#MY ANGSTY KINGS <3

[rings-of-power-realm]

“I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”

[eff-plays]

I think Wyll is prettier than Astarion. There I said it. Astarion is more interesting certainly but mainly because Wyll is easier to look at. I just kick my legs and giggle whenever he's on screen. Mesmerized by him. Cannot tear my eyes away type shit.

[limeartichoke]

mmm idk how i feel abt this but I'm posting it anyway cause i know someone will appreciate it ‼️‼️

[sorryimananti-romantic]

First off I LOVED GUERILLA!! I would've married it if I wasn't already married to Take Me Home and White Love. I came here to bless your eyes with the concept of Yunho as Romeo tho

He's built like the main lead of a Shakespearean romance/ prince of dreams who'd swoop you off your feet fr.

ahh so you have a thing for yunho in royal settings i see how it is 😏 thank you about guerrilla tho!!

BUT OMGG yunho is sooo romeo-coded idek what's it about him. looks like a man who would go to all lengths to get you ughh my hearteu

also he's so medieval prince coded i swear i'm this 🤏 close to writing a royal au for him where he's some king or prince bc ugh. look at him. he's such a prince and i say that with all my heart.

thank you for blessing my eyes kaya i love how you pop in so randomly with the best stuff hehe

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

it might be kinda fun to write an arthurian au where reader is guinevere…….. hhhh this is gonna rot in my brain all day oh no T_T

i am obsessed with this, but i don't think i'm good enough to write this

i went through a brief period of fascination with that period, and i could totally see suguru being lancelot !!! and satoru as arthur??

and guinevere!reader having an affair with lancelot :( there is just something so tasty about a relationship being so intimate it's a secret between two parties, and just the longing to openly express love and affection and being unable to do so...

DW ANONNNN i got you >:3 it has been added to my ever-growing list of wips……

(arthuriana rant under the cut) (<- got carried away)

what i love most abt the arthuriana is the fact that the legends are so old that. it’s basically free real estate??? no interpretation is more right or wrong than any other because there’s barely any actual canon and i think that makes researching it sm fun!! i had a period where i read a bunch of older and more modern arthurian interpretations and i had a blast comparing them and coming to a conclusion about my own take on the legend…. (which i always incorporate a little into my knight aus :33 my overall take on the arthuriana is that knighthood is an unattainable ideal)

ANYWAY I’M GETTING CARRIED AWAY. don’t ask ari abt knights bc they’ll never stfu.

BUT YEAHH lancelot as suguru is so perfect because lancelot is the greatest knight !! and because of that, his sin is also the heaviest. i think it’s a great parallel to suguru’s canonical ”fall from grace” — lancelot loves guinevere and he loves the king and the burden of being the greatest knight crushes him. because knights aren’t allowed to love!! being a knight means surrendering a piece of your own humanity but nobody likes an inhumane knight, so it’s a losing game. (this is explored in both erskine’s galahad and the pearl poet’s gawain and the green knight!!)

i always end up thinking of a line i love from steinbeck’s the acts of king arthur and his noble knights, which is spoken by lancelot himself….. he makes me so sad :((((

sir lancelot looked to the forest's edge, which bore ahead, and he said uneasily, "why should they ask these things? aren’t deeds enough? can you tell me? aren’t deeds enough?”

deeds aren’t enough. being the greatest knight means being a contradiction and it also means that nothing you do will ever be quite enough.

and yeah!! the forbidden love aspect is just so tasty. i think satoru is perfect as king arthur because of the love lancelot holds for guinevere and his king — all three of them love each other and it makes the situation that much more painful. lancelot who can’t help but love guinevere, guinevere who can’t help but love him back, king arthur who has no choice but to execute them when the public finds out. there are lots of arthurian works where king arthur knows about the affair and lets it happen out of love for them both, but then he still has to do what the public demands… and i think that also fits perfectly with satoru in the jjk canon :((( the way he has no choice but to kill suguru for his crimes.

i could say more but it rlly is just the perfect parallel au…. i’ve always wanted to explore the similarities between sorcerers and knights so!! this fic would give me that opportunity :33 sorry for rambling anon, and ty for giving me an excuse to!!

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (steddie fic)

saw this post and was inspired to write something angsty <3

The first thing Eddie is aware of when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes, is the dull, aching pain throbbing through pretty much his entire body. The second thing he’s aware of is that someone is holding his hand. 

“Eddie?” The hand in his tightens its grip as Eddie begins to stir; the voice it presumably belongs to sounds immeasurably relieved, yet only vaguely familiar. 

Eddie groans. His eyelids flutter, blinking awake, and he groggily rolls his head to the side to get a look at whoever had spoken. 

The voice sighs again, “Oh thank god-” 

“Harrington?” Eddie’s eyes fly open wide now as they land on the mystery man sitting beside him on the edge of the bed - a man he most definitely is not close enough with to be holding his hand, and a bed that is most definitely not his own. He snatches his hand away. “What the hell are you doing? Where am I?”

“Ed-” Another man’s voice, this one just as relieved and infinitely more familiar. It fills Eddie with relief too as he looks to his other side to find his uncle Wayne rising from a nearby chair to come up next to him. 

“Wayne, what-?” His surroundings are becoming more clear. “What happened? Why am I in a hospital? And why the fuck is King Steve at my bedside?” Eddie tries to sit up only to gasp and wince in pain as the dull ache in his sides sharpens to near agony at the movement. 

“Take it easy, son.” Wayne’s hand lands on his shoulder, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the pillows. “You were hurt real bad.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Eddie grumbles out. He sucks in a deep, intentional breath and exhales slowly, the pain beginning to dull again now that he’s settled. His questions are still largely unanswered, though. Blank mind reaching desperately for any logical piece to this bizarre puzzle, he turns an accusing glare to Harrington. “Did you land me in here? Is that why you’re here, some sort of weird guilt thing?” 

Harrington’s looking at him like a kicked puppy. “What? No, I-” he falters, takes a shaky breath and swallows painfully like he’s trying not to cry. “You don’t remember?” 

“I don’t remember what? Will someone just tell me what happened?” Eddie’s confusion is rising more and more into agitation with every second he remains without an explanation. 

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Harrington asks quietly.

“I was driving home from school, just found out I wasn’t gonna graduate again.” Eddie frowns as he thinks back, still trying to put pieces together. “Did I crash my car? Is that it? I was emotional and not paying attention and got into an accident?” 

Yet again, he receives no answers. 

“Eddie, what month is it?” Wayne asks instead, his tone dangerously measured and serious. “What year?” 

“May…” Eddie says warily, “1985.”

His words hold a weight he doesn’t understand, landing heavy on the others in the room and thickening the air. It sends a chill of dread down his spine, the way his answer etches concern deep into the lines of Wayne’s face, the way Steve Harrington seems to take it like a blow to the chest. 

Harrington exhales sharply as if he’s been punched, standing abruptly and taking a few stumbling steps back. Wayne says, “It’s April of ‘86, Ed.”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. “No. No, it can’t be.” 

“I’m gonna go tell the nurse you’re awake,” Harrington mumbles, his voice strained and his eyes glassy with barely held-back tears. 

“I’ll go,” Wayne offers, pushing himself away from Eddie’s bed. He gives Harrington a meaningful look, though what that meaning is, Eddie can’t decipher. 

Harrington turns his devastated gaze to the older man. “But, Wayne, he doesn’t-” 

“I know, kid.” Wayne gives a sad smile and places a sympathetic hand on Harrington’s shoulder as he passes by. “Just talk to him.” 

Eddie is thrown off by this familiarity between them. Since when were those two close? He feels like he’s entered some sort of parallel universe where everything is just ever so slightly wrong. It leaves an itch beneath his skin, uncomfortable and out of place, like he no longer quite fits in his own body, in his own life. He’s lost 11 months, apparently, and this world is no longer his; he doesn’t know where he fits into it anymore. 

Wayne leaves the room, and Eddie wants to protest: Don’t leave me here with this guy I don’t know in this time I don’t know, please, you’re the only thing that feels safe and familiar! Anxiety is crawling through him like a thousand tiny bugs in his veins. He wants to scream, he wants to cry, he wants to run. Anything to shake this feeling loose. But he’s confined to this bed, trapped both by his pain and by all these machines he’s hooked up to, and he sure as shit isn’t going to have a breakdown in front of Steve goddamn Harrington. 

Instead, Eddie resigns himself to this situation and casts a sideways glance at Harrington who very much looks like he’s also trying not to have a breakdown. “I’m freaking out, man,” Eddie says finally, hating how shaky and pathetic his voice sounds. “I swear to god, Harrington, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on…” 

Harrington worries his lip between his teeth as he hesitates. “It’s a lot to explain.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I’m missing nearly an entire year, of course it’s a lot to fill in. Unless I’ve been here this whole time?” 

“No.” Harrington shakes his head. “No, you’ve only been here about a week. I- I don’t know why you’re missing so much time, the whole Vecna thing only started like a week before that-” 

“Vecna?” Eddie interrupts to question. “What does any of this have to do with the D&D campaign I was planning? And, also, how the fuck do you know about that?” 

Harrington closes his eyes for a second and takes a breath, like having this conversation is the most painful thing he’s ever had to do. “I’m not talking about D&D, Ed. Vecna was a real-life monster from a real-life alternate dimension we called the Upside-Down. The kids only called him Vecna because we didn’t know who he was at the time and he, like, cursed people before he killed them, but he was actually Henry Creel, which is a whole other fucked up story.”

“Okay…” Eddie doesn’t know who ‘the kids’ are and he’s skeptical of the way Harrington talks so factually about monsters and dimensions and curses existing in the real world, but he does remember his uncle telling him stories about the demonic tragedy of the Creel family, which is the only thing that makes any of this even halfway believable. It still doesn’t explain how Eddie wound up in the hospital with his entire body feeling like it’d been run through a blender, though, or why the former king of Hawkin’s High was hovering over his sickbed. He gestures for Harrington to continue. 

“I never wanted you to get involved in all this Upside-Down shit,” Harrington’s voice breaks. He steps closer to Eddie’s bed again, and he looks so so sad as he stares down at him that it makes Eddie’s own heart ache, just a little bit. Harrington’s hand twitches at his side as if he means to reach out for Eddie but then thinks better of it, running the hand through his hair instead as he continues, “I tried to keep you from it for so long, I really did, but then Vecna killed Chrissy in your trailer and the whole town blamed you and you were just a part of things then, there was no getting around it. You helped us fight him - Vecna. You kept his army of bats off our ass while we weakened his body and El weakened his mind. If it weren’t for you we never would’ve defeated him and we certainly wouldn’t have all made it out alive.” Harrington’s gaze softens, as does his voice, his next words almost a whisper, “You were a hero, Eddie.” 

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Eddie says, like that’s the least plausible part of Harrington’s story. And, really, it is. He can wrap his mind around a lot of things: a murder in his trailer - sure, Forest Hills always was a shady place; the whole town accusing him of being a killer - yeah, of course, that tracks; even an evil wizard from another dimension with an army of bats - fine, okay, why the hell not. But Eddie Munson is no hero, and he’s definitely not any sort of fighter either.

“No, you never did think so, did you?” Harrington mutters with a sad sort of fondness and the barest trace of a wistful smile. “But it’s true. Dustin was in danger and you didn’t even think twice. You ran right into the fray without a second thought, sacrificed yourself so that the rest of us might survive. Those bats nearly killed you, b-” he breaks, choking on whatever word he was going to say. His eyes swim with yet more unshed tears. “I almost thought they had killed you, you know. I thought you were dead when I carried you out of the Upside-Down,” he admits shakily, choked up and barely managed, “and even when I brought you here and you were stable, I was still so scared you wouldn’t wake up…” 

Eddie doesn’t know how to react to any of that information or to such a display of emotion. His own hands twitch now with the urge to reach out and comfort him, but he too denies that instinct. He tries for humor instead, something lighter, cracking a grin and teasing, “Aw, Stevie, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Harrington makes a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Oh, Ed, you have no idea.” 

“We were friends then, weren’t we?” Eddie guesses now, carefully. It’s rapidly becoming the only possible explanation for the guy’s behavior around him. “Before all the Vecna stuff?”

“Yeah,” Harrington manages, forcing a small, sad smile as his eyes finally overflow and streak his cheeks with tears. “Yeah, we were good friends.” 

~

Wayne reenters the room then with a nurse in tow, and Steve quickly turns away and rubs his hands over his face. He needs to pull himself together; he can’t break down right now, not yet, not here. 

He listens, distantly, as the nurse asks Eddie a bunch of questions and then tells the rest of them that she needs to take him in for some tests to determine the cause and prognosis of Eddie’s amnesia. He watches, numbly, as she wheels Eddie’s entire bed out of the room. 

Steve can barely hear, barely see, his emotion clouding his eyes and roaring in his ears. He stares blankly through the open doorway and struggles to swallow down the ever-rising lump in his throat. 

Wayne’s voice rumbles from somewhere beside him, but he can’t quite make out the words. “What?” 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Wayne says, the sound reaching Steve’s ears a little clearer now. “I asked if you were alright.” 

Steve shakes his head. His voice comes out coarse and raw, “‘Course I’m not alright.” 

“Right, ‘course you’re not,” Wayne echoes. He follows Steve’s mournful gaze to the door Eddie had disappeared through. “What did you tell him?” 

“Told him he was a hero,” Steve croaks, “...and that we were good friends.”

“Ah…” Steve’s vision is so blurred behind a thick layer of tears he can’t see the sympathetic frown on the old man’s face, but he knows it’s there. “At least he’s alive, kid,” Wayne tries to be comforting. “You can always start over.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t- I don’t want to start over, I just want-” Steve chokes back a sob. He just wants Eddie.

It’s a horrible thought, but Steve almost thinks that this just might be worse than if Eddie really had died… Because how is Steve supposed to handle the fact that his boyfriend of 9 months no longer knows him? How is he supposed to cope now that the love of his life looks right at him and no longer sees him?

He closes his eyes, presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids, inhaling a shaky breath and exhaling an even shakier sigh. Steve whispers, “It feels like I’m losing him all over again.” 

(part two is here!)

[soundlessdreamss]

Hi!

Can i request lucifer and charlie morningstar with starlight glimmer!Reader?

So the reader was lucifer's child back in heaven and when she saw what her father did without her..She felt anger and sorrow insode herself.. But that didn't stop of her because she fell from heaven to hell...And she changed her appearance so nobody would suspect that she looks similar to lucifer

If you know starlight's cutie mark ability that is different..The reader can collect people's soul and feed the souls to her clock

Her clock is golden one with starlight mark on the behind..And she can time travel but she don't use it alot since she still has some other abilities to keep in control..

And the reader just went to the hazbin hotel just to stay there and help with few stuff... And vaggie knows reader but not that deep..Charlie noticed that the reader had few blonde hair strings like lucifer.. So she thought nothing at first..

And the reader saw alastor as father figure so sometimes the reader calls him father and alastor just tells the reader to call him father which the reader become happy since she didn't had anyone else at all

So when lucifer visits the hotel how he will react?

I could just when lucifer pointed it out alastor would have the biggest grin then spoke

"Oh?,well she calls me her father!"

I wanna see it sooooo badly‼️‼️

It's alright if you don't do it<3

Also can be called the servy anon?

I like your fics sm<3

Hope to see more of it<3

Have good day/evening/night<3

omg I LOVE mlp!! Of course I can write this, I haven’t got that far though so I’m not really sure how starlight glimmer acts but I did a bit of research and I’ll try my best to write this well!

PLATONIC/FATHER ALASTOR X READER X LUCIFER (sorry if this isn’t how u write it, I’m still new to this whole fanfic thing ^_^ ) Also this is kinda angsty, and requests are open!

When you were still a kid in heaven you saw Lucifer as the best father in the world! He loved and cherished you deeply, you didn’t think he would give you up that easily. Would he?

You wanted to play with him one day and looked everywhere for him but you couldn’t find him. You asked an angel if they had any clue where he was but they said he was banished with his wife Lillth because they rebelled against heaven.

he seriously just left you like that? Without a word? To say you were angered was an understatement. you were FUMING. But you also couldn’t help but feel so miserable and depressed that he just left you like that.

you thought he cared about you just as much as you cared about him. But you were wrong.

After a couple hundred years when you became an adult, all of that anger and sorrow that you had stored you from Lucifer, you finally snapped. You took it out on the angels which led you to getting banished for being rude and improper.

The first thing you did in hell was change your appearance because you knew Lucifer was the king of hell and you really didn’t wanna see him again after what he did to you. (You also kinda regretted taking your anger out on the angels who did nothing to you.)

Your first couple months in hell were agonizing as everyone here was so different compared to the angels and people in heaven. It felt like you were an outcast.

You tried to not use your powers as much but when it got really bad you decided to collect their soul and feed it into your clock. Or you sometimes dropped time in order to collect their soul as well.

As you were walking in the streets of hell one day you heard an advertisement about a hotel and it caught your attention. You looked at the tv for the ad and it described a hotel where sinners can be redeemed if they just try to become better.

It sounded like a breath of fresh air compared to all these other advertisements for clubs so you decided why not visit the hotel? It couldn’t be so bad.

After a couple minutes of walking you made it to the hotel and knocked on the door. You were taken aback as a blonde haired girl hugged you tight and welcomed you to the hotel. But you also noticed Vaggie was there.

The blonde hair girl introduced herself as Charlie and also Vaggies girlfriend. (You congratulated Vaggie in private and also mentioned to not let Charlie know about her identity.)

As you were talking to Vaggie in private after being introduced to the hotel and welcomed she told you that Charlie was Lucifer’s daughter. You couldn’t believe it.

Not only did he leave you behind, but he started a whole family without you even knowing. You were in disbelief and asked Vaggie to not let Charlie know that you were her older sister technically.

You both agreed to it and went back to the lobby. Charlie couldn’t help but notice you had blonde streaks in your hair that looked similar to her blonde hair but she just shrugged it off.

You were also introduced to a man named Alastor and he greeted you very kindly. And before you knew it you guys started growing a daughter and father bond.

He treated you just like his daughter if he had one, he filled the parental role that Lucifer never did.

It made your heart happy knowing that you could finally have a father figure that you knew wouldn’t leave you. You guys bonded over the span of a couple weeks and you accidentally called him dad once out loud.

He didn’t mind though and said that you could even call him dad because he thought it was sweet that you saw him as your father.

As the weeks went by Charlie finally had an idea to let heaven approve of their hotel she just needed to call her father to schedule a meeting with heaven for her.

The one thing you didn’t expect her to do was to invite him over though. Fuck. What were you supposed to do now?! You really didn’t wanna see Lucifer again and panicked internally.

You helped the crew set up the hotel for Lucifer’s visit but your anxiety just rose more and more the closer it got to an hour passing by. (Since he said he was going in an hour)

Once it was finally time to greet him he burst through the door and hugged Charlie tightly since he had missed her, he also greeted kiki, and razzle and dazzle. It hurt a bit seeing how much cared for her but didn’t care for you.

You tried hiding behind Alastor a bit but Lucifer looked at his way when he pointed out the reservations and noticed it was you even with the changes you did to yourself.

His breathe got stuck in his throat and he couldn’t believe it was really you after all these years. Oh how he regretted never taking you with him.

He approached you and looked at you closely before saying “[reader], is that really you?…”

He brushed some strands of hair out of your face before pulling you into a hug. That was not something the other members of the hotel expected.

You pushed him off quickly though as you were still angry and uncomfortable with him.

He didn’t get why you pushed him off, he thought you still missed him after all these years of not being together.

It didn’t take too long for Alastor to connect the pieces since he was good observer. You had those blonde streaks in your hair for a reason no?… that’s cause you were related to the king of hell himself, Lucifer.

Alastor than put his hand around your waist pulling you closer. (Not in a romantic way!!) He than spoke up about Lucifer’s behavior. “Lucifer if you don’t mind excusing me but, what exactly are you doing with my daughter?”

Lucifer seemed in shock when he said that. “YOUR daughter? Oh please, you remember don’t you [reader]? It’s me your father, Lucifer! He had a desperate and nervous smile on his face hoping that you would remember him.

Before you could speak up Alastor cut you off and spoke first “Oh really? That’s quite funny cause [reader] calls me her father.”

The whole room went silent after that. Lucifer couldn’t believe it, Alastor was just playing around was he? You were probably just having an inside joke with him but no, you really saw Alastor as your father instead of Lucifer, your ACTUAL father.

You saw the heartbroken look on Lucifer’s face and didn’t know what to say in response but managed to mutter something out. “I’m sorry, but it’s been hundreds of years since that day happened, you need to let me go.”

After managing to mutter that out you excused yourself and went back to your room in the hotel. After Alastor and Lucifer fought over you and Charlie, (and after Charlie and Lucifer sang the song together) Lucifer knocked on the door but you didn’t answer so he teleported inside your room.

Only to see you and Alastor on your rooms balcony together. You were crying on the floor from the painful encounter and Alastor comforted you saying sweet words to make you feel better.

Before Alastor or you could notice Lucifer he quickly left and went back to his palace and rethought about his choices he made with you. He knew he couldn’t get his daughter back, it was already too late. If only he made the decision to take you with him.

note: I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!! please don’t be shy to send me requests, I’ll gladly write more fun things like this. ^_^

[aemondsladywife]

His Lady Wife

aemond targaryen x reader

author's note: eek this is my first angst fic and i have no idea if its good so please leave comments and feedback!! its very loosely based off othello with ofc aemond as othello and the reader as desdemona. this can be read alongside my other aemond x reader but also can be read alone!! i am working on part two for my other aemond x reader but i'm struggling w ideas so please drop me a message if you have any!! also please comment if you'd like to be added to my aemond x reader taglist <3

genre: very angsty, prepare for tears

the love between aemond and his dear wife would be in the history books one day, he was sure of it. there would be songs, poems and ballads written about the ardent love between them. a love which their great, great grandchildren would aspire to have. their love was refreshing in the court, all the other marriages were ones of duty but theirs was one of love.

that was until everything tumbled down. when you first became with child, you were estatic, you ran to tell your husband, who was over the moon. however, rumours had spread of your infidelity, that you had laid with one of the knights of the kingsguard and that you were pregnant with a bastard. at first, aemond didn't believe it, his beloved wife would never do such a thing. but he started to let his self doubt overcome his love for you.

"have you seen the knight? he's a far better swordsman and far better looking than the prince, you can't blame the princess."

aemond became overcome with jealousy and insecurity. it made sense to him, why would someone as perfect as you be with something as blemished as him.

then there was the stocking incident. one of your stockings, with your initials on it was found where the kingsguard trained which led everyone, including king aegon and prince aemond to believe you to be unfaithful.

you were walking in the gardens when you saw your husband. you had a smile on your face whilst your husband barely made eye contact with you. "what is it my love, you have been ignoring me?" you asked with concern evident in your voice.

"do not call me your love when you are carrying anothers bastard." aemond replied sharply.

"you do not believe the rumours? do you? aemond i love you, you know that? please don't do this." you took a step back and could feel your voice falter.

"i have arranged for our chambers to be separated. your maids will know where it is they will take you. the king was ready to have you killed but your family are needed." he said quickly and walked straight past you. it hurt him to see that he hurt you. he wanted to go back and apologise but his pride and insecurity got the better of him.

being isolated took a toll on you and your pregnancy. you were struggling greatly with no husband or friends in court other than your handmaid who you appreciated greatly. you saw how your mother was when she was pregnant and she wasn't anywhere near as unwell as you were. you were going to send a letter to your parents asking for their guidance but decided against it, you didn't want your father to storm down kings landing. breakfast, lunches and dinners you would spend alone in your small chambers as your husband refused to be in the same room as you, which hurt you greatly. you loved aemond so dearly, you went for spending to everyday together to months apart. most days you would spend weeping in your chambers praying to the gods for any form of relief. you preferred staying in your chambers than walking around court. you would recieve stares, looks and laughs from everyone around. it broke your heart, you had good relationships with everyone, with alicent, otto, daeron, haleana and even aegon, who would refer you to as his "good sister". now they don't even look in your direction.

it was his nephews nameday celebrations which hurt you the most. you played the role of the perfect wife, in the perfect relationship which almost had you believing that aemond was still in love with you, that was until he whispered in your ear that it was all a pretence.

but that didn't stop you from loving him. though you wished it did, maybe it would hurt less if you didn't love him anymore. at whatever opportunity to ask about his wellbeing you would, you even went as far as asking his mistress, who took pity on you and kept you updated. you still prayed for his health every night and prayed that the mother would take pity on your soul and relieve you of the pain.

although aemond was smart, he wasn't as smart as his grandfather, the hand. otto had his doubts regarding the infidelity rumours he had his child spies keep tabs all over westeros and after eight months of digging, he found the truth.

"speak up boy, tell the king what you heard"

the young boy bowed to the king before the hand's spy told the council what he heard,

"the rumours regarding the princess' infidelity were created by daemon and his old whore."

aemond looked up in shock, he felt his blood boil as he held the arm of his seat tighter.

"it was said that daemon knew the easiest way to seperate the greens was through his "fickle nephew" and that once word of the princesses disrespect reached the riverlands, they would switch alleigances to the blacks."

an uncomfortable silence hung the room. all eyes were on aemond who felt a mixture of anger, guilt and distraught. he spent the past 8 months slighting and hurting his chaste lady wife. the king knew his brother well enough to know how his mind was racing,

"i promise you brother we will take down the blacks. you will be the one to take our wretched uncle yourself i swear this to you brother."

once again silence befell the room. aemonds face was unreadable. the council sat in fear of his reaction as his mother held his hand in hopes to calm him down.

"eight months. for the past eight months my lady wife has been with child with my child and i have not spent a single day with her. the lady wife who loved me so loyally has spent eight months confined to a chamber not fit for a princess because of that pathetic cunt. no, his death would not satisfy me. i need more." the calmness in aemond's voice evoked a deep fear in the room. daemon's doing caused aemond's beloved to suffer at his own hand, they all knew that aemond would not rest until she was avenged. "as for now i need to see my lady wife."

as aemond got up from his seat, a maester and midwife covered in blood, sweat and tears entered. the only lady pregnant was his wife. his heart dropped. this couldn't be happening.

"your graces. the princess entered her labours a moon early-"

before the maester could even finish, aemond ran out of the room and straight to his wifes pathetic excuse of a chamber as fast as his legs could take him with ser criston his mother, grandfather and both his brothers close behind him. when he saw the limp body of his once beloved wife he fell to his knees.

"no, no, no. wake up my love, my love please. my love i am so sorry. please no my sweet girl come back to me, open your eyes once more, you do not need to forgive me my love, i will spend the rest of eternity at your feet please just come back to me. i was wrong my love, i'm so so sorry." he cradled her dead body, begging for her to awaken, praying to every and any god to bring his sweet girl back to him. he was overcome with guilt and anguish, the last memory he had with her ended with her heart shattering.

it was two months ago. you had a feeling that something was wrong with you or your babe but none of the maesters in court believed a word you had to say since the rumours.

"please aemond just listen to me for a second, i need to see the maesters in my fathers home, they will know what to do, they saved my mother once before." you begged aemond as you trailed after him with abnormal aches in your body.

"why? so you can run off to your father with that bastard and face no consequences? no you will stay him and have that bastard here and face punishment from the king himself." there was no mercy in aemond voice or gaze. he saw the way your face and body crumpled. his words cut deeper than any blade and you couldn't hide it. he felt a pang of guilt in his heart but he pushed it aside.

aemond felt the bile rising in his throat after remembering his last encounter with you. gods he would do anything to turn back time and fix things. he was so fixated on ignoring and avoiding you that all good memories of you were distant.

"i do not remember the sound her voice mother. i do not remember the sound of the voice that spent countless nights whispering sweet nothings to ail my troubled mind. i do not remember the delicate touch of the lady who dedicated herself to comforting me." aemond confessed with a heavy heart, staring and clutching on to his wife's cold body.

"please aemond do not do this to yourself-"

"do what mother? torture myself? torture myself as i tortured my wife? as if carrying a babe was not torture enough, i tortured her even further by abandoning her when she needed me the most. she had no one apart from her one handmaiden and tis no ones fault but my own. how could i doubt her? how could i be so foolish? the last time we spoke, she insisted that something was wrong with her or the babe and i ignored her. i killed her mother."

"yes, yes you did my lord." spoke up your handmaiden with your newborn daughter sleeping soundly in her arms.

"you can cut my tongue, kill me do whatever you like with me, my loyalties are not with you but the the princess whos blood is on your hands. she loved you so dearly, yet you turned on her with no hesitation after hearing baseless rumours. her father was ready to have his men pledge alliegance to the blacks after hearing your treatment towards his only daughter but she told her father that it was all lies spread by the blacks and that you still loved her. she prayed to the gods everyday that once the babe was born and you would see how that it is your trueborn child you would love her once more. but now she is longer with us and she died with a broken heart."

as ser criston drew his sword ready to cut the throat of the maid, the prince piped up,

"leave her be ser criston. she said no word of lie. no harm should come to the only lady who stood by my beloved's side when she was alone. i am in debt to her. you are free to leave my lady, i will ensure all provisions are made for you."

"as kind as your offer is my prince, i promised the princess that in case of her untimely death, i would remain beside her daughter until her eighteenth nameday and to hand you this letter." aemond looked up for the first time since he entered the cursed chambers as your handmaid passed the baby to his mother

"i have a daughter?" his voice trembled. you both always dreamed of having a daughter and whilst he wanted his youngest child to a girl, you wanted the eldest to be a girl. but that dream was now thwarted.

alicent choked back a sob as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms. "she's tiny aemond. she has your targaryen hair and eyes but she is her mother through and through."

he was lost for words. he couldn't fight it anymore as he began to sob as he cradled your body just the way his mother cradled his babe.

"read the letter out loud my lady. i treated my wife terribly there is nothing left to hide."

your handmaid was hesitant at first but read your last letter to your husband out loud.

"my dearest husband, dear husband,

you recieve this letter due to my untimely death but our child lives on. i do not know if this is news is joyous for you or one of regret but please do not take your hatred for me out on our child. i know our child will look like you as i have never laid with another but i am unsure to if you will ever believe me.

when you remarry and have other babes of your own, ensure that they all love one another and that their stepmother loves them the same. if you cannot ensure this, send our child to my parents, where they will be cherished.

please remember the love we once shared and share that love with our babe. i know that you may not want to to keep the portraits of us and of myself, but i beg of you to do so, even if its just one of myself. i would like for our child to know what their mother looked like. regardless of what happened between us, it hurts to say that i still love you as i did when i first fell in love with you. i hoped it wouldn't end like this but the gods work in mysterious ways.

your lady wife."

no one could hold back their tears. aemond knew the letter would hurt him, but knowing that she died thinking that he hated her, that he would remarry and that he may even celebrate her death killed him. he thought that the stranger visiting him would be less painful than what he was feeling at that moment.

"leave me be, i would like to say goodbye to my wife alone."

as he gazed upon her sleeping face, it set in to him that he would never wake up to her again. he would never hear her laughter again. he would never see her smile again. he pushed her hair back behind her ear as he used and pressed his forehead against hers. he could no longer fight the tears as his voice broke whilst speaking to you one last time,

"how could i ever hate you, my perfect girl? you have been nothing but good to me. you, who showed me what love is, you who made this pointless life worth living, how could i celebrate your depature. i love you my sweet girl. i love you so so much. and how could you think i would ever remarry, my darling? you captured my heart and now you've taken it to the grave with you. i cannot explain how sorry i am, gods i hope somewhere somehow you can hear me. i pray that the gods punish me for the way i hurt you. i allowed my anger, jealousy and doubt get the better of me. i was a fool to not trust you. you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be like this in my arms, we should be in bed, choosing names for our babe who shouldn't have been born yet. who looks just like you by the way. she's the only reason why i'm still here. for her. for you. i will tell her the stories of her one of a kind mother, i pray to the gods she'll be just like you. i will have even more paintings comissioned of us, of you my angel, anything you desire. until next time, my dearest lady wife, i love you."

as aemond laid her cold body down back on the bed, tucked her in and kissed her one last time, he found a small box under her pillows. it was covered in blood from her labors but it was still wrapped like a gift nonetheless. he opened to find 3 matching necklaces. one fit for a man. one fit for a woman. and one fit for a baby girl. all with a sapphire in the middle.

taglist: @fultimefangirl @hc-geralt-23 @vivianeviolet @whatsonthemirror @69cocktimusprime

*tags w a line through didn't work!!

[darkdevasofdestruction]

The White Rose of Jerusalem ~ King Baldwin IV x Reader

Summary: As a young girl, Y/N had the honour of marrying the King of Jerusalem, just before the healers found out of his fatal diagnosis. Though she had the choice of backing down from a fruitless marriage, she remained faithful to the young boy-King who captured her heart.

Note: I know the chance of people knowing this movie are very slim, but I was long fascinated by King Baldwin IV and re-watching this movie for the N-th time only reinforced that notion; And I’m too hyperfixated to study for exams, so I gotta do this.

Note 2: I have two endings in mind, one with a happy ending, which will be the default one, and another, with an angsty, sad one, which I will be writing under a line and a warning. :) Hope you’ll like it!

Note 3: The lyrics from the Angsty Ending come from the song ‘Luthien’s Lament’ by Eurielle, with some words alternated, to fit the story. Hope you like it, and that you will be compelled to check out her fantastic work! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4F3X5CrPn8I

She was just a little girl, not even a decade old, when she was chosen as the most fitting candidate at being the future wife of young lord Baldwin IV, the future King of Jerusalem. A beautiful lad with long locks of gold like a field of wheat shining in the summer sun, and eyes as blue as the celestial azure sky, fair skin, flawless and angelic like that of the most beloved seraphim, and a voice so soft and tender that would put anyone to ease.

Princess Y/N was so nervous - How could she possibly compare to... How could she possibly become good enough to stay around the future King of Jerusalem? Her worries were plaguing her mind so much, that she simply stared at him, with the eyes of a scared fawn, completely forgetting that she was supposed to do a pretty courtesy and speak.

But the boy could see your pretty face as pink as a lovely flower in bloom, from something as silly as nervousness around him; He chivalrously offered his hand for her to take, and he guided her away from the wave of adults they were surrounded by, and outside, to the lush gardens of Jerusalem where there was nobody to bother them. He hummed idly and scanned the place, before abruptly stopping in from of a bush, and cut a single white rose, which he de-thorned and put in her hair. “There, a beautiful flower, for a beautiful lady.” she couldn’t help but cast her eyes down, unable to meet his. “You see, out of all the flowers in the world, I think a white rose fits you best.” he smiled down at her. “Do you know their meaning, My Lady?” Y/N began biting on her bottom lip, whilst her fingers were anxiously fidgeting and picking at one another. “Forgive me for my rudeness, Your Majesty. I did not mean to disrespect you with my silence and awful behaviour.” The young lad tilted his head to the side in confusion, before reaching out to her hands, holding them dearly. “You have not offended me, My Lady. Still, I would like to request you not to harm such beautiful hands. I have never felt anything as delicate as them, not even flower petals.” her timidness was adorable, he noted. “You need naught feel uncomfortable around me, nor abide to such formalities. I would like for you to speak freely - You are soon to be my lovely wife, and I wish for you to become my confidante.” Baldwin could feel her hands tightening their grip slightly on his own. “I am asking again, whether or not you know the symbolism of white roses -- May I call you by your name? I wish for you to do the same in return.” “Y-Yes, of course, Your Majesty, you may call me as you wish.” the boy’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Baldwin. My name is Baldwin. Do call me that.” the alarmed look in those gorgeous eyes of hers, that resembled the most precious gems, only made him realise the overly strict upbringing that she had, so afraid to step the wrong way, or do any kind of misdeed, in fear of being punished, or quite possibly, bringing about Armageddon. “I-I could never show such disrespect to the future King of Jerusalem!” the boy let out an amused exhale, before gently raising her chin up to have her look at him. “Y/N. We are going to be married. For you, I will not be the King. I will be your Husband. If the two of us do not trust each other whole-heartedly, then who else can we trust?” Baldwin finally felt a little satisfaction once she finally dared meet his sight, only for her to bow to him deeply, which once again, confused him. “I wish I will one day end up being a person that you can rely on... Baldwin.” the childish smile of glee that the boy held made her heart leap. “I do not know much, but I wish to learn everything. I was limited in everything I was taught, in detriment of becoming the perfect wife and mother, fit for the King of Jerusalem, so much so that I forgot that I am allowed to live for myself.” “Then I will teach you how to live.”

Though she continued to be as shy as ever, barely capable of speaking up, especially to adults, Baldwin was graced with the most dazzling smiles from the young beauty, whom he’d teasingly call ‘My Wife’ with every chance he got. They were so adorable together, and so very in love with each other, that his elder sister, Sibylla, although jealous of their happiness, would often declare them as ultimate soulmates. They were glued to each other.

It was Baldwin who encouraged her to approach the horses and tend for them, and it was his instructors who taught her how to ride, so that they could ride together whenever they wanted to have some fun, by themselves; The young Price could see the remarkable bond she had made with all of the horses she took care of - Only the most gentle person could create such a connection with a sensitive animal like that.

They would write and recite love poems for each other, though the boy was much bolder than her, and would have to read her love confessions himself. In spite of that, she was content with singing for him, which would, in turn, urge him to ask her for a dance, outside, in the gentle moonlight.

Though he wasn’t one for painting, he loved all of the flowers that Y/N would paint for him - She only ever liked drawing flowers of all kinds, and pretty landscapes; And he would hang around all of her most precious masterpieces in his own bedroom.

They were doing everything together, to the point that Sibylla felt a little lonely, but Baldwin became even more enamoured with Y/N during one evening, when he was pondering over a chess puzzle made by one of his instructors; And there she came in, like Virgin Mary herself, brightening up his dimly lit room. She towered for a few seconds over the chess board, and moved a single piece before flicking over the enemy King piece. Baldwin looked up at her, then back at the board, and up again in complete disbelief - Such an easy solution, yet he kept overcomplicating a thousand useless and difficult ideas, only to end up with no outcome except for his own ultimate failure.

The boy shot up to his feet and engulfed his lady in his arms with so much love, kissing both of her cheeks. “You are a fantastic strategist, my rose! You are going to be my most treasured advisor!” “Oh, I could never - I just moved a piece, nothing that great!” but the boy shook his head vigorously.  “Nonsense! I’ve been losing nights over this, and I couldn’t figure it out! If it weren’t for your insight, I would have continued to agonise over it.” he explained tenderly. “Even the wisest of kings need new opinions and views.” “Then, I hope I will continue inspiring you in the future also, and that you will see me as worthy of staying by your side.” the boy could see small tears gleaming in her eyes, though she held the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. “I wish for nothing more than to see you succeed and be known in history as the best King that Jerusalem ever had.” with a burst of boldness, she embraced her fiance tightly, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck. “I love you.” “Generations forward will be hearing of the wisest and most supportive Queen of Jerusalem, the one who equally reigned alongside her King; the one so kind and caring that all our people will look up to her.” he smiled tenderly, his hand caressing her soft locks. “Just like the purest white rose, so innocent and beautiful, wise, enlightening, intelligent, inspiring of hope, compassion, peace, humility, understanding, tranquility.” cupping her face, he tilted her head so that he could touch his forehead to her own. “And representing of an eternal love, genuine and unbreakable.” his voice was so soft, so loving. “I love you.”

But this love was soon going to be put to test on one day, when the young prince was outside, playing around with other noble boys, while Y/N was making flower crowns and embroidering with the girls. The boys would pinch each other, and rough each other up, scratch and slap their arms; They made so much noise, crying out, whining, whimpering and yelling from paint, but it was Baldwin alone who uttered no sound, and remained as quiet as the lake.

“My love, you are bleeding!” Y/N rushed to his side, stopping his friends from continuing to play around.  “Oh, is that so? I have not noticed.” he looked down at his arm, examining all the marks left on his skin, and although they looked painful, he could barely feel anything more than a simple pressure. He could barely even feel her touch. “Have not noticed?! Your whole arm is in awful shape!” the girl shook her head in worry before turning around to look for any of his mentors. “Lord Godfrey! Lord Godfrey, please do come over!” once the man stepped in front of them, Y/N explained what happened - From the concerned look that the adult tried to conceal from them, the girl realised he suspected something with a grim epilogue.

The young prince was treated by the royal physicians the whole day, while Y/N remained alone in his room, pacing around aimlessly and agonising over the truth being concealed from her, yet after many hours, when the Moon took over the skies, and the stars were twinkling the brightest, Baldwin was returned to his bedroom. As Y/N tried to run over and engulf him in her arms, she was stopped by Lord Godfrey. “Princess, I know that you cherish the Prince dearly, but I bare terrible news. His Majesty is being suspected of a disease called leprosy. It would be unwise for you to keep in direct close contact, as you would be at high risk of also getting this curse.” Y/N looked up at the adult with tears rapidly streaming down her face. “It’s alright, my dear rose. I value your health and life above all else. If being apart will ensure your safety, then I am content.” “Don’t you dare say such blasphemy!” it was the first time Y/N ever raised her voice above that sweet, comforting mutter of hers. “Am I not your wife? Your soulmate? Your confidante?” she asked in disbelief. “I have promised I will be staying by your side, until the end of times - The amount of years matters little - But there is no life worth living if you are not in it. I would much rather live a short life, and be able to support you for as long as God may keep you on this Earth, than live a long life, cursed with not being able to see you again.” Even a hardened Lord like Godfrey could feel his heart trembling with emotion at the loving confession from the young lady, who fell to the ground and hugged the boy’s legs. “Please, my love, do not drive me away from you, unless you grow to hate me, and should I ever be so awful that I may make you despise me so, then may God strike me down where I stand, for I could not bare to be torn apart from you.” “Y/N, my love, please, never kneel before me. Out of all the people that I may be reigning over, you alone, shall never kneel.” Baldwin had to gulp down his emotions, though he felt light-headed from such a bold and heart-wrenching confession, and he helped her get up. “I do not want to give you this wretched curse, but I would be a liar if I were to say I were not selfish, for I want to hold you in my arms forever, just as before.”

The realisation that half of his right arm and the hand were completely numb completely shattered his father’s heart, and he had the best physicians, maesters, priests and what not to treat him with oils, ointments, poultices and even charms, yet nothing worked. Though Baldwin had quickly gotten used to the idea, Y/N continued being in denial, and took over most of the physicians’ work, entirely, from then on. She was his wife, and she wanted to take care of him for as long as they had together; She simply loved him so much, and this disease was killing her, more than it did him. Such an intimate thing, touching his skin, cleaning it with herbs and oils every morning, lunch and night before sleep, and she would wash his feet and hands, just like Jesus did to all of his apostles in the Bible. Baldwin felt himself wanting to cry - The love of his life shouldn’t feel compelled to take care of him like that; That’s what servants and healers were for; Yet all the same, he felt so grateful for having someone who loves him so much...

But with so much love, comes the uncertainty of the future, and when he stops being the beautiful Prince that he is now, and becomes blind, disfigured, and loses feeling in all his limbs, will she remain by his side? His heart will never stop loving her, and although the selfless part of him hopes that she would run away and find someone better, some handsome knight or lord to take care of her, someone healthy and with many decades ahead of him... He was still human, and he was selfish. He wanted those few years he has ahead of him to have her by his side, until he does not open his eyes to see the daylight again.

Years passed and tragedy struck Baldwin and Sibylla, once their father died and the young boy of thirteen had to be crowned. A mere boy of thirteen, forced to become the ultimate leader of God’s Kingdom of Heaven, with Raymond, count of Tripoli’s help through his regency, and the unshakable support of his wife.

Baldwin and Y/N stood straight and tall, with the grace and elegance befitting the King and Queen of Jerusalem, though the pressure was weighting heavy on their shoulders, and the lives of so many people, and their Holy Land, were in their hands. The archbishop stepped behind Baldwin and did a cross-motion over his forehead and said a prayer, before putting the crown over his head. “Behold, your rightful King and heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Long live the King, in prosperity!” people chanted ‘Long live the King!’, though it felt more like mocking, given his condition - Granted, the people were unaware of his leprosy, save for the physicians and the closer advisors - They had to be kept in the dark, at least until his coronation... What will happen further, was a mystery. The crowned Baldwin took the other crown from the pillow and stepped next to his beautiful wife, dressed so formally, with such grace and etherealness, that she looked akin to an angel. “I, Baldwin IV, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, choose Y/N L/N, the woman to be my wife, and with the help of God, she will rule her people with the same love and kindness as always, and continue supporting me wisely. Long live the Queen, in prosperity!” as the King placed the crown over her head, the people chanted ‘Long live the Queen!’ again and again, awaiting for their King to sit on the throne and be given the scepter and  globus cruciger, whilst the Queen was standing up next to him.

That evening, Baldwin and Y/N were finally allowed to formally spend the night in the same room, without earning scrutiny from the religious people around, who were bound to gossip senselessly. Wearing their sleeping clothes, the King was laying on his side on the bed, watching his Queen embroider a handkerchief, with his name written with golden thread. “Are you happy, Y/N?” the boy asked, suddenly. “I am happy that you have not forced me to abandon you. But I am not happy, knowing that your disease is disallowing you to live a normal life.” she answered with such ease, that it sent a shiver down his spine. “You are supposed to answer personally, not with tying your answer to someone else.” Y/N shifted her gaze upwards, a cheeky side-smile gracing her beautiful features. “And what if my happiness is tied to this certain ‘someone else’, as you like to call yourself?” she challenged him playfully. “Then, I would call you a fool in love.” he chuckled, smiling fondly at the girl. “And I would be guilty of the same charade.” “There is no room for guilt in love, my darling. Though duty is the death of love, I am allowed to make my own choices - This liberty, it was you who had given it to me, and for that, I will be eternally grateful.” she explained, placing the handkerchief on the table, before stepping by the bed and kneeling, leaning on the edge, their faces so close to one another. “You could have gone home with your parents, yet you chose to disobey them, and remained the wife of a leper, willingly. That was a silly choice. I am going to make you the youngest widow in history.” he spoke bitterly, and though his hand reached out to cradle her cheek, it ultimately fell down on the sheets, afraid to directly touch her skin, in fear of passing the illness. “And I will regret only not having met you sooner, and the cruelty of God, for taking his most beloved human so soon into his Eden.” Y/N took his hand and kissed his fingers, before placing his palm on her cheek. “But loving you, is something that I would do over and over again, if given the chance.” “I do not deserve you, my sweet rose.” he felt himself breathless, every time he heard her speak such tender words addressed to him. “Remember what you told me, so many years ago, to encourage me to live for myself?” he only wished he could feel her soft touch playing with his fingers so dearly. “Howsoever you are played, or by whom, your soul is in your keeping alone.” she cited him so perfectly, word by word, that is genuinely surprised him, after over 5 years, that she remembered his advice. “Even though those who presume to play you be Kings or men of power, when you stand before God, you cannot say - But I was told by others to do thus - Or that virtue - Was not convenient at the time -. This will not suffice.” “To think that so many years would come to pass, and you still continue to surprise me.” though he wanted to chuckle, this body froze entirely once Y/N climbed in bed next to him. “Y/N -- If you contract this curse because of me, I would never forgive myself.” “The Saracens say this disease is God’s vengeance against the vanity of our Kingdom. As wretched as lepers are, the Arabs believe that the chastisement that awaits you all is going to be far more severe and lasting, once you are thrown in hell. If that is true, I call it unfair, and that God is nothing but a farce, and life, a cruel joke.” she snorted unceremoniously, before laying down and cradling his body flush against her own, his head resting comfortably on her chest, and she was soothingly playing with his hair, lulling him to sleep. “To hell with anyone who can consider you anything less than an angel, for you are the kindest man I have ever met, and Jerusalem is lucky to be under your rule. The way I see it, God must have thought you so worthy of joining the highest angelic ranks, that he was unaware of a faster way of taking you to his side. It is, after all, the prettiest of flowers that we are quick to pick first and show-off to others, before they wilt in our hands, and we throw them away.” “I am truly honoured to have someone like you hold such sincere feelings for me, and speak only superlative words regarding me. I feel better, knowing that you do not think me lesser, or unworthy, in spite of this misfortune.” though his limbs were gradually getting numb, he could feel ever part of her body touching his own. “Y/N.” he called out her name, cuddling into her, like a cute kitten seeking comfort and warmth. “I am happy.” he was deathly afraid that he could somehow transfer the disease to her, but in that second, his senses were drowning in her love. “You make me happy.”

But the boy at three and ten winters, barely crowned and orphaned, had not expected to grow into the respectable young King that he became by the time he reached sixteen years of age, though by now, the entirety of Jerusalem was calling him the Leper King - They found out the inevitable truth of his condition, and despite the wretched ostracizing that all of those commonfolk cursed with this skin disease, he was able to show that a noble, wise, kind and strategic King and deserved all the respect of the world.

The young King had all of his advisors around him, telling him of all the risks, the cons and pros of going to war against the powerful leader Salah al-Din; They were greatly outnumbered, but if they weren’t going to war, the odd were high that Jerusalem would fall to the Muslims. Sitting on the throne, Baldwin felt himself unconsciously raising his hand to his forehead, feeling a migraine creeping, from the overwhelming amount of shouting and unnecessary bickering and arguing between each notable knight, commander and representative of each army under the command of the King of Jerusalem. He wasn’t one to raise his voice, nor did he bother - At the end of the day, men were going to continue being men, and they will continue trying to dominate and overpower each other.  At some point during that abysmal meeting, he noticed the frown on his Queen’s face, clearly irritated that the adults were creating more problems than offering good advice for him, and she could barely keep herself under control not to jolt up to her feet at yell at them to stop behaving like petulant children. Alas, neither of their Royal Majesties were known to raise their voice or even get angry at their subjects; After all, it would be beneath them to stoop so low, when virtue was everything they were supposed to embody.

By the time they returned to their shared chamber, Y/N sighed dramatically, complaining about the unbecomingness of those nasty advisors, whilst Baldwin couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. His sweet rose truly was adorable in everything she did. Instead of laying on the bed, the young lad sat in front of his chess board and stared intently at the pieces laid in wait to begin a game. Suddenly, a brilliant idea knocked him into a new sense of giddiness. “My sweetling, would you be willing to brighten my day by engaging in a game of chess with me? I cannot think of anything better that could relax me after such unnecessary stress.” His wife smiled at him with that loving tenderness, as she sat opposite of him and urged him to begin the game by moving his piece first. Baldwin carefully moved each of his pieces so that he would create the ultimate strategy, not only for his own side, but manipulate the girl’s pieces into well thought-out spots. In the end, it was Y/N who won the game, but it was him who started cheerfully laughing in triumph. “Never once have I seen a man so happy to lose a game.” Y/N smiled lightly. “What have you concocted, you little weasel?” “The game we just played, my love, contained my strategy for the upcoming war with Salah al-Din, with my side being the Muslims, and yours, Jerusalem.” he exclaimed with glee, getting up from the table. “Jerusalem will prevail once again!” “How cunning of you! Never once during this game have I thought you would be manipulating me into playing my pieces the way you wanted me to. You are wise and intelligent beyond your years, my love.” she praised him, stepping in front of him, and gently placing her hands over his face. She could see the way his disease was rapidly and heavily affecting him, and that once angelic face of his was now scarred and ulcerated beyond anything that the physicians resoluted or predicted. He had to learn how to guide his horse with his knees, instead of the tugging of the reins, as he lost feeling in his right arm completely, and the disease was quickly afflicting the skin of his other limbs also. “And neither will the Muslims, my sweet rose. They will be unable to retaliate, and will have to retreat back to Cairo.” despite all of the scars, and the way his golden hair was beginning to fall out and lessen, that adorable, boyish smile of his remained as charming as ever, and his crystal eyes were just as bewitching. “Will you please allow me to follow you in this crusade?” Baldwin was tempted, as her enchanting fawn eyes were his biggest weakness; His ration and wish to protect her was above even that, however. “I dearly wish to never be apart from you, but my love, you are the Queen of Jerusalem, and with me gone, there will be no one that I trust to rule the Kingdom. I need you here to rule over our people and keep them safe.” Y/N simply sighed and rested her head on his chest, her arms gently around his body. “As always, you are right, of course - If only that you weren’t! How many sleepless nights of worry will I endure, and nightmares shall plague me, until I receive good news from a dove, and am allowed to rejoice your victorious arrival?” the King chuckled softly, resting his chin on the top of her head, reciprocating her embrace. “How dramatic, yet poetic - I am honoured that you worry so much about me, but you needn’t, that is my oath to you. With your aid, my strategy will prevail, and with God’s providence, I have the courage to mount my horse and lead our people to victory.”

And true to his affirmation, the young King rode valiantly into battle, at Montgisard, and just as the strategy dictated, they gave the Muslims a run for their money, returning to Cairo very much defeated, and barely with a tenth of the initial army. Christianity had prevailed once again, and God had not turned his back on them yet.

“You should have seen me, my love, with the Holy Cross shining brightly with the light of Heaven, leading our army to victory! It was such a fantastic win, that I felt powerful as never before! I felt truly blessed and empowered - Like I will be walking the sacred lands for a whole century, and fighting for our faith!” the young King was laying his head in her lap, as she played with his golden locks; Whenever hair would freely fall off in her grasp, she would quickly throw it away, so that her husband wouldn’t have to see the way his beauty was being forcefully taken away from him by the cruel claws of Death. “If all the most beloved Kings were to live for centuries, our world would be a better place. You, especially, deserve to live for many, many hundreds of years, a prodigy above all else, and loved like no other before you.” his grin couldn’t be wiped from that pretty face of his. “Ah, if only that were true, my darling!” he exclaimed. “Now, I only wish to settle my sister with a new husband, deserving of her. With the death of William de Montferrat, and the birth of my little nephew... Sibylla is all alone, and named the heir to the throne once I am no longer.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have to take her with me on public affairs, so that the people would get used to her being the next ruler - But she is so against everything I try to do for her.” “Sibylla is still young and very beautiful, my darling, there is no need to worry over her future husband. I know time might not be on our side, but it is on hers. She will be fine, I assure you.” she leaned down to place a small kiss on his forehead. “I only pray that you are right, my dear. I love my sister dearly, and I only wish her the best.”

That wish, however, was never going to become reality, as come 1180, an adventurer under the name of Guy de Lusignan found his way in the Holy Land, and seduced Sibylla into marrying him. Baldwin was angry as never before, and even threatened to hang him for daring to debauch the Princess of Jerusalem, yet the tears of his sister and mother were enough to break his resolve and agree to this marriage out of love. That was the first mistake he did, and one that could never be rectified. Guy was a man that earned the scrutiny of the whole realm faster than any man before, and became the most despised being in the country, by all, except for his wife.

By this time, the King was turning twenty years of age, yet he knew he wouldn’t reach to see his age change its prefix again. His condition had gotten so severe that he completely lost feeling in his limbs, and he wasn’t allowed to travel. Not only that, but the skin ulcerations were so drastic, and his face was so disfigured, that he had the blacksmith forge a silver mask for him to wear at all times, and his body was bandaged in its entirety, and robed in white, covering himself whole. It was only his wife, Queen Y/N, that was allowed to gaze upon him, as she continued the ritual of bathing his sores and treating them.

Every day of his life, King Baldwin was happy that he hadn’t given his most darling white rose this accursed disease; Likewise, every day of her life, Y/N continued to pray to God that he may spare her beloved husband and cure that curse that afflicted his body and health - He was a worthy King, and most capable; one the likes that Jerusalem had never witnessed before - Surely, he deserved a blessing!

God, however, did not discriminate when it came to life-taking and misfortune. Be it King or peasant, Lord or fisherman, all had the chance to get sick and die before their time, no matter their worth, faith or the amount of good deeds done whilst roaming the earth.

The stress and all the incompetent people that advised him were none the wiser, and they only dug him an early grave, with all their arguing. Not only that, but Sibylla continued to deny her brother’s wish of divorcing that good for nothing scoundrel - The whole Jerusalem was against him and his lack of sense - Were he to become King, he would destroy the Kingdom of Heaven in a day. She was a fool in a love, but not like himself and Y/N. The Queen was right - Duty is the death of love, but the reverse was also available. Were Sibylla a simple woman, a merchant, or simply a living being without any responsibilities on her shoulder, her devotion would have been most applaudable - But she was the heir to the throne, and she had duties to the realm, she couldn’t afford to be so foolish and cling onto a man that would lead not only to her destruction, but to the whole realm falling into ruin!

By the time King Baldwin turned a most exhausting age of merely three and twenty springs, he was beginning to turn blind, as his eyes were incapable of shutting, and his corneas were burning and stinging him so excruciatingly painful, yet there was nothing he could do in that regard. Despite barely being able to walk around anymore, he had to deal with the consequences of that single mistake of allowing Sibylla to marry that incompetent Guy, who not only broke the pact that Jerusalem had with the Muslim by attacking one of their caravan and killing all of the people there, but he also dared massacre Salah al-Din’s own sister. How can his sister not see that this man was only going to bring ruination to their home? How can she continue devoting her life and affections to such a monster of a man, good for nothing and hated by all, whose head is set only on carnage and bloodshed, under the pretext of spreading the Faith and Word of God over the heathens that tried to obliterate them and convert them?

Thus, King Baldwin stood slumped in his throne glued next to the Queen’s; She gently held his hand, their fingers intertwined; He loved the visual of their hands being so intimately together, before all to bare witness at their pure and sincere love that transcended even leprosy and scrutiny, yet at the same time, he hated how he could not feel her hand, and that his own was bandaged over like a mummy.

“Guy de Lusignan and Reynald de Chatillon, with the Templars, have attacked a Saracen caravan.” just as always, the crowd of knights began fighting each other like a bunch of babbling baboons, until some person of authority yelled at them to keep silent.  “It was no caravan. It was an army headed for Bethlehem to desecrate our Lord’s birthplace.” Guy justified his immoral actions under the guise of protecting the Faith. “Reynald, with the Templars, have broken the King’s pledge of peace. Salah al-Din will come into this kingdom -- “ the Count of Tripoli was promptly cut off by the daring fool. Oh, how Baldwin wanted to let go of his reign and live the remaining days of his life in peace, alone with his wife - Yet knowing the Kingdom would fall into this monster’s hands, he could not, in good faith, abandon his people, nor could he see his Holy Land destroyed before his very eyes. “Tiberias knows more than a Christian about Salah al-Din’s intentions.” Guy got up to his feet, walking to the count, towering over him in an attempt to intimidate the old and seasoned Lord. “That I would rather live with men, than kill them... Is certainly why you are alive.” the knight sneered discreetly at him. “That sort of Christianity has its uses, I suppose.” the King and Queen shared a look of annoyance. “We must NOT go to war with Salah al-Din!” Tiberias exclaimed. “We do NOT want it, and we may not win it.” he was the single voice of reason left in that sea of idiots who cried out ‘Blasphemy!’ like a flock of sheep.  “An army of Jesus Christ which bears his Holy Cross cannot be beaten!” some Templar spoke with unbacked confidence. “Does Tiberias suggest it could be?” the scarred man remained silent, looking with disgust at the rest of the knights. “There MUST be war! God wills it!” those idiots were using God’s name as a means to bloodshed. The Queen could stand this complete disarray no longer, and though she missed the moment a servant brought the King a message to read, she shot up to her feet, and shouted at them the people for the first time in her life - Great was everyone’s surprise, especially Baldwin’s, to bare witness of something different than her otherwise honeyed and soft voice that soothed one’s worries. “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain.” she recited a line from the Exodus 20:7. “Are you suggesting we are using the name of God with unclean intentions?” Guy looked up with defiance at the woman, whose elegant and royal aura turned cold and stern, like a strict ruler. “I am your Queen, and you will address me as such.” she harshly snapped at him. “You, who are worth less than a worm, and held in no one’s graces, dare create such disorder in the presence of the King of Jerusalem. The disrespect you have shown is punishable by death.” she stepped towards him, head held high, dignified. “To think that all of you will be listening to the poisoned tongue of this viper; That you would summon God’s name, to commit bloodshed - Have you forgotten the Ten Commandments? Thou shalt not kill, it was written on the stone tablet given to Moses - Yet all of you are thirsty for war - Not out of Faith, but out of boredom. You listen to this warmonger who knows naught of diplomacy, of tactics and strategy - Lest of all, of the good of the people of the Holy Lands.” the crowd of knights could feel their blood freezing in their veins from such a scolding. “All of this, in front of the King! Such rudeness should be the cause of you yelling out Blasphemy! Not evident caution and refusal to go to war against an army that is outnumbering our own greatly!” “You talk much, but say very little... My Queen.” Guy taunted the Queen with blatant disrespect. “What would a woman know of war, when all she knows is to was to sored feet of a man that may not seen the world outside of these Holy walls in so long? You call me lesser, yet when the King is no more, neither will your title remain. We are the same - Lucky to have been chosen, yet worthy all the same.” “How wrong you are - For at the end of the day, marriage or not, I will continue being a Princess, yet you will be nothing more than the fourth son, good for nothing, landless and with no title - And most of all, a sinner.” the Queen drew the sword from Tiberias’s scabbard, pointing it at Guy. “Kneel before your Queen.” his eyes widened in shock at such an order. “Are you going to ignore a direct order from your Queen?” Guy’s head snapped towards the King, who waved his hand at the man, as to follow the order. “The Queen’s command is absolute.” Baldwin nodded his head briefly at the buffoon who dared disrespect his wife, not only in front of him, but in front of the whole court. He was glad that someone was putting that idiot to respect, however, he hated that his wife had to step over her kindness and get angry, for his sake. Begrudgingly, Guy knelt down, though he glared at the Queen with those scorned, dark eyes. In a swift move, the woman swung the heavy sword with such ease, ready to behead the man - Only to stop, right as she touched his neck, careful not to injure him. Sibylla was quick to shout at her to have mercy and spare him - That she loves him, and what not. She was ignored. “Do not mistake my past kindness and mercy, for weakness. I may be benevolent, but I do not tolerate disrespect addressed to me, to God, and especially to the King.” she returned the sword to Tiberias, who nodded at her in acknowledgement and approval. “That your head is not rolling to the ground for children to play is my final act of mercy and acceptance towards you. You disrespect the King, your disrespect Jerusalem. Trust me when I say it, Guy - I always mean what I say.” she returned to her seat next to the King, who handed her the message to read. The look on her face said it all - She was both concerned and terrified, not for her life, but for his own. “Salah al-Din has crossed the Jordan with 200,000 men.” the King spoke out once ultimate silence reigned over them all. “He’ll make for Kerak and Reynald de Chatillon. My Lord...” TIberias was the first to speak, walking over to Baldwin in an attempt to help him stand up. The King gestured him to stop, and subtly shook his head, as a way to show he was still capable of at least getting up from the throne. “We must meet him before he reaches Kerak.” the King whispered in his advisor’s ear. “I will lead the army.” “My Lord... If you travel, you’ll die.” the Count of Tripoli voiced the Queen’s concerns. “Send word to Balian to protect the Queen and the villagers.” the King addressed the crowd then. “Assemble the army.” came his resolute order that earned a chant of happy cheers from the knights.

The King did not wait to consult with the Queen - Instead, he went into his room to rest, for on the morrow, he would be marching towards Kerak to create some kind of temporary peace treaty with the Muslim leader. Y/N shared a look with Tiberias. Fear was welling deep into her eyes - She was terrified. The nightmares that kept plaguing her every night were coming to fruition much faster than anticipated. Her husband was going to die. “Tiberias... I know you care for the King as much as I do. Though we both know his mind will not be swayed... Please, do try to keep him away from this journey.” her voice became a weakened whisper. “I cannot bare the thought of losing him so soon.”

Tiberias could feel his heart impaled, yet he was unable to utter a single word. He placed his hand on her shoulder, as if to show they share a similar kind of pain, and he hung his head. Y/N went to their shared room, and seeing her husband sitting on the chair, by the chess board, she fell to the ground, hugging his feet and placing her head on his lap as she wept. “Please change your mind, my love! Do not go to your death, not so soon! You are so young, still so strong -- I cannot... I cannot imagine living without you.” Baldwin sighed, his eyes stinging, yet feeling a little relief from the forming tears that were wetting his dry eyes, and his bandaged hand was placed numbly over her cascading hair, petting it. “Forgive me, my sweet rose.” he spoke with a shaky voice. “I did say I was going to turn you into the youngest widow, yet I did not imagine my condition would hinder me from even reaching thirty years of age.” even his body was softly trembling, in tune with her pitiful sobs. “Forgive me for breaking your loving heart. I was not the husband that you deserved. I was unable to bring you happiness, nor pleasure, nor was I capable of creating a family with you. God had forbidden me from even touching your body, in fear of transferring this curse upon you... He had denied me the feeling of your delicate skin, and a normal life span spent by your side.” “Do not say that!” she exclaimed, raising her head. “You have been more than I ever deserved. You have been more than I could ever dream of, even. I never desired for anything in life, except to see you alive, every time I woke up, and to feel you heart lul me to sleep, as you held me so dearly in your arms. For as long as I could hear your tender voice... Just knowing you were alive... It was all that I ever needed.” she reached her hands up to his face, taking off his mask and revealing the horrific, disfigured visage of the one seraphic boy. “If I could, I would trade all of my tomorrows, just to spend another night with you. I would trade all of my days, so that you could keep on living on, for as long as I would have. I would take the disease upon me, just to rid you of this curse. I would accept even being purged by the divine fires of retribution, if it gave you your health back.” her sight was blurred with the amount of tears hindering her and rivering down her face. “But to hell with God, and with the Faith, and with everything there is! Why must a good man endure misfortune after misfortune, and die young, whilst incompetent, evil bastards like Guy keep on living and thriving so frivolously?! I prayed day in and day out, and I have devoted all of my being to God, but instead of returning your health, he is taking you away from me even faster!” she wailed so pitifully, that Baldwin felt his entire being shattering before her anguish. “What kind of sin have I committed, that I cursed the love of my life as such a tender age, just a little after I have met him?” “You couldn’t possibly think to blame yourself for my disease.” he scolded her in complete disbelief. “Y/N, my love, never think that way.” he placed his hands on her elbows, urging her to raise, only to guide her to sit on his lap. Her slight panic was quickly shushed with a reassurance. “I am ill, not made of glass. If anything, this proximity could only serve to energize me.” Y/N gently held his hands and took off the bandages, revealing the severe ulcerations, the leathery skin and the open sores, red and painful, were it not for the numbness. She kissed his fingers lovingly, before placing his palms over her face. “Were I a mighty Phoenix, I would be able to heal all of your wounds, with the amount of tears I have shed. I would be able to fly into battle by your side and spit fire over our enemies, but also thrill a song of bravery and victory to embolden our army.” she took a ragged breath, stammering over her words. “But I am just a woman, powerless, and foolishly in love with one man, who is dying before her very eyes, and can do nothing but live in fear that he may take his last breath when she is not around him.” “You always did leave me speechless with your love confessions - And that is no easy feat, my sweet white rose. To say that I love you, is an overstatement... Yet God may strike me when I say... I do not love even He, the way that I love you. My only regret is that I was not able to even kiss you, when I was still young and handsome, fitting of a young King. I wish only to make you the happiest... If only life was not so cruel with us.” Y/N leaned down slowly, placing her lips over his own, completely uncaring of her malformed mouth, or the possibility of catching the disease herself. She wasn’t planning on living longer, if he wasn’t going to be alive and hold her hand any longer. “A silly woman, foolishly in love with a silly man, just as foolishly in love with her.” he muttered, gazing at how beautiful she was, even with eyes puffy and sparkling with tears, and skin twinkling wet. 

The King guided his Queen to the bed and cradled her into his arms to cry as much as hear dear heart needed, all whilst playing with her hair, as much as his useless fingers allowed him to, and whispered a string of endless sweet nothings, though he was aware, no word of love was going to sooth or mend her shattered heart, and the fact that his lack of days were the cause of it was a bittersweet knowledge.

On the morrow, the King nodded at Tiberias, placing his hand gently over his horse’s snout to urge it to kneel so that he could mount it and ride towards Kerak, where he would face Salah al-Din and propose a truce. The journey was long and arduous, lasting a whole week on horseback, yet he rose tirelessly, and slept like a baby in the tent, every night. There were no physicians by his side, nor his Queen, to wash and treat his skin damage - But it was fine, he wasn’t going to live long anyway, so it mattered little.

After seven long days, they reached Kerak, the stronghold of Reynald the Idiot, and with the King of Jerusalem in front and the shining-white Holy Cross that brightened up the battleground, the King, dressed the part, rode and faced the leader of the Muslims. 

The two king met, face to face, horse to horse - One, the Splendor of Christianity, dressed in full white, yet with a silver mask and the light-blue tabard of Jerusalem, and his horse was the same, white and pure, as was his virtue and soul. The other was dressed in black, and his horse was black also, to represent his own faith and leadership to his people, but also, his humbleness. The two stared each other in the eyes, siesing each other but, yet it was Salah al-Din who spoke first. “I pray you pull back your cavalry and leave this matter to me.” “I pray you retire unharmed to Damascus.” the King replied, his eyes seemingly unblinking behind his silver mask, adorned with crosses and swirls, to represent his Faith and Love of God. “Reynald de Chatillon will be punished. I swear it.” the man vowed, speaking in a soft, yet firm tone. “Withdraw, or we will all die here.” the two’s silence, as they stared each other up, was this time interrupted by the Christian King. “Do we have terms?” The Muslim leader only had one fear, and that was of the Leper King, who so easily bested him at merely 16 years of age, and heavily outnumbered; Now, older, yet with a frailer constitution, even the ghost of him could send a shiver down his spine; A rival worthy of his respect. “We have terms.” he nodded at him. “I will send you my physicians.” he humbly offered, wishing his rival to remain alive and healthy, for as long as he may. “As-salamu alaykum.” he King of Jerusalem tilted his head down and bowed his hand as a sign of respect, wishing him and his people peace. “Wa alaykumu s-salam.” Salah al-Din rose his hand and replied with the same respect, wishing him the same.

The two leaders of their faith turned their horses around, and Sibylla watched from the safe fortress, as her brother was victorious in avoiding an all-right war, and rode towards the stronghold of Reynald, who quickly ran, disheveled, to greet the King, who gracefully rode before him, and commanded his horse to kneel, so that he may dismount. Reynald offered a courtesy, as the King stumbled in front of him, whipping out a wand from his waist. “On your knees.” he ordered, with such disgust as no one has ever heard him before. Reynald did as instructed without hesitance. “Lower.” he had to be deeply punished for all of his thoughtless actions that served to ruin everything he worked so hard to build for his people. In an exhausted breath, yet still as kingly, he spoke “I am Jerusalem.” with another swift move, he took off the glove of his left arm, and the bandages, revealing a thoroughly maimed hand, along with a golden ring with a large ruby. “And you - Will give me the kiss of peace.” he extended his seeping, untreated, dirty hand towards Reynald, who started slobbering and kissing his fingers without hesitation.

From disgust and anger, the King used the scepter to strike his face - One, twice, and a few more times, until the idiot was on the ground, cradling his injured face.  Though the physical exhaustion took over His Highness, and as he turned around, he stumbled to the ground, and into the sand. It was Tiberias who rushed to support him to stand, along with two guards, that helped him lay on a comfortable couch, as the Count of Tripoli commanded the arrest of the idiot. With a nod at the man, the King was risen with the bed, and carried out, so that he may return to Jerusalem, with the much needed aid, before he may return by himself, on horseback.

Once returned, however, the guards that greeted them started yelling ‘Imposter!’ and claiming the King that led them to Kerak, the King that settled peace with Salah al-Din, their most feared enemy, the King that punished Reynald - He was an imposter, and the real King Baldwin IV was in his study;  The Imposter was quickly immobilised, struck down and roughly brought over before the real King, whilst the Imposter was thrown to the ground to kneel, despite Tiberias and the other knights’ protests and attempts to stop such blasphemy.

Before their eyes, however, the knights witnessed two Kings - One a little taller than the other, and dressed in his normal robes, sitting on the throne and reading; The other, on the ground, just smaller, and with the War outfit on. The King of Jerusalem rose on his feet, startled at the sudden disturbance, and the peculiar sight before his eyes; It would have been almost hilarious, were he not enraged at the guards having been so rough with the Imposter, when he did not ordered them so. “You may release that one.” though the guards looked in shock at the orders, they complied. “Of course, there is no one who knows me better, than yourself. I was foolish to believe you would just remain quiet, at home, where I asked you to be. You fool.” his scolding was light-hearted and tender. “Tiberias, tell me, how did the affairs go?” “Your Majesty... Ergh... Salah al-Din agreed to a truce, and Reynald de Chatillon was severely punished... By... You.” the Count of Tripoli found it difficult to voice out the ambiguous message. He was upset that he did not realise the truth sooner; He had let himself be tricked, and so well. “All of you - You may leave.” the King ordered with a dismissive yet respectful wave of his hand. “But -- My King -- The Imposter --” one of the knights stammered over his words. “There is no Imposter, but a loving Queen who was ready to accept anything may come, to save her husband from a life-ending journey.” the King stepped in front of the Imposter, and taking the silver mask off, revealed the beautiful face of the Queen; The revealed earned an ocean of protests and gasps - How was a woman capable of not only fooling everyone, but of mimicking the King so flawlessly. “Perhaps it is not that you know me best, but that you know me better than even I know myself. Truly, I am honoured, and my heart soothed with honeyed mead, to know that you have gone through such trials, for my sake. Foolish indeed, yet with such positive outcome that I am incapable of feeling anything but happiness.” with some difficulty, he knelt besides her, so that he may pick her hands and get her up. “As I told you so many times, my love, you do not bow to me, for it not I alone, but the both of us, that are Jerusalem.” “My sweet King, I bare good news, for once!” Y/N spoke for the first time since she’s arrived; Though her voice was weak from dehydration, not only was she happy that her quest was a success, and that her darling Baldwin was not upset with her tricking him, but she was also smiling so brightly, so much so that it surprised the young man, as he hasn’t seen her so genuinely blissful since they were children. “Salah al-Din sent over his physicians, and they offered a gift - It is called Chaulmoogra oil, and they said people in India and China use it to treat leprosy - The statistics show great improvement, unlike any other treatment before. That man truly respects and cherishes you as a rival, and a leader, my love.” Baldwin froze on the spot, seeing the woman reveal a rather large carafe that she kept hidden underneath the robes, hanging from the sash. Were it not too hasty to have hope again? A miracle treatment, so suddenly, for him? And even if he does get treated, his face will never recover, and he doubts his limbs are going to feel again. Still, he was unable to refuse her, seeing as it was the only thing that put such a genuine smile on her face, after so long. “Alright, my sweet flower - For you, I shall try any treatment, no matter how revolutionary or eccentric.”

He could barely keep himself standing up, as Y/N, in a fit of euphoria, threw her arms around his neck and swayed him. The treatment made him nauseated more often than not, and he vomited at some points, yet after good weeks of continuous intake of this oil, added with the herbal cleaning and ointments for his skin, and regular walking, his body was beginning to feel a little stronger than previously - It almost felt that he was getting younger. It was a scary feeling, for it was so good and hopeful, that he feared losing it, and in turn, Y/N’s happiness.

As Baldwin began regaining his strength, and to some degree, even the feeling in his arms and legs, and he was properly capable of holding a sword again, he was emboldened to think of a future of his own. First, he asked Sibylla whether he agrees to divorce Guy, especially now that she knows how awful of a man he was - But once again, he was denied - Thus, he was forced to exile this idiot, and with him, his sister also followed. With the timely death of his nephew, Baldwin V, at the mere age of 10, the King realised he had no direct Heir to ascend the throne once he dies, whenever that may be, and as he was incapable of creating an heir himself, and with Sibylla refusing to step up as a Queen, if Guy does not ascend with her; Once again, it fell on poor Tiberias to help out with this matter. He trusted Balian to become a good King, but of course, he wanted to live a peaceful life, as a blacksmith, not restrained by the burdens of a King.

Next, he had to get rid of both Guy and Reynald, permanently, so that there would be no risk of enticing the Muslim Leader to wage war on Jerusalem; Especially as he has him to thank for his unexpected recovery, and for as long as he may live, he will remain eternally grateful for his kindness.

Baldwin fortified the walls of Jerusalem and strengthened the bonds with the armies under him, and kept the Kingdom of Heaven safe. It was a true wonder, being able to stand on the balcony, with his wife’s arms around his body, and watch the starry night illuminating the city to beautifully, and the song of the crickets and toads resounding soothingly through the place. 

Though he was still uncomfortable with letting go of the mask, knowing well enough that people will keep being horrified of his disfigured face, he felt at ease, dancing with his lovely white rose around their room, hearing her sweet giggles, and seeing that beautiful, dazzling smile of hers that captured his heart, from the very first time that he laid his eyes on her.

Baldwin was a fool, so deeply in love with Y/N, that he prayed to God every day not to make him up from this reverie, for he is eternally grateful for keeping his Faith in times of need, and that He replied to him with the greatest gift there was - Not just the treatment, but his Queen’s happiness restored. The glee of a fool in love.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------                                           ANGST ENDING -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though the quest that Y/N embarked on was a success, once she returned to Jerusalem, she was met with the reality of her husband’s health, which was degrading at such a swift pace, even without the journey made. It was ridiculous, thinking that she went through all of that, yet it aided Baldwin with nothing, save for two weeks of worry over her well-being. What a disaster, she thought to herself, as she returned to her room, her head hung, and discarding the Kingly outfit with annoyance and disgust, as though she was a little brat throwing a temper tantrum.

“I do not have the power to say how worried I was over you, for I cannot help but be so proud of my Queen, and infinitely happy beyond the horizon, to feel your heart soulbound to mine own. I missed you more than the deserts miss the rain.” though he tried to reassure Y/N, he knew he wouldn’t be seeing the change of the seasons.

And his prediction was correct; Soon, he was unable to move whatsoever, and his white outfit was changed with a royal black and golden one; Even his silver mask was replaced with a golden one, and he could only lay on the bed, his eyes mostly closed, and awaiting the sweet release of death.

Unexpectedly, Y/N was came over, smiling, but also crying, holding a goblet filled with honeyed red wine; She sat comfortably over his waist, looking down at him - She looked like a child, with her eyes glazed, and expression slightly dazed - And she took another gulp of the wine. “Oh. Hello, my sweet white rose.” it was difficult for him to speak, and though he wanted to address her unexpected drunkness, he couldn’t. He knew his time was ending, and perhaps selfish, he wished to see her smile as the last thing he’d witness in this world. “What were you dreaming of, my love?” she slurred cutely, dropping the now empty goblet to the ground, her hands placed on his chest, and slowly roaming up to his chest. “How great it would have been, if we were not separated by a curse.” she hummed, allowing herself to fall over on the bed next to him, smiling widely. “We are in the earthly Kingdom of Heaven. Once we reach the Celestial Heavens, there will be no afflictions or diseases hindering our love any longer, and for the rest of eternity, in the afterlife, our love shall continue onwards, transcending this unseen barrier between us.” she nuzzled into his side; Baldwin wasn’t sure whether she was giggling, or sobbing - Yet he was pretty sure she was doing both. “We will be ruling over nothing except our love, and we will have no responsibility, except to ourselves. We will finally be free to live, and to love... And to be happy.” “My love... What was in that wine?” with a lethargic move, Y/N pulled him into her body, his head resting onto her chest.  “What were you dreaming of, my love?” she asked again - The excruciating revelation dawned on him - Y/N had poisoned herself. She could not bare seeing him die before her eyes, she couldn’t bare him dying before her, and her having to endure all the agony of a lonely life, with a shattered heart, never to be mended again. She cared little whether people would find out she killed herself, and she would get beheaded. Her only wish, written, was to be buried with him - Wish that she also voiced to him. “I was back in that summer, when I defeated Salah al-Din.” if he could cry, he would, not only for himself, but for Y/N feeling so heartbroken that she felt compelled to end it all. “Do you remember it? We were only 16.” “Of course I remember. I was so worried for you, out there, without anyone to care for you. I was praying to God every hour I was awake, to keep you safe, and have you return to me. I remember I jumped on you from happiness, as soon as you dismounted your horse. I toppled you to the ground. The Archbishop yelled at me for not behaving like a Queen, but Tiberias pushed him away, so he wouldn’t bother us.” he could only offer a weak, breathy chuckle as a reply. “You are as beautiful as the white rose that I put in your hair, that day, when we met. I am truly honoured that I had the fortune of being your husband. No man ever felt love, as much as I did, thanks to you.” he stole one last good look at her, before settling comfortably in her embrace. “My sweet white rose.” he called out. “Will you sing for me?” “Yes, my love. Allow me to sing you to sleep.”

I seek a man named Baldwin Whom I bid await me here I pledged that I would see him Before he leaves this sphere

This man of whom I speak He gave his heart to me But thence my soul grew weak And at last it too broke free

So borne upon an urgent breeze I travelled to his place Where only one thing could appease The torment I now face

Oh tell me I am not too late To see my love once more For that would be too cruel a fate I beg him be restored

That we may take a little time To bid our last farewell And remember all we shared erstwhile Such joy no one could quell

For never was a greater love Than that within our hearts Once born, forever binding us Through not e’en death we part

Who was the first to ascend to heavens, not even God knew, for they both appeared before him, holding each other so tenderly, looking like the most beautiful youth, foolishly in love with each other.

As in Eden, so on Earth, the two were found cradling each other, though the heart beat that once lulled the other to sleep, was no longer present; Yet a smile adorned both of their faces.  Just as left on the note, Y/N was buried together with King Baldwin IV - The King and Queen who loved each other more than any before, and certainly, any in the future also - The two lovers who could never be torn apart, in life, death, or anything in between.

Up there, however, they were no a pair of King and Queen, but just a man and a woman, fated to eternally love each other. They were just themselves - Y/N and Baldwin - Two fools, so foolishly in love with each other.

[ttulipwritezz]

King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter  3 - Helpless 

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and Lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you had left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 2.2 k

Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, kiss(es), might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks and thoughts ( idk), love (ew), Sirius is back, mentions of torture, abuse, walburga black, abandonment, fear of feeling helpless, screaming ig, abandonment [ look at series masterlist for all content warnings]

A/n: I am actually so, so proud of this chapter. It's slightly longer than the others and a little more angsty. LOTS of conflicting feelings. Remus is kind of an ass, but no one's perfect :) But I’ll have it be less sad in the next few chapters following ch 4. I think? Thanks for reading and please reblog and/or comment. If you like this :) likes don't do much on tumblr <3

Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist, Navigation

With a furrow of his brows, Remus glanced towards Sirius when the two of you made your way to the dining hall for the order meeting.

If Sirius noticed, he didn’t say anything. Molly ushered the children out of the hall and Kingsley started the meeting.

They began with new information and ended with assigned missions. With your absence from the order for so long, you seemed to be the least informed amongst them all. So far you knew that Kingsley worked for the ministry and was secretly helping lead the order under Dumbledore's guidance.

And that there was an incredibly intelligent woman at the end of the table. Nymphadora Tonks. Don’t call her that though.

The name Tonks was awfully familiar to you. Until it clicked. She was your niece! Your cousin’s daughter.

Oh how she’d grown up. 

Along with this, you got to know about Peter’s betrayal and how he had framed your brother. Peter… You really did treasure his friendship at one point. You grieved him just as you had the others. To know that he was a traitor and sent your brother to Azkaban and was partially responsible for your husband's leaving, left you seething, to say the least.

You wanted to crush that thick skull of his with your bare hands.

 Noticing your discomfort, Sirius put a hand over yours, so as to say…you’re okay.

~

“you’re okay. You’re okay” At this point you weren’t sure whether Sirius’s words were meant to convince you or convince himself. His chest rising and falling rapidly to accommodate his frantic state.

Walburga’s yelling could be heard from the other room.

“YOU DISGRACE! YOU IMBECILE! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!” Her yelling did little to calm your trembling and even littler to quiet your sobs.

You do not know what began another one of her scoldings, you don’t remember what you’d done to be on its receiving end yet again. All you knew is that Sirius was punished with the cruciatus curse and you were going to be next. Despite his state, all Sirius thought about was you. How his baby sister was hurt, scared and in so much pain.

That night Sirius left, with you, nothing but his wand and jacket hung about his arm as he led a trembling you out of the house and ran.

That night Sirius ran, he ran till his legs burned. His calves ached and his chest heaved. He ran and ran and ran. He ran to the only place he could think of. He ran.

“Don’t you dare come back! You disgrace to the Black Family name!” Walburg’s words were still ringing in his ears by the time he made it to potter manor, and you weren’t in a much better state yourself.

As soon as the door opened to the frantic knocking, it seemed as though all the adrenaline left Sirius's body and he collapsed right into James's arms. You stood there, eyes stinging, heavy with exhaustion. That was when you truly felt helpless.

~

The next morning, you awoke to voices. Not the ones in your head, ones from outside. With little energy you opened up your eyes. The brightness of the morning sun blinded you for a moment, and that suffocating feeling came back.

You sat up so fast that your head started to spin. Your eyes were wide and your breathing erratic. 

As you were ready to look around your surroundings, ready to see exactly where Walburga had put you again, a hand came into your field of vision. A bruised hand, ready to help.

Sirius gently hovered his hands over your cheek, careful as to not touch you. His eyes held the utmost kindness and compassion. He had woken up from one too many nightmares himself.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure yet it provided you with the comfort you seeked at the moment.

Your shoulders relaxed and you Jumped forward to embrace him. You were safe, you were okay.

Once most of the order members left, You began to count just how many people will be staying at grimmauld place for the time being.

You had a place further away from this merlin forsaken house. That felt like home. This didn't 

You and Regulus had only shown up a couple days ago to tidy up and be prepared. Technically, you owned it, and there was nothing your mother’s portrait that hung in the second floor corridor could do about it. She was dead.

The Weasleys, Harry, Hermione and Sirius were all staying, there was more than enough room for them. What you dreaded was Remus’s presence. 

Gathering up all the courage you could, you decided to talk to Remus. No time like the present! Should be a piece of cake!

Wrong.

Remus avoided you every chance he got. And you can’t blame him. 

Okay...perhaps you were avoiding him a teeny, tiny, itty, bitty bit as well…

Okay! you were avoiding him fully.

But you can’t blame yourself! It’s hard.

What are you supposed to say?

“Oh hey husband who left me to process severe trauma and grief on my own..you have a KID! He’s 13! You know him already! :D ”

Making faces at your inner monologue wasn’t helping though, because you jumped the moment your eyes caught a figure leaning against the doorway, right arm up against the arch as the other finds purchase on his hip.

Remus.

Remus, your husband, was watching you make faces at yourself to talk to yourself for the past..you don’t know how long.

For a moment you just stared at each other, blinking and making no noise.

Then a smile broke out on his face, which subsequently led to one on yours.

He was the first to break the silence.

“So…How are you?” he pursed his lips after he spoke.

Strange, you considered. That’s how he begins a conversation?

Your eyes move across the room, he’s staring straight at you. It feels like he can see right through you. That he can see the gears turning in your head.

“I’ve met Regulus before…At Hogwarts, I mean. I was his DADA professor.” He says after noticing your silence.

Getting a noise of affirmation from you in return encourages his to speak further.

“Who is he? To you? I know the name isn’t exactly new” His head tilted to the side in the way a kicked puppy's would. 

From where you’re standing, in the little light, you can see his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he gulps, nervousness obvious throughout his being.

You don't lead with “he’s your son”. No. You begin short and simple. 

“He’s my son.”

You hope your voice doesn't reflect the fact that a lump has formed in your throat. You hoped your voice wasn't trembling like your hands.

A look washes over Remus's face. One you’d describe as recognition…or perhaps disappointment. In you or himself, that you wouldn't know.

Being from the Black family, you never hid your true thoughts. Feelings? sure, but thoughts? No.

“Disappointed are you? In me or yourself?”

There was a sass to your words you didn't expect. Once again a smile seems to tug at Remus's lips, stretching the scar, you didn't recognise yet, ever so slightly.

“Ever the witty one, my love” his words were airy. More relaxed.

Certainly too relaxed for your taste. There was no way he was so apathetic towards this. Not when it hurts you like a thousand hexes.

“Don't.” 

You don't know what gave you the sudden strength, the sudden courage, to stand your ground. What made you narrow your eyes and cross your arms.

What made you suddenly reject the light atmosphere he had created, while you so clearly longed to be in his arms. Heaving a sigh, you continued.

“You don't get to just come back and call me your love. You can't do that to me. Not again.”

Your voice was but a mere whisper towards the end of your sentance.

Not again. That's what you told yourself when you saw Remus this morning. You weren't going to throw yourself into his arms again. 

But how could you not when his arms just looked so warm and comfortable?

How could you when you’d spent fourteen years without them?

You were hoping he’d pick up the forgiving glint in your eyes and apologise.

His gaze flickered throughout the room. As if somehow that would answer you. First the lamp, in the furthest corner. Then the carpet caught his attention. Then suddenly the marble countertop seemed oh so interesting.

After what felt like hours, but really must've been a minute, he began to break the silence.

“Right…uhh-”

You watched as he paused, a divot appearing in between his brows, scrunching together, as a look of realisation crossed his features.

“-how old is he?”

The words escaped him with urgency, as if knowing this was extremely crucial.

It was, you just didn't know that.

“He’s fourteen- will be this year.”

Your mind was racing with thoughts, surely Remus wouldn't need to ask something so trivial.

It felt as though you could see the gears turning in his mind. He was so deep into thought.

But then his eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened.

“He’s mine.” He wasn't asking though, despite it sounding more like a question than affirmative.

That, you didn't expect.

And now you were the one who’s gaze was skittering across the room in hopes of finding an answer.

He knows. He knows. Oh Merlin he knows!

“He’s mine.”

Remus repeats, his voice comes out choked. As if he was ready to cry any moment.

Hearing a sniffle, you looked up to see Remus bringing his hand up to his face, which was rather red, and covering his eyes much like a little kid would.

You felt horrible, how could you hide this from him.

No. You did the right thing. He didn't want you. He wouldn't want Regulus either. He left! Awful. Awful! Bad!

“I have a son?”

You could definitely hear the tears in his voice, his light, choked up sobs echoed through the room. 

Hey, that's how you reacted when you found out too. 

You felt the sudden need to apologise. You shouldn't have to.

“Yes.” 

You settled on that. Yes. That's all he needed to know.

A flurry of questions bombarded his mind.

“Why didn't you tell me?” 

He looked angry. Why was he angry? He has no right to be angry.

You were furious.

“Why do you think Remus? Why do you think I hid him from you? Are you that daft!?”

 An incredulous chuckle accompanied your words. You were seething. And you weren't done, so you continued.

“You left me! James and Lily died! My brother was sent to Azkaban. And you left!”

Your volume was rising by the second. You're certain a little more and the whole house would hear it.

Maybe also hear the sound of your heart breaking along with.

You felt ridiculous. How is he angry at this? He has no right.

“If you’d told me I would have stayed! How long had you known!?”

If you told him.

He wouldn't have stayed for you. He would have stayed for the kid.

Not for you.

“Two weeks before-”

You managed to get out before he interrupted you.

“And you didn't think to tell me!?”

Why did he have to say it like that? Like he hated you?

It hurt.

“I tried.” 

Your chest felt heavy as you uttered those words. It felt like a wound had reopened.

Once again you were meek. You felt like a child being reprimanded by their parent. You've had a fair share of that already. You didn't need more.

You felt...helpless.

This was your husband. He wasn't supposed to be angry at you.

Suddenly all the feelings you’d been shoving down came right up.

“No Remus. You have no right! You cannot come back after years and pretend that we are fine! I did the right thing Remus. And I will not have you make me believe otherwise.”

You felt ridiculous. Yet again, he has made you feel small. That didn't happen before. 

Remus, your remus always made you feel loved. And seen.

This isn't your Remus.

“I don't know who you are. I know I did the right thing. I know…”

Right?

You shook your head as you spoke those words, you seemed to close in on yourself. Backing away until you couldn't. You can't do this right now.

His words seemed so collected when he replied. As much as they could, when he had been sobbing a moment ago. They still held anger in them.

“But I am his father.”

A gasp echoes through the empty corridor.

Not yours…

Regulus's.

"He is my father?”

Series Taglist (open):@twilightlover2007 @idli-dosa @lovesanimals0000 @deathbyramennoodle-s @deadgirlsrunning @lovelyypythoness @corvinalitbitina @joeytribbiani18 @mayusaatma @csifandom General Taglist (open): @desikudisworld @iamgayforyourmom1510

Please Reblog if you liked this~

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Hey I was wondering if you had any good angst recommendations with some smut??

Holy shit, it's so difficult to name them all! Haha! Here is a list of my favorite fics (at least the ones I've had time to write down because there's a lot!)

But... I do wanna give some shout-outs to some of my top, all-time-favorite series'. These are in NO particular order, and again, there's so many that I love, so check out those other recommendations.

in my feelings - @harrystylescherry

completed series featuring famous Harry and Vogue journalist YN, an amazing story of enemies who end up having sex and catching super complicated feelings. It's crazy how chaotic these two are together but it's amazing.

wish upon a star - @mysweetestcreature

completed series about stepbrother Harry and stepsister YN, who have basically grown up together, with a taboo and secret love that nobody can know about, especially their parents.

spare parts - @around1302

completed series (definitely one of my top faves) about Harry and Charlie, who are put into a band together with 3 other guys. She hates him, and maybe he hates her, but things get complicated when they make a secret sex pact.

since 2010 series - @watermelonsugacry

ongoing series (another top fave from my love) about famous Harry and 1D bandmate YN who aren't allowed to have feelings for one another, but they do, unknown to each other until they have a very complicated, on and off again situationship. Amazing song inspos and so much detail!

the queen's secret - @gurugirl

ongoing series about royal Harry and Queen YN, who are forced into an arrangement to conceive a baby for YN's husband, the King. But of course, things get complicated quickly, and their secret love puts everything in jeopardy. This is probably the definition of angst and smut combined!

you're just someone i want around - @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy

ongoing series about vampire Harry who only goes to clubs to satisfy two needs- sex and human blood. He comes across YN and everything about her begins to change everything about him, except his immortality. This isn't as angsty as some of the others but it's so smutty and so good.

mr. & mrs. hey soul sister - @freedomfireflies

completed series (from an amazing writer) about famous Harry and YN, who wake up from a drunken night to find out they got married. With Harry's reputation at stake, they try to figure out what the best course of action is, which becomes unclear when feelings get involved

[mllemarianne]

Deserving

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are betrothed to another, Aemond doesn’t want to address it strangely. Annoyed by his reaction, you reminisce about your whole relationship and everything that led to this very night, during the storm, in a tiny inn room with only one bed…

Word count: 11.5k 

Warnings: Angst and tension (so much), fluff and smut (4.5k words of it!) Slow burn, forced proximity, mutual pinning, friends to lovers. English is my second language.

N/A: The way Aemond was portrayed on the show broke my heart. I felt like writing an angsty, emotional and smutty little story about how Aemond’s childhood trauma would affect his relationship with the love of his life. House Strong is alive and no war is afoot in this story. Hope you like it! Masterlist | AO3

“Won’t you say anything at all, my prince?” you asked, your head on his shoulder, looking in his deep violet eye to gauge his reaction.

He opened his mouth hesitantly but avoided your stare. He pressed his lips in a hard line, exhaled loudly through his nose and looked back ahead, concentrating on getting the both of you through this raging storm with Vhagar.

He kept to himself what he was about to say. Again.

You knew you spoke harshly, and you knew how he hated it when you used a formal title to address him. But after all these years, after everything, you thought he was simply aggravating.

You grew up together. You were Aemond’s only real friend, even, so he knew of your short temper and your sharp tongue. He was the same. Yet you could not help but feel heartbroken at the silence he served you this very moment. One thing was certain: you were leaving and it did not please him.

You thought telling him the news after a nice day of flying around and visiting the Stormlands was a good idea. If you were honest with yourself, you hoped he would finally snap and do something. Anything. 

It became a nightmare instead.

The storm was terrible and getting worse by the minute. Drenched from head to toe, your whole body was shaking uncontrollably from the cold. It seemed like you would never be warm again, even if you were on top of a gigantic fiery beast like Vhagar, even as your whole front was pressed against Aemond’s back with your arms circling his waist.

Soaring in the sky on your way back to the Red Keep, you yelpt as the dragon nearly hit a mountain hidden in the dark clouds.

“We have to stop, it is too dangerous.” Aemond warned you before the dragon instantly dived for a clearing near a small village. Holding onto him even tighter, you were absolutely terrified of being thrown off the beast’s back when you landed harshly in some meadow.

He grabbed you by the waist to ease your landing as you jumped down the large net fixed to Vhagar’s side. He went near the dragon’s head, pressed a hand to her scales and softly spoke some words in high valyrian to her. 

Brilliant. His dragon got more words out of him than you did. 

Vhagar seemed to cover herself with one of her large wings as she laid down on the wet grass. When Aemond walked back to you, you raised one hand and adjusted his hood over his head in order to hide his distinctive long silvery hair.

He looked at you with softness in his eye and you heard the faintest of "hm" escape from his chest before he turned around.

You walked fast in the downpour. The silence getting unbearable, you decided to tell him more about your father’s plans.

“The Reach has nice weather, I suppose.” he said, after a long pause.

“...Not as nice as King’s Landing’s don’t you think?” “Maybe you're right…” he replied.

You spoke of never seeing him again and he wanted to discuss the weather?

Tears started to pool in your eyes and you knew your voice would soon start trembling. You stopped talking altogether and walked silently in the heavy rain until you reached what could only be an inn.

“Only one room left, I’m ’fraid. You want it anyway?” asked the innkeeper. Seeing you shivering, he poured ale in two cups and handed you one. Aemond refused. You accepted.

“We’ll take it. And some wine, if you have it.” Aemond answered, dropping a few coins on the counter.

The old man then turned to you.

“How ‘bout you, girl?” he inquired, looking straight down at your soaked dress clinging to your body. "You’re not bad lookin. D’you have time for me later? How much? Love me self some curly hair—.”

“She’s mine,” Aemond growled before you could answer. He moved to shield you from the innkeeper’s wandering eyes and put a hand on his sheathed knife. “And you will not address her in this manner ever again, do you understand?”

He sounded calm. You could not see his face but you knew he looked anything but. Your hand reached for his arm, the one grasping the knife. There was no need for bloodshed, what if there were no other place you could go to in this damn storm? He did not budge, eye fixed on the innkeeper.

“The room, please. Now.” He insisted.

The tension was high, and other patrons began to look your way. The innkeeper seemed to chew on his cheek, definitely not liking the way his customer had threatened him. After what felt like an eternity, the old man grabbed a jug full of wine and handed it to Aemond.

"Upstairs, follow me."

Down a small corridor, you stopped in front of a wooden door. The innkeeper gave Aemond the key and left without a word. Not even looking at you.

The room surely was not as spacious as the one you had in the Red Keep. It was clean, at least, which was a relief in itself as you felt grubby from all the rain and mud. There were two armchairs and a table in front of a large hearth where a fire burned brightly. Gods be good, you thought.

Aemond put down the wine jug on the table and looked around. Then he saw it too.

There was only one bed. The smallest bed your both very privileged selves had ever seen, in fact.

“Take it,” he said under his breath. You see him peeling his hood from his leather clad tunic, leaving it carelessly on the floor. He put down his knife on the table before he slouched in an armchair, throwing his head back and closing his eye.

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s enough space for the both of us. We used to nap together in the gardens all the time when we were younger, what’s the difference?” you replied.

“It wouldn’t be proper.” he mumbled, to which you chuckled slightly.

You just spent the day clinging to his whole body while flying around on Vhagar’s back. How proper was it when he would let you feel every muscle he had on his chest while you held onto him. How proper was it when you buried your nose in his neck and he sighed. You felt his heart beating faster every time your hands changed spots, trying to warm them. He could not possibly be serious with his talk of propriety.

“It’s only me, Aemond.”

“You are betrothed.” he said in a cold tone he never used with you before.

Now you were the silent one.

You looked at him for a while, frozen in place. In all these years, had he never thought of marrying you?

You were betrothed to another, and he acted as if it was a matter of no importance. You were leaving King’s Landing and he would not address it. All he had to do was say the words you longed to hear. “Stay”, for one... 

“You are staring” he taunted, startling you with his mixed signals.

You turned around but still glanced at him from the corner of your eye. Truthfully, you could not stop looking at him. His neck… his jawline… the rain gave curls to his long hair cascading down the backrest of his armchair… You were particularly fond of his hair like that. It was a rare sight. 

“Sorry if I was expecting you to be civilized and have a conversation with me.” you sneered. “You know, while we still can. ”

How could he be so calm? Nobody knew where you were. A prince, his dragon and the daughter of the Hand were missing. You imagined your father would be absolutely mortified. Then again, he knew you. You were not one to follow the rules and getting stuck in a storm was exactly the kind of tomfoolery he would expect from you. Somehow, this time, it seemed worse.

Both of you were drenched; confined to one small room; completely alone, in the middle of nowhere.

But as bad as it was, you thought it was the perfect situation. You could both have what you always wanted. So why was he holding back?

She’s mine, he said. His words kept echoing in your head.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Still shivering, you knew the only way to ever feel warm again was to let your dress dry. Only, of all the scenarios you built in your head about your adventures in the Stormlands, undressing in front of him was not what you imagined— No. No, that was a lie.

You imagined it. You imagined it almost every night lately, in fact.

At the hour of owl, while you laid naked on the large bed in your chambers, you imagined his hands roaming free on your body. You would pretend he caressed your hardening breasts, pressed his curled lips on the most intimate part of you… you would even whisper his name ever so faintly when reaching your peak with your fingers…

All of a sudden, you felt like you were burning. You poured yourself a cup of wine and gulped half of it, for confidence if anything.

If he would not say a thing, then you would take charge. You waited long enough for this.

You remembered when it began, when you were 13 years of age...

Both of you felt left out when all the children went to the dragon pit. Not having a dragon was particularly hard for Aemond. His older brother and nephews were bullying him incessantly for it. It made him hopeless, like he was not a real Targaryen. However, the time he did not spend on dragonback, he spent with you.

Every evening, you would be in the library, trading books you enjoyed. Your father was a scholar and knew the importance of giving an adequate education to both his sons and daughters. It also meant you could train in the yard with the other boys.

You were good. Aemond was better.

Sometimes, the both of you would sneak into the kitchens at night to steal pastries and enjoy them secretly in the gardens. 

One night in particular, while you laid in the tall grass and looked at the starry sky with bellies full of lemon cakes and candied plums, he propped up on one arm, grabbed your neck and swiftly kissed you.

Stunned, you giggled. He shrugged, embarrassed.

Filled with remorse, you grabbed his tunic, pulled him closer and kissed him back. He seemed shocked, but you found a glimpse of relief in his gaze.

Then you licked half his face in retaliation.

Laughing loudly, you almost woke the entire castle as you chased each other through the echoing stone hallways. You were both so young, but you never forgot that moment. How it had been strange to have him press his lips on yours but also how you secretly enjoyed it. 

Or not so secretly. After that, he liked teasing you. Sometimes, when you would least expect it, and in the most inconvenient of places, he planted a kiss on your lips. Everytime, he stepped back to enjoy your reaction; the flush on your cheeks, your surprised stare and most of all, he waited to see if you would kiss him back. Once, Ser Criston almost caught you playing that little game when you were training with daggers. You had the upper hand, but as you were about to say “yield”, he distracted you with his kiss and the next thing you knew, you hit the ground, bested by your opponent.

Then came that night.

You were not there when it happened. While he did something extraordinary and claimed the largest dragon in the world, his nephews and nieces saw it as arrogance and resented him bitterly. The siblings argued that the lady Rhaena should have been the one to claim her mother’s dragon.

But “Dragons are no slaves. A bond can not be forged purely out of legacy,” you remember reading in a book once.

Fists balled up, knives came out and blood was drawn. Everybody gathered in the hall, including you and your father the Hand. Now the adults were fighting too.

You learned that Aemond called his nephews bastards. But that was not all. He also claimed they were your older brother’s bastards.

Even though it pained you to hear such slander, you were more concerned about your friend. You knew something bad happened. You could see blood all over his tunic. Unfortunately, every time you tried to approach him, he turned his head around so you could not see.

Then Queen Alicent attacked Princess Rhaenyra, asking for her son’s eye in retribution. It dawned on you that Aemond lost an eye that night.

He scurried out of the hall with his mother and Ser Criston in tow before you could speak to him. You tried to go to his room but he would not let you in.

Claiming Vhagar was a big deal. He had a dragon now. His most ardent wish came true. You knew he would want to tell you all about it. You even imagined traveling to King's Landing on dragonback with him.

To your dismay, Driftmark slowly disappeared in the fog as you stood on the ship deck. Alone.

You saw Vhagar rise from Driftmark’s sandy beach dunes and fly way up above you. The beast was so large, its shadow made it seemed like it was night for a moment. You watched as the dragon disappeared in the horizon with your friend as well. Then and there, you almost felt like he was stolen from you.

You only saw him again when you got to King’s Landing two days later. He wore a bandage on half his head and you wondered why he had to cover such a large portion of his face.

With hindsight, you realized he did not wish for you to see him at his worst. You knew about the eye, but not the long scar that now marred his face.

His wound eventually healed but some insensitive comments took their toll on him, you assumed.

“They saw me without the bandage. They are scared of me,” he once said to his mother, not knowing you heard from across the room.

“You are not scary, my sweet boy.” replied Queen Alicent, embracing her precious son in her arms. “Ask y/n. If your own mother can’t convince you, then maybe she will. Just be mindful of your words. They can be harsh sometimes. Despite the many rumors surrounding her brother and Princess Rhaenyra, don’t slander her house. She will grow to resent you.”

He nodded. And he showed you his face that day.

First, you noticed the eyepatch. But then you saw the long scar that went from his forehead to his jaw. Oh how he looked at you intensely, searching for any glimpse of disgust on your face. 

All he found was sorrow.

You could not even begin to imagine the pain he went through. You almost felt it yourself.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you… does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It’s numb, mostly. I did try to do something with… you know–” he said, pointing at the leather eyepatch. “– but a few servants saw me and they looked terrified…I’ll have to get used to wearing it.” When you asked what he meant, he reluctantly took off the eyepatch and showed you. Where his right eye should have been was now a gemstone. The biggest you had ever seen, in fact.

“It’s beautiful, Aemond,” you admitted, genuinely. Truth be told, you were mesmerized. It looked nice, stylish even. “It’s a sapphire, isn’t it? I like it, it matches the colors of my house.”

Sadly, your kind words of reassurance did not appease him. Thereafter, you only ever saw him with the eyepatch. Your words did have an impact on him, however.

As you got to the library one night, you found a velvet pouch on the desk you usually sat at.

“You said it was the color of your house.” he spoke, shy.

In the pouch was a silver necklace with dangling pearls and a beautiful blue sapphire in the middle. Seeing how you loved it, Aemond gave you the most genuine smile you had seen him do since the accident.

You tried to kiss him as you so often did, but you stopped the moment you saw the look in his eye. He seemed uneasy. You held his hand instead and thanked him. You never wore anything else.

Then, things started to change.

Soon enough, you both were 18 years of age...

Aemond’s whole demeanor changed, in fact.

You saw how people were looking at him. How they stared at the eyepatch instead of his eye when talking to him. The fake compliments he received and the snickers when they walked away from him. 

You knew it affected him greatly but he never let it show. He became calm and collected. He kept his sharp tongue for his nephews and nieces though. You knew he still held a grudge after all these years and frankly, you could not blame him. But for someone so clever and calculating, sometimes he did not think.

“Come. Let us drain our cups to these three Strong Boys,” he said once, in front of the whole Targaryen family, including you, during dinner.

It started a brawl. Again.

Wounded by the harshness of his words thrown about your family, you stood up and left.

Resenting the people responsible for his missing eye was one thing, but did he have to bring your older brother into this once more? If that is what he thought of your house, what could he be thinking of you then?

Realizing all too late he hurt you in the process, Aemond followed you to your chambers and begged for your forgiveness.

You did, for he was your dearest friend and seeing him beg was a sight in itself. You knew he did not mean to cause you pain, but you warned him that you would not have any more of it. 

After that, he was very careful with his words around you. Sometimes, he was awfully silent even. Words against House Strong cost him an eye once and resentment from you that night at dinner, afterall. So often he would answer with a simple “hm” now. It was infuriating, sometimes.

You felt his struggle. You hoped you could blow the cobwebs away by planning various adventures with him. You would leave on dragonback and visit neighboring regions. You drank dornish wine in fields of flowers; climbed mountains to enjoy the view; bathed in springs definitely too cold to be bathed in. He seemed more at ease when you were alone. He smiled, he jested. Ah you loved having him all to yourself.

Claiming Vhagar gave him so much confidence. Even Prince Aegon would not dare bully him now that Aemond was taller and stronger than him. He was an even better fighter too.

You still trained with the sword together in the morning. If you were honest with yourself, you liked training in the yard because you got to see Aemond in his training gear. He indeed grew taller. His shoulders were broader. His voice got deeper. He kept his hair long now too. He looked ethereal. You loved watching him practice his knife tricks, particularly how he spinned the handle between his now long and slender fingers.

You also loved to train with daggers because you would get closer to him. Swords kept you away but fighting with daggers and knives was so much more intimate. Sometimes you would let him beat you only to be held in his arms. Something about him pressing his body to yours while commanding you to yield made you feel all sorts of ways. 

Your septa told you time and time again that it was unladylike, especially at your age, to spend so much time fighting with boys.

You never listened.

There were also rumors that the princes were frequenting brothels in the street of silk. You believed it of Prince Aegon, but you knew Aemond was not for he spent his days in your company. He did have princely duties from time to time, but otherwise, even his evenings remained yours, in the library or in the gardens for a midnight stroll.

The only thing he never did again was kissing you.

You always acted surprised when he did that but in reality, you thoroughly enjoyed it. As the years went on, you began to think it was only a children's game.

Still, you would catch him staring at you quite often now. Once, you caught him glancing at your bosom while you were both reading in the library. He blushed so hard, you thought he stopped breathing all together.

It was you teasing him now.

Deep down, you knew how he felt about you. You felt the same way too. Maybe he just needed some encouragement.

You started with new dresses. They were tighter, low-cut and showed much more of your now adult body. You also decided that, from time to time, you would show up to your evening reading sessions in the library in nothing but your best nightgown and the necklace he gave you now resting in the valley between your plump breasts.

The first time he saw you so inappropriately dressed, you were delighted by his reaction. He did not blink once. He looked you up and down, greeted you and then never averted his eye from his book. He was holding onto the binding with such force his knuckles turned white. Even as you looked in his eye, there was no movement.

“Whatever is the matter, your grace?” you teased, using a formal title.

The prince was so shocked he could no longer read the wise words of Maester Octavis on warfare during Maegor The Cruel’s reign. He cooled down after a while…

…but it was your turn to burn now.

You pretended to be absorbed in your readings on the free cities of Essos, but you were only looking at his hands. The way his veins popped when he flexed his fingers; how he pinched the corners to turn a page; the slight stimming…

You were grateful your father never pressed the matter of marriage with you. As it happened, you reminded him so much of your late mother that he loved having you around in the Red Keep. He told you once he would wait for the perfect match and nothing else. Part of you hoped Aemond would eventually step up and ask for your hand.

Suddenly, the lords of the realm wanted to dance with you at balls and asked for your favor at tourneys. The attention you got overwhelmed you quite a bit. You tried dancing with potential suitors, but you weren’t remotely interested in any of them. Only your prince.

Aemond often swept in to make sure you were okay and that no lords were bothering you. Every time, he dared dance so close to you, you did not know how proper it was.

But did you care? Not really.

You could smell his hair. He smelled of amber and sandalwood. Each time, his scent would drive you mad with lust. The things you imagined him doing to you… and you to him. Not that you were well versed in the art. You had only ever touched yourself… thinking of him.

Thinking of his fingers trailing on your skin; his lips leaving burning kisses on your neck; his hands everywhere on your body but especially between your legs; you holding him close, so close you could feel every part of him, get lost in his scent, in his heat…

Despite your blatant inexperience… you had seen things.

One day, Aemond let you sit in front of him on Vaghar while you got back from one of your adventures near Gulltown. Riding Vhagar was an exhilarating experience in itself, but your mind was focused on the dragon behind you.

While you held the reins, Aemond held you. Tight.

You felt his breath on your neck. He nuzzled your shoulder. His warm hands sometimes caressed your sides, so close to your breasts… you could be wrong, but you swore he sighed at some point.

When you got back, Aemond had princely duties and could not join you in the library that evening.

You were rarely left to your own devices, it was unusual. The castle being so large, you decided to explore the wings you never go to to pass the time. 

The east tower was barely lit. It was late and its corridors were deserted even though you were close to the ever so busy servants quarters.

Then you heard noises. Voices, maybe? It kept echoing on the stone walls and vaulted ceilings.

You walked quietly to locate where it came from and happened upon two servants entwined in the throes of passion. Or at least, that is what you thought it was for you could barely see them in the dark. You were so curious, you could not help but peek.

Well hidden in a corner, the woman leaned against a wall, bunching her skirt up to her waist while the man seemed to devour her cunt. One leg over his shoulder, she was shuddering and mewling under his ministrations, completely lost in her pleasure. It was only after she moaned even loudly that the man let go of her shaking thighs, stood up, cupped her face with both hands and kissed her longingly.

Your whole body froze when you recognized the man’s long silvery white hair.

He turned her around and snaked his arms around her waist while he left searing kisses on her neck and shoulder. She bent over as he hurriedly unlaced his pants, kicking her feet so she spread her legs more.

You could not see from your angle but from the sounds that escaped her mouth, he took her.

Hard.

And she loved it.

You heard the lewd sound of flesh slapping while he pounded into her. He grunted as his fingers dug in her waist. His hair was untied and messy like you had never seen.

When you started panting yourself, you looked away. You knew you were witnessing something you should not. You made sure they could not hear the sound of your steps as you left the scene.

You did hear one more thing, though. Something that left you in quite a state.

He moaned your name.

You felt such a heat in your belly that you thought you were on fire. You never looked at him the same after that. You knew he burned for you as well. But why was he seeking pleasure in the arms of others when you were right there.

That night in your bedchambers, even as you gripped your sheets, writhing, moaning and coming for the third time… you thought your fingers would not do anymore.

You wanted more.

And you wanted him.

A little before your twentieth name day- yesterday, in fact...

Your father told you about your betrothal. The eldest son of Lord Martyn Tyrell of Highgarden was young, handsome, kind, educated, great with the sword and heir to his father’s title and castle. Your father had finally found you a match he deemed worthy of you. You were also to leave King’s Landing in a moon turn to meet your future lord husband and acquaint yourself with your new home. You felt your world shattering under your feet.

“Aemond is the man I wish to marry,” you declared.

“It’s Prince Aemond, to you. Don’t forget your place,” he corrected you. “And you know I can’t abuse the power the king conferred on me as Hand to arrange a match like that. My sweet girl, I know the prince is dear to you… but it is he who should ask the king for permission to marry you. Not me.”

That evening, you did not go to the library.

You cried in your bed until your head hurt, clutching the sapphire and pearl necklace Aemond gave you. When you heard him knocking on your door later, you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you said through the door, trying to calm your shaky voice. “I was simply tired. Goodnight, Aemond.”

“Goodnight, y/n… see you in the training yard then.”

You did not go to train with him the next morning either.

You dreaded the moment when you would have no choice but to tell him. The sun was not high in the sky when he knocked on your door again. This time you answered. He looked you up and down, surprised to see you in a riding dress. “I missed you at training,” he confessed. “Going somewhere?” “Let’s leave the city for the day.” You said. “Do you think Vhagar would like to visit the Stormlands? I hear the water is so clear in Tarth they call it the sapphire isle.” “With all due respect, ‘tis I who decides where I fly my dragon, my lady,” he replied playfully, but you still felt a little ashamed of your boldness. “But yes, as you wish.”

And here you were. Struck in an inn, somewhere in the Stormlands, with a silent prince...

He almost seemed asleep in his armchair in front of the fire. You could not bear the silence anymore. If he had feelings for you, then you would make him speak plainly.

You downed the last half of your cup before you started undressing. First, your cloak.

As you hung it on a hook on the wall, you peeked at your prince. To your surprise, he did not move an inch. You can only see one of his hands stimming slightly on the armrest.

Your boots were next— a real agony considering how soggy they were and how painfully long it took to unlace them. Leaving wet footprints on the floor, you walked to the hearth and let them fall loudly in front of the fire. Your eyes flutter again to Aemond. 

No reaction.

At this point, you did not know if you were annoyed or downright infuriated. You looked at the small bed again and you could only think about him taking you like he did that maid.

You shook your head. You had to focus.

Tugging at the strings at your waist, your skirt pooled at your feet, thus revealing your legs. Thankfully, you had a small linen shift underneath, barely covering you down to your knees. You were putting down the skirt on the wooden table when you noticed it. Finally.

Even if the room was dark, only lit by the fire and the moonlight, you spied one violet eye gazing at you intently.

For a moment, you feared he could hear your heart beating frantically. His silence affected you greatly, but you found comfort in the fact that he could not resist looking at you undressing. Men seemed to be simple creatures, afterall.

You tried to unbutton the bodice of your dress but the stiff fabric made it hard for you to reach back. Why did clothes have to be so complicated to put on and take off. It dawned on you that you would need his help to get out of this wet mess of a dress.

Turning around quickly, thinking you would catch him staring, you saw his head facing the other way. You approached and stood between him and the fire. The shadow you casted made him look at you. 

"I need your help. Would you unbutton my bodice please." you managed to say calmly.

His stare was hard to decipher but he seemed conflicted. First he looked into your eyes… then his gaze fell down to your bodice… next it wandered to the silhouette of your legs. He could see every curve of your body, the fire behind you glowing through your white shift. You felt naked under his stare.

He looked serious. So serious his left hand stopped stimming. Slowly, he rose from the armchair and waited for you to turn around.

And you did. You were waiting for him to make a snarky comment or jest about what a proper lady you were, but again, you were cursed with silence. 

There were at least 15 buttons that went all the way down to your lower back. You felt his calloused hands brushing against your neck as he parted your long hair. A small sigh escaped your lips.

He went through each button at an excruciatingly slow pace. You hoped he felt the goosebumps appearing where his fingers touched you. The frisson was almost unbearable.

When he got to the last button, he froze momentarily. You could not take it anymore.

You turned around quickly, got up on your toes, reached for his neck and crashed your lips onto his. Just as he used to do when you were younger. His lips were unexpectedly soft. Not what you remembered, but better. You wished the kiss lasted longer, but now you waited for his reaction.

He only ever looked at you without blinking. He exhaled loudly, looking down at your bodice dangling off your shoulders, revealing the rest of your shift. His eye darkened and you were now worried you angered him.

“Y/n, please,” he pleaded. He sounded desperate and vexed all at once.

The dam burst.

"I am sorry Aemond. I know I spoke harshly when we were on Vhagar but this is ridiculous. I need to know how you feel about me leaving King’s Landing. I’m to leave for The Reach in a moon turn. I’m leaving, Aemond.” You said over and over to make sure he heard you loud and clear. “I understand if you hate me right now but I can’t stand the silence. I won’t have it. We will discuss this."

“I could never– hm– hate you.” he replied, startled mid sentence as you snatched the bodice off of you and threw it on the table behind him. Only wearing the shift and the necklace he gave you, you stood tall even if he towered over you.

“I’M LEAVING.” You repeated, losing patience.

“I KNOW.” He growled, losing his legendary calm and jolting you.

“Then say something!” you pressed, grabbing his tunic with both hands. “I don’t want to go to The Reach, Aemond. I want to stay in King’s Landing with you. I want you.”

There, you said it. Eye wide open, he looked down at you, then at your hands tugging at his clothes.

“Your days are mine already,” you said, pulling him to you, pressing your whole body to his. “I wish to claim your nights too.”

He seemed hesitant but mostly, he looked panicked. He clenched his jaw and his lips twitched as though he was about to say something so incriminating he feared putting it into words. 

His hands found your waist, rumpling the fabric of your shift. You slowly melted into his warm embrace. His breath was ragged. You waited for his answer. Your heart was about to burst from the anticipation.

“Say it. Say you want me too.”

And you waited some more. You could not draw breath. He tensed, opening his mouth to speak but not a single word coming out. Feeling the tears coming, you bit your lip to stop your chin from quivering.

Just like you knew he would, he stayed silent.

“Fine,” you abdicated. “Then I bid you goodnight, my prince ”.

You let go of his tunic but he held on to your arms. You angrily twisted yourself to get out. You held each other's gaze while you unceremoniously took off the necklace he gifted you and threw it on top of your discarded dress. You climbed in the bed, pulled the covers and turned to face the wall. 

It is said that silence is louder than words, sometimes. Well this time, it was deafening. 

From his shadow on the wall, you saw he did not move an inch. With cheeks wet from fresh tears, you curled up, desperately looking for warmth but the damn stone wall was so cold. It made you even more angry. In all your life, you had never felt so exasperated.

The silence stopped when you heard him pour wine in a cup. He drank it all. Then he started to undress.

You heard the thudding of his boots hitting the floor, one after the other… then the clinging of metal clasps… the creaking of his leather tunic… the clattering of his belt and pants hitting the floor…then silence again.

Unexpectedly, the sheets moved, sending cold air on your shivering body. You felt him hastily lying down on the bed next to you. You don’t know what came over you, but you said it anyway.

“I thought it would be improper”, your sharp tongue throwing his own words back at him.

“You are freezing,” he muttered.

He pressed his whole front to your back and rubbed your arm with his hand. When he buried his face in your neck, some of his long hair fell in front of you and you got overwhelmed by his amber and sandalwood scent. His breath on your shoulder sent shivers down your spine and almost made you arched your back into him. You were awfully confused, tears on your cheeks but desire brewing inside you.

You wished you had the will to pull away but you craved his touch. His hands were on you. Touching you, rubbing you, caressing you, now down your side.

For a daughter of House Strong, you sure were weak this instant.

He chose this moment to finally speak.

“You don’t want me, y/n.”

These few words gave you the strength to turn around and look him in the eye. His mixed signals were simply baffling. It almost drove you mad.

Though, when your gaze fell upon his face, you thought he looked defeated. You noticed he kept his undershirt and his eyepatch but wore nothing else.

“Is that an order, my prince?” you asked defiantly, tears still in your eyes.

“Just look at me.” He said harshly.

“That’s all I’ve been doing for years, Aemond.” 

“You can’t possibly want this.” he said, making a gesture at his head.

You cupped his face with your dainty fingers. Distressed as he was, he still welcomed your gentle touch. Then your hand traveled upwards and you hooked a finger beneath the leather band of his eyepatch. You waited for him to give you permission. “Let me see all of you.”

After a few seconds, he nodded. Uncovering his sapphire eye, it glinted with the light from the creaking fire. He closed his good eye when the pads of your fingers grazed his marred cheek. And when he felt your lips on the bottom of his scar, his breath caught in his throat.

“Why do you think I’d wear a damn nightgown to the library when it’s in the coldest part of the castle?” you asked in his ear, your cheek resting on the scarred side of his face. He sighed. One of his hands found your waist, pulling you slightly to him.

“Why do you think I was kissing you back when you teased me?” you added, reaching for his hair tie. His long silvery-white hair fell around his face.

“Aemond, I’ve been throwing myself at you for years now.”

“I know… I’m missing an eye, I’m not blind.”

Then you get it.

“Is that why you grew so distant? Do you think me so feeble that I would begrudge you for missing an eye?”

“Everybody does,” he admitted with a bitterness that crushed your heart. “Why do you think I train with the sword, study history and philosophy, and ride a huge fucking dragon daily? I have to be all of those things so people can see me as a man.”

“I don’t care about all that. Two eyes, one or even none, I don’t care. I just want you.”

“I don’t want that for you, don’t you understand?” he snapped, cupping your face with both of his hands, forcing you to look him straight in his eye. “You want to be married to the court’s freak? Is that what you want? To be the lady wife of the scary one-eyed prince? Hearing people snickering behind your back? See them turn around when you are coming their way with me at your arm? The nosy court ladies asking if I keep the eyepatch on all the time, even when I fuck you? You want that?”

At the sound of his harsh words, you circled your arms around him and held him close to you. Your words failed, but maybe your actions would prevail.

Your face buried in his neck and hair, you knew he needed the embrace more than you did. You felt his arms caging you in, even a leg wrapping around yours.

You knew it was bad, but you had no knowledge of how bad it really was. He never spoke about these things.

“There will come a day when you will resent me for casting this burden upon you and I could not bear to see you grieve a life free from relentless mockery.” He said in your ear. “I didn’t encourage you… because I knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with a cripple for a husband.”

“Stop it.” you whispered in his ear, silent tears streaming down your cheeks again.

You stayed like this for a long time. He nuzzled your shoulder, breathed in your scent, clinged to your whole body with his fingers stroking your hair and back. He craved your touch. He needed comfort. He spoke of sparing you, yet he undoubtedly desired naught but you. 

You fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was far from what you imagined it would be like, but at last, you claimed one of his nights.

It was almost morning...

When you woke up, the sky was light but the sun had yet to rise. The storm passed and warm fresh air flowed in from the open window. It seemed like a beautiful summer day was about to begin.

All warmed up in Aemond’s embrace, you realized he never let go of you throughout the night. Now facing away from him, your legs were tangled, his arm laid limply around your waist and his face rested in your neck. His breath fanned your shoulder soothingly.

You felt at peace, a smile curling your lips. But despite his comforting heat appeasing you, your mind could only focus on one thing: his manhood.

Long, hard… and keenly digging in your backside.

You wiggled a bit. He only grunted and you felt his hand coming up to hold one of your breasts. Arching into him instinctually, you pressed yourself against him even more. You could not help yourself, you began to rock your hips slightly.

Sleep could never be found again, not while you were so intimately entwined.

“Stop doing that,” huffed a husky voice behind you. “Doing what?” you probed, your hand now gently rubbing his hip though his undershirt.

He let go of your breast and went for your neck instead, squeezing it lightly with his slender fingers.

You were definitely awake now. Awake and burning. 

“I’m trying to stay proper, but you make it really hard,” he said gruffly.

“That I know” you answered with a chuckle, ignoring his warning and still rocking your backside against his stiff cock. “What a poor choice of words.”

The hand gripping at your throat went to your hip instead to stop your sweet torture.

But with your skin so soft, your scent so enticing and your nearly naked body obviously craving his touch, he started grinding into you too. 

“Yes, very proper of you.” you taunted him. 

You felt every inch of his through your linen shift. He seems big, you thought. The prospect of finally having him left you in such a state. You desired him so ardently you clenched your thighs together to prevent your slick from dripping down your leg. He nuzzled your neck, bit it too, making a mewling mess out of you.

It took all your will to stop him. As much as you were enjoying this, you felt like things were not settled yet. You sat in the bed and gazed upon him, a questioning look lingering on his face. 

“Let me say it again, so you will believe me this time. You feel like you have to spare me somehow, but I won’t even entertain the idea. I’m a strong lady, am I not?”

He looked at you attentively.

“You are the only man I have ever desired. I want you. ” It took a moment, but from his lips came your salvation.

“I was always yours,” he confessed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers.

You felt it through your bones. His intense gaze went to your mouth, fixed on the plump of your lips. His hand reached for your face and cupped it gently, his thumb brushing your cheek lovingly.

He knew you would not accept any more arguments from him. The fact that you wanted him in spite of everything was baffling, but he lacked the strength to fight it anymore. He surrendered himself to you, for he was undeniably yours and you were inexplicably his.

“Then claim me.” you pleaded, yearning for his touch.

“I’ll make my demand to the King the minute we get back. I’ll speak to your father as well. The Tyrell boy can go fuck himself.” he said, brushing away your hair from your face. “You will be mine. You have my word.”

You were overcome with relief. King’s Landing was your home. It was where you read books, trained with the sword and where your prince was. And now, Aemond Targaryen wanted you to wife. Gods be good, it was everything you had ever wanted… but…

“The gods know I waited a long time for this… but I wasn’t talking about that…” you confessed, looking at him seriously. Holding his gaze, you moved to straddle him..

“Y/n!” he yelped, astonished yet incredibly aroused by your audacity. His hands went straight to your hips to stabilize you. You felt his cock brushing against your folds and you almost lost it.

“I-I saw you once,” you confessed, looking down at him. “...with a maid… In the east tower.”

He froze at your statement, but that did not stop you. You grabbed the bottom of his undershirt.

“I heard you scream my name.” you said, pulling on the fabric to tease him. He clenched his jaw. 

His hands fisted your white shift as well. He looked at you with fire in his eye, and not one you can easily extinguish. His composure hung by a thread. Lips parted, he looked at you like you were a goddess. You almost had him. He throbbed against your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

You bent down and your hardened nipples brushed against his chest though your linen shifts. Your mouth ghosting his, you inched up every time he tried to close the gap. You went to kiss the underside of his jaw instead. He growled, snaking his scorching hot hands on your back, under your shift.

“Don’t you want to know what I feel like?” you said in his ear, gnawing at his lobe. “Hear me scream your name.”

He exhaled loudly. You were most impressed at how good you were at making him unravel. He always loved your feistiness and how strong you were (with no trace of irony). You gave him back the same fiery energy. It was irritating and entrancing in equal measure.

And if you needed to be crass to finally get what you wanted, then so be it.

“I touch myself every night thinking only of you,” you hushed without any shame, tormenting him with a sudden rolling of your hips. “I want to know what you feel like too.”

He cursed under his breath. You could feel his walls crumbling around him. You pressed your forehead against his, keeping your lips awfully close to his. And now, the coup de grace…

“Kiss me… see what I do in return, this time.”

And you had him.

He sank into your touch, grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his lips on yours in a bruising kiss. He devoured you, his tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. You hummed into it, feeling the heat flood your whole body. His lips were insistent, desperate to taste you as much as he craved your touch.

You felt his hunger, his despair and his desire all at once. You gave him unreservedly what he denied himself for so long. And he could not get enough of you.

You were his. His to take. His to touch. His to love. And he was yours. Yours to keep. Yours to feel. Yours to cherish.

You attempted to sit back up to rid yourself of your shift but he stopped you.

“Hmm, no. You’ve done enough now.” He muttered.

Without warning, he shifted you– manhandled you, more like– so you were under him. Kneeling between your spreaded legs, he took off his undershirt while you watched eagerly. You bit your lip as you admired his delicate ivory skin, his large shoulders, his toned chest, the V shape of his hip bones…He was divine. His manhood was also revealed to you and your doubts were confirmed. He was well-endowed indeed. Precum leaked from the tip of his long cock and ran down your thigh already. For the first time, nervousness got to you but you did not let it show.

Then he grabbed your shift and proceeded to rip it in half with his bare hands. “Seven hells, was that really necessary?” you asked, knowing full well you woke the dragon.

“I believe so, yes. You’ve been insufferable, my lady.” he reproached you, throwing what was left of the garments across the room. He looked down and took in the view of your naked body laying under him without touching you. 

“Insufferable, really?” you smirked, extending your fingers to touch his abdomen but he slapped your hand.

He came down and crushed you under his weight. He kissed your neck, licked it, bit it, sucked at it, anything to leave behind bruises you could hardly hide with your low-cut dresses now. You felt your own wetness leaking down to your backside.

He made known what roused his ire.

“Insufferable, yes,” he said in a low voice, pulling your hair to expose your neck even more. “Missing the morning sparring practice, for instance. Your absence was so distracting, Aegon almost skewered me.”

You chuckled, poking a finger in his side. He slapped your hand again.

Oh he’s actually angry, you thought.

“Dressing inappropriately in the library so I can’t read a damn word of my book,” his tongue flicked your erect nipple while his hand caressed your other breast. “Every time, I went back to my chambers with damp trousers, a hard cock and only my hand to see to it.”

Never had you heard him speak so vulgarly. He grinded into you to show how hard he was for you, brushing against your clit with every thrust. His breath fanned over you and goosebumps popped all over your chest.

“And just now? Coaxing your prince into marriage? Grinding all over him while he tries to stay proper? Very unladylike, but then again… you don’t want to be treated like a lady, don't you?”

His teeth grazed against the column of your neck and he came up to bite your bottom lip.

“I have always liked your insolence, y/n, but I think you are in serious need of discipline.”

“You are no better,” you said, smirking in his kiss, your hips meeting his movements, your bare cunt brushing against his hard cock. “You let my hands roam all over you when we fly on Vhagar. I always end up in your arms when we train with daggers. You glance at my bosom every chance you get, and not so subtly might I add. Don’t you dare claim the moral high ground, my princ— ”

You could not finish your sentence, for his lips captured yours again. He kissed you with an angry passion you did not know he had inside of him. Gone was the calm and quiet prince you knew him to be. You were his, now. And he intended to take everything you would gladly give him.

He reached down and slid a hand between your bodies. You grabbed onto the edge of the bed, gripping it firmly when you felt his thumb parting your wet folds. You moaned into his mouth when he found your clit. He broke the kiss and clicked his tongue.

“Still wet from the storm or is it all because of me?” he inquired, his lips curling in a wicked smile as he made circles around your clit.

“Oh just fuck me, will you.” you cried back, losing your mind under his ministrations.

“Such strong language, I don’t recognize you,” he teased again, loving the way he made you lose your composure with only one finger. “But I need to prepare you for me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, his thumb showing no mercy and your legs quivering. You felt that coil in your stomach. That itch that needed to be scratched so badly. He wanted to take his time. Honorable, but…

“…I-I lost my maidenhead years ago,” you admitted.

He stopped his assault on your lips and your mound all at once to look at you incredulously.

“No, it’s not like that. When Vhagar landed roughly in the rocky valley near Riverrun. These things happen. It’s why I insisted on bathing in the springs, I wanted to get the blood stains off my dress.”

He recalled the both of you bathing fully clothed in a very cold spring somewhere in the Riverlands.

“Still, I want to make sure that you... Enjoy. Every. Second. Of. It.” He said, pushing a finger past your folds, going in and out with each word he said.

You tried to kiss him again but he denied you. You had teased him so much that he wanted nothing more than to punish you with the same torturous treatment. He took pleasure in watching you go insane under him. Just as you drove him mad with desire. 

“I like the desperation on you” he said, picking up the pace.

His hands. His damn hands were on and in you. He added a second finger and curled them inside you, the heel of his hand pressing on your clit. You teetered on the brink of madness. He was relentless.

Your thighs started to shake as the pressure built in you. He knew you could take more so he slipped a third finger through your cunt and pumped into you in a steady rhythm. You whined as he tore your walls apart with fingers much larger than yours. You were getting close to your release under his expert hands, for not having control rendered things much more intense.

But as you were close, so close, he pulled out his fingers, your needy cunt clenching around nothing, desperation clear on your face.

“No, no!” you scowled.

He got off the bed and, for a second, you thought he was going to leave you like that. You were no dragon by any means, but you sure felt the rage of one.

“Patience”

He kneeled on the creaky wooden floor and pulled you to the edge of the bed in one swift tug. You watched him hook your legs on his shoulders and lock his arms around your hips. You blushed slightly at the sight of his face so close to your cunt, feeling so exposed as you could not get out of his embrace.

“I wanted to feast on you for years.”

And he carried on his exquisite torment. You threw your head back, lips parted in an O shape as Aemond’s mouth ravaged you eagerly. His nose teased your bundle of nerves while his tongue entered you. Heavy breaths escaped your mouth as you weaved your fingers into his silver hair and pulled his face in closer, not wanting him to stop.

He moaned into your soaked warmth and the vibrations made you arch your back instantly. Pleasure came back to you at great speed, back to where he left off. His tongue went to your clit while he fucked you with his fingers again. You fisted the sheets and writhed violently as you felt yourself going over the edge. Immeasurable pleasure washed over you as you reached your peak, screaming his name for all the inn to hear.

He held you down tightly as your legs shook uncontrollably on either side of his head. Unable to move, you had no choice but to take it. Waves of pleasure hit you one after the other, his fingers still moving in you, allowing you to ride your high till the end. He licked your juices for his own pleasure until you whined and tried to squirm away. 

He looked so proud of himself. He loved this power he had over you, to make goosebumps appear all over your skin while ravishing you, to have you jerking your hips as you unraveled on his fingers.

“Fuck. You are… so good.” you told him between pants, heat rising in your cheeks at the mere thought of what he could make you feel with is cock.

He proceeded to leave kisses everywhere on your inner thighs.

“Aemond, I beg you.” you said, pulling on his shoulder. You knew he enjoyed himself immensely, but you were desperate for him to take you.

“Begging? You?” He gasped, not recognizing his Strong Lady, always in control, now wanton and desperate as he laid on top of you again.

Your hand slithered between your bodies and you wrapped your fingers around his weeping cock. You had no idea what you were doing but it had its effect on him. He growled, astounded by your sudden touch. He looked fired up and ready to fuck you through the mattress and the floor.

He grabbed your wrist, indicating you to let go of his manhood. You grabbed his arse instead. He dragged the head of his cock between your folds to spread your slick along his length.

“There is no going back if I take you.” He said, your clit pulsing every time he brushed against your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist. Your heels dug in his backside while your hands held onto his broad shoulders. His long hair fell all over you in a whirlwind of amber and sandalwood. “You will be mine, foreve—”

“I said claim me ”

And he did.

He sheathed himself slowly, gritting his teeth as he sank down, holding himself back from slamming into you all at once. Your eyes widened as he stretched your walls to a point you did not know was possible. You looked down to see he was only halfway in you. He cupped your chin with his rough hand, forcing you to look upon his face instead.

He watched you intently as you took all of him. He slid himself in your cunt inch by inch until he was deeply inside you. Pressing his lips to yours, he muffled your cries.

“I know, I’m sorry. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He stopped moving to let you adjust to his sheer size and he deeply sighed against your cheek. Even with your fingers, you had never reached so deep within you. It did not hurt as much as you thought it would but you felt overwhelmed at the sensation nonetheless. 

He cursed under his breath.

“You’re so tight. You clench too hard, I won’t last”, he confessed as you panted in his ear. You felt him pulling back but you locked him in place with your legs and arms.

He gently rubbed your thigh with one hand. He kissed you passionately like the starved man he was, and you eventually relaxed. The pain faded and anticipation took place. You know what must have been minutes felt like hours for him by now.

“Move, I’m fine”

He went slow at first. He searched for your hand and interlocked his fingers with yours. He was so patient with you. After a few thrusts, you started to rock your hips to meet his pace, the familiar feeling of pleasure getting back to your core once more.

“You are so big” was the only thing you could say as your whole mind could not concentrate on anything else.

“But you are taking me so well, my love.”

My love. My love. My love.

He was everywhere all at once. His praise in your ears, his hands on you, his scent all around you, his hair falling on you, his cock in you. Everything was him and you loved every second of it.

When he heard you panting in his ear, he picked up the pace. You whined loudly and he almost lost control of himself. He groaned against your chest, biting one of your nipples for purchase.

You felt yourself quickening already as he rubbed against that one spot that made the fire inside you burn more brightly each time.

You felt self-conscious about the ungodly sounds you were making and bit your lip to muffle your screams. He hit you with one hard thrust in retaliation, hitting so deep you cried out and went numb for a second.

“Don’t you go quiet on me, you said I’d hear you scream my name.” 

Gods, what have I done?, you thought. You never imagined him saying these kinds of things to you. He was right. You had been insufferable. You teased a dragon and now, you were paying the price. He liked having control over you for once, holding you down as he fucked you senseless. He claimed your body relentlessly with strong strokes that had your heart racing, his balls hitting your cunt hard each time.

And you loved it.

Your core was tightening with each of his powerful thrust. You were close. So close…when he suddenly left your embrace.

“Don’t you dare stop again!” you yelled at him, your arms desperately reaching for him.

But he only sat on his heels, grabbed one of your legs and hoisted it high against his chest. He wrapped his arm around your ankle and hammered his cock into you, hitting an even deeper angle.

“Fuck,” you wailed, eye widening and tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. You clawed at his hip, overwhelmed by the searing heat growing in you while he filled you to the hilt. 

He reached so deep within you, you thought he was in your stomach. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, even. You moaned his name incessantly, the only thing your fuzzy brain seemed to remember this very moment. A veil of sweat appeared on his skin, he was glowing in the morning light now flooding the room.

“You're mine.” he said possessively, his fingers just shy of bruising your skin as they dug in your thigh.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Say you are mine, y/n”.

Head thrown back, eyes closed, you barely registered what he asked of you. His hand went to your lower stomach and he pressed down, making you squirm and cry out.

“I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.” you repeated over and over, trashing under him, overcomed by pleasure.

He worried he was too rough with you but when he heard a pleading “Harder!” escaping from your lips, he forfeited the last thread of sanity he was barely holding onto already.

You held on for dear life while he lost himself completely and slammed into you at a wild pace. He pulled out almost entirely before sliding back in again. His cock reached your cervix. Every. Single. Time.

He growled loudly as your nails left marks on his hip. His breath was erratic, he was close as well. You clenched around him and he cursed loudly.

“Look at me. I want to see your face as I make you come.”

“Come closer.” you managed to say between pants.

He let go of your leg and was over you again, your nipples brushing against his chest. One of his arms was on the side of your head, the other finding your clit to draw circles around it again. Your nails scratched his back, you pulled on his long silvery hair and rocked your hips to meet his unrelenting pace.

“Co-come for me, my love.” he stammered.

And you felt it deep inside you, from your womb to the base of your spine all the way through your whole back, legs, arms and head. Pleasure spreading like dragon fire within you, you reached your peak and it was not like anything you had felt before. Jaw hanging open in pure ecstasy, you could not even draw a breath. Your eyes rolled, your back arched and your whole body shaked.

“Aemond!” you screamed, tears down your cheeks as your orgasm did not stop. His dark eye watched you as you fell apart, praising him.

As you promised him, he heard you scream his name.

He continued with his merciless pace, letting you ride your high. Clutching his shoulders, you pressed your face to his chest and groaned against him.

You barely had any energy left to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. Your whole body went numb and your mind almost blanked.

“I’m close” he said, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. “Do you want me to—”

“I said claim me,” you reminded him, completely overstimulated but feeling pleasure creeping upon you again.

He let out the most tantalizing growl you had ever heard him make. He buried his face in your neck and he came roaring your name. His thrusts got sloppy but he did not stop. He breathed the faintest of “I love you” as you felt his muscles spasming and his cock throbbing.

He filled you with his seed with a few erratic thrust. Combined with the sudden heat deep within you, it was enough to make you see stars one more time.

Heavily panting in your ear, Aemond’s movements slowly came to a halt. He left kisses on your forehead… your cheek… your lips…

“You were perfect,” he murmured.

“So were you, my love.”

You stayed like that for a while. Him still buried in you, crushing you under his weight, and you loving the fullness, mindlessly stroking his hair and back.

You could hear birds outside, the wind in the trees as well. You embraced the peacefulness of it all. Now that was a silence you did not mind.

You slowly caught your breath, observing the pearly sweat on Aemond’s porcelain skin. You felt both his cum and your slick leaking down your cunt. What a mess you made, you could feel how damp that mattress was.

You noticed a low rumble coming from downstairs, a sign that the village was waking up and you needed to return to the Red Keep. Still, you both indulged a little more, not ready for this moment to end.

He left small kisses on your shoulder, listening to your quiet groans. He drew shapes on your arms with his fingers and observed the goosebumps erupting. He frowned when he noticed little scars scattered everywhere from years of sword training with him. You too had scars. A lot of them even. He never knew. You never said.

“Are you ok?” he asked, raising his head to look you in the eyes.

His sapphire eye caught the morning sun flooding the room and made hundreds of small specks of blue light dance all around you. The sight of him like this, all of him, was spellbinding. You answered him with a blissful smile. 

“I’m fine, my prince. ” “Stop it with the formal titles.” “It wouldn’t be proper, or so I’ve been told.” You tugged at a strand of his hair.

“Propriety has always been lost on you, I’m afraid.”

He laced his fingers to yours again and brought it to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“So… No regrets?” He asked, not sure if he would like your answer.

“Only that you robbed me of this pleasure for years.” You said playfully, kissing the bottom of his scar. “You?”

He chuckled.

“I didn’t expect you to swear like a bravosi sealord.” he said, leaving a lazy kiss on your lips.

“Only because of how aggravating you were.” you quip. 

He surprised you with a thrust to shut you up and, maybe, tempt you into a second round.

The bed itself was also surprised as its legs gave out and you both fell with the mattress on the creaking wooden floor in a loud bang and small clouds of dust engulfing the room.

“Ooh the innkeeper is going to kill you,” you giggled.

“He liked you, maybe you should tell him about it.”

Back in King's Landing...

Your father and Queen Alicent were mortified at the sight of you walking through the doors of the Red Keep nearly a day after you were supposed to come back. Clothes still wet, messy hair and a strong smell of dragon to top it all off. They had spent the night looking for you everywhere.

Queen Alicent seemed oblivious of what transpired during your little adventure in the Stormlands, but your father was no fool. He knew you. He saw you holding hands before you went through the Mud Gate from the beach. The look you exchanged before parting all but confirmed his suspicions. Not to mention your bare arms sticking out from underneath your hood indicated that you were missing a white shift under your dress.

Your prince asked the King, the Queen and your father for an audience immediately. He insisted your betrothal to him was not a request, for he would not take no for an answer.

Your father could not refuse a proposition from a Prince of the crown. Especially when he knew how dear he was to you… and whatever you were up to in the Stormlands.

You married before the moon turned.

At long last… you claimed his nights. 

NEXT: Part 2 (Indulging) or see my masterlist.

Thank you for reading!

Leave comments if you wish, I’d love to have feedback. English is my second language. 

[shapelytimber]

LIBERTINE !

Fuck the rushed dogshit ending, Wee John and Izzy continued to do drag together, sailing on the revenge from town to town. Don't miss their new "libertine" show !!

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Ok after more than a week of reflexion, and a chat with my evil advisor @quijicroix (who is a genius)... Izzy Hands should have sang "libertine" by mylène farmer instead of la fucking vie en rose. Why ? 1) mylène farmer is a very famous french queer artist 2) her songs (especially libertine) are used all the time in drag shows in france 3) la vie en rose as taken other the years a very bougie parisian conotation, so to have a PIRATE sing it ?? Wtf ? 4) she often performed with drag queens on stage- and I could go on.

But all I have to say is, please please please if you've never heard it or seen the clip- Go watch it right now ! It's so fucking good !!! (cw nudity and a bit of blood. Also old ass guns)

Wee john gets to be cunt and play the vilain, Izzy (who is more of a drag king) gets to play the gender protag <3 the show of course include a choreographed fight scene at the end

Process + other famous french songs rec vvv

VERY rough colors

Sketch

And just to be petty, here are other famous french songs that would have been way better than la vie en rose :

- Le bien qui fait mal (Mozart l'opera rock) ("I have joy in pain, I get drunk on this poison until I loose my sanity". The most izzy ass song you can get, it's horny kinky angsty BDSM themed song what more do you want ? Ok to be fair it's more s1 Izzy, but still !)

- Mourir sur scène (Dalida) ("I want to die on stage". well it's less a love song and more foreshadowing for the end, but if Izzy's death had been better written, less rushed, or happenned in an hypothetical s3 (I really don't think they'll have one tho-), it would have been so good.)

- Les demons de minuit (Images) (sillier for sure, but horny and iconic. Alas it's very het)

My final note on this will be, why french ?? Because Abba Lay all your love on me or the winner takes it all would have been so fucking good-

PS : I did most of the rendering very tired and a bit drunk after a party hfrifgruigfrui I had so much to correct after that what a nightmare

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #3

(I'm feeling kinda angsty today, I guess. If there's a fic/prompt like this already tho, please link me. 👀)

next →

✦

Reaper of Heroes

Once crowned as the High Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, Danny gains some grim reaper-like abilities and dominion over a specific subset of souls.

Heroes.

People who don masks and capes to protect the innocent from those who would harm them, just like he once did in the beginning of his existence as a halfa. He's was horrified by the responsibility but is eventually resigned to it. Due to bittersweet nostalgia, he quickly grows fond of the heroes that rose up after he took the throne and packed away the suit. Responsible he may be for the collection of their souls, but with council from Clockwork and the Ghost of Time's knowledge of the most desired paths, sometimes he'll just... let a soul slip through his fingers and return to it's vessel before it's chain is completely severed. He doesn't care that the observants complain constantly about those particular actions. If there's still room for a soul to do good for the better of everyone else, they can hardly stop him from straying from their plans. Much less with him as their king and protection as his obsession.

Only he is responsible for the reaping of these specific souls, unless delegated to one of the more common reapers at his command of course. Sometimes he follows his favorite heroes around, invisible to them unless he wishes them to see him or they're very close to death's door. He's trailed them so closely that some heroes have reported seeing a kind but sad looking man with white hair and aurora green eyes when they've nearly been pushed past the limits of their mortal bodies.

Ones who have passed through the veil but came back report vague memories of a similar sort; a kind man who cradled the very essence of their being with hands so gentle it's worth a few awe filled tears once he released them back amongst the living. The JL give him the moniker Grim, for his black and white coloring and for the shadowy scythe he carries not as a weapon but more like a key that unlocks the chain that binds them to their flesh. He never speaks to any of the heroes he interacts with tho. Always silent with a calculating, but sorrowful gaze.

At least until now.

When he appears before a bruised and beaten, young Jason Todd with whisper soft words in his ear as he comforted the concussed boy about to be killed in a fiery inferno at the hands of Gotham's mad clown.

As the explosion comes to a close, an unseen figure cradles the star-like light of a soul close to his chest as he wept and apologized for being unable to save the young soul from such a painful end but was thankful the poor boy this light belonged to could feel it no longer.

✦

What do you think? Angsty enough? I might have a little more to add to this but I'm gonna stop for now. I injured my hand yesterday, so it hurts to type for too long.

[e1e4n0r5]

Twisted Love: Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: You always expected to marry your twin brother, Daeron. However, when this does not come to be, you find comfort with your siblings. As only Targaryens could. 

A/N: Okay, this chapter is a little angsty! Aemond is having some big feelings and he doesn’t know how to express those feelings with words because of his emotionally stunted upbringing. But you can bet his wife is gonna knock that out of him pretty quickly.

Warnings: canon-typical incest, figging (insertion of ginger root into the anus), coercion/dub-con if you squint, mention of past fire-play, jealous husband, relationship insecurity, ANGST

You bounced on the balls of your feet, wringing your hands in front of you as you watched the skies for any sign of Daeron and his dragon. It was time; your twin was finally returning home. After ten long years apart, you would finally be together. The two of you; all five siblings.

Aemond watched you out of the corner of his eye as he stood up straight next to you; his place as your husband and as Daeron’s brother, loathe as he was to admit the latter. He couldn’t deny that he wasn’t exactly happy with this development, of the youngest Targaryen-Hightower sibling returning to Kings Landing, most likely for good. He detested change, and he had grown accustomed to the routines and structure the four of you had established for yourselves. Not to mention the dynamic; Aegon might have been the eldest, but he was hardly the one in charge. Aemond enjoyed being the head of the group, the feelings of security, power, and dominance it gave him on a daily basis. He wasn’t looking forward to bringing in an unknown fifth element into the arrangement you all had together. Even if that fifth person was his own sibling.

He enjoyed being your husband, and having you as his wife. He felt he had won that day, the day you asked him to marry you. The day you promised yourself to him, and he to you. The day you consummated your love for each other, officially. He was dreading the fact that the man you had spent your entire childhood fantasising about marrying would now be present in your lives every single day. Daeron hadn’t set foot in Kings Landing in ten years, and you had never been allowed to travel to Oldtown. Aemond had had you all to himself (not including your other siblings and children) for a decade, and now he just knew Daeron was about to steal you away. He’d lost an eye to Lucerys, and he would soon lose his wife to his own brother.

He leant forward and whispered in your ear. “Settle down, my love,” he enjoyed watching you shiver at his soft Valyrian. “People might think you have a ginger root up your ass.”

You blushed bright red, your back passage tingling with the memories of that day.

Aemond had been awake before you, as he always rose with the sun, whereas you liked to sleep until mid-morning. It wasn’t your fault; your husband was insatiable. There was a freezing Winter snow falling across the city, forcing Aemond to cancel his training with Cole that morning. So instead, he’d had a devilish idea.

You had spied him sitting in his chair by the fire, his hands working something with a small knife.

“Good morning, husband,” you greeted him as you slid your feet into your fur-lined slippers and pulled on your thick dressing gown, crossing the room.

“Good morning, wife,” he replied back, not taking his eye off the thing in his hands. Was he whittling?

When you got closer, you saw that it wasn’t wood. It was softer than that. A fruit?

“What are you doing?”

He smirked up at you. “I think I might just have found an ingenious way to keep you warm today, my love.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Have you commissioned me some clothing I don’t know about?”

He laughed, a rare but beautiful sound. “No. No, wife, not clothes.” He held up the thing in his hands. A ginger root.

“Ginger?” you asked with a small smile. “Are you going to put it in my tea? You know I can’t stand the taste.”

“No, my love; your ass.”

He said it so casually that you didn’t pick up on it at first. It took you a few seconds, then you gawked at him.

“What?” you demanded.

He carved the root a little more, examining it from different angles. He seemed satisfied. “Aegon told me of a little trick he’d heard about. Assured me it’s well worth a try.”

Before you could respond, the passage between your room and your siblings’ opened up, your brother and sister stepping through.

“Morning to you both,” Aegon greeted cheerfully. Helaena had clearly already satisfied him. “What have you both got planned for the day? Helaena was thinking of taking the children down to the Dragonpit.”

“Aemond wants to put ginger up my ass!” you declared hysterically.

The two of them didn’t even blink.

“Oh, figging,” Helaena explained, walking over to Aemond and examining the root he had carved. “Yes, it’s a very interesting experience. Aegon and I have both done it a few times now.”

“Always a fun time,” he winked at you, helping himself to a few grapes from your breakfast platter.

“Very well carved, Aemond. Good thinking with the flared base.”

“And a good size too,” Aegon added. “Our little sister will definitely be titillated today.”

You stared at your siblings, abashed. Out of all the things the four of you had done together, for some reason this was the thing that baffled you the most. Why, in the name of the Seven, would anyone want to insert ginger into ones back passage?

The three of them chuckled at how you were staring back at them all. Aemond stood up.

“Y/N, dear wife, be a good girl and bend over the bed. Now.”

You instinctually covered your rear with your hands, shaking your head nervously. “It’ll hurt, won’t it?”

“Not hurt,” Aegon shrugged.

“But it’s definitely a memorable experience,” Helaena smiled dreamily. “Aemond, do you have another piece you could carve for me? I think I’d like to partake.”

Aemond nodded. “I do, dear sister.”

“As big and thick as you can, please,” she hummed happily, picking up her skirts as she walked over to your bed. She bent herself over, exposing her ass completely.

“I only have a smaller piece. Helaena, why don’t you take this one I’ve already done, and I’ll carve a smaller one for Y/N? She seems hesitant about this whole experience.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you, brother.”

Aemond looked to you. “Abrazȳrys (wife),” he commanded, “come here. Now. Watch how Helaena takes this, and you’ll see it’s not as bad as you are imagining.”

You headed over to the bed, Aegon holding you against his body as both of you watched Aemond dip the root in some oil and then slowly press it into Helaena’s ass. Her hole accepted the small intrusion with no effort, but she began mewling regardless. Aemond pressed his thumb to the flared base of the root, keeping it in place in her ass as her hips lifted up and down, grinding against the bed sheets.

“Does it hurt, sister?” Aemond asked. “Be honest; our little Y/N doesn’t want any lies.”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. But it burns a little. It’s wonderful.”

“Burns?” you gasped.

“Nothing too bad,” Aegon reassured you, kissing the side of your head. “It’s just a bit uncomfortable.”

You frowned at Aemond as he began peeling and carving the other root. The one he intended to put inside you. “Husband, I’m not sure about this…?”

“You don’t need to be sure, wife,” he said simply. He looked at you, his eye softening a little. “Do you trust me? Do you trust that I would never harm you, or wish ill upon you?”

Your frown softened in return. “Yes. Of course, I do.”

“Then trust me now. This will be an interesting experience for you. It won’t harm you at all. I want you to try it. For me. And if you truly do hate it, you don’t have to do it again.”

“Except as punishments,” Aegon added cheekily, playfully squeezing you a little.

You smiled at him and Aemond, your will bent to theirs. “Alright.”

“Good, now bend over the bed, next to Helaena.” He paused. “Who seems to have climaxed all over our sheets.”

Helaena had indeed orgasmed, seemingly just from grinding herself against the edge of the bed, with the root in her ass. “It just feels so good,” she explained lightly, no shame at all in her voice.

Aemond smirked back at you, his argument won. “See? How awful can it be when Helaena climaxes in just one minute?”

You choose not to say that some of Helaena’s desires can be a little sadomasochistic, often deriving pleasure from giving and receiving various forms of pain. She had once orgasmed when Aemond and Aegon held lit candles to her inner thighs. Not close enough to burn her skin, yet close enough to hurt. It was peculiar, even for Targaryens.

Aegon nudged you forward, bending you over and pulling up your nightgown and robe. Helaena gripped your hand, still grinding and moaning on the bed. Aemond stepped up behind you, squeezing your buttocks and giving you a few spanks.

“Are you ready, wife?” he asked you, spreading your cheeks with the fingers of one hand.

You nodded. “Yes, husband.”

You snapped back to the present even as your mind ran through the sensations of having that ginger inserted into your back passage. How it had stretched you and begun to burn. As Helaena had described, it hadn’t been horrific, but it had kept you on your toes all day, until Aemond had removed the root after fucking you senseless in the evening.

Daeron’s dragon Tessarion’s cry filled the air. Not too far away, you could see her outline in the clouds above. He was here. Your brother was finally here.

Tessarion landed a hundred yards or so away, just enough for you to turn your head slightly to avoid the dust her wings kicked up. You almost didn’t recognise the man in the saddle. It was a man, not your twelve-year-old twin brother. You couldn’t make out his features, but you could see the Targaryen white hair. The man dismounted, rubbing Tessarion’s neck affectionately before sending her to fly to the Dragon Pit.

He started walking towards you all.

Your heart raced.

You moved to step forward, but Aemond and Aegon discreetly held you back. The Queen had to greet him, as was protocol. They could feel your need, but you only had to wait a little longer.

“Prince Daeron. My darling boy,” your mother greeted.

It was him. It was Daeron. He was older, a man grown. But he was your brother. His cheeks have slimmed, his nose a little longer, his jawline stronger. But he was here.

“Your Grace. Mother.”

They embraced, only for a second, before pulling apart. It was warm, by your mother’s standards.

She turned. “Your father, the King, is abed at the moment. The years have taken their toll, but I shall take you to see him later. You remember your siblings. Prince Aegon, Princess Helaena, Prince Aemond, and Princess Y/N. You know Aegon and Helaena married, we’ll have tea with their children soon. And Aemond and Y/N-”

Daeron rushed forward and pulled you into his arms, uncaring at your mother’s indignation and scolding. You clung to each other, and the world stopped. He smelled the same, whereas he lamented that you had changed your perfume, or perhaps you now add oil to your hair?

“Sister,” Daeron breathed in your ear, holding you tightly, his eyes closing in bliss as your perfume filled his senses. Oh, how he had missed you. It had been agony for him, every day he thought of you, longed for you. He’d never wanted to leave in the first place, it was his mother’s and grandsire’s idea. His heart had been crushed when he had read mother’s letter four years earlier informing him of your marriage. He had been filled with anger; how dare Aemond steal his wife from him, just because he was away studying. It was an outrage; he had been tempted to fly back to Kings Landing on Tessarion and dispute the whole matter, to take you away and live as husband and wife together. But he had known that he would never have stood a chance against Aemond, nor Tessarion against Vhagar.

His eyes opened and he caught Aemond’s. The taller brother stared down the younger, his one-eye unblinking. Daeron swallowed thickly, keeping hold of you for support. “Brother Aemond,” he greeted in a somewhat shaky voice.

“Valonqar (little brother),” Aemond greeted with a smirk, enjoying his brother’s obvious discomfort at his presence. He didn’t like the way Daeron was holding you so tightly, it irked him, but he could disquiet his brother in other ways. “I hope you’ve kept up with your Valyrian; the four of us speak it often, and the children are learning too.”

Daeron flinched. “Forgive me, brother, there was no-one to help me maintain our ancestral language in Oldtown. I only speak Common Tongue now.”

Aemond nodded his head and smirked; another piece of leverage to use against this intruder.

You didn’t notice your brothers’ tension, pulling out of Daeron’s arms. You cupped his face in both your hands, staring closely at his face. He had grown so much. He wasn’t as tall as Aemond, nor as strong, but he was here. He was home. You longed to kiss his lips, but settled for both his cheeks, your lips lingering on his skin. “Finally,” you whispered, like a prayer, “Finally, you’re home.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m home. And I’m not leaving.” He looked up at Aemond at the end.

Aemond just smirked. ‘We’ll see about that, brother’, he thought.

The eldest sibling stepped forward to break the tension, even as he had to hold in his laughter. “Daeron, it’s been so long,” Aegon greeted, pulling Daeron in for a hug.

The two brothers embraced for a few seconds before separating. “Hello, Aegon. I missed you. Helaena,” he smiled at his other sister, kissing her cheek before embracing her.

“Y/N missed you greatly,” Helaena said in her soft voice. “She’s happy now you’re home.” Daeron tried not to interpret that as you being the only sibling who had missed him and glad to have him back.  

Aemond spoke up. “Why don’t we take him to meet our children?” he asked, smiling down at you with his hand on the small of your back.

You completely missed how Aemond stressed ‘our’. Daeron did not, frowning at the taller, older brother.

Your face lit up. “Oh yes! They’d love to meet you!” you grasped his hand, pulling him towards the castle. “Come on, Daeron, come meet them.”

Aemond added, his smile widening wickedly as he clasped his hand on Daeron’s shoulder, “Yes, your niece and nephew would love to meet their uncle. Our son Maenor and our daughter Aena, though little Aena is not yet one so she won't have much to say.”

Daeron had to keep his mind on you and your happiness, as not to punch Aemond on the jaw. Aemond was playing with him, it was clear and painful. They both knew Daeron had been hoping and expecting to sire children with you himself, so to hear the words ‘uncle’, ‘niece’ and ‘nephew’… It was all just a game to Aemond.

One he had won.

The five of you, your mother, your grandsire Otto, and the five children filled Aegon and Helaena’s sitting room with a tea service. The twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, sat politely with the grown-ups and had a piece of cake before playing on the floor. Maelor and Maenor ate some cake on the floor, closely monitored by Aemond and a nanny. And you sat little Aena on Daeron’s lap, chuckling softly when you had to show your twin how to support her properly as she liked to bounce on her feet now she was close to walking.

Alicent and Otto were called out to a Small Council meeting after an hour or so, leaving you all together.

“You know Maelor and Maenor were born within the same week,” you smiled, watching with a proud smile as your son showed your twin his newest bracelet made for him by Helaena. Daeron still held little Aena somewhat awkwardly on his lap, but your little girl didn’t seem fussed, only cooing happily as she gummed on a wooden spoon. It made your heart swell, and almost brought tears to your eyes. In another life, they could have been his children. But then they wouldn’t be Aemond’s, which would mean they would be different. And you wouldn’t change your life or children for anything. You’d give Daeron a child someday, you knew it.

“It’s why we named them so similar,” Helaena agreed. “I actually delayed naming Maelor when he was born until Y/N had Maenor and had named him. They were conceived on the same night, after all.”

You choked on your tea and Daeron almost dropped Aena. Aemond quickly scooped your daughter out of her uncle’s arms, having been hovering at the side. He was very protective of both your children, but especially Aena. She had him wrapped around her tiny fingers, even though Aemond would never admit that. He bounced her up and down and cooed at her to distract her from crying. She was smitten with her father so it was always an effective tactic.

“Helaena…” you whispered. Daeron didn’t know any of that yet!

She seemed to realise her error. “Oh. I’m sorry, Daeron. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I only meant that Y/N and I had fertile days around the same time.”

That didn’t help.

“Do you think either of you will have more children?” he asked quietly, looking awkwardly down at the floor. He prayed you’d say no.

Alas, Helaena continued. “I’m actually trying to conceive at the moment, so it’s fortunate you-”

You interrupted. “I’m sure I’ll have more children in the future. Aena isn’t quite one yet, so in a few months, mayhaps. Does that sound alright, Aemond?”

Your husband looked at you from kissing your daughter’s chubby cheeks. “I’m always happy to have children with you, my love. We practice often enough,” he winked at you, basking in how much Daeron physically cringed.

You blushed and dipped your head. What was happening with everyone today?

That night was the first complete family dinner in over ten years, the King included. It was a lovely meal, it had filled your heart to finally be seated next to Daeron after so long apart, but there had been an undeniable tension in the room, coming off both Aemond and Daeron. Aemond had kept his hand firmly on your thigh the whole evening, not even moving it when food was served. He used his left hand to make your plate up, then his own, eating slowly with just his one hand. He barely said a word beside you as you caught up with your beloved twin.

After everyone was finished and conversation had lasted well into the evening, you all dispersed back to your rooms. Aegon and Helaena came in to yours and Aemond’s rooms via their usual passage, and you poured the three of them some wine. You had drunk enough for the day, feeling tired and a little emotional after the long day. Aegon and Helaena sat on a sofa by the main fireplace, reclining back comfortably. Aemond stood by the fire, contemplative as he stared into the flames and took the occasional sip of his drink. You felt restless from the energy he was exuding, sitting delicately on the arm of an armchair.

“It’s nice to have Daeron home,” you offered to the room.

Helaena nodded. “It will be, when we all know each other again.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Aegon pitched in. “You have to admit, sister; Daeron’s been gone so long, he’s basically a stranger to us now.”

“No, he’s not!” you protested. “Don't say that, he’s our brother! He’s always been our brother. It wasn’t his fault he was sent away.”

He jokingly held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying it is. But we haven’t seen each other in a decade, and there’s only so much letter-writing can do. If I hadn’t known who he was when he arrived, I wouldn’t have recognised him.”

“Aegon is right,” Helaena concurred. “He’s a stranger now, but he won’t be soon. The dragon lost will be found again.”

Before you could get upset about your brother's and sister’s attitude towards your twin, Aegon spoke up again.

“Well, how funny is it that you want your little brother’s babies?” Aegon laughed good-naturedly to his wife. “I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

Helaena just shrugged. “Well, you have three children already. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge Daeron a child with his sister?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t,” he smirked, looking at Aemond.

The three of you looked at Aemond, observing him as he just stood by the fire, wine cup in hand. “Fuck off, Aegon,” he grumbled.

Helaena paid no attention to his mood. “I think it would be nice if Y/N and I were both pregnant at the same time again, and especially if both babes were Daeron’s.” You looked at her beseechingly, silently begging her to stop talking. You could feel Aemond’s ire rising. He has never and would never hurt any of you, but his temper was infamous within the Keep. “Aegon has three children and, Aemond, you have two. Daeron doesn’t have any-”

“Because he’s been pissing away his years in Oldtown,” he snapped. He moved from the fire and practically threw himself into the armchair where you sat on the arm. He fisted the loose material at the back of your robe. He needed to be close to you and to squeeze something, but would never hurt you for it. “It’s not my fault he never came back to be with us. He has a dragon more than capable of flying from Oldtown to Kings Landing; he could have told Grandsire to get fucked and returned at any time. He chose not to; he chose to stay in Oldtown with those prissy Maesters and dusty books. It certainly doesn’t mean my wife owes him a child. You give him one if you want, sister, if you think it would be nice.”

“Let’s all change the subject,” you said softly, rubbing Aemond’s knee.

Aegon, rather drunk, had other ideas. “So how will we get him to join us? He’s been cooped up for years, after all. Doubt he’s ever seen a tit, let alone a cunt.”

You groaned, standing up. You took Aemond’s cup from his hand and drained it in one gulp. He didn’t even look bothered. You refilled it from the jug and handed it back to your husband. He lifted it slightly in thanks, drinking deeply. You had known Daeron’s return would disturb him, but you hadn’t thought it would be this bad.

“I think that can wait,” you said diplomatically. You couldn’t and wouldn’t hide your desire to have your twin join the four of you, but it wasn’t an urgent matter, and your husband was perturbed enough as it was. “Let’s all just get to know him again.”

Helaena frowned at you quizzically. “Have you not been desiring this for a long time, sister? You planned to be his wife growing up, not Aemond’s.”

That was Aemond’s final straw. He stood up abruptly, stormed over to his side of the bed and began angrily disrobing for bed.

Aegon and Helaena misinterpreted the action as an invitation, standing up and heading towards the bed.

You stood in front of them with a shake of your head. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Aegon shrugged. “Alright. Come on, dear wife. Away to bed for us.”

“Do you want to fuck my ass?” Helaena offered neutrally.

You heard Aegon reply as they headed back down the passageway to their own rooms. “You know I’ll never say no to that offer.”

You turned back to the bed, seeing Aemond already under the sheets, facing away from the room. You walked over to the bed, climbing on it from your side.

“Aemond?” you asked, kneeling behind him. He gave no response. You looked at his nightstand. His eyepatch lay on the dresser, but the dish where he stored his sapphire was empty. He hadn’t taken it out. “Aemond, sweetheart, you need to take out your eye,” you leant down and kissed his bicep. “You know it will hurt in the morning if you leave it in.”

Still silent, he removed his sapphire, placing it in the bowl.

Glad he had at least listened to you, you lay down behind him. You tucked yourself in as close as you could to him, wrapping your arm tightly around his waist from behind. “Aemond, I love you. You know that, don't you?”

Seconds ticked by and your heart pounded in your ears.

After what felt like an eternity, he took your hand and pulled it up, kissing the back. “I love you too.”

You considered it a success. “I'm so happy to be your wife.”

Aemond had to hold back tears. “I'm happy to be your husband.” Until you leave me.

Chapter 4

@watercolorskyy @shesjustanothergeek @aemondsdelight @thelittleswanao3 @misspascalpunk @heavenly1927 @probablybraindamage @theoneepileptic

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

Love Doth Run Smooth

Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Princess!Reader

Hello girls, gays and theys I am back with one last fic before the old year ends and the new one starts. Enjoy this short little fluffy and angsty Brienne fic and Happy New Year 🥳🥳❤️❤️

Thank you again for @weemssapphic and other friends for beta reading my silly little fics <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Little Angst, mention of war and wounds, fear of abandonment, fear of loss, taking care of Brienne, lots of fluff.

Authors Note: Brienne comes back home to you after another victorious war. What will you do to make her feel at home?

Words: 1'500+

A03 Link

Taglist

----

You were anxiously waiting, pacing back and forth in your chambers. It had been months since you’d last seen your knight and you missed her dearly. It didn’t sit right with you that she had to go to war. You were worried, scared she wouldn’t make it back, but evidently she IS the best and most skilled knight in all seven kingdoms. Still… war wasn’t something you wanted her in. The knight has fought enough. Her whole life has been a fight. She deserves to relax, to sleep, to rest. 

You knew very well that she first had to go to the king and queen, telling them of the war. You knew you had to wait, but you couldn’t. With trembling hands and a hammering heart, you left your room, against your father’s wishes. Sneaking through the hallways, you made your way to one of the balconies overlooking the great hall, where your eyes immediately fell onto your lover. 

Her short blonde hair was dirty and matted with dried blood. You knew why your parents didn’t want you present. The sight of her bloodied and injured physique made your heart ache. She stood stoic as she recounted the events of the war, how many soldiers they’d lost and how many had been injured beyond saving. But they were victorious. SHE was victorious. She always was. Your knight in shining armour, the strongest woman in all the seven kingdoms. But also the gentlest, the softest and the one deserving of all the love. 

It wasn’t a secret that you were courting the blonde warrior. Your father and mother have blessed your courtship, proud to have such a strong knight defending their lands and, at one point, continuing their reign with their daughter. Seeing her stumble when trying to get up from her kneeling position almost made you gasp out loud. She was injured more than she led on to believe. Your strong love. With quiet but quick feet, you made your way back to your chambers, calling the maids to get the bath ready for your lover.

Gathering some fresh clothing and a soft towel, you suddenly heard the door to your chambers opening and closing again. 

“Y/n?” A low, hoarse and quiet voice called out. You dropped everything you were holding onto the bed and rushed out to fall into your lover's arms.

“Brienne!” You whispered, your arms slung around her neck and nuzzling into her, holding back tears. She had her arms wrapped around your waist tightly and hid her face in the crook of your neck. You missed her, oh you missed her so very much. Pulling away, you looked into her eyes and your heart broke. She had cuts and bruises on her face and she looked tired, but she looked at you with so much love. 

“Oh, my love…” you whispered with a shaky breath and brushed some hair out of her face, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“I am sorry you have to see me like this my Lady…” she said quietly, searching your eyes for any negative emotion but all she saw was concern and love. It made her want to sob. The letters you sent her had kept her on her feet, fighting, fuelled by her love waiting for her. She still held you close against her, almost afraid of letting go. 

“No! No, don't apologise. Let me take care of you. Please. Let me tend to your injuries.” You said quickly, pulling away softly, taking the towels and clothes on the bed and grabbing her hand, gently tugging her towards the great bath. She was about to protest but seeing the determination in your eyes, she just gave you a small nod and a sweet smile. 

The bath water was ready, steaming up the room slightly and the maids had added some scent oils, making the room smell heavenly. You sat Brienne down on a chair and started taking off her armour. You made sure to be careful, as not to hurt her, in case she had any hidden injuries. Brienne tried to help you, but you just grabbed her hand, kissed it and put it back on her lap. Once all the armour was off, you started unlacing her underarmour, carefully peeling it off her body. Your breath hitched, and your brows furrowed in worry as you saw all the bruises and hidden injuries. 

“Oh Brienne…” you whispered out, looking into her eyes and she looked away quickly, ashamed of herself for making you so worried. With a soft hand, you lifted her gaze back to you and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Please don’t feel ashamed of your scars. They're proof you’re still here. With me.” You whispered and stroked her short blonde hair back. She wrapped her strong arms around your waist and held you close, leaning her head against you and burying her nose in the fabric of your dress. The both of you stayed like this for a while, just basking in each other’s presence. After a few minutes, you pulled back gently. 

“Come! Let’s get into the bath!” You whispered as you pulled your dress and undergarments off, holding out a hand for her, which she gladly took. Leading her into the hot water, you were careful to not go too fast and help steady her.

Once in the bath, you sat her down again and moved to grab a washcloth. Dipping it into the water, you started gently cleaning her face, pressing kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her forehead and her lips. Brienne hummed gently, and a small, relaxed smile settled on her lips. After her face was all clean, you moved onto her arms, torso and back, making sure to pepper small kisses over her face as you went on. After her skin seemed to be cleaned from the dirt and blood, you moved on to her hair, grabbing a small bowl and pouring it over her hair as she tipped her head back. With gentle fingers, you washed the blood out of her hair, checking for any head injuries and just finding a dried-up cut. You cleaned it as well as possible and then set the bowl down. 

“Let's get you dressed in something comfortable,” you whispered to her and stroked her cheek lovingly. Brienne grabbed your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it. She didn’t answer but just nodded in agreement. 

Out of the bath, you helped her dry up and get dressed in some comfortable linen trousers and shirt before drying off and getting dressed yourself. When you entered your chambers, the maids had already placed a bowl of fruit, some fresh water and some pastries on the table. You placed Brienne on the bed gently, telling her to lie down and get comfortable. You grabbed the bowl and a glass of water for Brienne. 

“Drink my love.” You said gently, handing the glass to her and watching her drink it all. She looked way better now that all the blood and dirt were washed off, but she still looked exhausted and defeated. Climbing into bed next to her, she immediately turned to snuggle in. Your strong and deadly warrior. Pride and honour spread in your chest, knowing that Brienne only showed her vulnerable side to you, and you promised to protect her no matter what the cost would be. Laying like this, Brienne gently ate fruit from your fingers, and you made sure to be very careful when running your fingers through her soft blonde locks. A hum escaped her lips and she nuzzled her nose into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you”, the blonde whispered quietly. You knew she wasn’t used to this type of care and love, but you were determined to show her just how much she deserved it. 

“There is no need to thank me, Brienne. Everything I do, I do because I love you, because I care, because you are my soulmate,” you whispered softly, so as to not startle the calm moment. 

“I love you,” Brienne sniffled and wrapped her strong and toned arms around your waist, pulling you close. You set the bowl aside and wrapped your arms around her as well, placing gentle kisses on her hairline as you hum sweet praises and words of affirmation to her. Feeling Brienne relax in your arms, was the most wonderful feeling to you. It almost brought you to tears every single time she fell asleep in your arms. Your strong knight. You vowed to protect her heart, even if you’d have to kill. You would keep her heart safe. 

“I love you, Brienne,” you whispered against her and continued rubbing her back and running your fingers through her hair, keeping her safe from nightmares and anything that could keep her awake. You were her safe haven, her love, her everything, and she loved you more than anything. She wanted to marry you, and she wanted to marry you soon. Being a knight, her life was a dangerous and short-lived one. If she dies… when she dies, she wants to die knowing that she belonged to you, and you belonged to her. That your hearts and souls were one and that even in the afterlife you would know that she would be waiting for you. 

You were hers, and she was yours, and no force of nature could change that. Because when she’s with you, Love doth run smooth.

----

Taglist: @erinyaya @vivendraws @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorius

As always: Comments likes and reblogs are highly appreciated <3