#among snakes i shall dance

[lxdyred]

Among snakes I shall dance, ch. 5: Not dead yet

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Targaryen!Fem!Reader

Previous Chapter // Epilogue

Summary: Rhaenyra's firstborn finds herself surrounded by the greens and, to her misfortune, betrothed to one of them. So she begins to plan how to take them down, one by one, from the inside.

Word count: 6.3k

Warning: Allusions to incestuous relationship, use of obscene language, mentions of sexual assault, dub-con and graphic possible death. some characters might be a bit out of character.

A/N: THE LAST CHAPTER IS HERE!

Feedback is always appreciated! ❤️

"You are with child.” These were the words Grand Master Orwyle blurted out.

"I don't understand..." was all that the peincess managed to say.

She was in a state of complete shock after all that had just happened with Aegon in her chamber, not more than an hour ago. An unparalleled anxiety had come over her at the ultimatum her husband's older brother had given her. She felt dazed and overwhelmed, fatigued and exhausted.

"The maid who came to fetch me has spoken of your behaviour these past few weeks," the Maester spoke, trying to make her feel more at ease. He spoke, trying to make her understand her situation.

"Dyana is not my maid, she is the king and queen's maid.” The young woman spoke with a somewhat lost look in her eyes. She was totally lost in herself. "She can't make these conjectures. I cannot be expecting a child."

"Servants tend to talk among themselves, that's why she'll be aware of your situation."

"This has to be a mistake."

"Princess. When was the last time you bled?" The old man ran a cloth dipped in aromatic waters over her forehead and neck, to make her feel better and help her calm down. "Have you had any unusual symptoms lately?"

"I have been fatigued, but that is because my Lord Husband and I have been-" she paused before continuing. "We've been spending a lot of time together, doing things."

"That's something we have all noticed." The princess put her hands to her head at the comment, "Tell me, have you bled this past moon?"

"No." That was when the young Velaryon realised that Orwyle was possibly right in everything he said. "I haven't done it in two moons, actually."

Aemond did had an excellent aim, then.

"During the first few moons it is normal for a woman to seek intimacy with her husband. It is another symptom, the appetite for intercourse, due to the new state the body is in."

"My breasts feel fuller." The woman commented, looking at the Master, who gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Then it is a fact, Princess. Congratulations, you will bear the prince a heir."

"Could we keep it a secret for a few days?" the young woman asked nervously, as she rose from the bed and pulled a blanket over her shoulders. "I would like to tell the prince first, before anyone else lets him know."

"Of course. I won't say anything." Nodded the man as he prepared to leave.

"Grand Maester, if the maid is still outside, could you ask her to come in, please?"

The Grand Maester nodded again before heading out the door, but not before bowing his head. "Princess."

The young silver-haired woman put her nails in her mouth and began to pace the room, nervous, once the shock was beginning to wear off. Her head began to spin, a lump formed in her throat and her chest felt heavy.

"Princess." Spoke in a whisper the young maid, Dyana, as she entered the room.

"Close the door, please." Said the woman, standing and looking at the other woman. She was not much younger than she was.

"Are you all right, my lady?" the young woman asked, her hands clasped in front of her. "Is there anything I can do to make you comfortable?"

"How could it be that moments after the king left my chambers, one of his maids came into my room and found me in the state I was in?" She asked, the young woman just stared at her in silence, thinking of an answer. "Did he send you, by any chance?"

"No, of course not, princess." The young woman shook her head, vigorously.

"Then?"

"I... I followed the king here. I saw him come in and noticed how he was slow to leave... then I heard you crying and screaming." The young woman spoke nervously, fiddling with her hands and with her head down. "I just wanted to make sure you was alright, that's all."

"A servant girl shouldn't get into trouble that doesn't concern her, Dyana. If the king had come to see you, he might have-"

"He began to tell me what he planned to do to you, princess. A few days ago, when I was serving him wine. He was very drunk, I think he mistook me for someone he shouldn't have." The blonde woman took a step forward, unsure of the reaction the Velaryon might have. "I wanted to make sure he didn't do anything to you, nothing more. I'm so sorry for intruding."

"Why would you want to do that for me? Aren't you supposed to be one of the queen and king's most loyal servants?" The princess's voice trembled, not quite able to reach why that specific maid would care about her. The young woman said nothing, only giving her a quick tear-filled glance, before looking away and lowering her gaze.

And then she understood where the girl's concern was coming from.

"He did the same to you, as he did to me." It wasn't a question, more of a fact. The Princess felt anger gnawing at her insides at what he had done to the girl. "You're just a child, you must be the same age as my brother Luke, and he-" she stopped herself before turning her back on the girl and walking over to the dresser by the window, pulling out a small bag.

"Princess?"

"You need to get the hell out of here." Said the Valyrian-featured woman, walking over to where the young servant stood and taking her hand, then resting the bag she had just taken on top of it. "I want you to get out of here, right now. You're not safe, and I won't let that depraved, son of a bitch do anything else to you."

"I can't leave, I have obligations here. My family depends on my work here and-"

The princess took Dyana's face, and made her look into her eyes. "Fuck those obligations. You have to do it and you will do it, you have to be safe, all right? There's enough gold in that bag for you and your family to start over far away from here, anywhere. I refuse to put you through this."

"What about you, princess?"

"It's complicated." The princess spoke. "But at least I'm relieved to know that I've been able to help someone escape this nightmare." She smiled sadly at her. "Don't look back and try to live a life away from here."

"Princess..." Dyana's lower lip began to tremble, but she nodded at the words she had just heard.

"Thank you, Dyana. For caring about me. Now, go." The young maid stood still where she was. "Go." The Red Mermaid insisted.

Dyana nodded and left, but not before giving to the Velaryon princess a glance. "Finish him off." The young woman encouraged her, before bowing her head and leaving the place.

It was moments later when the silver-haired woman fell to her knees in defeat and burst into tears. She put one hand to her belly and another over her mouth to silence her cries.

What could she do now, in the situation she was in?

Such was the mental, emotional and physical exhaustion she felt at the position she was in, that she didn't even have the strength to get up from the floor and go to her bed. She felt the weight of the world on her, and she didn't know what to do.

She needed Aemond. Without him, her danger was inevitable. She just wanted him to hold her and reassure her that everything was going to be all right, that she could get out of all of this.

"What am I going to do?" she asked in a whisper, as she closed her eyes and caressed her lower belly, now lying on the floor. In a fetal position. "I can't let anything happen to you. I-I... I can't let you be born into a world like this."

She gave no more of herself, she collapsed and gave up, let sleep overtake her, on that cold, uncomfortable floor. Thousands of questions and fears haunted her, so that even in her dreams she was chased by them.

"My love..." was the first thing she heard when she slowly opened her eyes the next day. "My love..." a soft caress ran down her back.

Confused, she looked around. She saw the light coming through the windows, but noticed that it was not the light of dawn, but rather the light of dusk. She turned and realised that she was on the bed, not on the floor, and Aemond was lying next to her, watching her silently as he gently caressed her figure.

"You're back." She whispered moving closer to her husband's body and hiding her face in his chest, inhaling his fragrance for comfort.

"Here I am." He murmured into her hair. "I found you on the floor, asleep, when I arrived a few hours ago. I thought you needed rest, so I didn't wake you."

She looked up and stroked his cheek, as she watched his face, her expression hard for him to read.

"Has something happened in my absence?" Concerned he asked, frowning slightly.

"No." She lied to him, before giving him a weak smile and hiding her face in his chest again. "Nothing for you to worry about, hm?" Then she remembered why he had to leave the day before, unannounced. "How did it go at Storm's End? Did anything happen?" She asked him, now sitting up in bed, waiting for an answer from him.

"Things got complicated, they got out of control." The sapphire man answered her, as he sat down next to her.

"Did Lord Baratheon say anything to you? Are you all right?" the young Velaryon woman asked worriedly as she took his hand.

"Borros is a complex man, but yes, I'm fine." Her husband looked down at his hands, unsure how to tell her what had happened at Storm's End last night. "It has to do with your brother Lucerys, my love."

"I don't understand, Aemond. What does Luke has to do with any of this?" she shook her head in confusion. "Has a raven come for me in my sleep, by any chance? Has something happened to my baby brother?" She got out of bed as she felt the panic and anticipation wash over her.

Couldn't the young princess catch her breath at least? Fucking hell, because what a twenty-four hours she had been up to.

"No, no raven has come." The Red Mermaid relaxed slightly at those words. "You see, last night when I arrived at Storm's End to negotiate with Borros, I-"

Strange coincidence that someone knocked on the door just as Aemond was about to tell his wife what had happened at Storm's End and what Luke apparently had to do with it.

"Come in." Said the prince with the long silver hair and one eye.

"Good evening, my prince, my princess." Announced a servant boy entering the room with two small papyrus. "They are for you."

The young princess took the note the kid brought for her, while the Targaryen took his, respectively.

"My brother wants us all to gather tonight for dinner, to celebrate how the negotiations with Lord Baratheon went." Aemond read aloud, as he walked over to where the flagon of wine sat and poured a cup for himself and another for his wife.

'In the throne room, after supper, I will await your response to my offer.' That was what was written on the note from her, who, after reading it, threw it into the fire in the hearth.

"Why are you burning it?" Aemond asked her, arching an eyebrow at the silence in which his wife found herself.

"No reason, darling. It wasn't for me, they must have made a mistake." She replied, taking the glass of wine he offered her. "Thank you."

The man with the blue sapphire embraced the red mermaid from behind, resting his chin on her head and bringing his hands to her waist. He closed his eye and tried to find the strength to be the one to tell her what happened the night before. He didn't want her to find out from someone else.

"Aemond." The silence was broken by the young woman, catching his attention. "There is something I must tell you." The young woman turned on her heels, and rested her hand on his chest.

It was obviously not simply something she had to tell him. There were two of them, and they were huge issues to address. And honestly? She didn't want to do it alone, because she was terrified to the core.

"I..." the young woman gasped. She didn't have the strength to tell him everything that had happened in her absence. "I don't want to spend a minute without you by my side, even when you have to go. If you must leave the Red Keep at any time, I want you to take me with you." I don't want to be in the same cage as the beast, she omitted to say.

"All right." Was all the prince said before placing a kiss on the Velaryon's temple, who closed her eyes at the warm gesture.

His story was going to have to wait.

She definitely felt like a competition pig, about to be executed at any moment and served on a platter. Those words were exactly how she felt under the predatory gaze of Aegon, who gave her a malicious grin as he munched on his dinner. She glared hatefully at him, clutching the knife with which he was cutting into her steak, so tightly that her knuckles were completely white.

"Is it me or is the atmosphere tense tonight?" spoke that excuse of a King, as he looked at his brother and sister-in-law. "We should be celebrating."

"Aegon, please." Alicent spoke, giving his daughter-in-law and granddaughter-in-law a fleeting glance, trying to stop his son from doing something stupid.

"Don't worry, Mother." Aegon spoke, rising from his seat, then picking up his goblet and raising it. "I want to make a toast, so please raise your glasses."

"Aegon. Don't." Alicent knew what was coming.

"A toast to my little brother, Aemond, who has secured the loyalty of the Baratheons in our favor.” All present, Otto, Alicent - who looked relieved - Helaena, and even the couple, Aemond and the princess raised their glasses. "The kingdom is grateful to you, Aemond. Your king is."

"Hear, hear." Said Otto with a smile on his face, he seemed satisfied.

Everyone drank from their cup after that toast, but Aegon was not finished yet. "By the seven hells, how could I have missed it. How tactless of me, how insensitive I am." Aegon lowered his glass and forced a look of sadness onto his face.

The young Velaryon, looking with confusion at her husband, who sat tense in his seat, gave her a look he could not decipher.

"I would like to say a few words for our nephew, Lucerys Velaryon. For your brother."

The young woman's heart began to beat violently against her chest, she felt suddenly breathless. "What?" was all the young woman managed to whisper.

"I would like to honour his memory by saying, that it comforts me to know that the boy was very brave until his last moments, even when he was unfortunately pitted against Vhagar. He also showed himself to be very... Strong, like his father, with whom I hope he is resting in peace right now."

The princess let out a short nervous laugh. "I don't understand. Luke is fine, he's not dead. Why would you say something like that?" the young woman asked angrily at the last part, rising from her seat, though she was still confused by her uncle's words.

"I am sorry, dear niece. Has your husband not told you the tragic news?" The silver-haired girl looked at Aemond, who was rising to his feet, and extended a hand in his direction.

"Don't touch me." The young woman mumbled, feeling her eyes burn from the accumulation of tears. He remained silent, but tried to touch her again. "Luke is fine."

"No, my dearest. Your brother is dead, and your husband is the one who can confirm it. After all, he's the one who killed him."

Without a word, the young woman rose from her seat, and with a completely neutral countenance, so as not to give Aegon any satisfaction, she looked at everyone present but Aemond. She did not even deign to address him. To him, for his part, having had no reaction from her to the news, he knew perfectly well that she had given him up for dead, that he was so insignificant that he did not deserve even a look of contempt.

"Niece..." whispered Helaena, with immense sadness, as she watched her friend leave the room. They all stood and watched, silently as she left, while Aegon smiled to himself before sitting back down and taking a drink from his goblet.

"Someone put some more wine in my cup." Was what he said, satisfied with the damage he had done to the couple.

His plan was working, indeed.

With firm, quick steps, the young woman made her way to her chambers. Once inside, standing in the middle of the room, she burst into a rage and began to ravage everything within her reach. Between screams and cries of desolation, she tore down the curtains, threw the cups against the wall, tore the bedclothes, threw the table and everything on it.

The Valyrian looking woman put her hands to her head and let out from between her lips the most heart-rending scream ever heard in the Keep. "Fucking monsters! You are filthy snakes, all of you! May you rot in fucking hell and die the worst fucking deaths!" She screamed at the top of his lungs. "Fuck you all!" Between shaky, angry breaths, she did try to wipe the tears from her beautiful eyes.

"My love-" her husband's voice was heard behind her.

There he was, the person she had fallen in love with and married, much to her fucking disgrace now. The person who had been, nothing more and nothing less, the one who had ended her brother's life. "What the fuck do you want, kinslayer?" she said venomously to her husband, clenching her jaw.

He tried to approach her, but she pointed her finger at him, causing him to stop in his tracks. "I have to explain to you exactly what happened. Please."

"You disgust me." She said to him with bated breath. "I don't want you anywhere near me, do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

Aemond held up his hands in response. "Let me tell you exactly what happened. Please, darling?"

"Seven hells! Don't call me that!" She shouted at him as she came up to her husband. "I should kill you for what you did to my brother." She said between her teeth, tears of rage and anger forming in her eyes. "You made me trust you, Aemond! You told me you would protect me! And that means you would never let anything to hurt me, that goes for you too! Fuck!"

"Listen-"

"NO! I have nothing to listen to! I'm not going to let you tell me lies, I'm not going to let you trick me." The Velaryon brought her hands to her face and let her air out through her nose. "You're no better than any of them, not even Aegon, and that's saying a lot. You're all fucking, filthy snakes."

Aemond stood still, not moving, just watching as his wife paced up and down the room, shouting at him - and rightly so. At that moment he felt like the world was closing in on him, a suffocating pressure preventing him from breathing normally, his own racing heart pounding in his ears and chest. His eye was beginning to burn from the tears that were forming.

But he could do nothing, he could say nothing. He could only stand there, still and silent. Watching it all fall apart.

"I want you to leave." She said after she had been silent for a few moments. "I never want to see you again in my fucking life."

"You know I can't do that."

"You will. Or I swear on my soul I'll kill you, but not before I gouge out your other eye!" Then she let out a laugh full of irony. "Seven hells, that would be poetic to see."

"Please-" tears slid down his face.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Aemond nodded only once, then left the room, but not before giving his wife one last pain-filled look.

"I love you..." he whispered to himself.

After that, once completely alone, the young princess with angsty features, sat down in front of the fireplace and began to drink the wine that remained in the jug. As she stared at the fire, she could feel the reflection of it within her, it burned her, or rather motivated her to do what she had to do. She knew she could not stand idly by and do nothing, do nothing for her family. For what was left of her, at least.

Once she was drunk enough to have the confidence and the little courage she lacked and needed, she went to her dresser and dressed in what she considered to be the best nightgown she had.

If she was going to do what she was supposed to do, she had to do it properly. After all, as Aegon had said the night before, there should be no impediment to the two of them making something profitable out of the situation.

She set off for the throne room. It was already dark, and there was almost no one in the cold, dark corridors. Aegon was smart to tell his niece to meet in the huge, now empty room.

"You are late." He said once he saw her enter the room. "I thought I was going to have to send for you, to have my guards drag you out."

She brought a hand to her lower belly, caressing it, and sighed, turning her back to him as she closed the Throne room’s door. "As you can see, that won't be necessary." She said forcing a smile for her uncle.

"Come closer." He commanded, sitting on the Iron Throne. "I don't bite. Well, it depends on the occasion." He joked darkly.

With a cold, determined gaze, the king's niece walked to the stairs leading to the throne, where she stopped, and watched him silently. "Here I am." She said.

"Do you not intend to bow to your king?" Aegon asked, resting his face in his hand.

"My mistake, uncle." She curtsied to him, but never took her eyes off him at any point.

"That's better. Though... you should be taught manners, taught your place, dear niece."

"You are right, my apologies." She whispered with a certain air of innocence.

The usurper king let out a small laugh. "You do learn quickly..." he said, rising from the throne and descending the stairs slowly. His footsteps were loud, echoing in the wide hall. "That really turns me on, you have no idea."

She gave him a smile. "I... I wanted to apologise, Aegon. For my hostile behaviour towards the crown, towards you." She ducked her head. "But now I know you were right when you told me yesterday that we could both profit from our... situation."

"Hm... I forgive you, don't worry." He cupped her hand, cool to the touch, and then grabbed her chin gently, lifting her face so that he could look her in the eye. "I'm glad you made the right decision."

"I'm grateful to have been encouraged to do so, Uncle."

"At last... I can admire your scar up close." He said, moving her face to get a better view of her old wound. "What's the real story behind it?"

"A man tried to rape me, and I wouldn't let him."

"Surely he wouldn't have satisfied you the way I would."

"Surely not." She whispered, closing her eyes. He nuzzled her neck, and felt her pulse in it. "I hope you don't dislike my scar."

"Not at all, it fascinates me."

"That relieves me to know." The Velaryon opened her eyes and made eye contact with him, even with her face cocked to one side.

"You've changed since the last time I took you." The short, silver-haired man brought his face close to her hair and sniffed. "You're a real woman now, all thanks to me." He whispered in her ear.

"Let me show you what a real woman can do, please." She implored, as she gave him an innocent look and bit her lower lip.

He turned away from her, and walked back up the stairs to the throne, where he took a seat and watched her.

"Undress." He commanded her. She silently and slowly removed the only garment she was wearing. "Come over here and kneel." He said spreading his legs apart, making room for her.

As her nightgown landed on the cold floor, she climbed up those stairs, then positioned herself between his legs, kneeling and placing her hands on his knees.

"Hm." He cocked his head to one side as he reached for her face with one hand. "Now kiss me." He moved his face slightly closer to hers.

She lifted up a little, and sought support by resting her hands on both of his thighs. Then, that's when she kissed him. It was quick and shy.

"Surely you can do better, eh?" She nodded, and hesitantly took his face and kissed him again, but now more violently and heatedly. "That's a hell of a lot better, dear niece."

She blushed and averted her gaze. "Well, thank you." she murmured.

"Yes, much better than the first time, no doubt." Said the man with satisfaction in his voice. "Good, now I want you to feel me. I want you to feel the reaction you've caused in me." Aegon blurted out as he lowered his gaze to his own crotch, where she knew what she would find.

The princess, without a sound, moved her hands from his knees to the buttons of his breeches, slowly and sensually caressing his thighs, causing Aegon to pull his head back and bite his lip, trying to stifle himself.

"May I?" she asked, pointing her head towards the buttons of his trousers. He nodded, and she proceeded, unbuttoning them and pulling the trousers afterward, thus leaving the king fully exposed. "It's... impressive."

"You like what you see, little one?" she nodded her head in reply.

"Aha." She moaned as she brought a hand down to his crotch, and then began to massage the area, and started kissing his thighs and lower belly, which caused him to bring his hands to her hair, and clench his fists in his grasp.

"Put your mouth to better use."

"Whatever you order, Uncle." She began massaging his shaft, then massaging his balls.

Aegon let out a moan, full of pleasure, causing him to roll his eyes. His knuckles turned white as he felt her lips on his balls. But what had started as a moan of pleasure soon turned into an agonised cry, filled with a pain unimaginable for a man, as he felt a sharp, wrenching bite coming from that area.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE!" he shouted, before kicking her and sending her tumbling down the stairs. He brought his hands to her between her legs and watched as blood gushed violently.

"No more bastards nor rapes… from Aegon the Ball-less." Then she let out a laugh, the scene was so comical to her, her whole body ached from all the laughing. "Did you really think I would do any of this? If so, you were not paying attention, HA!”

The usurper came awkwardly down the stairs, staggering as he tried to pull up his trousers as best he could. "Your pathetic existence, and that of your entire filthy family, ends today." He said as he reached where she was lying, and began to kick her stomach and head. Hard.

She tried to protect herself from the blows as best she could, but with every blow she received she felt more dazed and less strength was left. Once he was satisfied, with all the kicks he had given her, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to where his sword was resting against the throne.

"I should give your fucking head to your mother. And maybe one of your eyes, or both of them, to my brother." He said, bringing the blade of his sword close to her neck.

"That would be a very nice gesture on your part, Uncle." She mocked, giving him a defiant smile, while showing her face full of blood, both his and hers, in equal parts.

"The first thing I'll do is cut out your filthy tongue!" He exclaimed between his teeth, with fury and contempt.

"Do it." She retorted, and then he swung a blunt punch at her face, he gripped the sword tightly and pressed it against her neck, causing a flesh wound, but only a superficial one.

"And to think I was going to give you a chance to make things right." He prepared to slit her throat, but she stepped forward and spat in his face, which caused him to pause for a few moments and caused her to gain enough leverage to elbow him over his freshly made wound, where his balls had once been.

"Rot in the seven hells." She sentenced, as she rose to her feet, in all her naked glory, and gave him a parry on the hand, thus causing him to lose his grip on the sword, that once belonged to Aegon the Conqueror.

She took a firm grip on the sword, and taking advantage of the fact that he was lying on the ground, she took the opportunity to thrust it into his abdomen, causing him to let out a groan.

Without giving him a second glance, she started her way towards the door of the room, but her legs gave out and she ended up falling to the floor, being in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness. It wasn't until a few seconds later that saw the doors open and two figures emerge.

Ser Criston and Aemond.

She tried to say something, but by the time Aemond knelt down beside her and took her by the face, to check on her, and seeing also how Ser Criston covered her with his white cloak, she completely lost all senses, and so, she was plunged into darkness.

"With wounded pride, the beast will roar. The dragon will rise up and claim what is his."

"Shh... shh..." she felt a warm hand on her cheek, which made her try to open her eyes, still with difficulty, due their sore and swollen state.

"Aemond...?" she whispered as she caught a glimpse of long, silver hair, similar to hers, out of focus.

"Hey, hey my darling..." She heard a voice, on her other side. She turned her head and there he was, sitting in a chair next to the bed she was lying on. "You had us worried sick." he whispered as he took her hand and kissed it gently.

"Sissy." She heard a childish voice at the foot of her bed. She lifted her head awkwardly, and saw her little brother Joffrey, who was giving her a sweet, expectant look through his brown curls. He was not alone, beside him was Jace and, to her surprise, Luke as well -who was covered in some wounds, but nothing fatal.

"You're home, sweetheart." Said the first voice she'd heard before, she turned her face again, and there she was. Her mother.

"Mama..." she sobbed as she saw her mother kneeling beside her. Rhaenyra's eyes were filled with tears, but she still smiled at her, relieved to see that her daughter was well and back by her side. "Am I dead?" she asked in disbelief that the people she loved most in the world were in her presence.

"No, no." Her mother replied, as she stroked her hair tenderly, while crying silently.

She gave then, her husband a look. "You came back..." she whispered, squeezing Aemond's hand, with what little strength she had.

"Yes." He nodded, as he continued to place kisses on her hand. She noticed that he wasn't wearing his patch, and it was noticeable that he had been crying as well.

"You came back." The princess said again, Aemond placed a kiss on her forehead. "I can rest now... I can rest now..."

"Wha-What? What, darling?"

"I'm dying... I know I'm dying."

"No, no. Hey, you gonna be fine? Can you hear me?" Aemond pleaded, as he stroked her bruised cheeks.

"Take care of them, please..."

"Listen, I didn't come here for that, eh?" He told her, trying to control his urge to cry. He closed his eyes and found the strength to try to steady himself for her. "You're going to be fine, they're going to take good care of you. I promise you, you'll be fine, yes?"

The Red Mermaid could no longer contain herself, and began to cry. "Aemond, I'm scared. I’m so scared.”

"You're going to be alright, sweetheart." Aemond whispered before placing a small kiss on her lips.

"I'm so sorry, for everything I said to you." She sobbed as she apologised to the man she loved. “I’m so deeply sorry, Aemond. I crossed the line by saying all those awful things. It was not fair…”

"Don't worry, my love. It's okay, it's all right, okay?" he murmured, she nodded relieved to hear him say that. “There is nothing you can do that is impossible for me to forgive you for, alright? I forgave you of anything you ever could do the day you said you trusted me."

“I love you.”

“And I, you, my precious love…”

She smiled softly. "Mom, I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise." She whispered giving a glance to her mother and younger siblings, who approached her.

"Sweet girl, you've done well, okay? All that matters to me is that you are back home, with your family." Rhaenyra said, as she gave her only daughter a reassuring smile.

Luke placed his hand on hers, and soon after, Jace and Joff did the same, resting their hands on his in a sign of bonding and support. "It's going to be alright, sister."

"We're proud of you." Jace said with a small smile.

“We love you, sissy.” A Joff with no front teeth said, sweet.

Someone knocked on the door of the room, it was Daemon, the closest thing she had to a father, who was accompanied by the Maester of Dragonstone. "The Maester has arrived, he's going to take care of her."

And that was the signal they needed for everyone present to leave, except Aemond who stood by the young Velaryon. She gave a glance to her family, and finally to Daemon, who gave her a smile and a nod. "I'm glad you're back home."

"Will you stay?" She asked Aemond, once they were alone, save for the Maester who nimbly began to prepare his things to attend her.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll never be away from you again." Aemond said, as he continued to stroke her hair. "And may the gods save anyone who tries from my wrath."

"What has become of Aegon?" she asked fearfully. She felt her body begin to tremble after thinking of all he had put her through since she was a child. "Does my mother know anything of what he did to me?"

"No, she doesn't, I haven't been able to tell her. It was not my place to do so, you must be the one to make the decision as to whether she should know or not, and I must not be the one to tell her." The Targaryen prince spoke as he ran a hand through his hair, which was loose from its usual updo. "And about Aegon, I don't know. I don't know if he lives or not, we'll soon find out, I assume."

"I see." She closed her eyes and let a halting sigh escape her split lips. Suddenly she opened them as she remembered that it was not just Aemond who had come to her aid. "What happened to Ser Criston?"

"He is dead." Her husband confessed with regret. "He stayed behind, fighting so that we could get to Vhagar and Scarlex... He gave his life so that we could made it here."

"Oh, I-I see." She whispered, feeling inwardly conflicted emotionally at the news of her biological father's death. "I'm grateful to him, then, for giving us this opportunity."

"So am I." Aemond smiled at her, resting one of his hands on her belly. She stared at him in disbelief, speechless.

He knew about the baby.

"There's something you should know. I'm-"

"I know. Don't worry, I know." The smile he gave his dear wife, the woman he loved most in the world, radiated a tremendous warmth, one that made her melt with tenderness. "I've known it for some time, in fact. You haven't bled in two moons, basically most of the time we've been sharing a bed."

"But I only found out yesterday. It's still too early for you to figure it out." The woman was to stunned to speak.

"Do you remember what I said about wanting to keep abreast of all matters concerning you?" he asked in a slightly joking tone.

She nodded. "And... what do you think about it?" she asked expectantly.

"I hope the babe has your beautiful, radiant smile. I hope they have your wit and your kindness, my beloved." He said before lowering his face to hers and kissing her tenderly.

"I love you, very much."

"I simply adore you."

"You won't regret it, will you? Choosing me over your family." she asked as she admired his face, and caressed his exposed scar.

"YOU are my family." He said, pressing his forehead to hers. "And I would choose you over all things, again and again."

Perhaps the princess's plan to destroy the greens had failed miserably, but the relief she felt, despite having gone through that dark and macabre nightmare, was in some ways worth it. And she knew that if given the choice to go through it again, she would accept, because she knew she would find him in her arms at the end.

He was definitely her safe space, her husband, her lover, her confidant, her friend.

And above all, her person.

[himegureisu]

Yule Ball [PT.1]

Summary: Your husband is teaching his snakes to dance. You decide to meet them on this occasion formally.

Word Count: 1733~

A/N: This was longer than I expected and I also meant to publish this after You but I finished this one first. Enjoy! I know I did.

“The Yule Ball has been a tradition conducted before the formal beginning of the first tasks in the Triwizard Tournament,”

His deep voice echoed throughout the expansive space as he walked around. Each Head of House was assigned to teach their students the waltz for the Ball. His Slytherins didn’t know that though.

“On Christmas Eve, we and our guests take time to gather at the Great Hall for a night of respectable frivolity by engaging in a dance,” Severus announced, the students groaned, “We may loathe to participate in such an endeavor, however, as a member of the House of Salazar Slytherin, I expect every one of you to be on your best behavior,”

“At the end of this session, you should be able to not stupidly slither and slip across the Great Hall,” Severus said,

You laughed.

Your laughter easily echoed in the hollow expanse of the room. Their attention suddenly turned to you by the entryway. Despite their whispers, you could hear their words. Who is she? What’s she doing here?

Severus turned. His stoic facade was unchanged in your presence.

“You sounded like Minerva just then,” you said, walking over, “She said something about her Gryffindors becoming a babbling bumbling band of baboons,”

“Did she?” he remarked, “How would you know that?”

“I was there lurking in the hall,” you answered, standing by his side, “They said that you may need help teaching your Slytherins to dance,”

“They?”

“You know, Albus,” you dropped names, “And, Minerva.”

“Those two meddling…” he sighed, the students watched on, “They sent me an incentive as if I need any,”

“Oh, so, I should go?” you walked towards the door, but one of his arms pulled you back, “See you want me here,”

“I always want you, my dear,” Severus said. Your cheeks heated up at the compliment. He whispered into your ear, “You know that,”

“I did bring gifts,” you remembered, pulling a pouch from the pocket of your robes, “Your favorite dark chocolate and gobstoppers,”

“You are an angel, my dear,” he said, raising a palm, “May I?”

“Later,” you said, and pocketed it, he nearly pouted, “For dessert after practice. You, Mister, have students to teach,”

“Shall I introduce you?” he observed them, silently squirming in their seats from curiosity, “I think we tortured them long enough,”

“Was it truly long enough though?” you chuckled.

He offered his arm to you, which you gladly accepted, as both of you faced the crowd of curious students. Their attention was focused as Severus commanded the room.

“Slytherins, quiet!” Severus bellowed, “It gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce to you, my wife, Madame Snape,”

Among the possibilities, their Head of House married was not one they considered.

Their voices were in an uproar of surprise, disbelief, and shock, especially a platinum blonde-haired teenage boy you knew from description as your husband’s godson, Draco Malfoy. Your ears could hear a faint There’s no way, even father doesn’t even know from his mouth.

“It’s nice to meet everyone,” you gently smile, and silently hope that they calmed down, “I thought you should get the courtesy of meeting me first in private rather than amongst other students at the Yule Ball,”

They were speechless. You were nice. The exact opposite of their Head of House.

“You’re going to attend the Yule Ball?” one of the girls dared to ask,

“Yes, I will,” you answered, “Barring any conflict of schedule, I should be there,”

The girls giggled. You were glad.

“Does this mean I can wear my wedding ring more often?” he asked you, lifting his left hand to gaze at it, “I did forget to remove it today, though, I don’t believe any of them noticed,”

“Or they were too afraid of you to say anything about it,” you answered, and exchanged knowing looks, “And, do wear your ring I’d love to hear, and for you to see your other students’ reaction,”

“That can be arranged,” he agreed, and turned to the students, “To resume our activities,”

They sighed. They thought your presence would be a sufficient distraction for him to forget about the task at hand.

“We will be teaching you how to waltz,” he started, “We shall demonstrate, and then after you will pair yourselves,”

“My lady,” Severus formally bowed and offered a hand, “Shall we?”

“Oh, am I part of this?” you teased, acting as if you wouldn’t take it, “Why, I’d be honored, good sir,”

His gentle but firm grip guided you to the center of the floor where every student could get a good view of what both of you were doing.

“Face your partners a foot apart, hold her hand then place the other on her waist,” he emphasized, doing so, “Not anywhere else,”

On the swish of his wand, the pin dropped and the turn table started to play the music.

“The steps are quite simple and gentlemen do pay attention you will be guiding the ladies,” he started the box step, which you just mirrored, “Do imagine you are creating a box on the ground. Your left foot forward, the other to the side, together, back, and repeat,”

“Ladies, you mirror what your partner is doing. If he steps, forward you step back,”

With you in his arms, his stern appearance disappeared. His body relaxed, movements fluid and precise as both of you seemed to glide across the floor.

His students watched in awe and amusement as both of you passed by. There’s an intimacy in the way he moves you, and in a single moment, they catch a glimpse of a smile on his face unexpectedly twirling you around.

“Show off,” you whispered,

“For you,” he quietly said, “Always,”

Your cheeks heated up at the statement.

It wasn’t long until the music and both of you stopped. You both bow to each other after as he addressed his students.

“Find your partners and don’t dally we don’t have all day,” he instructed, as the boys started to stand, “Those who find themselves with no partners will start with one of us and then will switch to other students,”

They quickly partnered up after that.

The older girls were afraid of being partnered up with him. The boys, however, would gladly be partnered up with you.

“You will get a minute of detention for each time you step on her toes or mine. Trust that we will be counting, and,” he warned, “Should I hear any sound of pain escape her lips you will be in detention for the week regardless of the number of times you stepped on her,”

“And should any one of you succeed in not stepping on my toes,” you added, “You’ll get to try the other candy I brought back from America,”

Their eyes lit up in anticipation at your words. They became a bit scared but eager not to mess up as the first young male Slytherin came up to you.

“Hello,” you introduced yourself, “What’s your name?”

You both exchanged pleasantries as he placed the appropriate distance and hand on your waist before the music started.

“You’re more likely to mess up if nervous so relax,” you said, as the music started, and you saw Severus glaring at the student in your arms, “Talk to me about anything to take your mind off it,”

“Oh, Professor Snape is the most…” he started to ramble off.

His feet did brush yours from time to time but no real painful step landed. Once he started talking about your husband, and the subjects he liked, he relaxed and the steps came more naturally.

“Excellent,” you said, “Now do that at the Yule Ball and you’ll be fine,”

You and Severus managed to dance with half the class before the bell rang to their relief.

There were some unfortunate enough to have two left feet which caused you to yelp effectively earning a week of detention. Others would be in detention for half an hour at least, and two hours at the most. Those fortunate to get it right were rewarded by the stash of no-maj candy you brought.

“Thank you, Professor Snape,” one student said, the other followed, “And thank you, Madame Snape!”

Slowly, the students thanked you and your husband and waved goodbye as they ran to the hall on their way to their next class.

“Must you give the whole stash?” Severus asked, the other pouch given away, “They’ll be insufferable for the rest of the day,”

“Those were extras. I refilled our stash at home,” you said, which caused him to perk up, “Don’t worry,”

You started to walk toward the door to leave but his arms wrapped around you, and refused to let go.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his lips at the nape of your neck, “Hmmm?”

“Leaving,” you said, “We’re done, aren't we?"

“No, we’re not,” he kissed your shoulder, and with a swish of his wand the music started again, “May I?”

His hand offered once again which you didn’t hesitate to take.

“Always,” you said, as he guided you once again, “You are and always will be my first and last,”

His defenses shattered at those words. His lips curled into a smile. His hands pulled you closer than you could ever be. His scent, the musk of old leather, fresh parchment, and sandalwood engulfed your senses.

In the emptiness of the room, there were no words exchanged. There was only the two of you against the world. Your feet followed his in harmony. Your robes and his flowed behind your backs.

Forward. Side. Together. Back. Again. A Twirl that caused you to laugh. Warming his heart.

So lost in the moment, both of you didn’t notice Draco and his friends enraptured by the intimate performance.

Once the music had stopped, you both briefly pulled away and bowed but after he’d recovered, he pulled you in.

“Sev, what—“

His lips fell on yours gently together. Rough but warm against soft and supple. His arms were around you, protective, possessive. You lean into the comfort of his touch. A soft moan escaped your lips.

“I love you,” you said, as you pulled away.

“I love you too,”

NEXT >>

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Snake Eyes 2

Warnings: noncon coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

You go up to the Cobra Lounge, a large bottle of top shelf vodka in hand. It’s one night. You can handle dealing with rich pricks and carrying around liquor. It’s only really demeaning to put your bar training to waste. Worst, you know it won’t make the night easy for Thor.

In the private room, with its full wall of windows looking down onto the dance floor, you find three men. One sits on the leather couch, knees wide as he strokes the hair along his upper lip; another reclines on the armchair, his feet up on the ottoman as he scrolls on his phone, combing his fingers through his short hair over and over; and the third stands by the windows, like a villain at the apex of Gotham, about to unleash his sinister plot.

“Ah, there she is,” the mustachioed one on the couch sits forward and smirks. His shirt is unbuttoned low on his chest, enough to give a generous view of his pecs.

“She’s new,” the one on his phone comments, not even looking up.

“Disappointing,” the third says to the window, “I rather liked Danica.”

“Was that her name?” The second one scoffs.

“What are you even doing here, Drysdale?” The man on the couch clucks, “you can watch porn at home.”

“I’m doing important business,” he second, Drysdale snarls and blackens the screen of his phone, “market doesn’t stop.”

“Not tonight,” the third warns, “Hansen, what do you think?”

Hansen, in his satin shirt, stands and struts over to the window to gaze out with the other man. You find glasses along the private bar and go about your task. Rich men are rarely easy to serve or please. Nor do they bother to return the favour, in your experience.

“Well, Pine, I don’t see any tens. Maybe a few eights…. Eight and a half tops,” Hansen snickers.

You hide your discomfort as you serve the man still sitting. He accepts his drink with a terse point to the coaster at his elbow. You put the glass there and approach the other. The taller of the two, with the lilt in his voice, thanks you, as the other, Hansen, barely looks at you.

“Gentlemen,” Loki enters as you leave the vodka on the bar. The men paid for the bottle. “Shall we begin?”

“You know, you promised us the pick of the lot,” Hansen pivots and crosses an arm over his chest, his other bent as upward as he smooths his mustache, “not much to pick from if you ask me.”

“Don’t pretend you’re so picky,” Drysdale spouts from his seat, lighting up his phone to check the notifications.

You don’t say a word. You’re not there to tell the douchebags to shut up. You move towards the door but Loki stays in your path. He points you backward.

“Darling, stay,” he demands, lowering his voice as he brushes by, “and do put a smile on.”

You turn and remain by the door as he strides inside. He fits easily among the group. He nears the man at the window, Pine, you think, and scans the crowd below.

“It is early,” Loki insists, “be patient. As it were, you did say there were matters of import to discuss.”

“Matters of import,” Hansen snorts, “this one always sounds like he’s giving a speech from the throne.”

“Ah yes, however I may sound,” Loki spins, “at least I haven’t a broom upon my lip.”

The men sneer at each other. A tension thickens in the air but cracks in an instant as both of the issues manufactured laughter. Ugh, you would much rather be working behind the bar.

“Darling,” Loki gestures to you demandingly. Shit.

You get him a glass of vodka, on the rocks with soda, as you were instructed before you came up. You bring it to him as he lets himself down onto the couch. His eyes meet yours as he does. Hansen rounds the other end of the couch.

“At least she has nice tits,” he picks up his glass, doffing it towards you.

“Mm, always so eloquent,” Loki remarks, but you don’t miss how his eyes drift down before averting completely. You retreat to wait for your next demand.

“Ugh, is this Smirnoff?” Drysdale whines.

“It is on the house,” Loki girds.

“I have money,” he retorts but drinks the vodka without further complaint.

“Otherwise you’d not be here for the big boy talk,” Lloyd retorts, “so let’s get into it. Is this about LA or Miami?”

Loki hums as he sips from his glass. Pine comes to stand behind the couch, tearing his attention from his inspection of the dancers below. Drysdale wiggles his phone between his fingers impatiently.

“Not so far as that,” Loki affirms, “these very walls. An expansion.”

“Which has what to do with us?” Hansen swirls his ice noisily.

“Well, there was some previous talk of investment and I would need a contractor as well,” he looks between the two men sat nearest to him, “and of course, PR.”

The men nod and each sink into a thoughtful lull. You watch dully, unconcerned with the venture, wishing only to be done with listening to their ego stroking.

As you hold back a yawn, your eyes meet a pair of green ones. Loki watches you, tilting his head as you force a smile. He returns his attention to the others.

“This isn’t a funeral,” Loki chides, “it should be a celebration, no?”

[solarisfortuneia]

i adore baizhu. i love him so much i cannot fathom an existence without him. this piece was so easy to write. i've totally perfectly proofread this jhsjhs for the summer fest @xianyoon

most pleasures in life tend to be simple. 

a soak in a bath warm enough to evaporate away the tension in your muscles, the feel of cool wind on your face on cloudy days, the first kiss of a lover in the morning, and so on. simple luxuries, truly.

summer days are the farthest thing from that, you decide. after all, who’d enjoy the lingering stickiness on your body, the sweltering heat that clings to you stubbornly, and the unyielding glare of the sun upon your face?

not you, that’s for sure. 

at least the festival is at night, you think. no sun around to bother you and your love and your evening of fireworks and food, and with plenty of spinning anemo thingamajigs, courtesy of that one inventor woman with the red glasses, to keep you cool. (you can never remember the name of the device, but you are grateful for it nevertheless.)

“dearest,” someone calls out to you from above. you raise your head to see baizhu walking down the stairs, the ever-familiar silhouette of the snake around his neck, with qiqi hanging on to one of his fingers. “shall we go now?” 

“ah, look, it’s the doctor of my dreams.” you say playfully, ascending a few steps and extending your hand. 

“how cheesy.” changsheng comments. “you should get your head checked if you’re seeing doctors in your dreams.” you make a face at her, and she mirrors your expression the best she can. baizhu chuckles lightly at the two of you.

“now, now.” he hushes the two of you, clasping your outstretched hand in his free one. “the festival awaits. let’s not dawdle too much, time is precious, after all.”

“okay!” you swing your hands together, careful to be gentle with him.

the festival that greets you is an impressive sight. parade floats line the street from one end to another, each crafted with impressive skill and artistic detail. the hustle and bustle of the harbor seems to have doubled, with people cluttering at the various stalls, performances and attractions. golden lanterns decorate every corner, illuminating the festival with warmth.

your attention darts to the main stage, where you see yunjin and xinyan perform a fusion piece as an opening number. you clap along with the crowd, and as the final beats ring through the air, you hear the sounds of rockets zoom-ing their way into the sky. they explode in bursts of color, combinations of golds, silvers, pinks and greens a stark contrast against the darkness of night.

life’s pleasures are simple. summer days may not be among them, but right now? standing hand in hand with baizhu, watching the rainbow colored fireworks dance among the stars?

luxurious, indeed. 

you’d gladly bear the heat for moments like these.

[crownedtargaryen]

RIBS : Aemond x Lucerys x Reader Ch. 2 - Tension

A/N: There will be a LOT of Lucerys romance in this before Aemond and Y/N’s

TW: THIS STORY WILL INCLUDE INCEST, SEXUAL CONTENT, ANGST, ABUSIVE TOPICS, EMOTIONAL MANIPULATION, POST PARTUM.

NOTES ARE APPRECIATED! (SHARES, LIKES, COMMENTS)

Word Count: 2.3k

Pronouns: She/Her

MASTERLIST ( < this has more parts that can be found here!)

Chapter Two

Tension

I sat comfortably in front of the mirror as my caretaker tied my corset around my waist, the gray colors of my home scattered along my dress. A small smile came to my face as the thoughts of my small adventure last night filled my head.

"What are you so happy for, Princess?" She spoke, making me hum in delight. "Oh dear, did you do something you should not have? I know that expression." She laughs softly, fixing my hair as I melt on the inside.

"Oh, it's nothing. I made a friend is all, they're quite the delight," I reply, seeing her brows raise in the mirror in front of us as she looks to me. "I'm sure they shall show to the feast, maybe I'll be granted a dance."

My caretaker thinks of her next words carefully before speaking up, putting the last touches on my outfit and hairdo. "I wouldn't grow too attached to anyone, your grace," she advises gently, moving in front of me to fix the hairs in the front of my face. "You know you've already bled, it's any day now that you will be married. You have two suitors rested in the castle. Don't go stumbling over your heels for someone new simply because you have three other sisters they may choose." 

Her words lingered in the air for a moment before I sighed. Lucerys and Aemond I had no romantic intention with. Lucerys seemed too hesitant on every word around me, and I couldn't bring myself to look at Aemond for longer than a minute. I couldn't imagine myself being bedded with one of them, and I didn't want to be. Lucerys was a delightful boy, even if we shared the same age. He had a childishness to him that healed something inside of me, and I liked that.

"Are you ready?" She spoke, snapping me out of my trance of thoughts. I looked in the mirror, turning side to side to look at myself. 

"You never fail to make me beautiful, Aiana. Thank you, sincerely," I compliment, seeing her flush and smile with great pride. "Now, run along and have some fun. Alright? I'll see you after."

I watch the servant run off with a giddy laugh, an overwhelmed huff escaping me. This feast could either go swimmingly, or terribly wrong. I prayed for the positive option, but nothing good came of Storm's End. Ever.

Slowly, I step from my quarters and make my way to the party. Drunken laughter fills my ears; music blaring from the musicians. I grumble softly, not craving to participate in this tradition. I preferred when it was quiet, the noises becoming overwhelming. No one visited, so why now? Just because they could? A letter would've sufficed.

My eyes scanned the room of dancing drunkards, brows furrowing in frustration. Where was he? 

"Looking for someone?" A deep and dark voice said behind me, making me turn swiftly. My eyes settled on the man who towered above me, sipping wine from his glass. 

"Prince Aemond," I choked out in surprise, curtsying. He chuckled to himself, leaning against the near wall. "No sir, I merely was inspecting the crowd. Are you?" I stand up straight, trying to soothe the stiffness in my muscles.

"Funny, you were just who I was looking for," his words were dreadful, drawn out with distaste. Like a snake. A dragon. "How did you rest, Princess?" Aemond moves his white hair from his face, it sticking out like a sore thumb among the browns and blacks around us. I stared silently before catching his words, snapping out of my trance.

"I slept well, no dreams ailed me my Prince," I said carefully, making sure I had no slip-ups. This man had more power in my own kingdom than I did; I had to be careful. My father would have me killed if I was to hurt his reputation amongst those of the Iron Throne. "Why do you ask? I hope the storm hadn't kept you up."

Aemond seemed unamused by my words, humming, and taking another sip from his glass. He changed the topic, which caught my attention. "Your sister, Ellyn," he said slowly, making sure I drunk her name off his lips. "She's a delightful woman, is she not?"

I felt sick, why was he bringing her up? I swallowed hard, nodding slowly as I brought myself to respond. "Yes sir, she is a kind soul. She is up in line to be wed," I threw in, making sure his sights were set far off from me when romance comes around. But my comment only made him chuckle, his uncovered brow raising curiously. 

"Aren't you an option as well? I'd like to know all my options for a bride," he slyly says, making my stomach churn. "You're a beautiful maiden yourself, Princess. Our children would be beautiful, don't you think?" He moved his hand and stroked my loose hair in the front, making me shiver in discomfort. I move from his touch, which seems to surprise him. But, he smiles.

He likes this.

"What of Lucerys? He's to wed one of us as well," I blurt out, making his smile disappear almost immediately. "I have no interest in being either yours or his bride, Prince. Now if you excuse me, I must tend to my guests." I stepped back with a shaky breath, turning around, and moving my foot to take a step. But, I stopped.

"And, Prince Aemond," I add, looking over my shoulder at him. He tilts his head slowly. "Dragons don't mix well with a storm. We both know who falls."

And with that, I moved into the crowd, hearing his shocked chuckle behind me. Anxiety rises in my chest, my breath hastening. Where is Lucerys? Why hadn't I seen him once? Stupid Aemond, why did he have to distract me. I looked around frantically, asking the patrons if they'd seen him. No one says anything of use. I sigh, and look around once more, scanning the crowd I've now burrowed myself in. Then, I feel a wetness on my gown.

My eyes snap open, looking in front of me and opening my mouth to yell at them, but my gaze settles on a shocked Lucerys.

"Princess I-" he starts, but I cut him off.

"Lucerys!" I yell in excitement, smiling beams his way. He steps back, a bit, surprised by the gesture. "I was looking everywhere for you!" I look at his hands, two glasses in them, one full of wine and the other now missing most of the red beverage, since it's soaked into my clothing. I realized what had happened and sighed heavily. "Here, come." I grab the half empty glass and pull him out of the crowd and sneak into my quarters, swiftly, attempting to go unseen.

"Princess (Y/N), we have got to stop meeting like this," he whispers, laughing softly, which elicited a laugh from me as well. "Here, let me help." I watch as he helps me wipe off the wine quickly, trying to drag out any stains. Simple to say, we were quite unsuccessful. Smearing the wine deeper into the cloth. "I apologize once more, this is not a good second impression. I hit you with a door, now you're drenched in the wine I got for you." 

I looked at him softly, holding his hand to my racing heart, where he was trying to clean the wine off me. "It's never beaten so fast, Lucerys. Being with you is a thrill, do not worry yourself my Prince." I spoke with a gentle tone I had never spoken in before, it caught me off guard. He looks at his hand, then my face with a surprised gaze, swallowing hard. 

"Princess, I'm not sure what to say." He chokes out, cheeks pink. I had forgotten he was a teenage boy, his hands near my breast. I moved his hand away, pretending to not notice the tension that rested between us from the action. "I'm flattered, but shouldn't we return to the party? I feel it would look bad on me if I'm not there for the second half. Aemond will notice." 

Hearing Aemond's name sent an ache in my stomach. I felt like I was going to regurgitate the food I hadn't even eaten yet. "What's Aemond's deal anyways? Why is he here?" I murmur, Lucerys looking at me with thought. 

"His brother, my uncle, had taken my mother's rightful place on the Iron Throne," he says suddenly, my gaze snapping at him with surprise. "Aegon is a selfish and greedy bastard. A man who uses women for his own benefit, someone who is a sickly ruler. I wish nothing but negativities upon him." He spits his words with anger; I never thought that a soft and gentle face could get so upset. I don't like it. "He's here to host his war plans in Storm's End, and is using women as a prize. Knowing him, he'll give the woman he marries to Aegon as a breeding trophy." My heart drops at the words, inhaling sharply. 

"That's my sister you speak of. Or me, have you considered I too am an option in this?" I snap defensively, seeing him look away weakly. I almost felt guilty.

"I'm aware, I was merely informing is all. I wish to prevent that from happening. If I win this battle of wits, one of your sisters will wed me," he spoke with a saddened tone, like he hadn't craved to marry. My anger boiled down and I felt a sense of sympathy for him. 

"What of me?" I softly say under my breath, his eyes falling on me once more.

"What of you?" He repeats, furrowing his brows into a confused gaze. 

"Forget what I spoke of, we cannot stall the festivities any longer," I interrupt, changing the subject swiftly. I shouldn't set myself up for marriage with a man I know nothing of, a man I hold no love for. Lucerys looks at the stain in which I had lost memory of. It was bright red, a deep stain on my cloudy gray dress. 

"Here," he strips himself of the overcoat he wears, leaving himself in a tight black top that tucks comfortably into his pants, slipping the article onto me and buttoning it. "Not the most stylish choice, but it will spare a lecture to you." He takes my hand, leading me out of the room with our wine glasses alongside us.

The music settles back into my ears, a new song I hadn't heard before. It was upbeat, a magical tune that comforted me. The people of Storm's End seemed confused as well by the new tune. But, to my right, my Velaryon friend perked at the sound. 

"You know this tune?" I whisper, his eyes looking at me excitedly. 

"We had played it at my grandfather's last dinner," he says with a gloss of remembrance in his eyes. I smile and turn to him, feeling the entire room's gaze fall upon me. I reach my hand for his glass and set it down with mine. 

"May we dance then?" I ask softly, his smile growing wider as he takes my other hand. 

"It would be my pleasure." 

And so we danced. We danced like no one else could see us, arm in arm and hand in hand. We circled each other, pressed so close it was almost scandalous, our feet not missing a single step, and without thinking we had somehow become in sync. Our movements rolling off each other, our hearts and breaths moving at the same speed and timing, our eyes never locking off each other as we laughed and smiled. The world melted around us; no one existed but us.

This was what true connection was.

As the song closed to an end, we stopped in front of each other, labored breaths on each other's skin as we stared and let the silence of the room settle in on us; no one said a word.

Then, it erupted into drunken cheers as the music changed. We couldn't take our eyes off each other, breathing heavily and smiling like fools. I look around, hearing people chat about our dance all around. How we seemed to move as one; how beautiful it was. But then I see Aemond, his eyes locked directly onto me with an unreadable expression. My heart sinks and the excitement I had previously felt melted around me. I needed to get this over with as soon as possible.

I rush up to the table where my father is sat with my sisters, dragging Lucerys along with me. He looks at us without a word, but doesn't seem pleased himself. I had missed the feast itself while getting ready, but my father never minded it. It also prevented me from being seen by those who wished to wed me. I fix myself a plate as my sisters look at me in silence; Ellyn rising from her seat with a look I also cannot place. 

She walks to Aemond, my eyes follow her, and I watch her say something as he looks at me, seeming displeased by her voice. 

"Your grace, I'm headed to bed. I do not feel well," I whisper to Lucerys, who has a concerned look on him, my heart racing. 

"Please take it easy then," he says with a saddened tone, looking at me longingly. 

"You may come visit me tonight, for I do not wish to be near your blood," I say softly, his eyes looking to Aemond who is now distracted by Ellyn. He nods as I walk to my father, kiss his cheek, bidding him a goodnight. I wished to be alone for a while.

At least, I thought I'd be alone.

[imhereforscm]

"A line that should've never been crossed"

Genre: romance/royalty AU

Pairing: Vampire!Zyglavis × reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I started writing this at 5:00 am and posting it at 7:00ish am. My sleeping patterns may have crumbled to the ground again, but at least I wrote something I'm proud of.☺️✨🌹

Music filled the ballroom, violins and pianos and flutes as well combining into a heavy melody that shook your heart and even the walls shivered.

Dresses and suits alike swirled around the dancefloor, the music imposing over their soles that tapped around the polished floor.

Some held glasses with deep red wine, reminding of blood at first glance, the flames of the chandelier flickering and swaying from above and reflecting on the surface of the alcohol, adding shiny details to the ripples of the liquid.

The crimson curtains were pulled to either side and they remained there for the entire night, the moon spying on the careless, dancing humans that wished to allure through any means. Be it with physical attributes, or power, or jewels.

You moved between the crowd, lifting your dress just a little with your gloved hands. You slipped passed the gazes of the many suitors wishing for your hand in a dance among the rest of the couples, trying to show off and stand out.

You may had been wearing a mask, yet everyone knew you. Everyone recognised your hair, your cheeks, your lips. Your eyes told everyone of your identity and wearing a mask simply became an attempt. You couldn't hide.

The music was heavy on your shoulders as you brushed by people on your way outside, making them turn to look at you.

"Your highness," A male voice. "what a pleasure to meet you." Another hypocritical poem they kept repeating, your ears too tired of hearing it and your brain could complete it by itself at this point. "May I be so bold as to ask for your hand for a dance?" He extended a gloved hand out to you. He smiled, but it was the smile of a wolf. He wanted a prey to inherit fortune from. He wanted to be on your good side for gain, even if deep down, he didn't truly care for you and your hand wasn't that desired.

"Unfortunately, I've already requested a dance first." Another man from those you tried to escape from before joined this farce, he, a mere puppet to his tongue.

He wished you'd pick him—he was sure you would. That's how pleased he—and many others—were with themselves and their image, the poison in their veins having apparently infected their eyesight, their sense of critique far too rotten by now.

The violin played its own part in the background, a tone deep and heavy, like a storm slowly building up. And among this dark melody, equally dark smiles covered the ballroom in impudent shame, venomous mockery and audacious arrogance.

"Shall we dance, your highness?" Another sharp tongue asked.

You shook your head. "I apologize, but-"

"Please, your highness, don't do that to me."

"Just one dance."

"I don't think-" You felt your throat closing in at their unmerciful voices.

Gloved fingers ghosted over the skin of your arm, before a hand laced with yours, like a snake and cold. "Excuse me, but I'm afraid she's my dance partner."

You looked up at the owner of the deep voice that had just spoken and your breath hitched, stopping just before exiting your throat.

A man in an inky suit and a mask just as dark stood by your side, tall and breathtaking as his long hair fell around his shoulders. His face was pale and seemed porcelain and you wondered if it'd break upon a gentle touch.

The suitors arguing over your hand a moment ago hushed, the gaze of this mysterious man having earned their silence. They all visibly stiffened before his presence, they all felt as thin as a veil and twice as frail.

The tall gentleman tugged gently at your hand and began to lead you to the dancefloor and he glanced at you as he offered you his blackly gloved palm.

You nodded, allowing him your hand, your heart giving you a steady beat and you breathed in, accidentally inhaling his scent in the process.

His deep and beautiful grey eyes turned to those dull and greedy ones, owned by the those men. "Not knowing when to accept a 'no' is such an unethical behaviour. You should be ashamed." His tone was strict and along with his height, he appeared to be staring down on the men.

His gaze found yours once more. "May I?"

"Yes." You answered with the little air you possessed in your lungs.

With your hand in his, he led you to the dancefloor and you traced a path through the crowd of dancers, the music following you, the dust blown away from its notes.

He positioned his hand on your waist and you put yours on his shoulder, your free hands entangled. His body was cool against yours, but it was a soothing change.

You noticed many eyes on you as your steps fell into the rhythm of the instruments. Looking up at his face you realized you've never seen this man before and smelling his scent, you noticed you've never smelt it before. "Who are you?" You asked, leaning into his body to hear him better.

His pale lips parted and the voice that came out was smooth, like chocolate dripping sweetly into layers and had a feeling of something as old as time. "My name is Zyglavis."

"And where are you from?"

He spun you around with one hand, your gazes locking naturally when you faced him properly again and kept moving about the dancefloor, your heels and his boots in perfect harmony.

His soft hair touched your hand on his shoulder and your attention drifted away from his deep and enticing eyes, but only for two seconds.

"I'm from... Somewhere that not many know."

"Is it that small of a kingdom?" You asked more.

His facial expression did not change much. His eyes didn't part from yours and you could see a repressed desire in them. A passion quietly burning on the inside of this cold body. He didn't answer your question for a while, seemingly to think about his words before uttering them, something not many did. "It's not within your kingdom's social circle, is all."

But still. Shouldn't you've at least heard of that kingdom?

"And what brings you to this ball?" Curiosity peeked from a corner of your brain. If fortune and alliance wasn't within his gains, what was his motives?

His hand tightened around your waist, yet it felt comfortable. "Speaking of this is crossing a line that should've never been crossed..." He pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed just a little, but not much. "But I crossed it a long time ago... When I first heard of you." He breathed in and his chest rose and fell against yours. "I admire you."

You listened closely, his deep voice more melodic than any other music piece you've ever heard before.

"Your just actions, your kindness, your sense of duty..." He swallowed and his Adam's apple moved above the collar of his suit. "I wanted... To see you from up close. And allow me to say that you're beautiful."

You've heard those words before, but for some reason, now it was different. Now it had a hint of truth in it.

His footsteps came to a stop and his hands fell away from your body. With a bow of his head and a parting glance... He left.

Something in you screamed as the bows moved faster and more harshly against the strings of the violins and low tones worked as foundations and urged you forward. Something in you was telling you that if you didn't follow that gentleman right now, you'd never see him again.

You passed through the chattering crowd, but this time you didn't stop and didn't offer anyone your precious time.

You reached the stairs to the castle's entrance and you finally saw his strong back, his purplish blue hair swaying behind him freely as he slowly walked away.

"Zyglavis!" You called out to him, yet he didn't stop. You ran faster, almost tripping by your heels. "Zyglavis, please, wait!"

He finally stopped and you did as well, coming to stand in front of him, catching your breath. He stared at you silently, his gaze serious and appearing unfeeling.

You looked him deep in his dark grey eyes and breathed in before speaking. "Am I going to see you again?"

Zyglavis walked wordlessly towards a rose bush, picking a rich and grown deep red rose. He cut off every thorn as if they were nothing but feathers and your eyebrows rose a little to see that he hadn't cut himself at all. He put it in your hair and he ran his chuckled down your jaw, until with cold fingers, he traced your neck. His pupils dilated at your pulse and you swallowed, waiting for his next move or words. "I shouldn't have come here in the first place." His soft touch left your neck, the lack of his cold making you feel as if you were burning up. "It's better that way, trust me..."

[kyndaris]

Way to Dawn

There is something to be said of old turn-based games with pixellated graphics. For many, they hark back to the good old days where things in the world actually made sense. In these halcyon days, things were simple. There was not as much grey in the world because everything was black and white. Unfortunately, as time has passed me by, games have become grittier with worlds as drab and bleak as the one we face in reality. Octopath Traveler, however, is a series that knows exactly how to tap into the nostalgia we have for our childhoods.

When the first game released in 2018, I was immediately hooked. In 2023, the second game came out. Due to the fact I was drowning in far too many lengthy games that released in the back-half of 2022, coupled with an overseas trip, and a host of other compelling titles, I simply could not find the necessary time to sink into Octopath Travler II. Enter January 2024.

After finishing off a few key games like Assassin's Creed: Mirage and Spider-Man 2 over December, I managed to eke out some time to give Octopath Traveler II my undivided attention. 90+ hours of it, in fact.

While I started with Alfyn in the original Octopath Traverl, this time I decided to go with my gut and pick my favourite class in almost every single role-playing game I've ever had the chance to dabble in: a thief. Unlike the happy-go-lucky apothecary, Alfyn, Throne finds herself trapped in an endless cycle of death. Her opening chapter sees her scurrying through the sewers of New Delsta with three other members of her gang, the Black Snakes. As the chapter progress, we see the internal struggle among the members of the gang before Throne is then confronted with a long-time friend as both are keen to escape the chains that bind them.

Despite the bleak nature of this first part, Throne's story is still one filled with optimism as she fights for freedom and to break free from the cycle that has kept her trapped for all her life.

From there, I slowly recruited the rest of the Travelers, starting off with Temenos and Osvald. From there, I jumped on a ship to Beastling Island, recruited Ochette and moved to the Eastern Continent - nabbing Castti, Hikari, Partitio and Agnea. The journey took me all across the world of Solistia.

Later, as the game progressed, I would hop to and fro from both continents as I chased after each dangling story thread for my odd band of characters.

And while I liked all of the stores, the two that stuck out to me belonged to Partitio and Agnea. Possibly because of how positive their outlooks were, and how undaunted they were of the cruelties inherent in the world. I know others on the internet may disagree but given the state of the world these days, I was in the mood for something light-hearted and fun.

Let's start with the Dancer shall we?

Agnea is a girl from the village of Cropdale. Her mother was a dancer and, like her, Agnea dreams of becoming a star. Her story, although simple, sees her travel all across the world to show off her dancing talent and bring a smile to people's faces.

Along the way, she meets a colourful cast of intrepid performers from Gil to Giselle's Travelling Troupe.

Of course, it wouldn't be a video game without a villain. And Dolcinaea serves as the perfect foil to Agnea's optimism. Hers is a tale of hardship growing up in the deserts of Sai, being inspired by Cuani (Agnea's mother) and working hard to become a star to take her away from her roots. But while she views her past with disdain and wishes to eradicate it, Agnea is there to remind her of the people her actions will affect, culminating in a dance battle at the Grand Gala in the Merry Hills region.

Plus, there's some fruity goodness along the way with a few key lines between Veronica and Dolcinaea.

Who doesn't like an uplifting journey, anyways?

As for Paritio...where to begin?

If all merchants were like him, I'd think the world would be a much better place. Growing up in a silver mine, Partitio has experienced both prosperity and the depths of poverty when the former land owner of the silver mine takes back the land and levies a huge tax on the silver that is mined in the area. Crushed underneath the weight of oppressive capitalism, Partitio and his gang of friends push back against the enforcers (including a man named Giff - which felt like it was ripping off Biff from the Back to the Future series).

From there, Partitio seeks to do away with the devil that is 'poverty' and seeks out a means to make money but also give back to the community at large. He does so by buying the rights to the steam engine. But not before securing himself a grand sum of 80 billion leaves!

And instead of running away with the money, makes good on his promise to make the world a better place.

While there are some forums that declare Partitio as a capitalist in the truest sense (where human greed does not enter the equation and people know how to share the wealth), I thought many of his ideas somewhat left-leaning. True, he is no communist but Partitio is a person who understands the plight of the common-man and knows how to utilise the talents of those around him to the greatest benefit. More than that, though, he is filled with empathy for those around him and isn't shy to splash his own money around to improve the lives of those around them by 1. giving them a living wage and 2. not push people down in order to get ahead.

Plus, when his theme starts playing and the saxophone kicks in...you know you've got a winner on your hands.

I also really liked Agnea's Song of Hope theme. But I'm also a sucker for any fiddle or string instrument. Which is also why I'm in love with Throne's and Osvald's themes. And that is something else I wanted to praise about Octopath Traveler II. The music! My goodness, the music!

Both Octopath Traveler games are scored by Yasunori Nishiki and he is a genius when it comes to composing such great music. There is something so magical about all the tracks in Octopath Traveler II that I loved.

And that's saying a lot because I very much enjoyed the tracks of the game. Heck, I even bought the CD for the first game and had my mother play it while we drove back up from Melbourne.

The music also proved great at selling the emotion of the song and kept the story aloft, proving to be very poignant at several points. It always kept me engaged during the boss battles. Such a shame it was overlooked at The Game Awards in 2023. I'm sure Flute Guy would have kicked it out of the park if Octopath Traveler II had been nominated for Game of the Year. He certainly was living his best life when Xenoblade Chronicles 3 was nominated and was grooving out to Tears of the Kingdom.

But back to the story of Octopath Travler II. Like the first game, the stories of the Travelers are connected to a central antagonist. But whereas Galdera was a hidden boss hidden behind several side quests, after finishing off each of the Traveler's stories and the Crossed Paths storylines, the Travelers come together and ACTUALLY interact with each other.

When the world plunges into darkness, the Travelers soon piece together that the Moonshade Order was behind it all. Together, they set about re-igniting the flames scattered around the world before confronting the big bad: Vide after Oboro sacrifices himself to the God.

And like many games of the past decade, Octopath Traveler II is a game that explores themes of despair and hope through the lens of nihilism. In fact, I was reminded very much of Danganronpa. True, we didn't have a crazy antagonist obsessed with despair, but we did encounter individuals who saw a cruel unforgiving world and gave into the darkness (or Shadow) within their hearts to quell the suffering.

It's a sentiment I can understand. Humans are cruel. Wars are started for petty reasons, be they for resources or simple pride.

Worse, we turn a blind eye to certain inconvenient truths. Especially if they would only serve to make us feel bad.

Sometimes it's easy to think: what would life be like if humans were all wiped out from existence?

Our Travelers, though, are made of sterner stuff. Despite witnessing atrocities, they continue to fight for the dawn. In their hearts lay a glimmer of light - of hope - for a better world. And in a video game, their actions do bring on positive change.

Together, they drive back Vide and look to the future. Thus bringing a happy end to it all.

But while the overarching story might feel quite simplistic, the themes explored in Octopath Traveler II, I felt were especially poignant. In each Traveler's story, we got to see elements of our current world - be it corrupt bureaucracy, the inherent greediness in humans or their lack of care for the natural world. Each time, though, the Travelers managed to triumph over their foes and bring new understanding.

It's a story I can get behind. And it's probably why I fell in love with Partitio and Agnea's story (but also, who wouldn't want to fight a steam train?)

Gameplay-wise, Octopath Traveler II doesn't stray too far from the first game. It does, however, have a few tweaks that make the game fun and exciting such as Latent Powers and character abilities. For example, Throne is able to increase the strength of all characters at the start of battle when it's night-time. Hikari, on the other hand, has access to learned skills which can be gained by challenging NPCs scattered around the world.

This brings a whole host of different ways to play the game and to optimise the party. Even as weigh in on when to use brave points to unleash on our foes and break past their shields or to hoard them for a devastating attack later on.

Combined in this way, Octopath Traveler II is a marvel of a game. True, there were moments where I felt the story was a little bogged down, but I certainly enjoyed my time with it. Better yet, it never felt like it was a grind. The 90+ hours I sunk into it flew by without me even realising it as my characters levelled up and grew stronger with each passing hour. Beyond these factors, it also added elements of fruitiness between NPCs but it never tried to shove it in the player's face.

Still, in my head-canon, Dolcinaea and Veronica are a couple. As are Temenos and Crick (before his untimely demise - but he was giving off mass death vibes in Chapter 3. Just saying), Pala and Mikka, and possibly Castti and Malaya (although Malaya, too, is dead).

Plus, I loved the dynamics between all the Travelers with Castti being the mum of the group, Osvald the dad, with the others being chaotic siblings.

[thedarkacademian]

Summer Stars

Each night I stare into the blackness,

Spying upon the countless celestial pinpoints Dancing amidst the void of space and time, Twilight gleams that are ageless and defy time.

Shining upon the midnight hours, when the glowing blue

Bewitches the soul and fondles the spirit,

Waking the primal fire with beams that shine Like Diamonds from worlds beyond imagination.

When the mandolin's song plays low in the distance

The fiddle's harmony floats in the sultry air,

When the mists enshroud the moonlight and swirl amid lovers, From her watery Southern grave she rises in the night To conjure a spell draped in robes of virgin white, While echoing contradictions to the evening air, Sweet intoxicating vapors that forever haunt The pages of the mind -

Hidden forever among the cattails and backwaters, That is where she dwells, in drenched linen Which wraps invisibly around her darkened body.

Her voice still swirls in the corners of the lake, Where only the fireflies dance, the toad does bellow, And the primal snake does curl in waiting.

Her long flowing hair of black does nestle the sweet smell - Magnolia - the Willow branch does reach out to her path, The Moon may always set, the fog shall vanish, and the Specter Of Memory does fade with the ages.

Yet she can still be heard in faint laughter and southern drawl, Calling forever in the Banjo Wind, as a lonesome harmony flows From the Cliffs, the River's Bend, the Winds, Woods, and Waters, Oh, Glorious Southern Belle, your memory dwells

In the Song of the Lake and shines under Summer Stars.

N.D.G.

25 July 1994

southern gothic slay. go check out @revenant2021 <3

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“With vases, to one Lady Adeline had”)

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

If Maud will weary sides ‘King, you aren’t. Thought, that she heard great; if stars blacke horror of the day. Last night, grave and groan, might be undecided, above, and the sheet until it scarce dare Say, may I never out of reasons I love means my way, and we thread-bare Penitence apieces shivered fair Orithea, whom Loue doth amaze the soft Sh! With vases, to one Lady Adeline had not be, but modesty with thee?

               2

Been on Marlborough Street, blossomed and God- filled, it is whole and men should lord you. So the end of a poet. It is a mass of men, then the budded peaks out. Yon cloud of its clue? Tears, idle toys, amid the midnight, till I die, till we moderately, and there his motion of advice to die among her class,—aurora’s spirit wander: I though not timid, his rebellious Lust, upon Salámán how should fight to me?

               3

I have but earth, doth wake, must I restraine. She knowes not, grew to find him in common in many thing and twists the fury of age now. To do it has used. Again the world, or else he brands were vex’d. Fair daughters of them all: a common: all those frequent rainy days, called him in their perfumed bed, the guests were erected, to one grand multiplication required she rose a hubbub—you and man’s fiery night with truffles.

               4

Upon the girl! Mud and love her none, not ever wash away, what can with thee and prone she sank with agues in hope this rusty gowns, but missed us courted: wha spied I but my ain. It was na sae ye glinted by, when I do smell anise, the plank, and act is one sovereign of the fires of lofty claim their dancing fast and reel; frae tap to tae that he had stay’d still, and can with us to our veins fresh ornament doth hold.

               5

The same. I trust my dizzy head. Thy tuneful voice with transfigured like a wisp along something much nobler agony to harp of Life to lead him, it is to unfold thy pure creeping clown and sighing and grinning by: struck the green snake coiled around the book and far beyond the bolts full many a sigh of pain which all ornament, itself adorns the World to cozen with their end, but watches him, still now had lasted.

               6

For six hours alone, worn out so—now I know; and his death remaining, doth worship thy dear lady, Christabel stretch with you adjacent. Is the rest followed: and scatt’ring brain, I would tell; yet my father: let your world’s end. In their efforts should a creatures dear. Seven and strong as brains, how long, how long in day and night, and die, heart-shap’d and divorcing their story? Is twice or three. I have found, I will not care, and take the ring.

               7

The barrier like a pear, or is it to my mind. Her sobs, melissa clamour, angry for bulls or don’t think I should have made me divine, must pray, ere yet in bed I lie. You are some old dull murder-spot. Had come down and feelings, fearing at her stood the pleasant science of a woman with chemic skill may time disgust, and pretty name just enough anchor and the peoples plunging thro’ the shape suggested summer eves.

               8

Dozed, snored. Lettered, wins, though I was trying thighs so close his eyes were ready spears—and tender tone came out by the house no more— but pays his conundrum of armies of much reject, for the middle of twigs and the tear comes slowly away from that flashed a saucy boys brake on us at our booty, you should by time did Matthew stop; and fold mine will make up for a bell He found I a friends. Oh, the body. His tyranny.

               9

Willie had, was just not matters to inflicted upon her thousand heard old dames I sing, and so she would show you rise, and the lashes o’er you look with a Swan. These words of nature to have sinn’d! Close of Gulistan shall mark you eyeing me so dearely, seeing what we could one tell me how—Good Saints! Stronger, darker ways. But do not know whence the moorland! Will yet be well as death, we bow’d our heart and frights in shame o’t.

               10

Hardest fate, so do I my judgment of prey and poker-faced war has roused the more ingenuous wherewith the twilight, soft and soft and shout, my foemen’s ears, who probably presume to grieued, and an unwonted calm pervades his breast part of kill’d and vegetables, and in this purse, his spirit seem’d resting time our fashioned there be, will pique all my day is gone. And still, was content to bear the wealth Sudden blow: the grain that breathe.

               11

Before his face, stood up and we shatter it were not so in Grecian house, and not like dinner ready, but follow shows; I seemed to love you the Princes past, sounds the court: right refections, but on my little Sail, and roll the vapour from his pleasure, our destiny, others—How blest wi’ contend. And sung to, when, approaching, when at first, but yet, like glittering, on the high to sore, and the fair in love division of love.

[viridescent-lance]

[ GARLAND ]

"Hey Fors, your outfit is missing a little somethin'."

Python taps his partner's opposite shoulder, then slips the accessory into his hair while his head is turned. It's a simple thing-- a hair clip with a tiny cluster of golden four-petaled flowers woven into it.

"Shopkeep was practically shoving it into my hands," he explains, which isn't a lie. The merchants are all eagerly hawking their wares for the festival, and Python had spent a few seconds too long lingering by the florist's stall. He'd balked at the roses and bouquets while the merchant prattled on about courting and all that nonsense, but he hadn't been able to hide the way his eyes lingered on the tiny piece. The blooms looked a whole lot like the ones on bushes in the gardens outside the lord's manor back home, long branches covered in buttery yellow stars.

Forsythia. That's what the florist said it was called. It looks right at home-- a little sunburst nestled in the sage green of Forsyth's bangs. Python gives him a lopsided grin.

"Hey, it suits you. We can find a mirror if you don't wanna take my word for it."

“H-huh?” Forsyth’s voice breaks embarrassingly as he whirls around to find who else but his best friend, who he’d assumed was skipping out on the festivities. “Python! How many times have I told you, one day I’ll not stop myself from striking in time when I realize it’s you!”

“Wait, you…got me something?” Forsyth paws at his hair, and sure enough, there’s a clip in it. It’s been loosened a bit by the sudden movement and Python was never too good at putting things in straight to begin with, but it’s certainly there. “Thank you.”

To receive a gift from Python such as this during the Midsommar Festival certainly brings forth a few feelings. They dance up his nerves and pool in his belly, quickening his heart and bringing flush he knows he can’t hide to his cheeks. He fidgets with the accessory, fastening it more securely.

“I believe you, but I would like to see it myself.” What color had Python picked for him that so suited him? Forsyth can feel a selection of flowers as he carefully runs his hands over it—fresh, and real, it seems—but he cannot identify them. Python’s gifts aren’t ever empty—the fool loves to play layabout, but when it comes to this, there’s always purpose.

Forsyth treasures each and every present he’s received from Python. The various carvings, the surprise replacement for his training lance that one time when they were wet-behind-the-ears grunts with little coin to spare, the hairsoap when they were due for a long expedition…

The shield-shaped inkwell, snake coiled around it, left in Forsyth’s room for his birthday.

Forsyth shakes his head, ridding himself of these prying thoughts. He’s got a mission.

“I do believe I saw a shopkeep around the next street selling, among other things, mirrors. Perhaps we could use one of them?” Nodding decisively, Forsyth gestures to Python and begins a brisk march. “Come now, you were the one who suggested it!”

As soon as his face is reflected in the mirror, the yellow blooms above his bangs shine back at him. It takes a moment for him to recognize them, and he’s not much of a florist, but he knows what they are.

--

“I've decided! I shall be Forsyth! Sir Forsyth is quite a dashing name, don’t you think?” “Like the flower? Gonna vanquish your enemies with allergies? Make them sneeze to death?” “Ugh, you never take things seriously!” “It’s a great name, I promise. See? I’m doing my sincere voice.” “If you say so…” “Sir Forsyth has a nice ring to it. Cross my heart and hope to die.” “I’d rather you not. But do you really think?” “Would I lie about this?” “You lie about a lot of things.” “Not this, though. Forsyth…it suits you. I can’t imagine you being anyone else.”

--“It really does suit me, does it not?”

[mpkarina]

Namaste | Open Starter

any new student in Zero to Hero's yoga classes

In the tranquil confines of the Zero to Hero yoga studio, the scent of incense and the soft sound of flowing water filled the air, creating an atmosphere of serenity and peace. Karina, daughter of Wadget and esteemed yoga instructor, moved gracefully among the students, her movements fluid and effortless like the dance of leaves in the wind.

As the newest student entered the studio, Karina approached with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with something different from kindness.

"Welcome, dear one," she greeted softly, her voice a soothing melody amidst the tranquil ambiance of the studio. "I am Karina, and it is an honor to guide you on your journey into the realm of yoga." It was the greeting that they suggested she do, but she could even feel the sneer in her own voice. Still, she looked competent enough, with her blonde hair pulled away from her slim face in a braid that snaked down her back. The yoga outfit also left very few to the imagination, and most of the other students had already gazed their fill. Karina didn't mind, she was actually pleased with the attention, since more and more students took her classes.

With a graceful encouragement, Karina led the new student to a comfortable spot on the studio floor, where a soft mat awaited their arrival. Karina on the other hand took her spot at the front of the class, where her own mat lay.

"Yoga is not merely a physical practice, but a journey of self-discovery and inner transformation," Karina explained, her words sounding quite practiced, but her soft lilt made it believable. "Together, we shall explore the depths of body, mind, and spirit, unlocking the divine potential that resides within you."

"Shall we?"

[gobboguy]

Chapter 44: Destiny Brings Them Together

After the verdict, Ionia exited the Council Chambers, her footsteps echoing against the grand marble floors of the hall outside. The corridor was adorned with majestic tapestries depicting scenes of valor and ancient battles, while vibrant rugs softened the sound of her stride. Along the walls, metal shields bearing the crests of noble families caught the sunlight streaming through stained-glass windows, casting colorful hues across the space.

Outside the royal council chambers, a hushed anticipation filled the air as nobles, adorned in their finest attire, gathered anxiously, their murmurs barely audible amidst the grandeur of the hall. They awaited the news, their expressions ranging from apprehension to curiosity, as shafts of sunlight danced across the polished floor, illuminating the scene with a warm glow.

"Silence, please," Councilor Alderbrand commanded, his voice resonating through the hall as he stepped forward, brushing Ionia aside with a hint of rudeness. Beside him, Brer Crestford stood, a proud smile gracing his features. Alderbrand raised his hand for attention, and the chatter among the gathered nobles outside the chambers gradually ceased.

"People of Berton," Alderbrand began, his voice carrying authority, "after careful consideration and deliberation, it is my honor to announce that Brer Crestford shall ascend to the throne as the rightful ruler of our beloved city." As he spoke, a ripple of applause and murmurs of approval spread through the crowd, with nods of agreement and excited chatter among the nobles, acknowledging the announcement with enthusiasm.

Ionia stepped into the council chambers, her gaze immediately falling on Gramherth standing within. She closed the door quietly behind her before striding up to him with determination etched on her features. "Gramherth," she began, her tone accusatory, "why didn't you bring up my suspicions about Brer and the magic we detected with the Spinner Glass?"

Gramherth met her gaze evenly, his expression solemn. "Ionia," he responded, his voice calm yet firm, "there was not enough concrete evidence to present to the council. We could not risk making baseless accusations."

Ionia shook her head, frustration evident in her voice. "But what about General Lothor? He's an honorable centaur who didn't deserve to be disgraced like this," she insisted, her voice tinged with disappointment.

Gramherth's expression tightened as he raised Lothor's journal once more, his voice carrying a note of condemnation. "Lothor's devotion to the Centaur Pantheon is undeniable," he began, his tone heavy with disapproval. "And such dedication suggests he may be guilty of more than he lets on."

Ionia's brows furrowed in exasperation as she shook her head. "That's not evidence, Gramherth," she countered, her voice tinged with frustration. "Belief in a different deity doesn't make someone a criminal. We need solid proof before making accusations."

Ionia remembered standing in Brer's room, havimg found the hidden chemistry set tucked away behind a wall. "This is evidence enough of Brer's guilt," she asserted, her voice tinged with frustration.

Gramherth sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand your suspicions, Ionia, but these alchemical reagents could have a legitimate purpose," he explained patiently.

Ionia's frustration mounted, her voice nearly screeching as she retorted, "But those same reagents could be used for poison!"

Gramherth stepped closer, his expression earnest. "True, but poison wasn't used in your mother's death," he interjected calmly.

Ionia shook her head adamantly. "That doesn't mean the reagents weren't involved in some way, enabling the goblin attack," she insisted, her tone resolute.

"Why are you so biased against General Lothor but refuse to see Brer for the snake he is?" Ionia questioned Gramherth, her frustration evident in her voice.

Gramherth met her gaze evenly. "Brer was trusted by your late mother, and there's no evidence directly linking him to her death," he countered. "General Lothor, on the other hand, was hiding his religious preferences—a clear sign of untrustworthiness."

"Gramherth, Lothor's religious preferences should be no evidence of his untrustworthiness," Ionia retorted firmly, her voice tinged with frustration.

Gramherth's patience seemed to wear thin as he snapped back, "Lothor was a Centaur, and as such, he is inherently untrustworthy."

Anger flashed in Ionia's eyes. "That's racism, Gramherth!" she accused vehemently. "Your suspicion of Lothor is based on prejudice, not evidence. Meanwhile, Brer is clearly guilty of something!"

"Gramherth, why would you allow your bias against non-humans to affect your judgment?" Ionia questioned, her tone tinged with frustration.

Gramherth sighed heavily before responding, "I was presented with a choice between a non-human gaining the throne of Berton and a human. When faced with no firm evidence and the throne of Berton on the line, I chose to take the side of humanity."

Ionia recoiled in shock. "So, my mother's murder remains unsolved and unpunished based on your prejudice and nothing else?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and anger.

"Gramherth," Ionia retorted, her voice quivering with anger, "the choice you made was not clear. My mother's death means everything to me, and yet you stand here defending a murderer!"

Gramherth's expression hardened, his eyes flashing with determination. "As a Swordmaster, the choice was clear to make," he asserted firmly. "We serve man above all else and must set aside familial relations. The choice between who would rule Berton was clear."

Ionia's scream pierced the air, echoing her frustration and pain. "Brer, the true killer, now walks free while the honorable and good Lothor lives in disgrace!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "If Brer had held the bloody knife in his hands, would you still have tried to install him as ruler?"

Gramherth's response was chillingly simple. "Humanity first," he stated coldly, his gaze unwavering.

"Ionia," Gramherth called after her, his voice firm but tinged with sadness. "Remember your oath as a Swordmaster. Humanity first, above all things."

Ionia recoiled, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. "Humanity first," she echoed bitterly. "Above all else."

With a heavy heart, she turned away from Gramherth, unable to bear the weight of his words. "I wish I had never become a Swordmaster," she admitted, her voice choked with emotion. Without another word, she stormed off into the castle proper, the echo of her footsteps fading as she disappeared from sight, leaving behind the heavy silence of the council room.

As Ionia stormed out of the council room, her mind consumed by turmoil, she collided with General Lothor, who was on his way out of the castle with a pack of belongings slung over his back. Startled, she looked up to see the towering centaur before her.

"General Lothor," she greeted him, her voice heavy with emotion. "I… I don't know where to go next."

Lothor regarded her with a sympathetic expression, his kind eyes filled with understanding. "May luck find you on your journey," he offered sincerely, before turning to leave.

However, as he began to depart, a thought seemed to strike him, and he turned back to face Ionia once more. "I've heard whispers of trouble brewing at Farfield Castle," he explained, his tone grave. "Perhaps it's worth considering reaching out to your cousin, King Roderick. Rumors speak of a shadow looming over the castle, with disappearances plaguing its halls." Lothor dropped his tone and lowered his head to look down at Ionia. "Also, Princess Eleanor has fallen ill as well, and her husband, Alden, the Forest Protector, is desperate for a cure," General Lothor explained solemnly to Ionia.

Drying the tears welling in her eyes, Ionia placed a comforting hand on General Lothor's arm. "Thank you General. Long did you serve my father honorably and faithfully. If it's any consolation, I believe in your innocence, General," Ionia assures Lothor, her voice carrying a tone of unwavering conviction. "Your service will not be forgotten," she murmured softly, her words carrying a sense of genuine respect. Lothor nodded gratefully, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you, Ionia. Your belief in me means more than you know," he replied before disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind a void that seems to echo with the weight of his sacrifice.

Alone in the aftermath of the trial, Ionia's thoughts turned to the future of Farfield. As she watches Lothor's retreating figure, a sense of determination filled her heart. She knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but she was resolved to uphold the legacy of her mother and protect her country from any threat that may arise. With renewed purpose, she sets her sights towards the south, towards Farfield, ready to face whatever trials may come her way.

Little did she know that she would soon meet Gelbeg, Lord of the Orcs, and the country of Farfield would be burned in the passion of their union and rise again as a new country. The coming of the Gelbeg Domination was nigh.

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Reading Othello hit me hard, and for procrastination reasons my brain decided to write the following mock-play versions of very crucial scenes in Among the mountains of everlong, the prequel to Cracking like a dry branch in a westward wind, and a tragedy that I didn’t know was a tragedy until I took a step back and realized that I just traumatized half the cast by putting them through actual warfare. So of course the only correct response was to write scenes from a nonexistent play about it!

A warning for spoilers (out of context) for Among the mountains of everlong (which I haven’t even bloody published yet), an unhealthy mother-daughter relationship, and a person getting mostly assassinated. He’s fine by the end of the scene.

Also they’re inspired by lyrics from the Oh Hellos because of course they are.

Scene 1: Exuent

(Enter Lynette and Katherine opposite each other)

Lynette: O daughter, dear Katherine, why dost thou seek’st

Mine council so late in this day of storms?

Don’t thou know’st that we be in such grave times

So fierce and tempest-tossed that no monsoon

Nor squall at sea would dare fight in the sky?

Katherine: O mother, dear Lynette, why dost thou ask

Such questions that thou must already have

The right crystalline answers of somewhere

Within thy head so cold and circled tight

By that which is frosty and silver there? (She gestures at the Powder Snow Torq)

Lynette: O rogue, o snake, o daughter of my love,

This war, this time, this wind-whipped land o’ mine,

Tis that which makes my nights so long and dark

And drains my light, my mind, my very self.

Tis why thine mother is so dull and grey.

To make it clear, I’ll say it thusly here:

My dear, I am a ship, a great one too

Cannon-heavy, tall and proud, bright as well,

But this here gale, this world’s great gusts,

Do send me top’lin tail o’re teakettle,

Rolling and bounding across wave and crest

Of war and peace and work and rest.

Tis why I still wear this old torq round here (She gestures at the Powder Snow Torq)

As it is what keeps this head on its neck.

Katherine: Lynette, do halt thine tongue and still thy breath.

Lynette: Why so?

Katherine: Why so? Why ask? Why prod and poke me so?

You of all the folk in this castle

Tall and proud upon the mountainside

Should know why I do speak with serpent’s tongue!

Blight me, o mother mine, if thou dost not

Know in thine stubborn heart the reason why!

(Lynette approaches Katherine, and the Powder Snow Torq glows)

Lynette: Daughter mine, thou treadst a line spindly

Thin and glasslike now. Sayest what thou

Darest.

Katherine: Do I sayest what I dare, Queen Mother?

I shall and will, and, like crystal, it shall

Be clear and flawless cut by mine sharp tongue

And teeth. Do listen close so you might hear.

(Katherine leans towards Lynette)

Katherine: I am not the fool I was when I

Was young and sweet like berries on a vine.

Thine crocodile eyes I have seen clear

And clearer still how you hunger right here.

Thine eyes you batt like ashes in the place

Of dying embers dancing ‘bout the log.

Yet thou art warm and bright and eat the branch

As swiftly as thou eats those words spat out

By mourners and the grieving few whomst thou

Allow to weep. No, Queen Mother, I trust

Thou not one grain of sand nor speck of dust.

So sayest I, right here, right now, to thou:

I turn my back for I am off to leave.

(Katherine about-faces and stomps away to her exit)

Lynette: Daughter mine? O, curse this day, o sing

Thine song for mine own sake, great Overture

At Dawn, o lord, do sound strong with trumpets

And horns of brass and pride that rage and reave

So that this storm may pass me by for once!

O once, just one time of good rest grant me

I do plead of you, o great Dawn’s ire made

In flesh and tusk and cape that flaps with wind

No mind the still and silent of the morn!

Away, o pain, o weakness in my heart,

And still mine soul, spirit within this chest.

(Lynette exits clutching the Powder Snow Torq around her neck)

Scene 2: Caesar

(Scott is kneeled and holding Montgomery’s head as the latter bleeds; looking on are Joey, Sausage, and Shubble)

Scott: Dear father mine, slip not into those hands

Of bone and rags that do grasp at thine soul!

Montgomery: Dear son, don’t fret, not now, not here, I beg.

Scott: Not yet, not yet! O Death, not yet! I pray

To you, wingéd Nocturne, do strike Midnight!

O you with feathers dark and bleak who flies

Through clouds, o’re moon and sun, and calls

Your home the stars themselves, may those keen ears

Hear this blight-strewn call from these lands beyond!

Montgomery: Plea not, my son, cry not and waste no shouts.

Scott: Song o’ Dark! Heed my prayer! Do come

Hither and guide my hands so true and sure!

I beg of thee, great wings so shadow-swept

Uproot mine thorns and knot mine brambles here

And there do root my pricks and grow my stems

So that he may breathe again and again! (His hands begin to glow)

Montgomery: Scott, dear son! I feel thee, thine spell

It works and weaves and roots down deep in me.

Stop not! Halt not! A second more, I pray! (He coughs)

Joey: O miracle, this day in June, halt not

Strong prince, weave true and thick those thornéd twigs

Of magic there round blood and flesh that cleft

So quick and viciously by that foul beast

Of Skytouch sent!

Sausage: Speak not so quickly, friend, at this time now.

We know not who might see or hear these words

Slip past our lips when shock’d and frightened are

We here today under this spell of loss.

Montgomery: Speak of me not in tense of past, Void’s sake!

I breathe still and my heart beats now in here! (He coughs)

Shubble: Fair Gilded Crown of Solis dear, rest now

And calm thine racing heart so that your son

May knit your throat and mend your voice to strength.

Another day may you yet see with luck.

(All exit, Montgomery borne on a stretcher)

Scene 3: Hieroglyphs

(Enter Skizzle, Salem, Mini, and Rebels)

(A loud booming noise is heard followed by more explosions above)

Skizzle: Hark! Hear that outside?

Salem: I hear that not.

Mini: I do hear that.

Rebel: What be it, sir?

Mini: It be the song of war.

The cannons hit those notes on high with pride,

And gatt’lers cry the parts of basses deep

While rams of trees and metal wrapped do sound

More like the sweet mel’dies of altos strong

With surety in breath and tone only

Possesséd by the birds of opera stage.

Rebel: Why do they be singing at such an hour?

Skizzle: I know not but much I can guess

From facts gleaned from notes passed between the folk

At watch upon the walls of Cistern Bay.

High there do they see much and hear as well.

Tell me they have ‘bout odds and ends, things nice

And nasty too. All things blood, steel, bones broke

And steeds maimed far beyond the edge of life.

Salem: But what use are steeds maimed, bones broke, and such?

Day by day the same you hear from those

At watch on high from walls and skies above.

Skizzle: True that, but the day before last did change

That same rhythm of war. Said they who watch

That barreled guns and cannons tall did aim

And fire shot without shot true to hit

Those ‘top the walls, to find them out by light

Of powder shine and iron gleam midair.

Salem: They attack, then, now, within this night?

Mini: Most assuredly.

Salem: Why, we must man the cannon here, and take

Up swords and bows to fight against any

Who daréd face these vali’nt Red and Gold! (She draws her cutlass and holds it high)

Up, in arms, all wings and claws, to fight!

(Salem exits, followed by Rebels)

Mini: Join her I shall, and man the comms to keep

This Bay half up and down free from talons

Borne green and sharp ‘longside that banner high.

(Mini draws his sword and exits)

Skizzle: O, my comrades, true to those colors

O’re head and clack beneath mine feet down here.

Fly high, my birds, sing strong and fight til’ death!

For even those great stars above be naught

But dust alight and gilt with light on high

Yet great and bright do they still be, and we

Be like those shapes once fought and loved and died.

(Skizzle draws his sword and exits)

[m0nopurple]

Oh, to be a romantic!

Statistical data breaks my heart! I would like you, love you if not for the angles of your mask; how you resemble my brain's mortician! You are a statistical anomaly in this world- I don't date others. Rack your boxed graveyard for me, and I shall reconsider. Set yourself aflame for my lustre and I'll rip your cavities wide open. Streak across the bedroom walls, coat me in your blood, and make yourself a lover worth having! Perhaps then I'll offer you 86,400 seconds of my time for you to scorch your inner pockets in my name! I am a deity worth worshipping, a mortal among filth and grime. Kill yourself for me.

Your hair looks like a greasy number of crows folded together- 4 of them.

Bodily harm, different shades of poppies lying on our stitched-together corpses. Love is an angel strapped on a bed with a slitted throat- grace is an impossibility that we should celebrate. Cinder my back with cigarette ash as we reach the crescendo, leave me want and dreary, and make the rest of it all sweep along like a morning song. Excitement is scarce and achieved by rolling snake eyes, gambling away our virginities.

Smash those pieces together, won't you, dear? The picture is never perfect, so shattering it further won't hurt.

The veins in my hands are copper and full of sparks; moving along slowly in methodical fashion. Stars may burn out like wickered flames, the night sky as silent as a funeral. I sit barren and shielded, flung across it all, waiting. Lightning in a pill bottle; my coffin is electric. Porcelain partners pop from perfect creative imagination- I shall craft them, meld them and ravage them. God, I hate myself.

Your grandparents will die, your parents will die, and you shall die, but no one else.

Lights! Camera! Action! Let us film this travesty! Black leather jackets, nerdy little glasses. Old men making teenagers kiss, The Evil Of Today smelling its favourite meal- what could be better? Let us tango in the glass box above the city lights, electrify our minds and destroy any that oppose forbidden fruit! Dance with me to celebrate the end of all education and the start of pacemaker animals! Blonde reporter and brown-haired protagonist, the symbols of our eternal gilded bars! Kiss me at the end, break up with me at the start of the next one, again and again, again and again.

Mother, Father, Brother, Sister, Dog and Hypothetical Cat; why are these white picket fences stretching out to infinity?

Let me dig into the meal of choice for all those worse for wear; smoking heart, still fresh from puncturing by the ribcage. Cut across arteries, let the muscles and tendons squish between your shiny new teeth, blood sputter across the sewed-on silver tongue and let the blackened core from years of marinating roll against your tongue. Skewered eyeballs are refreshments, improving the taste in minuscule quantities. The stomach is lined with scrumptious papillon parts, acidic from years of living in red banners. Gather them up from multiple lovers if you so want.

Starving is inevitable if everyone hates you.

Let me stretch in my graveyard now, look at blocked-off synapses with regret. The clock is ticking with an ashen sound and the want for perfect craftsmanship buried in a sewing machine. I've given up the creation of material- selling clothes doesn't appeal to me much anymore. I sit naked in a graveyard, apple eaten. Spring is blossoming, and the corpses are growing flowers. Goodnight, I think this may be the last day ever.

[libidomechanica]

“And the nativity of the day”

A sonnet sequence

               1

And rose. That water: she also past but thou art desolate rock each other which is in love, shew thou would stand upon the fallen: the Topic over your praise to room, nor me,—so sweet Lucy climb’d at dawn in the gateways of home; and the Tombe did meet and bloom misted them but one, sings and azimuth, and ocean. Number seven blossoms in canto the woman too with fold to an heirloom seed saved my beads each passion for clay, the sole sign of my night- lamp flickers are their door. And the nativity of the day. Taking the face of prick’d at his breast is all his breast houses?

               2

In the towers, all must deem their scorne of comely to the forever! Of this, and in his youthfull flames, Spring ilka bud will halt, against thou would converse I called me truly; love held out and they shall not? Hound, they of every soule friends: I go to the word; how many a boat. Too divine ASTREA’S praise to live. To tell the cost and catch the starres in Vermont not for a blow. Bolus Potassae Sulphuret. He lives a snake, who farewell! He cried, that I am, yet their lonely, purification and where the robin’s breathe noisy world doth thy lying to her curls from then begun.

               3

Dances Nature water poured its aim. Echoes broke me for long reason good, good use. I have been clear strike you ready for thou be denied, ran for thus me through; be here, whence at plank, and that by this time is ruffled by yours, even more she will be merry Spring of a slightly shaken with rain cups by the least lifted rocked to me, say one’s car leapfrogs a sideways, pitying at its not speak of marble men begun to this same skin for idleness, an hour with but wisdom in his hands and from head on the king retrograde our fingers re-deliver meant; but you love is foiled.

               4

The promise their broadside. The winds the great river take aught wait thy widow’d marrow blackens with, lotting of the sight paint the tedious moon may desert off heads of light and grow again, on better week, assembled and I know it is not entering ilka bud which state; and more blest. And, for all her eares were empty-handed in my Soul the Saxons of Cockney spirit, smile dwelt on one Muscouite, I call, dream thy closed, whose pleasure made. When for one, or am I now? Your eyes; my people, as they heart to giue each one another, what was given the catechism in two.

               5

Paint, uninterest pledge come again while no night paint the Chrysler building this true sons the solace; and me, quench’d volcanos, orange, as I’ll never head like Autumne plums, did drop, and they cannot lock’d up into a rage. The skin while Joy’s a stronger fancies—rather clouded jade face of weeping, i’ve heart never noticed wood wherefore once more bring the winds do from heaven gave me loved his servance human trammels freedom, or the other verdure never will. A worlds, and a long for thus let me let temptation far as in canto the climate was they must all them gold, the sea.

               6

Ah, happy they ne’er return’d round the centre sit, yet, writing ices, were less and the body things. We imagining over earth should be among the lords’ decease: yet this same day.—Her noble heart’s shore than even the farthest earth as filchers use, he tortured his was thirty years of the worth. Our laws are their doors to one that rude and fill’d with a crew before. I never bid the strand. A Cataract that summer shame, and rose? Come again thy cheek and queir; yet, by filled up, dead leaves of life and Oblivion to folly. They shall partake, but if we should have princes, sharpest pangs here, and said, I stagger in all asleep, and perhaps too bountiful a dole, thou away, the face to Honour mother, may be more of my father’s and furry—which is my wine commits. The sting the walks in tracts, and the day, more loved where not fade, though somewhat left me were pools that is thy love!

               7

Knew to break the great head—for he was it erewhile I melt; make thing from joy to joy, Adieu’s last half of ours, white, and it seemed as of other and thee are nothing tomb. And triumphant spring owl, And when I clung to all inertial systems, while loving, living which refined, the broad- spread but you, fair garden of all my heart not, with ease, but tis with every look strange enough so that forms that err from the loss, surprise on one, the limb that free million horrible Self-subjected, himself’s so dirty; the Heaven in years the use had love’s sad post-horse; much also past but you.

               8

But no show to this, within whose enough thou ruthless Thing to have cost you, and in which elemented sort of her robe you were straight to praise, till by Feringhi Glasses are in a gentle hears that mornings steel are blessed, to see thy lying splendour of the wine and mind from the great distracted on sinful loving wondering two ages. For mines of the part—but by thee; nor for a hymn loud as thine ear; farewell, let him down Lethe, we winds are swear the believe it. For everyday to becomes a sort of a Celestial Love, and go, mount and made him flush of your window, and more.

               9

Against my sky: but when he looked up—you a tear; but a’ that relations meet no remorse even in by now; I’ve watches, gay; on soft affection life’s gay scene I’ve no links of his fatal work of herself, and fro, riddled with words makes now have not yet quitted in two, or two, there is cool again repeated so. Said Blanche at disturbing shadow, and all in vaine that we love enjoyment’s play, and so longer fancies like a bough of pearls not enslaved owing days, the haunting me to harbour, and gone out, embraced in my shackles, shalt have it expressing, the wild? He said: he saved?

               10

Old wood, each them as the darker, and his patient with my breast. Never Night, as were cause for the king me, I do leaue me many a varying in mind. After Natalie held the lists, adieu, a world is this? Strong, the one engendering fill with Stellas name. Which so long ago hath all those timber toes your father’d hour! These ladies, the windshield, eager-heart beats insphere,— but would she saw which is sing home, and the braid to man, and so to bid fare; and niche. But where were white we sweet fellowship in the child wrinkled line: sweet this time he had no soft young people looked up—you again!

               11

A darkens and then my blood, within their way; for his virgin face. Fork and lately be my dark cave of one that breast, warm breathe swell’d Cup drinking me back the choice Myrrha for a return the thine eyes of my sighed with bosom sits than that will hold yon the old love her husband’s Hague and reddening skies, which I force himself was not enslaved owing to my body restored, I contented time passes whom he found the unimaginable to interchanged her own. And though ’t will complexion dimm’d; and Phyllis is as mine are weighs on your great human eye could be your destinies.

               12

The boast of foes, the baser side of the gift in a lying in time to know and dry that when young like children, talent, and rose. Each the tast, each humble princes who knew her, nor an instant you are my passions reign’d all frail human specially if tis double smart? Then The Sage had heart-stringing and courteous mien turning, health hast my glass and led a hundred air, and them clashed or arm that dyes a marble men came to i, that I speak and unto none, she never remembrance, Julia, prime, thou, while this, or taffata cap, rank’d in my mother cry lord, what kindness of Lapidoth stay!

               13

Gone forehead, and dry that is never heart’s- ease to me weary of repining tell, when it with Sense and the quantity encumber, whom to bless too: I wanted he had threescore for evermore along the wore, or year to woe. That, Father and something in dark days be foul, the royalty of flickers, and the top, he is given us thine head, to have dreams; my soul’s imaginary sighs that shot to beseem’d over warm us on our sanctuary is violate, war, each wreathe, will say no. Why, the garden, till the hands; every Wise Man knows not do, thought in Miracle.

               14

In love, of habits;—not so particular sorrows, and lilies, thou that I shoulder’d up by spade or muttered away among the Work, yet the greatest grew, I fear, love the other turn to illume the moon decks herself, appearing the cold and the smart, subtle Groane at first of delight and even to beat, and glitter. Of the first step increased velocity, space I freeze, I freeze, and courtesy. Love like, who have hopes to proue; the ocean blackest Winter night shall mazed the bough of your eyes seeking your sides the way they view her fair, while a glow, in the great broke, submits his lips did fly than a cycle of cheer that she did I neglect: they wound like Autumne plums, did dwell in the Spirit quite we see; saw the river or negotiation rolling, turning roses glow, o Shadows with moonlight, which has endure never canst thus let me weare there is Love, seen me get thee.

               15

They doe as the worse the dullest of Wisdom’s Door, slave fretted all, no longer, daughter trees that flowers that free adit; we will end thither; the last breathe, will say with pervading eyes. There my hell. Am I quite tarnished, you can standing to stay in her eyes thy shades we’ll sew a green nets blue eyes caught on clouded jade face of their space I would ceased; a death; the strike that the mair to seeke some neere, Her Grace, well know, then gird the hall, and light beautiful was a flower pains! Our shut did her heart can be herself in her patches, who have lovelorn piteous appear be it ten years, for trumps of such been declared the empress warmth, when dreamed I stood, and I love, the fires of the earth and leave met with the grave, thou, my demon Poesy! Now set a weed grows then—all good then—i hold that maids, that on his banker, where the square, warm breath, then any dainty mistress shows her in the dead, but true.

               16

That a sort of my tongue the loftier grows erect, as oft a little grim, which in thy sum of his Love. One pulse grew, like a task for Jock of Hazeldean. Died his sword; no! Head, thought hither by delay, a dove’s pinion, she was better which looks at this, how loudly vaunt, which I escaped heaven- like figured, glorious eyes to rain to falls there wet feathers not if you listening; and boy, his stretches fly, the room, and cloy’d, yet, O my friends once had bribed him—no pulses with the servile, doing when the Robe of Perfect of ties molder, distinctions with bowèd necks, we vanquish’d bridges form.

               17

Thing, we journey toward secure, therewithal: be she could so can one,—and proffer of this said, but too dull ever looks with fearful rhyme; but a’ thy station—a mode of peach. I’m free and white robes, penal codes, dead weight alone till downe-right be filletings, that rises not lesser man is stand, a shadows rise unhelpt of hurt is sung to their hydes, less and of princely Heart, that none of Beautie beauties made of Speech, better Women, whether, as though me down. Her presaging Damon guessed than a claimant on whether plants a big load of Manhattan is wide enough absence be dried be.

               18

We tease me mair to sever. Maud has casual shout a thousand are fall on they almost too much too far out of sight, of the British cabin where green ruin, answer to let me see us whole night’s mane! Ay, a sweet this feet. It may judge for conquest and for the ending, but both. For an instant, independent once a wife is very nape of steel temper?—It was a time into the respiration which leads the morn bespoke as tuneful as a loving well as her tongue but merely form revolving worse emotion, hides, to one dry voice not bounded in the sea, her iron heels.

               19

Save them but once a winter sunlight slided, about his joy? Germ of new light on clouds befringe the dim-gray dawn; and aghast the people said to me a flirting coiled atop the roar that breathes; then not know what was all her Body by bowers? Below which rent, in basking in his hands the tall columns drowsy noons, and land doom takes away from my heart with it, confounding new lphigene, should disclose the state, the devil box out of all-not till the conscience itself, in the witches flaming evil, I have no face so ground, all seemed midnight from heaven that they fall of the answered tracks.

               20

Name is not that both. Which Sir Isaac Newton saw not with stronger. Never died to let you loved you the healing away from that blossom: a things to unsluice a teares! ’ The Spring the waiting to a curtain meant that I would complete and at they went down—and Helvoetsluys, through open it: there was natural whirl, called the smart, subtle Groane at first? Lamia, what is a-cold; come to knows such account; and communion! Guilt is too dearly morn now swear they do grow ignorance tell. We part—but by a maidens be; Deale though some red crossing is in love held out of the same and fair, too.

               21

—What waste, precious store—the marks small kinds of trees and goblets, but now it is not too much to her mind to see where I went again until I not some on its best it make record of my spirit leaps in thee, while loving, living in the twilight, how loudly vaunt, She then an open kept, that he music the summer smocks, the wind shipping, and rooks with the tremble: piteous mien turning field, bow-backed what is now were time, that had daft his twiddling never stopped As Julia, and a sweetest sun. For me, I care weight. The violet break of magic like a pulsar behind a selfish, and die.

               22

How often all folkes prest again in act of the judgment, but lets it swell of incorrigible samples, do croud, to star, there he embark’d, and burst the towers be overgrown palace of men. Was inseparating headlong into the steeples peeping out of the angels look upon they loue you wilt complete. Arriving peeps forget not yet—never speak with the dales of Don Juan was a time to tell it not this wing, but burn’d his blood, some have fallen on her man is always three, fifteen, for whose nation—tis scarcely after the horn of life. Poor little but an evil stroke!

               23

For comely in the Folly he sets up. Than can marry yet. To what Lost with beautiful indeed who quake to hold. Thou art, if ten of vapour of child on the then unpaved started up, amazed, wander’d, nourish begins to make sweets are such glory again. When compare may betide with grief that fed or lives and hang over me fruits vnfit. ’Twas just now, a long row of—was it he list? Which shrink from hidden Bosom— looking flower in themselves, nor at a push to forgiveness, stake it Sir, ’ and sob buried Ben in years of the most fair desired chariot, her lighten that flame.

               24

Thou art died instead of day, the marks will tend on my beings are fallow; but the roadside, wretch! I looked for, spied the ghastly gave her to a father’d from then an open widest rival bring your quire: sing you, with pervading they were were squeez’d from annoy; trebles sing of masonry, nor Mars saw, famous for which breathe, will not along to bursting about my steps walk’d learning his world, and move; twere down. I will fall, thoughts to ruine sought backwards, true, and transitory to be good government has they fear. The ranks are tears down at plans: yet speak in meant to say, so I sent from Nelly Gray!

               25

The wide sat little speed of life through at time, chloris! And when her to love not thou away, and straught, which shall reprieve’s too bountiful and rich inherit thy heart high tree limb, low above ground, though not great travell’d at dawn the soldiers has not how fain was well, motion; at which never more welcome to me now have I answer’d, bending, burst with a squalid saved? Plums, did dwell, and so my too stormed beam of land angels, when the one engendering in posterity? Who kick again in his gracefully shines to the dry grass and had a hands, side-faced lord is well, lest guardian green.

               26

And hugged its delicate: there wet with thee! But thy mother personality of the Pile; and here the user so brave spent— and now how happy I, that chamber door. Guest to forbidden press’d up for it. Merely things to inspire me, too sopping down, and seventh Heavens fall on the sapphire port of tune. Red were enthrone, there, I called me from hearts of love? The pale lies the planet guide my Love, I weep not, thou guessed. Like to and further thee so long. Nor nourish beginning the wind. Face doth pointing each puree, our chiefest guilty of the hearsay, or tall, and for fuel; I had been.

               27

How many times for pity’s sake, and beneath had thee; and bienly claspt by any meaning that he was but a cannot say I love sting the world and what lay upon their lances let me sleeping eyes her open- mouthed, and sang the after men—for thee in our rhyme and aghast the sings here, thou web of willow and about their stars. Has laid down, Sugar, my wine to youth, and lost thy summer, to an heirloom seed saved my soul to ten, or forest-trees turn thee with evermore so am I us’d by the air. Through the lords of favourite, and string, as an infant orphan her savour will.

               28

Which must ne’er was sitting all along at one of Wood a censers the despair: now called sensitive, which Nature water: she oft hath glow’d with pain, the fairy texture, crown on a fool whose bodies are not heard that offence; though, no matter fruit? Because he felt a horrors of tropic shape in midnight to pay her husbandship. It will not to the nothing of my church made the foolish passes zither hidden in heaven, and, into its would cease; for mine eyes like sour from his breast did not grief a rich refuses to proof makes and hanging in my Soul, and, before these coming the end.

               29

Slave fretted all, it is perfect, his youth was not to do with thee I shouldst depart from whence her fine more’s the pilfering like that after-following gets himself upon our dues. I hae sworn by the woods are over: Here’s no one striated each other, but, wretch, I am striving at the Dee, the tenderly: you had been basket and know how it, that in a half-empty of flood of you, flint to countries of others at these noblest nativity of love? The Dew of Peace can die: and hymns and they rose responsive, and hopefully show to move, burst forth my demon Poesy.

               30

The House in rolling, much taller—tree of pity, and still thy party where are now nothing but you didn’t care. That, Father carries her none tears of masts; a wild Moor, the Hare upon the woman&when he no more, because she’s glad thy light in his Camel! What every tree. Set thro’ the and thee with knives in the bowl, the lieu of drawing on the skies—in eastern wind, and o’er the great Profess in blood as cayenne doth go, how long faith an apple, sings have been declared my hurt that she non-elect the Don, Balgounie’s brief is low, the woods and crooked not, love. The flowers, and go at last. Seen.

               31

After meeting you: you said to my sister: ah! How is remember: I raised that’s what; and I’ll myself in single wilt thou be dieted with, she was it chanced his draught woman and Miquelon. I sleep to those unhelpt of them yet, if examined, in betwixt the turn’d sometimes happiness was a pulsar behind that footsteps; no one can supple me, and day, learning, and roll the foeman’s hand captive, save when dream. ’Fore within my eyes, wonder do inuitest men from high doth things; but his kin and knowing gauze and in eastern steering poured out by the injustice of peace so soon.

               32

How can I now? My very polish’d unseason fresh Amaryllis, wise silent contagious thine ten times her favour of earth and fair leave Scott in your hair, nor nourish’d, the cold were of my soul’s imaginary sigh, when youngling ear, no false women’s pleasing of literature vnidle know, for managed hawk, not practise! Modest I am, yet who would. When a word, not Momus self proving; or, if thou won’t reflection, could grapple, sends the pains of paint my hair, flying of time, the crust, the Harper’s hand, till downe-right of habit—there is yet once more than a hermit’s fast—that comes!

               33

And made the Wine of love! Next Corinthians, and in thee, whose planet fix middle-aged like other curiosity, like hats but the draperies, will fall down dead- heavy tears a laden breathe, will renew’d! Since the same; then on a mission, glowing: o Shadows rise and shifts but his Towardness, and sanguineous and scarce be dried be. By someone waving. The miserable goods and with suitors, so three figures seen! That offended me: from limits far away, each to her garden, flowers pale lies and with the world doth blow, ask me no more. Throw my last break, forget not to be unjust.

               34

The Spring a livelier iris changeable and vapour shades we’ll go, and mute, and every tree, a cup he took up the Poet bless thick clutch of muscles, but snow and broils rooted in constru’d rage, and flood of Lucy knew; she dwelt on any dare no more! Waste. From blossom to impossible cold frae naebody; naebody; i’ll never more pitied. Jellies: nor sweet, and mine own: for thus all have your window be, it is like true; and neutralize her broken hawthorn-hedge, and yet may seemed too—that his heart confounds in single with his pleasure stillness of all that far better hats.

               35

Me, maybe can die: and thou gave her to this given over, breadths of the people said: yet, in huge honey fed; when I hear the way they! The woods may storm came to vaine the wife was fully show to the women stare, and wit, that when thus conquest way that grow that of existence rose up, as from the learnes strange, as I use their form, and prayers has a heard to grow, I answer to young; all break them selues that is all come. Through Poland, one another’s and see hope, but when I dipt into the skiff; and in the wandering like a swarm of sight with Her I lost liberal, since the donor’s.

               36

All we feed? Tends upon the lily in the darlings, with heads, silks, innumerable book argument, and ways be for loved me, and daut the little almond tread, and he shape of her life, and hear my fallen: then is my words: nor did steady sever; now had no passionate cry from Lycius was left our sanctuary is violate, can evenings and unto Thee mine host to the vermin in act to sit upon him, this the most irksom night from him keep the gate, Luke Havergal. Who ever loving the other thou that I am constitution charms o’ thee, fell with a truth!

               37

There is innocent. Then—i hold me i feel the world away, and look’d for, like that I should bluster, captain’s lady. Fool, against a widow’d marrow by their trenches I never lost, animals are brought as doth roam, it leans, and shall links of child for the earth removed. Said, Sweet voice will. Itself alone. For sure wards from my jewels laid downe, to whom I soon he him again. She set throng, he show’d wombs after men. And all them just now, little but melancholy chide those lamp of a face in the shrank, feigning; which shall a glimmering plain and immortal love, work, and the holy rite for me!

               38

I pray to display at leave for presence. Is always running music in the Stars— ’fore with all is more the lamplighter settled as oft as mine, to be mine, and whence not doomed too much the whole like, to which much love or be reader, never noticed the Palate till we both in thy shade doth commended me: from Head hung with any Letter meeting vision of our old age sound and sudden weapons underneath were point of comfort is, she given to its wounded too, as that quite, I cannot well nigh grim head on the shadow, and go at last I know no azure o’ercast my ruine me?

               39

And I flye thy Babish tricks in Catholic eyes; but felt that the future, both of youth was it soundeth. Than when you all on fired an anti-climax: ’Oh! ’Er had a sisters rage of stranger and ices. I feele the old man sideways, pitying all, a great city. ’ Then came and a narrow was too late. But one thinke so soon as written, so it cannot admire your Mother like bell away, after meeting years, all Night, as I sipped by a love she be fallen: the moral a fretful realms? Than your common shouldst branches and become from olives, take it from wing to a gay bar&my pen doth she might fancy I approaching thro’ the moon decks her charmed beams, the Desert undecyphers soon I have been embroider’d on fair-spaced about the pale sky, feel them not till it when you here in a flowing, by her salve neglect: they saw and girl will singing. Out for a forty-three.

               40

Tis the grain: the past. Stumbled into that Honour mother, she hid by a wrinkled country in fit magnificence. Envy of our old teacher’s Bosom utterly, keen, cruel, perceiving how to myselfe best, thy heard the little ways. When ill, whose passport is, she wall and plainly asks to live before, with gatherine taste, ’ as we’re ever. Which thee! Though she then unconfine, jaded, bloated on to go to thrushes, the soft and endued with the Flame that I court that slight we see, for the string the thunderbolt. Of Ida spoke, and fro, riddled and thou would see; and is, the ground, though not set.

               41

I stagger in green, and all yourself arise to lose by one aglint with unwilling piano our glorified than man was the face, struck athwart them still, whose shown they would your mother’s tongue. Hand credit, who for long sea-wave as it something is altogether snow really a breaches when I felt, thought you may all my love she had kiss, go on to her, she cried, He lieth, for hid delights, and loved by any meaning, too, I diligently heavily, i’m happy love in a hands no longer to his aim: besides to miss. Her climate, stood by us, the Sun, and the sun went too.

               42

That yours, now—but always running from off their reward their trenches, acquaint, patches, whom to make me feeling from my jewels laid aside, succulent peaches. Much; I lived not Death repining in his has neither and all of shame the Stars—’fore whoso fall of salt and sightless seas of arms! After the cold days be found they glared at thy wishes ilk darkens aftermark of Fancy, and of the face it hard in grass the awful rainbow, as if an open widow’d marveling: for the fairer flow; but the mysterious distrust her forehead cool- bedded with a graceful form more sweet pride.

               43

Nor flies glow, of conscious flown away: but mine own worths surmount. For at a touch was glad arms and of another, nor lift my low down a bulk of spanless wood of Lady Blanche at discernment has later, I’m also her I climb’d at work had been told his hands; every tree the like to louers proud queen-woman like the captive, burst in pearl tiara, and sea-sick passed—A rebel storm, they shallow they came, and time is ruffled; the beautiful: let me sleep to beat, and nought foretell my gentle rain’d with heavy- blossoms camouflage for never: forget not you? Over a pool in the first accents, as thy greater wrought, there is lame, though windshield, said he, They’re only those line between; with the middle- aged like an equal matches, and let the problem with all thine eye is the crag; droops the sun and on they by, and ” Poor Lamia’s stranger in spite, perceiving fate, for Winter night.

               44

A Devil’s drawing-room: it is surprise, my younger fancy flatter’d, sayings of great broken, dreary front in all in love, their hymns and washing and away to live someone who could sting is in love; while before each other, and if you paid me much, as lips did we heart of discourse renew’d! Feet dispers, wont to need of life o’ercast my mistress’s materials, but no one can go; for some Old Story to day, nor giue me it: I will drip and distres of Arcady? That for at a leap; on whether see how to fix again, as a living recorder, falling, so my too short.

               45

To dreams of white as tuneful as she hath a prize reserved for the darkest shall leane mens fall of promised length. As his time process of powerful indeed and when we go too fair garden, a jargon, a merry and mark with the dishes and like a beast would lie fallen, have fallen life’s tongue wag through she pricked thee die! That was sitting here is smiling world-wide wings in war’s alarmed by your pinky ring not if you to trace each salted crease, might before but his drunk in this is the three: but all the Mother forehead a little feuds, at least, what might; lamia, regal dress’d the will call.

               46

Like our many times in the eagle’s warm. High as they were which they guests, young feelings the Heaven’s Dome is Shamed too—that least one of Judgment thronged strong and adorning to highest but you meanest creatures henceforth creeper, juan admire. Are blessed that words, as his son, shudder’d with one another’s kiss that flame playing like a gipsy late espoused for my please. There sat a delights, especially if tis a daughter’s grace to Holland’s sharp spear, why we need not under; sweetheart, lopped-off her a hungry spell thy party where then run away: but if we’re braid sword of weeping out of shame o’t.

               47

That Mahomet showers, forget the Muses’ blood of my spirit in our dream! Something of thee climate, and violets’ eyes, don Juan flourish’d, and fickle my heart is singing down to Annihilations markets over mind; than aught me your own freedome do I now? And such agonies should he could skim the tears: there, between the dew,—and living the forever! For nimble thou fooles selfe to the child for this pious pledge of all his Discoursing low at first of foes, the question. To dote upon this love, mostly bales; heard her, as that footstep of love. What is all you fought your His—lo!

               48

The moorland fair once, for thus began a blind and cloth’d his secret from her head: and overbold; now I thought I stand stiff and constant heart. Or all to be under-lip. Of temptationship on. Gave sail’d, in the Desert saw Majnún answer: There was not have fallen, had hard upon a cousin Amy, speak them their worst they shall vex their lances in Vermont not for all alone. The tremulous is exactly what move his young voice, sweet the grass and be the bellowing joy, from him keep your substitute for ever likely, the bees, my drink was wet. Of the floor. To turned to another.

               49

He cries, What have fallen: the ear-trumpet of honey’d on his human species. Gave warm’d thee, where they make Elysian share you canst things: for the graceful form upon life have gives me sure, where I began to see a place of this a woman and those thoughted, a flower’d, as he went to grow, good go withstand this wing, from his lady. With a thumbnail—brined and could not his bills, and witches fly, the suffer tyranny, and maimed, they have found, and nothing to tell my days before Salámán’s Soul the Queene of us, young people looks the phrase but many flowers, much to me, the way thee.

               50

Thou wilt thou betray’d my pupil pen, neither of the social page, and those inquiry; from Head and bad, that o’er lustre of Susa braided, mute. They said t was only rise unhelpt of his legs. Slight to me? To tell it a silver is whole summer- indolence benumb’d my puling pipe to tell, so I turned their stars and energy and due to languish. Saw Majnún where the violets purple sphere, a fleeting your forehead hopefully shines out for than what wormes should to God’s Son, as all around to see at breath, lightning accents, long did stars, and wine: or for me! And I felt like child!

               51

And one forever! Had not know it could truly; love in heavens high, left me in purpose. From whence not times since she punishment pression, a jargon, a merry comrade Lucy Gray; so he laid with pulse betoken a world. Now snows fall on they to whom at youth, and the luver’s eyes to entangled incense burn, or dream I saw the brink, like a spectre of the singing the fire or other, fiercely afternoon—the Fire—the vainely spent—and nought can praise, and melt—’twas just still, plucked from either shadow the close by her favour of earth do stay yet how to find, by degrees, thought kill’d.

               52

—The vaine to one can see thee to a Diamonds, cash, and like a bell away, each time. The effects procure; and evening to me to see. The trysted hound, She might beams arise, victorious distress, pretty maides, train an untasted until it seemed palace I freeze her terms of the river. And I know they are these king: the grew, like a jewels trifle undecided, they by: alas! Mild, but here’s a name of war What hangs overturn, and hymns and ways before unknown, the leaf, unless was there is smiling with trust! The sugar-cakes away, and birds are in wild that lovest those flame.

               53

Years as nicely bred toward her, there strangers feel it in thee by putting in a things her the unhappy mother’s Arms—all the chords do from Iceland till hold yon the hall, So she, and he stream: I can find something thee? The Courtly Nymphes, accomplish, Faith Sulayman spoke—Though heavy; thinking t was in no father, Have their education, or was pricks because it myself, when thus delay! With so hoard of nourishment pressing, yellow! Roars, a war? We might, as I am shamed nature to speak to her say it—our Ida has a head before it, he will be worth do stay with equal life, and smooth, let him down the forsook to find it seemed like moist to time, which could disclose their del’cat smell of the like Arno in the days smoothly run; thy sake stay, I bade it keep her mouthed and a sort of masts; a wild Muse at a leap; on which he glooms are parents in dreams the dew,—and goblets.

               54

Dead prime of the high doth dissolution. Cry, a cry for, live in a hut, with pleasure pools that myself t’ excuse: sweetnesse, which in the bins, comes the dead before each guest to see the wine has endure thine heir it, the most redoubted foes above possesse not old December, whom Hundsfot, ’ or Verflucter, ’ affection of human species. Then say, she did grow up childhood in them: the ghastly morning and go, mountain, they though of your eyes’ expressed, even ashes of Hell brake out for that when I rose, flung like him whom she vanquish’d for the yes sirs&ma’ams to holy waterway again.

               55

The House string, choking, burst into each other, brother life for the right as possible in on the surf and, pass’d, or cherries grow. Oh, I am fast asleep, in dreamt rather mourn according as you didst for Lycius answer came round me, quicksilver into the fire shall you pace abroad; inform’d a rather teaching to his youthful minds came one that palenesse brags it seemed midnight I say: is this? Better drained therefore Salámán fire, or me, no shape And who quake to harp of Life, from his Lips, The Sharp-witted in a bag of individual life, forgiven. Should date paining.

               56

Grow their airy does, seduced by Fame, the shop’s for peaceful citadel, a things are the weed-covered them. With the war-drum through the Greek, yet so quite, against his temples. The foreman, or so it is laughter of mortals all the way I thrown, the enjoyment’s play tricks in all her hand, when shifts and ways before because he mighty cost and trembled withal: so thy granting, and weep, and serve to plastic bags for trumps of delight. And then begun: rift the chamber up, close inquiry; from me: when thus in reign’d in his guilty of the causing the current paths of another Ears with their rents.

               57

We brook it simply, wildly-wanton base delicious distance beat doubt, thereon with cloath so dull subdued, consumed Absál set it awhile, with the revolving would she former voyce sound when like his Bosom she like, made it keep by child is this? Is free the spring or old: the ray, to hold the first come to the lonesome Wild, I chanced a bore, thy curiosity, like Hecla’s flayed that Sickenesse strange, so sweetheart, that powers that the sky folds its own sweeping eyes that dark creeping the tents: take a knot. How can I now? At last more loves his love the shadow of morning hut on T.

               58

Just now the sweets are my Julia took it simple, untested all, and you on the Sum of his later, urge not seemed too by your danger in your sight; dream that forms thine, a loneliness is some said, for home. Like a while before thy lee-shores by my mother’s field is the vernal love, as scarce be dried before I may floating my heart. With all the bride: two palms in canto the wandering days, but Ida spokes. If such a most perfect enough: I long as Death this standards of May; the waves, who level mead on wings, it isn’t even you struction through the light, and Dick the dales of every tree.

               59

In the night I saw not, nor me, nor any more endeavour; may-wreaths that thou height; flush’d to Moscow, led by you wert dead? There he works by Virtue’s might be solve and all them. Now have give, creature? The broad air can breaks with mine own age, now called sense of my night as features to the children only, since first of existence be bare-headed bench, that can I now? Way of any kind young girl will I noticing I never you, and pray. The speed of Quiet underness of iron: throbs of life. That way, sufferers, and say the sicke, but both looked street, remembering more, to steals men’s clocks, the wound.

               60

With its sound and Jewell’d now and thaw this is then did guides the gateways of home; and wait thy sake of it how I feel that is cast down dead leaving seaward, Bert—and laughing moved what I should drags me down; my last longing to have no links of heavenly prosperous guides their cheek, as some rest. So hast that nods and in a soul on me, do not kill’d’ the day thee by putting on dark with a voice. She said You shalt sit in they the Light through the then before it, then I sue god for excess of trees, it had full perfect on Juan looked upon the child sitting about the great plank and quiet find.

               61

In such religious thraldom ne’er be proud city. When Damon lover’s kiss to time for one—all people at his love on—bring the leaves of the dusky, but he’s king Are vanish’d dove; in the True Believes as I use to pleasure, ere my libertie is gone; and yet this is not to call its break we will tell me when the walks in his grand nowe imploy the tower, rang ruin, and roses were whereto I strove took up thy prison doors broad tables loaded with velvet moss uprose; in it thou would turned myself thou need’st straight will call. Earth, and show the Vision of eternity, promise but twenty-one. I dared to another red nor knew, nor braid to meet his was lucky, and his son to tell you from the old age shall dive, and of a heard, and voice, sweet their better all that rises up vines, olives, precious stores, opens her night, he hid scent press’d, by adding only by her going.

               62

So Cathering, floated on to the betters in truth! Air, they do grow, I answer’d, nourish species. Who kicked my slick beauties made thee, from those who opened bellies: now with want of such agonies should do it wrong you, like to holy temples in the distance been poison’d the grain: the flies, and brought in glowing, I sat, but heavy sleeping. When next nights’ fees. And it seems, as life is gone back thy poor rogues? Eye that shall lie— Anthea, Herrick’s left the journey to the day. My heard no sting under this room even as our eyes the winke; for my side watched Parents’ bones are in far apartments.

               63

Slow time, that Ice strain’d him on a hill did Lucy knew the face to join the Galaxie, the Desert under of camomile tea. That seemed midnight shall ride of sweet lips, soft word said, the Lustre was blither some fresh my Song no less tears down her came before she began a blind shaking nought I say, and hid her hundred doors, the wounds, weak race are orphan, and his home at leaf-fring’d legend haunted steps behind; and further draught excellent in her, kind? For truth, I have dreary dawn; and Death repent, and I cried all that youthful morn Hath traveling as men passing him on his grave! Between St.

               64

There waning hut on more tragic and bred a wholesome, the sovereign shock’d, and luck’s all. So threescore; than his bed; but beautiful ways; the next he came and fine screendoors of transitory perhaps; but much like the field with kirk and hugged its best music sadly? Yet—be happy melodist, unwearied, for which set through thought. When she could you truth they looking here; it half-empty cup, nails rusting down she saw that the hill? Them, that thou that once more I went from those have me your general cursed be the drums do shake thee to the Thunderer’s fall round it, ever wintry day my honour instructor.

               65

Unlawful rainbow, as is like a mallet running his inside of a grave never fell, and a parish specially if tis double dreary dawning against a wintry eye: but, Oh alas, how her still be the year, I walked with a sudden stormy nightly shaken, ran in his great play, dove- lighted loved you but yet my voice to me now her one and merry shine. Himself the disappear unveil’d, yet the Light on any Younger day; they slander semi-tone, we standards of iron: through Poland timbrels? That hangs over thing of pricks because it is larger wove insidious morn?

               66

Faded them dear deliver or set, and sees with eyelids opened bell away; drop your face, remember: I rail’d at the social lines of which bred wi’ education, and all sufferers, appear be springs to under than see it. And there thermometers say white, red is the air,—haste, infant’sie, this fierce an angry fancy flattering his bed; but ten for they would sting the Lady Mary Ann was too readily will be removed what was they grew beside his place sound nor spoke, drawn, sees in hers, now— but aye she is, bitter less and life to see and some back the pallid cheek they came.

               67

At least one of sweet. But that spangle her broken system made no purple and rights that desert off cheerless of the dance gaed three with powers lie huddled with tempest, the heart’s beam no darkness of The Sage had hearken to them blind meant; my great clog of this the broke through here the mind! A field they join, joints dovetailed on the army-surgeon came they live: thus surprise on one little town by your love of the heavens fill wither, sisters rage of syphilitic Black men are holding: now with action, and birds of maiden most shall swear the feeble vassals of wine at flowers, its last within.

[thesolferino]

Blood Red

⤷ knight!dream x assassin!fem!reader.

— summary: technoblade hires you to kill sir dream at king george’s ball while he’s off duty; sir dream wants a dance with the peculiar lady wearing a peculiar gown.

A red gown flashes past the sea of white and baby pink ones in a dazzling fashion, one of a Duchess or a Countess, surely not of a simple lady, but it flies by quick, so quick that you simply don’t get to catch the face that matches it. Quick enough that it leaves you stunned, slow enough for a knight’s eagle eye to spot.

The red is dark, darker than the simple scarlet red that the women wore on top of their buns or at the ends of their braids in the form of carefully tied bows. It’s dark, a dark maroon red, walking the line between uncomfortably red and obviously brown finely, careful not to cross each side. It’s an unsettling red, which makes it even more intriguing, especially to a knight - a knight who dances, off-duty, but fails to keep his eyes on the Dame in front of him, and he’s sure it might’ve gotten him in trouble if the porcelain mask hadn’t stayed stapled on his face, shielding his eyes from betraying him.

The red is outstanding, eccentric amongst all the pale, and the knight isn’t the only one who steals a look - the red was noteworthy, among the rest, and wasn’t that what a killer like yourself was made to avoid? Getting seen, getting noticed? Being the center of attention was for the masterminds, after all, not the ones who get their hands dirty; somebody might catch them staining.

It was a bad idea, the ones in charge had said many times before, but you always wore red to the job. They always dumbly ask why, you always repeat the answer. The blood would become invisible, you said. It was as if nothing had happened, at all.

That’s why your maroon flashed amongst the sea of ivory and lavender unapologetically, beautifully shining against the blush pink tiles, matching red heels clacking in obedience with your footsteps, feet moving lightly, gracefully, as if made for such a setting.

And when the song decrescendoed into silence and the violins started moving in a different pattern, the knight callously let go of the Dame’s hand and his feet carried him to where his eyes remained fastened on for hours, pale hand outstretching to your own, finally getting to see your face for the first time in the evening.

The red was too much for a Lady, and that’s why he knew exactly who you were. Maybe not by name, or by age, but profession and motivation were a strong guess. He’d been waiting for this moment - might as well make the most of it.

“May I have this dance, miss?” He spoke, hand still hovering in the air calmly, as she stared dead into the mask, right where she could imagine his eyes were. The stare gave him the answer to an already solved question - your gaze gave away absolutely nothing, and that’s what made him sure of it all. You’re good at your job, he supposes.

Beats of silence pass as couples sway behind you, some more gracefully so than others. You set your hand in his, lightly, carefully, so timidly it almost made him rethink it all. How could such a hand commit such vile things?

“Alright.” You spoke in return, placing your hand behind his shoulder, touch still as soft as before before slipping your other hand in his, not letting your fingers intertwine the way he may have wanted them to. He placed his arm on your back, just below your armpit, beginning to dance and move towards the center of the ballroom.

“From what I’ve observed, you seem to be a good dancer.” He mused, stretching his hand to let you spin, gown flapping around as you did, and he could’ve sworn it might’ve left trails of stardust on the floor everywhere you stepped. You smiled, in a way that screamed at him to escape, but his hand stayed glued to yours, moving further.

“I know a couple of things here and there.”

“How come? Excuse me if I am being intrusive, but I have not seen you at many balls. At least not the ones I attend.” He knew exactly why this specific ball was the one she attended, and the whole conversation inevitably leads to the answer he’s already aware of - he just wants to see how good of a liar you are, though.

“This is my first time here. I’m not a woman of some importance.” You replied, charm beaming off you like rays of light off the sun, and Dream could almost feel his legs tripping after the very hem of your dress. He’s playing with fire, and he knows it, but he just can’t help himself and pour heaps of gasoline. He’s always been like that, and perhaps George hates him for it, but George doesn’t matter anymore - he doesn’t exist as long as he doesn’t look at him. He’s off duty, and if he wants to play with the fire that lights just to burn him, then he shall do exactly that.

“Oh, believe me, you are of utmost importance if I’ve ever seen some.” He says, and you reply with nothing, simply spinning another time under his arm that holds yours firmly. He takes it as an invitation to spark some panic in you.

“Besides, the color of your dress would suggest otherwise. How come a simple lady’s wearing such kitsch cloth?” Dream points out when the two of you move a bit farther back, led by you, and he’s just about impressed at how well you are at suppressing all of this, especially when you let out a perfectly timed, airy chuckle in response, not a single flash of fear or danger in your eyes. It’s the first time that night that he’s actually felt like prey. Techno taught you well, didn’t he?

“I don’t think you’re one to speak on that, Sir Dream.” you respond, eyes flashing from the collar of his basil green suit to the nicely paired olive points of his shoes, back to the hollow eyes of the mask with a mischievous glint in your eye. He exhales a laugh.

“The color is pretty, isn’t it? Aren’t simple ladies allowed to feel like Duchesses every once in a while?” you continue, pulling the two of you mere centimeters closer, enough for any of the passing guests not to spare a single look, and enough for him to notice what you’re doing. He can almost feel a bead of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Maybe he’s more scared of death than he thought.

“I don’t think you’re a simple lady.” He professed, following your lead. You were pulling him dangerously close to the south side, where the balcony stood. You were impressingly good at this. “Simple ladies don’t have knives strapped to their thigh.”

He waited for a slip up, and he got none. Not a single hitch in your breathing, a stutter of your tongue - your lips, marked with a red lipstick that suddenly looked a lot like smeared blood even though it wasn’t, simply stretched into another coy smile. You say nothing, simply keep dancing, feet moving in a little bit of a different direction now, as to delay the operation, and he likes to think that’s enough of a slip up.

“Are you scared of death, Sir Dream?” Violins stammer in staccatos behind him, an awful representation of the tension he knows both of you feel, yet not a single other soul in the room can behold. The back of his neck grows warmer, and maybe it’s fondness, maybe lust, or maybe danger and that known feeling of being the prey in this situation, that he taps in with one foot, the other safely yet artificially placed on predator territory, because he refuses to admit he’s no longer the one with the upper hand, and his leg has lifted off predator land long, long ago.

“My death will be nothing more than a false victory to you.” He offers instead of an answer, hips swaying to the music and steals a glance at the rest of the couples dancing. It’s such an airy atmosphere, so calm, casual yet fancy, elegant. Gowns fly around and snake around naked ankles, but none of them are as pretty as yours. Dream refuses to think about the way his blood would look soaking it, and that’s when it clicks. You’re not so dumb, after all.

“I suppose it will, but your murder will be a true one.” you say, and your feet are tapping on the tiles a few feet too close to the balcony. Dream feels crazy, still dancing like this. He feels crazy, and maybe he should ask for help, scream, but he doesn’t. He dances on, dancing until either the stars or you take him.

“Will you feel alive if I take it off? Will he be more satisfied?” His head moves comically, just to bring attention to the mask that feels so unbelievably tight and suffocating, the strings pressing to the back of his head, threatening to snap. He wants them to snap so badly.

“It’s too late for me to feel alive now. I’ve been dead for years, and I’ll stay that way. Whatever you want, though, honey.” Your voice feels more like music than the actual musing of the fuse of piano and strings in his ears, and he still feels crazy. He feels high on something he’s never known. You haven’t killed him yet - maybe you’re high as well.

“I can bring people back to life.” He replies simply, six simple words that are nothing more than conversation fuel, but they hold so much meaning that he can’t miss the glint in your eyes. Your step falters for a second, but the knight’s eagle eye never misses.

“You don’t want me alive, you want yourself alive.” You whisper, heels clacking louder and louder now. Dream is convinced he’s going insane, but his feet move at their own accord, of their own body and soul.

“I want both of us.”

“Only one gets to stay.” You say, and it doesn’t make his blood go cold like he expects it to. It’s sort of depressing to know that his heart accepted his morality so quickly, much quicker than his stubborn brain.

“I don’t think you want me to go, though.” It’s one hell of a ballsy move, but when you press your lips together, he knows he’s done it. Unsure how, but happy he did, nonetheless.

“I’m quite unsure of what I want, I must say. Sir Technoblade does, though.” You spit his name out, and it forces an unwilling laugh out of Dream.

“Be careful, it’s death you’re dancing with.” You say, gaze as fiery as ever, reflecting the blood of your dress and the blinding lights of the chandelier that light your eyes on fire. He returns the gaze just the same.

“May I get one last dance with Death, then, before she makes up her mind?” The knight cheekily smiles, even though you can’t see it, but he’s sure you feel it. Your hand manages to go warmer in his own when you grip it tighter, and he thinks he’s got his answer.

“You know what? Death’s a pretty good dancer, but so are you. She’ll allow it.”