#Your faith / is strong / but I can only fall short for so long

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sweet pleasures (Part 1)

Summary: You accidentally capture the attention of Lucius the Eternal while your world dies under the oppression of heretics

Lucius The Eternal/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession possessive behavior, manipulation, intimidation, kidnapping, dubious consent, body horror

Word count: 2421

Song: The Sisters of Mercy - More

Good luck, guys. I tried very hard while writing all these horrors and erotica.

You're scared. You're very scared. It was unusual. Wrong. No. No. No. You always knew how to find a way out of any situation. Could always adapt to circumstances. Wear almost any mask. Anyone could like you. Well, apparently this last skill failed you.

You were born on one of the many Imperial Worlds. One of many hive worlds. Аather was a worker, mother a laundress. Joyless life at the middle levels. And a beautiful daughter. Only the daughter turned out to be strange. Behaved differently, thought otherwise.

You didn't want to live so poorly. So that your already short life passes unnoticed. But you didn’t intend to zealously serve the Emperor as a Sister of Battle. No, it was foreign to you. You weren't going to fight. Besides, you didn't have much faith in the Emperor. Of course you prayed and did not say heretical thoughts out loud. But what can you do?

You were quite beautiful. And healthy for your status. Could make friends with many people. Even the gloomiest arbitrators were touched by the sight of you when you were a child. You could become a courtesan. And then could become the concubine of a rich aristocrat. But such a role did not appeal to you either. Quite the contrary. Scared you away.

At some point you found yourself at one of the ports. Spent almost the whole week there. Due to fatigue at work, your parents did not notice your long absence. And at this time you were learning to read. Learned the jargon of smugglers and honest traders. Looked at the maps and kept an eye on the Mechanicum. Occasionally, on the sly. And sometimes openly.

They offered to take you with you. Show all these amazing worlds, but you knew it was a trap. But staying in your parents’ house was also a trap. No matter how you look at it, an honest life did not give anything, but only took away. That's why you started lying.

And you were good at it.

Who have you been in your short life? No actress can compare with your talent. You learned to play the organ. A couple of times pretended to be a nun to look at the holy relics. Made your way into the palace of the aristocrats as one of the maids of honor. They believed you easily. You even thought that you might have been born a psyker. But no, the Black Ship did not come for you.

A couple of times you even followed the mutants hiding in the bowels of the city. Maybe you are one of them? You felt pity for these creatures. They were different from people in appearance, but they were still humans. But they were disgusting to everyone. And you were loved.

You continued to ingratiate yourself with the arbitrators. The hands of the law, of course, could not refuse a lady in trouble and allowed you a lot. And you attended evenings with the nobility. You saw how it was possible to live. You ate and drank things you could never afford as a laundress. You were free and happy.

And you wanted to try so much. Feel it. And at some point you realized that you wanted to leave your world. You wanted to see the whole Imperium. To taste everything. You were ready.

And then Chaos came.

***

The resistance to the heretics did not last even a week. They were too strong. As you later found out, this was not just one band of space marines. There were several of them. Apparently the heretics pursued a new goal after the fall of Cadia. And your planet has become just an obstacle on the way, which can be turned... into entertainment.

You're probably lucky that you didn't meet any fanatics of Nurgle or Tzeentch. The Khornites would simply crush you. Only now you find that your part of the city was captured by the Slaaneshists... Hedonists and debauchees. Admirers of torture and lovers of using human flesh as a drug.

You tried to hide from them. Used every opportunity. The survivors looked at you and couldn’t help but share their shelter with you. they were so kind. You felt a shame. You were a liar but not an evil woman. In the end, you left this family hiding in the bowels of the city and took to the streets. You hoped to find a new shelter.

And in the end you encountered mortal cultists who were looking for city residents to make offerings to their masters. They rejoiced when they captured you. They mockingly consoled you. Caressed. But nothing more. They said that their lord should receive a whole and untouched toy.

At that moment, for the first time in your life, you felt helpless.

***

You fully appreciated the perversity of the Emperor's Children when you saw the main hall of one of the richest aristocrats. The golden and white walls were covered with pieces of human flesh. The heads of the statues were cut off and human heads were placed in their place. Men, women. Even children. Liters of blood flowed down the walls and floor. It was impossible to stay clean in this mess.

The center of the hall was filled with bodies. Alive and dead. Their bodies were joined in a brutal orgy. Although this word only narrowed down all the horror that was happening in this place. Men and women, young and old, mated like animals. They cut each other and themselves. They devoured human flesh, blood and even excrement. They sang, no, they shouted, drawn-out melodies. Mortals are mired in the ritual of the heretics, unable to resist.

And you could have ended up there... if you had not looked at the warrior who grabbed you with pitiful eyes. He liked your look. Stroking your head, he said that such a beauty should not die so early. Although you saw that among this mass there were also noblewomen who were much more beautiful and healthier than you. You definetly was a rare mutant.

And luckily for you, it was even easier for you to please the heretics. You didn't even have to try. Didn’t have to learn anything new, make an effort or try to understand the other person. No, they just liked your defenseless and vulnerable look. Something fragile that can be broken. Perverts.

You try not to shake so as not to drop the tray. You have been registered as a “servant”. You and several other slaves stood against the right wall, holding a tray with various dishes. Someone had drugs created from the tears of prisoners. Someone's got guts. You are lucky, on your tray there are fresh berries from the aristocrat's reserves.

The food was not intended for ordinary traitorous Space Marines, much less mortal cultists. They were having fun on the lower levels of the palace. No, you had to serve the gang leaders, who sat on pillows made of human skin. You looked at them sometimes, unable to contain your curiosity. But how you wanted to erase their image from your memory.

On the left side was a Space Marine, hairless and with incredibly bottomless black eyes. The mouth stretched out, more like a lattice. He slowly stroked his weapon, enjoying the “music” of the slaves. Next to him sat a half-man, half-bull. The huge armor was strewn with the skulls of defeated enemies. The Space Marine was talking with the main leader, lazily playing with the dissected brains of a slave with one hand...

The unfortunate man had just recently presented them with wine. The rest of the servants usually went back to their places to get a new tray. But apparently the space marines did not like the wine. Or, on the contrary, they appreciated it, and the heretic simply became bored. You couldn’t know the exact answer and it made you shiver.

On the right side lay an incredibly handsome man in pearl armor. Amber hair framed a pale, bored face without a single scar. The man was much more interested in sorting through his test tubes with the brightly colored substance. And given the rumors, you didn't want to know what was inside. A space marine with a gold-plated mask stood at a distance, keeping an eye on the orgy in the center. It was this sorcerer who was responsible for the ritual.

Well, in the center sat the leader of this gang. One of the slaves even recognized his name. Lucius the Eternal.

He was disgusting. His entire face, which looked more like a piece of raw meat, was covered with scars. Three flasks with a narcotic substance were attached to the space marine’s suit, which flowed directly through the tubes into the heretic’s flesh. The clawed teeth smiled as Lucius whispered to the bull, holding a glass of wine in his left hand. A daemonic sword rested nearby.

“They want sweets” - a servant approaches you and you flinch in surprise. The slave's eyes are empty and yet he looks straight into your soul. - “Bring them berries.”

Now it’s your turn. You inhale through your nostrils and slowly walk towards the Space Marines. You feel the other servants looking at you with pity. Soon you come to the heretics. The man in pearl armor and the heretic in a golden mask pay no attention to you. So you approach Lucius and his friend.

The man glances at you quickly... and freezes. Violet eyes shamelessly scan your body, especially looking at your face. Lucius takes a deep breath and you realize that he is trying to recognize your scent. A low laugh comes from his throat.

“Oh, I asked for something sweet,” the man runs his tongue over his teeth and you wince at how long it is. - “But I was expecting food, not a pretty face.”

You purse your lips and pick up the tray.

“I-I brought berries,” you babble before squealing in surprise as one of the arms grabs you. You can barely hold the tray of food in your hands, finding yourself next to Lucius. Your surprised gaze meets his mocking one.

“And the voice is sonorous.” - the man laughs to half-bull, hugging your body to himself. His hungry eyes linger on your parted lips. - “So you brought berries, sugar? Then feed me.”

You gulp at the slaaneshist's strange behavior, but comply. You take a bunch of grapes and bring one berry to the Space Marine’s mouth. Trying your best to focus on his ugly face and his hand on your waist. Ignoring the blood-sticky leather pillows and armor of your tormentor. Bloody, covered with faces frozen in agony.

The heretic opens his mouth and bites half of the berry, splashing the juice over your hand. The man moans and you tremble from his rough voice. But the worst thing is when he starts licking the juice from your palm. Extremely slowly and carefully. You've heard that, in addition to regular saliva, Space Marines also have poisonous saliva that can be used in battle. It's surprising he hasn't used it...at least not yet.

“I love the taste of your sweat, sugar.” - the man chatters his teeth in your face, but obediently eats another grape. - “And who were you before we captured your wretched planet? Hardly one of these poor things.” - the traitor lazily shakes his head towards the hall. - “We let all noble women in for the ritual. Well, some passed for new decor.”

The bull grins. He had already managed to eat half the brains of the slave, who somehow miraculously survived. The prisoner's eyes looked at you pleadingly with tears. They asked to be relieved of pain and suffering. But you couldn't. You need to take care of yourself.

“I-” - you try to squeeze out a word, but freeze mid-sentence. Who were you? What have you done useful in this life? Catching Lucius’ furrowed eyebrows, you begin to babble desperately. - “I-I don’t know. My mother is a laundress, and my father is a factory worker. I studied history at the academy and played the organ a little for the nobility. Pretended to be an official, keeping an eye on the cultists. D-dressed like a nun for fun. I tried all the jobs which I liked. Am I...am I a tramp?”

You are asking either yourself or Lucius. As if he knows who you are and what your destiny is. The man looks at you with an unblinking gaze before laughing madly. You look at him blankly, with a terrible feeling of foreboding, feeling his hand drop from your waist to your thigh.

“How funny you are, sugar! Such a rare thing. Instead of washing clothes, you decided to try everything at once. I see you don’t like living according to the laws of the Corpse Emperor at all, huh?” - you nod with displeasure, noting to yourself the bitterness of the truth. No you do not like it. Lucius sees this. - “Yes, you crave pleasure. And you can’t get enough of trying on more and more new roles. My mortal slaves with their little enjoyments are not worth your finger.”

The traitor buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent. You thought it was so easy for you to please a mortal heretic. But the Space Marine almost melted next to you. This was your salvation. And a curse.

“I'll take you with me.” - Lucius purrs, licking your neck. You feel his fingers begin to caress the inside of your thigh. Your legs tighten, some of the berries fall from the tray onto the pillows. This only makes the man laugh. - “You will see agony. Ecstasy. More."

You shrink into his hugs and caresses, unable to resist. Fear takes over your body. Lucius' fingers gently stroke your sex through your clothes and you can't hold back your shameful quiet moan. The man almost giggles like a young boy. The rest of the space marines don't pay attention to you two except the bull. He breathes loudly and shamelessly, carefully following The Eternal’s antics. Tears blur your eyes. What a humiliation.

A cacophony of cries of martyrs, clutching each other in pain and pleasure, can be heard throughout the hall. You see how their naked flexible bodies merge with each other and twist like a spiral. Many find themselves buried under the flesh, while others scream madly, unable to get out of the trap. You feel like they are looking at you.

You fall into darkness.

[corviiids]

hi rook sorrgy I'm back but I've been thinking about your akeshu as girls genderfuckery tweet for 20 million years. idk if you can share anything in good faith here on the Tumblr corner of the internet (if not then by all means ignore this) but if you did I'd owe you perhaps my entire soul!! thank you very much either way :3

i would LOVE to talk about this thank you so much for asking

[under the cut in case anyone would not like to see genderfuckery stuff]

okay so first of all.

on the topic of boobs

this is important to lead with do you understand. most of the akeshu as girls stuff ive seen around has akc as flat-chested and ren as boobed. and that's valid i support that. but personally. personally to me. i think it's the opposite. tbe reason (well one reason) i think it's the opposite is because i think girlren is a little rat of a creature and akechi who is prim and feminine and perfect is so FUCKING angry about her crush on ren like she's barely surviving it and then this is the nail in the coffin. she's like why can't i stop thinking about that messy unassuming thing. she doesn't even have boobs

my other reasons for tihs are that i think joker is more androgynous charm while akechi is more feminine/masculine duality i think this makes sense to nobody else. i think ren regardless of agab is riding the rail of the gender spectrum 🛹 while akc is collecting extremes of gender presentation like they're pokemon do you understand. are we on the same page here. ren being into drag is important to me for this reason (again regardless of agab). meanwhile akechi having very clear feminine secondary sex characteristics but presenting gradually more and more masculine in terms of clothing/hair/personal style etc. is also extremely important to me. and that includes being biog of tity while her style veers more and more into masc as time goes on

ok

the detective prince

i think girl akechi (at 17-18) presents very femininely because it's what's effective for her. i would call her style................... kawaii corporate chic. does that make sense for everyone. it's like schoolgirl girlboss. she has a bow instead of a tie but it's a very classy one not a kitschy one. smart blazer, uniform pleated skirt, patent leather shoes, u know the drill BUT. people still call her the detective prince. this is VERY IMPORTANT to me. no detective princess. only detective prince. do you understand the importance of the genderfuckery of a super feminine girl being called by masculine terms. to me. we're continuing the legacy set by my hero naoto shirogane bigender queeng. bigender kin. bigender genderneutral non-monarchical ruler

i think by third sem girl akechi is starting to dress more androgynously/masculinely. more pants. i think her third sem outfit is unchanged from canon. just a smart coat, sweater, buttondown, slacks. postcanon she gets a haircut.

just trying to live an honest student life

ren is like so fundamentallyuncomfortable with the fact of his existence at the beginning of canon so to me girlren is like... she dresses like she's trying to hide in her clothes. messy hair. i have no strong feelings about whetehr her hair should be long or short, or whether it's loose or pulled into a tail, but i know it's messsy. untamed curls. and she uses it to hide her face. none of her clothes fit. she's in oversized everything. i have a very clear image in my head of a ren idle animation where she leans down to pull up her leggings because they keep falling down. she also has terrible posture. she's androgynous at this stage not on purpose but because she's too self conscious to like... exist... and present... in any notable way at all

i think as she gets more confident and as the year progresses she starts to dress more distinctively. i like the idea of her getting more comfortable prettying up. maybe working at crossroads helps her with this 🤔 i dont know how to explain this but i think she's still feminine in a gentlemanly chivalrous way rather than a girly cute way. girlren has that same steady calming vibe that guy ren does

joker & crow

crow has a magical girl skirt. i have a drawing of this but im too self conscious about my own lack of drawing skill to show it off so i cropped out the key part and put it into an ms paint void in the distance as my visual aid

there. i hope this is illustrative

i think given girl akechi's use of her feminine charms to gain popularity, her hero complex would be similarly gendered given we have confirmation that robin hood represents not (only) heroics for altruistic reasons but also the theatre of being seen doing good. there's a real drama element to the idea of a magical girl transformation that i honestly wish we got for male crow too. i always am depressed that we don't get to see much theatre for akechi's initial appearance as crow and summoning of robin hood, anyway, girlcrow has ribbons and a capelet that flap in non-existent wind.

black mask's outfit is unchanged from canon. i'd like it to look a little less stupid but that has nothing to do with gender i just want it to look a little less stupid.

joker's outfit is also unchanged from canon. listen. im back on my bullshit. in the metaverse her behaviour gets more feminine and more sly and confident than in reality. she's got that femme fatale shit going on. however, she is still a gentleman thief. she has the long coat. she has the poofy trousers. she has the waistcoat. she's still smirking and fixing her gloves and flipping her knife and doing that thing that canon ren does where he lifts his chin and does the little "come on" thing with her fingers. do you understand? do you understand me

[astronicht]

re: Mordor's location

I'm confused! I can understand being annoyed that Mordor is in the east (for me, it's because any new birth/new beginnings symbolism fails. BUT on the other hand, it works great with tolkien's biblical stuff - from study.com, "'East of Eden' is an allusion to the Biblical Book of Genesis. After Cain murders his brother Abel, he is exiled to the land of Nod, 'east of Eden' (Genesis 4:16)". I LOVE Tolkien's biblical symbolism, and smeagol murdering his brother is a direct cain/abel reference, so having the evil be to the east really works for me.

So I guess I'm just wondering if a) the symbolism thing is what irritates you about Mordor's location (or if there's something else I'm missing), and b) how does the evil being in the north resolve this?

Hey cool question!

Caveat that I’m literally just liveblogging my first ever read of LOTR, so while I read Hobbit as a kid and I know the movies and a good portion of the medieval prose and poetry Tolkien is drawing on very well, the only LOTR text I can reference is… from the Shire to Weathertop. Additionally, my perspective is as a medievalist, but I wasn't raised Christian and can’t speak to Tolkien’s personal faith, just to how he might use (and does use) historical Christianity (and a bunch of non-Christian narratives) in his work. At least like. Up to Weathertop.

Short answer a) not exactly! b) Because I expected evil to be in the north, and it checked that box. So-- your particular interest in Christian symbolism is immediately relevant here, because about 700 years before the King James Bible, in the medieval literature (and medieval Christianity) among which Tolkien has settled his own Middle-Earth, people had very very strong feelings about the cardinal directions, and North was heavily associated with Lucifer — this being stated explicitly in an Old English retelling of Genesis called The Old English Hexameron. Here, Lucifer's fall starts like this:

"with a presumptuous pride (moodiness) he said that he would make his throne above the stars of God, over the height of the clouds, in the north part, and be like unto God." (p. 17; not my translation but my guy Henry Wilkins Norman nailed it)

mid dyrstigre modignysse cwæð ðæt he wolde wyrcan his cynesetl bufan Godes tunglum ofer ðæra wolcna heannysse on ðam norð dæle and beon Gode gelic. (p. 16)

In non-Christian stories (though written down centuries later by Christians), the Gylfaginning in the Prose Edda describes Hel as “down and to the North” (sorry, just a link wiki here). So, same idea, and beyond these texts, North is generally associated with hell, death, or evil in early medieval literature, much more clearly than East usually is (even factoring in Old English and Old Norse stories about Cain, Attila the Hun, and the more exciting fauna of the Indian subcontinent, all of which formed the early medieval idea of East). Thus, finding out that an original Big Bad, of whom Sauron was “but a servant,” had once made his throne in the north made me go “OH! He didn’t forget after all!” in utter frustrated delight. My confusion wasn't exactly with evil in the east; it was the lack of evil in the north.

(this reply is really long, but my main point ends here, for anyone looking to bail out)

Actually, Genesis retellings in Old English are absolutely fascinating; I’m not wedded to Christian-only symbolism, but if it’s what you enjoy a lot, I very much suggest looking into the Hexameron and Genesis A, both great examples and very well known to Tolkien.

Personally I suspect I'll end up reading the symbolism of Mordor in the east as a more complex and varied thing than solely a reference to Cain's banishment. But to be really clear, in saying that I'm definitely not saying that Cain and Nod aren't valid interpretations (especially when they work for you so well!). Just my guess and my perspective. Old evil in the north and Mordor in the east is really interesting! So was the story of how Hobbits etc wandered out of the east to colonize the Shire, in another early medieval echo. And with Aragorn's throwaway "In those days the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was but a servant, dwelt in Angband in the North" I got an extra point on the map, from which the story immediately unspooled into an even wider and richer thing. Which is so neat, I love everyone in this bar, etc.

Just a quick further note on Smeagol, because I happen to have just gone past this bit and it's fresh! As far as I know at uhhh this very early point in LOTR (maybe it's changed later), Deagol was not his brother but simply his friend: “He had a friend called Deagol, of a similar sort, sharper-eyed but not so quick and strong” (though if you like the Cain and Abel imagery, this doesn't change that much tbh! I can see how it hits that note regardless). They are under the same matriarch (perhaps implying family ties) who eventually throws Smeagol out years after Deagol's murder; I liked that bit, bc I have no idea where Tolkien's pulling proto-hobbit matriarchs from yet, and Smeagol later lied and said the matriarch had given him the One Ring, implying that she was a ring-giver like an Old English/Norse thane or king. Smeagol and Deagol (and Frodo) are also wrapped up in lots of different tropes and symbols; Cain and Abel, yes, but also Beowulf and Grendel, and probably some other stuff I'll notice in like 10 years and yell at the ghost of Tolkien about. I think these stories work so well because they’re layers upon layers. It’s stories all the way down, you know!

Much like this reply, which is endless, so sorry about that.

[dreamonseems]

Líf

Don't mess with my wife

- Ok this is my first Ubbe fanfic it's short but kinda cute lol 😅

- I'm going to make this a series of one-shot stories, about Ubbe, his reader wife, and their children. Every story will be different but within the same universe. Nothing will be in order just random stories about their lives.

Summary: Girl flirts with Ubbe. He warns her he's married, and his wife doesn't like other people trying to take what's hers.

Ubbe and his brothers were on a hunting trip, their pray led them to a nearby village. They decided to stay there for the night.

As they were talking to some of the farmers from the village. A young woman, approached them with some water for them to drink. Her father one of the farmers asked her to fetch it for them.

The woman was beautiful, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Ubbe's brother's eyes were all on her. Hvitserk the horny man that he is even tried his best to approach the young lady. Later that night while they were out by the fire. but she plain out refused him. As his brothers laughed at his attempt.

No one noticed but her eyes lay elsewhere. The minute the sons of Ragnar step foot in the village. She only noticed Ubbe she thought he was so handsome, especially his eyes. Deep bright blue eyes gave her shivers when she looked into them.

She heard him talking about his wife to his brothers. She didn't care so many men she knows sleep with other women why would he turn her down?

So the young lady approached Ubbe with a coy smile and began to flirt with him.

At first, Ubbe was taken aback by her advances. He had always been faithful to his wife and had no interest in this stranger. But the woman persisted, and soon, Ubbe began to feel uncomfortable. Finally, he turned to her and said,

"I appreciate your interest, but I am a married man. My heart belongs to my wife, Y/N. She is my soul mate and the love of my life."

The woman looked disappointed, how could he turn her down she has never experienced this before. Man fall to her feet. but Ubbe continued, "And let me tell you something. My wife is not someone to mess with. She used to be a great shieldmaiden, and she can handle herself in a fight. So you need to watch your step."

With that, Ubbe turned and walked away, leaving the young woman behind.

The next morning they made their way back to Kattegat, he couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have Y/N by his side. She was his partner in every sense of the word, and he knew that he would never betray her trust.

When he returned home, he told Y/N about the encounter with the young woman. She listened with a small smile on her face, knowing that her husband was truly devoted to her.

Together, they laughed about the young woman's audacity, and Y/N joked, "She wouldn't stand a chance against me anyway."

Ubbe smiled and pulled her close, grateful for the strong, fierce, and loving woman he had by his side. He knew that they were truly blessed to have found each other in this life, and he vowed to always protect their love, no matter what challenges they might face.

[dingusfreakhxrrington]

Hi! If I ask you, can you write a shot about Halbrand?

Reader is the daughter of Gil Galad and Sauron seduces her with his beautiful words, but then Galadriel discovers Halbrand's true identity and he becomes all dark, claiming reader and taking her with him to Mordor.

Maybe with different POVs?

🐈🧝‍♀️👍

The End of All Things

pairing: halbrand/sauron x fem!reader

summary: when great deceptions come into light, the noldor princess must choose her side.

warnings: elf!reader, betrayal, toxic relationship, mentions of violence, mentions of war, mentions of death, mentions of imprisonment, angst

word count: 1.7k

a/n: thank you for this request! i had a lot of fun writing this 🤍

read on ao3

friendly reminder that comments and reblogs are just as (if not more than) important as likes!

The daughter of Gil Galad by the Dark Lord’s side? None would have ever foreseen it, not even the princess herself.

You had met him when he first came to your cities. A man — a king — wounded in battle. A battle he had fought alongside none other than Galadriel, the commander of the northern armies.

She bought him to the Elves knowing that only their medicine could save him. She trusted him and took him into her ranks. Not only as the king of the Southlands but also as a friend.

Even she had not foreseen his deceit.

When he first arrived, you were soon by his side. A Noldor princess who had been studying medicine alongside the art of war. Trained a warrior but peaceful and kind by nature.

You wanted to tend to him personally, seeing as he was such a close friend to Galadriel. She must have had much trust in him to bring an outsider to her home — to your home. Healing him was an important task and even your father knew no one else was better suited to the task.

That was how you came to know him. Over the days he spent undergoing treatment you had learnt much about the new king of men.

For instance, he liked to make snarky jokes to hide how he was truly feeling. If he was ever in pain, another snide remark would fall from his lips followed by a deep chuckle as he tried to convince even himself that he was alright. You always saw through the façade.

Then, there was his charisma. Words like honey adorned by a handsome smirk every time the two of you spoke. Confident flirts danced across his poisonous tongue and soon began to puppet the strings of your heart.

It wasn’t long before you started to fall.

Before long he was up and about again, walking around despite the pain that still lingered from his wounds. By then, he already had you. Heart and soul.

He got along with the smiths soon enough, helping them with tips and pointers as they tried to uncover the secrets of mithril.

It was only then that Galadriel began to doubt his motives. She had brought him to Middle Earth with her, after all. He had protested her at every turn, wishing to be left alone to his own devices. She had even been the one to make him a king.

In her blind faith, your own arose. You had little reason to doubt the man who had arrived alongside Galadriel, her guest, and even then he had managed to captivate you in ways you could not describe.

In such a short amount of time, he filled your heart and became everything to you. He was your sun at dusk, your moon at dawn. He was the very stars that flickered in your eyes. All you wished for in this world was to be with him, to live out your days by his side.

It was foolish of you to want for a man, one who would lead a mortal life and grow old far before you. Then again, perhaps a part of you had always known there was something more to him — something strong, something powerful.

He was no mere man. He was one of the Maiar, perhaps the strongest of their kind, and the most destructive.

His web of lies knew no bounds, sprawling and twining until it was so thick you could barely glimpse the deep, dark fire behind it.

His name was not Halbrand, nor was he the rightful king of the Southlands. He was no friend to the elves and he did not love you the way you loved him, no matter how many times he proclaimed it. At least, you knew there was a slim chance of it.

When Galadriel had come to you with her concerns you had dismissed her. It wasn’t because you did not believe her but rather because you did not want to. You were conflicted, fighting an internal battle with yourself as you went over it again and again in your head.

The Southlands did not have an heir. Halbrand was not who he said he was. Galadriel had been wrong about him, you all had.

You knew where she had gone, knew she would have left you only to confront him herself.

By the time you arrived, it was already too late. She had a dagger to his throat and there was this look in his eyes… a darkness you had never seen in them before.

They fought but she stood no chance. She was not prepared to face him, not physically or mentally. His tricks and illusions — whatever he was showing her — it was too much. You saw a tear run down her cheek before she snapped out of the trance and lunged at him again, fury like dragons breath in her eyes.

In but a moment she was on the ground, knocked out cold from the harsh impact of her head against the rocky ground below.

Only then did he look at you and, as if their fight had not transpired at all, he returned to the façade he named Halbrand.

“Princess…” He held his hand out to you as he moved closer. You only moved back so he spoke again, “Please, y/n.”

“Y-you’re him… Sauron.”

His eyes grew icy once again, the darkness within him taking hold and, before you knew what was happening, it was as if all of time had become still.

You were not sure how long you were trapped inside your own mind, living through what he wanted you to see. The conversations you had once had together repeating themselves over and over again, changing slightly each time — moulding into a sick distortion of what you remembered.

Once you could no longer bear it anymore, you started to dream of things that had not yet happened. You dreamt of facing him on the battlefield, plunging your sword through him to save the people you loved.

You killed him over and over again until you could kill him no more.

All the while, he had been on the move, travelling across Middle Earth with your spelled body. You were trapped in a prison of his own making and, although such a thing would have been a feat for any other sorcerer, he kept you under without so much as breaking a sweat.

By the time your eyes finally opened again, you were far from your home.

It was not a cell but rather a home. One normal in all but its own nature. You recognised it, the building and furniture mimicking what you had seen in the Southlands.

Impossible, you thought for the Southlands were nothing but ash now. Yet, here you were and, when you looked through the window, there they were. The Southlands, greener than ever before with hills and fields and farms and life. So much life…

Then, the door opened and you caught a glimpse of the harsh reality behind him before he closed the door tight, as if to seal it from the darkness that resided outside.

“This is not real.”

He simply smiled, almost elegant in nature as he came further into the room. “It is as real as you and I.”

“You did this… All of it.”

His features remained soft as he spoke. “I did none of it. Galadriel is the one who found me and pulled me back to Middle Earth. I did not want this, I wished to be left alone.”

“In the Sundering Seas? Where were you going if you were not to return to Middle Earth?”

He sighed. All he wished for was to get through to you, for you to understand.

“I wanted forgiveness. I wanted to make amends for what I have done. I wanted to change.”

You scoffed, “To change? You will never change. You could have said no, you did not have to follow Galadriel. She put you exactly where you wanted to be. A king, a ruler, a deceiver.”

“I never meant to deceive you. I never meant to deceive anyone. You must believe me, I truly wanted to help.”

More than anything, you wanted to believe him, but you already knew what path he had chosen.

“And now?”

“I do not believe Galadriel and I crossed paths by coincidence. Fate put us both on that boat and fate brought me back to Middle Earth. It is my destiny to rule, to unite the lands.”

Lies, more lies. Although, you were unsure who he was lying to. You, or himself.

You stepped closer to him, hostile in stance. “Unite the lands? You wish to destroy and concur. How many more must die before you are satisfied? How much more blood will you spill to sit on your decrepit throne?”

Only then did his demeanour change once again as darkness consumed him. He raised his voice, all manor of elegance crushed under the wrath in his eyes. “You will see. You will understand and you will join me!”

“I will never join you,” you spat through gritted teeth.

His breathing began to calm but his anger remained. He turned from you and spoke again only after he had reached out for the door.

“In time, you will.”

He did not once turn back to face you, not even as you ran after him but, before you could reach him, the door was shut tight once again. You pushed and pulled and threw yourself into the splintering wood but it would not budge.

His magic was strong. Strong enough to keep you locked away until the day you joined him. Strong enough to rebuild this home and turn it into a well-crafted prison. Strong enough to destroy Middle Earth, in time.

In time, it would all come to an end whether you chose his side or not. Still, you would not break. You would not cave despite the love you still felt in your heart for him for the man you had loved was not real, Halbrand was not real. Not anymore. Only Sauron remained.

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[ninchen1909]

The Teacher and the Mob boss - chapter 5-

Warnings: consumption of alcohol

Words:~2,400

I don't know how long I'm already sitting in the parked car, before I can finally get myself up to start the engine. The whole drive home runs as if on autopilot, and so I'm finally standing in front of my apartment without really knowing how I got there. I quickly take refuge in the safety of my apartment.

With a loud bang, I let the front door fall into the lock and let out a frustrated sigh. A million thoughts are running through my head. I just don't understand why it's so important to him that he become a part of my life. Why doesn't he just find a new mistress or stay faithful to his fiancée for a change. Frustrated, I toss my work bag next to the coat rack before heading toward my kitchen, where I grab a bottle of wine. I don't even bother to get a glass from the cupboard, so I drink from the bottle straight away. Immediately, the sweet fruity taste spreads into my mouth as the wine runs down my throat. After I have allowed myself a few hearty sips, I go into my living room together with the bottle and let myself fall onto the sofa. My thoughts keep finding their way back to Barnes, and I can't and won't accept that. 

So I get up to get my cell phone out of my pocket, only to send Wanda a very short message, consisting of only one word: "Girls' night?" just as I allow myself another strong sip from the bottle, my cell phone vibrates in my hand: "I'll be at your place at 7, bringing wine" despite my confusing thoughts, I have to smile. Wanda really can always be counted on. I quickly grab the wine bottle, and make myself comfortable on my sofa, while more and more wine runs down my throat, the anger rises more and more in me. That fucking asshole.

At seven on the dot Wanda is standing in front of the door holding a bottle of wine in each of her hands, which she immediately holds out to me as soon as I open the door. Of course, she recognizes at first glance that something is wrong, which is why she pushes me slightly back into my apartment, only to close the door behind her shortly thereafter. 

Not two seconds later, I find myself in a warm and intimate embrace. Even when she has finished, she doesn't let go of me completely, but puts her hands gently on my shoulders and pushes me back a bit, just to be able to look me in the eyes better:" What did Barnes do?" I look at her in surprise: "How do you know that my mood is so shitty because of Barnes? ", for a short moment she looks at me, caught off guard, before she skillfully plays this over, "pure intuition", I shake off my astonishment, and with a nod tell her to follow me to the sofa.

 The alcohol has already left its mark on me, which can be seen immediately in my slightly swaying gait, but Wanda leaves this fact uncommented, for which I am really grateful to her.

A little later, we sit together on the sofa, each with a glass of wine in hand. I take a big gulp from my wine glass, before I put it down, a little too firmly, on the living room table and let myself fall back into the soft cushions of my sofa "You know, it seems that you really can't trust men anymore today. They just come into your life, mess everything up, and then boom, they break everything just like that. And the worst part is, they then act like they have no idea what you're talking about." I let out a frustrated sigh as I continue to talk myself into a frenzy.

Wanda listens patiently to everything, but more and more amazement appears in her eyes. Only when she realizes that I have gotten the frustration off my chest for now, does she begin to speak:" You know, you've been telling me for good ten minutes now how stupid  men are, and in some cases, that's certainly true. But I still don't know what Barnes did that was so bad now that you're getting drunk on a Wednesday night and labeling all men as idiots." she takes a sip from her glass and looks at me over its rim questioningly.

"Oh I'll tell you what that asshole did. He's engaged Wanda, engaged as in he's getting married soon, I mean how can he?" abruptly Wanda starts coughing on her wine, as she slaps her own hand against her chest.

"Are you okay, do you want me to get you some water?" worriedly I look at her, however she just shakes her head and puts her glass on the table before turning her gaze back to me.

"He's engaged?" her voice has taken on a louder and shriller tone than usual,

"Yep" I let that p pop especially. To my amazement Wanda seems genuinely shocked, which doesn't really make sense to me though, she was the one who warned me about Barnes just a few days ago.

"He's not, I mean I don't think so. I mean he was so nice to you and..."

"Well I told you he is an ass, and I was stupid enough to buy his “I’m such a nice guy, and I really want to get to know you” shit. I really need to get over this idea that I can always make all men better." I reach for my glass again, letting the red gold inside run down my throat. Wanda seems to be blown away by this information, as she no longer gives me an answer, but just stares straight ahead.

In my inebriated state, however, I don't pay much attention to her reaction and just keep talking.

"You know, you were right, I should have just stayed away from him. But no, of course I jump at it the minute a guy shows interest in me." annoyed with myself I roll my eyes, and empty the rest of my glass.

"You can't think like that (y/n), I really think Barnes meant everything he said to you honestly. And he's not engaged." her voice sounds confident. When she notices my questioning look, she quickly adds.

"I mean you would have heard if the biggest mobster in our country was engaged, wouldn't you. And I maybe there's more to him than you're letting on right now." I just shrug, watching her empty her glass in one go. She looks uneasy, almost worried.

"Why are you suddenly defending him. I mean, the first day of school you were still warning me about him, and now you're more or less telling me to give him another chance. i mean he's engaged, that says it all. He's flirting with me, and telling me about feelings, while his fiancée is waiting for him at home. I mean that's unbelievable."

"I'm not trying to sugarcoat Barnes for you. I'm just saying that some things aren't what they seem. And maybe, you should give him another chance to explain himself. I mean maybe it's all just a misunderstanding." a sardonic laugh escapes me.

"Yeah sure, I'm sure it's all just one big misunderstanding." my voice trails with sarcasm, and I give Wanda a meaningful look before my voice, as well as my facial expression, take on a certain seriousness.

"And you know, maybe she's right about what she said..." Wanda tilts her head, looking at me from wary eyes.

"I'm not made for this life. I don't know the first thing about what's going on in his world and how I'm supposed to act."

"(y/n)... first of all, you wouldn't be alone, Barnes would help you with all of that and show you what matters. And second, how would you know that his supposed fiancée knows that."

I set my Gals down on the living room table with a loud clink before turning my full attention back to her. I shrug slightly before echoing the words of Linda,.

"Simply Wan, because she told me to. She said, and I quote,'He needs someone who knows how to behave in this world and how to look in this world.' And apparently Miss Linda Pierce knows that and I don't."

Immediately I notice Wanda tense up at these names, and her now again filled wine glass almost slips from her hand. She tries to make her features look unconcerned again as quickly as she can, but I've already noticed the change in her whole demeanor.

"Do you know her?" Curiosity rises in me and I wait anxiously for her answer.

"No..." she clears her throat slightly "no, I don't know any woman by that name." She shrugs her shoulders pointedly and coolly, but quickly averts her gaze from me, preferring instead to observe the contents of her wine glass. I draw my eyebrows together, doubts come over me, and I'm overcome by the feeling that Wanda is hiding something from me. But why should she?  She's one of my closest friends, so I try to swallow the uneasy feeling, but it leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. An oppressive silence settles over us, my fingertips drum impatiently back and forth on the rim of the wine glass. Every now and then I cast furtive glances at Wanda out of the corner of my eye, but she seems to be completely lost in her own world.

"Is everything all right with you? You've been so weird all evening." She looks at me in amazement before a forced smile settles on her lips and she sets her glass down on the living room table. Her hands keep brushing over the rough fabric of her jeans.

"Yeah sure, it's fine. I just have to go to the bathroom real quick." Before I can even react to that, she has already jumped up, and with quick steps she disappears from the living room and is also soon gone in the hallway. Stunned, I look after her, the previously suppressed doubts come back as if in a wave and I briefly have the feeling of sinking into them. To prevent this, I want to reach for my wine glass with a quick movement, but in doing so I notice that both it and the bottle are empty. With a frustrated sigh, I'm about to let myself fall back into the back of my sofa, when I remember that the two bottles Wanda brought with her are still standing in my hallway, where I put them when I hugged her, so I could return the hug better. So I heave myself up from the sofa and cross my living room in a few big steps. Just as I am about to go through the door, I can hear Wanda's quiet, hectic voice, through the ever-recurring pauses, I realize that she must be on the phone and is always waiting for the answer of her interlocutor. However, it is not the fact that Wanda is on the phone that makes me pause, but the conversation itself. While I can't understand all of what is being said due to her whispery tone, I understand enough to know that it is about me and Barnes. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, tense I hold my breath, listening to Wanda's phone call.

"Nat, you have to tell Barnes.".... "yes of course I understand that, but he needs to know who is behind all of this" .... "No I can't be more specific, I think (y/n) already suspects something."

An annoyed groan is heard from Wanda: "Natasha you know as well as I do that Barnes will not be reasoned with on this point, he will kill him, he will kill the whole family."startled, I tear open my eyes to suppress my gasp of shock, biting my lips hard, the iron taste of blood filling my mouth.  The person on the other end of the line, apparently a certain Natasha, seems to have a lot to say this time, because it takes quite a while before Wanda speaks up again.

"Yes ,alright, I'll come to you right now, then we can talk about it again in more detail.I'll just tell you one thing if something happens to (y/n) because of that, he doesn't have to be afraid of them anymore, but of me" .... "it's alright....yes see you soon.....I love you too"

When I noticed that Wanda ends the conversation, I try to get back to the living room as quickly and quietly as possible, once there I lean against the back of the couch and stare at the ceiling, trying to give the impression that I am deep in thought.

Only when Wanda clears her throat slightly do I turn my face to her, meanwhile hiding my trembling hands in my lap.

She looks at me with a smile on her lips, but a storm of anger and apparently fear rages in her eyes, her cell phone clutched tightly in her hand.

"(y/n) I'm really sorry, but I just got a call from my mom, she asked me to come over as soon as possible." a stab runs through me at the fact that she can lie to me while still looking me in the eye. I swallow the lump in my throat, playing along with her game.

"Is she okay?" I straighten up completely, trying to put as much feigned fear into my voice as I can. Wanda waves it off in response "Yeah don't worry, she just wants me to help her with something, nothing bad." She grabs her jacket and slips it over her shoulders.

"Good" I give her a feigned smile, and escort her to the door, and after a quick hug, she disappears into the darkness of the stairwell.

I quickly close the door behind her and lean my back against it, squeezing my eyes tightly shut and concentrating on breathing in normal breaths. Again and again I replay the overheard phone call in my head, I analyze every word until a realization settles in my mind. A realization that squeezes the air out of my lungs for a short time and causes me to open my eyes all at once. "Wanda is part of the mafia."

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

I just finished reading "the soon to be father" and the sequel "A Princess Is Born" and I love reader from the summer isles and her relationship with Daemon. That said, could I have an imagine/long fic (maybe nsfw) of how they met (maybe they don't like each other at first, but as time goes by a friendship is born when they realize they have things in common), like the relationship evolved from friendship until they realized that they were in love with each other and confessed and how they +

Part 2: just like each other after the feelings are clarified and reciprocated, like boyfriends (I know that the term dating, as we know it, does not exist in this universe, but I think that you understand what I'm getting at), even the proposal (maybe him asking Ayana for help, which she gladly helps) and if you can write the wedding ceremony (maybe they have two wedding ceremonies, one with the summer isle customs and another valyrian) please?( feel free to ignore and sorry for my english

Don't worry about your english, it's fine!

Sorry I took so long. I forgot my own rule to not complicate things and went overboard with the story. I hope you still like it.

Wedding vows and translation: here

Part 2: The soon to be father

Part 3: A princess is born (I changed bits of this to match up with the story.

The Dragon Prince in the Summer Isles

Pairing: Daemon x Fem. Reader (Summer Isles)

Word count: 9.5k words

Themes : Enemies to lovers | Soft | Slow burn

Warnings: Kissing | Mild smut / penetrative sex | mentions of burn injuries | Knife use | Blood

Possible grammar errors. I tried to edit as much as possible.

Minors DNI | 18+

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If you like this, please consider giving this a reblog!

                                                              *****

When Aenar Targaryen gathered his family and their dragons and fled Valyria as advised by his daughter, Daenys, he did so only after selling off his estates and parting with the books containing all the knowledge the Freehold.

That was the price the other houses demanded in exchange for their freedom to leave, for they feared the secrets surrounding their dragons would fall into the wrong hands. Those secrets went to a watery grave when the fourteen flames erupted as one and the entire peninsula collapsed and fragmented under a storm of ash, cloud, fire, and acid. The Targaryens, much like the Velaryons and the Celtigars before them, found a new home in Westeros, on an island fortress aptly named Dragonstone.

The other kings and lords of Westeros envied Aenar and his family, as well as the Velaryons and the Celtigars. They envied them for their beauty, their wealth, their ships, and their dragons. And when Aenar’s descendants, Aegon and his sisters, set their eyes further west, to Westeros proper, and they wished to secure their hold over the entire seven kingdoms, the chance came for the other lords to sink their claws in to the Targaryen family.

It started with the dragon pit, then it was the conversion to the faith of the seven, then it was only sons inheriting the crown and not daughters. Bit by bit, the dragon lords yielded to the Westerosi, and inch by inch, their talons were clipped and their fangs cut short. Despite this, House Targaryen remained strong, with ten dragons under their command and continuing on to the present day, where Viserys, the first of his name, ruled as king, and his brother, Daemon, led as Lord Commander of the City Watch.

💫

"Otto, Daemon gave me his word that he did not try to kiss Alicent last night at the feast," said Viserys while he, Otto, and prince Daemon sat in the Small Council room. "In fact, he says, it was your daughter who tried to kiss him."

It was a blisteringly sunny day in Kings Landing. All was quiet and bright. The city had emptied itself for the afternoon, with most retiring to their homes for an afternoon of lying in and waiting out the scorching mid-day heat. Here in the council room however, things were far from indolent. Two men were seated at an ornate marble table, while another huffed and paced about. That man was Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King.

He huffed again, while the King’s brother said his piece. What Daemon said was true—that he did not kiss Alicent and that Alicent was the one to throw herself at Daemon. Why, it was Otto himself who saw it happen, and why he quickly made his presence known. It was why he called this meeting with the king and his brother. He wanted to use it to his own advantage, perhaps force Daemon out of the Gold Cloaks, the Small Council, and Viserys’ life for good. He had already succeeded by limiting Viserys’ daughter’s influence. Now all that remained was to get rid of Daemon, and then Otto could carry out his plans unchecked.

"Your grace," said Otto in the most wounded air he could muster, "Alicent is a pure and virtuous girl. She would never stoop to such a thing. Besides, she is going to be your queen. How can you even entertain such slander!"

Viserys leaned back into his chair and smiled. "I have not even asked your daughter if she wants to marry me, and even if what Daemon says is true, why should it bother me?" He closed his eyes to hide the pain from the ever-growing wound on his back. "Alicent stealing a kiss is nothing compared to my antics in the Street of Silk.”

"Ah yes, the expert ministrations of the lovely Mysaria." Daemon held up his goblet and toasted the air.

“How is she?” Viserys ignored Otto’s indignant sputtering. “I have not been to the Street of Silk since my engagement to Aemma.”

“Ageless,” Daemon smirked. “The woman is practically ageless.”

“And is she still…”

“Incredibly flexible?” Daemon cackled along with his brother. “Very much so. She even asked after you.”

“Mysaria remembered me?” Viserys looked tickled pink.

“Of course. She asked: how is your older brother? Does he still blush till he goes red in the cheeks?” said Daemon, in the best Lysene accent he could muster. Viserys buried his face in his hand and laughed.

Pretending to be utterly scandalized, Otto made himself go as red as a freshly halved beet. "Your grace!" he grumbled in mock outrage.

“What?” Viserys looked to the Hand and shrugged. “She is flexible…”

And Daemon, unable to help himself, added: “And my brother does turn a pretty shade of red when he blushes.”

The Hand’s face ballooned like a puffer fish.

Gods, save me from your theatrics, thought Viserys, while he raised his hands as a gesture of peace. "Calm yourself, my Lord Hand. I will consider the events and come up with a solution that would be agreeable to us all."

Otto, finally putting on the air of a most aggrieved father, said: "I hope so, your grace. It would not do to allow such licentious behaviour to go unchecked," He gave a pointed look to an unbothered Daemon, huffed, and added, "or unpunished."

Daemon merely sighed and rolled his eyes.

Viserys nodded in agreement and only waited till the door closed behind Lord Otto. "What really happened?" He held out his goblet, so Daemon could refill it. "The truth, now. All of it."

Daemon told him all. How, after Viserys had retired for the night, he had gone off to a corner during the feast, to enjoy his food in solitude. Alicent had followed him, and without so much as a by-your-leave, she perched herself on his lap and planted her lips on his. Otto had wandered in on them just as Daemon stood up to push Alicent off of him.

"The man took one look at me, then one at his daughter," grumbled Daemon. “Then his eyes started to gleam. Next thing I know--"

"I had summoned you here." Viserys drummed his fingers against his goblet. "I am sure you are telling the truth, brother, but I need to have peace with him. The Hightowers have a lot of influence at court and I must be careful when dealing with their family."

Daemon studied him over his wine. "Do you think it’s wise, then, to marry into their family?"

"I need a direct male heir, Daemon, to settle the succession issue. And for that, I need a new queen." Viserys rubbed his eyes and sighed, wishing the lords would allow him to name his daughter his heir. Alas, his attempts to change the succession laws were blocked at every turn.

And not being heir never bothered Daemon. If asked by the right person, Daemon would say that the very idea of wearing the crown and pandering to the grasping members of court would be enough to make him physically ill. "What about Laena Velaryon?” he suggested their closest Valyrian kin. “Lord Corlys’ oldest. You wed her while your daughter weds her brother. Vhagar and Seasmoke would be under our control then. Or ask the Celtigars, perhaps."

Viserys shook his head. "Laena’s age and temperament is better suited for you than for me, I think. Besides, Corlys says she already has her head turned by one of the Celtigar twins. And the twins have no unwed sisters for me to consider."

"Why Alicent though? Someone who is not like us?" Asked Daemon. “How about going to Essos? Perhaps asking one of the old families of Volantis?”

Viserys looked over to the Valyrian Sphinxes by the door, the overtly erotic frescoes on the walls. A bride from one of the Old Blood families of Volantis would be ideal, but the nobles…

"Alicent is willing to respect our way of wedding brother and sister, strange as it may be to her,” he said. “And the other noble houses will consider it a slight upon their honour if I rejected their daughters and chose a foreign bride. No. I will marry Alicent when the time is right."

"In the Westerosi tradition, you mean," Daemon snarled. “And not in the ways of old Valyria.��

"That was what Aegon the first agreed to during his anointing as king, to follow the ways of the Andals and the First Men." Viserys felt his heart well up with sorrow. With each passing generation, more and more of old Valyria's ways fell by the wayside. How long would it take, he thought, before their dragons finally died out and they were no different from any other family in the Seven Kingdoms? "A condition I must fulfill if I am to keep my throne. That, and by maintaining good relations with the other lords, of course."

Which of course meant keeping the peace with Lord Otto. Daemon bowed his head and sighed, then took a long, steadying breath as he came to a decision. As always, his love for his brother won out against his own pride. He tried to come up with a solution that could work for both Viserys and himself. "Perhaps if I took myself out of the picture for a little while, this whole Alicent thing would blow over."

Agreeing with his brother’s proposal, Viserys rose and crossed over to a wall, one that had the most elaborate map of the known world painted on it. "How do you fancy a journey into Essos? I’ll provide you with enough coin for the trip, and—"

Daemon cut him off with a gentle, "Viserys, you know perfectly well that I have more than enough means for such a journey.”

"I know," agreed Viserys, as he looked over the many nations spread over Essos. Where would his brother start? Where would he end? Would he even come back once he had sampled the freedoms and pleasures Essos had to offer? Oh, how Viserys wished he could travel with his brother, escape the pressures of the crown, even for a little while, even when he didn’t have a dragon to his name. "But let me do this, please."

"Viserys," Daemon began.

"Daemon," Viserys interjected before his brother could continue. "You are my baby brother and have looked after me and protected me long enough. As king and as your older brother, it is I who must look after you. Please, let me do it. I insist."

Daemon smiled fondly and relented. His brother was gentle and generous, and stubborn as a mule when it suited him. "We’ll figure something out together."

"All right," Viserys said as he rejoined his brother at the table. "Send over your travel plans, and we will work something out."

💫

Rhaenyra found her uncle in his chambers, packing for his journey.

Servants had been rushing to and fro, ensuring all of the prince’s papers were packed, his clothes neatly wrapped in tissue paper and put into trunks. His mail and armour had been polished to a high sheen. Dark Sister hung by his waist, the ruby pommel glinting like fresh blood in the fading light.

“Laenor told me you were leaving? That you may not be able to attend our wedding?” cried Rhaenyra as she took in the chaos around her. “Why?”

“This must be done,” was all Daemon said. His niece was already harbouring anger and resentment towards her father over what happened to her mother, and he did not wish to widen that divide even more by saying anything that could be misconstrued and blown out of proportion. “That is all.”

Rhaenyra sniffed and plopped onto her uncle’s bed, picking up a pillow and holding it against her chest. “Are you really going to do it? Fly off somewhere and leave me alone with these gods-awful people?”

The servants may not have said anything, but Daemon was sure they were all listening. “Come with me.” He walked out onto the balcony and gestured for his niece to do the same. The moment she did, and they were far enough, Daemon dropped the Common Tongue and spoke in High Valyrian instead.

“You need to watch what you say, even in my presence,” he warned. “These people are not like us. They’ll turn on our family the moment an opportunity presents itself.”

Rhaenyra started to protest, “But uncle--”

And Daemon cut her off. “Nyra, I need you to listen to me.”

His eyes were somber and thoughtful, something she had never seen in him before. “Alright,” she said, as she made herself comfortable on the balcony ledge.

Daemon looked back into his chambers to ensure no one was hanging around longer than they should. “Nyra, I need you to be there for your father. Now I know you are angry with him,” he cut her off as soon as she opened her mouth. “Gods knows you have every right to. What was done to your mother was unforgivable. But… it is not going to change the fact that he is your father and that he is going to need you after I am gone.”

Rhaenyra stopped to consider her uncle’s words. Her father was strong and generous and loved by all, but without someone to support him, someone in his corner, someone like his brother, her father would be left exposed to the vultures that circled him. And Gods help her, but she loved him despite it all.

When she didn’t talk back, when she didn’t argue, Daemon took it as a good sign and continued. “We have to look out for each other.” Daemon dropped to his haunches so he could look her in the eye. “Now more than ever. Rhaenyra, I have to leave for Essos. And I might be gone for quite a while.”

“How long?” Rhaenyra sniffed and mumbled a thank you when Daemon gave her a handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

“Months, maybe even years,” said Daemon. Until Otto got over himself, he thought. “So while I am away, I would like you to keep an eye on your father. I will write to you as often as I can. And I want you to tell me everything that goes on here.”

Something tugged at Rhaenyra’s lips. The hint of a smile, thought Daemon. “Using the secret code you taught me?” she said.

“Yes,” grinned Daemon. “But be careful. Otto has eyes everywhere.”

Her smile finally grew, her eyes lighting up like pale purple stones glinting in the light of the setting sun. “Oh alright.” Rhaenyra glanced into her uncle’s rooms. The servants were finishing up with their packing. “I will keep an eye out on father. But will you be gone the whole time?”

“I will try to come to High Tide whenever your father allows it. Until then, try and keep your nose out of trouble.”

Rhaenyra clapped both hands to her chest and gasped. “Get my nose in trouble? When have I ever done such a thing?”

“The time you nearly burned down the great hall after sneaking a young Syrax into the Red Keep and she threw dragon flame onto the drapes?”

“That was just a small accident!”

Just a small accident, thought an amused Daemon. “Or the time you, Laenor and the Celtigar twins snuck into the family Sept and switched the head on the maiden’s statue with that of that warrior’s statue? And how the Septons thought it was an ill-omen and fasted for weeks?”

Rhaenyra gaped in outrage. “They insulted our families.”

Daemon smirked. “I will miss you, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra threw her arms around her uncle and hugged him tightly. “I will miss you too, uncle.”

That hug, and the embrace Viserys gave him at their parting, kept Daemon going on many a difficult morning while he was travelling around Essos.

💫

The days bled into each other. Weeks passed. Months passed, even entire seasons. 

Daemon traveled all over the free cities, breaking bread with the Magisters of Pentos, haggling with Braavosi bankers on behalf of his brother, and even receiving a warm welcome from the Old Blood of Volantis. Daemon did not linger too long in one place. Soon, he would find himself growing impatient and on the move again. He would occasionally return to Westeros, to Driftmark, to see his niece and her growing brood. Sometimes, his brother would join them.

Viserys grew weaker as the years passed. There had been wounds on his back, and they had been spreading. His fingers had become stunted, and his nails had all fallen off. He’d cut himself on the blades of the Iron Throne and not feel a thing, not until someone saw him bleeding and pointed it out. Daemon wanted to come back and help his brother, but Viserys would waive his protests and insist he continue his travels. 

And so, Daemon relented to his brother’s entreaties and kept traveling until almost fourteen years had passed, and he found himself on Jhala, the main island of the Summer Isles. After dismounting on the beach and letting Caraxes fly off to hunt, Daemon found himself face-to-face with Prince Sandoq Xho, the current ruler of the Red Flower Vale. He had been dressed in a simple, sleeveless linen tunic, with a brightly coloured feather collar adorning his neck.

 

"Welcome, Prince Daemon!" said Sandoq, as they gripped each other’s forearms in the traditional greeting of the Summer Isles. "I trust your journey here was pleasant?"

"Very much so," The clear blue skies, bluer seas, and warm air had done wonders for Daemon's constitution. "I hope your people will not mind a dragon in their midst?"

Sandoq looked over his guest’s shoulder at the red dragon dipping into the ocean to catch fish. Insatiable curiosity won out against any sliver of fear that tried to take root in his heart. Perhaps his guest might allow him to see the great beast up close and personal. "They do not," he said, as he led the way back up the beach. "In fact, my people were making petitions to try and see him, and I had to pass an edict forbidding them."

"Is such an edict even necessary?"

 

"The last time a dragon came here was a full generation before the doom" said Sandoq. "Your dragon will be seen as a novelty and people will not leave him alone."

 

And a dragon that is not allowed to live in peace turns into an angry dragon. And an angry dragon? Well, Daemon had his fill of an angry dragon once, and he wanted no one to experience such a horror. "I understand," he said as they walked over paved paths curving through thickets of lush trees and rare flowers. "I also hope I'm not imposing myself with my presence. The Iron Throne does not exactly enjoy the best relationship with the Summer Isles.”

"Not having the best of relationships would be an understatement."

Sandoq winced when he heard it, and both men stopped walking as two women approached them. "My wife, Ayana Qo," Sandoq first pointed to the older woman on the left. "And the one who just spoke is my daughter. The princess y/n."

"Princess Ayana," Daemon greeted your mother first, gripping her right forearm. "I have heard much about you from your ambassadors."

Ayana studied him and smiled. Daemon had all the characteristics of old Valyria: Silver hair, purple eyes and devastatingly handsome, the kind that would have him followed by all the eligible men and women of the islands before long. "Half-truths and embellishments, I’m sure."  

"What are ambassadors, princess, if not to give half-truths and embellishments?" 

The princess snorted with laughter.

"But I am more than certain that is not the case in your situation," Daemon said gallantly, his eyes edging towards you every so often. 

You took him in, the soft linen clothes, the single silver braid. Daemon was a man of high birth, and it showed, not just in his appearance but in how he carried himself, very much like a dragon-riding prince and the brother of a king. 

 

Oh, you thought you knew the type: arrogant, brash, with thoughts for no one but themselves, the type to get themselves into trouble and then not bother to apologize for all the harm they caused. “So. I hear it was you who burned our ships at the Stepstones?”

“Those ships were engaged in piracy,” Ayana countered.

“And I warned my brother not to do it,” Sandoq sighed. “Kojja was a most bull headed man when it suited him,” he looked apologetically to Daemon. “And power went to his head in the end.”

“Aba, he burned those men alive!”

 

“After I flew over their ships three times as a warning, princess,” Daemon was not going to stand there and let you accuse him of murdering innocent sailors. Not when he knew the crimes your uncle committed. “And your uncle sided with the Crabfeeder. They brought their fates upon their own heads.”

“Y/n,” your mother cut you off before you could snarl at Daemon again. “That is quite enough from you.”

Your mother gave you a look that said: Do not test me. Biting your tongue, you glowered and ground your teeth as Daemon walked ahead, his eyes turning to you the entire time. You were content to glare back, and he was content to chuckle, much to your annoyance.

💫

It was almost noon the next day when Daemon opened his eyes.

The sun shone through colored glass panels that served as a skylight, bathing the bed in a riot of yellows and reds and oranges. Daemon rubbed his eyes and looked around, as he had collapsed into bed the evening before without having a good look first. 

There were no hearths here. The walls and floors had been paneled with rich dark wood, with slats cut cannily into the windows. They had been broad enough to let in lots of fresh and light and angled in such a way as to prevent rain from getting into the room. The bed was soft, the sheets and pillows softer. Sheer gauze drapes fluttered in the breeze. Daemon sighed contentedly, thinking he had chosen well by coming to the Red Flower Vale. 

He wanted to lay there and not go anywhere, but the need for a meal forced him out of bed. Daemon made use of the glass wash basin and pitcher of water left on his bedside counter to freshen himself up. When he dressed for the day and came downstairs, only you were present in the dining room, the remnants of your mid-day meal in front of you. “Hello, princess y/n,” Daemon said in greeting.

 

He should not have been surprised to see you here, this was your home after all. Still, after yesterday’s reception, he was hoping to not have to deal with you on his own, not for a little while at least. “Hello,” you mumbled none too happily when he joined you at the table. Your parents had given you a thorough lecture over your behaviour towards their guest, and you hadn’t gotten over it as yet. “There’s rice and fried fish if you’re hungry.”

On Daemon’s request, a servant came forth with a heaping dish of fried fish and rice that had vegetables and a lot of spices in it. Thoroughly starved and thoroughly enticed by the mouth-watering scents, Daemon ate his meal with gusto, even going so far as to ask for a second serving. You watched as he finished off every crumb. “No reddened cheeks,” you mutter with barely disguised curiosity. “No cries for water. Interesting.”

Daemon heard and looked at his plate. The spices. Daemon was sure you had been referring to the spices. “Well,” He helped himself to some ale and smirked. “I am a Targaryen, princess y/n. We do like it hot.”

You squeaked and turned your head, your cheeks aflame. Not only had he heard you, but there was something about the way he said "hot" that got your stomach all tangled up in knots. 

Seeing you all flustered tickled him, and Daemon snickered before finishing off his ale. “So tell me, princess y/n,” he leaned back into his chair and stretched out his still sore legs, licking remnants off the pads of his fingers as he did so. As the years passed, flying atop a dragon became harder, tired one out faster, and Daemon had traveled farther than most. Perhaps after this, he would go back to Westeros for good and put an end to his traveling. “What plans for me today?”

“I--” you groaned, as your parents had put you in charge of keeping the prince company. “I am to show you around the Red Flower Vale.”

Oh but the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. Daemon was sure you had been made to do this. “On your father’s orders?” he cackled. “Or your mother’s?”

You caught the glint in his eyes. Oh, but he was enjoying this, watching you groan and squirm. “Both,” you mumble and stood. “Actually.” 

He rose with you and accompanied you to the door. “Where to first?”

“Our main library. Father said you might like to see it.” You did a double-take when you heard him right next to your ear. Daemon was so close, you could practically smell him: leather and lilies and not so unpleasantly of dragon. You swallowed, thinking how such an odd mixture could be so appealing. You blinked once, twice, then quickly turned away when his lips quirked upwards. “Do not read anything into it,” you mutter and step out.

“Do not flatter yourself into thinking that I am,” He retorted pleasantly enough. 

That stung. “Arsehole,” you mumble and stomp over the grass. 

“Like I have not heard that one before,” Daemon called after you sweetly.

When you squeaked and looked back, Daemon pretended to be looking elsewhere. His gaze turned back to you when you looked forward. Telling you not to flatter yourself was very well-timed, but he could see he had hurt your feelings, and you were already determined to not like him. Daemon groaned and wished that his brother was with him. Viserys could have found a way out for him, perhaps even chided him a little.

Daemon found himself missing his brother immensely.

💫

 The next day Daemon woke up early and with purpose.

He’d have to win you over and show you that he was more than a dragon rider who burned everything in his path, and the only way to do that was by apologizing first. After going through his usual morning routine, Daemon came downstairs and found you alone again.

“My parents have gone to the beach for the boat races,” you said as he sat next to you. “They asked me to bring you with me.”

The summer boat races, something Sandoq told him about at dinner. It was something Daemon looked forward to seeing. “I would love to see it.”

“Good,” you rose and dusted off your skirt. “Let us go then.”

“Y/n.”

You stopped by the door. Daemon walked up to you but still kept a respectful distance.

“I did not mean to hurt your feeling yesterday afternoon,” he said. “I tend to speak before I think, and I am sorry.”

You sighed, for you knew an apology from your end was also necessary. Your parents, during their scolding, told you some harsh truths about your uncle and the Crabfeeder, and how Daemon was left with no choice in the end. “And I must apologize for accusing you of killing innocent men. My father told me some ugly truths about my uncle, about his sailors, tales they kept hidden from me, and now I feel their demise was well deserved.”

“Thank you,” murmured Daemon. “And how did it feel,” The rogue in him could not help itself. “To say it?”

“Like pulling teeth out of my mouth,” you found yourself smiling. “Now come. Everyone is waiting on you.”

Daemon grinned and gestured for you to lead the way.

The day was pleasantly cool, even for a summer day. The path leading up to the beach was filled with birdsong, the likes of which Daemon had never heard before. He tried to commit everything to memory, so he would have plenty to tell his niece in his next letter.

Daemon let his eyes wander for a while. The Summer Isles was often called the “the true paradise isles,” and he was starting to see why. There were rainforests as far as the eye could see. The air was always sweetened by the many flowers that bloomed all over. Birds of every size and hue could be seen in the mornings when the weather was clear. Their fallen feathers could be found everywhere, and Daemon collected many, to send Rhaenyra and her children as presents.

The rest of the day passed pleasantly, as did every other day after that. Daemon would wake up early and join you as you go about your day in the Vale.

You showed him which flowers were poisonous, and which ones could heal. Which birds made excellent feathery companions, and which ones had to be avoided like the red death. You would take him to Vale’s main library, watching in fascination as Daemon poured over all the books he could find, especially those that had even a hint of life in old Valyria. He never stopped thanking you when you took him to the only Valyrian temple at the center of the island.

Daemon had the energy and curiosity of a teenager, and the appetite of one as well. He ate all the meals given to him and left nary a crumb on his plate. He even sweet-talked the cooks to give him the recipes, in the hopes the kitchens of the Red Keep could duplicate them.

He would spend time with the archers, learning how to use the goldenheart bows the Summer Isles were famous for. He could never take a bow for himself, of course, not unless it was given as a gift, but Sandoq’s people saw no harm in him borrowing one during his stay.

Sometimes, he’d join the prince in his duties. Other times he’d join you and your friends whenever you all went fishing.

Today was such a day.

It was just the two of you, stalking along a stream, hoping to catch fish for supper. The sky had grown gloomy, and the wind had picked up. The fish seemed to be hiding, or next to impossible to catch. When it started to rain, the two of you had to give up and come running back home, laughing merrily, making it to the door just after the rain fell down in earnest.

Daemon went straight to his rooms to change into something dry. He heard the crack of thunder and the flash of lightning and walked to a window. The sky had taken the colour of slate, and wind and rain slashed against the homes of the Vale.

No, Daemon corrected himself as he slipped into a pair of comfortable breeches. These were not mere homes, they were manses. The Red Flower Vale was rich in trade and coin, and it showed, everywhere he looked. The women walked about with bright feathers and expensive jewels in their hair, the men donning feathered necklaces made of gold and silver. Some were even wealthy enough to afford Valyrian steel, rare as it was. He thought of his hosts, jovial Sandoq and graceful Ayana, and he thought of you. During his stay, Daemon found himself thinking of you more and more.

He’d think of you first thing in the morning, and when he closed his eyes at night. He’d noticed how your ears twitched when you were reading a favourite book of yours, or how you never backed down. Why, he saw plenty when you challenged your mother’s cousin Quhuru to a boat race and he lost, theatrically pronouncing to all and sundry how you cheated, because he was distracted. The sun was in his eyes, he said mournfully.

Daemon cackled when you confirmed and said yes, the sun was forever in Quhuru’s eyes.

“The cook said you might like this,” you said, interrupting his thoughts, as you came in with a bowl of soup. “It’s quite good, it has… Gods, what happened?”

It was not Daemon’s exposed back and chest that grabbed your attention, all lean and muscled and striking as it was. It was the massive pink scar going down on either side of the right of his body that did it.

He turned his head to you, a rueful smile tugging at his lips as he looked down at the scarred and puckered flesh.  “Yes. This.”

You left the bowl on the counter and stood there, gawking. The prince had been burned, you were almost certain of it, but what could have caused such wounds? Not his own dragon surely. You swallowed, trying to come up with something to ask, or even say.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Daemon stood where he was, and you stood where you were, both of you waiting for the other to make the first move.

In the end, you broke the silence. “What--” you said, as you finally found your tongue, “What happened?”

Daemon sighed and made his way to bed. “A dragon. That’s what.

“Balerion had died, and my brother, the king, was without a dragon. It was humiliating. People would point and look, and other dragon riders would snigger. My brother put on a brave face, but I knew how hard it was for him. The first Targaryen king without a dragon, even when there were plenty of them.” He stopped while you made yourself comfortable on the other end of the bed, to listen to him. “He tried. Gods knows he tried to bond with the other unclaimed dragons, but they all rejected him. Years passed and my brother started to grow desperate. This worsened after his daughter became a dragon rider at seven.” Daemon smiled fondly. “The youngest in my entire family’s history to do so.”

You did not interrupt as Daemon continued his tale, but you couldn’t help but notice the pride and admiration there. It sent a stab through your gut, for it reminded you of your own uncle, and how he was with you.

“Everything came to a head one morning on Dragonstone. My brother took it upon himself to ignore all warnings and headed to the far side of the island, where the wild dragons nest.”

Your hands flew to your mouth in horror. Even in the Summer Isles, tales were filled with foolish Valyrians trying to claim true wild dragons and dying horrible deaths.

“Sheep-stealer flew off, Grey Ghost proved too shy.” Daemon sighed and looked at his hands. They started to tremble when visions of the inky black horror flashed before his eyes. “That left my brother with only one other dragon. The one we all call the cannibal.

“He snapped and snarled, and yet my brother persisted. He roared and kept backing away, to warn us, and yet my brother persisted. I followed him and saw it all about to unfold before my eyes. My brother was insistent, and Cannibal was growing angry. He opened his mouth, about to breathe dragon flame. My brother kept giving orders, thinking he’d obey.” Daemon shook his head, still stunned his brother could be so blind. “I couldn’t just stand there. The moment Cannibal raised his head I lunged forward and pulled my brother out of the way.”

“And you got hit in the process.” You tried to think what it must have felt like and failed every time. To endure such a thing, the pain, and did his brother ever thank him, for what he did?

“I did,” Daemon mumbled. “I managed to drag us both into a cave, one where the beast could never enter. We were trapped for two days before someone was brave enough to come looking for us. The Maesters are still unsure of how they were able to save me.”

“And what did you tell the others?”

“Viserys wanted to tell the truth, that his foolishness nearly cost us our lives. I took the blame onto my head instead, because I did not want the others to think my brother had lost his mind and was unfit for the throne.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “And it does not bother you, that people continue to believe this?”

Daemon shook his head. “Viserys is my brother. My family. And the blood of the dragon runs thick.”

It was not just what he said, it was how he said it that created an impression on you. “You love him, don’t you?”

Daemon looked at you, the deep purple of his eyes stealing your breath away. “Yes. I do.”

💫

Your opinion of Daemon softened completely after that.

The man loved his family, and would willingly risk his life and his reputation for his family, traits Summer Islanders hold dear. 

You opened up to him about your uncle, the one who died on the Stepstones.

“Kojja was not always driven by money,” you said one morning, over breakfast. “He was bigger than life to my eyes. A legend amongst our sailors. He was the first of us to sail all the way to the Port of Ibben and Asshai and come back again. The first of us to see krakens and ice dragons and unicorns, and lived to tell about it. I didn’t know--” you felt a fist squeeze around your heart. “I didn’t think he’d betray his own people to the likes of the Crabfeeder and the Triarchy.”

“Greed has a habit of felling the noblest of men,” Daemon felt for you. Kojja had been a living legend, and his fall from grace would have been hard on anyone who loved him. “And I am sorry still. The man was your uncle after all.”

You look out the window, down the path that led to the beach. Caraxes had been there, you heard his strange cries and whistles all day as he flew over the waves. The same insatiable curiosity that took over your father now found its way to you. “Perhaps I might forgive you,” you say archly. “If you’d introduce me to your dragon.” 

Daemon grinned and rose, holding out a hand to you. “Come along then.”

The air seemed to grow still as the forests around you went eerily quiet, something that only ever happened if the dragon was nearby. There had never been a beast like Caraxes and the other animals kept quiet and stayed away, hiding in the darkness. You were both anxious and nervous, as the only dragons you had heard about were the ones told in songs, the ones that brought fire and ruin to all those that opposed their masters. Now, you were going to see a dragon in the flesh, something even the others had not been able to do. Caraxes would have only come to the beach if Daemon called for him, and Daemon never called him, preferring to let his dragon enjoy unencumbered freedom for once.

The two of you stood there, where grass gave way to sand. Daemon whistled, something strange and eerie, and an equally strange call answered him. “There,” he pointed to a nearby cove. “Caraxes is there.”

Sure enough, he was, standing out against the pristine white sands with his blood-red scales. As soon as he sighted Daemon Caraxes took off, flying low over the waters, landing next to his master with a soft thud. As soon as he sighted you, Caraxes snarled. “Lykirī, Caraxes. Lykirī.” he held onto the dragon’s snout, to calm him. “You are afraid of him, y/n, and he knows it. Come here, stand by his wing.”

You swallowed, but your pride got the better of you and you went towards them, staying well out of the dragon’s way. You could feel Caraxes’ eyes following you, the heat coming off of his body, like the subtle blast from a furnace. “Here,” Daemon gestured to under Caraxes’ wing, where his rib cage was. “Keep your ear there and listen.”

While he babbled to his dragon in High Valyrian, you did as Daemon asked. Caraxes’ scales were as thick as armor, each perfectly fitting in with the other. You rested your ear against them and listened. At first, there was nothing, but you kept listening. Then you heard it, a deep, steady thump, one that grew clearer as the dragon calmed down. “That is his heartbeat?”

Daemon turned to you again, his face lighting up when your own eyes lit up with awe. “Yes. If you could get something your healers use for listening in, the sound is much clearer. I could take you flying with me,” he finally let go of the dragon’s snout and came closer. “But the old boy is particularly surly this morning.”

It didn’t matter. What Daemon had just given you was nothing like anything you had ever experienced in your life. “This is still better than anything I had dreamed of.” Still overawed, you threw your arms around Daemon and hugged him. Shocked at first, Daemon eased into the embrace, and before either of you had a chance to speak or even think, his lips opened over yours.

He registered the shock in your eyes as his hands slipped neatly around your waist. What was he supposed to do after this? Let go and apologize? Pray your parents would not take umbrage to him trampling upon your honour? The Summer Islanders were free when it came to love, they both said, but still, it would be a completely different prospect since it involved their own child. 

But he wanted you. Gods, but he wanted you. It was a feeling that had been building up inside him for weeks now, and now, he finally figured out what it was. 

When his hands moved higher, to your hair, you hummed, your eyes closing even as your trembling lips parted for his tongue. You felt it, flicking and teasing against yours, warm and luscious as sin. Your entire body trembled, not just from the sudden stab of shock, but desire too. You wanted more than just a kiss. Daemon made it impossible to be satisfied with just a kiss. Your body melted against his, your heart thrilling at the moan that poured into your mouth.

When he pulled away, and very reluctantly at that, the both of you were struggling for breath. “That was-” Daemon ran a hair through his mussed up hair, his heart fluttering like mad, his stomach tied up in knots. “That was,” he smiled, “amazing.”

Your feelings matched his. “You are not so bad yourself.”

He chuckled. “How about, we do this the right way, y/n?”

Right way? What was he talking about?

“I really, really like you,” Daemon murmured as he took both your hands and brought them to his lips. “And I was wondering if I could court you.”

There was that shock again, confusion, surprise, and a myriad of other emotions warring in your eyes. He wanted to court you. Daemon Targaryen, prince of Westeros, wanted to court you, a princess from the Summer Isles. You felt something tug at your heart, something warm and vibrant and the sweetness of it took your breath away. 

“Alright,” you laughed when he lifted you off your feet and spun you around. “You can court me.”

💫

Sandoq gave Daemon the use of a private cabin on his estates, so the two of you could have more privacy.

Your mother fluttered around you like a worried hen, clucking about, making sure everything was perfect for you, not leaving until your father had to physically pull her with him.

Oh you did not mind. Ayana was your mother, and this was how she was. Daemon did not mind it either, patiently answering her questions, reassuring her, taking her threats with easy grins and indulgent nods of the head. He watched her leave with a smile on his face, that smile growing when you pulled him to bed.

That was how it was. The two of you going about your days, getting to know each other better, you trying not roll your eyes at his antics, him trying to impress you with flowers and letters and poems. They were terrible poems, Daemon himself admitted to it, but you loved them all the same.

The nights spent in each other’s arms.

“You know, I really should thank Alicent when I go back,” Daemon mumbled to you one night. “If it was not for her throwing herself at me we would not have met.”

Your laugh was muffled by his mouth. The sweetness of his kiss left you lightheaded and weak, turned your bones to water. Your trembling fingers trailed up to his hair, a soft, throaty moaning rising from the back of your throat when he hooked an arm around your thigh, to plunge himself deeper.

Daemon, you whimpered.

Every night since that day at the beach, that was all he heard when the two of you shared pleasures. His name. Just his. Oh, but he loved it, loved hearing it. Daemon couldn’t get enough it, couldn’t get enough of you. With a moan of his own, Daemon propped himself on one elbow, to avoid crushing you. His greedy eyes devoured you as you moved beneath him, his ears drowning with the sounds of your cries and pleas. His mouth skimmed across your jaw, his body arching into yours whenever your nails raked down his back. He felt it, a wave building within him, something that had to be said with words, words he had been meaning to say for weeks now. “I love you,” each word was a fight to get out, but he did it.

Your eyes flew open with shock even as your body trembled beneath his. His eyes were fixed on yours, molten purple gleaming in the moonlight. “I love you, do you hear me?” He panted. “I love you.”

His words struck a chord, gave meaning to what you had been feeling the longest possible time. But you’d never thought you’d hear him say it first. It made you want to say it back, and you did. “I love you.”

That nearly undid him. “Again,” he said, as he thrust harder and deeper.

“I love you,” you whimpered, as your body started to draw tight like a bowstring.

“Tell me again,” his eyes, darkened by lust, never left yours. “I want to hear you say it again.”

You wanted to sob as he drove the both of you over the edge. “I love you,” you whimpered one last time before those coiled muscled snapped, and your body felt like it was splintering into a million little pieces as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, threatened to pull you under. It felt like you had to fight for air, like the very world itself had stopped spinning. Daemon heaved over you, not stopping until he buried his face in your hair, a sob tearing itself from his throat as he spilled his seed inside of you.

You felt yourself being moved as Daemon moved to his back. The rain continued to fall, a soft, soothing patter against the roof. Your chest heaved as you placed a hand against his, to feel his heartbeat hammering against his chest before slowing to a more peaceful rhythm. Daemon swallowed, as there was something else he had to say. Something that hinged on your answer.

“Marry me,” Daemon fought off the fear that gripped his heart, even as you sat up straight. “Marry me, y/n. I want to take you back to Westeros with me, as my wife.”

Your eyes went wide with shock as certain incidents over the past few days started to make sense. Daemon cloistering himself in meetings with your parents, all of them shooing you away when you tried to join in. Your father humming a traditional refrain fathers only ever sang when escorting their daughter to their husband’s home. Your mother giving you knowing looks, talking about feather capes brides wore, asking your opinion on them, what colours you personally liked best. It was for you, you realized. All of it was for you.

On a shuddering breath, you thought over his proposal. You would have to leave everything and everyone behind and live in a strange land. But you looked at Daemon, at his sure eyes, his strong arms. At the beginning, the very idea of being anywhere near him repulsed you, but now, now you couldn’t think of spending another minute away from him. Daemon would be with you, and you would not be alone. One the next steadying breath, you swallowed and came to a decision.

“Yes” you said, between laughter and tears. “My answer is yes.”

💫

It took the better part of three months to prepare, more than just for the ceremony itself but to delay everything until someone from Daemon’s family could come for the wedding. To justify his brother's absence, Daemon provided verifiable reports of instability in the Stepstones. Viserys would give a proper welcome should Sandoq or Ayana ever visit Westoros, he had promised.

In the end, his niece and her good-sister Laena came, both bearing gifts and letters from the family. One piece of information ruined Daemon’s mood surrounding the wedding.

"He’s losing sight in his right eye now?" Daemon swore as he paced about the room. "Damn it, Nyra, why didn’t you tell me?"

Rhaenyra picked up a special parcel her father insisted she give to her uncle in person. "Father forbade me from saying anything in my letters."

"He forbade you?" Daemon was unsure if he was to laugh or be angry. "And you actually listened?"

"Yes. It was a bit of a shock for me too." Rhaenyra sighed and sat on the bed. "I am sorry, uncle, for hiding this from you. It is just that you sounded so happy in your letters, and neither of us wanted to ruin it for you."

Daemon’s grimaces slowly melted into a wide grin. No matter how hard he tried, he could never stay angry at his niece—or his brother, for that matter. "The others take you both," he teased in good humour. "What is that?"

Rhaenyra grinned and broke the wax seal, cut the twine cord. When she pulled away piles of tissue paper, Daemon saw what it was, his eyes went wide in disbelief. "Is that?"

"Visenya’s wedding diadem," Rhaenyra picked up the gold and Valyrian steel tiara, one only ever worn by brides of the Freehold. "Rhaenys’ he gave to me for my wedding. This he kept aside for you, in case you ever got married. And I’m glad he did."

And it was only right, she thought, that Visenya’s diadem went to the person who wielded her sword. She held it out for her uncle, and he accepted it with great reverence, his thumb gently rubbing against the Valyrian symbols engraved into the metal. "Laena has gone off with the elders, to help them ready the temple for the ceremony," she said. "I cannot believe this is happening, you are finally getting married."

"Yes, it was a bit of a shock for me as well," Daemon agreed, his grin matching hers. "But I’m glad I asked. I truly believe y/n is the one."

"And I cannot wait to welcome her to the family. The rest feels the same. Well, our side, at any rate."

And by that, she meant the Velaryons and the Celtigars. "Let us not discuss your half-brothers," Daemon said, not wanting to mar the days ahead with talk of his nephews and the rumors that surrounded them. "They are not worth the energy, at any rate."

The next morning saw the sun shining brightly as a crowd left the Vale and traveled by boat to the center of Jhala, where the only Valyrian temple outside of Volantis remained.

The boats were all decorated with feathers that fluttered in the breeze. You traveled in the first boat, with your family and the Vale’s elders, the rest followed as the procession made its way upriver. In keeping with custom, you were dressed in a pale cream and yellow linen dress, with simple embroidery at the hem as its only adornment. Your mother carried the cape that Daemon would drape over you during the ceremony. She refused to let you see it, only ordering that you wait and see.

Your father sang out the traditional song as the boat was rowed upriver, his rich voice carrying over the water for all to hear. Daemon had no home here, his was in Westeros, and the journey to the old Valyrian temple had to serve. You felt a fist squeeze at your heart whenever you heard cracks in your father’s voice, and you tried to make the most of every last moment with your parents. Even with the swan ships, Westeros was a long way away, and they would not be able to travel for some time.

You looked ahead, finally settling on the yellow and orange banners that ran up an old and long forgotten path. Save for you and Daemon, no one had come this far since the Freehold's inception, when sons of house Velaryon married princesses from the Summer Isles as part of a peace treaty. Tribesmen had spent many backbreaking days clearing branches and old roots, and now the old path stood visible for all to see.

Quhuru was serious for once as he led the boat up the closest bank. There would be no other great ritual, a bride would simply go to her husband’s home after a goldenheart bow changed hands, and there would be a great feast afterwards, but you wanted to honour Daemon’s heritage and suggested a Valyrian ceremony as well.

The procession started again, this time winding through the narrow path in a riot of colours. Your breath caught when the temple came into view. Made entirely out of black stone that had been fused together by dragon flame, it gleamed in the sun, defying the forests that threatened to overtake it. "Over there," your father said, pointing to Laena standing near a small doorway.

As the minutes passed, your excitement grew. You didn’t even notice the diadem weighing down on your head, so excited were you for the wedding to begin. Daemon would be there, as would his niece. She would be performing the ceremony, after learning the words from her father. Your father squeezed your hand as the two of you walked ahead, your mother sniffing quietly as she followed, feather cape in hand.

On you all walked, under the stone doorway, through candle-lit corridors, making your way to a chamber cut cannily out of stone. Daemon was here, resplendent in traditional Valyrian robes. A large black statue loomed in behind him, one you were told represented the Valyrian goddess of marriage and love. There were more candles here, all in yellow and red, and incense—thin sticks filling the air with smoke that reminded you of cinnamon. His face lit up when he turned and saw you.

 "Go on," your mother urged as she walked behind you. "It is time."

Daemon first accepted the cape from your mother, draping a waterfall of red, orange, and yellow over your shoulders. Sandoq then brought forth a magnificent goldenheart bow with matching arrows, for you to hand over to Daemon, a sign you were leaving your family’s protection and entering your husband’s. Laena took it off Daemon’s hands, as the rest of the ceremony had to continue.

Daemon then unsheathed a dragonglass blade and dragged it across your right palm. It stung, but you didn’t care. You smiled, taking the blade off his hands, and did the same to him, this time across his left palm. "Now join hands," said a solemn Rhaenyra.

Sandoq wrapped a yellow and orange sash over your linked hands, as blood dripped into a little bowl held by your mother. When it was full, Rhaenyra took it, mixed it with ash and embers that had been scooped up from a nearby fire, and held out the bowl to you both.

"Hen lantoti anogar, va syndroti vaedroma," she said as Daemon dipped a finger in, letting the mixture coat it before placing it over your brow. He brought it down in a straight line, to symbolize fire.

"Mero perzot gihoti, Eledroma iarza sir ," Rhaenyra continued, this time as you dipped your finger before drawing the sign of blood on Daemon’s brow. Rhaenyra then put the bowl away and picked up a goblet of wine, handing it to you first.

"Izuli ampa perzi, Prumi lanti seteksi," you drank deeply and passed the goblet to Daemon to do the same while Rhaenyra finished the vows. "Hen jeny mazilarion, Qelossa ozundesi, Sydroro ono jedo, Ry kivia mazvestraksi."

Daemon cupped your cheek with your free hand, his eyes filling with pride. You were finally his now, in the sight of both Gods and men. Your eyes communicated your feelings, of how proud you were to be his. When he leaned in to kiss you, everyone cheered.

[catyo90]

Starstruck: Elendil x GN!Reader

Anonymous Request: Short Drabble

SOME SPOILERS FOR THE SILMARILLION. SO IF YOU DONT WANT TO KNOW THE CANON OF SOME THINGS. YOUVE BEEN WARNED

The stars were high in the sky as they danced around the moon as you looked over the horizon seeing the sun setting over the waves making the waves look like shattered glass as they crashed along side of the ship. The ocean made you feel at home the most, you’d spent a lot of your time on the beach as a child. Despite having a great love and desire for the ocean, there was always a small hint of fear of the deep and because of that, you were a little afraid having been at sea for so long.

It had been weeks since the faithful set sail for middle earth. You were part of Elendils crew and had somehow been separated from Isildur and Anarion ships during a horrible storm that caused the ships to go in opposite directions. Now with Numenor gone Elendil decided it was best to make straight for the lands otherwise the others would run out of food and fresh water before they arrived. 

The last you saw of your home was the great wave taking the island back into the sea as flames of Sauron's temple to his master Melkor extinguished into nothing but mud and ash. As the screams of those who stayed behind echoed on the waves reaching no help. You recalled the sight of the Queen Regent being taken by the sea as her cry to Valar fell silent. You closed your eyes in pain from the memory of seeing her fall into the depths below. The weeks before the ships left you begged her to flee with you, but she would not. She was a Numenorian, she would not leave her home no matter how much it had defiled.

 Now you had no home and only the hope of you and your family would reach the northern shows of middle earth where Elendil had confided in you that the people would rebuild. However the days had now stretched into weeks as no land had come into sight. In truth you felt it was not to be for the ships to reach the land.

“Surprised to see you up so late Y/n”

You turned around with your journal and quill in one arm as you looked at him as he looked over your shoulder to see you writing the accounts of the days before.

“It is best not to dwell on the past.” He said as he stepped forward leaning over the railing looking outward across the sea rubbing his hands together. You saw his worry for his sons. You closed the journal and placed it down on the deck bringing yourself to stand next to him placing a gentle hand on his shoulder causing him to look at you for a moment before smiling a half hearted smile as he placed a hand over your own.

“They are strong and stubborn boys Elendil, I believe they are safe. It is us that I worry more every day. No birds for days and no sight of land either. Perhaps it would be better to make a floating city on the ocean itself.”

Elendil chuckled to himself for a moment as he sighed. You smiled only for a moment hearing him chuckle. It had been so long since you heard him laugh or at least so himself in any sort of relaxed manner. 

“I would not blame you, you know, if you decided to simply leave to find your sons in the south.”

Elendil looked at you with a slightly hurt look.

“You think I would abandon them in search of my own?”

“Not abandon. Just...at least find something to give you hope. After all no one would blame if you did. Any parent would understand.”

“My sons can handle their own, they have each other and their families. Its time I focused on helping those who need me more.”

He stopped for a moment as he looked down at you. You couldn’t help but admire the silver hue of his eyes. They were not common in many Numenorians but only in those who had more blood of Elros in their families. Even his name meant both ‘lover of stars’ and ‘elf friend’, clearly truth in both ways to him. You had always admired him not just a a captain of the guard but also just as he was.

“Your not wrong, as long as I have known you and your sons, they somehow always managed to get into and out of trouble seemingly okay.”

Elendil smiled and noticed you were rubbing your hands against your arms shivering at the cold ocean air. He walked over to the side of the ship and grabbed a small fur cloak and walked over from behind placing it on your shoulders and clasping the pins to your guard uniform. You smiled at the gesture as you clung to the cloak a little tighter. You saw him offer his arm out for you to take.

“You need all the warmth you can get.”

You feel your cheeks flushing slightly at this, but you take hold of his arm and just hold on step a little closer to him. You stay close to his side, clutching his arm with yours wrapped around his back.

You looked up and noticed the stars appearing out of the sky more and more. The sight of constellations you had never seen before made you smile. Elendil looked up and leaned over to you and pointed up just a bit to the side.

“That one is Telumendil.”

You saw it was quite beautiful with five small stars connected to one very bright star, you looked at Elendil and smirked.

“Telumendil huh? I have a sneaky suspicion that means something close to your own name.”

“Well your not wrong, it means ‘Lover of the Heavens’

You smiled to yourself as you saw the last of the suns light recede away and the moon started to show more clearly. 

“Such a beautiful sight.” He said looking out onto the ocean. You snuck a glance out of the corner of your eye to look up at him and smiled to yourself as you thought that he was actually what made the night even more beautiful. 

-

After an hour you felt yourself starting to feel a bit drowsy as you wiped your eyes trying to keep them open. Elendil had noticed you yawn and gestured for you to go downstairs to retire for the night.

“Oh no, I’ll be alright. I still have so much writings to record. Besides someone needs to keep a look out.”

“Y/n, your chilled and clearly need rest. I’ll have one of the others to join me to finish up for you.”

You hated when he was right, you trying to recount everything for the records and history of those who would come after. You felt it was your only way to keep those who had died back in Numenor from being forgotten. You leaned down and grabbed the journal you had earlier and nodded to him in agreement. You were starting to feel your exhaustion coming along quicker than you expected as you grasped the side of the railing. Suddenly you felt two arms around you, one at your shoulders and one under your legs lifting you into a bridal style. You couldn’t help but gasp at the gesture as you turned your gaze up to him with a small blush on your cheeks, secretly you were thankful the night was hiding it.

“There’s no need for that Elendil. I’ll be alright to get to my room on my own.”

“It’s alright Y/n, besides you’ve been up for three days straight. Better safe than sorry.”

You simply nodded in agreement as you walked both of you down the stairs. You felt so warm being held by him in such a way. You could smell the scent of sea salt on him but also a hint of pine which made you sigh a bit making your whole body become more and more relaxed. Even in your groggy state though you had sensed that you both at reached the side of the far back room as you felt him sliding the door away. Elendil saw the room was filled with unfinished scrolls and books open with notes written in the margin. Even some of the candles you had lit earlier still dripped some wax onto the small desk you usually would be found at. The bed to the far right was perhaps the only thing not covered in work.

“Hard at work I see?”

You lightly tapped at his chest but you were too tired to even come up with a remark. In truth you had wished you knew he would ever see your room, if you had you would have cleaned it up. You felt him walk over to the side of the bed lowering you down into the soft sheets as he look the journal from your hand and placed it on the nearby nightstand and the quill back in the inkwell. Elendil turned to face you to see that your breathing was slower and a bit steadier knowing that soon you really would be asleep for the night. He sighed at the sight of your sleeping form. He looked down at your feet and gently took off the boots you wore and placed them down by the side of the bed and unpinned the heavy cloak from your back and draped it over your lower body knowing it would keep you warmer that way.

“Get some rest Y/n”

He said as he stood up and was about to blow the nearby candle out but was stopped by you gently taking a hold of his hand that was at his side.

“Elendil...How have you kept your faith?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gave you a slightly puzzled look.

“During the great wave?”

You shook your head.

“No I mean now...Our home is now nothing but ruin, Your sons are so far away from you and the people are looking to you everyday for guidance. How...how have you not lost faith?”

He was silent for a moment before he spoke looking down at you.

“Tar-Miriel told me once that the faithful must suffer many losses as a test. I thought years ago I had lost my son when we first ventured to Middle Earth. I thought right then and there that my faith had failed me. But when he returned. I understood what she meant when she said that. Even her last words to you were of complete faith that our home would survive.”

He looked down at you and smiled to himself at the sight before him. Your hair was pressed into the pillow with your arms across your torso loosely as the sleep in your eyes could not hide the beauty of your own. It was always his eyes that captivated him every time he saw you. He enjoyed your company far more than many and felt a way around you that he had not felt in a long time. He took his hand to lay on top of yours and smiled to you.

“I have you Y/n...Not many are lucky enough to have someone like you with them.”

You gave a weak smiled as you felt your body relax more and more into the bed. You squeezed his hand in yours and spoke once more before you truly were taken by sleep.

“You always....will.”

Elendil smiled to himself as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead taking a moment to himself as he carefully moved his hand from yours and took a gentle grasp on the blankets to the side and covered you. He sat off the bed and stood up to walk over the desk and snuffed out the rest of the candles as he walked over to the doorway and looked over at your sleeping form once more before gently closing the door.

-

You felt your body gently being nudged as you opened your eyes to see Elendil’s silver ones meeting yours. 

“Y/n... We’ve landed”

Your eyes went wide as you quickly stood up from the bed walking past him forgetting about your shoes as you walked up the stairs and saw the ship had indeed anchored to see deep woods stretched over the mountains to see the others walking off the ship as the families wept with joy knowing they had arrived safety. You turned to Elendil and couldn’t help but smile at him as you walked you off the ship. You smiled as you felt the sand underneath your feet as birds flew above you whistling as the warmth from the sun made your skin feel warm even against the cold sea breeze. You turned around to Elendil smiling at the fact that after reaching shore after an extremely harrowing past few days/weeks. Suddenly you saw him step onshore and collapse to his knees on the sand, utterly exhausted. 

You kneeled next to him and saw him bring a hand to his eyes and you saw him weeping. You took your arms around his neck and held him close. You knew what he was feeling, everything that had happened and the stress of it all had hit him. You gently spoke his name and as you rubbed small circles on his back. After a few moments, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as you saw him slowly compose himself. You stood back from him and offered a hand. 

“I’m here with you...” He looked at your hand and took it to as you helped him stand. You smiled as you held his hand  a bit tighter as you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek causing him to look down at you. He was given no time to process what had just happened before you walked off to help the others. All he could do was smile at the realization that he had a chance to be with you.

[renee-writer]

April 15th Chapter Thirty-five

AO3

The report shatters any hope of peace. Archduke Ferdinand is assassinated. A war that will eventually overtake most of the known world has begun.

 

“You and the bairns will be fine, no matter what. Da will see to you.” Jamie tells Claire.

 

“Certainly it will be contained.”  He squeezes her hand.

 

“Perhaps cooler heads will prevail. But with Germany getting involved, I fear it is only a matter of time before Britain must take a stand.”

 

A week later with the involvement of France, his prediction comes true, when British forces land in France.

 

“We may not be called up.” Ian argues. The three young man, sit with Brian, discussing next steps.

 

“Just so. Why rush to join the fight?” William agrees.

 

“I don’t want to do this any more then you guys do. I would rather stay here, at Lallybroch and raise my babies. But,” he shakes his head, “the world isn’t allowing that. We can wait or we can take our place in defense of our country. As Fraser and Murray men,” a nod to Ian, “ I believe we know what needs done.”

 

“Aye son. I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Brian adds, “No, I don’t want to see my sons go off to war.  That said, this family preforms their duty, without complaint or hesitation. You know I will see to Jenny, Mary, Claire, and the children.”

 

“Maybe this war will be short.” Ian offers. They all pray so.

 

He holds his children close.

 

“You will look after your mama and brother and sister while I am gone?” Fergus nods, manly holding in his tears.

 

“Aye Papa.”

 

Faith, but a year old, rests against his chest. His son’s are against his legs. Claire bits her lip with tears streaming down her face. In other rooms, Ian and William are saying goodbye to their families.

 

“We shall pray for you and our uncles everyday.” Quinton says.

 

“Every minute.” Claire adds.

 

He kisses his daughter’s head. He longs to memorize her sweet baby smell, knowing that when he returns, she will be a completely new person. That all his children will be.

 

“I love you so much.” He swallows, “so very much. Lads, you write us, letting us know all.  It shall help with your penmanship.”

 

Teary giggles. Both lads have trouble with calligraphy.

 

“We shall papa.”

 

“You Faith Ellen, please try not to change to much.” His first tears fall then. She frowns and touches his face.

 

“Dada?”

 

“He is sad.” Her mama says. She holds her own coming weeping back until she is alone, needing to be strong for her children.

 

They are saying goodbye at Lallybroch. A train station farewell is unfathomable. She wants to remember him here, not leaving for war.

 

They made frantic love several times last night and once this morning. Their bodies saying what words alone, can’t express.

 

It is time. With Faith in her arms and her sons pressed against her, they say goodbye to Jamie.

 

“On your way soldier. Hurry back to us.”

[softquietsteadylove]

We need a little humor fic on Thenamesh Pokémon au! A Pokémon kidnapping Gil because she thinks he is so cute and hast to be hers. Would be funny!

Love your prompts btw keep going! You are doing amazing ❤️

Thena's jaw dropped--it dropped like a baby Skarmory plummeting from its nest for the first time. "G-Gil?!"

"Thena!" he choked out from within the grips of his captors. "Help!"

But he was in the middle of a nest of Bewear--physically, probably one of the strongest pokemon breeds in the world. The only reason he hadn't been crushed was because they were obviously fond of him.

Thena was already on her way over when she felt Gallade's hand(?) on her shoulder. She looked up at her battle partner, "but-"

"Gallade," it shook its head, expressing his need to protect her. Even with its fighting/psychic typing, it just wasn't wise to barge in on a pack of Bewear. And frankly, it knew that if it came between its trainer and Ranger Gil, it would be picking Thena.

"We can't just leave him like this," Thena waved her hands at Gil, being held rather tightly by one Bewear in particular, hugging and petting him like a stray it had found and taken in.

She had actually been called specifically because Gil hadn't reported after his last area check, and the ranger station had called her to investigate his last known location. They had every faith that she could take on the very friendly - but also very dangerous - breed of pokemon. And she had every faith in her ability to do so.

Although she had left Teddiursa at home with Ninetales, just in case.

"Gallade?" he leaned down to ask her what the plan was. They were still at enough of a distance that the adorable/terrifying pokmeon weren't considering them a threat...yet.

"I'm thinking you and Froslass," Thena whispered back, pulling up the other luxury ball attached to her belt. Her long shirt-dress billowed around her, unbuttoned over her white shorts underneath.

"Gal?" it asked, looking around at the sheer number of pokemon around them, even those not interested in keeping Gil like a pet.

"You're right, it's way too many," Thena agreed, letting Froslass out of her luxury ball as quietly as possible.

"Fross?" it tilted its head at her, not used to being confined to the pokeball, even outside of the house.

"I need you to start some snow for us," Thena whispered, pointing to the pack of Beware. "Boost your defense, give Gallade some cover for a sneak attack."

"Froslass," she nodded. The ghost/ice type was already fond of Gil (and had even met him under circumstances similar to these).

"We're only here to get Gil out safely," Thena instructed her pokemon before unleashing them. "We're not here to finish this fight. As soon as we can run, we're going to."

They nodded.

"Go!"

Gil looked around him, trying not to panic from within the arms of the Bewear. Thena was always telling him that if he kept wandering right up to wild pokemon he was going to get himself into trouble one day.

Powdered snow started falling in the immediate area. The Bewear all looked around them, most of them unfamiliar with the climate given their borderline tropical preference in forest territory.

Thena crept from tree to tree, watching as Gallade used its speed to get in close and hypnotise all the Bewear it could in as short a time as possible. She knew that he had assumed she would hang back and let them handle things, but she never said expressly that she would. She crept around the tree and whispered, "Gil!"

Gil's voice was muffled as the female Bewear hugged him closer.

"No, no, please!" Thena held out her hands, watching as Gil started to gasp for breath. "Just...gentle...with him."

"Bee?" the pink pokemon looked at Thena curiously. At the very least, it didn't seem to have a particularly aggressive nature.

"I'm his friend," Thena placed a hand on her chest, trying to offer some humility to the frighteningly strong pokemon in front of her. She crept closer as subtly as possible. "I'm here to take him home--please."

"Bewear," the pokemon pouted, cuddling Gil against its fur again. She was very determined that her claim on Gil was inarguable. After all, she was the one who had found him wandering around on his own. And he was awfully cute. "Be-Bewear."

"I know he's cute," Thena said before she could really stop to think about it. Her eyes caught Gil's for just a second before she looked at Bewear again, feeling warmth rush to her cheeks. "But he has to go back to the ranger centre."

"Bewear?" it turned to her, still holding Gil (but slowly and surely loosening her grip).

Gil gasped for breath as if he'd been underwater.

"Yes," Thena nodded, still trying to reach for him, "he's very important to me."

Bewear loosened its grip on Gil. It looked down at him, holding him out between its paws the way a child would examine a pokedoll. It looked at him, and then at Thena. "Be...wear?"

Thena groaned in the back of her throat. This was a serious--in many ways, it could escalate to a life or death situation. But to be humiliated by a wild pokemon; "yes, he's...mine."

The Strong Arm pokemon looked between them again before her ears drooped, accepting that she couldn't very well keep a pet that already belonged to someone else. "Bewear."

"Thank you," Thena brightened, accepting Gil with open arms as he stumbled against her. "It's very sweet of you to let him go."

"Wear," the pokemon waved her paw at them, telling them to leave before her bad mood got the better of her.

"Gil, can you walk?" Thena whispered, although Gil was swaying on his feet and looking a little light headed. Probably not, "Gallade?"

Her partner appeared, ever faithful and trusty. He didn't look particularly pleased, but he was there, "Gal?"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she apologised for the worry she knew she had caused him, "but please. Gil can't walk home like this."

"Gallade," he sighed, picking Gil up on his back and nudging Thena along.

"Froslass?" Thena called out, assured when her mischievous ghost appeared next to her, only for the blink of an eye. But it was enough, "let's get home."

"Thena?" Gil groaned from Gallade's back, head swimming and only further confused by finding a pack of Bewear asleep on the ground with snow falling around them. "What happened?"

Thena smiled up at him, patting his arm as they made their way back to clearer pastures. "Don't worry, we've got you. A young Bewear took a liking to you, but we got you out."

Gil sighed, "of course you did."

Thena kept an eye on him, settling against Gallade's back again (much to her partner's chagrin). "H-How much do you remember?"

"Mm," Gil hummed with his eyes still closed. "I lost it a little bit in the middle there. I remember you negotiating with Bewear like a pro. How'd you convince her to let me go?"

Thena, despite Gil's closed eyes, still looked around the other side of the path as she blushed, "just...told her it wasn't nice to keep people who already have a home."

"Hm," Gil nodded, only half absorbing what she was saying.

Gallade rolled his eyes. How much was one pokemon expected to endure of his own trainer flirting (not well, but flirting all the same).

[sisterssafespace]

Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatahu sister. Jazakallah khair for creating such a beautiful account where sisters can communicate their problems with each other without revealing their identity. Subhanallah! What a technological world we live in! I hope you are okay.

You have also helped me a lot in the past when I had certain doubts and had no person to consult to. Thank you for that. May Allah swt put baraka in your time. Ameen.

I am in my 20's and I wanted to ask this very serious and very very important question to you sister that how am I suppose to find a potential spouse, a husband ?

The problem with me is that I sit in my room 24/7 as my uni classes are off while day dreaming about my "future hubby" that how he is gonna be like? And I often find myself falling into this deception that it's all in my mind. I get scared sometimes and ask Allah swt in sujood to grant me caring pious husband who will be a blessing for me and not a trial. I believe in Allah swt's plan and I have my trust strong too. But sometimes I feel like may be there is no such husband exists (what am I asking for). May be I should stay single and live with my mother and sisters forever (as I love them little too much)

I often find myself asking the question that how am I gonna live without my family once I'm married. Obviously I want both, my family and husband. I am the youngest in my family and my mother spoiled me a lot. But i promise you I'm not a brat. :"D

I also get recommended proposals by my oldest sisi (who is alhamdulillah married) but I back off immediately from that decision of getting married.

Please if you help me out then may be I can start looking for those particular qualities in a husband.

P.s: I am also kinda a bit insecure about the idea of getting married because I have a hearing disability which i didn't had in the past. I got it few years ago due to getting multiple surgies. (Long story short) Now I wear hearing aids. :( My mum often asks me "Who's gonna marry you?" (Not in an offensive way but caring)

I am sorry for frying your brain cells. Stay safe sis.

و عليكم السلام و رحمة اللّٰه و بركاته 🍃

Please please please kindly accept my apology for the delay 🥺🥺

* hugs *

Okay so, I received both asks, read them thoroughly and here are the ideas that gathered in my mind while I read:

a) Patience: Allahuma barik you sound like you have strong faith and that you do trust in Allah's plan, with that trust you need to work on your patience habibty, patience is onr of the most challenging and the toughest skills we have to learn in this duniya, and that is why the reward for the patient is priceless. As human beings in general ( and dreamy girls ) we sometimes want things to happen to us right now, especially if you add in some peer pressure or societal pressure, and the frustration starts to build up .. but it won't solve anything, it will only stress you more. Again, one of the greatest tests we are put through is learning how to building patient and waiting for our rizq, because a spouse is in fact a rizq for the believer, a gift and a blessing from Allah swt, and your rizq will never miss you, in the sense that what is written for you will never go to someone else, what is yours will find you.. which takes me to the second point:

b) Allah's timing: You did mention that you believe in Allah's plan, now you have to also believe in Allah's timing, because yes in deed Allah swt knows what's best for us and has a plan for us, but His divine plan works according to His divine timing, not our humanly timing. An event will happen to you WHEN Allah swt decides that that's the right time for it to happen.. and very often, we don't understand the timeframe, we don't understand why things aren't happening for us right now or why Allah swt is not giving us what we asked and prayed for right now, but when it eventually happens, we'll understand, but for now all we have to do is remain patient, and pray that in shaa Allah it will be worth the wait.

While we remain patient, what can we do? This is my point c:

c) Work on Building and accomplishing other aspects of your life meanwhile: Meaning, while you are waiting to meet the one, you have other things to work on, because the life of a Muslim girl - a slave of Allah swt - is more than just a husband and marriage, you have to work on yourself, learn more and more about our rich religion, if you have learned the Quran Allahuma barik you can learn tafseer or Hadith or other islamic sciences, you can learn things related to your studies or your career, you can learn some interpersonal skills, a new language, develop other skills like cooking or drawing or crocheting or anything you like.. if you're still studying maybe work hard in that, engage in the civil activities, serve your community, be present in your masjid, there is just so much you can do, and it will take your focus on the husband issue all while making you a better person in shaa Allah..

d) The qualities: As for the qualities that should be in a good husband, that is sorta subjective honey, for example, what I would consider as a good quality might not be of preference for you. But there are some characteristics that are universally sought I think: honesty, commitment, empathy, compassion, devotion - all with a good sense of the deen in shaa Allah.

p.s. personal tip: choose someone you don't feel bored around, someone you don't have a problem spending a sick day in bed with, and most importantly someone who makes you feel safe, because the world is scary enough, tiring enough, at least you get to go home to someone who would know how to comfort you and ease your anxieties..

Last but not least, about the hearing thing, I am sorry you feel like it's a defect, it is in fact something that Allah swt gave you as a challenge, you can definitely make it a strength my dear, someone who really appreciates you will think of it as a strength, like " oh MashaAllah look at her, she is still shining and making her way through life even with that challenge.. she is such a strong amazing girl.. " which, you absolutely are!

Look honey, you are what you make of yourself and what you make of what you have. If you treat or perceive yourself as incomplete, if you carry yourself as if something is wrong with you then that's the image people will get about you, but if you carry yourself with all the content and the confidence of someone who is relying on and trusting Allah swt then that's going to be radiating around you 🤍

So I pray that Allah swt ties upon your heart and strengthen your heart to be able to patiently wait for what's written for you, and I pray Allah swt grant you the pious humble gentle kind romantic devoted compassionate husband you dream of 🤍

We can have a further conversation my dear, I just rushed the answer because I know you are waiting for the reply, but please let me know what you think,

- A.Z. 🤍🍃

[lover-of-mine]

You know how would've could've should've has a lot of religious imagery and specifically losing faith? I was listening to half of my heart earlier (i do feel bad i like this song but Taylor is in so) and there's this line "Your faith is strong but I can only fall short for so long" in it. Do you think she referred to him as a "crisis of her faith" because her faith was strong before she met him?

[sleepless-crows]

Half of my Heart by John Mayer

Your faith is strong

But I can only fall short for so long

Would've Could've Should've by Taylor Swift

You're a crisis of my faith

[grandsonoflightike]

Grey Three Houses/Hopes P2:  Reveal of Shadow Shez

Background Music Announcement: The Long Road [Inferno]  from Fire Emblem - Three Hopes.

*The Next Day All 3 House Leaders Lead their Kingdoms To the Next battlefield toward The Middle of Fodlan. Soon Enough Shadow Edelgard, Shadow Monica, and Shadow Byleth ran into Shadow Shez.*

Shadow Shez: Finally Found You, The Shadow brother of the Ashen Demon.

Shadow Edelgard: The Ashen Demon?

Shadow Byleth: Grey Bileth.  She is our enemy too as she works for The Light Kingdom but if you want go fight her, you must fight with us to convince the Light Leicester Alliance to aid us.

Shadow Shez: Agreeable. The only question is your father with her?

Shadow Byleth: No, he is with the Light Leicester Alliance.  Why?

Shadow Edelgard: I didn't know that.  Why is he with them?

Shadow Byleth: He couldn't bring himself to side with either of his kids.

Shadow Shez: Interesting.

Music Change Announcement: Apex Of The World (Inferno) Mashup by The Muses Mire

*Somewhere in Light Gloucester Territory...*

Count Light Gloucester: I fear I may have miscalculated, my son.

Light Lorenz: How can that be possible, Father? We have the enemy surrounded.

Count Light Gloucester: Yes, and they have yet to give a damn. Time grows short, and soon Edelgard's reinforcements will descend upon the Alliance.

Light Lorenz: Then we will hold them off at the Great Bridge!

Count Light Gloucester: And they will find another way. If they manage to take even one of the Light Airmid River's crossings, they can break through our ranks. And while they may spell immediate defeat, it will dash any hopes of Count Shadow Bergliez's surrender. Eventually, Shadow Edelgard's army will wash over the land. And then, my son, we will be defeated.

Light Lorenz: Speak plain, Father, I beg of you. What does this mean for House Gloucester?

Count Light Gloucester: Do not fret, Lorenz. This was a leap of faith we had to take to better our territory's fortunes. When Light Claude came to me with this offer, I determined the reward to be worth the risk. If the gambit fails, so be it. All it means is that our house will have to swear allegiance to the Shadow Empire.

Light Lorenz: Shadow Edelgard will never settle for such. She will demand... Oh, Father. No!

Count Light Gloucester: I am proud of you, my son. You have grown into a man strong and wise enough to lead our house.

Light Lorenz: Is there nothing that can be done? What of your dream to claim the Light Alliance leadership from House Light Riegan?

Count Light Gloucester: It is your house now--you determine our path. Besides, when the dust finally settles from this war, there may not be a Light Alliance to lead.

Light Lorenz: So I am to submit to the Empire and carve out as big a place for our family as I can? Is that it? You would have me put an end to the Light Leicester Alliance?!

Count Light Gloucester: Perhaps my praise of your wisdom was ill-advised. You get ahead of yourself, Lorenz. We bend the knee only if we lose--not before. And as you said, we may yet be able to drive back the emperor's reinforcements and win the day. Always think two steps ahead, my son. Be clever. Survive. That is the lesson I seek to impart.

Light Lorenz: ...

Count Light Gloucester: I had best go prepare for my final battle as Count Gloucester. However this plays out, look for a way for our house to prosper and seize it, Lorenz. Seize it! That is how Erwin Fritz Gloucester fights, and it is how you must fight as well!

*At Shadow Imperial Camp, Shadow Edelgard meets with her commanders.*

Shadow Edelgard: Well, we managed to slog our way to the encampment. Now we just have to finalize our plan.

Shadow Shez: Why is it so important to hold part of the Grey Airmid riverbank again? I mean, wouldn't it make more sense to cross over into Light Alliance territory before it's too late?

Shadow Hubert: If we do, we risk the enemy cutting off our retreat. We are here to break their siege, not fall prey to one.

Shadow Edelgard: If we don't conduct this rescue carefully, we'll be worse off than we started. We must be smart. And that means establishing at least one bridgehead in addition to the Great Bridge of Light Myrddin.

Shadow Shez: Yeah, OK. That makes sense.

Shadow Petra: The minister is a general of much endurance. He will be holding out until we arrive. He is more than a warrior and a maker of strategies. It would lack wisdom to be making an enemy of him.

Shadow Caspar: Yep, that's my father! No one can beat him! I just hope I can be half the warrior he is one day.

Shadow Linhardt: I think even one and a half Bergliezes would be more than enough. Not that it's any of my business.

Shadow Ferdinand: So what are we to do about House Gloucester? They have indicated a willingness to swear fealty for whatever that pittance of a promise is worth. That leaves only Light Phlegethon and Light Ordelia, and I doubt very much that anyone would take us to task for dismantling them.

Shadow Hubert: The head of House Light Ordelia is one of the Five Great Lords. Dismantling them, as you say, would hamper Her Majesty's ability to rule effectively in the future. Consider, for example, why we chose not to dismantle House Shadow Aegir.

Shadow Ferdinand: Because I belong to House Aegir and you do not have to! Ah, of course. You are happy so long as they install successors who are willing to toe the line.

Shadow Hubert: That is the plan, yes. House Shadow Phlegethon, however, must be disposed of. Their lord, Light Acheron, has leveraged his control of the Great Bridge to do whatever he well pleases. I have a suspicion the Light Alliance desires him gone as badly as we do.

Shadow Monica: Light Lorenz Gloucester and Light Lysithea von Ordelia were Her Majesty's schoolmates, yes? They may be more willing to listen to reason than the others.

Shadow Dorothea: Sure, but Light Claude went to the Officers Academy too. And he's taken a firm stance against the Shadow Empire. Do you really think this can be handled via diplomacy?

Shadow Hubert: That will depend on precisely what their demands are. But first, we must retake the Great Light Bridge and extricate Count Light Bergliez and his troops. Let us focus our energies on that for the time being.

Shadow Edelgard: Agreed. And it would behoove us all not to overlook how devious Light Claude can be just because we went to the academy together. If he's not willing to come the table, I won't hesitate to meet him on the battlefield instead.

Shadow Shez: I won't hold back either. Sometimes you have to kill old friends in this line of work. That's just how it is.

At Northern Bergliez Territory, Shadow Adrestian Empire Camp On first visit

Shadow Ferdinand: Did you hear the news, Shadow Shez?

*After talking to the Shadow Tactics Instructor*

Shadow Shez: Tactics are essential to any victory. I should keep them in mind as I prepare.

*Shadow Shez Listens to Shadow Edelgard.*

Shadow Edelgard: What occurred was truly regrettable--I should have seen through Count Light Gloucester's duplicity. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say I misjudged the man's ambition. He prizes his people above all, and we created a situation where he wanted to fight. I will need to reflect on that.

*Shadow Shez talks To Shadow Hubert*

Shadow Hubert: Count Light Bergliez is a beast of a man, and one with a keen sense for traps. Yet for him to not smell betrayal? Well, I have little choice but to praise Count Light5 Gloucester's deception.

Shadow Shez: We have to be careful, if so. Nobles don't tend to miss a step, and they don't leave themselves open.

Shadow Hubert: Particularly true in the case of those who possess experience and competency in equal measure, such as Count Light Gloucester.

*Shadow Shez talks to Shadow Ferdinand*

Shadow Ferdinand: We now have a research station that provides opportunities for intensive training. Everyone simply must partake of it. Go on, you ought to have a look as well! Also Have you heard of a man named Light Acheron? He is the head of House Light Phlegethon, who rules over the Great Bridge of Light Myrddin. At first he pledged loyalty to Shadow  Adrestia, but no sooner did the man hear about Count Light Gloucester's actions than did he betray us and surrender the bridge. It takes quite the opportunist to change camps as easily as some change their clothes!

*Shadow Shez Talks To Shadow Linhardt.*

Shadow Linhardt: I understand there's a war on here, but we're all being worked like plow horses. Still, I suppose it can't be helped if our allies are in danger of annihilation. It would be a terrible waste of effort if we weren't able to assist them--so let us endeavor to ensure we can do so.

Shadow Shez: we'll give it everything we've got!

*Shadow Shez Talks To Shadow Caspar.*

Shadow Caspar: I know I don't have to worry about my father. I mean, he's Count Shadow Bergliez! He's invincible! Still, nothing's a guarantee on the battlefield, and I can't shake these thoughts of what might happen.]

Shadow Shez: Cheer up, Shadow Caspar! We're gonna save him!

Shadow Caspar: yeah, you're right--and we'll do it together! Thanks for that. I'll try to think positive!

*Shadow Shez talks to Shadow Bernadetta.*

Shadow Bernadetta: Am I gonna end up surrounded and killed in enemy territory like Count Shadow Bergliez someday?!

Shadow Shez: I wouldn't go carving his tombstone just yet.

Shadow Bernadetta: Sorry, you're right. That's probably bad luck, huh? But I'm still worried!

Shadow Shez: Don't worry--I'll make sure you never get surrounded like that. I've broken through plenty of sieges in my day.

Shadow Bernadetta: Really? I'm glad to hear that.

*Shadow Shez talks to Shadow Petra.*

Shadow Petra: I have a mixing of emotions. Count Shadow Bergliez is the man who was attacking Shadow Dagda and Shadow Brigid. And now this same man is being overrun by the Light Alliance army. I will never be allowing the man who defeated Shadow Brigid to die in this place!

Shadow Shez: So from Brigid's perspective, he's someone you have a grudge against. Do you want him to live anyway?

Shadow Petra: Yes, this is my feeling. It would be shameful for him to be perishing here. Doing so would give me much sadness.

*Shadow Shez Talks to Shadow Monica.*

Shadow Monica: Our army rushed over here to Alliance territory, and I'm worried about the situation in the Kingdom. And yes, we have a reasonable amount of forces left, as well as whatever General Randolph has, but...

Shadow Shez: It'd be bad news if the Knights of Grey Seiros attacked us. I mean, we still haven't fought their major players yet.

Shadow Monica: Right? They're the leading army of Fódlan--the best of the best!

*Shadow Shez Talks to Grey Constance.*

Grey Constance: Ahaha! You appear to be quite the excellent mercenary, my friend! I see there was no mistake in my asking you to participate in my research! I hope we continue enjoying a fruitful relationship.

Shadow Shez: Uh, do I not get to choose?

*Shadow Shez talks to Grey Hapi.*

Grey Hapi: Psst! You may be aware of this already, but the Shadow Bert can be cruel.

Shadow Shez: You mean Shadow Hubert?

Grey Hapi: Yeah--but you know, it's fine. It's a long story. Plus, I owe him for that business under Garreg Mach.

Shadow Shez: Are you saying this because you want me to complain to Hubert?

Grey Hapi: Nah, I'm fine. I appreciate it though.

*Shadow Shez talks to Grey Manuela.*

Grey Manuela: Fódlan is certainly growing turbulent. During such times, it's not unusual to see various schemers appear and try to turn the chaos to their own advantage. There are a number of young generals in this army, so people like myself and Grey Hanneman... Well, we have to be extra careful.

*Shadow Shez Talks to Grey Hanneman.*

Grey Hanneman: We were most artfully deceived by Count Light Gloucester! The count is Light Lorenz's father, you know? And Light Manuela was in charge of his class, the Golden Deer. It is undoubtedly depressing to have to fight one's former student.

*Shadow Shez Talks to Shadow Jeritza.*

Shadow Jeritza: Hrym is close.

Shadow Shez: Hrym... Where have I heard that before?

Shadow Jeritza: Not your business. But it has been decided that I am the house's scion.

Shadow Shez: Wait, so you weren't born to House Hrym?

Shadow Jeritza: No. Ask the emperor if you want details.

*Shadow Shez Then Talks to Shadow Ladislava.*

Shadow Ladislava: My apologies, but a portion of the responsibility for losing the Great Bridge of Light Myrddin falls to me. I was late in noticing that our communication had been cut off from Grey Garreg Mach. When we fight to retake the bridge, I will assume the vanguard and see my name cleared.

*Shadow Shez talks to Grey Anna.*

Grey Anna: Things are looking rough, which means it's time for me to do some business. But don't worry! I'm not some war profiteer who prioritizes money over what's right. Oh, can you say hi to the emperor for me?

*Shadow Shez talks to Shadow Arval.*

Shadow Arval: Circumstances dictate how people act. As such, I believe things are about to get much more difficult for you. Though perhaps that will be a welcome change for a mercenary of your caliber. You will undoubtedly face the Ashen Demon again. I do hope you'll emerge victorious this time.

*Shadow Shez Talks To Grey Gatekeeper.*

Gatekeeper: Greetings, Commander! Nothing to report! Oh, wait. One thing to report--the situation with the Light Alliance in the north seems really bad. I sure hope that gets sorted soon. And if nothing else, I hope everyone comes home safe.

*Shadow Shez Talks To Shadow Tactics Instructor.*

Shadow Tactics Instructor: Here we research the latest and greatest tactics ever to grace the field of battle. If our findings pique your interest, I would be delighted to assist you. How about it?

*Shadow Edelgard meets with Shadow Hubert at camp.*

Shadow Edelgard: What did your investigation uncover, Hubert?

Shadow Hubert: It appears those who shadow slither in the dark had nothing to do with any of this. This plot was hatched by Houses Light Riegan and Light Gloucester alone.

Shadow Edelgard: In other words, we know exactly where the idea to encircle our troops came from. Light Claude von Riegan, leader of the Light Alliance.

Shadow Hubert: He is going to be a true thorn in our side now that he is in charge. Back when Duke Light Riegan had no clear heir, the lords were busy maneuvering to be next in line. Then Light Claude appeared in an instant and laid claim to the seat of power. We were hoping that would be enough to throw the Light Alliance into disarray, but he has done a remarkable job of seizing the reins.

Shadow Edelgard: Feigning discord with Light Gloucester while they privately schemed together was an especially nice touch. Sadly, it seems we're facing a gifted tactician as well as a skilled leader.

Light Hubert: Yet for a tactician, he woefully underestimated Count Shadow Bergliez. I say we finish his education. It is time Light Claude learns the gulf between his power and the Empire's cannot be bridged with a few clever tricks.

*Shadow Shez Discovered Light Fodlan Anna.*

Light Fodlan Anna: Oh, did you need something from my shop? Sorry, but I can't open it up here. Mind if I set up shop in your camp? You won't regret it! My goods are the best-kept secret for miles!

*At Great Bridge of Grey Myrddin, Shadow Empire Side, Shadow Edelgard meets with her commanders.*

Shadow Edelgard: We'll reach the Great Bridge of Grey Myrddin soon. Houses Light Phlegethon and Light Gloucester are defending it, just as we anticipated. but Shadow Ladislava has done her job and broken through the enemy line for us. I intend to claim a swift victory and return her to us whole.

Shadow Hubert: If possible, the members of House Light Gloucester are to be taken alive. As we discussed previously, killing them will jeopardize Her Majesty's ability to rule effectively.

Shadow Edelgard: If any enemy commanders appear open to persuasion, try to convince them to surrender. Our goal here is not to utterly annihilate our foes. The fewer casualties, the better. That said, anyone who refuses to submit must be struck down without mercy.

Shadow Petra: I know when to catch and when to kill. I am often being faced with such decisions on the hunt.

Shadow Bernadetta: Y-you expect me to make that kind of decision in the heat of battle?

Shadow Linhardt: You just do what you always do, Shadow Bernadetta. If it's all right with you, I'd prefer to focus on the diplomacy part. I'm not much for bloodshed.

Shadow Ferdinand: Then you may leave that part to me. I will happily deal with any soldiers you cannot. It should be a simple enough matter to determine which of our enemies wishes to live and which will choose the way of death.

Shadow Dorothea: We'd better not misjudge anyone, or else our lives will be the ones in danger.

Shadow Caspar: Then we should fight first and ask questions later. When in doubt, take 'em out! Am I right? We can sweat the small stuff when the battle's over. Until then, I'll do what I do best!

Shadow Monica: I believe we should all do what we do best. If we do, I feel confident we will emerge on top when the dust settles.

Shadow Shez: Victory is the most important thing, so leave the vanguard to me.

Shadow Edelgard: Then if everyone is prepared, let us show them the might of the Empire!

*At start of battle*

Shadow Edelgard: They certainly aren't fooling around with these defenses. Count Gloucester must be located on the far bank. Shadow Ladislava is holding the central checkpoint. We'll mount our attack from there.

Shadow Hubert: The checkpoint is our key to taking the Great Bridge. Without it, we have not even a slim hope of victory.

Shadow Ladislava: Her Majesty is counting on me, and I will not let her down!

Shadow Ferdinand: They have her surrounded! Time for a rescue!

Shadow Edelgard: If we rush in heedlessly, we'll be trapped along with her. We must secure the route as we go.

Shadow Bernadetta: Never hurts to have a safe place to retreat to!

*Shadow Ferdinand approaches the Islet Fortress before capturing the Southern Bridge Landing or either of the Bridge Bulwarks.*

Shadow Hubert: It takes a trickster to recognize a trick, and the enemy is being suspiciously quiet in the west. As urgent as it is to retake the checkpoint, I believe the west should be dealt with first.

*If the Islet Fortress is seized before the Southern Bridge Landing and both of the Bridge Bulwarks...*

Shadow Monica: The western area has been subdued.

Light Ignatz: The enemy is here? How did they catch on to us?

*Light Ignatz appears at the Islet Ballista.*

Light Ignatz: No! Their main force was supposed to head to the checkpoint so we could ambush them! Intercept! Intercept!

*Light Ignatz fires upon the Imperial army with the ballista.*

Shadow Hubert: We were wise to strike west first--I fear it would have been a disaster otherwise.

Shadow Ferdinand: What say we take that ballista for our own?

*When Shadow Shez approaches Light Ignatz…*

Light Ignatz: I chose to be here, and I'm going to fight the Shadow Empire to the end!

*When Light Ignatz's HP reach <= 50%*

Light Ignatz: If I stand down now, I'll never be able to face the others again.

*When Light Ignatz is defeated…*

Shadow Monica: How do you know unless you keep living? I mean, things like this tend to have a way of working themselves out, you know?

Light Ignatz: I guess so, but... All right, I surrender.

Shadow Ferdinand: The arrows have stopped. Let us proceed.

*When the Southern Bridge Landing and both of the Bridge Bulwarks are seized…*

Shadow Monica: We're almost to the checkpoint. Keep going.

Grey Balthus: Not so fast! If you want through, you gotta open those purses and pay the toll!

Shadow Linhardt: Of all the irritating places to lay an ambush...

Shadow Edelgard: This man is a mercenary--perhaps offering a reward will allow us to avoid a fight.

*When Grey Constance approaches Grey Balthus…*

Grey Constance: Have your senses taken flight, Balthus? How dare you raise a weapon at us!

Grey Balthus: Mind your business! I got a debt to work off!

*When Grey Balthus' HP reach <= 50%...*

Grey Balthus: Just so you know, I got no interest in dying.

*When Grey Balthus is defeated…*

Shadow Shez: Then just surrender. Besides, you're a clever man. You know the Shadow Empire won't let someone as strong as you rot in a cell.

Grey Balthus: Yeah, I guess you got a point.

Grey Hapi: I am glad you didn’t have to die.

Grey Balthus: You glad because of me not dying? How Mysterious.

*When Shadow Shez approaches Shadow Ladislava*

Shadow Ladislava: My thanks. Mind taking it from here?

*When the Brawlers attacking Shadow Ladislava are defeated…*

Shadow Edelgard: Rest, Shadow Ladislava. This is a great achievement.

Shadow Ladislava: You honor me, Your Majesty! May victory be yours this day! retreats

Shadow Hubert: Now we can fight on even footing.

*When Light Acheron and his subordinates appear…*

Light Acheron: Those are my lands at the other end of this bridge, and you lot are not welcome!

Shadow Hubert: Now there is a fool even by Light Alliance standards. Let us do them a favor and introduce him to an early grave.

Light Acheron: Listen up, rogues! You will defend the supplies we stole from the Shadow Empire to the death! I can already smell the coin they'll fetch me.

Shadow Ferdinand: They have our supplies! We must smite them before they can make their escape!

*After defeating one of Light Acheron's subordinates*

Shadow Petra: Stealing is a thing of great evil! You will be returning what you took!

*After defeating both of Acheron's subordinates*

Shadow Edelgard: What an untrustworthy man. Thankfully, he lacks the skill to back it up.

LIght Acheron: They've been done in? Hmph! Well, my life is more valuable than some treasure, anyway.

*Light Acheron summons two more Mages to protect him.*

Shadow Caspar: This guy is the worst... Stop making your underlings do all the work, you coward!

*When Shadow Byleth approaches Light Acheron...*

Light Acheron: I am Light Acheron, savior of the Alliance! Oho, that's a good one! Let me just write that down here...

*When Light Acheron's HP reach <= 50%*

Light Acheron: (to his subordinates) Can't you idiots see I'm in trouble? Now stop standing around with your jaws slackened and help me already!

*When Light Acheron is defeated*

Light Acheron: I should have switched sides...when I had the chance...

Shadow Hubert: The Alliance's lands lie ahead--as well as Gloucester's army.

Count Light Gloucester: So they've taken the Great Bridge, have they? That makes us the Alliance's last defense.

Light Lorenz: There must be a way to resolve this matter without further bloodshed, Father.

Shadow Edelgard: Our first priority is to find Count Light Gloucester. He was on our side once. He'll surrender.

Shadow Hubert: There is no telling where the enemy might be lurking. We have no choice but to seize control of the entire bridge.

Shadow Monica: If we had some sort of makeshift bridge, we could reach Count Light Gloucester without relying on our flying units.

Shadow Edelgard: What about the supplies we recovered? We could use those to construct a bridge.

*When all of the strongholds other than the Northern Garrison and Northern Main Road are seized*

Shadow Edelgard: Our foothold is secure. Now we need only capture the enemy commander.

*When Shadow Shez approaches Count Light Gloucester*

Count Light Gloucester: I am Light Erwin Fritz Gloucester, governor of these lands and peoples!

*When Shadow Ferdinand approaches Light Lorenz…*

Light Lorenz: Those are Gloucester lands you see beyond me, and I will not suffer one heel of your boots to sully them!

*When Count Light Gloucester's HP reach <= 50%...*

Count Light Gloucester: Is this...the end?

*When Light Lorenz's HP reach <= 50%...*

Light Lorenz: House Gloucester is known for its tenacity!

*If Count Light Gloucester is defeated before Light Lorenz…*

Count Light Gloucester: Light Lorenz... Forgive me. It seems this is...the end.

*WIth Count Light Gloucester defeated, Shadow Edelgard Persuades Lorenz to retreat…*

Light Lorenz: My...I'm more wounded than I realized.

Shadow Edelgard: Enough. Stand down. Count Light Gloucester will soon be in our custody--further resistance can serve no purpose.

Light Lorenz: So I am beaten? What a disgrace!

*When both Light Lorenz and Count Light Gloucester are defeated…*

Count Light Gloucester: I can fight no more, Your Majesty. All of House Light Gloucester bows to your will.

Shadow Edelgard: You could have bowed much sooner and saved us a good deal of trouble... And you, Light Lorenz? I trust you'll cooperate as well?

Light Lorenz: My allegiance goes ever to the victor. I will serve the Empire loyally but only if you don’t dismantle the alliance.

Shadow Edelgard: I didn’t plan to.

Shadow Hubert: *Thinks* Then What is her plan for the alliance? *Says* Victory is ours--but this is merely the first step of our rescue.

Shadow Edelgard: Right you are. We need to relieve our allies who are embattled on Alliance lands.

*Shadow Shez meets with Shadow Edelgard, Shadow Hubert, and Shadow Monica after the battle.*

Shadow Shez: We won, but this is no time to rest easy--there's a lot more work still to be done.

Shadow Hubert: Agreed. We will leave some troops here with the wounded to hold our position, then take the reconsolidated force north without delay. Sadly, there can be no victory celebration until we have extricated Count Light Bergliez and the others.

Shadow Monica: Based on our projections, they will run out of provisions at any moment. We can also assume they know we have made it to Light Gloucester, meaning they will be waiting for us. But each hour they wait is another hour their stomachs remain empty.

Shadow Edelgard: If we peel away House Gloucester's troops, we can create an opening in the enemy ranks. Once that's done, we'll bring an end to Claude's shady scheme.

*At Stronghold Interior, Great Bridge of Myrddin, Light Lorenz and Count Light Gloucester meet after the battle.*

Count Light Gloucester: Interesting. it seems the Shadow Empire may not want our heads on pikes after all.

Light Lorenz: That is good news. I was concerned they might be so upset as to seek your execution. But based on their posturing, it seems those fears were groundless.

Count Light Gloucester: Well I am an effective lord, if I do say so myself. They must realize taking my life would make it difficult to keep order on my lands.

Light Lorenz: Few lords anywhere in Fódlan are as loved and respected by their people as you, Father.

Count Light Gloucester: Perhaps. But if so, that only makes my misjudgment all the more grave. I never should have let that man cajole me into starting such a needless fight.

Light Lorenz: You say that now because we lost, but would your appraisal not be different in the face of victory? The people would've idolized you for ushering House Light Gloucester toward even greater prosperity.

Count LIght Gloucester: Questions of "what if" matter little after you lose a battle, and even less after you have misled your people. The time to judge the right and wrong of things is before, not after.

Light Lorenz: ...

Count Light Gloucester: It is for this reason that I have decided to yield command of our house to you. I only pray you might walk us back from the terrible misstep I have made. Besides which, the Shadow Empire still views me as a traitor. If I fail to step down now, I will spend the rest of my days wondering when the axe might fall.

Light Lorenz: I... I understand, Father. With all that has happened, it is hard not to see the wisdom in your decision. I will find a way to build a newer, stronger House Light Gloucester alongside the Shadow Empire. And just as it did before, our house will shine brighter than any in Leicester!

*At Alliance Side, Great Bridge of Myrddin, Shadow Shez meets with Shadow Edelgard, Shadow Byleth, and Shadow Hubert.*

Light Hubert: Your Majesty, Gloucester has yielded his land and titles to his firstborn son, Lorenz. This new Count Light Gloucester has expressed a desire to join the Empire. No doubt he wishes to make his loyalty plain by taking a clear stand against House Light Riegan.

Shadow Edelgard: Well, I see no reason to reject his offer. See that his soldiers are properly integrated. *Thinks* Just know Light Lorenz, this is just until the war ends.

Shadow Hubert: As you wish, Your Majesty.

Shadow Shez: Sometimes I have no idea what goes through your noble heads. How can you possibly trust a house that just plunged a knife into your back? If a merc pulled a stunt like that, they'd either be cast aside or cut down where they stood.

Shadow Edelgard: I believe it--and I'd like to do the same. But not just anyone can hold Gloucester territory together, and I have no one else to take Lorenz's place.

Shadow Shez: I suppose no one would put up with the aristocracy if it didn't afford some sort of stability.

Shadow Edelgard: Yes, that is simply the way of things in Fódlan now. But as I've told you, I intend to change this. The age of deciding our rulers by blood must end. A day will come when anyone can vie for the right to rule, and then we will be free of this wretched system. So stand with me. Help me make it so.

[jdgo51]

DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR OCTOBER 3, 2023

No Hole Too Deep

By H. Michael Brewer (Kentucky, USA)

READ PSALM 139:7-10

"Surely the arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear."

ISAIAH 59:1 (NIV)

"One day while I visited a construction site with my father, my puppy wandered away. I heard him wailing and discovered he had fallen into a hole. I tried to retrieve him, but he was beyond my reach. My father promised, “It will be alright.” He lay on the ground and thrust his arm into the hole. He strained, he stretched, he grunted, and finally his fingertips hooked my puppy’s collar. Then he lifted my whimpering pet back into the light. I brushed my puppy clean and then hugged my father. The memory remains vivid — musty soil, warm summer sun, and fear clenching my body.

That day, I believed my dad could do anything. The recollection of my earthly father’s strength encourages me to have greater trust in my heavenly Father. Even after decades of following Jesus, I sometimes think my heart embraces fear more readily than faith. But I remind myself that I am neither lost nor alone. When I see no way out, I remember the strong arm and long reach of my Savior.

No disaster can put us beyond God’s help. So when we are frightened in the dark, trapped by poor choices, over our heads in trouble, God’s arm is long enough to reach us, and God’s hand is strong enough to save us." God can always reach us, no matter what is going on. We are never out of His reach. Know in your heart, that He is reaching for you now and directing you along your path.

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Heavenly Father, thank you for holding us in your hand and lifting us when we fall. Give us faith to trust you even when we are afraid." Amen.

Psalm 139:7-10

"7 Where could I go to get away from your spirit? Where could I go to escape your presence? 8 If I went up to heaven, you would be there. If I went down to the grave, you would be there too! 9 If I could fly on the wings of dawn, stopping to rest only on the far side of the ocean 10 even there your hand would guide me; even there your strong hand would hold me tight!" He is holding on to us at all times. We can never escape Him nor move too far away. Rest in the peace that we are given. Bless us all this day! Joe

[hellmouth-manor]

belle âme | alou | trial 2.6

It was strange to be admonished by Micah.

And stranger still to see new emotions, new facets, from all the people he'd been coming to know. The anger and hurt just underlines how much trust there had been in the first place-- there could not be disappointment without something to be disappointed in.

He says nothing while Cu speaks his peace-- just glad that it's a defense of the action and not the person, because Cu is too young to continue making himself a pariah by defending the wrong people. As Cu slides down to the floor, Alou's heart begins to slide down with it, weary.

It's Cedric that startles him out of the settling resignation. He hates how his moniker sounds in the other's mouth-- spoken with confident derision, not fear or awe or appreciation.

And for the first time, he feels not the longing to be known, but the terror of being understood. Every consequence he'd put aside as something to deal with later, Cedric chews up and spins into silk with his poisonous tongue. Every thread he'd painstakingly tied for building tenuous bridges, Cedric snaps without discrimination.

His breath cuts short because he can already feel Poppy's hands around his throat. His fingers dig into his braid just to try to hold onto something. His love wasn't worth that much-- not to Poppy and Wakako-- and their love for him was never that strong, so he can't even find the faith or the words to argue.

'You are bemoaning about it being unenjoyable? We are considering killing several of them, Alou.. it hardly matters if you hurt their feelings as we do so...'

'It matters a little. I'm the one who is going to be stuck in eternal damnation with them all. And also, they don't deserve it. Out of necessity, I will, but I need that to be said.'

'... You can make amends later. I do not care how you do it, that is your problem. You have eternal damnation to sort it out, do you not?'

Even eternal damnation might not be enough.

His knees shake but he refuses to let them buckle. He drags his hands from his hair, the braid falling loose as he places both hands on the podium to stay upright. His head tilts slightly in Nike's direction.

"You can't talk to me about idealism..."

The words are soft and restrained as they hiss out to Nike-- he tries to bite back the edge of it and ends up choking on his own breath, on his own blood from how his teeth clench on his tongue. And as he holds it all in, it's somehow Touji's words that strike a chord. An invitation to wrath.

'Did it feel good to say that? You should do it more often. Makes for less misunderstandings and shit, you know?'

"I. Am. Better."

He spits onto the podium, a small smear of red left on his lips when he wipes the ichor away with his palm. He would laugh if he wasn't so genuinely furious.

"I'm better than all of you who are too jaded to think it's even worth it to try to be good. I'm better than all of you who are too good to see where there's rot. All I hear, every day, is people thinking about themselves. Even when they're thinking about others, it's in self-interest. Survival. Fuck! Is humanity about survival? If life is only about living, what's the fucking point!"

"What's the fucking point, when it's too late! You should have been kinder to her. You should have helped her, been her friend, been her family. She should have had other options, but all she was left with was me. Now that she's dead you feel bad for her, but only because it could have been you."

"... And I'm worse than all of you, too. I'm the worst. Nobody else can do what I'm willing to do, or will see what I'm willing to see. You're all sick. You don't-- you would watch the world burn to survive, but you don't even love the person you're doing it for. You don't even love yourselves."

His anger twists with his grief.

"Everyone is a monster. To be human is to be a monster. Everyone deserves to go to hell. But that's okay. I hope all of your deaths are beautiful, as you are beautiful."