#Made In Bharat

[the-whispers-of-death]

okay but im feeling malicious

Stone (any variant) with a reader who is highkey kinda evil. he's sweet and loving to Stone but is nasty, vindictive and manipulative to everyone else (he doesn't let Stone see that part of him. he's trying to be nicer for his boyfie). anyway reader finds out what Stones dad did to him and sets out to completely ruin his life, burn everything that man had built up. reader has connections so he finds out where Stones dad lives and begins tormenting him psychologically at first. appearing outside his house with a weapon, standing there menacingly like a black blob in the darkness, breaking into his house while he's sleeping and messing with things just enough for Stones dad to notice but not enough for him to be certain that someone was there, ramping up the paranoia. then there's the more physical part. reader sends him threatening letters and writes nasty words on his house and car, keys it and slashes the tires and cuts the brakes. if Stones dad takes any medications reader steals those so he has to go get new ones which makes him look like an addict. if Stones dad has any interpersonal relationships with anyone reader fabricates messages and pictures and spreads them around as well as spreading rumors to ruin any social life he might've had. reader even gets their claws on his military record and makes false reports acompanied with false evidence to fuck with that too. reader keeps pushing until Stones dad is hanging off a cliff, clutching at the last straw (metaphorically) just for reader to come along and burn the straw while stomping on his fingers. reader just wants the wretch that hurt the love of his life fall deeper amd deeper until there's only the most drastic way out.... and reader can go as long as it takes to reach that point

Stone only finds out about his fathers demise some time later yet never finds out what really was the cause of it unknowing that the cause is right beside him, letting him lay on his chest and feeding Stone strawberries. reader is quite proud of himself for taking out the trash

Stone does not care about his father's death, he knows he should, he just can't get himself to care. He just worries about his eighteen year old half-brother Mohandas.

One of the things that keep him up at night is knowing that while Bharat had gotten therapy at the time he kicked Stone out, that didn't mean he was guaranteed to be a good father to Mohandas. So Stone often worries about his half-brother, but he's also too scared to reach out to him.

So as long as Mohandas is okay, Stone does not give a flying fuck about his father.

(Do I think Canon!Stone would be the best big brother ever if he actually had a chance to be a big brother to any of his half-siblings? Yes, which is why Baker!Stone is a variant of Stone, because I needed to create a universe where Stone finally got to be a big brother.)

[amitgopal390]

कोयला से बिजली कैसे बनता हैं? कोयला से बिजली बनाने का पूरा प्रोसेस

कोयला से बिजली कैसे बनता हैं? कोयला से बिजली बनाने का पूरा प्रोसेस कोयला एक ईंधन का काम करता हैं। लेकिन क्या आप जानते हैं कि काला हीरा कहे जाने वाले कोयले में ऐसा क्या होता है कि उसे बिजली बनाने के लिए काम में लिया जाता है। कैसे कोयला से बिजली उत्पादन किया जाता है। अगर आप भी नही जानते तो आइए देखते है विस्तार से कोयला से बिजली बनाने की पूरा प्रोसेस। वैसे तो भारत में, विद्युत पारंपरिक तापीय, परमाणु…

[bharatstarch]

BHARAT STARCH

[dropout-if]

DEMO (coming soon) - FAQ - NAVIGATION

Dropout is an upcoming (and a side project!) +18 slice-of-life interactive fiction game. Loosely inspired by media such as In the Heights and Night in the Woods.

Tag(s): Slice of life, Drama, Romance, YA, LGBTQ+, Text-based.

You take the train home from college after nearly four years away, knowing you will be welcomed with open arms, bright smiles, and the sincerest congratulations from your friends and family, from the entire neighborhood. Their pride has not been misplaced, for better or for worse, you are the one: the only one who made it into college.

This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks.

This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know.

Trigger Warning(s): Crude humor, Strong language, optional sex scenes, Violence, Depression and depictions of other mental illnesses, Substance use, Unwanted pregnancy (a RO's, Wanda).

A short disclaimer

Features and Characters below!

Return to your home, the fictional neighborhood of Downtown Heights, where you're treated like a local hero because of your grand achievement.

Determine how you managed to make it into college and why you decided to call it quits.

Reunite with your high school friends and acquaintances, with whom you've barely spoken in the past few years.

Romance one (or more) of the six old faces waiting for you in Downtown Heights.

Customize your Main Character! From their teenage years to their young adulthood, from physicality to personality. Be it your traits, flaws, and vices: everything shapes your return home.

Navigate the very dramatic shenanigans of young adulthood.

Queer relationships • RO Intros • ROs' Social Media • RO Facts

Jean/Jade Gray (he/him or she/her): THE EX • 23 years old

J and you were good. Until you weren't, and then they broke up with you right before you left for college. The two of you promised to stay as friends, but, like most promises between you and J, that too was meant to be broken. Your ex is often considered to be ambitious, determined, and cutthroat. You honestly expected them to be well out of the neighborhood.

Exes to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (v and triad) with J and Kai.

Uma Bharat (they/them): THE OLD FRIEND • 22 years old

It has always been you and Uma, and this has been something you covetously believed to be true. But then the distance settled in, and then the many years in which you lived abroad. You can't claim to know them as well as you once did. Uma once dreamed of being a successful painter, and they have never given up on art (though they sometimes feel like art has given up on them).

Childhood best friends to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (triad) with Uma and Travis.

Statler Amani (he/him or she/her): THE HEARTTHROB • 25 years old

You knew Statler back in high school, though they can't claim to have known of you until you made it out of the neighborhood. Many years ago, they were every high schooler's dream partner: kind, polite, intelligent. Their current partner must be proud. Nowadays, Statler works as hard as they can to help their family.

Unrequited crush to lovers. Statler is already in a relationship, a (more-or-less) toxic one.

Wanda Pavon (she/her): THE MODEL • 22 years old

Wanda had a future in modeling, the two of you were in the same group of friends in high school, and you never doubted she would be capable of making it out of the neighborhood. Her self-assertive and spontaneous personality surely would have made Wanda's road a little easier. You only find out why Wanda stayed in Downtown Heights when you meet her daughter.

Friends to lovers. Wanda is a single mother, her daughter's name is Gabi.

Kai Alofa (he/him or she/her): THE ROOMMATE • 24 years old

Kai's glow-up is the reason some Downtown Heights grandmothers believe in magic. The high school nerd turned fuckboy/girl has spent the past few years traveling around the state. Like you, they are back for the summer, ready to disappoint their parents. Rooming together comes as a natural result of delaying said disappointment (or so Kai claimed).

Friends with benefits to lovers (mandatory to romance Kai). It's possible start a poly relationship (v and triad) with Kai and J.

Travis Camaro (he/him): THE RIVAL • 21 years old

Uma, Travis and you were considered to be inseparable: it was the three of you against the world. That is no longer the case. A massive argument completely shattered the friendship Travis and you had. You know he resents you, you know he's jealous you managed to make it out and that he was left behind. And that's all you know. Travis has always been... a private guy.

(Past friends) to enemies/rivals to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (triad) with Travis and Uma.

Choosing a route.

The Dropout's Family

The list of flings!

[srbachchan]

DAY 5919

StWork, Mumbai May 2, 2024 Thu 12:49 PM

Birthday - EF - Elena Iankova Friday, 3 May .. and all our wishes for a happy birthday

🌹

Yo !

here before time for a very big change .. haha ..

but at work and got a bit of time and BOOM !

got to say the travel from Juhu home to work Marine Drive in 30 mins .. amazing Coastal Road and the Tunnel emerging on Marine Drive , just before its flyover and simply amazing .. !

Super constructed roads, tunnel, neat clean construct .. no traffic jams .. and done ..

Ok just to change the topic .. here is something to know :

Know what is a "mondegreen?'

MONDEGREENS

If you’ve been listening to rock music, you know it’s often hard to make out the lyrics. They sing it their way and we hear it our way.

Jimi Hendrix famously sang the phrase “While I kiss the sky” which was heard by thousands as “While I kissed this guy.”

CCR’s popular song originally said, “There’s a bad moon on the rise.” Many heard it as “There’s a bathroom on the right.”

Deep Purple’s still-popular chorus (known for its timeless guitar riff) “Smoke on the water/Fire in the sky” was misheard as “Smoke on the water/Fire engine guy.”

Nirvana’s anthem “Smells like Teen Spirit” had the lines, “Here we are now/Entertain us.” They were misheard as, “Here we are now/In containers.”

When Elvis Presley sang, “Everybody in the whole cell block”, many heard it as” Everybody in a wholesale frock”

There’s actually a word for misheard lyrics like these.

Mondegreen.

Some mondegreens became so famous that even artistes like Hendrix and CCR sang the misheard versions in their live concerts in a spirit of fun and tease.

It’s not just in pop songs that mondegreens occur. The US national anthem begins with the lofty words, “Oh say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light.’ Some heard them as “José, can you see…”

Occasionally, mondegreens had an interesting side-effect. Joe Cocker sang of a ‘lovely planet’ which was misheard as ‘lonely planet.’ The latter became the name of a well-known travel guide series of books.

No one knows why we hear the wrong thing although there are theories. It’s akin to the game of Chinese Whispers where the original line gets progressively distorted into some hilarious garbage by the time it reaches the last guy.

Mondegreens are not restricted to English alone. South Indians, with limited knowledge of Hindi, were taught patriotic songs in Hindi by zealous teachers. A popular one had the repeating phrase, “Bara tamata.” School students sang it with great gusto. Years later, some of them realized the actual words were “Bharat Mata.”

A popular line from Qurbani song, “Aap jaisa koi meri/zindagee mein aaye/ toh baat bun jaaye” was understood as “Aap jaisa koi…toh baap bun jaaye.” The defective version made sense to many who saw Zeenat Aman gyrating on those lyrics while gaping at Feroz Khan.

Many who weren’t familiar with the hill station between Bombay and Pune heard the Gulaami song as “Haathi ka andaa la” until they realized it was “Aati kya Khandala”.

I have a friend, her name is Geeta. Her family called her Gitu. Throughout her childhood and youth, she thought Rajesh Khanna was singing for her, when he said, ”Mere sapnon ki raani kab aaye Gitu”.

'Mondegreen' sounds French but isn't. In 1954, a writer at Harper’s Magazine remembered how as a little girl she misheard an old English ballad. The actual words, saluting a dead war hero, were:

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘢𝘳𝘭 𝘰' 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯.

She heard them as:

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘢𝘳𝘭 𝘰' 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯.

And thus was born the word ‘mondegreen’ to signify all misheard lyrics from that moment on.

Turns out, mondegreen itself started life as a mondegreen.

sent to me by a friend .. 🤣🤣

More perhaps later .. or perhaps not ..

Amitabh Bachchan

and some more .. a very pertinent article in TOI ..

[hindulivesmatter]

Resources to learn more about Hinduphobia, and Hindu culture.

Making a masterpost about this because I'm getting a lot of asks for it. The list will be updated!

Books to read:

Not Without My Daughter by Betty Mahmoody. This is the memoir of a woman stuck in Iran and how she has to illegally sneak out with her daughter. It doesn't focus on Hinduphobia but it does highlight the violence perpetuated by Muslims to women. This is a true story and a movie has also been made on it. Also, I just need to appreciate how well it's written, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time.

Aavarna by  S. L. Bhyrappa. This book basically details how Hindu history was derailed and destroyed by Mughal invaders, specifically Aurangzeb, the plot is fictional but the history is real.

All Religions Are Not the Same by Sanjay Dixit. This is a new book and I've just ordered it actually. It discusses the differences between religions and how secularism affects that.

Why I Killed Gandhi by Nathuram Godse. Includes the testimonial of the man who killed Gandhi. I'm about to read this book and I'm excited. Don't be fooled by the one-star reviews.

Hindus in Hindu Rashtra by Anand Ranganathan. Illustrates 9 examples of the hypocrisy of the current government when it comes to legalities and laws concerning Hindus.

Some people you can follow on Twitter are Dr Anand Ranganathan, The Skin Doctor, and VivanVatsa. They're all well-read on Hinduphobia and/or Hindu history.

A fantastic account on Instagram called vrindkavi posts amazing comics on Indian history and mythology.

Blogs you can follow for awareness, and learning about Hinduphobia/Hindu culture:

@rhysaka (debunking common myths, awareness, politics/geopolitics, news, culture)

@mrityuloknative (debunking common myths, awareness, politics/geopolitics, news, culture)

@main-agar-kahoon (debunking common myths, awareness, culture)

@yato-dharmastato-jayah (history and explanations, culture)

@forgotten-bharat (amazing for the history of ancient India, and culture)

@kailash-se-birha (culture, awareness)

@aranyaani (debunking common myths, awareness, politics/geopolitics, news, culture)

Interesting masterposts from other blogs:

Booklist to learn more about Hindu History by @mrityuloknative

The Ayodhya Masterpost by @mrityuloknative

Some important Hindu literature:

Mahabharata This is classified as an Itihasa text. It deals with a war between 2 royal factions and is a vehicle for describing the activities of the Avatar Krishna.

Ramayana This is also an Itihasa text. It provides the biography of Lord Rama who is considered an Avatar of Vishnu.

Bhagavad Gita This is an important text of the Vedanta school and is treated separately although it is part of Mahabharata. It provides a coherent summary of Vedanta.

Srimad Bhagavatam This is a Purana and provides a biography of Lord Krishna. This is an important text for the Vaishnava sect of Hinduism.

Shiva Purana and Linga Purana These Puranas provide the biography of Lord Shiva and are important texts for the Saivite sect of Hinduism.

Chandi or Devi Mahatmyam This is an important text for Saktas who worship Sakti or Devi. This text is really part of the Markandeya Purana.

But really, the best way to combat Hinduphobia, is to learn about our history and culture, because if you know the truth, you won't fall for the twisted narrative being peddled by the media today. If you've got to the end of this, thank you for educating yourself and learning about us.

[janaknandini-singh999]

Being a king was a lovely business.

But it was also a lonely business.

How can that be? If you are surrounded by all people chanting your name from the top of their lungs like a war cry?

But what if you never wanted a war?

Any of that separation, agony and a cycle encompassing all of that just going on?

"Dharma" Ram told himself, closing his eyes

When Kaikeyi exiled him, he had looked at the dawn raising his hand to the sun, as if to reach out to the new life awaiting him now.

When Dashratha wept rivers, Ram had never seen his father this vulnerable. He wanted to console him, to cry with him, but he was bound to go away for his sake.

When Kaushalya, despite being the mother and the pain she'd face by her son's separation, she had blessed Ram to go, to do what he was meant to do.

When Shurpanakha's nose was cut off by his brother, Ram had closed his eyes tighter and sighed, knowing a war was inevitable now.

Before that, however, during the exile he was quite happy. Braiding his wife's hair by the river, pausing to look at her with loving eyes as he smiled.

"What is it?" Sita asked him, smiling back "Don't worry, swami. We will be back at our home before you know it. This exile is just by default."

"My love, for me any place with you is a honeymoon. Who cares about any exile?" He paused again to tug a stray hair behind Sita's ear "Just let me cherish this moment. Who knows when it will come to pass again?"

Sita cupped Ram's face which made him tear up a little bit "Nothing can separate us. Even if the world does, you shall be the only king and God to rule my heart forever."

"A king's duty is to serve. So, let me serve you, not rule." He whispered and kissed her hands

"As a king?" Sita raised her eyebrows in amusement, grabbing an opportunity to tease her ever solemn husband.

Ram shook his head, laughing "As your righteous and rightful darling lil husband, of course" and tickled her as the sounds of their laughter blended in with the gurgling of water and singing of the birds.

"What must it feel like to be the king, dada?" Bharat had asked him with dreamy eyes once when they were kids. Only if they knew.

"Everything ever." Ram would answer in the future

"Everything one would think they'd want.

In the end only to be a martyr,

Deemed by all as a God."

"Dada, please don't leave us alone!" Bharat cried and cried, finally taking his big brother's sandals to be placed on the throne.

The heart that breaks to keep everyone else's from breaking. Did the people love the king because of who he really was or just because of the sacrifices he made for them?

But there was one who loved him for who he really was.

Hanuman

He was moved by his devotion so that the warrior monkey soon became his family

He looked up now at the fireworks that burst in the sky

Fire

He had a strange relation with it

Fire, that ran in Lakshan's veins like rage. The fire of poison that almost took him away. Ram's world would've been long gone into darkness if he had lost his brother. But Hanuman rescued him, because of which Ram would forever be indebted to him.

Fire, that danced on Hanuman's tail. With which he set ablaze the whole kingdom of gold to ashes. The arrogance of a vast emperor defeated by the piety of "Jai Shri Ram"

Fire, that devoured Raavan's body with the flaming arrow launched by Ram. A festival that would be celebrated for eons to come.

And finally, fire that Sita had to enter for the agnipariksha. Ram knew nothing could touch her wife but for a brief second, he recalled Sati's trial and the grief Mahadev went through. He gripped his heart as a tear lingered by his eye, burning as intensely as the agni Sita was so calmly going into. But she emerged unscathed and Ram finally breathed relief.

What does it feel like to finally come home?

Ram looked around

Diyas lit up houses as far as the eyes could see

An inviting, slow flame of love, not violent fire

Rangoli adorning every doorstep in welcome

He could finally see his family, his brothers as they used to be when they were young, his parents desperate to see their son back, his people longing to touch his feet, Hanuman hugging him fiercely in between sobs and lastly, his wife's eyes numb with the happiness of reunion.

"Swami" she breathed as tears rolled down her cheeks

If he had cried earlier, they would've seen him as a weak king. Hanuman would've set the world ablaze if he saw his Ram upset. So would Lakshman. And Sita would even set herself on fire, all over again, a million times in a million births if that would ensure his happiness

But now Ram let go, all the tears he was holding back since what felt like forever

So? How does it feel?

"Prem" Ram told himself, closing his teary eyes and smiling, swaying his head silently to the tune which was on everyone's lips

Ram aayenge toh angnaa sajaungi

Deep jalaake diwali main manaungi

Meri jhopdi ke bhaag

Aaj khul jaayenge

Ram aayenge

[areyoudreaminof]

Future Rust and Future Dust

Prologue, Chapter 1

While Elain and Lucien have settled into their relationship on the mortal lands, time is running out for Vassa. When Koschei comes for the firebird queen, he also wants his payment. Meanwhile, Beron Vanserra has worked with the Mortal Queens and Koschei for power in Prythian. With the clock ticking, can Koschei and Beron be defeated?

It's here. My very first longfic! I plan to have a chapter every up every Monday.

____________________________________________________

The chair was stiffer than he would have liked.

Unreasonably tall and straight backed, it swallowed Greaysen Nolan whole. His head could not clear the top edge while the bottom of his feet barely scraped the floor, and he had been waiting in it for a quarter of an hour. Bouncing his right leg, he stared at his golden pocket watch again. 

The hands seemed to crawl on the mechanical face. There was no magic here, he reminded himself. This was a neutral spot, far from Prythian, deep in a protected corridor in the Arbonne Royal Court. Queen Heloise sat to his right, while the Fae High Lord sat directly across from him. The Baron he was called. His dark brown hair was threaded with silver, though it seemed to clash with his ageless face. Greysen studied the fae male, looking for any resemblance to the red-headed son who’d stolen his bride. He could find nothing.

“So, that’s it, then? Briallyn is dead?” Heloise said, choking on vowels in a way that was deeply unpleasant to Greysen. 

“That’s it. Fell right into a trap and got herself killed. I presume you have split up her lands amongst yourselves?” The Baron asked in a bored tone. 

Heloise drew in a sharp breath. “I thought she had contacts in the Night Court? I thought—” 

The Baron chuckled, “No, Your Majesty, I have contacts in the Night Court. She was a runner. My liaisons answer and report to me.” 

Greysen knew there were spies carefully placed by the Baron throughout the fae lands. There was someone in a library, he remembered vaguely. 

“In any case, Briallyn got too caught up in her own vengeance against the Made female and getting the Cauldron. Had she waited and properly sworn herself, her youth and beauty would have been restored.” The Baron continued, flicking a hand absently, as if he was swatting away a gnat. Perhaps that’s all the crone queen was, Greysen thought, just a gnat. 

Was he just a gnat to them? Greysen wondered. 

As if he had spoken aloud, the Baron’s sneering voice rang in his ears, “Well then, merchant. Have you any new information on the human lands south of the wall? Last I heard, you were having trouble keeping your ships away from the prisons housing Scythian rebels.” The Baron chuckled as his flat brown eyes caught Greysen in their grasp. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” 

“N-no, Your Grace. My understanding is that those ships were independent merchants, unaligned with the guild. They have no—”

The Baron barked a laugh. “He truly thinks he’d make a good king with that sputtering,” the Baron said to Heloise, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. “If you hadn’t wasted time fucking your way around the good Queen’s court, you’d have more control over your own ports. Now, let me ask you again. Why are human merchants from your sad strip of land smuggling Scythians out?” 

The Baron raised a colorless brow. 

Greysen took a deep breath and braced himself. “The Mad General and Queen Vassa have made some alliances. Widows of merchants, mostly,” he corrected, as Heloise took in a sharp breath beside him. “All I know is that they’ve taken some political prisoners and rebels from Bharat and Neva. I don’t know where they’ve hidden them, but they haven’t set foot on my shores.” Greysen finished, trying to hold back a twitch. 

The Baron smiled as he gestured to Queen Heloise. “Well, Majesty? Does his explanation satisfy your curiosity?” The queen did not reply, instead casting a scathing look at Greysen, hatred burning in her eyes. 

“No,” Heloise hissed. “If that was all it was, there wouldn’t be riots in Tendukorum. The nomads wouldn’t have pushed back our armies into Rask. Her cousin cannot maintain order. Queen Linnea has pulled her forces out. The rebels must have contact with Vassa!” 

The Baron scoffed at the queen, whose face had turned a deep shade of purple in her fury. “Queen Vassa goes back to the lake in a month's time. When the first snow falls as the Wolf Moon rises,” Beron continued, steepling  his fingers, “I can negotiate for more help with your little…uprising in Scythia. But you, little boy,” he snapped, turning to Greysen, “had better get those nasty little merchants under control. Find the queen’s allies, sink their ships, kill them, I don’t particularly care. If you cannot maintain control, I can easily send a regent down. You wouldn’t want that would you?” 

Greysen gulped. “No, Your Grace,” he whispered. 

“Good.” The Baron took a long sip of wine, much to the queen's annoyance. “Prepare your ships to blockade the coast. Vassa’s recapture must be smooth. Koschei will take her, and I don’t want anyone heading for the taiga or the lake.” The Baron rose from his chair, and Greysen took in just how tall the male was. The Bareon addresses Heloise over his shoulder as he headed for the large oak door: “You can continue your little scuffle with the ponies. I’d suggest putting them down quickly. Rask has become quite impatient.” 

The door swung shut behind him, landing with a thick thud. Though he could not hear, Greysen knew the Baron had vanished back to the fae lands in Prythian. 

“He thinks to make a fool of me, does he?” Heloise whispered with pure venom. “He truly believes Koschei will not help me after all I’ve done for him?” The white powder on her face had bunched up in the lines of her mouth and brows, Greysen noticed. “I gave him Vassa! The Baron knows nothing of her heritage, or how much Koschei wanted her. And I delivered her!”

Heloise slumped down in her chair, clenching the leather arms with white fingers. “Any news of the Scythian rebels?” She asked.

“My mercenaries can’t seem to catch General Batu, but we think he may be hiding in Baharat,” Greysen said. “The Brightons have smuggled most of the Scythian soldiers out, and they’ve set up camp along the Scythian coast. They mean to march on the lake, I think.” Greysen closed his eyes as Heloise roared. He opened them in time to find Heloise crossing the room, the tendons in her neck bulging. She grabbed the crystal decanter of wine hurled it against the wall, glass shattering and wine staining the floral wallpaper. 

“You were meant to take care of this!” Heloise spat, her finger pointed in his chest. “I should have you drawn and quartered! I should have your lands!" She slapped him hard across the face. Greysen ignored the stinging on his cheek. Heloise began to pace the room, steadying her breath. 

“You will kill the Mad General when Vassa is taken. You will do everything in your power to control the little villagers you call people. Am I understood?” Her breath, laced with the stink of hunger and decay, filled his nostrils. A warning.

"Yes, your Majesty. Vassa will be taken to the lake, and I will bring you the Mad General's head." Greysen said, swallowing his fear. "I swear it."

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[zeherili-ankhein]

Pushpak x Hanuman aroace duo hcs?? :33

LESSSGOOOO

What these two have is BROMANCE. Like these two invented bromance in that era.

– Whenever Pushpak is unable to go to Ayodhya to deliver flowers, ofcourse Hanuman is the one that visits him to get them

– Pushpak was the one that introduced Valmiki and Hanuman, and then the entire ‘Hanuman destroying his version of Ramayan because Valmiki will feel sad’ happened

– They like to dance around eachother whenever they meet

– Practically inseparable once they are together (ofcourse when Ram is busy and isn't around because once he is there everyone just gushes about flowers together)

– EPIC PRANKS on everyone, especially Lakshman

(have you seen those reels on Instagram where one family just keeps throwing shaving foam mixed water at eachother as a form of prank? Yeah that one but with flowers)

– The kids usually joins in pranking the adults. And Shatrughan joins when they are especially pranking Lakshman

– Once Ram's entire courtroom was a sea of flowers (nobody knows where that amount of flowers came from) and poor guy had to cancel the Rajsabha that day. He wasn't angry though cause he's as big of a flower maniac as them....

– Hanuman knows Pushpak is Vasant, Vasant knows Hanuman is Shiva

– Hanuman roams around Ayodhya and finds out if anyone is still bad mouthing Sita (or Ram) then informs Pushpak. Somehow that person's house is very mysteriously flooded with flowers by the next morning..

– President and Vise President of “Shri Ram fanclub” (Lakshman is the founder ofcourse)

– (I just really like Artist Bharat ok!! Artist to Artist feelings..) Both of them along with Bharat goes on monthly picnics, where he tries - key word “tries” - to teach the other two how to paint. Pushpak provides organic natural paints made from flowers..

– Initially Hanuman gave mandatory flying piggyback rides to just the kids, but Pushpak is no less kid (at heart) so he joins in. He didn't really want to but Hanuman just put him on his back and went weeeee (I know not everyone thinks he flys because in some versions he does and in others he just jumps really high, AGAIN I JUST REALLY LIKE FLYING HANUMAN OK!!)

– ALSO Pushpak is the only one who calls Hanuman Maruti.

Hanuman: Pushpaaaaakkkk

Pushpak: Maruuutiiiiiiiiii

Hanuman: Pushpak!

Pushpak: Maruti!

Hanuman: Pushpak!

Pushpak: Maruti!

Everyone else:

This one is different BUT I am Bengali so I will add it ofc huehuehue

– That time Hanuman was searching for blue lotuses, Pushpak helped him find them. Hanuman didn't knew him back them but he was in a hurry so he let him help.

– Durga came from behind Pushpak and put her hands on his shoulder (in a comical anime way) and went “Take one back”. Poor boy was so scared he yelped and fell down. Then magically made one lotus disappear ofcourse...

Tell me what I missed...

[reasonsforhope]

"Maharashtra has become the first state in India to implement a universal healthcare policy by merging the Ayushman Bharat scheme of the central government with the Mahatma Jyotirao Phule Jan Arogya Yojana scheme of the state.

The updated policy will provide a coverage of INR 5 lakh ($6,900) for 120 million citizens, irrespective of their ration card status, and will encompass 1,900 medical conditions, an increase from the previous 996. Co-branded cards will be distributed to 10 million citizens by August [2023]...

Universal Healthcare Policy with Extended Coverage for 120 Million Citizens

During a joint meeting, Union health minister Dr Mansukh Mandaviya, Maharashtra’s deputy chief minister Devendra Fadnavis, and state health officials made this decision. Fadnavis emphasized that the enhanced healthcare scheme would extend coverage of INR 5 lakh to 120 million citizens in the state...

Maharashtra Introduces Enhanced Healthcare Scheme, Expanding Coverage and Infrastructure

Vinod Bondre, acting CEO of MJPJAY, mentioned that the enhanced scheme would cover citizens regardless of their ration card category, unlike the current MJPJAY scheme that only covers citizens below the poverty line with yellow or orange ration cards. The improved scheme will encompass 1,900 medical conditions compared to the existing 996. Fadnavis stated that co-branded cards would be issued to 10 million citizens by August [2023] and 100 million citizens within the next six months...

Fadnavis also expressed plans to increase the number of empaneled hospitals for the scheme and strengthen rural healthcare infrastructure..."

-via Trak.in, June 28, 2023

[prettykittytanjiro]

Ramayan: character analysis

Part 2

Link to part 1

This is the second part of sharing the stuff me and my friend made bc we couldn't be bothered to do physics and maths!!

Bharat

He has a great shoe taste

He loves painting

*sobs in colour theory*

He's the guy who quotes Bob Ross in perfect timing

Bharat: hey, look, its just a sketch but I didn't know if it's nice, should I keep it?

Also Bharat, holding a replica of the Mona Lisa:

Always carries the cutest little sketch-book and watercolour kit just in case

Its filled with candid moments of his family and pretty landscapes

He's the dude who took architecture for studying but always gets mistaken for an engineer

He's the university senior that everyone goes to for advice when they contemplate their life desicions

Jokes on them half the time he too is contemplating life

He and Mandavi are complete cutie pies

They both blush FURIOUSLY at any and every point of contact

Shatrughan is wondering how they didn't faint yet atp

If Shatrughan is the cool uncle, he's the uncle who gives great hugs

[kingofsummer93]

Northern Lights in Our Skies

Summary:

Two years after the war with Hybern, a looming conflict once again threatens Prythian's fragile peace. With the safety of the human lands at risk, Elain jumps at the opportunity to act as emissary to a distant, mysterious realm.

That she will get to expand her horizons along the way is a bonus she'll gladly take.

That she'll have to do so while masquerading as Lucien Vanserra's wife, on the other hand, is something she'll need some getting used to.

Ao3 | Masterlist

Chapter 4

A/N: Let me know if you'd like to be added to or removed from my tag list!

There was something different about the sunshine in the Day Court. Elain couldn’t explain it, but when she woke the next morning with golden rays of early morning sunshine streaming in through the billowy curtains at her windows, the air felt alive with magic. Not in the way that it always was, in Prythian, but like the sun itself held some kind of warming, buzzing power.

The sunken bath on her balcony was now steaming and fragrant with lavender oil, where the night before it had been refreshingly cool. It was early, and the breeze off the ocean held just enough of a bite for the warm bath to be inviting.

After her bath she ignored all the dresses she had brought with her in favor of rifling through the wardrobe in her suite as she had done the night before. The fabrics were light and gauzy, the cuts simple and understated and yet elegant. There were no corsets or petticoats or lacing or any of that cumbersome nonsense that human fashions favored.

How odd, Elain realized, to think of them as human fashions. Odder still to think that just a little over two years ago she had been happily flitting around a ballroom at the height of the season in one of those dresses.

If old Elain could see her now, she would probably faint. Better yet, if her mother could see her now, she’d probably burn directly from the grave.

It was an unkind thought, and not one she would ever have said out loud, but it was true. Her mother had been a strict rule-follower, if nothing else. For Nesta, that had meant endless lessons on the many things that made the difference between being a girl and being a lady: ballroom dancing, needlework, proper posture, just enough literature to not seem obtuse. But most important of all- how to wage war with her words. Nesta had been her mother’s weapon, a weapon that had been honed to a fine point since she had shown the first sign of the inner fire that fueled her.

And if Nesta had been their mother’s weapon, then Elain had been her jewel. The pretty thing to bring out and put on display, the charming, eloquent princess who could move her way through a room and make friends with as little as a smile.

Elain knew her sisters thought her silly, or simple-minded. Or, at best, lacking the kind of ambition and drive that they had in troves. They didn’t realize there was a different kind of power in making people believe you weren’t paying attention. Being a dreamer didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of absorbing the here and now, and wielding it to her advantage when it suited her best.

She shut the wardrobe with a snap. Whatever they said, however they tried to cajole her, she would go to Bharat with Lucien. She’d prove to them that she was worth something to their Court, even if she couldn’t wield weapons like Nesta or magic like Feyre.

Her gaze landed on the yellow gown she had worn the night before. A princess of the Day Court, Lucien had called her. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered the pang of longing she’d felt as she noticed his gaze on her.

It had made her uncomfortable before, just as agonizing as her own senseless attraction to him. But at least now she knew it was simply the mating bond, and perhaps a touch of simple attraction. He might desire her, but he didn’t want her, not in the way that her sisters’ mates couldn’t live without them. He had wanted another, and she had been taken from him. Elain was nothing but a shackle for him, something he had never asked for or wanted.

It might have made her selfish to think so, but it made the thought of him so much more bearable. They could work together, perhaps become friends. Their easy conversation the night before had certainly made it seem like that could be a possibility. And maybe eventually the novelty of their mutual attraction would fade, and they would laugh at how morbidly awkward they had been around each other.

She was just slipping on the yellow dress when there was a polite knock at her door. Elain sighed, but squared her shoulders. She’d have to face her sisters eventually, she supposed.

“Come in!”

The door opened and a head poked into the room. “Hello! Can I come in?”

It wasn’t one of her sisters, but a startlingly beautiful female. Her skin was deep and warm, like Helion’s, and her hair was a cascade of luscious onyx curls. She was grinning at Elain almost conspiratorially, as though they’d met before.

“Oh! Of course.” Elain smiled back warmly, thinking the female must be a servant.

“I’m Sydney,” the female continued. “You must be Elain. Helion sent me to escort you to breakfast.”

Elain’s heart dropped. There it was- the ambush.

“Thank you,” she forced herself to say. It wasn’t this poor girl’s fault she was escorting her to a High Inquisition. “Do you mind helping me with my hair?”

Sydney blinked, her azure blue eyes flashing with the briefest hint of surprise before twinkling with what could only be interpreted as mischief. Elain wondered if she had just made some kind of faux-pas. Did servants here not help ladies get dressed?

“Sure!” Sydney trilled, bounding over to the vanity laid out with an array of cosmetics, combs, and accessories. “What are we thinking?”

“I usually wear it down but I’d like to tie it back. It got so frizzy yesterday with the heat.” Elain eyed Sydney’s own shiny, bouncy curls enviously as the female began running a comb through her hair. “How does your hair stay so smooth?”

Sydney flashed her another easy grin. “Took me about a century to figure it out. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Would you like some tea?”

“Oh! Yes, please, that would be lovely.”

Elain expected her to leave, or call another servant, but the female merely snapped her fingers and a tea service appeared on the vanity. She couldn’t help a small gasp of surprise. This was no small bit of magic, even she could recognize that. It seemed even more extraordinary for a simple servant to possess such power.

Sydney poured her a cup, and returned her attention to her hair. The tea was fragrant, slightly sweet, and tinged a bright shade of pink.

“Hibiscus,” Sydney said, as if reading her mind. “A Day Court specialty.”

Elain made a mental note to look for the tea in the Palaces when she returned to Velaris.

“So!” Sydney said cheerfully as she smoothed some type of oil through Elain’s curls, “you’re Lucien Vanserra’s mate, right?”

Elain almost spit her mouthful of tea all over herself. She gulped, choking on the liquid as it slid down her windpipe. Sydney merely grinned at her, her gaze full of wicked humor. She was quite bold, for a servant, Elain decided.

“That’s, um…I mean. Yes.”

“You're one lucky female. I’d watch your back if you go into the city, though. Lucien’s got plenty of friends here who would kill to be in your position.”

“Excuse me?” Elain spluttered. Her cheeks were turning a fierce shade of red, and she was instantly regretting having asked this female to help her with her hair.

Sydney only hummed as she twirled and tucked, jeweled hair pins stuck in her mouth as she frowned in concentration. “Is it true, then?” she asked around her mouthful of pins.

Elain folded her hands in her lap primly, willing her burning cheeks to cool. “Is what true?”

Sydney caught her gaze in the vanity mirror and smirked. She actually smirked. The audacity of this servant-

“Do Autumn Court males fuck like they have fire in their veins?”

Elain was glad she hadn’t taken another sip of tea, or this time it would have sprayed all over the vanity.

“Do…what did you just say?” She was suddenly sweating. What did that even mean? Images flashed through her mind in rapid succession, each more lewd than the last. Mismatched eyes shining with desire and mischief, lips soft on her skin as his hot breath tickled her ear.

“Say it…”

She cleared her throat, shaking her head a little to dispel the lurid memories of those dreams. Dreams that had to be dreams, because the alternative was that they were somehow real.

Sydney chuckled. “Oh dear. I’ve embarrassed you.” She didn’t seem at all repentant about it.

“I’m not-I don’t…I mean.” Elain cleared her throat again.

Sydney was still laughing, clearly amused by her mortification. Elain lifted her chin, even though she wanted nothing more than to slide to the floor and disappear right into the marble tiles. “You mean you’re not one of his many friends?”

The servant howled. Elain tried and failed to keep herself from smiling. There was just something so carefree about the female that was irresistible, even if her line of questioning was absurd.

“Oh, he wished I was,” Sydney quipped. “You should have known him when he was young, he was the worst rogue in all seven courts.”

She tucked a final piece of hair and leaned back to admire her handiwork as Elain squirmed. She didn’t want to know these things about Lucien. And yet- she felt a morbid curiosity to know more.

“There! All done.”

Her hair had somehow been tamed into shiny, undulating waves, shining more golden than brown in the sunshine. Sydney had pinned half of it back in an intricate chignon at the back of her head, with the rest tumbling gently over one shoulder.

“Thank you!” Elain stood, grateful to be able to escape this conversation.

“Any time. If you move here I’m happy to stop by every morning.” Something about that seemed to amuse the female greatly.

Elain had no idea how to answer that. “Um. Would you mind…”

“Of course! Come with me.”

Sydney looped her arm around Elain’s and led her out the door, practically bouncing with every step. As they walked through the sunny palace, guards and courtiers made way for them, inclining their heads towards Sydney in polite nods. How odd, Elain wondered. Perhaps Sydney was favored at the palace? Perhaps…she blushed as something occurred to her. Perhaps she was a different sort of servant?

“I’m serious, you know,” the female said with a grin. “I’m sure Helion would be happy to give you a place at the Day Court, if you wished.”

Elain almost stumbled over her own feet. She thought of those dreams she had, dreams that weren’t dreams, filled with images of the Day Court. White sand beaches, talls swaying palms, a palace made of radiant, sunshine-infused marble.

“Why would he do such a thing?”

Sydney gave her another one of those grins that made Elain feel as if she was missing something. She shrugged. “He has a soft spot for beautiful females.”

It was Elain’s turn to laugh. Normally she would have been affronted at such a comment, but the female’s mirthful tone held no jealousy, or malice.

“Well. We’ll see about that.”

“I hear you and Lucien are going on quite the mission.”

Elain felt herself break into a sweat. How fast did gossip spread here? She remembered what Feyre had said about Thesan’s palace at the Dawn Court, and how even the birds there reported to him. Perhaps there were things other than fae ears reporting secrets to Helion here.

They reached a wide veranda on one of the upper levels, and Sydney opened the door and ushered her inside with a flourish. Her sisters were already seated at a circular table laden with a variety of pastries, fruits, dried meats and cheeses, along with a rainbow of freshly pressed juices and pots of coffee and tea. The sparkling turquoise sea was shimmering in the distance, while the city rose to their left like a wall of sparkling white and blue. Elain thought it was quite possibly the most peaceful place she had ever been.

“Thank you-” she started saying to the servant, but the female had bounded forward and dipped into a quick curtsey.

“High Lady,” she said with a grin. “I’ve heard so much about you. And you must be Nesta,” she added, turning to her older sister.

Her sisters smiled politely, both looking slightly annoyed at the interruption. “Hello,” Feyre said politely as Nyx squirmed in her lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Silly me!” the female said as she walked right up to the table and sat in a chair next to Feyre. “I’m Sydney.”

Nesta inhaled deeply in a way that Elain knew meant trouble.

“Spell-Cleaver,” Sydney added, popping a raspberry into her mouth. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long. My cousin talks about your family all the damn time.”

Elain’s mouth fell open. Sydney…Spell-Cleaver?

“You’re Helion’s cousin?” she blurted.

Sydney smiled broadly. The humor sparkling in her vivid blue eyes reminded Elain of the sunshine bouncing off the sea in the distance, like a thousand pinpricks of radiant light. “Sure am.”

“But…” Elain was mortified. “I thought you were a servant!” She clapped a hand to her mouth as soon as the words slipped out.

Sydney threw her head back and laughed. “I know! I’m sorry about that, but I couldn’t resist. Helion is going to laugh himself hoarse when I tell him.”

Elain hid her face behind her hands. “Please don’t. Why didn’t you say something?” Oh gods, she had asked the High Lord’s cousin to help her with her hair!

Nesta coughed pointedly as Sydney fixed herself a plate and lounged back in her seat, completely at ease. “It was nice to meet you,” her sister said in a poisonous tone that indicated it had been anything but pleasant. “But we have a private matter we’d like to discuss with our sister.”

Elain sighed and sat at the table, going through the arguments she’d prepared. She hated this. Confrontations of any kind usually left her so frustrated that they brought her to tears, at which point she’d lose track of why she’d been arguing in the first place.

“Ah, of course,” Sydney replied easily. “Elain’s trip to Bharat with her mate, yes?” Elain could have sworn there was a slight emphasis on the word mate, but she might have imagined it.

Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “How did you-”

“Did you think your advisors were the only ones who should know about this?” Sydney asked sweetly. Her blue eyes were still alight with dancing pinpricks of light, though instead of conveying warmth, they suddenly looked alive with threat.

“Lucien is a member of my court,” Feyre started indignantly. Lucien. Of course she’d mention just him, and not Elain as well.

“Is he though?” Sydney asked, tilting her head to the side. “Rumor is he doesn’t spend very much time in Velaris at all.”

“His duties involve a fair bit of travel back and forth, yes-”

“And what about Elain?”

“What about me?” Elain asked defensively, before either of her sisters could say anything.

“Do you get a say in your life, or does that get decided for you, too?”

Elain was too stunned to reply.

“Excuse me?” Feyre stood up and planted her hands on the edge of the table. It was such a Rhysand gesture that Elain almost laughed. “I don’t know what kind of accusations-”

“Within the borders of the Day Court,” Sydney interrupted, “mating bonds are a kind of law onto themselves. But females are given the freedom of choice, and that choice supersedes anything else.”

“What does that mean?” Nesta spat.

“It means that if a female chooses to accept a mating bond, then any marriage or previous engagement is considered void.”

Elain’s heart dropped like a stone as she realized what Sydney was doing. What Helion was doing, likely, by having sent her to have this conversation with her sisters. She didn’t know whether to be excited and grateful for the support, or mortified at standing up to her sisters this way. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Feyre opened her mouth, but Sydney held up a hand to silence her. Elain marveled again at the audacity. But then again, if it had taken her a century to figure out how to style her hair, this female was likely hundreds of years old and unintimidated by the twenty-two year old in front of her, High Lady or not.

“And it means that if anyone tries to keep that female away from her mate,” she continued, her voice sweet as honey but vicious as poison, “then that person would be breaking the law.” Silence. Elain’s heart was thundering so loudly in her ears she was shocked nobody had commented on it yet.

“Are you suggesting,” Feyre started quietly, eyes still narrowed upon the female, “that I would somehow force Elain to stay away from Lucien?”

“I’m sorry,” Sydney replied sweetly. “I must be mistaken. Was it not you who locked up your own sister?”

Nesta had gone very still. “Careful.”

Sydney bit into a pasty, momentarily closing her eyes and moaning with bliss. Elain felt a sudden, irresistible urge to laugh.

“I’ll need to go shopping,” Elain declared, clearing her throat. “None of the clothes I brought from home will work for Bharat’s climate, or for traveling.”

Gentle talons slid into her consciousness, and Elain shivered despite herself. It felt like a violation every time Feyre or Rhysand did this, no matter how innocent their intentions.

Elain, her sister’s tone was placating, and Elain was immediately irritated. If you want to spend time with Lucien we can arrange it…

Elain dropped her fork with a clatter. “You can arrange it?” Suddenly she couldn’t care less that there was a stranger at the table with them. “You mean somewhere where you can supervise, because I’m a child and not a grown woman capable of making her own decisions about what I can do and where I can go and who I’d like to spend time with?”

Feyre shot a quick glance at Sydney, her face stricken. Clearly her sister was less than keen on starting a full-on argument in front of this female who would no doubt report back to Helion on everything that was said. Elain almost hoped the female would gossip.

“No,” Feyre said calmly. “That’s not what I think, you know that-“

“I don’t know that, Feyre.” Elain’s throat was constricting, and she fought to keep her composure. This was why she hated confrontation. Anger made her break down into tears as surely as grief. “I’m sorry if that upsets you, but the truth is that you haven’t done anything to make me believe any differently.”

There was a heavy silence, broken only by the faint whispering of the palm fronds swaying in the breeze, and the crashing of the waves below them.

“Lucien is your friend,” she continued, more gently. “He’s a good male, you keep saying so yourself. You’re the one who kept asking me to spend time with him!”

“I didn’t mean on a dangerous mission halfway across the world!”

“Besides,“ Nesta was still looking at her incredulously, “you hate Lucien!”

Elain flushed as Sydney chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t hate him! I don’t even know him.”

Feyre took a deep breath, no doubt ready to use that particular missive to prove her point, but Elain cut her off. “Feyre, I’ve made my choice. If you forbid me to go you’ll have to do it as my High Lady and not as my sister, and you’ll be forcing me to make a choice I don’t want to make.”

Another heavy silence. Feyre seemed to deflate slightly, looking more like her twenty-two year old sister than a High Lady. There was a loud clattering noise as Sydney dropped her fork and pushed her plate away.

“So!” she declared, rubbing her hands. “Shopping, then?”

---

Lucien had a headache, and it had the exact shape and size as the male seated at the table across from him. There had been no ceremony, but gods be damned, Helion had certainly planned a reception.

A casual dinner between allies to celebrate the end of the summit, is what he had called it. A wedding reception was what it actually resembled.

The assembled guests were more cheerful than Lucien thought was wholly appropriate, and more than a few seemed to find the whole thing thoroughly amusing. None more so than Helion, the maître de ceremonie himself, lounging back in his chair and lifting his glass in absurd toasts every few minutes.

Lucien had to give it to the male, he certainly didn’t spare any expense when it came to parties. The dinner was held on a private section of beach at the base of the palace, with the mirror-calm ocean on one side and the imposing structure of marble and gold on the other. A long table had been bedecked in crisp white linen, what felt like solid gold plates and cutlery, and crystal goblets so fine they glittered in the moonlight.

Swaths of gauzy cloth had been draped overhead in a makeshift pagoda, and bobbing fae lights gave the space an intimate, cozy atmosphere. It would have been a lovely evening, were it not for the complete absurdity of it. And were it not for the fact that in the morning he’d be leaving for a long, potentially dangerous mission with none other than his mate.

Elain looked so breathtaking tonight that he could hardly look at her. He felt queasy every time he did so, wrecked by equal parts shame and uncontrollable longing. She’d let her hair down, a few pieces in front held back by golden pins to expose the delicately pointed tips of her ears. Her dress was once again in the Day Court style, gauzy blush-pink fabric that matched the color of the sky as the sun descended over the horizon.

Helion’s deep voice boomed over the din of clicking cutlery and chatter, followed by a wave of laughter. Lucien’s migraine gave a twinge in response.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, to no one in particular. Not that anybody was listening- slipping away from what was his fake wedding reception was comically easy.

Lucien walked along the beach until the flour-soft sand gave way to a rocky outcropping, the sounds of the feast slowly drifting away to a low buzz. Soon the only sounds were the gentle breaking of the waves onto the shore, and the rustling of palm fronds in the breeze.

He had just slumped on the edge of the water and yanked off his boots when his skin prickled in recognition of a presence behind him, though there had been no noise. An earthy, warm scent mixed with the salt of the ocean, and Lucien tensed mid-motion.

“Impossible to be alone in this court, is it?” he asked, his stiff posture betraying what he knew was an unconvincingly casual tone. He briefly considered the repercussions of simply walking or winnowing away before the male behind him could say anything.

“Interesting complaint from someone with the reputation of being a hedonist.” Helion’s voice held its usual mischief, though to Lucien’s ears it sounded slightly forced. Some petty part of him was glad for the male’s discomfort.

Lucien laughed drily. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. He bit back on the retort before it could get him killed. It suddenly occurred to him how far from the party he’d walked, and how alone they were. Every encounter he’d previously had with Helion had been under the mountain, or in Velaris, surrounded by Feyre’s court. It was unnerving, being alone with him- uncharted territory he wasn’t ready to explore.

Lucien got to his feet reluctantly, taking a few unconscious steps back. His socks were slippery on the damp rock, and for a wild moment he pictured Helion simply pushing him into the waves, his skull cracking open like an egg.

Dead at his own fake wedding. There had never been a better metaphor for his pathetic life.

Helion tracked his movements with a frown. “I’m not your enemy, you know.”

Lucien huffed another laugh, remembering his conversation with Cassian the previous year. I’m not your enemy, you know. It was a foolish statement. They were all playing their own games, the rules of which were unknown to anyone but themselves.

“That’s good to know. I have enough of those as it is.”

Helion crossed his powerful arms, raising a sardonic eyebrow. “And I’m sure that serpentine tongue had nothing to do with earning you any of them.”

“Did you follow me out here to chat about all my deficiencies or was there something else?” Lucien snapped. He bit his tongue as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Truly, would he ever stop with the death wish?

Helion stared at him for a beat, the expression in his amber eyes unreadable. “That temper’s pure Autumn, I’ll give you that.” His gaze flicked around Lucien’s features, as if searching for something. “So is that hair.” Something seemed to shift in his stance, a hairline crack piercing his steely exterior.

Lucien looked away, his gut roiling with dread. There was a reason he’d avoided this truth- as had the male before him, for that matter.

“And the rest?” he asked, clumsily bending down to shove his boots back on. So much for his moment of peace. “Is that not Autumn as well?”

Helion was silent for so long, unmoving, that Lucien had to fight the urge to fidget. “I didn’t know,” he said finally, so quietly Lucien could barely make out his words over the sound of the waves.

A wave of nausea rose so quickly in him he thought he might hurl all over the High Lord’s sandaled feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t know, Lucien!” he said again, his deep voice cracking in anguish. Something about seeing the usually unruffled, jovial male showing such vulnerability made him want to look away.

This was madness. His heart was beating so wildly he was sure Helion could probably hear it. There was a reason he’d never said anything, had simply accepted the truth of his existence without looking at it too closely. Prythian wasn’t the kind of place where a truth like that could live in the light without any repercussions.

“And I don’t know what in the cauldron you’re-”

Lucien’s voice died in his throat as a vice wrapped itself around his throat. In an instant he was no longer on a beach in the Day Court, but hurtled back in time to the stone floor of a throne room, held down by invisible shackles. He fought to quell the rising panic as his legs buckled underneath him, rocks biting into his knees painfully.

“Stop-” His voice came out as a painful rasp as the invisible grip around his throat tightened. The foreign magic in his veins thrummed to life, begging for release. Like calls to like. Even with his lungs struggling for breath, Lucien suddenly felt an absurd urge to laugh.

“Do it yourself,” Helion urged as magic radiated from him in a golden halo. “Or do you still not know what I’m talking about?”

Lucien’s vision was going blurry. He pawed uselessly at his throat, his hands grappling with chains he couldn’t see or grasp. Damn him. Damn this infuriating peacock of a male.

The power exploded out of him in a burst of white light, uncontrolled and wild, like a river breaking free of a dam. The grip on his neck vanished, and he took in shaky lungfuls of air as the magic momentarily blinded him. From somewhere above him Helion let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a moan of anguish.

“Was that necessary?” Lucien spat, struggling to his feet, his fists clenched uselessly at his sides.

“I didn’t know!” Helion said for the third time. He ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair, looking so uncharacteristically frazzled that Lucien almost felt bad for him. “Not for certain. If I had-”

“You would have what?!” Lucien was aware his voice was rising, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “You would have stormed the Autumn Court and started a war? Maybe gotten my mother killed in the process?”

The ground shuddered beneath him. “Careful,” Helion warned. He was still glowing faintly in the glare of the setting sun, but it was nothing like the soft, warm glow that Feyre sometimes emanated. There was something dangerous about this male, and the magic he wielded. The same magic that flowed through Lucien’s veins, he remembered with a nauseating lurch.

“Or maybe you just wish you could have gotten me killed when you had the chance?” he continued, centuries of anguish bursting out of him in a torrent of word vomit. “That way you could have avoided the whole nasty business altogether.”

“Don’t be absurd. You’re lashing out at the wrong person.”

Lucien’s laugh was mirthless. “And who is the right person? Beron? Maybe I should pay my dear father a visit and see what he has to say about this situation?”

Helion flinched at the emphasis on father. For a moment they simply stared at each other like two exhausted cage fighters, both seemingly unwilling to either concede or keep fighting.

“You could have a place here, you know,” Helion said finally, taking a tentative step forward as if to avoid spooking him. “Your place is here.”

Lucien laughed again. It seemed the only thing he was capable of doing anymore. Maybe he was losing his mind after all.

“Now who’s being absurd? How exactly would that look, me living here?” He chose to ignore what else Helion’s words implied. Your place is here. Those words were too complicated to process for someone who hadn’t belonged anywhere in centuries. Or perhaps ever.

“If this thing goes according to plan, your father won’t be anybody’s problem anymore,” Helion replied darkly.

For a moment Lucien could only stare. “What?”

Helion shrugged. “War is messy. Casualties are to be expected. All I’m saying is-” He stopped short and whirled.

“Sorry!” a small voice squeaked.

Lucien’s stomach dropped as he looked around Helion and found Elain standing there, eyes wide.

“Sorry!” she said again, wringing her hands. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, it’s a bad habit. That’s what happens when you’re friends with wraiths.” She laughed nervously, her eyes pinging back and forth between him and Helion. “Anyway, sorry for interrupting, I’ll just-”

“Nonsense!” Helion boomed, cutting off her ramblings. He slipped back into his usual persona without so much as a blink. “You’re not interrupting anything. I’ll get out of your hair and leave you two love birds to it, shall I?” He winked lasciviously, and with a flash of light disappeared into the night.

Lucien felt like he’d been punched in the gut. For a moment he wasn’t sure whether he was about to burst into deranged laughter or simply hurl. He settled for slumping to the ground with a decidedly ungraceful huff.

“What was that?” Elain asked quietly. “Are you alright?”

Even mentally drained as he was he still marveled briefly at the fact that his mate had just checked in on his well-being. He glanced at her carefully. “Did you…what exactly did you hear?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Oh! Nothing, really, just…something about your father? I promise I didn’t mean to snoop…”

Lucien sagged a little in relief. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Different day, different disaster. Story of my life, really.”

Elain sat carefully on the rocks beside him, smoothing out the gauzy fabric of her dress. In the burning light of the setting sun she was glowing with health, so at odds with the gaunt, lifeless female she’d been when he’d first laid eyes on her.

“You know, all I ever wanted was a quiet life.” He didn’t know what made him say it, but it was true. All he’d truly ever wished for was to escape his family’s backstabbing court and live a simple life with someone he loved. No amount of traveling or running away from his duties had ever brought him closer to finding it.

She shot him a suspicious look. “That’s a bold claim for someone who seems to jump into danger the first chance he gets.” Her chocolate brown eyes were twinkling with humor, and it was an effort not to get lost in them.

“Trouble finds me, I’ll have you know.”

“Sometimes I wish more trouble would find me,” Elain said quietly. “A quiet life is nice and all, until you start talking to your plants out of boredom.”

Lucien blinked in surprise, both at the admission and her apparent willingness to talk to him. He wondered how long it would be until the novelty wore off. If he was honest with himself, he thought the answer was perhaps never.

“Seems we both have things to learn from each other, then,” he said wryly. “I’ll teach you how to find trouble if you teach me how not to jump feet-first into danger.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. It sounded too much like a desperate plea for her to spend time with him.

Elain only laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

The distant sounds of revelry seemed to intensify, and Elain glanced down the beach with a slight frown.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Lucien blurted. “I know our…connection makes you uncomfortable. I can’t imagine any of this makes it easier.”

To his surprise she waved off his concern. “It’s fine. I know you’re not exactly thrilled about it either.” Lucien opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. “And, about that...” An embarrassed flush was rising up her neck and cheek, and Lucien forced himself to sit still and not lean towards her eagerly. “I know I haven’t exactly been very kind to you in the past, and I…well, I’m sorry.” Her words came out in a rush, as if she was convincing herself to say them before she lost her nerve.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Lucien said quickly. His heart was pounding, and not for the first time he wished she didn’t have the ability to hear it.

“Maybe…” She bit her lip shyly, and Lucien had to look away. He had to get a grip if he was going to survive being around her. “Maybe we could be…I don’t know, friends?”

She said it so tentatively, as though it was a foreign word whose meaning she didn’t fully understand. A warm, desperate hope suddenly bloomed in his chest, and he prayed to whoever was listening that it wasn’t visible on his face.

“Friends?” he asked with a crooked grin. “I don’t even know you. How do I know you deserve such an honor?”

She grinned back at him and stuck out her hand primly. “Hi, I’m Elain. I love dancing and hosting parties, and I’m pretty good at making things grow.”

He took her hand, swallowing thickly at the sight of her much smaller hand engulfed in his. As soon as their skin made contact his chest tightened, the thread that joined them together coiling tight around his heart.

“Hi, Elain. I’m Lucien. I love books and nature, and I’m pretty good at climbing trees and catching fish with my bare hands.”

Elain’s head cocked to the side, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Really? How? Can you show me?”

Lucien chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Find me a stream on the continent and I’ll teach you. It can be your first lesson in getting into trouble.”

“Deal!”

He let her hand go, his skin still tingling from her touch. They sat in companionable silence until he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Speaking of the continent. I, uh…bought you something.” He felt his face grow hot, and knew his cheeks must be approaching a color close to his hair.

He reached into his pocket and set a small velvet bag into her palm with a rueful smile. Elain’s eyes widened as she took out a glittering ring. It had a thin gold band, set with a small ruby surrounded by elongated diamonds in a shape that could have been flower petals, or perhaps a sunburst.

“I saw it at the market today,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I thought you might like it.” This was an understatement. In truth he had spent hours looking into different jewelry shops, looking for something that she would like. Judging by how badly his previous gifts had been received, he’d settle for something that she didn’t hate. “If you don’t like it you don’t need to wear it, of course. We can just get plain rings.”

She was smiling at him shyly, and the sight of it was enough to shut him up. “I love it,” she said quietly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Elain slipped the ring onto her left hand, and for a second Lucien couldn’t breathe. Not real, he reminded himself.

Not real.

Taglist: @areyoudreaminof @separatist-apologist @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @corcracrow @autumndreaming7 @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @vulpes-fennec @sunshinebingo @asnowfern @hallway5 @thelovelymadone @princeash @screaming-opposum

[ae-neon]

Nesta in the Hewn City aka Nesta Embracing the Dark

Back to long headcanons!!! Okay let's indulge (also I haven't read ACOSF so unfortunately, I can't pull on random details for world building the way I usually do)

I've talked about the Mor/Nesta as Aphrodite/Venus parallel and how Nesta always ended up doing better at the same things even if she wasn't supposed to.

Let's apply that to the Hewn City, the Court of Nightmares. (This isn't a Mor hate space btw, I don't like her but I don't hate her)

Mor somehow convinces the IC to "assign" Nesta to the Hewn City (to do whatever the fuck fake job Elon gave her)

And Nesta actually agrees to get away from the IC (mostly Cassian as Rhys, happy to be rid of Nesta, readily agrees that only Azriel, Rhys and Feyre can come and go as they please - the rest will have to ask her permission)

Nesta goes to the CoN. She's unconcerned with Keir's anger and suspicion. At first all she does is work and sleep. She drinks less, the Hewn City only serves pure Faerie wine and the effect is too psychedelic for her - she worries she might lose control of her power.

Without any way to tell time, Nesta's schedule becomes irregular but she needs structure so she slowly starts to build a routine. Goes on walks through the underground city, finds eateries and oddity shops and almost ancient libraries.

The Fae here speak an older, higher form of the common tongue, stagnated by their isolation but Nesta learns quickly - adopts the accent and gets less glares from Keir, gets invited to tea with the daughters of noble families and gets called to "parties" with their sons, though she avoids them as much as she can.

But the game is familiar, almost nostalgic at this point and Nesta has a plan to stash enough to get her comfortably to the Continent, to Bharat or Rask. So she plays.

The first few dresses and jeweled pieces are on loan from her sister and the high lord but wealth begets wealth and soon she's gifted diadems, boxes of spidersilk, fresh grown flowers (rare here) and onyx cutlery sets.

She trades most of them, through Azriel, careful not to be seen as made up of bits and pieces of other people's generosity or perpetuate the idea she can be bought.

She holds office in the moonstone palace but rents a place closer to the base of the mountain, at the heart of the city. She doesn't know why but here she sleeps better - falls into comforting darkness as if it were a mother's embrace.

She dreams too, of being winged and fanged, feral and nocturnal. Starts to see herself in the twisting beasts carved into the mountain. And in the deep dark of its capital, the heart of Night begins to beat again.

She doesn't notice it, not the way Rhys and Azriel do as they visit for their monthly shows of force. The faces looking back at them are less pale, less sunken, less frightened. They feel it too, in their own power amplifying in the Court of Nightmares, could swear the shadows dancing on the cavern walls moved different to the dancers on the floor.

On the edges of the city, at the very base of the mountain, there are Fae who look different. Nesta thinks she's dreaming the first time she sees one - small and lithe like a child but sharp toothed and with eyes that only reflected the little light they could catch.

She sees them more and more as she walks the route to the eldest library in the city. Sometimes her mind slips, unfocused, and she finds herself reading languages she is sure she doesn't know.

She is sure the thing that was once a Fae is speaking something she cannot understand and yet she hears, "the dark be with you, my Lady."

Doesn't know how she forms the words, "And the stars guide your way, stranger."

Nesta is almost sure she dreams it until one day she is in Rhysand's office as he and Azriel go over her reports - suspicious of Keir's waning oversight.

She notices it then for the first time, the woman carved into the wall behind Rhysand's private throne. Her silver eyes. Had that always been there?

"Who is that?"

She's not even sure which one of them answers her, eyes still fixed on the woman, "The Illyrians call her Lunaria, the goddess of the Moon. But here, she is simply called the Lady, they believe she sold her soul to the god of death to grant her son immortality - making him the first Fae. Though different courts have different ver..."

The sound of her beating heart, slow and steady was suddenly so loud, so powerful it felt like the pulse carried all the way through the mountain.

She sees her everywhere after that, in family sigils, in the faded paint of old murals, in tapestries.

In dreams

In the mirror

****

Aaaannnnyyyywaayyss

like I said I haven't read ACOSF but if I was Rhys I would have killed Nesta the second I realised she brought the house to life and that it loved her.

The implications are too insane. HL's power is literally tied to their land and she makes a house carved out of a mountain - the house you literally grew up in - come to life??

If he was really a feminist he'd recognise the threat 🤷🏻‍♀️

[istoleherheart-3008]

AIR FORCE AEROBATIC SHOW

Bhopal, Madhya Pradesh

28th September, Thursday

The crowd going wild; the massive helicopters flying past doing unbelievable turns and manuevers in the sky. The loud jets flying by before you can blink. The beautiful and mathematically precise formation of the aircrafts. The Suryakiran IAF aerobatic unit made the sky their playground and absolutely won the hearts of the crowd. The jets were loud, but enthusiasm and cheers of the crowd was louder. People randomly shouting 'bharat mata ki jai'. Everybody was in awe of the dapper uniform clad officers. Children from the age of 4 to old uncles of 40, everyone was impressed. I hope today's event inspired a few careers

[the-whispers-of-death]

"Dance with me."

Grim Reaper turned to the person speaking, a man he knew so well.

Heartthrob.

Captain Fariz "Heartthrob" Shah was an old acquaintance of Grim Reaper's, the closest thing he had to a friend. Standing at 6'6" tall, he was shorter than Grim Reaper, but he was so much warmer. His brown eyes sparkled and his warm brown skin dimpled when he smiled, brightening any room he walked in. Since they were on deployment, his usual beard was shaved clean, giving the thirty-five year old a sense of youth as his rounded jaw was shown off.

He looked... handsome. If Grim Reaper gave it much thought about Heartthrob's appearance.

"What did you say?" Grim Reaper asked, clearly thinking he had misheard. His voice was deep and monotone as always, an air of coldness surrounding him.

No one ever asked to dance, mostly because they were scared of him. And those who weren't scared of him told him he was just a mindless soldier, a weapon. They weren't wrong, Grim Reaper was nothing more than a weapon.

Okay well, he was also Bharat Mishra's son, a man whom he looked so much alike that he took his father's name as his own. He became his father, and the Marine Corps loved it.

Heartthrob's smile hadn't dimmed and he moved closer to Grim Reaper, holding out a calloused hand. "Dance with me, this is my favorite song. I want to dance with you to it," he repeated, as if that made any sense to Grim Reaper.

But Grim Reaper just thought it was one of the odd things about Heartthrob. Because surely the man must be odd to take one look at a mindless soldier like Grim Reaper and decide to befriend him.

Grim Reaper slipped his hand in Heartthrob's, feeling the warmth of the other man's encase his gloved hand. "I don't know how to dance," he murmured as he let Heartthrob lead him onto the bar's dance floor.

"No need for you to, not really." Heartthrob led him to the middle of the dance floor and let go of Grim Reaper's hand, placing his own around Grim Reaper's waist. "Just wrap your arms around my neck and sway. It'll be fun, I promise."

Grim Reaper bit back his initial instinct to say that he never had fun, but he instead just said nothing. He wrapped his burly arms around Heartthrob's neck, something that would make the others wary.

He had snapped so many enemy soldiers' necks so many times over the years and his efficiency for doing so made the others scram whenever he was in arms distance from them.

But not Heartthrob. Heartthrob stayed so close to Grim Reaper, gave him affectionate pats on the shoulders and chest, touched his waist like he was doing now. He wasn't afraid of being hurt, being burned by the intense paranoid that clouded Grim Reaper's ability to make friends.

He always thought people were going to hurt him. That someone was going to poison his food. Drug his drink.

But Heartthrob always took the first bite of Grim Reaper's food and waited minutes before telling him that it was safe to eat. Always taking the first sip so Grim Reaper knew he could drink it safely.

So kind, so... nurturing.

Grim Reaper always wondered what was in it for Heartthrob. Was it so he could boast about taking down Grim Reaper's walls? Was it so he could hurt Grim Reaper when his walls were fully down?

It made him want to pull back from the man.

Grim Reaper went to do just that, but he looked into Heartthrob's eyes and his paranoia melted away. Instead of pulling away, he found himself leaning in. Since they were so close, he could smell Heartthrob's cologne that he had worn to supposedly woo people.

His callsign was Heartthrob, not because he could charm people, but because he couldn't. He was notoriously bad at getting dates, so other Marines started teasing him and calling him a heartthrob. True to his easygoing nature, he never got angry at the teasing, he actually welcomed it. He joined in on making fun of himself on more than one occasion.

"What are you thinking about?" Heartthrob asked as they swayed together. His hands had moved up slightly, on the small of Grim Reaper's back.

He was cradling him. Like Grim Reaper was something—someone—so precious to him.

Grim Reaper replied immediately, "I'm thinking about you."

And he immediately bit his tongue to stop himself from saying more.

He was always too blunt, too honest. He didn't know how to lie, unless it was to save someone's life. Whenever he had to lie to get someone out of a bad situation, it was like a switch flipped in his brain and he could lie. Other times, he was just too honest, saying such vulnerable things.

Which was why he had to be quiet more often. People often didn't like what he said anyways.

Heartthrob seemed amused though, a laugh bubbling up from his chest and escaping from his lips. His brown eyes seemed to sparkle more as a smile Grim Reaper wasn't sure ever left his face came back. "What about me are you thinking about?"

Instead of replying, Grim Reaper just gave him a blank look, which seemed to amuse Heartthrob even more. So much so that he took advantage of Grim Reaper's sheepishness and grabbed one of his gloved hands, twirling Grim Reaper.

It was like the breath left Grim Reaper, a sense of fleeting freedom washed over as he twirled. What was this feeling blooming in his chest, the twitching in his lips?

"You're glowing," Heartthrob murmured, his voice soft like he was in awe as he brought Grim Reaper back into his hold, pulling the other man against his chest. "You like the twirl, hm? I'll keep that in mind."

Grim Reaper's eyebrows furrowed. "I don't what you're talking about."

And he really didn't. He didn't know what emotion he was feeling, why he was even feeling anything.

Shouldn't he be emotionless? His father trained him to be an emotionless soldier, to be molded into whatever the Marine Corps wanted him to be. So what was this foreign emotion that he was feeling?

Heartthrob chuckled. "You looked like you were about to smile," he explained softly, unbothered at having to explain emotions to Grim Reaper. "Your eyes were bright, you looked happy. It's like the world gets so much brighter and you feel like nothing can dim the warmth you feel. Does that sound similar to what you felt?"

"I... I don't know," Grim Reaper admitted, wincing at his own words. He waited with abated breath, waiting for the inevitable scoff and disbelief that he didn't understand what happiness was or what emotion he was feeling.

"That's okay," Heartthrob instead responded with, one of his hands lifting upwards and gently guiding Grim Reaper's head towards his shoulder. "We'll take it one day at a time, help you learn your emotions, together."

Grim Reaper melted in Heartthrob's arms. "You promise?" he asked.

Heartthrob smiled down at Grim Reaper. "I promise, and perhaps we can also see about you giving yourself your own name." His hand was still on the back of Grim Reaper's hair, his fingers gently carding through the black strands.

"I like the name Vikram."

"Vikram, what a beautiful name. I promise, Vikram, I'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen (Part 4)

Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Reader

Summary: Following your conversation with Alicent, the Dowager Queen comes up with an idea. You celebrate Baisakhi with the Prince and his mother, but he never speaks.

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

“Aemond,” His mother called, her big brown eyes floating with anticipation. Her voice was confident as usual, but it held some hesitance. They had been invited to the Bharatiya camp establishment to celebrate one of their major festivals: the festival to celebrate the winter harvest. Did she not want to go?

“Yes, Mother?” Aemond replied, softening his gaze to look at her, hoping that it would help her get over the hesitance. He loved his mother dearly and would do anything to keep her happy and respected. If something made her uncomfortable, he would sort it out.

“I spoke with Princess Y/N yesterday,” She started, fidgeting with her fingers, an action not going unnoticed by her second son. “She certainly has eloquence,”

“I do think she is clever,” He agreed, seeing Alicent lose some of the tension, exhaling.

“And I have noticed you spending a better part of your days in the Bharatiya camp,” Alicent said, a suggestive smile on her face, as her brown eyes gleamed. “Has the princess piqued your interest, my child?”

“I was merely trying to understand her motive, Mother,” Aemond said, unable to fight the heat rising up his neck and ears. “Testing the waters, as they say.”

“And what did your observation conclude, my dear?” She asked, genuinely curious about his thoughts. He knew that she valued his opinions, so he didn’t hold back.

“An alliance with them will help us substantially.” He replied, leaving out the spies' words. “The people already claim Aegon as their rightful king, and with Bharat by our side we could become unstoppable. They have technology never before seen in Westeros or Essos, and some of their weapons can cleanly cut through rock.”

“Do you respect Princess Y/N?” Alicent asked, the question turning the atmosphere sombre. The corners of her eyes were filled with tears she didn’t let spill. “Can you learn to care about her?”

“I do respect the Princess, Mother.” He truthfully admitted. “I think I can learn to care, even if I don’t - I would never humiliate her.” I wouldn’t treat her like King Viserys treated you. I would fulfil my duty.

“Very well then,” Alicent said. “I think it would be ideal if I offered her your hand in marriage. Would you accept that, Aemond?”

“I am not against it,” Aemond responded, thinking back to Haelena’s prophecy. He understood that you were of significant importance in his sister’s dreams, uncertain of how this was related. “But I do have a question for you, mother. Why would you say this now?”

“Y/N said that her alliance was with Aegon, and not Westeros.” She answered. “And Haelena liked spending time with her, that would seem she is non-threatening - at least to us. Now, if you don’t have any other suitors in mind, I would like to proceed with the proposition. Okay?”

.

It was the day of Baisakhi, and your whole camp was celebrating. Bands performed, people danced with their agriculture tools to celebrate the harvest back home. Prince Aemond, Dowager Queen Alicent and her shield, Ser Criston Cole, had graced the festivities with their presence, Alicent being the only one to show enjoyment. And though Prince Aemond held his usual cold face, you could see his one eye open wide, drinking in all the information that he could. A ghost of a smirk had dusted his sharp face, which you felt was equivalent to hysteria coming from him.

Alicent stood up and clapped, enjoying the performances. “Such charming festivities,” she commented. “I am grateful that you let us be a part of this, Princess.” 

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Your Highness.” You replied. Alicent was dressed in a beautiful green gown seemingly made from the silk you had presented her, and it warmed your heart to see her adorning the fabric so gracefully. Aemond had the wootz blade strapped to his hip, along with the dagger you had presented to him. It brought you joy to see him utilising your presents, and he had dressed in a dark green instead of black for a change. 

“I would appreciate it if you would accept our presents,” Alicent softly said, holding your arm. “It might not be as thoughtful as your presents to us, but I do hope that you would like it.”

She handed you a rectangular jewellery box, and you began to thank her, as you accepted the present. You could feel the burn of Aemond’s gaze as you opened the box to reveal a gold necklace with a big sapphire embedded in the central pendant, and smaller ruby pieces embedded in the others. This was a piece unlike any you had seen before - a true Westerosi fashion.

“I have never seen anything like this before, Your Highness.” You truthfully said. “It is magnificent.”

“It is only a small present,” Alicent said. “I would like to speak to you later and alone, Your Highness, once the festivities are over.”

You agreed, the back of your mind thinking of the possible reasons as to why she wanted to speak with you alone, as you kept your eyes on the celebrations. Lassi and buttermilk was offered to you and your esteemed guests as you rose to thank the Devtas for the good harvest back home and the blooming trade in Westeros. Your people recited the prayers after you and then the whole crowd burst into dancing and singing - some of them off key albeit filled with joy.

“Being here makes me forget my woes,” Alicent sighed. “Your people seem closely knit, Princess Y/N.”

“I can’t say for the entirety of Bharat, but this group is certainly close.” You said. “We spent a month journeying the sea to travel to an unknown land, that type of uncertainty and fear makes friends out of foes - and these people were already acquaintances, your highness.”

“Of course,” She politely nodded. “I would love to mingle with this crowd, Princess - with your permission, of course.”

“We can mingle,” You said, smiling at her. “You wanted to speak with me?”

You were now in your ‘home’ sitting in front of the Dowager Queen Alicent, intently taking in her impeccable appearance. Her mane of brown hair had been pinned back, and her fingers interlaced as her hands sat on her knee. 

She was silent for a long moment, gathering her thoughts before speaking up, “You said you were loyal to my son, the King.” Alicent lifted her gaze, her big brown eyes keen. “While I do trust your word - I would appreciate it if the alliance had a… pact,”

“Are you hinting at marriage, my Queen?” you prompted.

“Precisely.” She said, still as a statue. “I would love it if you agree to marry my second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

“Well…” You said, rubbing your palms together. “I can’t promise anything until my parents agree. And Bharat is far away.”

“We have dragons, Princess Y/N,” Alicent had now perked up, eyes gleaming with hope. “I suppose the journey that took your ship a month on the sea would barely take a week on a dragon.”

“A week of continuous flight on a dragon's back seems a bit… irrational, your Highness.” you said. “We didn’t encounter any landmass on our way here, except a massive desert, full of hostile tribes.”

“Such a hasty wedding would not be deemed acceptable in Bharat, your Highness.” you explained. “We have very… elaborate weddings. They would only agree to…” you trailed off, thinking of the english word for roka. “I am unable to recall the exact term that you use, but it’s when you have been promised to someone but you are not married yet. We call it roka in hindi. It’s the first of many wedding ceremonies.”

“Betrothal,” Alicent supplied. “That would be great too, your Highness. As for the travel, I am sure my son Aemond would be able to plan everything.”

“I shall go with him,” You said. “There is no saying that my soldiers wouldn’t shoot a foreign dragon. And I have heard that Vhagar is the biggest dragon there is.”

“That would be apt, your Highness.” Alicent agreed. Her gaze softened and she leaned closer, “Would you be able to care for my son? Can you respect him?”

“He is a great fighter and a clever man,” You said. “How can I not respect him? As for caring about him, I care for my family even though I hate some of them… and Prince Aemond has not done anything to get such vile emotions from me.” you explained, sighing. “I think I can care for him, even if he is not my husband, I will care for him as the King’s brother, his right hand man.”

“You have a gentle heart, My Lady.” Alicent said. “None have been able to speak such kind words for my son - they can’t look past his missing eye.”

“I think it adds to his charm,” you simply said, as if stating a fact.

“You are too kind,” She repeated, holding your arm. “I do hope you will be able to join us for the feast tonight. I would like you to get acquainted with Aemond before you make your decisions.”

“I will be there,” you promised.

Your words seemingly lifted a heavy weight off her shoulders, how she had lost like five years as she eased her tense muscles. Your mind was clouded with thoughts as you absently twirled a strand of dark hair in your finger. What would a marriage with the Targaryen Prince be like? He didn’t speak much, and he was hard to read; did he hide some dark secrets? And why had this marriage proposal been ensued now? Had something changed between the night and this morning?

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Tags: (i was so tired last night, so I forgot the tags oof)

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