about an hour to finish outside of Eddies room, but cleaning up his room specifically without waking him turned out to be one hell of a challenge.

But you found a way. What that would be?

Chrissy laid down beside the sleeping male and hugged his head so one ear was covered by her chest, and the other was gently covered by her hand. And then you got to it.

Putting dirty clothes to a free spot, gathering all the trash and putting it into the bin, taking magazines, and putting them away safely into a shelf. You even put some drugs you found back into the lunchbox and then put it aside carefully.

All together, this took you about half an hour, adding about five minutes for all the kisses you gave Chrissy and Eddie in the meantime.

And yes, you involved Eddie in your gentle affection. He deserved and needed it.

Once you were done, you brought the trash bags away, before finally returning. When you did, Eddie was awake and clearly confused as to what in the world happened in his place.

You smiled and sat by him and Chrissy happily. "(Y/n) cleaned up a bit. She said it'll help you with your mental health."

"Not exactly." You replied and laughed. "I said it might help. I do hope it does since I want you to feel better."

Eddie nodded softly and rubbed his eyes for a moment. "Thanks a lot. I don't think I could've done that."

You chuckled and placed a small kiss on his cheek. "Just call me next time. I'll gladly help you out again."

"So..." Eddie started as he looked from you to Chrissy. "About earlier..."

You smiled and later his back lightly. "Don't pressure yourself. Make no decisions without being sure you're okay with it, got it? I mean, I'm sure it's gonna be weird to all of us if we were to become a couple, but I think it'dbe worth it. And if that means I need to give you time, I will."

Eddie nodded softly. "So... I have one more question.", he mumbled as he looked up at the ceiling. "Which one of you uses Cherry chapstick? It's been bothering me ever since the party."

Chrissy and you looked at each other before you grinned a little. "The one who's wearing it right now."

Eddie raised a brow as he looked at you. "And who is wearing it?"

You leaned closer to him slowly. "Try and find out, pretty boy."

Only a few seconds later, Eddies lips were on yours, but this time, your kiss held longer than it did at the party. Much longer.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

Masterlist:

[lwbu]

Love Will Bury Us

Chapter 5

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

MASTERLIST

pairing: aemond targaryen x targaryen!oc

summary: Alyssa Targaryen cherished chaos, its presence a comforting reminder that she was alive and breathing. But when dragons danced and fire erupted, her chaos was no longer her own. As the last of control slipped through her fingers, a hand came in its place—cold, possessive and unforgiving, and it belonged to Aemond Targaryen.  

content & warnings: f!oc, targcest, so much tension it hurts, slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood and violence, spoilers for hotd, canon character death, morally grey characters, additional tags to be added

word count: 4.3k

notes: it’s my birthday so i’m treating myself and posting earlier. y’all know what’s coming in the next chapter; enjoy this one. english is not my first language. all feedback is very appreciated.  

also on ao3 and wattpad.

The sky was still adorned by the faint glow of the moon when Alyssa mounted Blindfyre and ascended to the clouds. Trembling palms clad in black leather grasped onto the saddle; eyes focused on no particular spot, ready to take lead. The dragon let out a heavy breath as his wings first brushed through the biting breeze, the enormous body climbing up, darker than the night itself. Finally, after what felt like ages, they were once more together—heartbeats in sync, eyes as one, minds entangled with an unbreakable force. Fingers stroked heated scales, a small attempt to break through the wall of tense perturbation. To soothe him or herself, Alyssa wasn't sure, but knew they both needed the gentle alleviation of their anxiety with equal desperation.

She'd never enjoyed being separated from the beast. Even as a child not yet comprehending the bond they shared, she'd rarely ever be seen away from the pits for long. To know that Blindfyre had been left behind in the capital, a place that brought no positive feelings, with him never quite comfortable amongst other dragons yet forced to accept their company, made her ache. If only they could forever be connected—truly become one being—she would no longer know concern and fear; would never have to leave him alone.

They left the poisonous ambience of King's Landing behind, soaring through the sky in a rapid pace without once looking back. She felt Blindfyre relax the farther they went. Similarly, her own strained mind appeared to have, at last, found a small trace peace—right there, in the pale eyes of the moon alone, in its subtle luminosity and comforting stroke of assurance. They left the Red Keep behind, yes, but the dread and confusion persisted, long since accommodated in Alyssa's chest, sprawled out among ribs and squeezing brutally. It was yet another battle for a breath, and so she kept fighting against the crushing pressure, desperately taking in whatever oxygen she could.

She'd been a fool. Greedily, she had allowed herself a victory that now left a bitter taste in her mouth; stupidly, she had thought this one time would satiate her. And yet her heart was conflicted, craving more and dreading it with equal fervour, urging her to both leave and return. Alyssa, with her judgment clouded, had unleashed the forbidden thoughts from the depths of perfectly restrained desires—now, the consequences were too much to handle with any semblance of equilibrium. Gone was the feigned composure she'd wanted to remain strong and solid in Aemond's presence. Gone was the indifference, shattered by the quivering pressure of ferocity that had, at some point long ago, formed inside of her mind and grown hungry for release. Gone was reason—madness, she knew, was all there was left. To allow herself a taste of freedom had perhaps been the biggest mistake of her life—now, she'd be left forever paying the cost in the form of craving for more.

It was pointless to dwell on it, to replay it time and time again, to keep thinking of the sensations she'd experienced in the darkness of silent corridors. It was abhorrent to be able to only focus on the memory of him, sat in the corner, hot, overwhelming fury seeping out and swallowing the chamber. It was preposterous to be able to see it so vividly when the moment was long gone. And yet his wrath, so controlled yet still palpable, offered more than she'd hoped for—more than she could bear—and was alarmingly addictive.

The book she'd taken into hands was a heavy weight on her arm, now hidden inside a small sack she'd strapped over shoulders. If Aemond had noticed her take it—and Alyssa not once doubted he had—he'd said nothing at all. She understood now that he rarely ever let things he hadn't planned for happen: this, perhaps, meant she'd once more acted in the way he had predicted. Whatever his intentions were, even the stretching distance did little to erase the nefariousness that had surrounded him. To believe his motives pure would be an idiotic mistake. To think he simply let her take the book would be a ruination.

Aemond Targaryen did things for a reason; always so calculated and cruel, and of unknown yet capabilities. He was an enigma and a threat both—or perhaps none; perhaps something else entirely. When it was a momentary freedom he'd offered—a freedom to leave and take something with her, to mock him again and hiss taunts, to have the last word—it, too, had a price. Perhaps that was the worst of all things: the awareness that, in this allowance, he must have had some unspoken goal. It would remain within the clutches of secrecy until he decided otherwise.

The book appeared heavier than before.

The journey itself was long and arduous, but they had covered the distance faster than Alyssa realised. The welcoming sight of Dragonstone in all its glory was accompanied by a familiarly odd screech, the lean body of Caraxes a red spot on the milky pinks and oranges of the horizon as he wandered about. Blindfyre answered the sound with one of his own, his entire body shaking with its intensity, and Alyssa couldn't help a small smile that sneaked onto her lips. This—high in the air, the two beasts together—was intimate and warm and home. Though the times she'd ascend to the air along with her father were long gone, they could never be forgotten; now served as a sweet reminder of childlike felicity. Caraxes flew closer, though not close enough for their figures to collide, long cognisant of Blindfyre's vision disability, and circled around the smaller dragon, wings proud and regal. Caraxes had little love for others of his own kind—a mirror image of his rider—and yet for those he had a glimpse of it, he never shied away from expressing in a secretive manner that belonged to him alone. A brief brush of two long tails, a heavy exhale, and then the Blood Wyrm was gone as quickly as he'd appeared, soon only a small dot on the sky.

The descent left Alyssa breathless and understanding this: Blindfyre had never before been this weak. When he landed on the ground, his limbs lost balance, black torso only just managing not to crash down and into the edged surface, wings attempting and failing to once more lift him up. Alyssa's grip on the saddle loosened, hands instead placed on the dragon's neck, eyes wide with terror. Blindfyre let out a roar so devastating she wheezed in pain. A sudden dizziness took over her head; in panic, Alyssa recognised that for the shortest of moments, there was nothing at all but for emptiness, and why, why couldn't she see? The dragon writhed on the ground, the lack of stability almost severe enough to make the girl fall off. Desperately, she held onto the beast; held to never let go, never again, not even once. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” whispered repeatedly, yet it could not be enough. She felt him struggle underneath her frame, his breathing irregular, smoke seeping from widened jaw.

It was long after that Blindfyre's body stopped shaking. Still, Alyssa kept holding him, forehead resting against his skin, cheeks wet, eyes shut so tightly it hurt.

How stupid she'd been to think she knew true fear; how foolish to believe there was nothing more to it than a cruel hand on the throat. If paralysing fright indeed existed, it was this—this very moment. If there were sinister nightmares to come, they would take the shape of the present and haunt her forever. She'd see this every time her eyes closed; feel it when she lay amidst silks; hear the chilling tune in silence—and it'd never go away.

“How do I help? Please, please,” Alyssa demanded weakly, her own voice unrecognisable. “What can I do to make it stop? I'll take your pain, take it as my own, please, I—”

“Alyssa.”

She wished to never acknowledge the intrusive words. Her murmurs echoed through the island, heart pounding and breaking more and more with each breath. Blindfyre remained unresponsive, head rested on the ground, still as stone.

“There must be something. Something I can do. Something to help.” Something, something, anything.

“You cannot help him.” Why, why would the voice get louder? Why was she not allowed solitude? Why were her tears cruelly put on display? “Not like this.”

“How, then?” Finally, she relented and looked at her father. He was watching, still a safe distance away, gaze neither fully focused nor completely detached. Alyssa grimaced. “How?”

At times, it was maddening that he'd always show up to find her at her at her worst. Her blood boiled, anger flowing and flowing and drowning her mind; consciousness long lost, grasped with claws stained by rage and shredded to pieces. With the very last of rationality, Alyssa thought back to the skyline—they should have stayed there, she realised, and never come back. Then, the pain would remain theirs alone, a secret shared by two identical hearts and never spoken of.

With averted gaze, Alyssa unfastened the straps of the saddle; soon, she felt hands pulling at her body more than she saw them, vision still blurred. Fingers squeezed into her shoulder, a palm came to her cheek, but there was no warmth—she was so, so cold.

“Must I really have you locked in your chambers in order to keep you from running off?”

If only she could scream; let out a dragonlike roar; release all that weighted on her chest. She'd do it for all of the realm to hear, for the ground to shake underneath soles, for the stars to tremble. If only she could bleed it all out and be left with no trace of unease—she'd do it in a heartbeat.

“I didn't run off. I told Rhaenyra that—”

A lazily lifted palm was enough to cut her off. “I have no need for your lies.” He pulled her into his side, holding her so similarly to the way he'd done long ago; finally, the chilling sensation reluctantly began to relent. “You will not be leaving again.”

“This is what you want to discuss now?” Alyssa gritted her teeth, trying to move away—his embrace was too tight to evade.

His grip turned steel; keeping her as close as possible, Daemon moved away from the dragon, dragging her along. The stretching distance burned in her veins and shattered whatever residue solace there was.

“You need to let him rest, dōna hāedar,” he said, her useless efforts to fight him falling short with the disregard. “Do not try to come see him again today. I'll have him tended to, but there's no need for you to be there.”

She saw fire. How dare he try to keep her away when it hurt so much? Her tears felt hot, scorching and biting into skin, and leaving nothing but ashes; they wouldn't stop.

“No.” Alyssa's voice was weak, but not completely stripped of obstinacy. Feet brushed the pavement, knees giving up. “No, no, no . . .”

Don't make me leave. Don't keep me away. I'll crawl my way back.

Her chamber was as much a refuge as could be offered. A bed, silky and soft and smelling of honey, big enough to crawl upon and disappear in. Fireplace that always burned to eradicate the last of coldness she'd never loved. Bookshelves—so many of them they remained a constant mess—all the same height and dark shade, and filled with books of various origins. There were ones of her childhood, once read by Laena Velaryon in the late hours of darkening skies; ones that she'd learned from, the words leaving her mouth so odd and yet always accompanied by her father's proud smile when she would manage to pronounce them correctly; books with the most bewitching descriptions of picturesque landscapes she'd never see; books of stories entirely unfamiliar to those who had yet to experience the sentiments they spoke of.

One book from the secret library of the Red Keep.

Alyssa lay atop the pillows, head buried so deep between them it would surely be invisible to any intruders. She was still weary, bones aching with something unknown and exhaustingly intense. It hurt to keep her eyes open and hurt even more to shut them close. Something near her temple throbbed persistently, eliciting a permanent wince upon the pale face.

Inid had come see her twice, both visits as brief as possible. The maid had brushed her hair, put a cold cloth to her forehead and cheeks, helped her out of the suffocating leathers. She'd been unusually quiet, her touch oddly hesitant, head kept low—Alyssa assumed, irritably, that her father must have instructed the girl to not stay with her for too long. He had sent her to her rooms and, like a prisoner, put a guard to the door, demanding she stay and rest. Just to defy him, Alyssa had stubbornly refused the embrace of dreams, staying awake within the confinement of the walls despite the exhaustion.

Blindfyre was back in the pit, a lone shadow against marble. The dragonkeepers had indeed gone to see him—all they had done, however, was inspecting his state from afar, the beast threatening to attack with his vicious fangs exposed. He would be well, they'd said, and only needed to rest. And yet she still felt his trembling, heard the screeching, saw his fatigue; still sensed his pain and suffering, and would not be satisfied with petty assurances of those who did not know the dragon as well as she did. To be there with him was the only comfort she'd be able to offer, and yet this, too, had been taken away from her. A bile of wrath formed in her throat. It was a mistake to believe her incapable of doing whatever she pleased—by the time the moon returned, sneaking out would prove easy enough.

Until the stars splattered upon the horizon, all she was left with was the memory of green and violet flames, and the unknown book now calling to her. How easy it would be to let her hands pry the pages open, fingers brush through the paper, eyes take in the words that he could not. And yet it felt like a forbidden step—more so than those traced amongst dark halls of the Red Keep. And if Aemond had willingly let her take it, a stolen treasure, surely there was something inherently wrong about it.

But it was right there—

When she moved, it was with an absent mind. Hesitant feet brought her to the shelf, the one closest to the large window and now surrounded by something dark and strange. Fingers moved to the black spine, just about touching it, and she held her breath.

Alyssa's heart almost jumped out of her chest when the doors opened with a loud thud against the wall.

She had expected Rhaena to, at some point, storm inside and cheerily chatter about the visit to King's Landing, the announcement of her betrothal, some stray cat she'd found abandoned around the castle and sneaked into her bedchamber—anything her curious mind had fixated on. It had, in a moment unknown, become a constant in their lives. And somehow, when her eyes sparkled, Alyssa always felt utterly at ease.

What she hadn't expected was for Rhaena to look as though someone had pushed a dagger between the ribs and violently twisted. Rhaena's face was full of nothing but dread, eyes blown wide, lips dried and parted. Her shaken gaze fell upon Alyssa.

“The King—” she muttered, her steps cautious as she neared her older sister. “Father wants us by the Painted Table.”

It was astounding to feel how quickly all that had been plaguing her turned insignificant.

Loss smelled of smoke. It could be the burning body, small and fragile and gone, or the unstoppable nature of death—so similar to the ancient magic of dragons. It was flames and ashes, and heavy fog blinding one's sight. It was acid down the throat, choking and squeezing and drawing blood. It was a tear, a hole in chest, a longing for something that had yet to be and now never would.

Visenya Targaryen was gone before she could be welcomed.

Alyssa wondered if rage could be stronger than mourning. If the detached look in her father's eyes had any meaning at all, perhaps it was exactly this—a need for revenge that surpassed the pain.

Rhaena's hand was warm and grounding when it sneaked around Alyssa's waist—just when she was on the verge of drowning and burning, and loosing all breath. Ready to collapse, perhaps, for all these people to see. And wouldn't it be mortifying to show them such weakness?

“What colours do you see?” she whispered in her ear, affectionate touch caressing her hair and brushing them back from Alyssa's face.

“I can't—”

“You can,” Rhaena murmured.

She sounded so certain, so sure that she wouldn't fail her, and so Alyssa couldn't bring herself to do just that. Even when it hurt, when her chest had been ripped open, skin bleeding without anyone else noticing, she couldn't bear the thought of once more eliciting disappointment. If need be, she'd bury it all—everything that sought to overwhelm her; cover it with soil and plant a poisonous seed of callousness on top. With a deep inhale, she distractedly looked around.

“Blue,” Alyssa answered silently when her eyes found the limitless sky, voice cracking and so quiet it seemed to not be there at all. “Black. Silver.” And green, always green, imprinted on her mind though kept a secret.

Rhaena nodded, hands still on her sister's figure, and offered a brief smile. “Good.”

It all quieted when a golden crown was placed upon Rhaenyra's head—the same one that had been carried by Viserys Targaryen and then led him to demise. And although it looked right, as though it had truly always belonged to her, and kneeling for the Queen came with unsurprising ease and respect, Alyssa bit into her lip and wanted to wail. She knew, even if others had yet to say it aloud, that everything would change with that moment. There would be no place for any remnants of already fleeting freedom—only invisible chains, limitations forced upon with a heavy burden, and duty, duty, duty.

And it came soon, too—of course it did—a crashing wave of dreadful darkness.

“Come with me,” Daemon murmured to her, his hand coming to rest against her pale shoulder.

Alyssa refused to betray the disarray in both her heart and mind, collecting all thoughts and tucking them away into the darkest corner to save them for later, for the moonlight's eyes alone.

“You're taking me to the wild dragons.” It was not spoken as a question; needed no answer. She already knew what he'd been thinking of.

Dragons were meant to serve as a solution—weapons, soldiers, fierce and lethal warriors on battlefield. To stand against the enemy that had no regard for the word of the King, the line of succession, who was a traitor to the realm, was hazardous enough. To fight with one who wielded the very same scaled armour of fire would be fatal.

In panic, Alyssa thought of Vhagar. How could any other beast ever come close to the ancient dragon and leave unscathed? She was a creature of bloodshed and war, a terror, a certain death—all that, and claimed by Aemond Targaryen who was already unpredictable enough himself. To have a dragon this powerful and experienced, and let it sense the violent thoughts he undoubtedly possessed was already a death sentence. Her father must have thought so as well, and so their departure came swiftly and quickly, and no explanations were given to others.

It was when silence stretched between them so unnaturally and violently that Alyssa realised that the real goal of her father was not just seeing the dragons. Cool demeanour in place, she watched him intently if only to stir any discomfort—to show him that she knew. But it was foolish to believe anyone in the realm could ever be capable of making Daemon Targaryen discomfit. And at times, when the two of them clashed—like two dragons in the storm—it led to this: a battle of unyielding stares; a challenge for the other to speak up.

He must have been impatient, for he opened his mouth sooner than she'd thought he would.

“You know your duty.” And there was the word that left her heart shattered and ablaze, and threatening to turn into ashes. “Duty as a daughter, duty as a highborn lady . . . as a woman.”

“Duty as a woman,” she repeated with a sneer, though the only other indication of her rage was hidden behind her back in the form of clenched fists. “You of all people should at least have the decency to name it as it is. It's a duty to give away my body to the filthy hands of an unworthy man. A duty to lose myself for his gain. A duty to stop being a person,” Alyssa bit her lip, a slight tremble leaving her exposed, “a dragon. To strip myself of anything of my own and shape it into whatever pleases the man.” With fury on her tongue and vicious glint to the eye, she dared raise an eyebrow, stopping before a cave they'd arrived outside of. “Or have you already forgotten about the lady Rhea Royce? I suppose shaping her to your liking had proved difficult given the gruesome circumstances of her death.”

The answer was instant though not verbal. He tilted his head, arms folded against chest, and came to stand in front and tower over her. It was meant to, perhaps, make her gaze lower obediently; have her turn to a respectfully tame daughter. As a child, she would cower under the intensity of his stare alone. All she had wanted then was to make him proud—have him always thinking of her with fondness and joy. Now, though, he had made it clear that she was a child no more.

Now, she'd give him defiance in the purest of all forms.

“I thought you'd waited this long because you wanted the decision to be mine.”

A choice, she thought. It was all she had ever wanted—the least she deserved.

“If I left this to you alone, you'd sooner flee to Pesos,” he mused.

“Fleeing seems to be a kinder fate.”

She thought back to the Free Cities, the brick towers, the songs echoing through the walls. She thought of Laena and her laughter, and the nights she and her sisters had spent listening to her stories, always told in a soft voice. It had been nice to be there, to taste freedom on her tongue, to not be expected to forgo her name, her identity, her life. But Laena wouldn't be there anymore, and neither would her sisters; she'd be all alone, a runaway, a deserter, a traitor. She'd be free, would remain herself, yes—and then she'd keep paying the price for that, until the end of her solitary days.

Her father knew her too well to not realise she would never abandon them in such haste manner. Despite the torment, she'd stay—remain a willing captive, become a shell of herself.

“You are my daughter.” The wind made a swooshing noise around; the rocks under their feet so steep Alyssa was forced to accept Daemon's outstretched hand. “Trust that I will not have you taken away by anyone who doesn't deserve you.”

A bitter chuckle escaped her mouth. “What makes you think anyone will ever deserve me? Do you really believe my heart will willingly come to love someone by the force of duty?”

“Do not fool yourself. It is not love you want.” He shook his head, a condescending smile briefly gracing his face. “You want control. You shall have it. It will be yours for the taking.”

Alyssa let out a shaky exhale.

Love, she pondered inwardly. How odd a concept to desperately seek. And yet her sisters were allowed this much, their betrothals born out of deep affection that had been blooming over the past years. It had been there all along, in the shared memories of laughter, the innocent touches, the knowledge of one another. Jacaerys and Lucerys were no strangers. To be wedded to them was not equal to being taken away from home.

And then there was Daemon himself. Alyssa knew his love for Laena had been real. She knew, too, that what his heart had gifted to Rhaenyra surpassed everything else; was too strong to be described in one insignificant word. And yet there he stood, taking this opportunity from his eldest child; stealing it with a sword in hand; leaving no trace of hope.

“If you make me do this, I will never forgive you.”

But she was long aware that he had little need for it.

“Your forgiveness will not be required once you're safe far away from here,” he said, fingers caressing the lone strands near her temple. “Nor will it help me win the war. Marriage, however, just might.”

“Am I not worth more than that? I am a Targaryen,” she whispered, blinking rapidly to not allow any tears show. “I am a dragonrider. Instead of sending me away, let me stand by your side and burn them all.”

But her pleading would serve no purpose. Alyssa recognised the look in her father's eyes—he had already decided, and would not be persuaded.

It felt as though fate had already been settled. No longer a dragon, she realised in agony. Just a pawn.

[starkwub]

Everything and Nothing

(King! Tony and Prince! Peter)

Came across a clip from a classical music piece and this sprung to mind. Sorry for the angst <3 but hopefully you can enjoy the end note ha. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors as well, I tried to catch them but I am very tired at the moment XD)

(fair warming: Major character death. As well as an insinuation of starkercest, though in this version it doesn't have to be read as such if that's not your cup of preferred tea. Also references to aspects of religion/Catholicism.)

-- -- --

To live in the shadow of a man that had everything and nothing, had not initially been his plan.

To live up to the expectations of his father, the king, was something he wasn't sure he could do.

Not when his bones held no brawn like the others, not when he was the last to be born of the many wives his father had taken on.

Not when he wheezed at night and shuddered under the cold gaze of a simple guard.

He was kept in the castle as most would expect, and never really got to see his father. Years ago, maybe, but not now. He had learned long ago that his father would never come for him--never save him--never hold him in his strong arms the way he used to when he was still a young child. Not to say he wasn't still one, as the neglect he'd been exposed to was shown through the tattered drapes of his intellect as well as his physique.

No, he learned early on that his father was surely too busy for the likes of him, and that his brothers and sisters were all far too important to be watched over rather than him.

He was born as a mistake, to a woman that was hung after his being born, and as a result didn't carry on the same blood of a maternal princess, or a queen at that, as the others did.

Peter would often stare at himself in the mirror and wonder just what went wrong. What made his father's love something he craved so deeply for. It was stupid to dream, to hope that his prayers to the Virgin Mary would be heard. That maybe she could help deliver his message.

His eyes were red and puffy as tears began to flow once again, his dinner long forgotten by the staff, and as his stomach rumbled and his mind grew tired--his ears picked up the faint sound of a voice.

A holy voice.

A voice he had only ever heard in his dreams.

Peter turned in his crumpled seated position--eyes wide and tears flowing more freely now as the door opened, light gleaming in causing his retinas to burn as if it were the light of God entering in to save him.

Was this Death? Was He here to greet him? To save him from this life of suffering and neglect?

Did Death look like his father?

"My king! I-I can explain--" Came the stuttering of a guard, soon followed by yet another voice--and another--

Did the angels not even wish to let him in? Had he done so poorly?

Peter blinked his tears away to make room for more, and as his neck began to ache from its crane towards the door, he heard that same familiar voice again.

What was he saying? What were any of them saying?

It was no time at all before his eyes were met with those of two shins and a pair of very expensive boots. Did he need to kiss them like the common crowd?

He blinked once more and let his gaze card up the familiar yet..foreign form, and when his own brown eyes met another's--only this time they were dismal and reflecting back the image of himself, crumpled on the ground much like the mirror always had.

He looked so pitiful. So broken..weak..unworthy of his fathers praise. Of adoration and affection--love.

Words escaped him in that moment when Death disguised as his father spoke down to him. That, or it had simply been too soft of a tone to be heard through the murky blood pumping through his ears.

His body felt entrapped then--surrounded by red and gold--jewels digging into his soft, pale skin as Death kissed his cheek and began muttering nonsense against him. His strong arms pulling him closer to the undershirt that had previously been hidden by the long, bejeweled night coat--Peter's cheek touching warmth for what felt like the first time.

His body was entrapped by that of the other--his rattled bones jutting into softness and his eyes bearing yet another round of tears.

"Please take me. Take me to where the angels roam and my body can rest. Death, deliver me to my final resting place." Peter murmured, coughing into the broad chest and only hearing a deep, thudding heartbeat in return.

There was a silence that followed, and as his lungs wheezed in and out his breaths, Death responded.

"My dear.. God nor Death cannot have you. Neither can hold you. Neither can take you. Neither can wrap their arms around you in the way I do, because you are mine and mine alone."

Peter's fingers clung to the night shirt as a coat was held around him, shielding him from the wicked, desolate room around him.

"Father.." Peter whimpered, his tired soul reaching out through his frail word to seek out the other before him--to intertwine as if ensuring they never be separate.

"Peter.." Came the voice, not of Death, but of his own flesh and blood. The king. "Peter I had no report of you..My son, please forgive me."

Forgive him?

The king asking for forgiveness from him? The frail, last child born to a prostitute? The boy who could not read but a line, and who hadn't enough strength to eat a full meal?

Peter's lips shook far too much for his voice to clammer though, and thus the only thing he could think to do was to reach up, a frail, weak hand now holding his father's neck--his thumb brushing against stubble, to press his chapped, bitten lips against the other's skin.

His eye's continued to shine bright with tears as his king enclosed his arms around him once more, crumpling his weak body beneath the iron, bear-like grip he had.. It had felt as if he were being born once more. trapped within the womb of dark, drowning warmth.

He could feel his body drift.

Drift to somewhere he didn't know the name of.

Drift to the place where he awoke and felt his father's embrace around him, for eternity and thereafter.

He didn't think that God, nor Death, could tear them apart.

In that moment, Peter felt peace.

Raw, pure, suffocating peace.

--

Tony had merely felt the other's kiss on his skin in the wake of his asking for forgiveness, and as he cried out an ugly, hellbent screech upon feeling the grip of his son's fingers loosen at his back, he couldn't help but wish..

God what did he wish for..

To go back in time to when his son was not taken, to when his guards and trusted staff did not lie to him under his chin about his son's status.

To have been able to be the father to a child that he loved so dearly, and had missed near constantly.

To have been able to be the father his child needed..

His nose burned and his chest ached with agony as he wept for what felt like hours, his sons body cradled beneath him.

Why hadn't he done more? Why?

"Why why why.." Tony murmured through shattered breaths and crackling cries.

"Sir--if you--"

"Get away from me!" Tony bellowed, throwing an arm out to whomever it had been to take a step close to him in a state such as this.

A broken man. A man with everything--

his son's lifeless body lying limp beneath his shaking hold as he wrapped his other arm around him once more,

and nothing.

-- -- --

(Whew that got real sad huh. Hadn't planned on the character death, but hey, it's 1 am and I've had stuff on my mind once again. Hopefully the writing wasn't too terribly botched XD

Also! on a good note, I'm thinking I may do a version were Peter doesn't die, that's a bit longer for you starkercest fans since that was the original concept :) )

An after thought I just had: I think I like using anaphoric wording ha

(The literary device Anaphora is the use of a word or phrase repetitively at the beginning of a line, incase you weren’t sure. That’s a rendition of the American English definition though, so it may be taught a bit different depending on where you’re from. Golly I sound like a nerd ha.)

[sxlcst]

starter for @utterxdesires muse: dracula

serving her a feast prepared by his servants who were hollow-minded and on the verge of being dead as if they had no conscience or thought but feeble-minded and followed the prince's commands. understanding through his guest's own perspective that her situation may be dire since his enemy a king who had been responsible many years ago for killing dracula's wife and had been an ally of dracula during wartime was being threatened by dracula and his dark forces with the promise that the king's kingdom would be destroyed eradicated and that everyone who followed that king would suffer a brutal death by the hands of the prince who was known to mortals as the devil and someone who was purely evil with rumors and unkind yet unsavoury superstitions about the prince which didn't bother him as he would primarily remain with in his castle atop the mountain which overlooked the village. the prince was well dressed for the occasion and seated in silence as he mostly eyed the king's daughter with intrigue and a faint hint of fascination and lust witnessing her eat and drink wine. stroking his pale stubble-covered chin while contemplating how the events would proceed with her being his guest not knowing if she would be constantly difficult to the point where he would have to discard her yet the reliance of her kingdom existing was solely on her.

the older male's lips would then shift into a tiny smile in an attempt to be friendly even though it may prove to be pointless still it was worth doing. " i take it you aren't very hungry? if the food wasn't to your satisfaction then i could make something to your liking? " the prince wanting to be a generous host to his guest who was to permanently now remain with him. pleasant smile disappeared from his lips slowly. his eyes would then sink down to her neck briefly gazing upon it before turning his face away as he was thirsty and hungered for the taste of her blood coursing through her neck. his chiselled jawline would clench. swallowing a lump in the back of his throat he then would then question. " i know you may hate me however what lead you in this situation was your father's doing. you've no idea the atrocities he committed even when he was young during wartime. the mistake your father made was the day he killed the person i loved most in this world. a human doctor who helped the villagers. " not wanting to garner pity or sympathy from his guest and is aware that his very actions of kidnapping the woman were not good intentions yet he needs to clear the air with reasons as to why she ended up in this predicament. " now, since you are mine i need you to do something for me. i need you to stand and walk over to your host. " his tone of voice sharp and gravelly and joyless due to what would be coming to her soon.

[croakings]

hey i would love to hear some of your thoughts about hollow knight 👀

:^)

>:^)

yeah i have a normal amount of thoughts about the bug game that i can go over very briefly. there will not be a wall of text under the cut

first of all i'm very sorry this is so late BUT. heart. we got here eventually.

i've rambled A Little before and i don't want to find those posts HOWEVER: to briefly revisit past thoughts i love sad stories that pull no punches and AS MUCH as i AM a card carrying resident of fort denial. i really appreciate how this is a story of so desperately trying to do good and put an end to great suffering and survive. and arguably even under the "best ending" (and unrelatedly but passionately: FUCK god home and the god seeker and ALSO. NEVER FORGET. CAN'T LEAVE HIM OUT SAY IT WITH ME: THE PALE KING) you do not get to do that. like. you start having already lost. there is no undoing it. there is no fixing it. you can only lose more, personally. in all endings other than the hardest, you EXCLUSIVELY make things worse (sorry hornet)! well yanno actually that's also arguable but. the POINT. is that it's a good old fashioned tragedy. about GRIEF and MISTAKES and FATAL PRIDE. and there is no fixing it!!! there is only letting it die and hoping that what comes next is better and worth it and good mostly just because it is at all. because it has to be. AND I APPRECIATE THAT THANK YOU TEAM CHERRY FOR THE PERFECT GAME

also themes aside and sorry if anyone has ever said this but 1) this ask prompted me to start another play through 2) i've been chipping away at the path of pain and i HAVE to comment. the white palace is a dream. right. right. unpopular opinion(?) i do not actually think pk is insane enough to fill his stupid fancy building with buzzsaws. as funny as that is or would be. it's a dream. the radiance gets people through dreams or at least. thoughts? The Mind. and this is a remnant of pk's mind. which is. fortified. because: yeah. I REALLY THINK ITS MORE. A METAPHOR. do you get me. do you feel me. ESPECIALLY with the path of pain. like. as much as the name pertains to you the player. ALSO. is it not a memory that hurts. is it not an occurrence that was really and truly the beginning of the end. an idea instilled of Weakness that no one involved could afford and that hurts The Entire Kingdom in the end: that the love was there but wasn't and couldn't be (allowed to be) significant or enough. they both had to die. PK SAYS IT, THE OVERDRAMATIC ASSHOLE: no cost too great. that includes him. that includes ALL of his children (everyone wave to the sibling pit hi sibling pit). even thk. he WAS insane for that pk love is not weakness this is why you died shriveled and alone

also like i do think. this is a little about how the gods of hallownest have to die. NOT FOR LIKE. not with any relation to Actual Theology just more in the lotr sense; their time has passed and the world can't survive them and they also very demonstrably can't really survive each other anymore either. the only ones left are unn and wl. and they both secluded themselves forever(?). idk i think a world that both outgrew and simultaneously became too small for its gods is. just really good food. that's such an interesting concept. it moved past and beyond them but that is still a loss. a world that HAD pk (and the Wyrm before him) and wl and radiance etc, where people could interact with them, where they could unilaterally shape the world around them according to their own whims and needs, how they could Fight each other if either of those things ever became competing.... ough. ALSO i will leave this train of thought in a moment but i do think it's insane how unn and the wl are the only gods to survive. unn ceded ground willingly at the beginning of all of this to wl which is tasty. and seems to have left the world willingly as well. and wl equally as tastily has taken refuge in ground she took from THE ONLY OTHER god still alive. which i do think is significant. and she is waiting there for everything to be over, not knowing what's happening or has happened. that it's already over. it's been over. and she'll always be waiting. there. alone. in a land she made her home far from what she built with pk but also didn't build herself at all. ISN'T THAT SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT

also sorry idk what you wanted Thoughts on specifically but i'm going to close this on i do actually think ghost is Not Dead. this is in another 2 ramble posts, but. i said something about a running theme of hk being that living and changing and Moving On specifically can be painful and often is and seems brutal and that it is a Loss. i think about the mantis youth journal entry all the time. AND THE GRUBS? the only way to prevent them from being eaten was to imprison them, because otherwise they would just go back. THAT'S INSANE THAT MAKES ME INSANE...... anyway so i do think ghost's body "dies". like all the vessel's bodies die. but i also think that..... the siblings you find scattered around hallownest, like. gave up. because you can't die, and ik it's a video game, but one of my favorite activities is making up lore for mechanics. i think the one in greenpath got killed by its sister over and over again and eventually there was a last time. i think lost kin/broken vessel was hunting for the truth and had found enough answers that the knowledge one way or another killed it. i think the ones with nosk really got final straw'd by that lure and then subsequently all the Actual Bodies Of Siblings Hanging From The Ceiling. i think all the ones in the sibling pit were. well 1) it could just be pk's skill issue and were "flawed" as in "more fragile" but 2) my personal theory is that if you force a bunch of literal babies to claw their way out of a hostile and vicious hole literally directly after ripping them into existence JUST TO SURVIVE like. JUST TO BE "WORTHY" OF LIVING AND "ALLOWED" TO "LIVE". personally i would be like this shit is a scam. and give up probably. and i think they did. but THEY were in the basin, where (presumably) the void society came from. so instead of fading. they uh. didn't. instead of going back to the void. they remained. those little pieces pk tore off. and gave empty shells. and i went on a tangent but anyway i don't think ghost is Done Finis Gone after the final radi fight. i think the body pk gave was just too small. and limiting. and. cruel. and that after all that ghost was just too much its own person, and moved too much past what pk had wanted and intended for that body and that life, to be able to keep the shell after. growing so much. I KNOW THIS IS A LITTLE BIT OF A FORT DENIAL THEORY but i'm serious like fr. i also do think it's still tragic!! ftr!!!!! to not be able to keep living the life you used to be able to. to pass as something like everyone else was. to be small and met with friendliness and and sometimes even joy. to have the ease of the body your "parents" gave you, of existing like they did/wanted you to— maybe even to exist in the world the same way they can at all!!!!! that's a loss. getting big. and strong. being forced to grow so much to fix and Outgrow your shitty legacy. because you're the only one who can. right then and there. OUGH.

also thk in Final Very Hard Ending. i've seen people talk about that i think hornet is like Time To Fight bc that's just her automatic response to everything. hollow is fine. to me. imo. other than the whole. damaged by hosting an angry god. thing. like i think the whole bit with their nail is just them staggering out and leaning on it and hornet is like Oh Shit as she often is. i DO think that's fine actually. anyway

ALSO i said i was done and like. almost but. GHOST MAKES ME SO INSANE LIKE. yeah!!!!!!! you crawl out of the sibling pit JUST TOO LATE!!!!!!! there only ever needed to be one of you. and there's the one that was just slightly faster. just a little better than you. just what's needed. AND YOU FALL BACK INTO THE DARKNESS. THE LITERAL ACTUAL DARKNESS. AND CRAWL BACK OUT AGAIN AND LEAVE!!!!!!! what a fucking move. you go you funky little bug. IF IT SUCKS HIT DA BRICKS SO TRUE THAT IS ALL A SCAM LITTLE BUDDY. but!!!!! it comes back!!!!!! it hears its sibling screaming and it comes back. it relearns the world it left. all its terrible history and secrets and past. and it stays!!!!!! because it got to leave!!!!! and you know who didn't???? who never got that choice???????? that life???? that Growth? [NONE of its siblings actually but specifically] thk! just slightly better. just slightly faster. not allowed to live, just for that. told thought. feeling. life is a weakness. has it anyway. is triple double decker doomed for this. and you save them!! insane!!!! insane!!!!!!

anyway fr i'm done that's all those are my immediate Thoughts. if u have any questions comments or concerns. my askbox is still open :)

[winxrewritingsandfictions]

Love and trauma.

Parings : Stella x Brandon, Radius&Luna, Stella&Riven

Genre : romance, friendship, drama

Rating : M

Length : multi parts

Trigger Warnings : trauma, anxiety

He had proposed. Eveyrthing she ever dreamed of, he had done. A fantastic diner. A dance in the middle of the ball room. All eyes on them. Then a moment of intimacy. A balcony and the moon keeping them company, like a motherly presence reassuring her. A wonderful ring that belonged to his grandmother.

He had proposed.

Everything had been perfect, and yet, she said no.

Two letters, one word, shattering them. He had looked up at her, not sure he had heard right. She had tears in her eyes. She was shaking. He could not believe his ears. She had said no. How was that even possible? They were in love. They had been since they were sixteen. They were now twenty-two.

Seven years. Seven years of love. Seven years together and she said no... Brandon fell on both his knees, like the two-letters word had smashed him down.

Stella was crying incontrollably now.

"I'm so sorry... I'm-I'm so sorry! I can't do this. I can't. I'm so sorry... Please forgive me. I don't want this."

Brandon was lost. She didn't want to marry him? But she loved him. He knew she did. There was no other way. She always did. He loved her! Wasn't it they were supposed to do now that they were adults? That's what Flora and Helia had done... Nabu and Aisha too. What did he do wrong? Maybe it was the ring. At first he had wanted to buy her a brand new one, but Sky had told him that an heirloom had more value. His best friend knew his family did have many heirlooms, just like his. It was an Heraklie's thing.

Stella could not stand to see him like this. She could not stand there. she could not breath.

"I'm so sorry!" She said and ran back into the ball room. Her friends, her family and the most important people of Solaria were here. They all knew he would ask her tonight. They all waited for them, ready to applause. But they didn't. They saw her tears. Her friends all looked shocked. What was going on? Brandon was still on the balcony, looking pale.

Inside, Stella looked like she was about to fall. She ran outside the ball room. As soon as she was gone, people started to whisper. The king was sitting unconfortably on his throne and he looked for his daughter's best friend. Bloom saw Radius looking for her. She looked back at her fiancé and they both nodded. Sky went looking for Brandon while Bloom joined the king.

"What is happening!?"

"I have no idea Radius. As planned, we didn't spoil the surprise, but I'm starting to think that we should have."

"Maybe he said something wrong?"

"What could he possibly had said that would make her cry like this? No, Radius, I doubt Brandon as anything to do with this."

Bloom knew her bestfriend. She knew how much she was in love with Brandon. They was something else here.

In the crowd, all the Winx and specialists looked lost. The girls were whispering frantically. But there, lurking like he usually did, Riven was rolling his eyes at everybody. How blind could they be? Royals were something else... Any normal person would have understood, yet again the girls didn't get it. He looked over to the king and saw the Bloom. Their eyes met, and Riven instantly knew. Bloom and him were never close, however they did share one thing, they both knew what it meant to be "normal". He thought about his fiancé for a moment. She was normal too, but loosing her mom had made her very nostalgic and romantic. Bloom was romantic but her relationship with Blondie number 2 had forced her to be less romantic and more calculating. She had been raised like a normal child and yet she had to deal with royals and their attitude. Yep, they both had this in common. They knew royal etiquette was bullshit. And that was the problem now. Some past mistakes were lurking on the princess, and Riven was about to address them.

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

Sigh. I don't know if I like it or not. I wrote that months ago and kept it hidden because I didn't know what to do with it. Do you like it? Should I finish it ?

Check this stories too:

Acceptance : Part 1

Time of Wars : Part 1

coffee break : Part 1

[lokis-wager]

do you ever think about the consequences of your actions? + Odintreus

Had Atreus ever once stopped to think?

Had Odin ever once made a spontaneous decision?

Yes, and neither had ever made the right choice. Atreus found himself with a mouth full of blood, sprawling on the floor from the force of a punch. He swallowed, tasting red, his breath coming in ragged pants as he waited for the next hit.

There wasn't a next one. Odin merely stared down at the young man on the floor, then glanced at his own hand. As if he hadn't just punched Atreus in the mouth, cut his knuckles on youthful teeth.

Atreus knew better than to try to argue with his lover when they had been drinking together. And yet, he couldn't stop himself, his quick wit running much faster than his swift mind.

Atreus stood up slowly. The drink made it hard - his vision was blurring, his ears were ringing, his limbs felt heavy and tired- but he stood, and faced his Odin. "What the fuck?" He slurred, grabbing a handful of his shirt.

"I... sorry." The old man whispered, but Atreus could tell he was still on the verge of spitting fire, anger making his whole body taut. And yet, Odin held back, didn't want it all to come rushing in, or to push Atreus back to the ground.

Atreus growled. Blood was running down his chin, and Odin's blood ran down a wrinkled, pale hand. "Sorry." He mimicked coldly. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Like a broken little bird that only knows one song. You'd think that you would have learned by now to stop doing things that need apologizing, instead."

Odin cupped his face in his hands. "Loki. Loki." His voice was warm. His eye was cold. "Loki, I love you. It was an accident, a mistake. You know things are better now, better than they've ever been- "

"Loki. Sorry." Atreus called again, resting his hands on top of Odin's. "I love you, I'm sorry. Do you ever think about how I'd feel before you do something? Or how you'd feel after, at least? Something that makes you seem more human?"

Ichor didn't run for long. They were gods, and their wounds healed divinely, without a flaw. Atreus' face was clean, and Odin's hand was wrinkled again. The wooden floor below had already sucked all the blood away with a deep thirst, erasing all trace of a fight besides flared tempers and burning eyes. Blue into blue, Atreus stared, and Odin merely looked.

"Human?" He echoed strangely, and Atreus flinched. "Human... is that what you think of me? I see my father carved up, and his blood forms the ocean, and yet human is all I should strive to be? Is that the best standard you can hold me too, Jotun? Not even a touch of the divine, merely human?"

"And yet, you're worse than most of them. The evilest of all men return to dust, and you do nothing but linger." Adolescence was long for a giant, and for a god. Atreus was barely stumbling out of it now, in the span that it took for an entire human kingdom to rise and fall. But Odin was the elder god, an elder torment. He had been old before Atreus' ancestors had lived, and was older still now. After so much time, he knew not to cut his hand on his lover's teeth.

He knew what it tasted like to kiss blood from his lover's lips. Again, and again. Atreus couldn't pull away. Odin was all too used to it. The way his tongue flicked at hints of salt still clinging to his teeth made Atreus shiver. He was loved, and the blood that ran along his tongue was savored, and the healed wound on his lip was caressed.

"Older, and eviler than the worst of all men." Odin whispered. "God of gods, king of them all. And yet, still king of you, godling. King of little Jotun warriors who say they do good, and yet can't stop kissing the mouths of Asgardian butchers."

Atreus fought to keep his eyes open, to look at the man that had hurt him. He didn't even try to move away. "All-Father." The word slipped from his lips before he was kissed again. The sting of it all was gone so quickly, and the smile on Odin's mouth was already returning.

"Don't you ever think about what you're doing, Loki? The consequences of your actions? I don't like it when I hurt you. We shouldn't fight like this." A purr, a croon, and Atreus was melting into his arms.

"You're right." He murmured, closing his eyes and burying his face in Odin's scent. "Always, always right."

[uroborosymphony]

For the infamous Queen of the Night, Daughter of Hecate, Sovereign of the Ghouls, and Witch Killer to end in prison - How Ironic. The day of Calixtus Orion's arrestation made history in the world of the Night. Celebrations accross the material and immortal realms thrown, towns covens and villages brought back to life - while her Council, her Armies of vampires and other servitors have, just like her, been arrested, locked, damned. It took weeks for the Mothers of all Covens, the King of Hell and the Immortal Knights of the Moonlake Order to decide which establishment Calista should been locked in awaiting for her trial. An establishment where even the gods powers were magically cut, ineffective. "A mistake. Magically restrained is not enough for a criminal like of her calibre. We will all regret it, sooner or later." Spoke Mother Yokhulan, the Grand Priestess of Yatsugatake - yet a line the Moonlake Order's first knight decided to contest and still agree Calista should reside here, in this retreat for the time being. Wasn't the Mother Witch always right with her foreseeing? Perhaps they all should have listened to her. Her first days at the facility passed, slow, empty as Calista's head does nothing but spiraling into despair. Her war made history and became one of the biggest and most admired croisade one has lead in the eyes of her fanatics and followers who were still waiting for her on her outside., Yet in her eyes? An humiliation to have been stopped before reaching her goal : to find the power that could end her immortality and terminate herself. In the facility obviously the word spread that the war criminal would sit among the other minor deities being punished, just as well. Funny she thought, for them to be Oh so scandalised and fearful of her when truly, their powers are quite frankly on the same level. Calista is no Goddess but a Daimoness only, her real weapon is her intellect. If her reputation built from her manic laughters echoing from the hills of her battles, it is her mind one should be careful about. It's only a matter of time before she cracks the code of her way out, her escape, the only thought keeping the Lamia's head alive. As usual in the afternoons, she is sitting away from her group as they stand meters away in the grass. She is thinking. Watching. Observing. From an outside point of view there is nothing more sinister than the pale skinned blood manipulating creature, with her white immaculate hair and perfectly straight spine, staring in nothingness for hours without a bink, the palms of her hands on her knees. Every single peace of her brain is constantly running, going through all the possible scenarios until finding the perfect one to escape, her thin and sharp nails still, even though they haven't lacerated a neck in a very long time - she misses that. A presence is felt by her side, on that bench in the outside gardens, one that seems to take place right besides her. Perhaps the only other soul who ever addressed a word to Calista since her arrival : Love. The lamia clearly isn't the most social creature yet she appreciates the other's company, finding her smarter and more interesting than the rest of the convincted ones here. They have lunch together sometimes. Not that Calista can absorb anything besides blood and flesh, she simply watches Love eat in silence. Came conversations later down the road, of their tales, interesting ones. Their mutual wish to get out of here has been shared too, perhaps the birth of an alliance. "Have you been assigned to the displeasure of being my partner for the next grass sitting and emotional sing along? I should have tried killing myself a little harder." It is the Lamia's very own way of debasing and mocking the activities offered by the place. To "rehabilate" them, oh what a joke. As if exploring her inner bucolic self would stop her from remaining a mass murderer once out. "I must warn you though." Calista speaks, her head mechanically orientating to the side to catch the other's eyes, a cynical pinch to her lips. "I do not hold hands."

            for @dollypardonne