#and air filters good lord so many air filters

[steampoweredlovemachine]

hello. I'm back. with ideas for a spiderverse character

[parkerslatte]

So Loved

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: allusions to parental abuse

Summary: Y/N wakes up alone in the middle of the night. She finds Eris quietly talking to their son.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The left side of the bed was vacant when Y/N reached across to the usual warmth of her husband. She cracked one eye open. The only light in the bedroom was filtered through the lace curtain. The bed was still warm, meaning Eris hadn’t left long ago. 

Y/N sat up in the bed and stretched her body. There were faint whispers coming from the room right next to theirs. A tired smile stretched across Y/N’s face. She slowly manoeuvred to the side of the bed and slipped her feet into the floor, shivering in the process as the cold air hit her. Her silk nightgown did nothing to shield her from the cold. 

Folding her arms across her chest, Y/N stood up and walked out of their bedroom. The door was always open a crack just in case they heard anything in the night. Nowadays Eris was a light sleeper and with any noise coming from the other room, he was already up and checking that everything was okay. 

The whispers were louder now that Y/N was in the hall. Their house was small and deep in the woods. Despite now being High Lord, Eris preferred to live in a small cottage only surrounded by a few trusted individuals opposed to the Autumn Palace. He preferred the simplicity of it all. 

As Y/N stood in the threshold of the room, she smiled and leaned against the doorway. Eris was sitting in the chair next to their son’s cot, gently cradling him to his chest. 

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you,” Eris whispered. “You are perfect.”

Y/N leaned against the doorway and watched the scene unfold, her heart swelling twice its size. 

“You are going to grow up so loved,” Eris said. “You will have everything I didn’t have growing up. You could tell me that you want the moon on a string and I would give it to you.”

“I don’t need you spoiling our child more than you already have,” Y/N teased, gliding into the room. “He’s not even eight months old yet.”

Eris tilted his head to Y/N and smiled and there was nothing but love in that smile. 

“How long have you been standing there?” Eris asked. 

“Not long,” Y/N replied, draping herself over the back of the chair and wrapping her arms around Eris and their son. “I turned over and realised that you were gone. There was only one place you would be.”

Eris smiled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s cheek then on to his son’s head. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Y/N replied, her fingers reaching out to her son. Even in his sleep, he gripped onto them. 

“How is he so perfect?” Eris whispered. 

“That’s easy,” Y/N replied. “You are his father.”

Eris scoffed quietly. “Have you met his mother?”

Y/N giggled and pressed a kiss to Eris’s cheek before nesting her head into the crook of his neck.

The small family simply enjoyed the small moment of silence. Nothing could harm them and everything was perfect. 

Eris was the first to break it. “I had a nightmare.”

Y/N stiffened. “Oh my love, are you okay?”

Eris smiled at the affection. “I am now.”

“What was it about?”

Eris sighed, hugging his child closer to his chest. “It was about all of us, many years from now. Theon was grown up, he was about ten or so. He looked so much like you.”

Y/N hugged him a little tighter, her lips ghosting his neck. 

“The dream started off good but I soon began to act like my father. I dismissed Theon and was vile toward him,” Eris said, his voice laced in sadness. “I said horrible things and it made me think…what if I do turn out like him? What if I’m simply doomed to repeat my fathers abuse?”

Y/N released Eris and circled around until she was in front of him. She pulled the second chair closer and sat down, her hands reaching out to caress his arm. 

“Eris, listen to me when I say that you are nothing like him. Nothing like him,” Y/N said. “You are the most perfect, loving father in the whole of Prynthian. The amount of love you gave in your heart for your son is astronomical. You are nothing like that bastard that raised you– and you won’t be. You never will be.”

With one hand, Eris laced their fingers together as he looked at Y/N. The emotion on his face was unreadable but Y/N could tell that her words had touched him. 

“Theon is so loved, by you and by me,” Y/N said, lifting Eris’s hand to press a gentle kiss against his knuckles. “You moved us out into the woods just so he doesn’t need to grow up under the influence of the rest of the court. You were the one who said you wanted him to have a normal childhood without the constant training until he reaches maturity. You want him to be a normal kid, a happy kid. You have already given him so much love and care and he is not even a year old. You could never be like your father because you, Eris Vanserra, are a good male.”

Eris’s eyes glistened with tears as he kissed his son on his head, the red locks the same shade as his father. 

“I love you both so much,” Eris whispered. “I never thought I would be granted such a life.”

Y/N stood to her feet and pressed a kiss against her son’s head and then Eris’s cheek. “Well you have, and best believe that you deserve it, Eris.”

Stepping back from the chair Eris was sitting in, Y/N folded her arms across her chest. “I’m going back to bed. You can join me whenever you are ready.”

Once Y/N was standing in the threshold of the doorway, she looked back at her son and Eris and wished she could capture this moment in time. Y/N continued down to her and Eris’s bedroom and entered it, her bed calling to her. As she began to settle down, Eris slipped in and climbed onto the bed. 

“I thought you would have stayed with him longer?” Y/N said, as Eris pulled her back against his chest, intertwining their fingers. Y/N instantly felt warmer. 

“He opened his eyes just after you left and seemed pretty pissed that I disturbed his sleep,” Eris muttered, amusement in his tone. 

“I would be pretty pissed if you disturbed my sleep too,” Y/N jokes, pulling Eris’s arm tighter around her body. 

Eris kissed her head. “I see where he gets it from.”

Y/N smiled and closed her eyes. “I love you, Eris.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Eris replied. “Thank you for giving me the son I never thought I could have.”

Y/N nuzzled further into Eris's warmth. “When he wakes up grouchy tomorrow because you disturbed his sleep, you will wish he was not your son.”

Eris laughed quietly. “Impossible, because the amount of love I have for him is more than I thought I could hold in my heart. Even if he is grouchy in the morning.”

Y/N hummed in amusement. Before she knew it she fell asleep peacefully in Eris’s arms and dreamt about their small, perfect family.

[1800naveen]

Making that post because I don't give a fuck. I don't bother with hiding your user because fuck your privacy.

I checked your profile and you ship Feysand, that tells me everything I need to know about you. Now, let's look at this paragraph again! The whole thing!

"Starting with meeting with the governors of the palaces and getting them to agree never to serve, shelter, or entertain Keir or ANYONE from the court of nightmares." Did you get that? I hope so.

When Rhysand said anyone, he didn't only mean Keir and his soldiers, he meant anyone who was born from Hewn City. Women, men, children. Anyone who hails from Hewn City will not experience the same comfort as the citizens of Velaris.

The inner circle believes that everyone down there is evil and vile but that can't be true, can't it? If someone like Mor came from there and was a dreamer, that means there are more dreamers. There are innocent women and children who suffer in the court of nightmares but Rhysand and his inner circle leaves them to rot. Mor hasn't done anything for the women and she left centuries ago.

You want to know why I said they would like Jim Crow? It's because of shit like that. People were denied shelter, service, entertainment, get opportunities, etc. That's exactly what Rhysand said about anyone from Hewn City coming into Velaris. They had to deal with Rhysand coming down to Hewn City only to torment them so more in their miserable lives. That little stunt Feysand did in ACOMAF was straight up disgusting. Getting freaky in front of your people? Can you imagine the women seeing that? That Rhysand is acting like this with his lady? They also had to watch Rhysand break Keir's arm for calling Feyre a whore which is well deserved but Rhys doing that but not helping the women who had suffered at the hands of men for many years? Some high lord he is. Here's the racism part I was talking about:

"The Illyrians are pieces of shit," he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. Shadows gathered around his wings, trailing off him and onto the thick red rug. "They train and train as warriors, and yet when they don't come home, their families make us into villains for sending them to war?" "Their families have lost something irreplaceable," I said carefully. Azriel waved a scared hand, his cobalt Siphons glinting with the movement as his fingers cut through the air. "They're hypocrites." This is from A court of frost and starlight. Azriel is talking like that about the Illyrians even though HE IS A ILLYRIAN. That is internalized racism in my eyes. Because why would talk about your own people like that?

"Get your facts checked." I got my shit checked, I won't be making posts on this app if I DIDN'T have my facts. I have read the series, I wouldn't make posts like this if I didn't read it. Do yourself a favor and block me.

I hate Rhysand, Feysand (as a ship), the inner circle, and I love to talk shit about them. That shit that Rhysand did to Feyre UTM is one of the reasons I hate that bat bastard. "He had me dance until I was sick, and once I was done retching, told me to begin dancing again." ACOTAR, Chapter 39. He never gave her a true apology for what he did to her and that's fucking horrid. He had no reason to do that. That isn't protection, that's abusing a innocent woman. Don't act like he's a good guy when he did all of this to his "Feyre Darling".

Hating this series is awesome, give it a try. And you didn't reply to my comment, how come? I was hoping we would start a argument. I don't need people like YOU in my damn comments. Please do yourself a favor and block me now, save yourself the pain. Try filtering out the anti Rhysand and anti inner circle tags if you don't want to see shit like that. I saw a little post on your blog about seeing a post from a Rhysand and IC hater. I know it's about me, I be lurking at times.

I do hope you see this and I hope you give me a good ol' block!🙂 Either you block me or I block you. Any comment from a pro Rhysand or pro inner circle, I am not taking it seriously. I don't need bitches like YOU around and I'm sure you don't want a bitch like ME around.

READ THE FUCKING TAGS, YOU FUCKTARD. YOU AIN'T WELCOME HERE. WHY WOULD YOU MAKE YOURSELF SUFFER BY READING FROM ANTI FEYSAND OR ANTI IC PEOPLE? IF YOU'RE A FAN OF EITHER, YOU STAY AWAY FROM IT. I want you to know that I compared Rhysand and Feyre to Donald and Melania Trump, called him and the inner circle fascists, and compared him to Bill Cosby!🥰 Here's one, here's another, and the last one!

🎵Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Rhysand. Then you had to open your mouth with a motherfucking opinion. Well, this is how we gonna do this; Fuck Feysand (Feyre deserves better), fuck Rhysand, fuck the inner circle as a staff, family, and a motherfucking crew! And if you want to be down with this, then fuck you too!🎵

Be sure to read the tags this time, much love and take care! No but seriously, just block me. Make it better for yourself. I say this with genuine.

Made a post, just for you and your dumbass comment.

[ouroboros-hideout]

Night City memories.

@barghestapologist came up with this cool little idea and tagged me for it. Thank you again! Really love it and went around town with my blorbo girl. And decided to write something to every pic in her point of view. Brace yourselves - it's long, like always.

Rules: Snap some shots! Places (or people) near and dear to your ocs across NC! Filters and photo frames are optional ofc, it’s all up to you!

And since it's a tag game I´d like to give other's the opportunity as well who might not have seen it yet, but no pressure as always and everyone can try if they want!

@blackrevell @sofia-in-nc @cybervesna @chevvy-yates @kdval

To get the obvious out of the way: Of course I like the workshop. Kurt has invested a lot of time, money and energy to build a modern workspace with plenty of facilities for decent weapon production. I'd always prefer my own place in Russia, that's not up for debate and if his people think they know more than me and boss me around, I'd be happy to throw a few punches, but on the whole, working here is a chance to get something really big off the ground and I enjoy being a part of it.

When I need some fresh air, as fresh as it can get in Dogtown, I like to spend a few minutes in the stands of the stadium, the less busy part of the black market. My favorite thing is watching Kurt's little tin soldiers trying to salvage anything of value from the aerozep their lord and master has shot out of the sky - he’s just pure chaos.

To put it bluntly: I hate his damn parties. I hate everyone he invites, I hate that he always persuades me to come along. But the first time I saw the “finished” casino I was impressed. It’s his little playground, I don’t judge him for it, if this is his way of conducting business. After all, it seems to work. And of course you have to offer the rich and famous something to attract them to Dogtown in the first place. From that point of view, he's done a good job here. I like to come around if there’s no one else there. I am a sucker for impressive views and I doubt you would get anything better than up here. And the bar is a big bonus.

The small balcony on the left is the best place in my opinion. I've often seen Kurt standing there too, smoking a cigarette and looking down on the city. Even though I know he's actually looking somewhere else. So far, I've always turned round and let him have his moment - I think he really needs that. And maybe some more time before he will open up to me about it.

The wannabe military camp at the entrance to the Sapphire is a good place to familiarise yourself with Kurt's people. Many of them, and this surprised me, actually have brains, and it's nice to chat to them and listen to some of their stories, throw a few punches in the little boxing ring they've set up (or take a few, yes, I have to admit) or finish off the evening with a beer at the dingy little bar. One evening, a newbie came up to me, looked at me with big dreamy eyes and asked me in a trembling voice what it was like to work so closely with THE Kurt Hansen. I really had to pull myself together not to lose my composure. His name was Pablo or something like that, I think. I still have to laugh at the fact that this buffoon has fans like he's a rock star or something.

The Longshore Stacks always gave me the impression that it was the most civilized place in Dogtown, if there is any. Sure, it's pretty much impossible not to bump into some junkie or otherwise mentally deranged person when walking the streets, but this is where I still feel like it's the most enjoyable place to be. A small community of people trying to live their lives in this surreal place. The ‘Tree of the Lost’ as the locals call it really moved me when I saw it for the first time. Of course, I have no idea who the people here or what their fates are. I just pick up conversations in passing whenever I go there. And I don't feel connected enough to the people there to ask serious questions. It's not my business, to put it bluntly. But I think it's a beautiful and at the same time heartbreaking idea. The bartender at ‘The Moth’ is pretty cool. I've had a few interesting conversations with her already.

There's this completely run down cinema in the center of Dogtown. Like everything else, I assumed that it must have been taken over by some gang or homeless people, so I never really paid much attention to it. Kurt asked me to meet him there one evening after work. As it turned out, the cinema was unoccupied. And the inside of it was actually still in good condition. Not gonna lie, it really could have been opened. But the clientele in this junkyard would probably have completely looted the place within a day or razed it to the ground if you didn't protect it with a few Barghest puppies. And unfortunately ‘pure entertainment’ isn't important enough for that, I don't blame Kurt for that opinion. But I'd like to punch him every time he has such exaggeratedly cheesy date ideas. Or rather, I'd like to slap myself because I think it's *sigh* cute how much effort he puts in. He actually invited me to the stupid cinema to watch a Tarantino with him, which he had specially organized. Reservoir Dogs from 1992. Of course he had no idea what it was about and just went for it because it had the word ‘Dog’ in it. 

Before I head into the workshop or afterwards I like to drive around in the badlands. To get a clear mind for the tasks ahead or to deflate myself from a long tiring day. In any case, at a time when the heat in this shitty state is halfway bearable. There’s a really nice view not far out off the city on Dogtown I like to head from time to time. I showed it Kurt already too, because that donkey can’t set a foot outside his little empire without me kickin’ his ass to do so.

I encountered a family of Nomads one day while exploring those dry dusty desserts around Night City. They are part of the Aldecaldos I at least heard of before. They were quite suspicious when I first got there. But after a quick exchange of words and telling them I used to ride with a clan too, they got quite curious and invited me for a stay. The friendliness they approached me with after just a short time really warmed my heart and brought back some fond memories. And we had so much to talk about. I really hope they will stay for a little longer in the city so I can head out again to meet with them.

On my way around the badlands, I one day came across this lake. I need to ask Kurt about it, because I really doubt it’s natural and probably some sort of Corpo-disaster. But it’s a really peaceful and silent place, though I’d never set foot into the water. Probably will get a shitton of diseases within seconds. There’s also a small cabin not far off the road. So it seems like someone else is enjoying the views and calmness of this place as well from time to time.

Kurt: You forgot about one place you like in Dogtown. 

Aon: Enlighten me. 

Kurt: Right by my side.

Aon: *sigh* Should have seen that coming. 

Aon: But you’re right. 

Kurt: Told ya’. 

[fieldofdaisiies]

azriel x eris | 3k words | warnings: none | masterlist

Skarlet leaves, glimmering in the sunlight that filters through the tree tops, dance in the wind, swirling and doing barrel rolls in the breeze that blows through the forest. 

His booted feet are planted in a stance atop the yellow-ish, brown grass, Eris exhales a long breath and then fills his lungs with a deep inhale of the crisp morning air. 

Large, looming trees rise out of the earth all around him and brush against the sky. The sun-dappled leaves create flickering shadows that remind him of a male, but he doesn’t want to dwell on thoughts about the shadowsinger, he has no time for such idiotic things, not when the future of the Autumn Court is at stake. He shoves the thoughts away, until there is just nothingness within his mind. 

He leans his head to the sound, listening to sounds around him – the chirping of birds and wind brushing through the leaves. The cool air is like balm to his soul, to his skin and his aching, heavy heart. In moments like this he allows himself to forget about everything – Beron, Koschei, Azriel. 

The light breeze blowing through the forest this morning sends a shudder of movement through the branches, making him even more aware of the peace that surrounds him deep within the forest. When Eris lowers his head, he can see animal trails crisscrossing beneath him. He smiles to himself – nature has always been able to calm his mind and heart. To make him feel fully at ease. To allow him to rest for a few minutes. 

It is what he needs right now. He turns his head to look around – light dances on the fern fronds, glittering off of morning dew and then the corners of his mouth kick up when howling and barking fills his ears. He closes his eyes for a second, reveling in the noises that get louder and louder by the second, and when he opens his lids again, he sees them.

Almost like a wild hunt, his hounds, twelve of them, grey and sleek like smoke, race through the forest as fast as the wind, heading for their owner who is patiently waiting for them. He set a prey, winnowed away, let them race there, and winnowed away one again – training for his precious pets. 

“Good boys!” The laugh that leaves Eris is honest, his heart feeling a little lighter now that he spends time outside with his precious animals. He inhales a deep breath of the crisp and fresh morning air, smelling so wonderful right after it had been raining almost the whole night. He fills his lungs to the brim, holding eye-contact with his oldest and most loyal dog who eagerly wiggles his tail.

“Another round.” Eris tilts his chin at the hounds and earns himself a loud snort from Cerberus, his most precious and beloved pet. Eris only winks at him and is gone in the next moment, leaving nothing but swirling pine needles and leaves behind. 

It continues like this for a while, until only after many hours, they return to the Forest House. Eris sends his hounds inside to get their breakfast which only chosen sentries are allowed to feed them, providing them only with food that Eris allows them too – his previous hounds only deserve the best. 

In the meantime the prince strips out of his sweat-drenched shirt, and his loose pants. He washes and then he is gone again, before either of his parents can question where he is heading to. 

Hunting, he will say when he returns. It is a good face-saver, the best he can come up with. He used to go hunting a lot when he was younger, it had gotten less when he and his brothers, his hunting companions, started to drift apart. 

Eris is heading to stables after collecting two freshly baked rolls from the kitchen and eating them up in a few big bites; after hours of training his hungry, but he can’t waste any time on a proper meal. 

“Lord Eris,” Margot, the masterchef greets him, showing him a reproachful look. She doesn’t like it when he hurries when it comes to food, she always wants him to eat slowly, and enjoy it. Eris flashes her a polite smile and then he slips out of the door and is gone before she can stop him and force him to eat something else, or more. 

His steps tread rather lightly on the straw-covered ground when he enters the stables, heading for his horse – the large, black horse one of his sentries has already put a saddle on for him, now handing him the reins. 

“Good hunting, my lord,” the sentry says and bows his head. Eris dips his chin in thanks and goodbye. 

With practiced ease, Eris hoists himself onto the horse's back, and with  a gentle nudge of his heel, he urges the horse forward. They begin to move, at a rather leisurely pace, but it is important to keep his lie up. It shouldn’t look like something is rushing him, if Beron should watch him depart (which he often does, always keeping his eyes on everything that happens in his court.)

Eris doesn’t mind the slow space, not when he actually wants and needs a few moments just for himself, to prepare. 

He hasn’t really spoken much to Kallax, his younger brother, in the past years. Not alone, that be it, but only in his father’s presence. Kallax, just like Eris’ other brothers, distanced himself a lot from both Eris and Beron, as well as the Forest House. The last time they all were together was probably the High Lord’s meeting…

Eris releases a deep sigh, hands not holding the reins too tightly, his horse as obedient as every other horse in this court. 

He has always been closest with Kallax; safe for the time where he and Lucien were an inseparable team… 

Kallax and him are only eight years apart, most of their life they have spent with each other (safe for the time where Kallax, Geras and Merat joined the war camps and didn’t come home that often). Even before Under the Mountain, distance started to stretch out between them. Nothing happened to harm their closeness, it just happened, subtly and over a longer expanse of time. And after Amarantha’s reign, it had fully spread out, almost like a plague, the time in Amarantha’s grasp probably having left their toll on everyone. 

His little brother is in many ways very similar to him – he loves the hounds, and he loves hunting and nature, but he is a born warrior. Not a leader. Not a High Lord. Kallax has always liked combat, preferred fighting over talking, and has mostly spoken with his hands instead of his mouth. When it comes to females, he also shares a different opinion than Eris. Not only concerning preferences where Eris most definitely favours males, but in terms of how females should be treated. Eris knows that his little brother is now often seen with a Forest Nymph, if Kallax changes his misogynistic beliefs for her, is yet to be seen, though. 

The Forest Nymph is a well-hidden secret, since the second-oldest Vanserra brother knows exactly what would happen if he found himself a lover that is a lesser fae. He saw what was done to Lucien’s…Jesminda. He was there that day. He held Lucien, made him watch…and that is something Eris will never forgive him for.

Kallax hides his Forest-Nymph, but Eris knows everything, has his ears and eyes everywhere, but of course, his brother’s secret is safe with him. He couldn’t protect Lucien and Jesminda – this time he won’t fail one of his brothers. The crisp air kisses his face when he rides deeper into the forest, already getting closer to the border, the earthy scent of fallen leaves mingling with the smell of damp soil. Sunlight peaks through the tree tops, making the colours of the leaves around him appear just a little richer. 

A feeling of trepidation blooms within his chest, making his heart feel just a little heavier. He shifts uncomfortably atop his horse, fiddling with the reins. Eris is normally not one to be nervous, but something about this meeting makes him feel a little tense. What will Kallax say? Will he have his trust? Does he have to earn it first?

Kallax is proud and ambitious, cruel in some ways, and ignorant about many things. He can be egostic and only agree to things that really concern himself and sometimes all of these traits combined get the best of him. When he was a young male, he always wanted to prove something to their father (maybe still does) and tried to be the perfect son over and over again, which formed his heart cruel in a way that Eris finds shocking, but not surprising. 

His own heart has been wrenched and wrecked by his father, destroyed and left in pieces. Beron tried to turn him into a monster, but he wants to be stronger. And he also hopes that Kallax wants to be stronger. Wants to be a better male than what Beron tried to turn them into, wants to try to be good. 

Normally, when approaching people Eris who needs to talk to about something, he is confident, not once was he nervous or unsure when talking to the Lord of Bloodshed, or the other High Lords. But with his brother it is different. 

A unique sense of anxiousness takes root inside of him the moment he spots his brother in the distance, casually leaning against a tree, one ankle crossed over the other, head tipped back, sunlight falling upon his pale face. Behind him, there are only towering ruins, stone covered in ivy and moss.

The tension doesn’t fade until he is only a short distance away from his brother.

He drags in a deep inhale, blows it out through his nose. He gently pulls on the reins, signaling his horse to halt. Sliding effortlessly out of the saddle, he lands on the forest ground with a soft thud. He pats the horse on the back, whispering some words to it and it trots away (where to, only Eris and the horse know).

Kallax’ eyes open, and a snort leaves him. 

“Eris.” Cool boredom laces his expression when Kallax pushes off the tree, sauntering casually towards his older brother. 

Out of everyone, Kallax resembles Eris the most. He is equally tall, with slighter broader shoulders, nothing but swagger in his demeanour when his eyes scan the surroundings. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his beige breeches, his jacket made of luxurious dark green fabric, adorned with golden embroidery, and his long auburn hair is tied back into a low bun.

“Interesting choice of place, I must say.” Kallax keeps one hand in the pocket of his breeches, the other he uses to brush back a few strands of loose hair when he stops in front of Eris, letting his eyes run over his older brother. His brow kicks up a little, curiosity shining brightly within his eyes. 

“We used to come here a lot when we were younger.” Eris turns his gaze away from the younger Vanserra brother, observing the old ruins and large trees. They are at the edge of an old forest, as far away from the Forest House as possible, and quite close to the Spring Court border, near an outpost of the Autumn Court war camps. The war camps Kallax lives in.

Time-worn remnants of what once used to be a castle surround them. The ruins are covered in moss and ivy, and when they used to go there when they were younger they always pretended to be in an ancient fortress full of secrets and mysteries.

Secrets…

Towering, weathered trees surround them, shielding them completely from the outside world. No preying eyes having a chance to catch them. 

“What do you want, Eris?” Kallax exhales a long breath, then rolls back his shoulders. He looks at Eris, then directs his gaze skywards. Eris has no idea what caught his attention there, but he decides to deliberately ignore it. 

“Zen and two Autumn Court war bands are stationed at the border to Summer now. For protection against Summer and also Night.”

“I know.” Eris‘ younger brother shrugs his shoulders, ignorance etched on his face. He seems like he couldn’t care any less, like this talk with Eris is the greatest waste of his time possible. “That’s not why you wanted to talk to me, right?”

Kallax takes a few steps to the side, resting his back against the weathered stone walls, then crosses one ankle over the other. He observes Eris, gaze slowly running over his older brother, assessing him. 

Kallax is truly a born-warrior, and once Eris is High Lord he will make him his general. If it ever gets to that point. 

Eris doesn’t really know why his father never made him general of the Autumn Court armies – Kallax is perfect for this position.

“I think you can imagine why I asked you to come here.” Eris takes a few steps forward, kicking away a branch, hands clasped behind his back. 

Kallax smirks. “Beron.”

Eris doesn’t let his surprise show about his brother not using “father” but Beron‘s name. It seems odd, Kallax has always been fond of their father, or was this also just a mask? One similar to the one Eris is wearing daily? Could it be that just like he himself, Kallax also resents their father?

Eris veils his face in indifference, holding eye contact with his brother. “Yes.”

Kallax raises a brow, almost in a mocking, pitiful way. “He isn’t telling you much lately, huh?”

Eris bristles and shakes his head. There is no need for lying now, it would get him nowhere. He needs to have all the information he can get, and if he isn’t honest to Kallax now, when should he be? 

If he wants the Autumn Court to change for the better he needs the support of his brothers, only together can they make it work. Kallax as his general, Zen as Kallax’s second in command, and Geras…in some other important position. Maybe. 

“No, he isn’t, but that’s not why I asked you to come here.” Eris is right in front of Kallax by then, the tips of their shoes almost touching. 

“Oh?” Kallax raises a neatly trimmed brow.

“You know what I have to do.”

A wildfire erupts in Kallax‘s amber eyes, the corner of his mouth kicking up to form a vicious grin and then he drags his thumb across his throat.

Eris huffs and lowers his chin to his chest. Then he nods. 

“And you need my help for it?” The question is posed without any kind of emotion, but still lethality laces every word.

Dread coils in Eris‘ gut. Never, never in the world, would he ever pull someone else into this with him. It is too dangerous. He quickly shakes his head. 

“I need you to—” He cuts himself off and clears his throat. “If things go wrong, I need you to leave.”

Kallax’s brow knits. “What?”

“If things go wrong, you can’t stay here. Neither can Zen, or Geras. Beron will suspect you supporting me or following in my footsteps and I can’t risk it. He is already driven by fear — his sanity, if he ever had one, left him long ago.”

“I can’t leave. I—”

Eris grabs his younger brother by the shoulder, then pins him with a look. “You and your sweet little Forest Nymph leave the moment word about my death reaches you. You will head to Spring, with Zen and Geras. You are gone before Beron can only as much as think about going after you.”

Surprise passes over Kallax’s face, but is soon replaced by an emotion Eris has barely ever seen on his younger brother’s face. Worry.

“You won’t die,” Kallax says and his voice sounds so much younger, almost boyish and vulnerable. In this moment, Kallax reminds him of the young boy he used to be who came running to Eris, crying tears and snot, after Beron beat bloody about stupid mistakes or accidents. 

Kallax’s lips open and close a few times, then he says, “You are going to be the next High Lord, Eris. You are—”

“If things go wrong, you leave.” Eris grows impatient and shakes his brother by the shoulder.

“What about mother?”

“I will take care of her.” Their gazes are still locked, and Eris lets his brother see the honesty in them. “She will be safe.”

“You promise?”

Eris‘ gaze flicks to the ground, shoulders and chest heaving with a deep inhale. “I promise.”

Slowly, tentatively, his eyes lift and he removes his hand from his brother’s shoulder. His jaw clenches and for a moment they only look at each other, no conversation passing between them, but it is all in their eyes. The silent trust, the brotherly bond though weakened but still manifested in their hearts, and the secret promises — the prosperity of a better future.

“I can trust you, Kallax.” A statement, not a question.

Kallax steps away from the weathered ruins, finger dragging over the in ivy covered stone before he moves further away, towards the large trees looming behind them. “You are my brother, Eris. You are my family.” Kallax turns away.

“Beron is also your family.”

Kallax snorts, shakes his head and in the next moment he is gone. He winnowed away.

“Bastard,” Eris growls and fights the urge to show a vulgare to the empty place where his brother stood.

He calms himself and then a split second later mist, almost like shadows, curls around his body, and his feet leave the ground and when his eyes open he finds himself in a wholly different surrounding, large trees looming around him, birds chirping and flowers of all colours blooming wherever he looks.

And there he is, the tall shadowy figure – a stark contrast to all the bright colours, causally leaning against a tree full of lush green leaves, his eyes closed, his expression somehow peaceful. 

In a polished, velvety voice Eris makes himself known, “Shadowsinger.”

tag list for ACOCD @hnyclover @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @queercontrarian @fandomsmultiverse @acourtofbatboydreams @chunkypossum @baileybird71 @beckkthewreck @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival @owllover123 @acotarobsessed @goldenmagnolias @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @v3lv3tf0x @talibunny30 @allyhill @popjunkie42 @skyesayshi @going-through-shit @mybestfriendmademe

general Azris tag list: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams

[rubyiiiusions]

crawls out of the void,,, here u go bowuigi enjoyers

tongues and teeth // bowser x luigi

word count 2244 // ao3 link

summary: “Ah, rigatoni… I’m sorry–” “It’s fine.” “...Oh. Eh… has no one ever called your singing beautiful before?” “...Not in so many words.” (or, luigi is afraid of a lot of things, but fire has never been one of them, much to his dismay.) [rated T: mario movie spoilers, hurt/comfort, torture, rough kissing but they dont kiss its just really gay ass dialogue]

He’d banged his head against the bars, jolting as the chains above him whirred away. …Great, just as I thought I could stop having a panic attack, Luigi thought wryly, hissing in pain and scrambling to his feet as he was lifted, his cage pulled up into the gaping maw of the ceiling. Below him, a few of the penguins(and of course that absolutely enlightening blue star, but Luigi had been trying to filter out its voice) squawked out protests or questions, and he bit his lip. Like I chose to be here! He wanted to yell. I never wanted to go in the sewers, I never wanted to get sucked in here, I never wanted to leave my brother! I just wanted to start a business, wanted to prove to my dad that I’m more than just a good student…

I just want to go home. 

“Here he is, your highness!” The wizard chirped, far too cheerfully, and Luigi let out a small, nervous laugh, giving his captor a small wave and trying not to instinctively rub the sore spot where a few of his mustache hairs had once been. 

Luigi could see the smoke curling in the air as it left Bowser’s nostrils. It was almost mesmerizing, the way he could see the barely-held-back fire, trapped in his maw, glowing and flickering in the dim light of the throne room. If he wasn’t terrified, he’d be curious. 

“Shoo, Kamek,” the King dismissed, and the wizard instantly scurried away, muttering a quick yes sir. And, suddenly, they were alone. 

Luigi’s heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bowser, letting out a quiet heh and pulling at the collar of his shirt nervously. For a moment, all his captor was doing was studying him, tracing his figure, as if imagining what it would be like to tear him apart, how his skeleton would look bare, skin burnt to a crisp. 

“Is… there a reason you brought me here, L-Lord Bowser?” He ventured tentatively, sweat beading from his forehead and dripping down his neck. 

The Koopa let out a huff that could have passed for amused. “Never had one of my prisoners call me ‘lord’ before,” he mused, and extended a hand. A glowing, shimmering star materialized in his palm, spinning at his will. It pulsed and thrummed, like a heartbeat loud enough to rival Luigi’s own, power radiating from it in waves. Bored, Bowser flicked it with a finger, sending it spinning across the room, before calling it back to his grasp. 

“Eh… what would you prefer?” Luigi asked, trying and failing to tear his gaze away and instead opting to awkwardly readjust his hat. “King? Majesty? Sovereign? Sir? Master?”

Bowser seemed to choke on something before clearing his throat. He closed his fist and the star flickered back to its place behind his throne. “Lord and King are fine, thank you,” he snarled, more embarrassed than hostile. Luigi took a sheepish step back. 

“You… bald ape people fascinate me,” he muttered, more for himself than Luigi. The human furrowed his eyebrows. “So small, so… smooth. Warm-blooded. It’s odd.” 

“We’re… uh, we’re called humans, sir,” Luigi attempted, voice small, but Bowser didn’t acknowledge him. “Majestic, even…” the Koopa was muttering, lost in his own thoughts. “Is there…”

He snapped back to attention and took a booming step forward. “You! Uhh…”

“Luigi,” He tried to state calmly, but it came out as more of a squeak. 

“Luigi. Yes.” Bowser clasped his hands together. Luigi tilted his head curiously. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that the Koopa King was nervous. “I have a very important question for you.”

“Me?” Luigi almost whimpered, and his heart was racing. …Mamma mia, what have I gotten myself into?

“Well, duh. You’re the only one here,” Bowser muttered, still quiet, and Luigi stifled a yelp of fear at the reminder, taking another step back. He cleared his throat and, surprisingly, seemed to retreat into his shell a bit, eyes darting from his talons to the volcanic brick floor to Luigi and back again. “Let me… present a hypothetical situation. You look like her. If… if you were a powerful, strong, heart-stoppingly beautiful princess who led her subjects to great prosperity, would you fall in love with me?”

Luigi blinked. “What.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Princess Peach!” Bowser snapped, casting his gaze skyward, as if a spotlight was trained on him as he went into a powerful, heartbreaking monologue, Romeo and Juliet style. “The most beautiful princess in all the land? Blue eyes, blond hair? Ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom, which I’m about to raze to the ground as I ask for her hand in marriage?” There were stars in his eyes, somehow glimmering brighter than the one shining behind his throne. “She’s… she’s perfect. I’m going to rule the world by her side. We’ll destroy everything… together.” 

Luigi let out a small, nervous laugh. “I… eh, I don’t know if I can answer for the princess… I’ve never met her, and–”

“Let me rephrase,” Bowser snarled, and suddenly he was towering over Luigi’s cage, smoke curling from his open mouth, rumbling in a growl. He yelped and scrambled backward. “If you were Peach, would you fall in love with me?”

“Y–Yes!” Luigi blurted, terrified, and Bowser’s eyes widened. A genuine smile spread across his face. What the hell is wrong with this guy? 

“As I assumed!” The King clapped his hands, turning to hide his excitement. Luigi found he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Thanks for your help–not that I needed it, or that you had a choice,” He quickly tacked on, shooting him a glare that somehow seemed forced. “I wasn’t nervous, by the way.”

Bowser waved a hand and the chains holding Luigi’s cage in place began to whir, sinking slowly back into the ground. Luigi kept his eyes trained on that shell, shining in the flickering firelight, and that tail that whisked back and forth happily until the throne room turned into a sliver of light and disappeared. He let out a sigh of relief, far too shaken to unpack any of the truth in his words. 

-

“If… ah, if you don’t mind me asking… what’s so special about this ‘Peach’?” Luigi ventured. He would have been terrified–hell, he still was, but he could breathe and his heart wasn’t threatening to beat out of his chest, so he counted that as a partial victory–if these… visits hadn’t become a regular occurrence. It was like clockwork; every night(or what he could only assume was night–the time his internal clock was begging him to sleep, but that wasn’t quite a reliable source) chains would start whirring and he’d be pulled back up to the throne room, face to face with King Bowser himself. If he wasn’t so put off, he’d be bored, but there was something about him that seemed to spark a flame in Luigi’s chest, as if preparing him to burn to a crisp. 

Bowser had a faraway look in his eyes that, for once, was marred with conflict. “She’s… she’s beautiful,” he murmured, and Luigi studied the sudden softness in his expression. “She has heart-shaped bangs, the voice of an angel, the strength of a thousand men, the…” He trailed off, cleared his throat. “What an absurd question. Now, tell me. If you were Peach, would you be entranced by this song?”

(He couldn’t answer for the princess, but Luigi was so drawn in by his bellowing, trembling voice, shaking with emotion, that he couldn’t do anything but nod, couldn’t tear his eyes away from those fangs, curved and sharpened to a knife’s point, couldn’t turn away no matter how much of a bad idea this was. He was a prisoner, after all, but he’d been beginning to wonder if it was to the Koopa King or his own, traitorous, fearful(aflame) heart.)

-

“Your voice is beautiful,” Luigi couldn’t help but murmur in the deafening silence that followed. Bowser let out a small huff, a tiny smile flickering on his face for a moment. 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me and meant it.”

Luigi turned, eyes wide with shock. He was sitting at the foot of the piano, and he could have ran. Should have ran. But there was nowhere to go, and what harm could one more song do? 

“...Really?”

Bowser shrugged, seemingly resigned, soft around the edges. “I mean, the only other person I’ve ever sung for this way is Kamek, and… well, you know. Brainwashed and everything.”

“Huh.” Luigi studied the king’s eyes and, for the first time, saw something that might have been sadness in them. 

(His irises were auburn, a gnarled tree caught aflame.)

“So you think Peach will like it?” He asked, soft voice betraying the hidden longing in his expression. 

“Mamma mia… I’d be surprised if she didn’t,” Luigi answered honestly, and something trembled in his chest.

-

Luigi yelped as a claw curled around his mustache, pulling playfully at the hairs. “Wha–yeowch–what are you doing?”

“Physical torture,” Bowser responded bluntly, before breaking off into a bellowing laugh. Fear and awe, in equal parts, boomed in his chest.

“Eh… I thought…”

“Wrong!” Bowser hummed, gleeful, and the malicious grin on his face widened as his claw moved from tugging at mustache hairs to tracing Luigi’s jawline past his ear to flick his hat. “You’re my prisoner. I’ll do as I please. What, did you forget? You’re entirely at my mercy.”

He should have been afraid. Was afraid. But…

That fire, glowing from behind Bowser’s barely parted grin. The way his eyes flashed, fiery amber. He was afraid of a lot of things, but flames… flames had never been one of them. No matter how much it hurt as they singed his fingers.

-

“Ah, rigatoni… I’m sorry–”

“It’s fine.”

“...Oh. Eh… has no one ever called your playing beautiful before?”

“...Not in so many words.”

-

He knew it was the beginning of the end when as his eyes were drooping, the chains didn’t clank and whir anymore, didn’t pull him up to what had somehow become his escape. He heard a faint whooping of joy above, the newly-captured Kongs and Toads sitting sullenly in their cages, some rattling their bars and others yelling at the floating, ever-cheerful turquoise star, and bit his lip.

What the hell had he been thinking? How had he let that fear, the only thing keeping him alive right now(and maybe not his brother, but–no, he couldn’t, wouldn’t think about that right now) morph into something entirely different, something he was afraid to put a name to? Why hadn’t he noticed? Why–

Oh, no… why did he miss his voice?

-

The wave of relief that surged through him as Mario swiped him out of midair with a cry, pulling him close into a tight hug, swearing to never let go, was almost enough to extinguish the fire.

Almost. 

But as Luigi’s eyes caught Bowser’s, as the ice shattered, as the volcano roared and the princess he’d heard so much about cried out, reaching out in vain as the bullet bill surged towards her castle, seemingly infinitesimal in the shadow of Bowser’s Castle, he felt a spark lick its way from his stomach up his spine, through his veins, and settle into a flickering flame in his chest.

It had been nothing compared to this; the searing metal trash can lid, the burns on his palms, stinging, and the metal was bending. The star thrummed behind him and Bowser’s panicked roar echoed in his ears, humming humming humming with the fire that licked just beside him, curling around his mustache in a way that had him seeing stars.

He wondered–was this what it was like to feel alive? To burn?

And then–

A white glow, searing behind his eyelids, but it was cold. Fast moving, like an icy, brittle moon orbiting its sun, and his skin was shimmering, tingling with a numbness that made him uneasy. Nonetheless, power flooded through his veins, beating with his heart, and he narrowed his eyes. 

Fear was a good look on Bowser. So was defeated, lying facedown in the dust. Luigi had a strange urge to reach down and smooth the tangles in his hair. Almost a shame, how pathetic he looked, rendered to nothingness and trapped in that jar.

-

(He dreamt of his voice, of full, booming piano tones and bursts of flame, of amber eyes.)

-

Luigi was jostled awake to the realization that he couldn’t breathe or move. His eyes widened and he stifled a yelp. His wrists were bound, behind his back and tied to a chair, and sweat beaded at his neck. The walls were flickering, and fear bloomed in his stomach. 

A rumbling laugh, far too familiar, echoed throughout… wherever he was, and he whimpered. Something stirred in his chest, and he gasped when he realized it was a spark. It was too late–the flame was already fueled. 

“You’re an amusing one,” Bowser growled, low and cocky as he lumbered forward. Oh, how Luigi wished that voice didn’t send a shiver down his spine, equal parts relief, yearning, and fear. A claw hooked under his neck, thumb playfully teasing his mustache before poking at his lower lip, mouth agape. Bowser licked his lips. “I think I’ll keep you.” 

[yermes]

PAC: 🫐

Hello to the touch starved, people entering their OG JB era, and the gays. Let me tell YOU why you do not have a bf

Pick a meme

Pick a card

Knight of swords 🦈

Lord of the Wind and Breezes, fiery part of air, 20�� Taurus to 20° Gemini, Chokmah, Yod

You are active courageous and fierce! Which are all great qualities but you may come across as intimidating. When you spend all your time on that grind set and taking care of everyone but yourself you crave someone who will take care of you. But you are getting in your own way. You want to be venerable but you’re fight or flight has been firing for so long its almost like you need to relearn and be venerable with yourself before you do it for anyone else.

Happiness 🪭

Nine of cups, Yesod through water, Jupiter 2. Pisces

Your little heart just has so much to give that you constantly get pulled in by pieces of shit who want to use your kindness momentarily and move onto the next. But lowkey you kind of indulge on this and feel vanity through how other people think of you/ use you. Use your powers for good and protect your heart.

Two of Pents 🥚

Lord of Harmonious change, Chokmah, Jupiter in Capricorn, 1°–10°, Herein rule the angels, Lekabel and Veshiriah

You are in a very inconsistent part of your life. You are experiencing many loses but also many gains! You are in an every shifting part of your life where you crave stability. But how can you crave something you almost never possess? You may find yourself projecting your vision of stability on other people and these people filter in and out like other aspects of your life.

Queen of disks 🕷️

21° sag - 20° cap, binah, water in the earth of assiah

You are a very family and material driven person. You want to use love to grow and create. However your need to create may put you in a corner and may make you dependent on the feeling. Relationships shouldn’t be dependent. People don’t make you happy the only thing that can is drugs. At the root of this you need to be able to generate your own happiness before you can start projecting your creativity on others.

[silviakundera]

Love's Rebellion ep 4 -8 watch comments (warning: these are my raw thoughts, so can be critical. don't read if that will upset you.)

I am enjoying the drama now less than in the first 3 episodes. I think it's that I have limited patience for nice characters pretending to be menacing. I'm ready for them actually to be communicating with each other and working off the same page.

I can see that he's becoming soft for her, since she's so obviously a nice person (and because of seal thingy we know he canonically has a pure heart). But I want more sexual and/or romantic tension than what they are giving so far. ML has made some effort but I'll be honest, I'm feeling nothing coming back from the FL actress. (i.e. nothing in her micro expressions & body language)

Gonna try to fast forward thru things.

Fox clan prince has been introduced. He doesn't like women; he only loves himself. So there is our first grey character.

Episode 5

It's so dumb that she believes in the fake death curse that I refuse to acknowledge this is happening

They are finally turning on some romance but guys, slow mo and mid music is not the answer. Just ask them to both ACT like they're falling in love.

The Great Sect dicks are being dicks, except 1 junior good boy

Young Dragon Lord is still a bro. Very appealing loser.

Episode 6-8

Continuing the situation where she's a nice person, but there's little in her individual performance that indicates she likes him that way. While it's clear that he has started falling for her.

Fox guy is just annoying. Sorry to all fox fans out there.

ah, memories of Super Sus Shifu. Why did ML of the canonically pure heart plead guilty? 🤔 The reason is gonna be some noble idiocy, I'm sure.

More contrived misunderstandings. The writing is forcing her to be annoyingly foolish. Why would she assume he is only after her pearl when he's never been the slightest bit interested in it?

This thing where they are always at odds for petty reasons, a fake-ass enemies to lovers, is wearing thin. Real enemies to lovers, I like. This stuff isn't to my taste. I am not a determined-to-dispute, bickering to lovers trope fan.

Now everyone's in mortal peril from boat lady, the demon elder of Evil Path sect. Sadly, she also bores me.

I like ML and FL ok (when they are getting along) and I do like Dragon bro. Add in fox and demon jiejie and 💤💤💤

Ugly cgi gremlin makes another appearance

ML shows up finally as backup. But will this just end up another annoying misunderstanding?

So after he rescues her and puts her necklace back on, they actually have a mutual romantic moment!

She's finally figured out he's a Canonically Pure Heart™ who is all bark, no bite

Now can you just get along for multiple episodes in a row???

There is absolutely no reason to forgive duplicitous fox boy and not wipe his memory and kick him the fuck out. 😑

On the plus side, we are finally getting some warm vibes back from her

oh how nice, poisioned hot pot. The fox betrayed them AGAIN. And once again he just says shit and FL lets it go. 😒

We actually get a moment of her appearing attracted to Shao Cang! 😯

I still attest that you don't need lense flares, slow mo, or tinted filters to communicate affection. Just acting. Someone ring Richard Li, he can show you how it's done.

I have enjoyed objectively worse & lower budget dramas, but somehow LR isn't clicking in with me. It somehow doesn't have that cdrama feel that compels me... Perhaps I'm not hooking into that emotional sincerity; so many things are constantly happening but they feel like noise and I don't have emotional resonance from the episodes. Characters are frequently picking at each other & prodding at each other, which fills up time on screen but that's what it all feels like... filler. Somehow the vibes remind me less of a cdrama and more about the fantasy adventure genre of tv series that were being aired on Sci-fi (Syfy) network and the BBC circa 2005 - 2015. And tbh I mostly watched those shows because of fandom participation and fan outputs, not for the media product on its own.

I've commented before that cdramas finally introduced me to "good guy" characters that I wholeheartedly love and see as badass. But these leads aren't that style of protagonist. This isn't Xie Lian, Shen Qiao, Tang Fan, et al. So I'm left wishing that FL and ML were more ruthless, calculating, and grey.

[baldwinivmybeloved]

𖥔 ۪ܺׄ Charper Twenty Five ۪۪ ❤︎ ⊹ Xica X Baldwin IV

The days passed, and Xica's pregnancy progressed normally. The palace was filled with a mix of excitement and preparation for the arrival of the twins. Baldwin, despite his own physical limitations, was determined to be a constant support for Xica, who faced each day with courage and joy.

The morning sun filtered through the windows of the royal bedroom. Xica, with one hand resting on her growing belly, woke up with a smile. Baldwin was beside her, watching her tenderly.

"Good morning, my love," Baldwin said, leaning in to kiss her gently on the forehead.

"Good morning, Baldwin." Xica returned his smile. "Our little ones seem very active this morning."

Baldwin chuckled softly. "They’re already showing their character. I'm sure they'll be as strong and brave as their mother."

Later that day, as Xica rested in the palace garden, Jacobino approached with his usual air of mystery and wisdom.

"My dear child, today I have something important to share with you," Jacobino said, sitting down beside her.

"What is it, Jacobino?" Xica asked, curious.

Jacobino closed his eyes for a moment, as if tuning into an invisible force. Then, he opened them and spoke with a deep, assured voice.

"I have had a vision about your twins. Both will lead full and successful lives, but their personalities will be completely different. One will be a natural leader, charismatic and brave. The other, though more reserved, will possess a wisdom and empathy that will touch many hearts."

Xica listened intently, with a mix of hope and excitement. "Thank you, Jacobino. Your words fill me with peace and joy."

In the main hall, Xavier and Baldwin were busy discussing the preparations for the arrival of the twins. Xica entered the room and couldn't help but laugh when she saw Baldwin trying to make sense of the baby supplies list.

"Do we really need so many things?" Baldwin asked, puzzled.

Xavier nodded firmly. "Yes, my lord. Babies require a lot of care. And besides, there will be two." Xavier turned to Xica and winked. "Don't worry, my lady, we'll make sure everything is perfect."

Xica laughed, feeling relieved by her friends' support. "Thank you both. I know that with your help, everything will be fine."

As Baldwin and Xica were in the library, going through books on raising twins, Xica began to feel a sudden craving.

"Baldwin, I'd love something sweet to eat. Could you bring me some fruit?" Xica asked with a playful smile.

Baldwin, always eager to please her, quickly went to fetch the fruit. When he returned, he found Xica laughing to herself.

"What's so funny, love?" Baldwin asked, handing her the tray of fruit.

"I was thinking about how our children will probably tease us someday for being so protective," Xica replied, still laughing.

Baldwin joined in her laughter. "I'm sure they will. But that will only mean we've raised them well, with love and care."

In the privacy of their room, Baldwin couldn't help but express his concerns to Xica.

"Xica, I'm worried about my health. I don't want our children to see me weak or sick." His voice was filled with anguish.

Xica hugged him tightly, caressing his face tenderly. "Baldwin, you are a brave king and a wonderful husband. Our children will see you as the strong and loving man you are, no matter what."

Baldwin looked at her with gratitude, finding comfort in her words. "You always know how to calm my heart."

In the palace courtyard, Baldwin, Xica, Xavier, and Jacobino sat together, enjoying a peaceful afternoon.

"Let’s promise to always stay together, supporting each other," Xica said, looking at the three men who meant so much to her.

"Promise," Baldwin, Xavier, and Jacobino said in unison.

The afternoon was filled with laughter, stories, and plans for the future, as the four prepared for the arrival of the twins with hearts full of love and hope.

That night, as Baldwin and Xica prepared for bed, Baldwin gently caressed Xica's belly.

"Our children will be very lucky to have you as their mother," Baldwin murmured.

"And they will be lucky to have you as their father," Xica replied, kissing him softly.

They embraced, feeling the deep connection and love that united them, confident that together, they could face any challenge life presented them.

The night was calm. Baldwin and Xica, embraced under the sheets, stared at the ceiling as their thoughts drifted towards the future. Baldwin broke the silence with a voice full of worry.

"Xica, I can't stop thinking about how much time I have left. I don't know if I'll live long enough to see our children grow up," Baldwin confessed, his tone laden with sadness.

Xica looked at him intently, gently caressing his face. "Baldwin, don't think about that now. You have to have faith that you'll be here to see them grow. I believe in you, and I know you'll be an incredible father."

Baldwin sighed, trying to find comfort in her words. "It's just that… I fear I won't have the vitality needed to take care of them. Children need energy and strength, and I…"

Xica interrupted him softly, placing her finger over his lips. "Baldwin, you have the greatest strength of all: your love for us. That's the strength our children will need, and you will have it in abundance. Besides, you're not alone in this. We will have Xavier, Jacobino, and all our friends to help us."

Baldwin nodded, trying to let go of his fears. "You're right, my love. I'm grateful to have you by my side. Together, we can overcome any obstacle."

After a moment of silence, Baldwin changed the subject, attempting to bring some lightness to the conversation. "We've talked a lot about our children, but we still haven't decided on their names."

Xica smiled, grateful for the change in topic. "You're right. Do you have any names in mind?"

Baldwin thought for a moment. "If they are boys, I've always liked the name Philippe or Sehin. It's strong and noble."

Xica nodded, liking the choice. "It's a good name. And for girls, I've always loved the name Isabelle or Ayesha. It's elegant and full of grace."

Baldwin smiled, imagining their children with those names. "I love those names. Our children will bear names worthy of their nobility and strength."

Hours passed, and Baldwin and Xica continued talking about their future, their hopes, and dreams for their children. They imagined their first words, their laughter, and the moments they would share as a family.

"Baldwin, it doesn't matter how much time we have together. What matters is that each moment is filled with love and happiness," Xica said, snuggling closer to him.

"You're right, Xica. Each day with you is a gift, and I promise to make every moment count," Baldwin replied, kissing her forehead tenderly.

As Baldwin fell asleep, Xica stayed awake for a while, her thoughts filled with love and concern. She watched her husband, observing the internal battle he fought against his illness. Her heart swelled with a deep desire to protect him and care for their future family.

"I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, Baldwin. Our children will grow up with a brave and loving father," she murmured in the darkness, feeling the strength of her determination.

Finally, Xica closed her eyes, letting the tranquility of the night take her. As she slept, she dreamed of a bright future, where their children ran and laughed in the palace gardens, with Baldwin by her side, smiling and full of life.

That night, the worries and fears faded away, replaced by a profound hope and the certainty that, together, they could face any challenge.

[doyouknowthisbook-poll]

Do you know which book this is from?

Please reblog the polls, but KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE to make people read the excerpt with an open mind 💖📚 Title and author will be revealed after the poll's conclusion.

Note: Tumblr wouldn’t allow alt text for some reason, so for this poll, the alt text is below the read more.

Edit: The results are up here!

Kilorn will find me anywhere I try to hide, so I keep moving. I sprint like I can outrun what I've done to Gisa, how I've failed Kilorn, how I've destroyed everything. But even I can't outrun the look in my mother's eyes when I brought Gisa to the door. I saw the hopeless shadow cross her face, and I ran before my father wheeled himself into view. I couldn't face them both. I'm a coward.

So I run until I can't think, until every bad memory fades away, until I can only feel the burning in my muscles. I even tell myself the tears on my cheeks are rain.

When I finally slow to catch my breath, I'm outside the village, a few miles down that terrible northern road. Lights filter through the trees around the bend, illuminating an inn, one of the many on the old roads. It's crowded like it is every summer, full of servants and seasonal workers who follow the royal court. They don't live in the Stilts, they don't know my face, so they're easy prey for pickpocketing. I do it every summer, but Kilorn is always with me, smiling into a drink as he watches me work. I don't suppose I'll see his smile for much longer.

A bellow of laughter rises as a few men stumble from the inn, drunk and happy. Their coin purses jingle, heavy with the day's pay. Silver money, for serving, smiling, and bowing to monsters dressed as lords.

I caused so much harm today, so much hurt to the ones I love most. I should turn around and go home, to face everyone with at least some courage. But instead I settle against the shadows of the inn, content to remain in darkness.

I guess causing pain is all I'm good for.

It doesn't take long to fill the pockets of my coat. The drunks filter out every few minutes and I press against them, pasting on a smile to hide my hands. No one notices, no one even cares, when I fade away again. I'm a shadow, and no one remembers shadows.

Midnight comes and goes and still I stand, waiting. The moon overhead is a bright reminder of the time, of how long I've been gone. One last pocket, I tell myself. One more and I'll go. I've been saying it for the past hour.

I don't think when the next patron comes out. His eyes are on the sky, and he doesn't notice me. It's too easy to reach out, too easy to hook a finger around the strings of his coin purse. I should know better by now that nothing here is easy, but the riot and Gisa's hollow eyes have made me foolish with grief.

His hand closes around my wrist, his grip firm and strangely hot as he pulls me forward out of the shadows. I try to resist, to slip away and run, but he's too strong. When he spins, the fire in his eyes puts a fear in me, the same fear I felt this morning. But I welcome any punishment he might summon. I deserve it all.

"Thief," he says, a strange surprise in his voice.

I blink at him, fighting the urge to laugh. I don't even have the strength to protest. "Obviously."

He stares at me, scrutinizing everything from my face to my worn boots. It makes me squirm. After a long moment, he heaves a breath and lets me go.

Stunned, I can only stare at him. When a silver coin spins through the air, I barely have the wits to catch it. A tetrarch. A silver tetrarch worth one whole crown. Far more than any of the stolen pennies in my pockets.

"That should be more than enough to tide you over," he says before I can respond. In the light of the inn, his eyes glint red-gold, the color of warmth.

My years spent sizing people up do not fail me, even now. His black hair is too glossy, his skin too pale to be anything but a servant. But his physique seems more like a woodcutter's, with broad shoulders and strong legs. He's young too, a little older than me, though not nearly as assured of himself as any nineteen or twenty-year-old should be.

I should kiss his boots for letting me go and giving me such a gift, but my curiosity gets the better of me. It always does.

"Why?" The word comes out hard and harsh. After a day like today, how can I be anything else?

The question takes him aback and he shrugs. "You need it more than I do."

I want to throw the coin back in his face, to tell him I can take care of myself, but part of me knows better. Has today taught you nothing? "Thank you," I force out through gritted teeth.

[lunardragon00]

The Heir (Choi San x OC)

Masterlist

Genre: Fantasy , Lord!San x Princess!OC

Words: 5684

Warning: suggestive themes // angst // fluff

Chapter Seven --> Chapter Eight--> Chapter Ten

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔑𝔦𝔫𝔢: 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔰

Lavender, it was a scent Hana had grown quite familiar with recently. Its soothing fragrance enveloped her senses, drifting through the air like a gentle caress as she lay nestled in the warmth of the bed. The soft sheets cocooned her body, cradling her in comfort and tranquility. As morning light filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow upon the room, Hana stirred from her slumber. Her eyelids fluttered open, greeted by the sight of San's adoring gaze already fixed upon her. His smile, warm and tender, melted away the remnants of sleep, filling her heart with a sense of contentment she had never known.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered, his voice a gentle melody that danced through the air and wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. Hana's lips curved into a soft smile in response, her heart fluttering with affection as she reached out to caress his cheek.

"Good morning, indeed," she replied, her voice a soft echo of his own. He leaned towards her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. No words needed to be exchanged, they both knew that in that moment, the others presence was enough. San pulls her body to him, nestling his face into her neck. Their bodies melded together in a seamless embrace, their contours fitting like pieces of a perfect puzzle. His lips brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of tender kisses along the curve of her neck, each touch igniting a spark of desire that flickered between them.  

As the morning sun bathed the room in its golden glow, Hana closed her eyes, savoring the sweetness of their togetherness. With a contented sigh, she buried her fingers in his hair, relishing the sensation of his presence against her skin. Her husband lifts his head back up and places it right beside hers. 

"Did you sleep well?" His voice, soft and soothing, caressed her ears like a gentle breeze, carrying with it the promise of a new day filled with endless possibilities. Hana's heart swelled with gratitude for the man beside her, his presence a balm to her soul.

"Sleep comes to me easier each night I have you beside me," she confessed, her words a testament to the profound impact of his love upon her restless heart. San is quick to press another kiss to her lips before separating once more, leaning his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a moment, simply savoring the peaceful time of morning. 

Hana felt a sense of serenity wash over her. In San's arms, she found solace and security, a haven where she could be herself without fear or inhibition. During her marriage with Wooyoung, she had never felt like this. She loved him, yes, but not the way she was supposed to. To Hana, Wooyoung was her best friend. Someone she can lean on in her darkest hours, but it did not provide the same comfort as when she does it with San. With San, everything truly like it would be ok. There was no worry of it just being a temporary moment of peace. Since their marriage, which had now been a few weeks, she had been caught in a state of bliss that seemed never ending. 

The worries in her life has slowly drifted away. No longer did she have to play pretend with Wooyoung. No longer was there stress as to why she was not with child. No longer did she feel miserable, like a part of her was missing. With him, she could shed the masks she had worn for so long, revealing her true self without fear of judgment or rejection. As they lingered in the quiet stillness of the morning, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of their love, Hana knew that she had found her home in San's embrace—a place where she was cherished, understood, and valued for exactly who she was. 

She thought back to what her father has said to her many years ago, when marriage was first brought up by him. They had a heated argument about her, Hana had been furious when the choice of who she would married had been stripped from her. The words he said she thought were ridiculous at the time. 

"You have been much alone these last few years, alone and angry. I will not live forever. I wish to see you contented, happy even." The King stated, standing aside the long table in the council room. Hana sat at the end, scoffing as she heard her father speak. She had been angry, after discovering her father was planning on marrying her off to Jason Wang. 

The house Wang was notorious for being filled with narcissistic snobs with pockets filled of gold. He had even approached her at a hunt her father threw a month back. Claiming he had already planned building a dragon pit for Noctris and spoke of what their future would be like. It disgusted her. 

"And you think a man will provide that?"  She looked at her father, fire raged in her eyes. 

"No..... a family." He stated. 

Looking back on it, perhaps her father had been right. Hana had thought maybe Wooyoung could start those feelings for her. She had a husband now, shouldn't she start to feel at least some relief? Now looking back, he wasn't what she needed. Hana was glad he was there, but he never would've fulfilled her. But the man laying before her now? He could provide that......he was. 

"You're staring again." San's voice broke through her reverie, his eyes dancing with amusement as he caught her in the act of contemplation. Focusing back to the moment, she had realize she'd been looking into his eyes, finger mindlessly playing with the hair on the back of his neck. Hana's cheeks flushed with a faint blush, her fingers stilling their movement against his skin as she met his gaze.

"I can't help it, you know. You have a way of distracting me." she admitted with a soft laugh, her heart swelling with affection for the man who had captured her heart so completely. San's laughter mingled with hers, a melody of joy and warmth that filled the room with its light. With a playful twinkle in his eye, he reached up to capture her wandering hand in his own, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"I'll consider it a compliment," he replied, his voice low and filled with affection. "I could get lost in your eyes for eternity." Hana's heart fluttered at his words, her breath catching in her throat at the depth of his love for her. In that moment, she felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude for the man who had chosen her, who had given her the gift of his unwavering devotion. Leaning in, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude for the precious moments they shared together. 

San pulls her closer, if that were even possible at this point. With a gentle urgency, Hana held his face in her hands, her touch a silent declaration of her love and longing. The kiss deepened, evolving from tender affection to passionate longing as their lips melded in a symphony of desire. San's hands traced the curves of her body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that danced along her skin. As he shifted their positions, Hana found herself lying beneath him, her heart pounding with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. Their bodies pressed together, the heat of their passion engulfing them in a whirlwind of sensation. Hana's hands moved to wrap around his back, pulling him closer as they surrendered to the intoxicating allure of their shared love.  He separates his lips from hers and moves them down to her neck, peppering quick pecks along the way.  While she would love nothing more than to indulge him in yet another flurry of activities, she still had responsibilities to take care of. 

"Sannie" She softly spoke, the only response she gets is a moan from her husband, feeling him press harder against her. 

"San, we can't" She tried to reason, but San refused to acknowledge her words. Instead, he shifted his attention to go further down her body, littering her with kisses as he does, head disappearing beneath the blanket. Hana giggles, still trying to grab his attention to her words. 

"Were you not satisfied enough from last night?" She asked cheekily, already knowing the answer she'll receive. She feels his lips leave her body before seeing his head pop back up, eyes glaring at her. 

"But my love, how can I resist when you're so irresistibly tempting?" San's voice was filled with playful mischief. Despite her attempts at reasoning, he remained undeterred, his determination to savor every moment of their shared intimacy unwavering. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, San leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered, "You know I can never get enough of you, my dear." His words were laced with a hint of laughter, a playful reminder of the boundless depths of their love and desire. Hana's laughter mingled with his own, the air around them alive with the joy. 

"And I you my darling, but we both know we simply do not have the time. We've already slept in far too late." Hana says, taking hold of his chin to keep him in place. A pout forms on his lips, "You're so cruel." he teased, his voice laced with mock indignation as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her fingertips in a playful gesture of affection. With a tender smile, Hana leaned in to press a gentle kiss to San's lips. 

"Come, my love," she whispered, her voice a soft caress against his skin. "We have duties to attend to." With a sigh of resignation, he nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer, reluctant to leave the warmth of their shared embrace.

"Very well," he replied, his voice filled with a mixture of reluctance and determination. Rising from the bed, he extended a hand to help Hana to her feet. 

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

In the heart of Drake's Landing, the bustling streets teemed with life as merchants hawked their wares and citizens went about their daily routines.  Within the halls of the Red Keep, now rechristened as the King - Kim Hongjoong - held court, his presence commanding the attention of all who gathered in his august presence. Adorned in regal attire that befitted his station, he listened intently as his advisors and lords presented reports and petitions, their voices a symphony of concerns and aspirations.

"Your Grace, reports have reached us of increased bandit activity along the borders of our realm," one of the lords reported, his voice grave with concern. "Many are saying it is the Crab feeder once again. Sire, this must be addressed quickly, for we do not know if the coast can handle such a war again. It has only been a few years." He stated.

"Why is that any of our concern Lord Buckley? The stepstones are not even of importance to the King, nor were they to his father." Lord Heins interrupted. Hongjoong listened as the two men continued to argue, growing tired of the relentless conflict between the two lords. As if sensing the King's growing impatience, the Hand intervened. 

"That is where you are wrong my Lord, the Stepstones do hold importance. They are where we get supplies from the region of Essos. It is an important trading point for Mythria, as Master of Coin I would think you would know better." Seonghwa stated. Heins sat, baffled by the interruption and insult. 

"In all my time being in this council, I have never experienced such....such-" As Heins struggled to form his sentence, a messenger arrived bearing urgent news from the far reaches of the realm. With a sense of anticipation, Hongjoong accepted the missive, his gaze alight with curiosity as he broke the seal and perused its contents. As the young King read its contents, he spoke to his council member. 

"Leave us." It was a short statement, but one that held power. Every man was quick to rise and bow to him before making a haste exit. "Not you Seonghwa." As Seonghwa rose to leave along with them, he stopped in his tracks as Hongjoong addressed him. Once every member left, Hongjoong dragged his hand down his face and gave a loud sigh. 

"Your Grace, I do apologize if I spoke out of -" 

"Oh I do not care, the old bat deserved a good spat." Hongjoong waved off his friends apology. Seonghwa stood by his side, his expression a mixture of concern and understanding. 

"What news do you bring, my King?" he inquired, his voice tinged with the weight of responsibility. Hongjoong sighed heavily, the burden of leadership pressing down upon him like a leaden cloak. He handed him the scroll to his Hand, letting him read its contents himself. Seonghwas eyes scanned the document, reading each word carefully. Once finished, he looked back up to his friend, concern clear in his expression. 

 "Your Grace, the situation in Sunsphinx demands our immediate attention," he began, his voice grave with urgency. "The unrest threatens to escalate into open rebellion, and if left unchecked, it could destabilize the entire region."

"I am aware." He states. Hongjoong's jaw tightened with resolve as he absorbed the gravity of Seonghwa's words. "We cannot allow chaos to take hold in Sunsphinx," he declared, his voice ringing with authority. With a renewed purpose, he stood quickly from his chair and Seonghwa was quick to follow him. 

"Prepare the ravens. We must reach out to our allies and assess the situation on the ground. Our response must be swift and decisive." Seonghwa nodded, "Shall I ask Lord Yunho to pay a visit to them?" Hongjoong contemplated the decision. "Yunho is far too busy making sure things are in order at the Wall. Perhaps I could send Hana to speak to them." Seonghwa stopped him in his tracks. 

"Do you think that to be a good idea your grace?" He asked softly. Hongjoong looked at him with confusion. "My sister was a very good friend to Yeosang, and she was in fact married to Wooyoung. Can you give reason as to why she wouldn't be accepted there?"

"My King, I have been hearing whispers within the court these past few weeks." Seonghwa changes to a soft tone, cautious to any persons lingering in the shadows. "They say the princess gave the order." He said in a hushed tone. Hongjoong jerked back, shocked by the sudden revelation. His expression darkened as Seonghwa's words sank in, the weight of the revelation heavy upon his shoulders. The notion that Hana might have played a role in the unrest in Sunsphinx cut him to the core.

"Are you certain of this?" he asked, his voice strained with disbelief and a hint of betrayal. Seonghwa met his gaze with unwavering resolve, his expression grim but resolute.

"I cannot say for certain, Your Grace," he admitted, his tone laced with regret. "But the rumors grow louder with each passing day." The thought of Hana betraying him and their kingdom was unfathomable, yet the evidence, however circumstantial, gnawed at the edges of his conscience. 

"And to what reason would my sister have to plot such a crime?" he asked. Seonghwa sighed and looked his King in the eyes. "Choi San, my King" Hongjoong's brows furrowed in confusion and concern at Seonghwa's cryptic revelation. The name of his dear friend hung in the air like a heavy shroud, casting a pall of uncertainty over their conversation. 

"Choi San?" Hongjoong repeated, his voice barely above a whisper as he grappled with the implications of Seonghwa's words. "What of him?"

Seonghwa's expression darkened, his features drawn tight with apprehension. "There have been whispers of them, Your Grace," he confessed, his voice heavy with the weight of the truth he bore. "That Hana and San... they were married in secret the night after Wooyoung's death." The air in the chamber grew heavy with tension as Hongjoong absorbed the gravity of Seonghwa's revelation. The revelation of Hana and San's secret marriage reverberated through the chamber, shattering the illusions of trust and loyalty that had once bound their kingdom together. He struggled to reconcile the image of his beloved sister with the woman who had kept such a monumental secret from him, her own brother and king. 

"Why would they keep this from me?" Hongjoong whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. The revelation gnawed at the very foundation of his trust, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty and doubt. Hongjoong felt the tendrils of betrayal coil around his heart, threatening to consume him with the bitterness of their deception. 

"Have them prepare Valarys." He states, "I'm going to pay her a visit." With a heavy heart, Hongjoong turned his gaze to the window. And with every passing moment, he felt the weight of his crown pressing down upon him, a constant reminder of the burdens of kingship. But amidst the turmoil of his emotions, one thing remained clear: he would confront Hana and San, and he would demand answers.

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

In the quiet chambers of Dragonspire, Princess Hana sat with the maester, her brow furrowed in concern as she recounted the troubling symptoms that had plagued her in recent mornings.

"I've been feeling quite ill upon waking," she explained, her voice tinged with a note of apprehension. "Nausea, fatigue... It's been growing more pronounced with each passing day."

The maester, a venerable figure with a kindly demeanor, listened attentively, his weathered features betraying a hint of concern as he took in her words.

"I see," he murmured thoughtfully, his fingers drumming against his chin as he considered her symptoms. "And have you noticed any other changes in your health or routine?" Hana paused, her mind racing as she tried to recall any other pertinent details. 

"I... I've been feeling unusually tired, and my appetite has been rather erratic," she admitted, her voice faltering slightly. "But aside from that, nothing out of the ordinary." The maester nodded, his expression thoughtful as he pondered her words. 

"These symptoms could be indicative of a number of ailments," he mused, his tone carefully measured. "But given the nature of your condition, it would be wise to explore all possible explanations." Hana's heart fluttered with a mixture of hope and apprehension as she awaited the maester's diagnosis, her mind awash with the possibilities that lay before her. 

With a gentle yet methodical approach, the maester began a series of examinations, meticulously documenting her symptoms and conducting various tests to ascertain the root cause of her discomfort. Hana watched anxiously as he worked, her thoughts consumed by a potent mixture of uncertainty and trepidation. After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the maester finally concluded his assessments, his expression inscrutable as he regarded her with a mixture of concern and deliberation.

"It seems," he began, his voice measured yet tinged with gravity, "that your symptoms may be indicative of a particular condition. Although, I do have one more question to ask." Hana's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat as she braced herself for his diagnosis.

"What is it?" she ventured, her voice barely above a whisper as she awaited his response.

The maester hesitated, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he spoke. "Princess Hana," he said, his tone gentle yet firm, "forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable, but...when was the last time you bled?" Hana's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions as she processed the maester's question, the gravity of his inquiry hanging heavy in the air. She searched her thoughts, trying to recall the last instance of her monthly cycle, but the memory seemed elusive, lost amidst the flurry of recent events. Before she could formulate a response, the sudden interruption of the knight's arrival shattered the tense atmosphere, pulling her back to the present moment.

"Apologies Princess, but the King demands and audience with you in the throne room." He states. Hana looked taken aback, questions floated all around her mind. Why was her brother here? Had something happened to him? Are the boys ok? Arya? 

"Please inform His Grace that I shall receive him presently," she instructed, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions churning within her. As the knight departed to relay her message, Hana braced herself for the impending encounter, her thoughts consumed by a whirlwind of uncertainty and determination. Whatever revelations awaited her, she knew that she would face them with courage and resilience, drawing strength from the unwavering resolve that dwelled within her heart.

In the grandeur of Dragonspire's throne room, bathed in the soft glow of flickering torches and the warm hues of the setting sun, Hongjoong stood with an air of solemn determination. His gaze swept across the ornate tapestries adorning the walls, each thread woven with the history and legacy of their ancient house. The rooms doors opened, revealing his sister, a wide smile spread across her face and she saw her brother. 

As Hana entered the throne room, her presence seemed to command the very essence of the space. Clad in a simple yet elegant gown, the fabric draped around her form with an ethereal grace, accentuating the regal bearing that marked her as the Princess of Dragonspire. The stark contrast of the black attire against the opulent surroundings only served to amplify her aura of quiet strength and resolve. Her hair, intricately braided and adorned with delicate jewels, cascaded in waves of ebony silk down her back, and a necklace that adorned her neck, with its twin dragon wings gleaming in the soft light, served as a tangible reminder of her lineage and the legacy she bore as a scion of their ancient house.

"Brother, a lovely surprise seeing you here. Have you come to share news of Arya's--" 

"You married." He interrupted. The words hung heavy in the air, slicing through the delicate fabric of polite conversation with the sharpness of a blade. Hana's expression faltered, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in the depths of her eyes as she absorbed the weight of her brother's accusation. Hongjoong's voice, tinged with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief, reverberated off the walls of the throne room, each syllable laden with the weight of unspoken truths and shattered trust.

"I married," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze steady despite the tumult raging within her heart. "But it was not a decision made lightly, nor without consideration for the consequences." Hongjoong's features hardened, his jaw set with determination as he met her gaze with unwavering resolve. 

"Do you not understand the implications of your actions, Hana?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble that echoed with the authority of kingship. "Your marriage, conducted in secret and without the blessing of our house, has endangered not only your own reputation but the stability of our realm." As the gravity of her brother's words settled over her like a suffocating shroud, Hana felt the weight of her choices pressing down upon her with crushing force. "We were married in the sight of the Old Gods, we held our family's tradition." 

Hongjoong scoffed. "Is that supposed to make it better? You foolish girl, you know not of what you have done." Hana's heart sank at her brother's harsh words, the sting of his disapproval cutting deeper than any blade. She had hoped he would understand, hoped he would see the love and sincerity that had led her to make such a decision. Yet, as she stood before him now, her resolve faltered in the face of his unyielding condemnation.

"Brother, please," she implored, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation. "I never meant to bring harm to our house or our realm."

"Hana, do you not see the chaos you have wrought?" Hongjoong's voice resonated with a potent mixture of anger and disappointment, his gaze piercing through her defenses like a sharpened blade. "Sunsphinx teeters on the brink of rebellion, and all because of your reckless disregard for the consequences of your actions."

Hana's jaw tightened, her own frustration boiling beneath the surface as she struggled to contain the storm of emotions raging within her. "And what of my happiness, Hongjoong?" she shot back, her voice laced with a simmering defiance. "Am I to sacrifice everything I hold dear for the sake of some fleeting notion of stability?"

Hongjoong's expression hardened, his resolve unyielding in the face of her defiance. "Your happiness cannot come at the expense of our realm's stability," he countered, his tone sharp with conviction. "You have a duty to our house, to our people, and you have forsaken it in pursuit of your own selfish desires."

The accusation struck Hana like a physical blow, the weight of her brother's words crushing her beneath their weight. "Selfish desires?" she retorted, her voice trembling with a mixture of indignation and hurt. "For what crime am I being accused, if not for daring to love the one person who has always seen me for who I truly am?"

As their argument raged on, each word spoken between them became a testament to the fractured bond that had once united them. In the grandeur of Dragonspire's throne room, amidst the echoes of their discord, the heavy doors swung open, announcing the arrival of Choi San. His presence, though initially unnoticed amidst the tumultuous exchange, brought with it a palpable shift in the atmosphere—a fragile moment of respite in the storm of their conflict.

With measured steps, San crossed the threshold of the throne room, his expression a mask of calm determination that belied the turmoil brewing within. His gaze, steady and unwavering, fell upon Hana and Hongjoong. 

"Hana," he said, his voice a soothing balm against the tempest of their emotions. "The King is right." His words, though spoken with gentleness, carried the weight of undeniable truth, serving as a stark reminder of the sacrifices they were all forced to make in the name of duty and honor. As the echoes of their conversation lingered in the air, a heavy silence descended upon the throne room, punctuated only by the soft rustle of fabric and the distant echoes of their troubled hearts.

Hana's gaze flickered between her brother and her husband, the weight of their words pressing down upon her like a leaden shroud. The rift between them seemed insurmountable, a gaping chasm that threatened to swallow her whole.

"Is this what it has come to?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Are we to be torn apart by the very love that was meant to bind us together?"

Hongjoong's expression softened, a flicker of regret passing through his eyes as he beheld his sister's anguish. "Hana," he began, his voice laden with the weight of their shared history, "I cannot condone your actions, nor can I ignore the consequences they have wrought upon our house and our realm. What is done is done, we cannot annule the marriage. The marriage has already be consummated, yes?" 

"Yes, it has," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze faltering under the weight of their collective disappointment. The admission hung between them like a specter. Hongjoong's expression softened further, his features etched with a mixture of resignation and lingering affection. "Then we must find a way forward, together," he declared, his voice a steady anchor amidst the tempest of their emotions. 

"We will find a way," she whispered, her voice trembling with the echoes of their reconciliation. "Together, we will weather whatever storms may come." Hongjoong nodded, his expression a silent testament to the depth of his commitment to their family and their realm. 

San offered his wife comfort, holding her to his side. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Kesi zālagon hēnkirī, lo ziry māzigon ilagon naejot ziry" (We will burn together, if it comes down to it.) He states in a hushed tone, the words only for his heart to hear. Hana leaned further into him, wrapping an arm around his waist, copying his hold on her. 

As Hongjoong looked at the couple, he recognized the profound bond that had led them to make the choices they had. With a silent nod of acknowledgment, Hongjoong accepted the complexities of their situation, recognizing that the path forward would be fraught with challenges and uncertainties. "Very well, my council is helping me keep a close eye on this revelation. But...Hana-" Hongjoong takes a few steps forward until he is face to face with his sister. 

"I speak this to you as your brother when I say, I am happy for you." As Hongjoong spoke those words, a sense of relief washed over Hana, her heart buoyed by the unexpected warmth of her brother's acceptance. For in his simple declaration lay the promise of reconciliation, a bridge spanning the divide that had threatened to sunder their familial bond.

"Thank you, brother," she whispered, her voice a soft sigh of gratitude. In that moment, the weight of their shared history seemed to lift, replaced by the gentle embrace of understanding and forgiveness. With a smile of genuine warmth, Hongjoong reached out and clasped his sister's hand, a silent pledge of solidarity that spoke volumes of the unbreakable ties that bound them together. 

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

In the serene confines of their bedroom chambers within Dragonspire, Hana and San found themselves enveloped in a cocoon of quietude, the echoes of their recent tumultuous encounter with Hongjoong lingering in the air like wisps of smoke. The grandeur of their surroundings provided a stark contrast to the intimacy of their shared space, where the flickering candlelight danced upon the walls, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow.

Seated by the window, Hana gazed out at the moonlit vista that stretched beyond the castle walls, her thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions. The weight of their secret marriage bore heavily upon her, the repercussions of their actions casting a long shadow over their future together. Beside her, San stood silently, a stalwart presence amidst the storm of their uncertainty.

"It seems our world has grown even more complicated," Hana murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes reflecting the moon's gentle glow. San's gaze softened as he regarded his wife, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared burdens. "Indeed, my love," he replied, his voice a soothing melody that cut through the silence like a beacon of reassurance. Hana moves towards the bet. As she sat on the edge of their bed, her thoughts still tangled in the aftermath of her confrontation with Hongjoong, San watched her with a mixture of concern and tenderness. Sensing her need for comfort, he approached her quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the plush carpeting of their chambers.

"Hana," he said softly, his voice a gentle caress against the hushed stillness of the room. "I know today has been difficult for you." He sat beside her, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of her emotions.

Hana glanced up at him, her eyes reflecting the weariness that weighed upon her spirit. "I just... I never expected things to turn out like this," she confessed, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

San reached out, gently taking her hand in his own. "I understand, my love," he murmured, his thumb tracing comforting circles against her palm. "But it is as I have said countless times, no matter what challenges we face, we will face them together." A faint smile flickered across Hana's lips, a fragile bloom amidst the shadows that lingered in her heart. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "And I am grateful for that."

In that moment, San knew that words alone would not be enough to ease the burden weighing upon his wife's soul. So, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he reached for the small wooden chest on their bedside table, its contents hidden from view.

"What's this?" Hana asked, curiosity sparking in her eyes as San presented her with the box.

"Open it and see," he replied, his voice tinged with playful anticipation. With cautious fingers, Hana lifted the lid of the box, her breath catching in her throat as she beheld its contents. Inside lay a collection of handcrafted paper cranes, their delicate wings unfolding like whispers of hope in the dim light of their chambers. San smiled as he watched her reaction, his heart swelling with love for the woman who had captured his soul. 

"My mother used to craft them in her free time when I was younger. I made them for you." he confessed, his voice soft with sincerity. "Each one represents a wish for your happiness, my dearest Hana." Tears shimmered in Hana's eyes as she reached for one of the cranes, its paper wings trembling in her grasp. In that simple gesture, she found solace amidst the chaos of their world, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love had the power to illuminate the shadows and mend the broken pieces of their hearts. 

With a soft smile, Hana looked up at San, her eyes shimmering with unspoken gratitude and love. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, her heart swelling with warmth at the thoughtfulness behind his gesture.

San returned her smile, his own heart lightened by the sight of her finding solace in his gift. "You're welcome, my love," he replied, his voice a tender melody that echoed with the depths of his affection for her. As they sat together in the quiet sanctuary of their chambers, surrounded by the gentle rustle of paper wings and the soft glow of candlelight, Hana felt a sense of peace wash over her. In the midst of their turmoil, she found refuge in the simple beauty of San's gesture. 

[mx-lamour]

16 - Darkness

[tw: suicide]

The only sound in Strahd’s quarters was the soft rustle of paper. He sat at the table in his study, glowering down at the book in front of him. The pages might as well be completely black, for all the good they did him. His eyes seemed to cloud over while he read. The lack of focus was becoming increasingly difficult to shake off.

Strahd needed that focus, now more than ever. He strained to hold onto it until he became dizzy with the effort, and still, when he turned to the next page, he could remember nothing from the one that came before it. There must be some spell to help him. Nothing else had worked. Time was running out.

Tatyana would be wed tomorrow. She would be lost to him. Oh, he could ask the happy couple to stay with him in Castle Ravenloft, and surely they would, but would that be any better—every day observing her light, unable to stand within it? The alternative was to watch her ride away from him, perhaps never to return.

Sergei should have stayed a priest. It was his duty, by birth; all he had worked for and was meant to achieve. Did none of that matter?

Tatyana could yet be his. Strahd was lord and master here. He could draw upon that power to drive the two of them apart and claim the girl for his own. He could use force, if not reason, as he had done so many times to reclaim this land…

But what would be the point? If she would not give it willingly, it would hardly be her love that he would receive. Her fear, her subservience—that, she might give him, but never her love.

Strahd’s hand drifted over the page in front of him. He closed the book. The sun had gone down. The shadows were deep. He sat back in his chair, limbs heavy, heart slow.

No voices filtered through the darkness. There was nothing there to fill the void, neither in the drafty room nor Strahd’s own aching heart.

He could not put words to the torment brewing within the cavern of his skull. To attempt it would be even more unbearable. What would it change, if he did? Forty-five long years were already behind him. Lost, because he had not been able to see the alternatives that might have once been possible. Now, it was too late.

Strahd’s head hung low. His eyes fell slowly to the dagger at his waist. He reached across his body and unsheathed it, tipping the blade up in front of his face. Strahd examined the edge of it, dully glinting in what little light still filtered in from the stars outside or torches in the hall. Light which didn’t quite reach him.

If death would take him one day anyway, Strahd would at least go on his own terms.

. . .

Before Alek’s patrol came to an end, he looked in on Strahd’s quarters. The rooms were dark, so he surmised Strahd must be sleeping. Good. Alek had seen how tense Strahd was leading up to the wedding. He knew how often the man remained awake, late at night, hunched over his books. Strahd would do well to rest before the ceremony.

He was about to close the door again, but something made him hesitate. There was a chill in the air that didn’t feel right. Cautiously alert, Alek scanned the room again, peering deeper into the shadows.

There—the form of a man, slouched in a chair. He could have passed out at his work, Alek reasoned, but there was still something off about the figure. If Strahd was going to sleep, he should do so in his bed, or he would have one hell of a crick in his neck come morning. Alek would wake him. He pulled a torch from its sconce on the wall.

The flickering light illuminated the scene within. It did not take long.

Strahd’s arms hung limp at his sides. His dagger lay on the floor, having slipped from his fingers, amid thick splotches of blood. His head lolled back at an angle, mouth slightly agape, eyes open. Alek met the blind gaze, only to find it empty of its soul. He had seen that same look a hundred thousand times… but never in this determined face.

Alek nearly dropped the torch. It might have set the rug on fire.

He reached out and pressed his fingers to the side of Strahd’s throat, under his jaw. He didn’t know what he expected to find. There was no pulse.

“Strahd,” Alek whispered.

No answer.

Someone must have done this. Who? It would have to be someone already in the castle. Someone they trusted. How else could they have gotten so close? There was no other trail, no tracks of mud nor blood. The assassin must not have been injured. They had taken Strahd unaware, if he hadn't even had the chance to fight back.

Alek took a long look at the strong cut across Strahd’s throat. He went to fetch Ilona himself.

. . .

“Why isn’t it working?” Alek asked, when the glow of the cleric’s magic began to fade from her hands.

Ilona’s expression was grave. She looked almost frail, standing there over the blood-drenched front of Strahd’s body in her nightdress, her long gray hair undone. “I can extend my hand, but the soul must be willing to take hold.”

Alek frowned. His lip curled. “What are you saying?”

Ilona turned her face to him, so he could read the full extent of her grief. She touched his arm gently.

“No.” Alek gripped her arm in turn. He shoved her forcefully back toward Strahd. “Try again.”

“There is only so much—”

Alek held her in place. “Try. Again.”

. . .

Ilona touched the body one last time, to stave off its decay. “This is all I can do for him now. I am truly sorry, Alek. I wish there were something more, but Strahd is unreachable.” She sighed. Ilona had long known Ravenia, Strahd's mother, and so had known Strahd himself since he was a child. “If you will stand vigil with him," she told Alek, "I will give the news to his brother in the morning.”

Alek murmured, “Where else would I go?”

Ilona pursed her lips. Her own eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “I know how much he meant to you,” she said quietly.

Alek nodded minutely. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Ilona retreated gracefully, to prepare for the funeral to come.

Then there was only Alek, and the man to whom he had dedicated eighteen years of his life. It should have been more. Many more. He lifted Strahd’s body, in its gentle repose, almost as though he truly were sleeping, and carried it into Strahd’s bedroom. He laid the body down on the luxurious bedding, fussing over the way his clothing tucked and wrinkled around him. He touched the underside of Strahd’s wrist again, just to be sure.

“You should have let…” Alek squared his jaw, looked away. "I would've..." When he gathered himself again, he said, “I should have known.”

Alek had walked into Strahd’s quarters unannounced on numerous occasions. He had stumbled in after long journeys and settled himself by Strahd’s hearth, unbidden and hardly admonished. He had a habit of invading Strahd’s space. Apparently, not enough. Now he climbed onto Strahd’s bed and settled himself, scabbard and boots and all, on his side next to Strahd’s eerily still form. Gingerly, he touched Strahd’s cheek with the back of his finger.

Alek’s breathing became ragged as he continued to look on the man he undoubtedly loved. He held his ground for as long as he could, but soon enough the tears spilled over, pooling gracelessly on the side of his nose and dripping sideways down onto the blankets.

Alone in the night, he leaned his forehead against Strahd’s cold shoulder, and wept.

* * *

[Ao3 Collection]

[prompt list by @syrips]

[darkdevasofdestruction]

hiii im not sure if u still write for death mark, but i found ur fic for yashiki and mashita’s reaction for their s/o waking them up to breakfast in bed and was wondering if u would write the same reaction but for daimon instead. if u cant thats fine!! also ur writing is very nice and cute!!

It was early morning, and the faint light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. Shuuji, the ever sleep-deprived doctor with awful bed side manners, lay sprawled on the bed, his breathing steady and deep. Long hours and overwork, extra shifts had all come together to knock down the already sickly man. Just as he thought he was doing better, he reverted back to his mess of a lifestyle. Normally, he would be awake by now, to get ready for work - Thankfully, he earned a few days off to recuperate after everything.

You carefully slipped out of bed, determined to surprise him with something special. Shuuji’s lifestyle meant he often skipped meals or relied on the most basic, unhealthy food he could find - And only lord knows, doctors and vending machines or convenience stores are soulmates. You wanted to change that, at least for one morning. You tiptoed into the kitchen, hoping to create a breakfast that would show him just how much you cared - And how much you wanted him to live for a few more years by your side, at least.

The kitchen came alive with the sounds of breakfast preparations. You brewed a pot of coffee, its rich aroma filling the air - Yet this time, it wasn't straight black as he always drinks to ruin his stomach and get gastritis; You blended it with a mix of milk and honey to make it easier and smoother for his system.

You then cooked some scrambled eggs with cheese making sure to use a single drop of oil so it wouldn't make the meal too greasy and make him nauseous; With some fresh cherry tomatoes and cucumbers, the grease should be cut nicely, along with some nice and toasty sliced bread. La piece de resistance was a nice and sweet orange juice, freshly squeezed and mixed with honey, the perfect energiser.

Seeing everything neatly arranged on the colourful plates, so nice and cute, you picked up the tray and entered the room - A light meal for your scrawny and sickly darling doctor who can take care of everyone except for himself. Any more than that and he'd feel overwhelmed and run away from breakfast - As he usually does.

Shuuji was still fast asleep, his face relaxed and peaceful - It wasn't easy for him to get many restful nights in between his Death Mark nightmares and job overwork. You placed the tray on the nightstand and leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Good morning, my love.” you whispered softly.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at you with a mix of confusion. “Morning already?” he mumbled, still half-asleep. "Have I even slept alone?"

You smiled warmly and gestured to the tray. “Enjoy breakfast - For once." you hummed in amusement, watching as the man was slowly blinking his sleepy spell away.

Shuuji blinked a few times, taking in the sight of his lovely significant other being no kind to him, and then of the tray filled with delicious food. A sleepy half-smile crept onto his face, and he let out a breathless chuckle. “You didn’t have to do all this.” he said, his groggy voice filled with gratitude. "I guess I'll choose food over sleep for once."

“I know, difficult choice, isn't it?” you grinned, cuddling into his side. “You work so hard and take care of everyone else. Let me at least take care of you today.”

Shuuji’s apathetic visage softened as he looked at you, his eyes reflecting a rare vulnerability, a once in a blue moon chance when he'd allow someone else to pamper him like this. He reached out and placed a small kiss on your cheek. “Thanks, Y/N.” he murmured, his voice as sincere as always.

You helped him sit up, arranging the pillows behind him so he could lean back comfortably. He picked up the coffee first, savoring the warmth and aroma before taking a sip. “Your coffee is always the best.” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a look of appreciation. "Hospital stuff is more like sewer water."

You watched as he started to eat, the tension in his shoulders gradually easing. It was a rare moment of relaxation for him, and you could see how much he needed it. You stayed by his side, sharing the meal and chatting about little things, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other’s company. The gentle light peering through the window was caressing his pale skin in a way that he didn't look deathly sick anymore; In fact, he seemed to have life surging through his veins.

As he finished the last bite, Shuuji set the tray aside and pulled you into his arms. “You spoil me, Y/N.” he teased, but there was a deep affection in his voice.

“You deserve it, my love.” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder. “And I love seeing you happy. - And a little less tired than usual.”

For a moment, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift, and Shuuji allowed himself to fully embrace the warmth of the moment. He held you close, cherishing the peace and the love you brought into his life. “I'm so lucky to have you in my life.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The nightmares of the Mark were left behind, the horror of Konoehara dissipated, and all that remained was his deep affections for you.

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with love. “I love you too, Shu-chi.” he might not outright say how much he loves you, but he has many other ways to go around and express his feelings. It was fine though, you knew very well how much he loved you.

The morning passed in a blissful haze, the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms for a full day of resting and enjoying each other's presence - A reminder of what truly mattered, a source of strength that kept them going even on the toughest days.

In that quiet, intimate moment, the world outside seemed to fade away and all that remained was the love you shared, a bond that grew stronger with every passing day; an emotion that transcended past any hardship or supernatural tragedy.

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 12: a wreck when I'm without you

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

More of a filter chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy!

The morning had been so hectic for Aenys, from rehearsing his speech, to getting ready, making sure the children were also ready, he barely had a moment to breathe. He could see Alyssa was also overwhelmed, but she tried to comfort him with a smile. It didn’t help much. Between the several servants getting him dressed into his regal coronation robes, the back and forth of getting baby Viserys to stop crying, he noticed Maegor walk in.

“Everything is ready. They’re waiting for you.” he said formally.

Aenys noticed him squinting at the chaos in the room, but he said nothing more before turning around and leaving. He was clearly not pleased, but he did appear to walk with eagerness, something he never saw his brother do, ever. Perhaps it was a sign for him to relax, if Maegor of all people seemed, dare he say, excited?

The ceremony was grand, the throne room being full of lords and ladies, all here to swear to him as their King. The crowd parted so that he and his family walked in, making their way to the throne. On the base of it stood the now dowager Queen, his aunt, who had that unreadable expression that scared him. His brother stood next to her with that same haunting expression his mother had. His goodsister by his side was the only one who gave him a small smile, as if sensing his worries. 

He approached the throne, Alyssa guiding their children to the side. For a brief second Aenys froze while looking at the throne. He first sat atop the throne as a babe, in his father’s arms. He thought this day wouldn’t come for many, many years. His father was supposed to reign until his old age, his sudden death shocking him to the core. His coronation was a huge affair, but he was not in the headspace to enjoy it, or to truly process what it all meant. He slowly started climbing the stairs. The throne he grew up on went from familiar to intimidating, sharper, scary even. The cape of red velvet draped over his shoulders suddenly felt like it weighed him down, suffocating him around the neck. The golden ornate crown on his head was heavy, too heavy for him to bear. He wasn’t ready, he couldn’t do this without his father. But he had to. His wife and children were watching him, his aunt’s cold stare was on his back, thousands of eyes waiting. Finally he turned around to face them all.

“King Aenys of house Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm” proclaimed the High Septon in a loud, booming voice, causing the crowd to erupt.

“Long live the King! Long live our King!” he could hear them cheer.

He breathed. This relieved him greatly. The lords and ladies loved him, just as they did his father. He would not let them down. He would show them he was a worthy King. What choice did he truly have?

Seeing her again was like finally coming up for air after he was drowning. She stood amidst her cousins as her uncle, the head of their house, swore to the new King. Gods be good, had it truly been almost a year? She looked as beautiful as ever. He missed her so much.

Her absence was one he could not escape, not that he ever wanted to. He wanted to talk to her, the only person who could understand him to his core, who would understand the turmoil he was in about the chaos this past moon. He felt like all his anger would explode if he didn’t speak to her, for at least a little bit. He wondered, did she also dream of him? Did he also haunt her every thought, the way she haunted his? Did she know how much he wanted to leap into her arms and cry under the desk the way he did when they were eight? He missed her voice.

With the lineup finally coming to an end, people were ushered outside for the feast, Maegor tried to look for her in the crowd, but it seemed she and her cousins already made their way to the gardens. Aenys walked toward them all, picking up his youngest son. Viserys. It soured his tongue to even think about saying it. All three children were named after the three conquerors, to honour them. But it was the name of his mother, the name he wanted to use for his own heir. The heir that was yet to make an appearance despite his efforts. Ceryse was also disappointed whenever he came to visit her in the night and she had to tell him that her moonblood had come. Again. 

He was told by the Grandmaester that it takes moons, sometimes even years to conceive and to be patient. Ah yes, his best quality. His serene patience. He had to admit he was getting frustrated. He longed for fatherhood, and for his half-brother it had come so easily, why not him? He tried not to blame his wife. Tried. It was a business deal between them, and both were getting nervous. Part of him was glad. Seeing her pregnant would send him into melancholy, not to mention how he would ever face Rowan again. It would hurt her deeply, he knew, just as it would hurt him. But it was necessary for the throne.

The royal family joined everyone in the gardens, mingling with the crowds before food was served. Aenys and Alyssa thrived in events like these, while Maegor didn’t enjoy the polite chats. His mother was not opposed to them, especially if the company was good. His mother gave him a slight look. He knew where she wanted to go. He’d be damned if he didn’t take this chance to get close to her again.

He followed his mother to where the Evergreens stood, Ceryse following as well, like a proper wife would. He hoped she wouldn’t but he knew it would look bad in front of her uncle and family. His mother’s presence was felt, the chatter amongst them dying when they turned to face them. 

“Your grace, we extend our deepest condolences for your loss.” Lucas Evergreen spoke first.

His mother nodded at his words. She looked at the family in front of her with a faint smile.

“Thank you, Lord Evergreen. You are most kind. Lord Duncan, may we speak for a moment?” she asked.

Lord Duncan nodded and followed his mother to the side, far from earshot. From what he could see, she was confiding in him something personal. His mother was not trusting of many people, save for a select few, the red haired man next to her being one.

Maegor turned his attention to the family in front of him.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, my Prince. I cannot imagine.” she said, her melancholic green eyes were on him. 

But oh, you know. You’ve always known me and how I am, like no one else.

His sweet girl, there she was. She was formal, way too formal for his liking. Hands clasped in front of her ever so properly, her curly hair in a braid. He wanted to reach out to her, to ask her to hold him.

“Thank you.” was all he could muster to say.

“Will you and your father remain at King's Landing?” Ceryse’s voice almost startled him, he had to stiffen to avoid looking surprised.

“I think we shall know soon.” Rowan smiled slightly, turning to look at her father and his mother who were still deep in conversation.

Maegor tried to not grimace. They were friends, he had to remember that. It didn’t mean he had to like it. He felt possessive over Rowan, not even wanting Ceryse to talk to her, as ridiculous as it was to feel this way. But what could he say? He could only stand there, completely still while his wife asked her to join her for tea. 

“Is it true you claimed Balerion?” the polite conversation was interrupted by the voice of little Archie, who was looking up at him in awe.

He hesitated for a second before nodding. He hadn’t spent much time with Rowan’s family, but five- well, now six year old Archie was attached to her side, he got to follow them around back when he and his mother visited the Evergreen manor. He was a shy boy at first, barely speaking to him, preferring to instead eye him from the safety of hiding behind Rowan’s dress. Rowan had told him that the two youngest boys loved to read about dragons and they might annoy him about them if they got over their shyness. Lewis had asked him a few things, but Archie was too shy to do so. It seemed the change of scenery gave him some bravery, making him smile a bit. He had a chance to show off in front of his love.

“It’s true. I did.” he said, standing tall.

His positive response gave little Archie more confidence to continue.

“What was it like?” he asked, eyes full of wonder.

Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder, silently urging her youngest cousin to be mindful of the questions he wanted to ask. Oh, his sweet girl, was she worried it was a sore topic? He wished to cup her face and tell her not to worry, to tell her in detail how incredible it was, to invite her to fly with him.

“Unlike anything else. It’s unreal.” he answered with pride.

“Really?” Lewis finally joined in. “And did you get to fly over the clouds?” 

“I did.” he gave a smile. “Clouds feel soft, if that’s what you wish to ask next.” he said, his eyes moving to Rowan for a split second, silently offering to take her to feel for herself.

“Could you fly to the moon?” Archie asked again excitedly.

“Now boys, let’s not pester the Prince.” Lady Maura’s voice was a comforting but also commanding one, which he guessed was necessary with raising four sons.

“I do not mind. It’s too high up to reach, even with Balerion.” he nodded.

Everyone seemed to relax a bit more while Maegor made pleasant conversation with the two youngest Evergreens, occasionally stealing tiny glances of his love, who was still catching up with his wife. His mother and Lord Duncan returned soon after, and she urged them to return to Aenys’ side soon. He stole one final glance, not missing the fact that Erin grabbed Rowan’s hand, perhaps for comfort. His love was hurting too.

The sept was quiet at this hour. Rowan’s father was showing her cousins around the city and she found a moment of silence from the noisy unfinished castle. With so many lords and ladies coming to swear to the King, it was a bit overwhelming to be around so many people. She knelt in front of the statue of the mother, where she visited the most. She prayed to all of the faces of the god, but something about being in front of the mother was especially comforting. 

In hearing of the death of Maegor’s father, she could recall the days leading up to her own mother’s death vividly. She prayed to the mother for mercy upon all, for health, for comfort. And now she was lighting candles and praying for the mother to lift the pain in Maegor’s heart. Losing her mother was like part of her was ripped off, she knew he was feeling something to that effect, despite how much he hated him, she knew how much he craved his approval and affection. She wished she could help, to hold him in her arms again. But now all she could do was pray the mother would.

She felt someone kneel next to her but didn’t look up right away, finishing her prayer instead. She only lifted her gaze when she felt a pair of eyes on her, the eyes of Ceryse, who seemed relieved to see her.

“I’m happy to find you here.” she whispered, giving her a smile.

“Yes, I needed a moment of prayer.” Rowan said, her hands still clasped.

“Me too. I find myself here more and more lately.” she admitted, looking up to the mother. “You lost your mother as well…” she started.

“Yes.” she followed suit, her eyes travelling to the statue as well.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but does it ever get easier?” she asked, turning her gaze to Rowan.

She paused at the question. Ceryse had lost her mother two years ago, she lost hers eleven years ago. But she couldn’t say she ever got over it, not entirely.

“Easier… I suppose. It hurts me still, I think of her all the time, but I’ve learned to make space for that pain, I got used to it. It doesn’t stop me from feeling happy at least.” she finally said after a moment of thinking. 

Ceryse nodded, her lips forming a small smile but her eyes betraying sadness. Silence fell inside the sept again, both women deep in thought, deep in prayer. She wondered what the Lady Hightower was praying for. She didn’t feel it was her place to ask, but away from the curious eyes of court, she let her guard down in front of the gods, thus revealing how troubled she looked and felt. Something was worrying her.

“Are things alright in court, Ceryse?” she whispered, pulling the woman with the golden hair back to reality.

Ceryse hesitated. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t, instead turning around to scan the sept. After seeing it was completely empty, she turned to the candles in front of them. 

“It would appear I do not have much company… nor much favour with my goodmother.” she finally admitted. “I do not know what I’ve done to displease her, but both she and Maegor expect a child soon and it seems I’m having problems with fulfilling that. I fear I might displease them even more.”

Rowan grimaced, saddened at how Visenya was treating Ceryse. She was jealous, she could not lie. Truly, what she’d give to be in her position instead, but that only made her guilt sink in deeper. It was a well kept secret that only Visenya, Maegor and herself knew of, but treating Ceryse this way over something she had no control over? The thought killed her, but this was her friend. She’d pray the mother would bless her with a child.

“I know the dowager Queen is quite private. I’m sure it is nothing you have done, perhaps she just needs a chance to get to know you better.” Rowan said, placing a hand over her friend’s for comfort. “My father will stay in court for a few moons, so will I.” 

“Thank you. I’m glad to hear you’ll be staying.” Ceryse gave a sad smile. “I don’t know, times like these, I just wish I had my mother with me, you know?”

“Believe me, I know.” she said with a sad chuckle. “I wish she were here all the time, when I’m happy to share that joy with me, when I’m sad so she can guide me though it all, always.”

Another moment passed in silence.

“Would you join Lana and I for tea? I’m supposed to meet her now.” Ceryse asked.

“I’d love to.” she smiled.

Both women rose to their feet, Ceryse took a moment to hold Rowan’s hand.

“Thank you. Truly.” she said, squeezing her hand before leading her through the booming city all the way to the gardens of the keep.

Rowan was smiling, but her heart weighed heavily. She felt responsible for Maegor and Visenya’s treatment of her friend. She felt guilty for her envy, hating how it made its way into all her thoughts. Even when they were exchanging pleasantries, sudden thoughts of Maegor’s hands all over Ceryse or of them happy together as a family plagued her. She had to shake her head free of them. He was never hers. It was not her place to be this jealous over her friend’s husband. It felt sinful to do so. Ceryse had done nothing wrong. She would make a lovely mother and Maegor a lovely father and Rowan would eventually marry, hopefully somewhere where she’d never have to face either of them again, far, far away.

She wished to avoid speaking to Maegor, as it only hurt them both even more, but she wished to speak to Visenya. She never wanted to scold her, but she was frustrated at her. She also knew Ceryse did not want this, why make her life more miserable? Rowan wanted to help make things easier for at least one person in this misery.

“My parents tried for two years before they got my brother, you’ll be fine.” Lana reassured Ceryse, picking up a slice of lemon cake.

“Yes, things like this can take time. I’ll pray to the mother for her to bless you.” Rowan added, licking the honey residue after stirring it in her cup.

“Thank you two, really.” Ceryse seemed more relaxed. “Let’s please speak of something lighter now.” 

“Well, I seem to have caught the eye of a certain lord of the Vale.” Lana smiled mischievously. 

“Oh?” Rowan asked in amusement. “And? What are you thinking about doing?” 

“Well, I don’t know how much I’ll enjoy living in the Vale, buuuuut… he is quite handsome. So I might just compromise.” she said, taking a bite of the cake.

“Just because he’s handsome?” Ceryse laughed.

“Well, the position of the Lady of the Vale is a lucrative one, despite the gloomy weather and depressing scenery. So while it’s not the most effective way to choose a husband, if he’s handsome, my eyes can rest a bit.” she laughed along. 

Rowan joined in the laughter. She missed the lighthearted conversations the three would have in the past when they met by chance, so these intentional meetings were more than welcome. She was happy to see them again. Lana seemed happy, much happier than her and Ceryse anyway. At least one of them was.

“What about you, Rowan?” the playful brunette asked.

“What about me?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Has any handsome lord caught your eye?” Lana asked, giving her a suggestive smile.

Rowan suddenly tensed. She was a terrible liar, she hoped she wouldn’t raise suspicion.

“Not yet. I still wish to wait a bit before settling down.” she answered as honestly as she could muster. It wasn’t a complete lie.

“You’re far more patient than I, I’ll tell you that.” Lana laughed. “Have I told you two what I heard about that Tully squire?”

“What has he done now?” Ceryse asked in amusement.

“Wait, wait, now? Why? What has he done before?” Rowan protested, taking a bite of lemon cake, leaning in closer.

“Ohhhh, I haven’t told you! For starters, he was seen around the stables quite late at night.”

“Well… he is a squire, is it not his job?”

“But he was not alone. I heard a certain lady was with him.” Lana added. “Remember Eleanor? Lord Stokeworth’s daughter?”

“I do! But you’re sure? Where did you hear it from?” Rowan asked.

“The kitchen maids are very talkative.” Ceryse added with a smile. “So what did he do now?”

“Well, Lady Eleanor seemed to have caught the eye of his older brother, when they came to swear to King Aenys. He followed her to the stables and caught their rendezvous, threatening to tell their fathers if they did not stop. I suppose he was hoping she was visiting him instead.” Lana added, sipping her tea slowly.

“How dangerous, to keep visiting him in the night. Is she not aware of the rumours?” Rowan asked, concerned. “I heard Lord Stoeworth is not a kind man.” 

“He is most unpleasant. But Eleanor would be the one to know how much she could push things before he caught wind of it all. I also heard she visited the maester for some tea.” Lana added, giving them a knowing look.

Ceryse and Rowan let out a gasp at the gossip. Lana, in turn, laughed at them.

“Gods, you two are such prudes at times!” she cackled. “They’re two people in love!”

“Doing something stupid.” Ceryse laughed.

“Not to mention dangerous.” Rowan added.

“Lady Evergreen.” 

The three women rose immediately at the sound of the dowager Queen’s voice.

“Your grace?” she asked, not wanting to appear too comfortable with her.

“Your lord father is looking for you. Come.” she said, before turning away.

She didn’t even give her a chance to speak before walking back to the keep. Rowan apologised to Ceryse and Lana, excusing herself, before trailing behind Visenya. She looked back at her friends, giving them an apologetic look. They didn’t appear too surprised, she could hear Ceryse explaining to Lana of her father’s council of the Queen and how he involved her sometimes too. But what was the reason her father was looking for her? She had told him where she would be and he was supposed to give their family a tour of the city.

She recognised where Visenya was leading her to and realised her father was not looking for her at all. She was just looking for an excuse to speak to her without raising much suspicion. In truth, despite her frustrations, Rowan had missed her dearly. Visenya closed the door of her drawing room with a sigh of relief.

“Forgive my interruption, it’s just that I had no other time to find you. Aenys has been keeping me quite busy.” she said, taking a breath.

She looked so regal, despite being so overwhelmed with grief. She thought of her at Dragonstone, all alone, having to deal with all her pain, while making plans for her nephew to ascend the throne. It must’ve been so overwhelming. Rowan approached her, embracing her without a word. Visenya relaxed in her arms, sighing and pulling her closer. She didn’t speak, she did not have to. 

She had so much to tell her, so much to ask her. But for now, they could just be. 

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[braveryinblue]

He sees the whelp in the halls, sometimes. It's unavoidable – they're in the same house, after all. They attend many of the same classes, though the whelp has rather a larger social circle than Raven does, and he suspects it's enough that he has been able to slip by the whelp's attention unnoticed.

For the better, he thinks. He still cannot quite control the rage that comes over him at the sight of Hector of Ostia, the blood filter which tints everything in view when he sees the lummock stomping around, laughing and cavorting as though the world hadn't burned to the ground all those years ago.

He gets his practice in, though. Inoculating himself to the whelp's presence in small doses. He'll pass behind the whelp as he eats in the dining hall, slipping out as the other is coming in and holding his breath to mask the fact that his heart is hammering wildly in his chest, that his limbs tremble in fury.

Or he'll stop by the training hall when he knows the whelp is there, going through his paces with the dummies in a far corner, watching from the corner of his eyes. It would be so easy, he thinks. The blade is in my hand, the fool is distracted, he could bleed out before he realized...

It is with herculean effort that he stays his hand.

There are days, of course, when a force overcomes him, so brutally incoherent in his rage that he does not understand what is happening until quite the last moment and he is able to course-correct, to tamp his anger for another time.

This is not one of those times.

Coming out of the library, he sees the sheen of blue-black hair walking in the same hallway, the same tight quarters, and in his brusqueness to walk by his shoulder finds the other's, spraying the air with whatever sheaf of paperwork he was carrying.

"Oh, my lord!" His tone is all polish, falseness creasing his expression. "I must apologize. I fear I was not paying attention to where I was going. Here, let me help you."

Kneeling, Raven helped the Ostian whelp gather his belongings, piling a stack of paperwork neatly together before handing it over, his smile a knife. "There we are, good as new. By the way, my lord, I'd like to wish you the best of luck on the field during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion."

Sometimes, Hector feels a tingle at the nape of his neck. It's not an unfamiliar feeling by any means, no,

but is it just his imagination, or is it getting to be a bloody common occurrence of late?

Well. Whatever.

If someone's got a problem with him, they have but to speak up. (... It does, however, somewhat soothe his nerves knowing he's got Matthew (and Serra... to an extent) watching his back.)

Really, it's just another day for Ostian's young, yet-ignorant marquess. Lots to learn, can't please everybody, and so on.

Hector isn't even thinking about any of that when his materials are knocked from his arms. Rather, he'd been contemplating today's dinner, followed by this eve's proposed training regiment. All such thoughts dissipate like so much smoke as he pauses, debating between a tact indignant or vaguely apologetic.

The other beats him to the punch.

Lightly furrowed brow is the compromise he settles on as he turns to study the man.

"... No harm done," he notes, neutral, as he too stoops to gather his things. There's something about this he can't put his finger on. If there's any of his abilities Hector's ever trusted in, it's his instincts.

He feels as though he's seen this bloke before. Maybe out in the training hall, or the dining area... Around, anyroad.

"... Yeah, you too. Might just be the Lions' year."

He can't help the uncomfortable pit in his stomach. The man's been naught but polite and yet...

Whatever the case, what is for sure is that Hector will be paying Raven a little closer attention from now on. With but a nod, he goes on his way.

[inksandpensblog]

Sticktober 2022 Day 2: Power

"How in the- was that you?!" "...yes. It was." "What did- everything's frozen! Hahah, literally and figuratively!" "...yes." "Wow, looks like we're the only ones it didn't affect. Even the rest of them are- ahh-" "...oh." "Maaaybe we should get out of here, I don't wanna get caught in that lag."

"Agreed."

—

“I didn't even know you could do that."

Chosen One kept his eyes ahead as they soared through the portal, letting Dark Lord's awed tone filter into his awareness.

"I haven't often," he replied, by way of explanation. "That's my first time since escaping."

He heard the lord scoff at the reminder of their creator, before his voice, still projecting through the portal, took on a more sympathetic air. "Wow, so really not often, huh? Why not? It seems cool." He heard a chuckle. "Heh, excuse me, I mean it seems useful. Effective."

"It was. I froze Firefox when it retaliated against me." "Whoa." In his peripheral, he caught sight of the lord drawing up alongside him. "Why didn't you do that when I sent it after you?"

"...I don't know."

"Just didn't think of it?" The lord soared lower, taking advantage of the open space to twist in the current and look up at his companion. "I get it, I think. You have so many other abilities, but I've noticed you always seem to default to either fire fists or lazer eyes."

Chosen One pondered this. "...I...don't always choose which one I use. I...know what I want to happen, and...whatever power would make it happen is the one that..."

Dark Lord nodded, though it was a nod of consideration more than understanding. "I guess context might play a part, then," he mused. "I haven't been able to do anything like that earth-shake since we left the computer." His face shifted into a slight glower. "I don't know if that's because the context of that environment lended me an advantage, or because I had a level of control over the environment itself granted to me by the mission." He shrugged, turning to face Chosen One again with a smile. "I want to see if you can do that back at the base! Without a computer or a website or a game to structure the area, who knows what abilities we can exercise!"

Chosen One nodded. It would be good to know.

The lord smiled, finally turning over to face forward once more.

.

.

It was true that his intention hadn't been to freeze the entire game. Figuratively or literally. But did it matter, when his end goal had been achieved?

He had wanted them to stop. He had wanted to leave.

He had wanted the screaming to end.

He hadn't known how to make any of that happen. He just knew that he wanted it.

He also knew that Dark Lord wouldn't have wanted it to end. Dark Lord had been having fun.

Dark Lord thought Chosen One had been having fun. Chosen One hadn't known how to tell him otherwise.

So he had merely stood, frozen to the spot. Until the game froze around them, ice crystallizing over every surface and panicking NPCs twitching and glitching where they stood, unmoving and silenced. Mostly.

Chosen One clenched his fists, as the portal opening appeared ahead.

So many abilities, yet he still felt powerless to speak up.