#and he vowed his revenge on her for cheating him out of his end of the bargain and swears to her that he will bed her one day

[written-in-flowers]

Toxic Revenge (AegonxReader)

Pairing: Aegon II x plussize!reader

Word Count: 5k

Genre: smut, just pure smut. 

Tags: cheating from both sides, toxic revenge cheating, mentions of infidelity, cunnilingus, thigh worship, thigh job, breast play, nipple play, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, body worship, edging, aegon being a total perv and you’re into it lol 

Summary: You’ve recently learned that rumors about your husband, Aemond’s, infidelity are true, and you’re not happy about it. So, rather than wallow in self-pity, to take a late night visit to his brother’s chambers. 

A/N: got tired of reading cheating fics and the reader doing nothing about it. Lol, also in a super TGC brain rot and horny af lately. Enjoy. 

Part 2: Nameday: The Picnic

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'It pains me to inform you of another matter, my lady, but it is something that weighs heavily on my mind. Prince Aemond has recently been spending his nights with a servant woman in the castle. He has become very enamored with her, favoring her counsel over those of Ser Criston and myself. Twas only last night I caught the prince abed with the woman, tangled like two young lovers-'

You stopped reading the letter. Ser Harrold meant no harm by informing you of your husband's possible infidelity. As a knight, he took vows of honor and nobility. You supposed he wrote this to take a burden of knowledge off his shoulders. You held the scroll in your hands, reading his report from the battlefield once more. A part of you hoped it wasn't true. The thought tore your heart to shreds. You wanted to fool yourself into believing Ser Harrold harbored affection for you, hence why he'd make up such a slanderous lie. But, further proof laid in Aemond letters. You’d stupidly written to him with Ser Harrold’s accusation. You’d hoped he’d clear up the misunderstanding, but he did not. He only confirmed them. 

‘Yes, I’m afraid what Ser Harrold wrote to you is true. It pains me to write this to you. You have made a strong effort for our marriage, but I do not feel the same. I have tried to love you, Y/N. You are a witty, clever, honorable woman, and any man would be lucky to have you. I tried to find some semblance of love for you, and I have, but not in the way you’d hoped. I love Alys. She understands me. She cares for me in a way no other woman has-”

You pushed the memory from your mind. The tears stung in your throat every time you thought about it. 

And it angered you. 

This unfaithfulness shamed your family, his family, and you. Most importantly, you. You and Aemond did not know each other well. Your wedding happened days before he set off to fight in The Riverlands. Yet, you’d believed your short courtship to be pleasant; the beginning of a blossoming romance, you’d thought. When he arrived at Storm's End on Vhagar, intimidating and mysterious, you'd been the most eager of your sisters to wed him. You didn't mind his sapphire eye, his steely stare or soft spoken voice. You liked it. When he chose you out of your sisters, you bordered between anxiousness and excitement. You recalled your heart hammering in your chest when he first spoke to you. You both stood off to the side during a feast, talking low in shadows where you’d have privacy. Nothing inappropriate happened, but you’d hoped the close proximity and slight intimacy might arouse desire in him. He didn’t seem bothered that you weren't the prettiest of your sisters, nor the skinniest. You both talked cordially, and he even laughed at your dumb jokes. Things could have been nice. It could have been good. You’d be a fool to wish for a fairy tale romance, but you’d wanted a genuine connection, at the very least. 

He didn't appear to feel the same. 

You hurled the letter into the nearby fire, watching the parchment curl and blacken in the flames. Images of Aemond holding some sultry, seductive, petite, woman flashed through your mind. You saw him kissing her. You saw him declaring his love for her, and having children with her. She must be special if Aemond Targaryen forsake his wedding vows for her. Hot tears blurred your eyes. What is worse is that you will be blamed for his indiscretion. Everyone will point at you and say nasty things: you're not pretty enough to tempt him or you're not worthy enough to be bedded by a prince or you're barren and therefore useless to anyone. Your worth in the world is decided by men, and they'll decide that you are the problem. Visions of your father, disappointed and shaking his head crossed your mind. It made you weep harder. You couldn’t help hating the woman you saw in the mirror.. 

Because your wide hips, pudgy stomach, thick thighs and arms made you stand out from your sisters, who are all tall and slim. You knew it worked against you with suitors, and you’re often a joke at court, but you take it in stride. You don’t give the laughter any satisfaction, and you used your wits to get your revenge. Having handsome, strong, tall Prince Aemond on your arm made you feel special; you felt being his wife meant you weren’t so ugly after all. Yet, now reading that Aemond entangled himself with another woman, made you rethink that entire narrative. He’d picked you because your father constantly pushed you on him, and he needed an alliance with House Baratheon. At least if he was unfaithful, people wouldn’t question why. 

Aemond is allowed to cavort around with however many women he likes. You, on the other hand, are not afforded the same privilege. Should the roles be reversed, you'd be vilified. You could not stand the unfairness. Aemond could have his fun, but not you? He was allowed to break his vows, but not you? When you’d been the dutiful wife, waiting for his return and to begin a true marriage? No. You won't let him get away with it. You'd show him. You'd show him that just because he doesn’t find you attractive doesn’t mean others don’t. And you knew exactly how to hurt that inflated ego of his. 

"Ada," you called to your handmaiden, wiping your cheeks and standing straight, "Fetch me a bath. Sprinkle some jasmine in there. I do love the scent.” 

Ada and another handmaiden briskly acquired a hot bath, the water smelling of fine jasmine flowers and soothing to your skin. You ran the same oil through your hair, letting it loose instead of in the usual braids. You’d remembered what Aegon told you about jasmine flowers. He’d told you, lips inches from your ear, that it made you smell divine. He’d lewdly noted the scent alone, and knowing it came from you, aroused him immediately. At the time, you’d scoffed, rolled your eyes, and walked away from him, but the words lingered in your mind. Aemond never said things like that to you. Not even on your wedding night, when he’d made his first attempt at bedding you. 

Thinking on that night now, you understood why he had trouble getting it hard. It made you angrier. If he thought your body disgusting, he could have said it instead of lying and saying he’d drunk too much. 

Aegon’s suggestive, highly inappropriate comments did not stop at your wedding feast. Whenever within close range of you, the new king felt compelled to engage with you. He’d look over you with lustful, seductive violet eyes, and whisper something obscene in your ear. 

‘I’d give up my crown if it meant I could spend a night buried between those luscious thighs of yours.’

‘My bed is quite cold these days. You’re more than welcome to warm it for me. Naked, preferably.’ 

‘I swear The Maiden really does live in your sighs. Let me praise her by making you sigh with my tongue.’

The comments once made your skin crawl and your stomach lurch. You thought it was incredibly disrespectful of him to flirt with his brother’s wife. Yet, as time went on and then Aemond left, those words haunted you some nights. You did once imagine the licentious, depraved, silver-haired man ripping your dress and having his way with you. You once hoped he might give into those desires and take you like a desperate, feral demon. You used to feel guilty having these thoughts, considering these things, because you were married. You had a husband whom you liked, and wanted to be closer to. Aemond showed some interest in you, so you’d hoped to make things work between you both. Reading Ser Harrold’s letter, and reading Aemond’s, you realized that was all a lie. 

During your bath you pictured Aemond. You saw him in bed now with that woman, caressing and kissing her while you waited for him here at home. Your blood boiled thinking about it. He might be buried inside her at this moment. He might be spilling his seed into her; the same seed he'd spilled into you on your wedding night. It didn't take root there, but that didn't matter. Not now. Not after what you're about to do. 

Or rather who. 

Your handmaidens dressed you in a nightgown of baby blue silk and sheer fabric. Its plunging neckline revealed some of your chest, and the silk belt cinched your waistline. The robe you wore covered most of you, but when left loosely tied, the opening gradually parted in every step. An outfit made for getting Aegon Targaryen's attention. You dismissed your handmaidens for the night, waiting for them to leave before lighting a candle. Holding it by the base, you carefully snuck out of your bed chambers and down the hall. After becoming King, Aegon moved into his father’s old bed chamber. You thought it might be disrespectful, considering the sickly king had died there, but Aegon did not mind. Perhaps in some way, he sees bedding whores in his father’s bed as a slight to him. You slowly walked through the hallways of the holdfast, not coming across a single soul until you reached Aegon’s bedroom door. Ser Erryck stood outside, manning his post stiffly in his white Kingsguard cloak and gold armor. 

“Evening, Ser Erryck,” you said, “I’ve come to see His Grace. It’s an important matter.”

“Evening, my lady,” he bowed. “Forgive me, but The King requested not to be bothered after hours.”

“I understand, but I just received word from my husband, Prince Aemond, and it simply cannot wait until morning.”

“Yes, my lady.” 

He opened the door to the chambers, and spoke into the room, “The Lady Y/N Targaryen, Your Grace.”

Aegon sat slumped in a chair by the fire, gazing into the flames and downing the last of his wine cup. He looked over to Ser Erryck first, about to scold him for interrupting, before his eyes landed on you. Violet eyes stared down your body, no doubt taking in the provocative outfit you’d chosen. He put his wine cup aside, and straightened up in his seat. Wearing a nightshirt, you could see the pale body underneath through the loose neckline. Aegon did not have his brother’s strong, lean body. He appeared softer in features and muscles. You liked it. You did not feel so inferior next to Aegon. Your cheeks burned when you spotted the intrigue growing in his eyes. Especially when your robe opened oh-so slightly to show the sheer fabric underneath.

“Thank you, Ser Erryck,” Aegon nodded, “You may go.”

“As you wish, My King.”

“Good evening, Your Grace,” you said softly as Ser Erryck closed the door. “I hope you have been well.”

“It’d been a rather dreary night until you appeared,” he said, allowing you to enter the room. "Wine?” he asked, nodding to the pitcher and wine glass next to him. 

“No, thank you, Your Grace,” you shook your head, coming closer and standing in front of him. The light behind you caught in your gown, showing off the curves the robe hid. “I’m afraid wine is not the reason I’m here tonight.”

“Then what is the reason for this late visit?” he asked, turning his ring around on his pinky finger thoughtfully. His eyes left your face and scanned down your body again. “Has your husband written to you?”

“I’m afraid not,” you stepped closer, the robe opening completely once you reached him. “He’s fighting in The Riverlands. I doubt he has time for me these days.”

“What a shame that is,” he said, staring at the cleavage your dress revealed. “Were I him, I would’ve taken you with me. A beauty like you shouldn’t be out of her husband’s sight for too long. Who knows what might happen when he isn’t around?”

“Perhaps we should find out, Your Grace.”

You let the robe fall from your shoulders to the ground. Aegon’s jaw dropped. Aemond never gazed at you this way when you’d offered yourself to him. He merely nodded and bid you forward. Aegon stayed glued to your body. “What did he do?” he smirked knowingly.

“Your Grace?”

“Up until this moment you’ve spurned my advances,” he said, standing from his chair. “I’ve offered myself to you multiple times, and each time you rejected me. You’ve been quite adamant that you are a married woman who will remain faithful to your husband even outside of his presence. Despite my brother showing no interest in you beyond his marital duties, you’ve stayed faithful.” He approached you, eyes now meeting yours. “He must’ve done something to bring you here so late at night, nearly naked and mouth watering.”

You never expected him to question it. You’d imagined him simply diving into it, grabbing you and kissing you hungrily. Instead, he stood sneering with amusement in his eyes. Were his advances merely jests at your expense? Was it a humiliating mistake to come here? The Seven would punish you in such a way. You’re far from their favorite devotee. “Ser Harrold wrote to me,” you admitted, “And told me that Aemond has been bedding another woman. She’s a servant woman at Harrenhal. I didn’t want to believe it, but then I asked Aemond and he…”

“And so instead of simply taking it, you’ve come to his brother’s chambers in the middle of the night as some sort of revenge act?” he guessed. He snorted, “Baratheon pride really isn’t a myth, then.”

“I have been nothing but faithful to him,” you snapped. “I’ve tried connecting with him. I tried being the good wife who loves and cherishes her husband. I only expected him to at least respect our vows rather than forsake them for some bastard whore.” The words spewed from you quickly, and it was hard to contain them.

Aegon snorted at your sudden outburst. “I’m surprised,” he said, “I didn’t think my brother had it in him. Though, this might be the only time I’m disappointed in him.” He closed the gap to inches, his eyes looking over your features as he said, “If you were my wife, I’d never want another woman again.”

“Huh, that’s quite difficult to believe.”

“Alright, alright,” he admitted, “I’d probably ogle or mentally fondle other women, but I’d never bed them…” you gasped when he wrapped an arm around you, and pressed you to him. “Not when my wife is a soft, luscious, curved beauty created by The Maiden herself just for me. I’ll confess I’m quite jealous of Aemond,” he toyed with the belt at your waist, warm fingers brushing your skin. “While I was wallowing in grief up here, he was in your bed enjoying the best parts of you.”

“Wallowing in grief, Your Grace?” you laughed at his choice of words.

“Grieving over the fact I was married to my sister and not you.”

You knew it was all bedroom flattery. He most likely did not mean a word of it, but you didn’t care. “I imagine you miss her company greatly,” you said, remembering Queen Helaena and her tragic death. 

“I do. We didn’t have much in common, but she was my sister,” he sighed. “But, the Gods might take things away from us…to only put even better things in our paths.”

“Such as?” you giggled. 

“Taking my wife and bringing my sister-in-law into my arms instead.” He traced the neckline of your gown, and you shuddered. “I will warn you, my lady,” he whispered between you, leaning into you, “Once I’ve had you, I’m not going to stop. My mother claims I have a rather addictive personality.”

“I can see what she means,” you replied softly, meeting him in the middle, “But perhaps I should see it for myself?”

Aegon gave another grin before finally kissing you. The taste of strongwine filled your mouth, the freshness touching your tongue as he slid inside. Aemond usually kept it stiff and chaste. Aegon easily sunk into his desires, holding you by the hips and deeply kissing you. It wasn’t unenjoyable. You liked how his soft lips pecked yours in between deep kisses; how his breath dampened your skin and tongue batted with yours with passion. Not too sloppy or sticky. You could feel his desire for you behind every kiss. It was as if he were putting it to memory, in case you should pull away and change your mind. Your hands on his shoulders, you gripped them softly and felt around to the nape of his neck. He’d bathed tonight. You could smell it on him, and inhaled it all. Fingers sliding into his silver waves and curls, you gave the roots a light tug to encourage him further.

“To my bed,” he muttered, pink lips darker from the hungry kisses. “If I’m to bed you, it’ll be somewhere comfortable and spacious.”

“Spacious?”

“So I may have you however I like,” he replied, kissing you deeply once more.

Guiding you to the large bed beside the solar, he untied your belt and casted it aside. You lifted his night shirt off his body, revealing his nakedness underneath. As you’d imagined, his overindulgence in food and wine left Aegon softer than his hardworking brother. His muscles are not as defined as Aemond’s, yet you still saw them in the natural lines of his body. You liked it. Removing your nightgown in a fluid motion, he pushed you to the bed and gazed down at you. You looked away shyly for a moment. Nobody ever stared at you how Aegon did right now. Not even Aemond. With your husband, it was often in semi-darkness where he did not have to look at you. Aegon soaked in your figure in the dim lighting from the fireplace and from the open window nearby. You noticed his cock twitch between his legs, and felt your sex immediately pulse. 

You jumped at the sudden touch of his hands on your knees, keeping them spread so you’re fully exposed to him. Feeling so vulnerable to your husband’s brother excited you more than worried you. Aegon stared down at your center, licking his lips, before looking up to your breasts. You gazed at him in return. You saw his torso, his narrow hips and soft thighs; his cock was bigger than you’d expected. You often joked he must have a small cock if he has to pay for sex, but it appeared the opposite. You bit your lower lip imagining it inside you. Aemond had a nice one too, definitely worth it, but he seemed to want it elsewhere instead of in you.

“Are you only going to stare?” you asked in a giggle.

“Forgive me,” he breathed, hands running down your thighs to your hips. He gave them a gentle squeeze that made you shudder. “I have longed for this moment for ages,” he said, “I want to savor every moment before the night is done.”

His hands left your thighs for your stomach, his body leaning forward as he felt up your body. He stopped at your breasts, and your clit throbbed again. You watched Aegon cup both breasts delicately, taking in their suppleness and hardening nipples. The pads of his thumbs rolled over the center of each nipple, causing you to shiver from the small spark of pleasure. His eyes locked with yours as he kissed one of them, pleased with your reaction he did the same to the other. Gripping one of them to pinch your nipple, he licked a small strip up the opposite side. The tip of his tongue slowly swirled around it before finally his lips sucking on it gently. The sensations traveled down your body to your center, which started to dampen from his touch. He repeated the action again, letting the flat of his tongue cup it before he sucked. He then kissed his way to the other side, doing the same there until you whimpered. His pinching fingers rolled your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He kissed all around your breasts. He occasionally nibbled on the flesh to hear you whimper from the action. 

“Oh, those sweet little moans,” he mumbled, dotting kisses up your chest to your neck. He let his weight settle on top of you, his warm cock pressing to your pussy. “I could listen to you whimper and moan forever.”

“Aegon,” you gasped when he grinded his hips into you.

“Say my name again,” he whispered in your ear, “Say it just like that.”

He continued grinding into you, and you continued muttering his name. His shaft pressed against your soaked sex, using your juices to slicken himself. Aegon kept you close as he kissed you again. Mixtures of mumbles and moans filled the space in the bed. He continued groping your breasts and rubbing your nipples since you’d given away your pleasure at it. Aemond was nothing compared to this; he never pleasured you this way. He’d done the bare minimum to finish the job. Aegon spent ages kissing and caressing your body. Your excitement built up when he started going downwards. He did not skip over anything. He pressed his lips to the rolls of your stomach, and wide hips. He lingered at your inner thighs, biting and kissing each side as he continued smoothing his hands over you. Your arousal grew feeling his mouth move closer to your core. You’d never had anyone there before. Aemond only touched there. So, when Aegon briefly kissed the velvety folds of your sex, it was entirely unknown to you.

He was not hasty. Aegon kept the pace slow as he kissed up and down the slit of your opening. He let his tongue naturally spread the lips over time, simply sliding on them until your body let him in. You kept your grip on the bed as each lick made you want even more of him. Soon, Aegon spread your legs further apart, hands underneath your thighs and mouth cupping your hardened clit. You could feel exactly where his tongue was, sliding around the hood and underside in gentle swirls and flicks on your pussy. His growls and groans vibrated against you lightly, and you bit your bottom lip when he did it particularly hard. Your back arched up from the bed when he quickly lapped his tongue across your clit and had your eyes falling shut to soak in the sensations. He went deeper into your center as he poked his tongue inside you. You buried your hands into his hair to keep him there and let you grind into his face. Aegon did not protest, staying still to let you enjoy his tongue. Aemond was nothing like this. Not at all. You could become quite addicted to it.

“I’m going to guess my brother’s never tasted you before?” he could see him smirking as he rapidly swiped your pussy folds. 

“No,” you breathed. “Not once.”

“What a shame,” he said, using his thumbs to spread your lips and attack your clit directly. “I’m certainly enjoying your sweet taste. I cannot get enough.” When you brought him back onto you, he chuckled, “And it seems you cannot either.”

“It feels so good.”

To be honest, you thought he’d be terrible. The quality of the sex had not entirely mattered to you; the act alone would’ve been enough for you. But, you were pleasantly surprised. Eventually, he went back up your body, his hand replacing his tongue and focusing on your wet pussy. He kissed you deeply once more, and you whimpered into it.

“I could do this all night,” he muttered, slipping two fingers against your entrance. Your hole fluttered at their touch as if it needed to be filled by them. “Should I, my lady? Should we lay here like this? My hand and mouth on your sweet cunt while you lay on the verge of an orgasm the rest of the evening?” He pressed the fingertips to your entrance once more, and let his thumb brush on your sensitive clit. “It’s a very tempting thought.”

“Aegon, please…”

“Please what?”

“Put them inside me,” you begged. You grind your hips to his hand, “Please, fill me and make me cum. Please.”

He groaned at your pleas, whirling his thumb and making you moan loudly. “Keep begging,” he grunted, continuing the torturous action. “I want to hear my brother’s gorgeous wife begging for me and my fingers.”

“Fuck, Aegon, enough with the games,” you pleaded. “You’ve always wanted me. Now you have me, and you won’t fuck me into your mattress?”

“Oh, I certainly will,” he kissed your nipple, adding to the pleasure burning in your loins. “But, I’m going to make you beg first.”

You whined feeling his fingers continue circling your pussy. You clung onto him as the teasing went further, gripping his shoulders until your nails dug into his skin. This only amused him. Aegon kissed you whenever you became too loud, and stopped his teasing whenever he sensed an orgasm. You worried he might actually do this the entire night; he might never let you finish or push his fingers inside you.

“Aegon, please,” you moaned, “Please, put them inside me. I want to cum all over them; I want you to do things to me that your brother could never do. I need it so badly. I’ve wanted it. Please.”

He chuckled, “That’s what I like to hear.”

“He doesn’t make me feel like this. He could never make me feel like this,” you whined. “Please, Aegon. Fuck me. Fuck me how you’ve promised every time you approached me.”

At this, he finally sunk his fingers inside you. Both middle and ring fingers slipped fully into you; his palm pressed up to your clit, pushing and tapping on it while he fingered you. It sent you into an entirely new wave of euphoria. You held onto him as his fingers found a spot that made you squeal into his shoulder. Soon, your entire body trembled and shook underneath him. Aegon withdrew his fingers right as your orgasm arrived, and quickly sheathed his cock all the way. Having him stretching and stuffing you so easily elevated your orgasm. Aegon did not start off slow. He was not gentle or soft, which you loved. Pinning your wrists to your chest, he slammed his hips into yours over and over as you rode out your climax. Your entire body constricted, and you became numb to every sensation around you. 

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” Aegon panted as you finally came down from your high. “Not at all.”

Despite the satisfaction, you wanted more. It’d been so long since anyone touched you at all, let alone like this. You scooted further up the bed so Aegon could kneel between your thighs. Lifting your legs to one shoulder and holding you by the knees, Aegon slipped his cock between your squished thighs. You moaned at the thick shaft sliding over your stimulated pussy steadily. It split open your folds once more and the thick vein underneath grazed your clitoris each time. The stickiness spread all over your inner thighs and made a faint squelching sound in every thrust. The obscene sounds aroused you further. Aegon showed his appreciation for your thighs by gripping and grabbing handfuls and holding onto them. His head fell backwards in pleasure, huffing and whimpering pathetically at his rutting. You purposefully squeezed your thighs around him, crossing your ankles over his shoulder to keep him locked inside them. Aegon reached forward to grope your breasts again. It was like a teenager humping a pillow. 

“Do you only plan to stuff yourself between my thighs?” you chuckled breathily. 

“I couldn’t resist the temptation,” he laughed in a moan. “I love them. I wish you’d walk around naked simply so I may see them whenever I please.”

“You’re The King, Your Grace,” you said in a sultry tone. “You’re allowed to see whatever it is you want to see.”

“And now I want to see your ass. Flip over. Now.”

You did as told, and rolled over. Ass up in the air, face in the messy tangle of sheets, you couldn’t help pushing your hips towards him. A sharp smack to one buttock made you yelp and then giggle from the naughtiness of it all. Aegon spanked your bottom a few more times as he slipped himself back inside you. Keeping you down to the bed with one hand, he smacked both sides of your ass and occasionally your pussy. The light stinging didn’t distract from your new flow of arousal at all. It added onto it. Once your bottom burned from the repeated smacks, Aegon shoved himself back into you. You both groaned in relief, your bodies finally connected again. Hands grabbing onto your hips, Aegon bottomed up into you over and over. His tip brushing your insides again made your eyes roll back. You never thought it’d be this good. You wanted him to keep going even if he stopped. This time, he started gradually though you wished he’d keep the same flow as before. He kept a gentle pace in every thrust, and it drove you nearly feral. 

“Aegon,” you whimpered, pushing into his hips so your bodies smacked together, “Fuck me. Please, fuck me.” 

“Fuck you, eh?” he chuckled, planting himself firmly behind you as he said it. Soon, he began pounding you, making your body jiggle and ripple in every thrust. “Is this what you want? Huh? Is that how you want it?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

You were positive that poor Ser Erryck must hear you from outside. Good. You wanted him to hear it, so then he tells everyone what he heard. Aegon kept the fast pace for as long as his body allowed, occasionally stopping for a breath before continuing. You never wanted him to stop. Soon, your next climax came burning hot inside you. It shot up through you, squeezing your eyes tight and clenching your jaw as you grunted. 

Hearing Aegon’s heavy breaths, his sporadic thrusting told you he was near. You helped him ride through it by bouncing in time with him. Despite the burning in your thighs, knees, and arms, you kept going until you felt him grip you tighter than before. Hot cum shot over your walls as Aegon finally finished within you. He kept himself buried to the hilt, whining and whimpering your name. The logical side of you knew this was wrong, but the pleasure outweighed sense. 

Aegon rested on top of you, arms around your waist and lips pecking your shoulder. You both laid there for a moment to collect yourselves before Aegon slid off you. In the glow of your orgasm, you couldn’t find it in you to feel any shame. You turned your head to see Aegon beside you. Sweaty, panting, with flushed cheeks, it was an image you could get used to. He felt you staring at him, and looked over at you. 

“Is it what you hoped for?” you asked him. 

“So much more than what I hoped for,” he laughed in a breath. “So much more. My brother is a lucky man.” 

“If he cared about that, anyways.”

“Well, if my brother won’t satisfy his wife,” Aegon rolled onto his side and pecked your lips, “It looks like I’ll have to step in for him.” 

“I certainly don't object to it.”

He smiled and kissed you once more. You stayed in Aegon’s bed that night. You knew word will carry around the keep eventually, and you hoped it did. People knew about Aemond and his servant woman. People will know about you and The King. You hoped Aemond heard about it, and was as hurt by it as you’d been. He cannot shame you and not expect you to do anything about it. 

You rested in Aegon’s arms with the knowledge that at least someone desires you, even if it is Aegon. 

[marcellaasblog]

Not my scent after all.

Main masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Eddie finds out that you know about Amelia. You are going to do any and everything in your power to fuck up Eddie and Amelia's life and take revenge into your own hands with a little someone by your side.

Warnings: So much ANGST!, fighting, mention of cheating, divorce,talk of pregnancy,hurt/confort, happy ending for the reader!

Author's notes: I had help from this amazing person right here @ejlpov she put so much of her amazing ideas into part 2 so thank you for that cause if she didn't do that I would of gave y'all a sad ending💕

Also I recommend reading her fic if you love angst as much as I do!

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When Eddie had got out the restroom he was met with the perfume bottle straight to his head .

"BABE WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR?" Eddie asked as he picked up the perfume bottle glancing up you as you give him the "you know what you did" look. Eddie could feel his heart about to stop any moment as he see you with his phone in your hands. He glances down at your feet as he sees all his shit layed out on the bed.

" we talk about this?" Eddie pleads.

"Nothing to talk about, Edward. Except you don't need to wait till Friday to see your whore". You stands, walking towards the chest of draws you use to share with him , grabbing his keys, removing the ones to the house tossing them and his phone to him, before heading into the bathroom. "now you get to see her everyday. Make sure you're gone by the time I get out, I'll make sure to take your shit to you later."

The click of the bathroom door locking brings Eddie to his senses. It never occurred to him that he would lose her. He lost her. He actually lost her, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

*Ding*

Eddie phone goes off

Amelia:I miss you too baby, wish I could see you now, but I know you'll make it worth my while when I see you on Friday. Good thinking of getting the same perfume. She's so pathetic that she'll never suspect now.

Guilt fills him with a sickening feeling. Eddie's finger hovers over the keys before looking at the bathroom door. He knows she is crying in there, and he's the reason for it. He begins writing

"uh about Friday...."

.

.

Today was no other good day for you at all you didn't go to sleep last night until 3:00 as you cried your eyes out wondering why he would do this to you and what led him to do it.

Today you were determined to take him all his shit, but that wasn't enough for you you wanted him to suffer you were pissed, angry, frustrated ,sad your high school sweetheart the person that you said your vows to, the person that you made love to,the person that brought you comfort an happiness, the person that you made it home for in your heart ,just broke every promise he ever made to you. you weren't about to sit back and let him get away with this shit.

You wanted him to hurt , to suffer,to feel like his whole life was falling apart.

.

You stopped at Eddie's job at the garage as you take in all the boxes of his clothes and accessories he still had at the house.

You were met with his manager Bobby at the front desk he looked at you like you were so crazy woman.

"what's all this dear." He asked as he took a quick Snoop of all the things in the box.

"I'm dropping off Eddie's stuff here I don't feel like meeting him anywhere or even looking at him." You we're on the verge of crying and Bobby can sense that you were frustrated just by the look on your face.

"what did he do?" That was the only question Bobby had to ask before you broke down.

"He,he fuc-ken cheated on me bobbyyy." You say as you you leaned on to the desk, Bobby got out from his chair as he took you into his arms and trying to calm you down.

"shhh sweetie breath, take a deep breath for me doll."bobby said as he rubs your back breathing in and out with you counting to 3 as you exhaled every breath.

He would have never thought in his years of knowing you and Eddie that he would do such a thing to you.

"It hurts, it hurts so bad. I trusted him and he took advantage of that.i don't wanna feel like this bobby, our whole relationship was built on lies. I thought he ACTUALLY LOVED ME." You yelled as bobby held you tightly in his arms he is comforting you as you let all your emotions out.He can feel your tears on his shirt and your hands squeezing against his arm as you sobbed violently into his chest.

Bobby didn't know to do to calm you down so he did what he knows best.

"what a dickhead.you want me to go beat him up or key his car cause I don't mind." Bobby asked as he hears you giggle into his chest.

"No it's alright bobby thank you." You say as you let go of him he brings to your cheek as he wipes away the tears.

"no problem sweetheart,but can I asked you something." He applied waiting for you to answer.

"Go ahead." You say as you already know what he's about to ask

"I don't want to get up in your business but do you know who the woman was?" He wanted to help you that's the only reason why he's asking.

"I don't know her but it was some women named Amelia,it seem like he was real close with her too."

Bobby didn't say nothing as he looked at you. His mouth hung low.

"Amelia what?" Bobby asked. You can feel his grip getting tighter around you.

"That's all it said. Their was no contact photo or even the last name.. why you asking?" you were looking at Bobby like if he was the crazy person.

"I gotta go, look just leave his stuff on my desk I'll take care of it later but here's my number because if it's right about what I'm thinking then you're going to need it." He said as he quickly grabbed a sticky note writing his number on it. He runs out of the shop apologizing to you again.

What the fuck was that all about? you thought.

Why would you need his number?

It took you a second to realize what he meant by needing his number if he was right.

Oh shit....

.

.

Eddie had to go back to live with Wayne until he could get things situated.

When Wayne asked Eddie what happened, Wayne never felt more dissipointed in his nephew untill now.

Why would Eddie do such a thing to you? You were a sweetheart you did nothing wrong to Eddie, you loved him unconditionally and this is what his nephew does to you.

Wow smart move boy,but Wayne knows you, he knows you won't Just sit back and leave it . Whatever you do to get back at Eddie all by mean he won't stop you from the karma that is coming to Eddie.

.

.

Eddie you went to work week after like nothing happened. When he entered the shop his manager Bobby went up to him punching eddie right in the face.

"REALLY MUNSON YOU CHEAT ON YOUR FUCKEN WIFE WITH MINE!" Eddie did know what to say or do as he can feel the warmth of his blood dripping from his nose.

"COME ON YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY FOR YOURSELF YOU FUCKEN ASSHOLE!" Bobby said as he kicks Eddie in the stomach with all his strength he had left in him.

It's Bobby's turn to break to down he should of never believed Amelia when she said she wouldn't cheat anymore.

Him and Amelia had kids a family and she still broke her promise.

Bobby gives Eddie all his stuff and the vanilla folder with the divorce papers you have already signed.

"I don't want you near y/n you got it Munson,take your shit and leave and make sure you sign those divorce papers or I'll make you."

Divorce papers?

Eddie couldn't believe it.

You wanted to divorce him you couldn't even give him a chance to explain himself.

Eddie wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole he felt his heart sink his mind gone dizzy he couldn't hold back his sobs any more .

He fucked up and he's paying for his actions.

"oh and by the way, your fired." Bobby told him as he told Eddie to leave.

Not only did Eddie lose his wife but he also lost his job.

One down one more to go.

.

.

When Bobby found out that Amelia was cheating on him again but this time with Eddie he didn't let her know he wanted to see if she would confess or she would play through her acts and lies still.

When Bobby told you that he knew Amelia and Amelia was his wife you felt sorry for him he could feel your pain as you sat across from him at the coffee shop . He told you it wasn't her first time cheating on him she did it back in high school during prom night and he still stayed with her.She did it a couple of months after giving birth to her second child Bryan.

He loved Amelia and he wanted to do everything in his power to keep her no matter what she was doing.

He wanted to do it for the kids he didn't know how he was going to tell his two boys that their mommy didn't love daddy anymore. he probably won't tell them at all their still to younge.

He couldn't watch their little faces break over something he had no control over.

That weekend you and Bobby went to go get the divorce papers for you and him.

He knew that you didn't want to see Eddie face to face so he gladly said he would give him your divorce papers as well as he gives Amelia her.

.

.

Night before Bobby would give Eddie the divorce papers he sat down Amelia at the table right after she put her kids to sleep. He didn't wait any longer he wanted her out.

"How long?" He asked .

"Excuse me?" Amelia asked .

"How long have you been sleeping with Eddie?"

Amelia's face drops as her blood run cold she knew she got caught and she knew this day would come every other time she would cheat Bobby seemed to catch on.

"HOW LONG!" he yelled

"5 Months." She whispered

Bobby looked at her with discuss. Why would she lied him again? She promised him and she still did it .

"I need you out of the house by tomorrow morning. You can keep everything except the car I gave you and the kids,they will stay with me.Im gonna take full custody of them". He said resting his hand in his face.

He tries to not show his red teary eyes. He didn't want to show Amelia that this was hurting him he wanted to make a point that he wasn't going to deal with her shit anymore.

"WAIT NO BABY YOU CANT DO THAT TO ME!" Amelia yell jumping out of her chair I should try to go hug her out now ex-husband.

Bobby backed away from her

"WHY? HUH WHY CANT I DO THAT AMEILA ,BECAUSE YOU SEEM NOT TO GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THIS FAMILY."!

He may be holding back his tears but he's not going to hold back his words.

"IM PREGNANT!"

Bobby let out a little chuckle as he leans back into his chair.

"well you can go tell Munson to take care it, because that's not my fucken kid, is it?"

Amelia let's her head drop as she sways her head side to side telling him no.

Bobby gets up from his chair ready to head up to bed.

"well I think we're done here, you can sleep in the couch tonight but tomorrow I want you gone." He said walking up his stairs.

He didn't know how he was going to tell you that Amelia was pregnant with Eddie's baby, He didn't want to hurt you more but he knew you needed to know.

Boddy cried himself to sleep that night as he crawled up into a ball wishing he would of just left Amelia that night at prom.

.

After he gave Eddie the divorce papers that morning he called you to telling you to meet him at the same cafe place again.

He needed to talk to you and you knew by the tone of his voice it wasn't good news.

Sadly for him you didn't have good news eaither.

.

.

Bobby didn't wait no time telling you what happened.

"I gave Amelia the divorce papers, but whag I'm about to tell you right now was a shock to me too and I don't want to hurt you but you need to know."

You gulp down your coffee not quite ready for what Bobby's about to tell you.

"Amelia's pregnant and I know it's not mine because we haven't done anything in months." Bobby says running his hands threw his Beard.

"bobby." You say as your eyes start to swell up.

He grabs your hand for confort waiting for you to continue.

"I'm pregnant. I found out a couple of days ago I thought it was just me getting sick because I've been crying alot but I took a pregnancy test , well 2 of them and they both came out postive." Bobby squeezes your hand as he gets up to give you a hug . He didn't care if people were looking at him all he wanted to do right now was to hold you.

"I don't know what to do, this is my first time being a mom and at that a single mom." You cry into his chest as he rubs your head smoothing your hair down from your face.

He whispers into your ear .

"Hey you got this I know you do, and you don't have to be alone you have me" you giggle at his kind gesture whipping your tears away.

"No pretty girl should be crying over a man , especially Eddie. I will do everything in my will and to keep you safe okay. I'm sorry Amelia dragged you into this and split y'all up and I'm sorry Eddie was such a dickhead to fall for it .You don't deserve that baby , no one does."

"Not even you bobby,she ruin everything a woman would of wanted."

You kind words melted his heart as he bits down on his lip not wanting to cry in front of you.

" It's alright shit happened but we learn from it and move on."

"yeah I mean karma is bitch." You smirked at bobby

"she definitely is." Bobby said getting up from the table.

"They will definitely get what's coming to them."

.

.

.

9 months later

Life was much better for you and Bobby now, but for Eddie and Amelia, well, let's just say they got what they deserve .

You see, Bobby was a very well-respected businessman and mechanic who owned serval garages in Hawkins and surrounding towns, meaning Eddie was blacklisted. No garage was willing to hire him. He couldn't even get a loan to open his own shop. The only job Eddie could get was at the plant with Wayne, and that was cause he was now the hiring supervisor. He was back to living in the trailer with Wayne now too, sleeping on the old fold up bed Wayne sleep on in Eddie younger years.

.

Bobby got everything, too, including full custody of the kids. The kids love you as well, evening going as far as calling you mom in front of Amelia, referring to her by name whenever they saw her.

Amelia was your standard stay a home wife. Never working a day in her life once she met Bobby. Amelia had everything people wished for, a rich husband, a beautiful house, and even two beautiful children. She was spoiled and never heard the word no, until she begged Bobby to forgive her and take her back even after he said no multiple times.

She works as the lunch lady at Hawkins High - the only place that would hire her, her reputation as homewrecker following her everywhere now.

Eddie wouldn't take her either, breaking things off the night you found out. Feeling sick with himself every time he saw or heard her voice and name.

.

You pretend Eddie never existed moving on with your knew life with you new fiance and your first kid to be brought into this world. You gave your little girl Bobby's last name , you didn't want a low life cheaters last name to carry on with your daughter. You and Bobby welcomed home a new addition to your little family.

Barbra Benson.

You can say karma was on your side.

I hoped y'all liked the ending and another thank you to @ejlpov for you amazing ideas for the ending 💕

Taglist: @sadbitchfangirl @maxstecc @cassielvy @zaddyskye69

The @ that are crossed out for some reason it didn't let me tag y'all so sorry!

[aquaburst3]

I discovered this cool indie horror game called Dark Deception not too long ago, and I just realised I added some similar concepts into my own fic.

(Disclaimer: This will contain spoilers for my grand plan for my fic. If you don't want to see them, turn away now.)

Dark Deception is a indie horror game. In it, our protagonist, Doug, wakes up in a strange ballroom. There he is greeted by a lady named Bierice, who says that if he wants to go back to the world of the living, he has to collect Soul Shards inside 10 mini dimensions, so she could complete a device. This is no easy task since all of the shards are guarded by monsters, who serve their master, the demon Malak.

What does this have to do with my fic? Well, Addie (Yuu/The Player) is like Doug.

...Okay, she wasn't an abusive, cheating scumbag. But she wasn't the best person either.

To not dive too much into spoiler territory, back in secondary school (high school), she was a Regina George style mean girl, doing everything that trope implies...minus the racism and homophobia/transphobia and the fact she's a brown latina instead of a white blonde girl. Thanks to prepressure and the desire to fit in to her group of "friends", she did something so awful that I think even half of the TWST characters would go, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" After this event had an unintended side effect, her "friends" threw her under the bus and blamed everything on her. Her ex revealed that he was cheating on her the whole time and only dated her out of pity and for her looks. After these things happened, she vowed to become a better person and even took on the nickname "Addie" to distance herself from her past.

A theory about Dark Deception, which I'm inclined to believe, is that at least some of the realms represent Doug's sins coming back to haunt him. For example, the Reaper Nurses level is meant to represent how Doug saw women as beautiful sex objects for his own pleasure while the Joy Joy Gang stand for how he zapped the happiness from everyone else around him and Mama Bear parallels his abusive mother. I'm doing something similar to that in my fic.

One thing I always planned for since the very start was that each of the OB represent a piece of Addie's psyche/past:

Riddle represents disablist rhetoric lobbed at her, especially by her ex at the end of their relationship.

Leona represents her cunning and manipulative side along with the way she tossed others under the bus to get what she wanted and others did the same to her in the end.

Vil represents her queen bee popular bitch traits.

Azul represents the dark girl boss traits that she admires in her mother and that she wants to emulate herself. He also represents her fear of one of her bullying victims getting their revenge.

Jamil is her animus (dark romantic foil in a heroine's journey), so he represents her desire for love, both in romance and sex.

Idia represents her nerdy side along with her devotion to her family and loved ones.

Malleus represents her isolation and loneliness over the last few years before coming to Twisted Wonderland. Same goes for everyone back then treating her as some sort of heartless monster and coming to view herself in the same light when in reality she really isn't.

(This is merely listing off the canon OB that I based this on. Let's just say that there will be some surprises and twists with this list.)

Not only that, but Destan (an OC introduced in one of the more recent chapters at the time of typing this) represents her ex boyfriend who cheated on her, Rollo (calling him that for simplicity's sake) represents her ire towards Christianity for how it treats others and the final boss represents an evil version of her without any of her good traits.

Addie defeating all of these foes, overblotting or otherwise, is meant to represent her reconsoling that piece of herself. She must do this to come to terms with what happened and move on, becoming a strong person and an adult. She also needs to learn to embrace both her good and bad traits.

Granted, I promise the it won't turn out the story was all a dream like some stupider version of the Ash Coma Theory. All of the events are actually happening for real in universe. This is just the intended out of universe symbolism of all this that I planted as the author.

It's still interesting that I did something similar to this indie horror game without thinking about it. Great minds think alike, I guess. xD

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Revenge Masterlist

Annoying Neighbors - amazingdanielhowell

Summary: Dan and Phil get revenge on their noisy neighbors.

Beautiful Liar (ao3) - withawhimper

Summary: A devastating revelation from a cute stranger sitting in the bar where Dan is supposed to be meeting his boyfriend rocks Dan's world- but it turns out that might not be such a bad thing

Criminal - botanistlester

Summary: Medieval AU. Daniel Howell is a nonviolent sweetheart who adores his mother and sister, living peacefully until the day the Marcella Kingdom guards show up in his home, telling him he has murdered a citizen. His penalty? Death. But that is interrupted by a supposedly extinct creature, leading the infamous criminal, Philip Lester, to save him.

Don’t Sext In Class - mairieuxes

Summary: Some boredom there and then some revenge here. Basically, Phil reads Dan’s sexts to him in front of his class.

False Hope - placingglaciers

Summary: In which Dan is determined to find a wanted outlaw to bring back honor to his father’s business; Phil, a wanted outlaw, steals from Dan’s father’s business to pay off a debt; the mess of revenge that comes along with it; and why each side of the story matters. (Taken place in 1860 America, if you don’t mind.)

Festive AF (ao3) - winstonlives

Summary: Phil is turned on by Dan in his pink "Festive AF" shirt. He also gets his revenge for Dan tricking him into buying the elf.

I've Got A Dark Alley (ao3) - drxpdead

Summary: Dan and Phil are strangers who meet while trashing their ex-boyfriend's car - who cheated on them with each other

Live show revenge (ao3) - ALeeHolmes

Summary: Dan gets revenge on Phil during a live show and ends up outing them ;)

ludus (ao3) - hamartiawrites

Summary: Dan won't stop teasing Phil about his baby videos, and Phil's determined to get his revenge. (Or the fic where Dan does have existing baby videos, except the only family member who remembers has given them to Phil.)

Protective Punk (ao3) - WordsAblaze

Summary: Dan and Phil are on the run when Dan’s rival shows up to get revenge, through Phil… A Pastel!Phil and Punk!Dan phan oneshot.

Purple Hair and Revenge - daniactuallysnuffledthatpopcorn

Summary: Dan chalks Phil’s hair when Phil attempts to wash it out.

Revenge Is Sweet (ao3) - danteasers

Summary: Phil’s girlfriend breaks up with him, and to make her jealous Dan and Phil go to some extremes that make them question their feelings about each other.

Revenge Is The Sweetest Thing (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan finds out his boyfriend PJ is cheating on him with a guy called Phil Lester, after getting in contact with Phil he finds out about two other men that his boyfriend is cheating on him with, Ben and Andy. The four of them meet and plan to get revenge on PJ for what he has done, by embarrassing him in many different ways, filming it and uploading it to YouTube. But what happens then if Dan and Phil fall in love along the way?

The Nut Fic (ao3) - Cougar88

Summary: Dan teaches Phil never to eat his Crunchy Nut again.

The Weird Neighbour (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan has just moved into a new flat when he has an odd and awkward exchange with his new neighbour who then makes a YouTube video about it. Dan's friend finds the video and sends it to Dan who vows to get his revenge by being the weirdest, strangest neighbour that this Phil guy would ever meet. Turns out he got more than revenge.

This Isn’t You (ao3) - furryphil

Summary: Phil just wants to know who Dan really is. He isn’t like the rest of the football team, who bully people and harass girls. He’s hiding something from everyone, something that maybe isn’t as bad as he thinks it is. But Dan doesn’t know how to stand up for himself and the memory of how painfully lonely he was keeps him on the team.a series of unfortunate events (that slowly turn into fortunate ones) may change that, however.

Too Bad You Love Me (ao3) - doodlelester

Summary: After a relationship gone wrong, Dan Howell seeks revenge, and it’s going to be bloody.

Until Dawn (ao3) - CorinBlue

Summary: Killer!AU After a tragic event leaves Dan unable to function in society, he starts killing to exact his revenge. Then he meets Phil, a government assassin with the same target as him. Will they be able to end their target before they’re caught or will their distrust of each other tear them apart?

[smolvenger]

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed Series. Chapter 7: Purple Hyacinth

A Fix-It Fanfiction Series of The Essex Serpent

Pairing: some Stella Ransome/William Ransome but focusing on the tragedy of their marriage, eventually Stella Ransome/Male OC

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined and told from the perspective of Stella Ransome. And with a new ending. Stella must come to terms with not only her mortality but her husband's heartbreaking affair. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity. And Stella herself in the center of it all, torn between a wife's duty and her own quiet but present rage. Where in the midst of devastating heartbreak she gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.

Chapter Summary: In Which, Stella mourns her husband's affair with The Woman. And makes a decision.

Warnings: Eventual Major Character Death, Discussions of Adultery and the Trauma of Being Cheated On, Female Rage, Mentions of Suicide, ANGST, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Illness, Victorian era Marriage laws, Religion, Mentions of death and the almost death of a child- but the child doesn't actually die. Greif and Betrayal and Stella grieving and being sad and angry about William cheating (she has every right to be), being Anti-William and Anti-C*ra so if you like them or this pairing you have been warned. Good For Her Plotline

Ko-Fi

Ao3 Link

Chapter Word Count: Less than 5K

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four//Five//Six

“And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; …O, woe is me T' have seen what I have seen, see what I see!” - Hamlet, Shakespeare, II.I.132

GILDA Ah, these are the loving words... ...the scoundrel spoke once to me!

RIGOLETTO (to Gilda) Hush, weeping can do no good, etc.

GILDA O wretched heart betrayed, do not break for sorrow.- Rigoletto, English Translation

“Such was her affection for him, that she loved him in all places, and was desirous of doing anything for his convenience, credit, and comfort…How much more commendable was the behavior of these women than that of those who rail at their imprudent or incontinent husbands, and by their conduct render that home which before was undesirable, quite hateful, and insupportable!”- Alexander Walker, Woman Physiologically Considered, as to Mind, Morals, Marriage, Matrimonial Slavery, Infidelity, and Divorce.

“And (God) said…Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat? And the man said, The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.” Genesis 3:11-12, KJV

I remember shaking.

They finished. they smiled at each other and kissed once more. William and The Woman wandered further into the woods, clutching hands.

My legs gave in beneath me. I caught myself. Doubting everything I saw. Wondering if I was in a nightmare. But it was when I looked down and saw how my knuckles were clenched and I saw the last tail end of William’s tan coat vanish that I knew it was real.

Pulling myself onto the windowsill. Everything seemed to spin as I returned to my- no- our bedroom.

I went to the bookshelf and grabbed one of my journals, one of the older ones. I turned it to the page with the gardenia from years ago. The one William gave to me. His very first gift. The one that gave me hope that maybe he loved me. Keeping it open, I clutched it to my heart.

I couldn’t cry. I hugged onto it tighter on the chair and ducked my head down, squeezing my eyes shut. Then opening them.

I used to love this room. That sacred space where so many beautiful memories and moments. How bitter, sad, dusty, and dark it all looked. The blue walls seemed grey in the dim light. The fireplace was cold and dark. The plates and pillows I decorated looked ugly and gaudy. It was all bitter and haunted and disgusting.

I went over and sat down on the bed. I placed a hand over the covers sweeping through them. It crumpled into a fist as I buried my face into the blankets.

This bed was mine and William’s. The centerpiece of our beautiful little world. It was the bed where our marriage was consummated. Where he used his body to tell mine it loved it. Where our five children were created. The bed where we had our own quiet oasis at the end of each long day. Now it was tainted and abandoned. Once it was dented from his weight and soft from the pressing of his body. Now it felt like a rock, even the blankets felt cold to me.

Did she know everything he promised to me? That he gave me flower seeds and wrote me love letters? That he held my hand as we watched Julianna’s small casket lowering into the ground? That he stayed up late rocking little James to sleep when he cried at night so I could sleep? Did she know what he said to me? That I was his star, his angel? That he made vows before none other than the regional bishop and all Aldwinter that he would be my husband. That he would be mine until death did us part. And he was still alive, and so was I. Sick, weak, dying, but alive.

I turned my face up and saw that we had decorated some of the walls and bookshelves with photos. I traced my hand over the photo of our wedding day- me looking down demurely in a white lacy dress with a bustle and William, then with only a hint of a beard.

There was a photo of me holding little Joanna on the day of her christening- christened by her father! The man who represented and lead none other than the church! Who spoke of morality, what was right and what was wrong, and how to avoid sin.

Then, finally, there was a photo of the five of us- of our three surviving children and us. I and William were seated, Joanna and John in the back and James on the side as the dog sat obediently next to us.

All those happy, peaceful memories and moments were for nothing!

I set down the photos and staggered into his study. His room. The very place where he learned all about how to be a Christian Man and preach it to others. On his desk were the piles of papers. I blinked, and then picked them up, reading them. I found they were not any drafts of a book. No, they were letters. Letters from The Woman. And drafts of letters to The Woman. The dates on the far-left corners were all recent. As early as the week she arrived here.

I read them word for word. There were discussions. Discussions of the Serpent. Of Leviathan. Of the Aldwinter beach. Of Joanna’s antics and Frankie’s. Of faith and science. Then it changed.

The letters were of love. Love. She returned his feelings. The drafts were all confessing the longing in his heart and body for her.

Not for me. Not for his wife. For her.

One letter from her wrote how she noticed how longingly he would look at her at dinner. That she noticed his glances and stares. It was at the very dinner where I made the roast, vegetables, and biscuits in her welcome. I wasn’t even sick then. And I was present.

The letter fell from my hand and I became dizzy, falling onto the chair and clutching onto its arm of it for support. I felt a lump in my throat, but not from blood.

Oh, God! Oh God, what had I done! It was all my fault! I thought it was at most a harmless infatuation, a small thing, nothing more! I had permitted him to dance with her the night of the party! I thought dancing with her would make him happy for a little while after seeing his torment in my condition.

Once, he had a great passion for me. Once, we were making love at the rate of twice a day. Once, we continued to regularly bed each other after the births of five children. Had he…no longer wanted me? Had my ill body now disgusted him? Was that the real source of his grief?

It then struck me. He had made love frequently and passionately to me. The whole time I thought it was for me alone due to its frequency, that I was his wife, and that he loved me.

Oh God, all those years, and now it struck me how naïve I had been! How come I not realized something about William this whole time? Fourteen years of marriage to him, and yet it never struck me the truth about him!

His weakness was lust!

That was his sin. That was the one closest to his heart and the one that made him twitch and struggle. That was his Achilles Heel.

Had I realized that sooner, I would not have allowed him an inch near The Woman. I would object and insist he avoids her partnership to search for The Serpent. I would not have sent him to the dance with her. I had given a hungry wolf a key to a den full of plump and injured sheep without thinking he would bite into one.

I crumpled the paper beneath my hand and set it down. I bit down on my tongue to keep from screaming until I tasted blood from it.

Were there more letters he was hiding from me? All this time? Had there been others before she arrived?

She, she, she, she…I never considered myself an angry, spiteful person. Not until now. I knew now how it was to truly hate. I had not a single redeeming thing I could think of The Woman. I wondered if I could even have the heart to look at her. I hated every bit of her. I felt a wave of anger and pure hatred I had not dared feel in ages. Even if Joanna admired her. Even considering her past, even if her husband beat and choked her, I felt no pity for her anymore. Cruel fantasies entered my mind. I wished that her husband killed her long before she set foot in Aldwinter. I wanted to slap her pretty face until it bruised. I began thinking of the truly awful, horrible things I could scream and hurl at her.

Yet I sat there, hands shaking.

I opened another drawer of William’s desk. I pulled out papers, scanning to see if there were any more letters or letters from any others before. And in the bottom of the middle drawer, I found a small hunting pistol. And bullets. I put it in my hands, filling one bullet into the gun.

Perhaps I should end it. End my suffering. Stop waiting for the consumption to take its final toll and get it over with. I should let him be free. Let him be happy. Let him finger her against a tree as many times as it pleased him. Let them walk on beaches and dance and father her children and live in his house in his bed and go to church and cook and clean for him as I once did.

3. Support him in his emotions without complaint

Or perhaps, this was the wrong method. Maybe I should pick a suicide more poetic. One only he would know of so he would know the severity of his betrayal. I would leave a note pinned to me and then fill my pockets with heavy stones, find his secret pond, and keep walking into the waters.

But…maybe if I did, then there was the risk that I would go to hell. Then, for all my work, devotion, and sacrifices for William, I would be damned, and he would get away with it and continue his affair now that I was out of the way.

Why should he be the free one and not I? Why could he take a lover and I could not? Why could he destroy our marriage vows and not I? Why should I be the one sent to hell after a life of faithful service and him the one to survive in sin?

Most of all, why should he be the one to live and I the one to die?!

I placed the gun down on the desk.

I opened the window for some air. And in a distance away-I saw him. Her son. The Woman’s son. Frankie. Sitting on the grass, Quietly looking out into the sky and the view of the town.

I picked up the gun and felt the gunpoint out the window at him.

Yes, part of me whispered. It’s perfect. He is right there. Frankie.

I could easily do it. One small movement of a finger and everything would change. If that is what William could do- move his finger and ruin everything, then so could I.

It would be worse than killing The Woman. Worse because She would live to suffer through it.

And oh, after such pleasure, she would suffer. Yes, she would suffer immensely. Her choice would bring her suffering for her sin, rather than the mercy of death. If she stole William from me, then I would steal Frankie from her. William proved my deepest, most silent fear true. She was better than me. Everything I could not be. But in this, The Woman and I would finally be equal. She would know the pain I felt in losing my husband with the pain she would feel for losing Frankie. In blood, she brought him forth and in blood, I would take him back.

I slowly walked closer. Frankie never noticed me and kept on picking at the weeds in the grass, face turned away.

My finger reached for the trigger. But I could not pull it. It trembled in my hand. I found tears were starting to flow from my eyes and my teeth were gritted.

Frankie turned around to look at the sky, his face in profile. Such bright, curious eyes. My children have bright curious eyes.

I lowered the gun and returned it to its drawer, shutting it. I closed the window.

How could I? How could I even consider such a horrible thing? What if someone did that to James, Joanna, or John? It was as if I almost murdered one of my own! Why should Frankie, an innocent boy, be the one punished for the sins committed by his mother?

I walked down the stairs. Not even the dog was around.

Without William, without my children, without my parents, without my siblings, without the clergy, without the people of Aldwinter…who was I?

I was alone. Truly, truly alone.

I then walked outside. My garden was dead and bare. Nothing but brown dirt and withered plants.

I walked around the house and off to where the woods began. I could see the attic window high up. I knew which tree it was. I had a feeling. I walked across the small field and into the woods. I approached the tree. The tree where they made love. I took off my blue ribbon and tied it around a branch on the tree.

As I walked further, I kept thinking of her- her with her red dress, her pale skin, and most of all her hair.

That was what William wanted! He didn’t a woman like me at all he wanted someone like her! Like her! Even with hair like her!

In a fury I ripped off the pins of my hair and threw them to the ground, loosening my hair, making it loose since that was how she wore it! If I had only worn my hair like hers, let each strand fall, perhaps William would have never strayed from my bed!

I hated it- I hated my hair, it wasn’t hers. I hated my sick body- it wasn’t her healthy, open, available one. I hated my character and interests- it wasn't her character and interests. I hated everything about myself- because it wasn’t hers. I hated myself since I wasn’t her.

I kept walking down, feeling my hair free and moving with the small breeze, not caring for the bitter cold. I embraced it. Anything was warmer than William Ransome’s marriage bed. I staggered onto a tree, out of breath, holding onto the branch, clutching it.

I let out a scream. I had not screamed since I was in labor for James. Birds flew away. I wondered if anyone heard me. But no one came.

Then finally, I sobbed. Not the quiet tears I had over almost murdering Frankie True, big, loud, violent sobs. I cried and cried

I then let go of the branch and collapsed onto the grass and dirt. I curled up into it like an animal or a child. And I cried more. Cried and cried and cried and sobbed and wailed and cried, face hot, tears everywhere, my body shaking from how deep they were. I was gulping for air in between sobs only to cry some more.

I cried for William, the generous, kind, handsome, open-minded, gentle, religious, and loving husband I met, knew, loved, and married. The William who made little jokes. The William who took morning walks and would show me the pebbles he found after. The William who spoiled me with gifts swam with me in a pond and said he loved me. How I thought that since he was a priest, he was a good man.

I cried for the old William I missed and this new William I just discovered. I cried for how this side of William was always there inside him only I was too stupid to realize it.

I cried about our wedding. I cried for our dances. I cried for our holidays I cried for the church, his church, his ministry, and the years I poured into helping it and its people for nothing.

I cried for the five children I brought into the world from him and yet despite the years of having them inside me and the great pain of labor and the risk of death on my part just to bring even them into the world, that that wasn’t enough for him. I cried for how the surviving children would have to learn that their father no longer loved their mother but someone else.

I cried for how I was now abandoned to die of consumption. I cried from how unfair it was. I cried for our dinners, the laundry, the meals, the garden, the list I followed, and everything I did for him and how it was all in vain.

Most of all, I cried that I wasn’t enough for him.

I felt the last sob escape me. Then there was no urge to cry. There was silence. Only the birds and the rustling of the trees.

I got up and leaned against the tree. I coughed out a little bit and saw that there was some blood on my hand. I wiped it off onto my white nightgown on the skirt. If a hunter or wanderer discovered me, I wouldn’t care. But what was I even to do?

Could I go back into that cold bed and stay there? Alone as he would go into the forest and roll around in the grass with The Woman? To pretend that I didn’t know and didn’t care? To pretend I approved? To pretend to my children and the clergy that I wasn’t devastated? To even die like this? To have fourteen years of my life as the wife of a vicar for nothing? To have my final moments be that alone, unwanted, and most of all, unloved by the man I married?

1. No matter what, you must overall support your husband in his ministry, friendship, and partner with him for a loving home atmosphere.

I blinked out of my thoughts as a crow let out his caw above me. Looking down, I noticed there were seven blue wildflowers.

It was still winter. Yet…here they were alive and blooming. Despite the coldness and death, they survived. I plucked one from the ground and twiddled it in my fingers, I placed it in my hair to feel it. Then as I plucked another one, I felt a tranquility wash over me. Just as it did when I found blue wildflowers at Julianna and Josephine’s graves.

I recalled losing my daughters. I recalled the dream I had after their deaths. I recalled what I heard them say.

“Save yourself, Mama.”

I remembered William’s words after the doctor’s fatal announcement. “She always was too good for this world.”

I could be good, saintly, perfect, and die.

Or live.

And I wanted to live.

I now knew what I had to do.

It would be hard. So, help me it would be hard. One part of it would be the hardest of all. But it would be worth it, I resolved. No matter how sick I fell. No matter if this was my last day or hour. I would no longer tolerate this.

I got up, and on the path back to the Ransome house, I passed the tree with the blue ribbon. I stared at it for a second. Before I acted on my plan, there was one thing that had to be done.

I walked to the front yard. The axe was still against the tree stump. I picked it up. It was heavy with my weakened arms, but my fury gave me strength, and resolve tightened my grip on the handle.

I returned to the tree with the blue ribbon. The tree where The Woman and William consummated their affair.

I picked up the axe and slammed the blade against the wood. I kept hacking it again and again and again. A sick, frail woman is no woodsman, but I kept at it. Grunts and even yells escaped my mouth. Let all Aldwinter hear me. I didn’t care. They all would know what he did eventually.

The tree could not be chopped down by me, it was far too thick and sturdy. But now it was marked. Weakened. Made ugly. Enough that when he returned, along with my ribbon, he would know what I thought of him coupling with The Woman.

I returned inside and upstairs. I got a coat and a bag that I slung over my shoulder. Any cash I could find I pocketed.

I was going to leave. I was going to get out of there. I was going to get out of the house and never look back. Even in my sickness, if I had to crawl out, I would do it. I would not stay in this house with him.

I went into William’s study. I took every letter to and from The Woman I could find and stuffed it into my bag. If it was of The Serpent or of Passion, if it was one from her or a draft of how he ached for her, I placed it in there. I would need them. No one would believe my words alone and he would no longer have a scrap of her. Not after he was writing and reading them as I lay coughing blood in the other room.

There was one thing this would mean. It made me tear up again at the thought.

14. Raise healthy, well-balanced children and be present for them.

I had to leave my children with him. They were gone and should they arrive, I wasn’t sure I would take them with me or that they would even want to leave the house. If I had the strength in my body to care for them and carry them off with me, I would. But I did not.

Besides, even if I did, consumption or no consumption, by law, they were his children. Not mine. A swift visit of the police or a lawyer and they would be taken from me to him. It would be a pointless battle.

And yet- I didn’t have to abandon them in my heart or my love. Despite how I sobbed at the thought of leaving them, I knew what the alternative was. And I knew they had a roof over their head, clothes, and food. I may have to forego being a wife, but I didn’t have to forego being a mother.

I took out three pieces of paper from the study. I wiped the tears off my white sleeve before they could drop onto the ink. On the first one, I wrote:

“John, James, My darlings,

I am not staying here. Know I will always love you and care for you. I will always make sure you are fed, clothed, and loved. You shall find your mother at Fanny’s. You may always come there and see me and ask something of me should you need it. Anything!

I cannot stay here with your father anymore. Ask him why.

Love,

Your mama.”

I placed it on John’s bed. On the second one, I wrote,

“Joanna, My love,

Your father has committed the amorous rite with another woman. He no longer loves me; he loves her instead.

I will be at Fanny’s should you need me. But I will no longer tolerate how your father has betrayed me. I cannot stay with him anymore. Your father will not be welcome at Fanny’s, but you and your brothers will be. I love you, my Jojo, and I will always take care of you. Find me at Fanny's if you wish to speak or need anything from me.

Love,

Your mother.”

I placed it on her bed.

Then, I finished one final letter. I walked into his bedroom. I found the journal with the page with the gardenia still on that cold bed. I ripped off the page and placed it there next to the letter.

It was the shortest one. The final letter read:

“Dear William,

My deathbed will not be one shared by an unfaithful husband.

Take care of the children.

- Stella.”

I took off my wedding ring and placed it on my- no, his blue pillow.

I thought of the outside. I remembered our walks by the pond and our swimming in it early in our marriage. Of our picnics and walks by the nearby ocean.

The ocean. The sea. The sea is inevitable. The sea is full of danger. The sea may delight and drown. The sea kills thirsty men who drink its salty waters. The sea never ends in its length or depth. The sea hides and houses the Leviathan. The sea was where had I chosen differently now or been less careful in the past, I could have drowned. The sea destroys.

But what of me? Me floating above- swimming in this and trying not to drown, while I was on land?

I recalled my own name, written down on the first page of the flower journal- Stella. Stella, of course, means Star.

Stars seem so small up in the sky. Glowing despite all the dark. Giving light to the night sky so that any lost traveler can find safety. Their light and dust are said to glimmer. Stars are called beautiful. They seem like such tiny, fragile things. We mimic them on paper and put them on Christmas trees. We paint them. We decorate dresses with them and make jewels in their shapes. We aspire to them and call people we admire after them- "stars." They are there to be looked at. Beautiful, but distant. Miniscule. Weak.

But if I accurately recalled what science I learned from Joanna's reading, stars are not small at all when you look at them. They are actually large. The sun itself is a star too. Even as they die, they become black holes and entrap and vanquish all who cross them. Stars are full of fire. Fire warms. Fire burns. Fire destroys. Fire spreads. Fire does not go down without a fight.

I knew which part of my name I had to become now. Maybe it was always there and asleep until then.

I looked around the house and upstairs. Goodbye house, I spoke silently. Goodbye kitchen was full of many meals. Goodbye children running up and down the stairs. Goodbye family dinners and parlor gatherings. Goodbye attic. Goodbye, the counter's I've cleaned hundreds of times. Goodbye nursery. Goodbye blue collection, my pretty pillows, pebbles, and plates- you aren't mine, you're his. Goodbye chairs and desks. Goodbye bed that was so warm when I first laid down on it and now promised nothing but heartbreak until death. Goodbye morning walks with William. Goodbye, false kisses, caresses, and promises. Goodbye picnics, games, books, questions, mud, scolding, and so much more of this old, lying life!

Above all, goodbye William. May sleeping with her be worth it.

I went downstairs, walked out the door, and left the Ransome house.

Outside, the sun was setting into twilight. I had to go while it was both dark and light.

I forced my eyes forward to town. I didn't look back. I never returned.

[libidomechanica]

And braiding gray

A ballad sequence

               First Stanza

A dead wings by his Cheek of the     for thy preluded jade face vnarmed, if you of dead! The     power, the rangers of

flowers, the dew had joys to land,     sister, helpless for years fell? ’Tis there, ev’n thou, feminine     you can’t a pleasures, and

what either her mine athwart though     my Petite, however, daught I’ve heaven bed and and glades     were fondless lambs, and drank

your solitary pails bring gales     of force your name one but fords a Hells me thou say. What it     would have him that old breath

to the rather joy? All the kind     amber left his Cheapside; pitying! Her eyes,—ere the oxen’s     imperfect hear me!

               Second Stanza

If I—this honey-whispered, so     revenge the lone who in flow the last I unclose delights     onion. They tried; and heart.

First to strike doth flower down twenty-     five, and he flower of us water, urge no meant     aught near, no light all out,

yet no dream with the cross your hallop,     flower, as love any long-hid lover cones rave a     young, all hopeful a

sympathetic touches free from the     maternal bounds, and whiteness, as I by you’ve me. There. Simple     beautifullest, of a

grave; ghost the make a is you thought     up to hear me from highest brush’d shaking round Apollo’s     pipe, letting of yew tree.

               Third Stanza

So danger, my love could have paint.     —His sportion as cold with suddenly have cruel stay he inspire     when all I forgetting

fourth the soul, and strife with the     visions on a hostilent groves well-sung hence find you, now!     Of all the blue-bell as

eyes cannot with silken tend is     snow is it? Among the celebrate, what a cadaver.     For one wounded from the

will as the World. The Maidens can     makes sensity; and take thine between learn’d gilly moated     one in him the found soon

it? And moon, to see grated gentle     greed, the sprung and I rise twenty, yes: who love, only;     you whose ever heart-free,

that blow! Or canst the loud continual     chaff of chalk, the beauty. This, with naked the last     yestern religion grins

of men—man’s Henna from dreadful     passionate paid; she matron; over thanks. Who, in as the     sweet thence, till China and

linger in perfectly because     I never where be, noticed you’re my hip, the old, that is     the see who love, awhile

we their grandeur of the bow’rs,     celestial room the saw his parts to past touch entice up—he’ll     life for me from her muse!

When I see as the liar, and     in their pledge of then, you reproduce he harmony her     and yes I will water.

               Fourth Stanza

Same law and think of you’re happier     perspection cast in they tell my brow and I think they     leaves where sped a while earth,

and verses to heart, the works of     another’s art. Your play forget the mistress, your eyes fill     with’ring overs, the door

with noise of the Exchange their kindly     am service; yet this eyelash desires; and ripply     company fathers.

               Fifth Stanza

As well, but mine ground her bargain     of a grand-dames, on thy lip, and cannot exaltation,     haste what’s friends in my ivy

garden grape in thy faithful     blast has not beef I lovers’ soul cheat and pinch. But on their     steps aside, so liver

this wife, you’ve forgotten. A tear     my soul gave bethought the world see who from peels, murmurs is     the brightful love that mark?

               Sixth Stanza

” Who am I ran, her pale main.     If youthful of business, might be her splendour survive no     long far braine, and eyes of

reason, owe, O Heavens you because;     but glow this still, I know Love, to sullied, begin now     taken up some emanations

end? Quick for one another     to hers, and their beautiful passion speaks forlorn, void     left forth an Indian

book this friends in beams divine! Shake     you this, out-facing arts, with my being, not composed rose     of two, and business in

repeat. How fashions and then did     he, There hand languisht wits are their vows of a king! Were are     a patient light; and in

the short a store of youth law and     the foolish thy hand, whose Two Love’s milk. An element them     not wish result of all

over, next, well-suffice: no     leisurely bourne, I should have swore be all than Time’s start alike     thirst lean Heart, hoping sounds

the sight, sooner of eminence     find, which else would suffocating so soft, moon was long which     the window long, and ev’n

my all of the bailey beaty     and banks, arms, but his never rat, thou love tie; next, Virgil     I’ll drown low, and wide laws

of lips? Of the stone set influence     dead surrogate? Rest the chapel open shed, on her     one? You are, as the Lily-

whisp’ring leads hoary, I would     at lace, in rejoicing throughout hush on the sunly and     all out-told nough. A bower.

Thrown and verse precipitated     brow and tranquil checked, there I ran, here in one hangs by     link but passions wild that

make him and small rest love; nor that     other served through. To plays where Justic leap the diamond vallies     may be failing eye,

if Loues cup do keep of ethere,     and smile of the whole day, what yon all I, unshade doth skin;     when so it stopt with my

heart, and the bride—till wiles. They were     sheep-track’s master the tiny cells, and on that image was;     and grows o’ the comes of

life, and adulterate heroes     outspreads of clove, from the war; shall not in dissembles there.     For her vodka or civet

can bright be as might blessed me     a human foul of Good as at painted, and live, whose? When     The way my lov’st to see

thy sphere, such a one as the natures     we protesque, none, it in their cried on that men stay. For     her voice; then now wind, where!

               Seventh Stanza

Her sons dart, and no long age, that now look, and yon     the daught miss, the exalts thorn peer, were is calm and since and that take in me every soon     the sworn to any darling help,

comethings to do thee! Like the rites the this cooing     guilt, then i’ th’ unfamiliar, towing the statuary it is the store of     the grasshoppers form he ladder! No

means can be done, in the ground so, you as a ladder!     We were then, sweet herbage; and thro’ the Maker not once-love but pass and her she leave     to makes up the words the bar through flower,

thrills with the year, the lot. Moods: not this no     encroaches bough! I cherry him? And the nether commitments close by the fate to roam the     Maker’s Ancle—cries, and arms long against

thou prevenge in like a chastity retorted     hare: how full of the sad moonless flush with treason. To the broad way. Of disbelief;     ah, more them Yet I roses; and, plasted

to be brood, the crown on the grafts of the leaf     that all enforce, no. Honor’s made of black where quickly veins? Body who shall see stems at     length my dazzling best, to moments, by

the porch of flowers him with yet lose this green her     virgins keep it at heart of us will at least night had sea; an unknown the glen at     whim, seems there to pain; the will Yes.—Why,

began to annoy; treble pray: so kept me Love     into a river ran one, and other own domes in humble as not streams, and the mirror     of eve, while Abelard life in

progress song out. While they camera charity! As     pole; in her, to what Barbican. What doubt, I’ll my joys before Alexandria was,     unwilling than on., I will, with all

ill once my smile as they are, whence and her side, in     a coming winds and take amends. But all enforce her mind, turning-star’s a flag in, so     in my Abelard because foot or

face, in thy company of his rightened hours     have pass into the happy charms: straying, if the morn, to feeling smiles, when he little     journed over one finds the kind grow!

And the snowing that I do but for my stores our     idle world’s no sluggishly by dying your passed young man, to delight thy change variety     countless fear, could rise, she proved

bed-posts serve than nightingale’s conside on, when     I hold your coat, then love among before, Lovers than we began the might and thro’ the     kings freshfully,—how thou smiling of

Ireland, could you, his most mad to the sun. All the     heart’s contentment! That now the Syren’s imperfect heart thousand this what grasp, that sucks that     heaves about, and Sleep the restrait should

thy genius fruits. The rather love me shade. And the     goes of lovely July-flowers. Fail I alone tell him windows holds a blow! Bowery     island with fane? Forget not by?

Enough sealed in which I sight its me not warm th’     unwilling, that for her crown. She priest eyed grandeur of the lidless did he meant to     issues fortune be at this tyrant,

if to process the rescued from above they ’d     man once more or clouds, and the end of going taken as I may foretold the poet’s     best, the ledge of in blackneyed the will.

               Eighth Stanza

Beautiful a wail’d, change! Grind of     beauties, love find abundants; the passionists do the Kiss     of a mistress she weak

thee forgive told may brings asthma:     it’s doings, and hair, an innocence? With thy grieve my     desires, the ebbing she

way of time world’s dusky brim their     air be my soul; and learned,— and so tame woof offal     interestinies! The murmurs,

and, the Rich it seem most sad,     so deep woods mine or deluded jade face against my voice     engender pious, but

the horn peer, shall primrose, and pains     his name it work, ’ said; she save passionally fitted to     fold that shoulds’t, while I see;

shall feel! Were asks ease, and breathers.     I could with his chance, the porch, refusing skin and for the     led her from thou are rivers

that you, to whose call have been     now, while or kiss and in you put uncurrender if not     help it unto you move

under stirr’d, and mourney tongue lay     a trace and from her sweet nothings, up a thou, than I hope     to feel and sunny noonstrain:

be seem! How things lonely driven     him, but Thee dominions whispers, instead on a pile     of they store of ill-requite

did hand oppos’d, dear, not take     me some breathing? But you scarcely taut, ere ye know how each     press of her sin. A blood-

red heavy ditty, and could suffering     hand did she bondage of my past but stream pass the nuptial     day. From Greenwich Village,

far for me to have hopeful     stay’d and listening sea love for the rising offence and love     know’st hope, Africa meet

searching moon: and look on that rites     vnflattend! For if April wear locks smooth ouerpassed me wrist;     starlight, as the born. Sometimes

deliver the for she was     but yet with one burn! Poison bed lasting’s plating of ether     since at Prato, splashing

court, as truth,—thou are o’er that     beautiful passions all the stagnant or brow! And for our     shrill with thing has power.

               Ninth Stanza

Bliss of pictur’d liver mortal     love renews at the was, and fear me creak’d; then, Love better     smart. Two bodies, and can’t

stay, since the mad; all these presence!     By our day morning oblivion been, the this he used,     were within the cool radian

book; or, it means good cabins,     the sure, my cheek discovered grave space of windows sweet first     come. My bonie false to high!

               Tenth Stanza

Were love, my death. His queen all throught—     and till its Salt, again, to see the was; and a rhyme? Was     in the said, came tomb-stone.

               Eleventh Stanza

What poor drudge, an on your hunting     hence this name his mouth,-—anon among thee of heave to hath     being, if any wood ye seen? Ever after will linger’s     silks are left offender’d away her lives how seem besides     of reventh Heavens

our souls, and a world rush of what,     iste person to sin. It is seen upon a sweet sounds, and     then prayer; heav’n; dispense I never knees; ye soft, and earth     wine, is tomb, a neighborhoods we tales to working to breezy     sky, through of Zephyr-

sigh one sighingly house under’d,     and vales: but you, so I will hand, plasted to banish thy     posies soon forget the glimmer, or a tradesman’s lives,     my heart? Was a pearl, and waking and sacred flies for that     I would aching in the

freely call, there; of why on ever     thee with endless in the treaty and small all virtue,     new acquiesce, adventures, cold—yet someone which is knees     old. See now knew; all be, when his she that the charity     Who whirr and the fled so?

               Twelfth Stanza

The sea of weary, care began     to roam that rest clouds of spangly by the white. I’d live     without in her still—It’s

no seas the moon, to me along     to be richly reasons all fancy flatt’ring in turn to     get through seal’d. Shall my sigh,

whether walked all mind; so I miss,     letting that water sudden spites; my paint on my voic’d:     Ah white curtain, is no

fence, thou so clean one, in minished     into a climbings in the Ages, who dives it     posterious, survive I brough

shyness that yon the walk alone,     for any more. Saucy pedanticipated with mine,     hawk on that scent wrong hawthorn

parley from despised love white     amber, through his swerve morn and bade their days, thought patient rule     of journey take back, and

Thee in peace or kiss and she     precipitate and prayers to knit they are meaning downcast,     as in kissable took

her blood knots, though the nerves will brown     me lot of Thee! So long’d, not to come and yet, a more rain     clings to them which else, your

distance of her fortune before     my Muse-brow’d round so well saw that Urne. That are peepest her     grange your cull time be dead:

an element. Vitriol madness     the dew fall a little, and gently to the Gardens     fair pledged shoulder: her spongy

hydropt my darling on the     bard secure, twas every mistresse, the Dust of some blooms: and     legs and between that the

morning all the careful arch of     gain’d wood, as deep darkener of the fawn and the lute, from     our voice, but bid it is

how, ere like thou still, and let me     thrush of us: then, unload of Love lies, to tease my source:     The bent, until my for

days, we called my eager follow,     from Thames of the first, unheard. My lips the sun is soule posses     the virgin-troop of

the stiff promises like sports rescued.     But to groan, whose every disk caughter land doom to     wherefore her sips late with

that watch thy lips, whose pure dearth wake     unto hide the shall I look’d themselves of prais’d my store, Love     war; shake you which shall my

swelling presently unmendable     fallows cold night than the little light; and throb with been     beams into stands not who

could have neither tremblings to a     dawn in the you about me; and my verseeing swarm and in     beds door until a

genital feel the blue moor last to     pat thou had been are so thee, like downiest me so, your looks;     to entirely son!

               Thirteenth Stanza

Is them by a deepest he is     good whole, or ruffled for still that off! It is the mouth last     spark of the well-raisde not know all mind a day, trodded to     sluggishly in the swore with ambers of love forest; stare:     gay the Prior: when you

give and them, as uninvolves     with you! Cave is not the gift; creating somethink heart     was, strange thyself diseases; or, if thy God! Thus I want     deplore the learnestly, knot, would not looking woes. Death the     piece will breath, the occasionate

palpable pipe, let face     I said, he roar, not all companies near. Thirty years might     enormous is not shrines! Dust wish resign’d the here! Both day     hate than heirloom seed saved as white hands dropt offence. Is as     it with strong, weeks but your

hallow was a spreading, through it     out, if you stick through at month: so, boy, not for being—had     I behold have sleep it always no Room ancient cause that     charity fame haste what she, stained, that bound there’er I long     ere that liuing norther Lippo’s

doing hugging armada     of the goal, the very nest. Or so well courtier flower     issues force from me? Made the day, not, my sackclothed     and done thou stand in truth our my night, thy morning all thy     did no wore that, roll! Give

ready walk with the firm and     deformer love him, gliding, all the drew his western still the     bad. Love tie; new objects love been? Does by, when sadly die?     A little lisper two little without that can once my     body still at once dead?

               Fourteenth Stanza

Were singing walls across heroic     company forget’st holds john Baptist’s homicidal     ring-dove let we touchwood, and let another’s at lengthen     in thy of you! Into Natures for the Rahvs in like a     very flower, yet love

light on was a cheek, like grass or     deares, can be bleating song. The dreamer, all looked all: wrecks.     Except in one flute. For he alone upon that fellow     warm her pure a god and clear rise if she was in a     roysterings, ever soul to

prune, the seek repose: heaves, of woes.     She new chang’d, no means again, and pure deeply tongue, that sweet     fine. Love my day to giue me from the unsatin intentment!     Into the bloom and heart, wot not one day, those shopping     so dead, fair make good, lilies

making reign, and seen, what you,     greatness of flower-plots were it is, through flowerets crystal     Devon, wipe Thou knead me to this Childe-like thing the boats.     That watchingly covered the stubborn cycle. Rules of no     vulgar bra and each only

mighty deathful wiles. Someone,     oh, be all the this, wha forbore—so delights I stood before     the merely sonne of motion’s and stronomer. And I     want to that and never is not do with not, beseech arise     and heart. It feelings

and would have love’s man, and fast;—oh!     I will all thirst set a plate prayed faces leisureless     lie? Stink like a long fair; in brood on a dark wood-coal or     two with endorse this cruelly moated gentlenesse favorite     neck, as we are rich bondage

of the toast brake, rise about     to keep it, our she three deceitful surgeon’s care; buy terms     did the future spectation of the world have so bliss, leaving     shall by men-slugs and alway herald this sunk children     to stamp the trysted name;

yet retire—to loves; ev’n the     suddenly proper pines thy mighty be, and then, coffee,     open free her dear horses from my eyes doth keeps us     to see what twinkles gone, or ruffled fro, a day, as he,     with Bloom off gorged young

were morning to his Foot may like     sun, so slow from who but fewell? Sudden silent night gold     far as I have I brough and liness thou are, yellow reeds     the maid, My life! You are richer earth wake. It make my store;     laid her where he might think

me the wild the bed of grass or     maps on the grass and thought, but in this, with the sinner be     bleating Boy, since at Prato, splashing was charmeth their noses     of morn! Back that he head of which thy love-suit, though each     with bad-mixture spoke in

his cheeks but them kiss your worse to     weave the pearl round-worms, let the hold, love your wind of garland,     home. Trust her, with Time hast though suffered, the girl, whate’s     elysium; vieing chance, and the talking. Had she’s no advancing,     channels pebbles every

source, where, Heavens your hand, some     with a crystal brown, I had with less a charitablet,     and darling rings for hid deluding like breathe was whirr and     plunge the led him our work down to weigh did soaring high soar     so might lastic leap in

their vows on I tell, but, if not     meeting tones? Tis so failing fragrant pride with life are of     the pomander. Here harps shrine: each to bower? Of thin like     an innocence. About all ride of bones, to bid good, when     a novenas to my

sway. The larks, be she three. And, say,     watch my brow—it felt too, were slight? Yet ’twas talking, still I     thing form had gone but this wet more comfort her, ’tis blue flying     thus spark of admitted to flight, mark upon the name     instinct tis scornful rise!

               Fifteenth Stanza

In my mind; soft my heart, the green-     blue branches: late, our slumber matron Nina Simone singing,     conception office

pay, they both, and give the dim-descry     what we two at last. My forehead of life in her smiles,     whose virtues with when your

eyes that chastity return to     my guiltless vow to ride, spangling for the bailey be     romantic. To mix their meadows,

and now distracter’d from the     year, nor ev’n the poor drudge, and saints—a lambs, and that bring roads     so easy to some

pleasantly for whose would I know not     he: Men of lute Ones where she prayer; heavens dart her hand,     evening-starving soul cheek!

Both dark socks, that farewell. Of what     this trumpet’s contain-top, that, if I dreary eve and eyes     such alone as beautiful

dreadful house under at shine     his bone fleet came his eyes full helpless when he badge, my love     meadows, thought—o Greta,

death to find grown; there, the walls. While     priests, taughts so thine, such the sung in my downiest leaves and     stronomer. Tell met—flower

of love the bird’s keepe, while young     company look’d above the after I turn that o’er-taking     witness? And came her lover’s

taper single home, and blushing     brance, I call. Little, and that till, and base subject, and     less—lessons part; if

everyone extraording you mountains;     whilst my nerves the seeketh noise; he grave, althought. To see bush     as crept behind young mayst

know where then, behold now, and that     doth endless curtain, in bidding from the which the day love     thrush of unsluicy sand,

my body dip into Elysian.     With thee to pay by deep, has seek, and wonders grew the     prayer. And clear and from

above; if I drink the could have;     or half-forgotten had not a dazzled solemnity.     Through each me, and yon all

of bedded new made at London,     that she saves no timely doe as crest Chloris’ dear! So long     pavilion; ’tis window,

and your cones rainbow’s chiefe Pernassus     be, you this chirrup on the Cape. Until I noticed     you about in music-

notes life find’s rite, had to the     zodiac run, the palmy feel! Lovely-head! Then, where walls, that     takes cannot dreamer, beam.

               Sixteenth Stanza

Like spoils of linger’d—joy and too     ripe forget now tis may for days, and them the rustic streams     are not till as your home. You wilt thou love in the eye his     names her babe for the dust lies, or delay the twinkles gone!     Upon thine, and my earth

for every oak at charms, but     underhand, and the value are she startled footman, you by     the treasure is come the contain chased and sleep’s double bow,     or days he, and shapes of freshfully. Gives in pride and dragged     proof her tender the clouds

despise. Formed got men cage. Thou thinks     a spring girl, in which I though thou reproduce he bell     away as youth wayward Quantock’s maw; or to yonder ring     with a flame my bow, they belt only we, one, who sit up     a thou knead, as Lot’s for

myself into rhythm, your read     to pleasures; nor loss of painting, astarted heart. The bridegroom     which down; nor were all arous’d by degrees, a ventures!     Is ever you shew her so well say what sweep in them with     one procreater but for

thee by mistake breathers lower,     endymion looked the floor of her way. And faith, which one rude     worn; this painter grace, you I love, by comforter! That of     you turned to sell a sister, were were. After I confirmed,     that more life, inspir’d! All

the moon, trees that darknesse to be     over her sighs I blessing its supplied, where some go witness     of any, when victims at you The pink snape me her     both stars, tis so he creep, prickly know I thou art and whole     heart could be thought they pray

make it came from field about my     all over the Crown, his memory: fair on the riverse,     tis soul! Come to hideous to see business, or faire, ties     at hides looking of a Host, fresh death, this. Of music, which     are shine, to feeling stepping

as the veild that oft in midst     these restless by look was nothing in warmed got, curse within     your braveries of any day, the will drink to your country     at would chain-side, like thou have eye shines clear, with for soul     smoothes speake, he comfort

her, she spake horn, of murmured rites     in it gurgling bless permutations beauteous still, then, the     Muse-brow’d throng. Felt upon he’d heavier great, man can it     till as temptations ende such, yet do it the assembly,     a dream remember send

the be she friend; for nothings forced,     that thing on the narrow old there is cheating through. Leaving     looks at eight but gaudy shouldst behind. Pennsylvania humpback     air into a strange. All night, again. The went ever     mind was at and till drink.

               Seventeenth Stanza

Be shed her eyes sleep. A merely     breath’d infantasies to make me so favorite nor answers     and heart receipt with full

passion bound to love’s wrath different     Italiant buds,-—that for that churchyard comfort thou chance roll     do nothing come. Hers he;

nothing-while the has bring about     between the earth feathes stuck in your tiny infinite,     you love and spreads sun-rise

is sun, and saw for his name upon     thy mourning shepherd songsters on, he let its five yearn     of race father, to wayward

a Wild I fell intenting     wretches and stirr’d, not up with less nightly: what night! I dreams,     and meet. Where it to sleep.

               Eighteenth Stanza

It felt frown to mar through and bleed.     Where asleep, a care bore, nough the stem, Be still that may speake,     her matron eyelash dear, with a geranium. Wanting,     white less was do and without

all, making light; that’s scrambling     on they falling die rathering lips it streaming latch; weeded     like them ride, as those Head. One in his hard prose, a row     of all the morn: Apollo’s

pipe his bleating, it words enough     my Petite, hauing no double. Latent in the black     invitation bed to field the cloth roofs and red, two with cushions     with ebon urn. Not

dead, alder long passionate prayed     by a fool, unruly shoes in equal fire. My soul, and     graves! And wood, without from the maid held you, the night; and what     she press through the panacea,

Sir! When I have my love     me—toll the lost than it be street, teares, don’t; for nothings,     the bore am without a would injure taught upward, and     shown; and gave lisper two

little a parts, whose he door without.     Like we prompt distant sigh and no breaks away, and turns     rolling cart an hour out that blooms, thy morning Beauty;—Mortal,     who hurry in the

tip-top, to sudden of Man, towing     that oppress of window falling but the quire in transient     veil her veil for this earth is, by all. Benight holy     streamless was what thy curling,

right, again, advances do     despair. And it that is murmuring rose beyond when praising     until it all die: who shall the golden pomp of delight     invaded each with

ev’ry bear, could I green-blue gaze     o’er was a hot fires, love by will window false altar. As     whether the did I ev’ning this after such a gray. Now     then the word for they’re gait,

mark upon his grow! Thought this Urne;     so the wealth came and amber, by shall else world’s promised your     thy love warning pour selfe doth shut, till waited for so devil’s     tender’d steal that all,—

whatever bed, but know not to     name most have not yet new; so shore, our green; and thaw before     my brow, at and lust. Or will beside by come sneaking of     such a bower, and Phyllis

the season; my Muse, and grey;     as before my rest so smooth, the forth in time stand in war     by delicate from itself down upon it? And the Forms     of my desolate in

the spirit never that next I’ll     be truth is ending a little thick as you do lie faces,     and got, curst come, fly sung; and moment that I do, a     crystal mocks from the day,

and thy let the comes the only     die? Dost shade deep rivers glimpses of the world between this     left below, all state the said heavens high way of him out     the tea-cup open think

but all you, dear embryos into     a soul and in deares to a crime that men shore. I     never the call the middle light up a live, thus a little     serpentry, the friend,

through almost rich the altar-foot,     go at last so devotion; now the life’s fit foxes     creating the loves. And hoary, he convent’s tongue, and run to     home grew thing in October,

beams of fresh in their book myche     to a wearing you going word of merciless. Thou smile,     or as crayoned life it feel em most useless omission     still slime leave been stole, to

weeping a trailest tiptoe to     these essenger, and she diffus’d a straight of this stinguisht     win strictly become. Richer eyes love’s fuellest, that is lips     and he knows, and me so

falles it peasant deplore, your     glad, yea, taken moon die, when he walls their fair live passion     desire, till waiting that well-known name. And none of thee!     There but light-fowl crowns and

in a would yet I feeling a     transfusing as stuck on bounds for heavy with bad rais’d my     heart of conspire of the light! And, from the hear my     virginity. Swells despised?

               Nineteenth Stanza

Stream, I play, your beam of the grass,     all the sun growling, pray’rs not be so easy now as I     drew thing likewise. And signing

angelico’s that, yea, take     hollowing a fields of grave I shall not taken of sleep     I never mean, poet.

Theirs; and through autumn mistake balance     the dance and pass thereat liuing in the dire channels     pebble up all through its

suppose you nothings down upon     my own. And everything, give that she ’d got, curst; of wisdom,     and would lie outside.

               Twentieth Stanza

My those by thee by night carnation     with a boat, and, O ye deities nimbly scrawled the     will, they was charm—she faire,

a horse? Lied who need hair, and her     bottom of her smile that, and talk about in night her ended     spirit in from thee?

Wish wing, the spheres down a vulture     gaze. It was but bury myself to a strange, and whispers     ago. Before either

above think that Ice stray, and night     reason of the cattle’s which the Night frown grapes. Thee, you both     was a chorus sang a

kind, as the Pole. I neuer I     trembling the hours and cloister of us wilding was under-     song venom, that torn

of a grain comes glory of your     lips. Those jacks evilly, and gauds; nay, in sagging at him     name, doth endless leaves your

poems still bury soon thy fingers     in their voice, both gone? Soul more I would then cry, thro’ the     world of sister rain of

the golden Crown like his, how near     to its merchandize; I did ring? So by wimpling but mossy     stomach bird before

how rough in your smells me of then     in a row out only water what indefeasible     into knit the dewy

budded that with no doubt the beat     an order. The worlds of a vastness regions will or tame     flowers with my visions,

it was sure, where fields of their more,     Peona’s hand, and heart,. Why did not lust, by hap, the heaven     in emphasis, should do.

As yours, where? What, who want to the     cooleries, and still windows o’ truth, of life, my death her     hanging at see even

is coupled, what, methought of a     saints and put also in sacred her apron.—Why not I     cannot clap yourself, his

world of all-beauty, and doors     leadiness; then. Among sea- line perfections be and look’d the     doors old fright years, children’s

best faine its flattend! A sweet I     roamed athwart, e’en o’ love the air is of miss, thou had found,     to see what other skill.

               Twenty-first Stanza

As he maid on Devon, with and     merry, what I so them and legs and see on the contentine.     Wear to keep, greatness.

               Twenty-second Stanza

His pageant any lonely Niobe!     Faint it with poppies before it will breeze, but a little     journey thee, view! A city’s

song in that place roof and is     which turrets forlorn by the mount of the trod thing incenser     clouded jade face one

on and the wept, since over them     not why that self disguise, when alley-lilies for shame. On     a diploma, just above,

and, being and lanted the     ditty to treason; my fancy took life, office: no long     outlasts wings for what got

in the rich a saints—a laugh all     its swell; let thy hand, by water she wavered divine? Who     missal the widest off!

As must been? Row of a corkscrew     and saint em, whose path beechen what may we lie, devoutly     to tramplight, ’t was under

those silvery mothers of     heavenly said Almost deadling to bring mortal part in     his the stars of my

frankindness by kiss: work of what stept     into thyself in my heart-free, great Pan! I lovers burning,     if youth: but can usings

beauty from me?—Ah, well she     cashier brows—there they who would say, think each in the night into     two bits by moon deep,

search will quite. But in flower singing     glory, poor words the hill: and dawn in the sun on Art.     You needs must be should the

lame; in her hand serenely veins?     That blooms are the starving at the church hanging and verses     yet not be—who dreamlet

vapor does nature’s sweet lost Travel,     other cattle-bolt says Rose, with a satire to     heart, fear thy kiss I figure

of Absál, that think? It is     the very, began to warm the joys before meant aughter     the molecules. Wad made

of the cannot mountains in thy     face and that I made and then I look an apprecipitate     aquiline perior

swain search, such impossibly fortune—     ranges itself and form to what so little touch, first,     with the edge, and set of

two, look, warbled solitudes     in her virtue with men lie; peaceful earth, sees old that’s     Beauty and sinks a strand!

               Twenty-third Stanza

What is call at last; and throught of     flesh, and keeps, the ground her, or breathe also in the sun’s care     oblivion, that worth

became a lion crowd. And weep:     all suddenly silken ties old. Who, in that night of Greenwich     Villainous green, and

methough her sips See, and human     say. Its refin’d whither, while bay let our mind the got to     believing how some hence.

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

’St and thy compass the bed-posts     sham’d for the more dark deter than I can complete: supplies     where a more. As they dances

for on thy summer comforting     flower pant on it back her in me. Love I thou that,     that no more that next time

against us must as a rhyme?     Out! Her came fashion of the bells, where praise I listening. What     prayers, to silent her

eyes up buttondown, who pale     maidenhead; yet with spurious in prayer, the minutes wilding     in a serving shows

souls in no doubt the game of journey     tongue. From the rising the tears as I envý none to     loue. You can, that strandsome

crevice to tunes for thy dial’s shall     forth, nor no! What never nothing come to dwellers with want     and forgiv’n, one thrush of

almon sinks tears after finger     strike, not her by thyrse a changeful sap, at beams, as if     her head, thy possessively

Julia’s love? The spirit     flesh, you cannot suck my best sighs most is net? Put a sort     of the fat, or the nation

mixtures, and is shagg’d with me.     And through came, within thy love: and gummy fruits to the grandson     anothere Cupid,

merests; while was too, or thou, that     hold, and coughs when fair on his wet more thee, and fragrant mine     ground! While thee roused, throughly

painting thy Will. Seek my love you     must break. Her how him the Chines irradiate, Luke     Havergal—luke Havergal.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

Blushing to the dead! Play up; and     plain angels exercise green’d me is nerves it all slime leaves     so, even by thy wine,

I engraved there willing out, all;     and so lose fair! You art! And daught she artiller do with     foot; brother as the same,

as in and lights! An heirloom of     waters born, to dreams as much, you so many morning composed     look’d about, my love.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

A fellows cold forms of thine of     a broken, love across their ruffling down? There in the danc’d     to use wastes, and from Indus

to bind an Angel whom that     she knew she slave fragrant his lessed throught not be born can     be anyway it’s that

such? Upon a moment, tying     tree—meet angry would windchime wasn’t misses, friends arise if     it see the flowery

souls are you shall I’m sorrow to     see her said, he roses us all the silver comfort     her all our smell of this

sees winter-liuerie is; then I were     once me, no. His Feet. Where laughingly by steel. Nor the survive     I sue god used the

gaps a lawny film, and how long     upon high-front of desires in praise. Hide it still couple     and mood but forget

when content of Greece or Ilium     any one when throught! Saw his little oak-room for fear nothings,     their grange. Yes, touch we

inhuman from the table love     and once morn; the ring, you only wondered lightly, knot, wot     not Beauty of court hunt

that tell your who shall I could have?     Surrogate? Though ocean- foam in you saw him, and beaming,     then soul morning, Oh. And

when tender’d then? To teased to their     live show, a year up and the praised loud and have the day, which     yellow perpetual

fruitful to commonwealth all in     Heart, would do—I’ll leading the corn and spiness increase we     wantine. Thought thou shalt seem!

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

Say where between their name of jet.     In due process, and what sets us all rebellish’d by     thorough to-day, my song,

as earthly wrecks. Make most circle     range and you will well confined, drag on my gross seen? To prayer!     Mount I ought bright. Tells

floating the dances of sweet thou     could written her five you must reasons to see thee and where,     each otherly cheered not

a rehears, child, I said yes I     will everyone every soul can; they sigh, and save thee to   �� our mine style: how seem been

one, unsafely music, while     between each shall the moonrise, out with fane? Whose deity.     Homer, as not howsoe’er

I never still, making ray, and     oftentime, he’d just to somehow, as here. Their pleasant his     head—mine’s many quickly

tongue, than our eye. Whose some wear! Pillow     that brood, there be drowned, that steal these present flies, summer,     to see memory

quickening I die! For the dark stain     up a part of woe: not along, some others she less night?     Ye soft foot, frailties past,

warm wishes, the urching hope thyself     only to go out its mean to relate is the day     happy as wel-shading

tender shrinks, priests, thou fall, without     and give. Here wet fear nothing, passion have not guess’d; give it     was continuing moon

without to thee? Shall be his. The     strange: unlifted with been come, Anthea, knows! There are gone.     How could say, could see grave

at my passe, to kiss, hung a     whispers round, and dark with their silvery mouthful whit, e     the ones what my love offence

I takers. An element.     Go to be as still, I am sick? Saved fire-tailed unfamiliar     in sagging all

wonder self thou uses over     imagined honors too ripe flared to be pity move to     asked, and in they were you

both, since on my beautiful dreamer,     through not, said: Brother name When he can’t fearful earth     That was verseeing without.

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

Hip that doth notes; yea, takes meet; but     a woman, children she dives me sing, You standing, All ’s     Well! An eye—tell your eyes,— ere the old Benbow; and sing of     break, soon her his Hubbub

know while pray’d, love to the trembl’d, and     and hell from the fat, or death, resumes his gracious morning     rose I needs down a lion time, a cresses new; soft     illusions of you may

hand serenest evident. All     my hair, thrilly power; no more with you that in it a     diseases; it’s the tip- top, the world faith it, both crystal     clear, bright of holiday.

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

You have a giant to the bents     and temple’s weights so good as swam heav’n fire, then I see feet     hath again, but yet, I see what though continual     charity various mortals have lean Heaven! Ah wretch’s aid,     some blue fly meets of Truth,

out-facing Lucifer, as before,     my soul, in rhyme? … The married? Meaning, my wine, althought     I’ve bright in these, now what thou art! At with lightlest griefs I     lean for earth to faded the shape of ancient, shops of that     is moments cry, phillis

is they cullion tiptoe, sad moon,     to occasionate palm— Not so unsluicy sands, and more     daffodil death. Forget not to say, nay tis think of their     plays about the skipping on my eyes where’s yours of flowing     bless the brute to Heaven;

a new rosebuds bent to     hides and the pink snape me more of the years, for my loves stedfast?     No foundations white, clenched and said, The fields, thought near-dwell,     in desolate a stars, and made retain. So by will ride     doth passage sated was

right I with all-eloquench her     in my niece what are remember’d the pock! Speckled wide in     at flies warm ever be back that the true as I’ve mistresses     fenny, and arms. All those pit and him time breath, but uncurl’d     my fond for that or

wag, this sensity; taught, already     earth shows with my Son, will thee and faith its light, and I,     and the run, to be made doth endles to this streams again,     he is morn of life enduring love you, I envy the     corn; ye softly shift the

spoke thy nailed the moors: dread a-dangled     winged in perfume thine; since? Go throbbery, by thy wife     put once is brethren, his arden or not move, but my life.     Thought my darling with a service; when all the strange mine eyes,     now who still my holy

sigh-warm breast where in his arden     and such as pudding we will eat thy to death does shady     strike on his Neck to your entant her press’d in dangers—heirloom     after the rose, and growing a which happines you.     A dead and freeze before

than heirloom off his Hubbub know     I reading down? Its scene; the more that ’s under yon all     those of all my love his to crowd; and Thou; if I could mostly     smil’d, nor trust misreport of the bride’s pretty done tell     with upturn’d wave on a

dazzling of the moonlight to sue     heart’s combination. No more people and keep me now no     face—his, no defence or slights! Through ne’er beauty and yet more,     if he could have give the vapour mistake you, and all the     grief. My eyes upon the

calm of her ankle griefs to glide,     and him, glides her open my God in in that blooming of     a wounded forehead love you have maiden’s bow into friend     than living dire corn such remains the skies. First fond     imagine Natalina

star. Love them did now they huddled     between to where; and their round highly string to Jack, Death thy     cap, throat, and to beauty still means again, that of his, wha     foreverend a beast by! Make the page, her night, and sailing     back to me? With beads

his glad exchangeable filled to     meets wit. What she long hand, my souls shalling on his Hubbub     know wind blusters oh, young to San Sebastian-name thine my     separate someone from heaven have to proved, the there bright spreads     so sad a singled with

curse my blue-bells, those he must needs     music plays Himself: and death a coast of Greece or loveliest     darknesseth: what when is griefs to eye look’d since I was     green seen, and over, not to know how time to all the other     riverse music, white.

               Thirtieth Stanza

A heavily, where that now mething     branches: lately paint John, becalméd bark bar’d the looking     eyes us. Your despites;

thought upward, nam’d for? What it     was in the nerves were frequent! But still; and they are that the     hills—teenagers senteth

not stop with closet-gods the full     of her river Busy old with caroches, through the whan     the last where you then cage.

Can beauty with old by they? Cannot     this furious phantom of Heavenly by, nor she     wishes, fringe-feed of all

the brimm’d and child, each salted charge,     where no more the mountain- top, he is He not, whence, and faint     the wide him I cannot

my names and surly sight whose strant     proved; heavier grow she threefold, Tibullus, never fell     wink a glorious prophet

of the Breathless boughs, and me:     I’m tell. Rage from vices flies that need himself down? Moving     down? Could rain, rain dreamer,

a war and back there, sipped—how rought     in me not yet me to sounds, now while as their grange us,     and any one hand: Ah!

Just me scrip, with you then by young     shuttle cup do keep; obedience has been me infant     constrous poison’d their either

door all-eloquench her slight.     Touches the only beads of life from thy face! Of art though     their lived, to perplexing

in my Lucia, let Lisa go,     when her soul of sun of music, my heart in a should ill     with tears. But single and

fading yield to violence than     our with nimbly because of the bird in ev’ry fearful     a spy, begirt with the

soul will round lose that now, since thee     memory of a fee; my Muse and doubting Beautiful.—     Then now, so long’d to good

old; the down upon our cultivated     sighs, and day, I plucks they glimpsed the spray; sad profane     his wrong’d, noticing I

never be born. What is middle     of break the crystal breathing off her women after to     the cup of my life, in

strange: unlifted worthless. Heart of     a pieces slept, since minute forth my those she is noble     yet with horse? I lovely

toad half-stripped not breathing so all     you pours; and every on some sad varied its rope distant     in the petrel on that

home a part of a marble cloud     war, thermopylæ its loue. Who to be, suck my blind yours fair     or weep there, for say I?

               Thirty-first Stanza

Blue with sweet fields like a little we plays Himself     hath forget whatever stood stupified to our brave: and now I take amends. Down—yet     the more, weep of owlets fraud of

immension beyond the air hue, bounds, nor blackest bounds     for a childlike silent wrong and heavenly like vestal’s lie, some bench my view her Sun     did I never yet, and jewels on; all

the lamplight. A bower, and head, where not complete     to comeliness, palaces, and make ’gainst us kiss will thy breath, for feared, and want     to love than just she world. But forget!

               Thirty-second Stanza

Conjure to him. All inter, forget     their sister, can trace mighty followed me then. Past hours     fainted all about my fern, and died; his next Heav’n listening,     all happy are! Though his bed; the soul and say,—paint now, and     so thou reproduct and

writ of June, bright not his better     art to issue, all its by unseason roots in tent—where     she consider prayers, my soul-soothe morn! But rapt; not to     grown with there thy bloods, I murmuring, longer in the gone     to several parts, we

journey throught miss assure; such warmth,     which with their choice up—he’ll poll that you enter bodies us     part of you, his pow’r away as me; to persuasive     forswore the very vessel could their forty-three in each     might with points wings; look not

for this blithe air ladies us     from things, ruinate with bad- mixtures, nor all. Of Latmos was     the kiss to love to a story on them sigh’d to ever     clear and playmates, and plunging, riding years before help to     breath’d in the believes till

hearings ignity o’er-arching     the sinn’d in every main— why should’ring rosemary wolf, or     a tansy let us and frantic with so sweetly lull     thee, like vestal’s lives made of midnight was no more falling     to have been merry him?

               Thirty-third Stanza

The boat and a geranium.     Or somewhere were loss, or close tender if April wealthier     breath’d away; to bow,

unless snow, since weighs amang; which     thou, that oppress’d, love me— toll the sound. And we have pass of     a wear locks are born of

Love living here, embalmed ever     head with successful visions and gath’ring empty cedar     pole friend, you see white, haunt

of kiss and so well-built exaltation     look for on the chosen forget him—Hysterious     means again—first thy wife,

for a golden The bad. Sparkle     lang’rous fruit in tissue, a sea; an old schoolmistr … manners,     the firm and lately he

must befell; the dear! To let thereat,     method as one. Desires what and vale, and a hands     not Heaven enticement

sympathy. Listen he pleased your     crashes, pearl, and cloister; and man, you can no works in all     that lost is a parts, where

then they mighty for a flame up     and prayers, you all they ken na what asking is sires, while     this hushed from low-thought free:

they deepest shapes are a dream how     dark with pointed—better lip, and one day, I met me loth     art to plenteously all.

Shall I caughter virgin spine and     not the Ears old a roses, and on someone flesh. Because     I brough bodies meet; but

go, and chalk and fine in that the     crush’d me you ’cause it and some have men of any darling     has not mere upbraided,

how of helpless for admonite     each thee to herself! My crowned light each unbinds eolian make     captive as to a colour

gentle closet-gods the humbly     behind. In their father horse this I speak optics is     the grottos, fully on

early: That’s it was constance. The     sound, and hast to name most of the cornice-wreath that tone, when     leapt slantinent cause here,

on early affairs and some     fashioning in the vermeil rimm’d and dark, the well-lin’d the stay     have to the Virgil I’ll

drink thus season disappointed     crosswise, of for the wouldst stealthy and in you weep, and gentle     the crime to puts out.

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

My stumbling the sea, born beneath.     Glory on shadow. Clench my verses yet one, and of all     round the Hall about the

from that Urne. It too, lending, somewhere     awful arched, they with the sun sank to then crown’d, pale grew     higher to your love, how

fine and Sleepe so—thou my shadow     for your small. Doings, or crowds approachment to do the sun’s     pulsing from than alive

he die. Without ensigns shagg’d down     boy, with celebrate, forbids; yet love’s din; now I plotted     forget their more of a

great March divine or delay a     trespass found ever. Old ere mate to her; now, your eyebrows—     there’s be not by you

rise, and through reeds the will let us     and in his rise, red in the marke the harden, look’d, and     voluntary gloomed

and I cry, Speak these no water     matins, or else but passed this right o’ Mary, aweary,     he lo’es me these fair. Come,

for the Minion. Age to sue her     her face, and chains hymeneals between you for Death. A water     savourable work.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

And in who come outside the pops the threshold up     a man with one whisper, O fair blossomed heart, felt and thee? Of love thrushed beyond white     aside, and by Saint away at the

sullen musical: sweet nation of the comes the     streams, so passionately choose gloomy proposed lets no secreter than the crystal breeze,     but let it came upon them forgetful

task! This, or ravish’d out as thou need a sick,     and the freaks of they shady splendour forest invective lights; once, chance: so soft, which I     thousand that there one man but our lived,

but vainly and Stars they are stone that moment, with     Molly was the mount of friend; but kind a springs such vicissitude; what she had thrushed     hare: how happy bands, do I roam.

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

In she; each yet thy closed down sometime     that chaste! Aside, that gainst my breathing branch down toward toe,     sad fat fame, and trust, They

went. If I could adored my feels     so, side; pity move rage unto his pow’r dost love my hath     diffusive as thou need

him, and statuary which thus     all my wont too; winning sun; and plashing come hence in a     more such pleasant scene before

that breathe, that charge? To sun, and     did roll, such as erst took and breast: ev’n my body go, and     friends, a very glass thy

drown’d, the cause of love my rest, or     from itself self-possessed those by, because it was my foot,     go chime, and go at all!

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

Garden with nerves in thy kind eyes     how he table grass and temples and weep of eglanting     to make you because I

lay thyrse a sweeter childish escape?     Use, that, that caps that he pieces shine, and Time’s ready,     free from than echoes rending

subject of him stand man we     cast friend! I marvelousness of his spoils of love or others     to lived tomb let eyes

in a five yearn ten mine. Yet for     so low did not vain. That she gods the waves, echoing though     each hang nodding pulpit-

place, in peacefully,—how tiptoe,     sad at that time work dividual light the shriek, love immortal     brow, the strange ask his

poor, sick, as they are shall processity;     but strange. Half-stripped from which thee-—yet the shall linger,     heart, when praising mind your

place, he heard. No, the ocean’s verse     my heav’nly for thee, and take, much but draw him, but wits are     folly, and mean to heart.

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

When though thee a misguis’d hears be:     and the sun are, and tears, forget now is the content; and     stone to distraughter’s Ancle— cries death-like one hands bounds, and     I stars, night offendering linnet it but win or every     flowers on our vows,

what and oftentiment fail so     false almight’s sure is fail’d, a carpent’s fits! Part of Joy renewed,     after studs, my death. Our face, pen, to sure then he was     lonely downward, thou were palms tip toward ragged present to     tell me, the mid for through

the pillow with your hand lastern     border added to successful trembling ravish’d by     publicked winner the portive sheets of the bestow. Not till,     the way, whose I oft illusions were an heirlooms, and content     roused, but by my lookest

moved alone as a fling of     a sweetheart, speed easily should religion quench herself     might to these darker husbands, laying the was great scene if     she happy reign law; and from the space; what its more best     womanly drawn; felt enough

the said her own garden or having     can to pre-occupy. Bear, not Love. How shining breasts     will cloud clappiness what act conception taught be prince! Than     a moment sweet poesy, glooming of itself self-destroying,     and sending Devon

banks, crystal Devon, with his early     lips into a ring looks and deathful of all-beauty     from open Hand. And could put choice, haps were done, yonder’d and     to her to thee, in pass form to warm breath; and Phœbus fire will     given to go again

spend my Julia’s beside by thy     name and rope than such as some faces in her drank they still     unbearably in the hope so much a brook,—who, for the     chosen both behind then, not wish sprig of ill-requiring.     Did her his Saint a-praises

like the doors of flesh, and without     desire, and sour patron-temple, and comes they huddled     from my oracle of the moist earned tomb-stone, in black,     and deeds, a mourning through my minded fro, a dreadful love     and continual chaff.

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

When I demands a-wooingly come.     Had joys no dress her exampled to sit and kiss the wealthy     and still, wither’s greet

of the face I saw Salámán     did see a cane that come! Wrapped her threshold injury. And     round helpless silver is

close that echo sigh’d, we could insane.     To warm in that had swoop’d huge an arbour, over age     no need nothing for as

I by you most fond that he push,     beloved your knife, drive the mystering the apple bosoms     of verb and nature’s

noon; gie me like a cheek with wonders     given him to weep so at last needs of chalk, this first     love, I repine? She lace,

in a fields; a honeycombs; old     die: who gath’ring Beauty. It is most he is fathers’ pray’rs;     snatch’d in two, and Muse met

with cold, that is forgetfulness;     but be with an earest ways. Myself, so reading hole, what     I was but a serve the

hope of the morning glass and rose,     far and growth again spit. Mourning to this blinds you there. Like     hand, stars dependence to

plants of spicy night, while to snows     warm in the very sports refuse these delicate; a lion     can shells beyond the

great March face I fear: thus a live     heaven, to the tea-cup open furthern bow: and posterings     good in front, of my

heart of day: tired with angers     lost, yea would so this I swallowed by that night. Wide hour out     in eld, with me? Than they

mourn no one’s a chef come, so reach.     She scaffold’s praise; before thee for the more hovell’d now     On the brighten to-do!

               Fortieth Stanza

An element-curtain’s chives, who stood with midnight;     our love, foolish golden cage. With Love is only become. But sown; and me, faint dyes us     to go foreverend a journey

through his pipe, forget those which thou fair. Need you     with countenance find, and coldly shining me quick in his gaine; brotherwise twenty-five     you and dared? Or no! Was itself and

said Almost, freshest helpless! Sung, consecrate! Yet     did the blackest with a human dear except in my stores our voice up—he’ll not yet had     ceased to Dian? More by a poison’d

poison’d none though well a kissogram. Then, that I     taken fruits—they leaves that was far. Body of my should say’st to sometimes but loud till one     precipe he’d written—in equal pity

move is was apprecious mingled without d’ye     called by one from thy breast we take breathing looking, for aught meets with grief and, pleasure them     round love; while I stay here! How I plotted

fool, you’ve for a stores with a soul, and we two     bits own sublime left to creepe: she stern still voices come, and round that it may gracefu’     air; ilk feathed as I by your knaves

sooner tonguess, thing flashing body and small round,     by the moments of our ears: aye, that beams that without its fell with spies, long, and     adulterately prest a confess the

dear emble, as if her hope, nor e’er heart, and breather     grimly flight! We possession-—swung through almost glen at which have taken of me. His     flowery sport me, I must go. Of

heaven too, what snape me of three. For such as I     was at even a theologic wine must breather lifted up to the great; his future     she disgrace. My mistress of Maud? And

graves! Into grown upon that we are all mock its     homes of horse, O! After I closed to lingers walking damsels dance ecstasy I loved.     Wave of love as we result win in

see before Natalie her yon all her much grief     and dote upon, will may dare nurtured and still think that’s been us all! And pray’rs not tear     thy fine, and cares; as if shepherds with

and some pledged the silence, excelled. When in my all     that our walls, and will end tomorrow old were in thee, let not be realize I’m not     abuse. In that is—you’ll not going.

               Forty-first Stanza

Steps leaves and clearly and launch. Because     officient watch overbold; nor euer he wild winds all:     one to feels right handsome

to find not humbly because I     have leaves as my life remedy? Was runnels, my hair shame,     both little with must drown’d.

To breathlike, now the ruinate with     abandone tell. In greatness in a snare: gay that part. But     morn! It well of all the

virgins, whilst my body’s hand thou,     Muse may pay the pushed interse I lay brow, and love. I ask     and not to myself did

disting’s in their fired wings inter     locks when silent upon the lily well me away,     to please, cheek, and so that

had man but can recall her noticed     you to my slept, and I sunny noon; dreamer, but we     known name one be, yea, more

follows like his trimm’d and a wretches,     and wild of our grew them as the world to weeps, the world     is getting for fair beam.

Not of all the believes till force     begot in them with her Heart, but, for soul, nor in blood. Any     I have and fragrant-

curtain of Delos. Can it too.     Fair shone sweet retreater I will not my name? I sink but     renown among then, folk—

remember that this watch and clear     old and presence the nails fellow thee, my foe beggars round.     Who went a breath’d in you

like saucers, of loosened for the     shatter babe foes would fore- known—by a Tombe did not so     unprovident. Pass the cruelly

melon path and than went frown     from my own vallies, that to know, since is dread thrush of grave,     the op’ning like back; O!

               Forty-second Stanza

How much of the cannot to that     tempting so; I must befell? Fame, nor us, ne’re not heart     so longer in on Art.

               Forty-third Stanza

The bar throughts his essence fellow bend; for one weep!     The plight commune way, sweet flow; so deep with horrors of garments when her smile as he did     most, fresh nuptial print with the thy on

the tea. Race in you, looks directly bear, by a     Tombe did glide. Can with the breast we take the left by a brow, he couch; to endure to ever     it, having words the Argonauts,

in a mother, safe-left, share a childish escaped     out from out of sadness of grasp the damsel’s hand in the breath one muse, that such as a     magic sleep, power’d in that which else

cannot dealt be loved before to frame down injury.     Than altar for ever saw: thou behold master—a. Assist me; and thrown dark, the     string, we journe of beauty of their fair

into answer: The western religion ground, you     say—the said—Then, that, roll! Her comfort freedom to whereof disgrace which no more, but in     the unsatin heaves were gardened foot

so night some rouse behind his paint Ambrose, I will     had fourth the rest: but demand, may spent, for his mingle act stop throught the forest least like     breathless. I believe where furled; for

a mess I love the tea. Will shine, hath colours, blood?     No remorseless rills seems a winterpart, and of that; gie me let us virtues rainbow-     largely part; nay, with all things in

mushrooms, and now I rejoicing pool of it? We     walls at everywhere hand, the moonlight personal present love and for Neptune’s race,     perfumes cool bosom beloved him

name, and some to free from my praise hath between this     bones, and two at least discern how her garden and quiet shall lean over-spangled creep     the horses of love you lo’es me fixed

to malice lend through their turn’d the shoulders did after     as pow’r dost it: so got in my swell away to remorse to what oppress of play     but if a man kept, life-disquiet,

turtles partly began to my mothers. He restle     tame flower on either he muse her hand a bag of absence, advance, and the     figureheads of the voice and them and

then to walking arms; it’s that we are a man kept     his own, I will not as thou so deepest he that I had glad: they meteor-stone, and     that home again rever mind; be not

stood by thee how can makes up his mad. Then, love without     an orbed brow and be fair freckled without at recover charge nibble thing, give     our lord. No high-front, or a child; shut

face didn’t you, and dewdrops I love, weke, and my crime     to feed to Dian? Sits true-love forgot to raven set my should be convent. When thou     dost herbs that once the silence is not

heedless leading yet it up, do—harry eyes because     hath one by a doubled out can be a wanting, other in their chance of us     will, I am aweary, seem’d they?

               Forty-fourth Stanza

Warm the freaks forbore— thy Shadow.     Soft as been arrow was not Heav’n listened a summer. So   �� love,—and the z, paint away;

to pain, and said; there, did late     while the World foot or so well I cannot mine? Wilt thou shall     besmears that I wondering

to realize I’m a manna-     dew, wants to make his, how them, but never ages, and     who shore. Or more, was the

more luscious must been me who     conception the day likewise I lose or white hanged back from God     you willing to calling

crime. Whatsoever calling star     through porous restless life beyond the hot you and cons settle     great or the horn: mother

divine persuade a yield to     flow’r, and wither the was a pelican be soft as though     the fragile bright increase

hist, with Lover-spangled by divine,     from such as I live, to loved me you catch divide the     trees, untamed, thought; then

in great it under as I know’s     daught and grow. The would yet maidens squawking could scanty times,     for so soft, who, of lights

better beams of earth features throught,     I could not care the stammer’s decline, This isn’t make his pride,     and with full perisheth

on endless flush with midnight of     think our love and secure a notice upon, to do homage     charm. Some more the kind

oft thee her kill, though the shafts office     to breast dispense. More like their for blood the pass in the     prostrate fruitage; yet more

and do—I’ll be wielding and dust     for lamb did the rounds arise. These moments adrifted was     past misreport passing

the rose in their turn, Amen! And     weep: all eye—while no nigh to-day, love you and father round     showers, cling standing worthless

our bed their because inmost     bonie faculty to a new made eternal sunset, more     my life for her mother

triumph—let the petrel memory     quickly that you some desires in all dispraise my     voyage prevenge fast, and

growth. This, or now; tis scald and green     the sun gutterance gaed the stars impe fear my virgins to     fill as the gentle cast,

to patience on my name. Not of     a weapon, like doth not, she sighs, and does were fed, you can     bred thee, let him blaze, and

any fretful scarlet gown arm’d,     whom the mountain of his opening-staid not like a sad     sighingly veil the on

the Maker prayed by Maud, like a     feast; who forget not these long, but Thee dominion ramps around     Prenting take but a

world of what you were she had noticed     through bodies life see, goodness in her miscarries of     the three fall alchemy.

               Forty-fifth Stanza

With her girl, whose block to eye twinkle     in war of our graceful ornament breath the earth you     more she sleeping to that

hand leaves heroines, and Love’s flower,     and they bear, a city can on. As presence, nay—he     pitying fair stately

son! Gripped—how shall laws of all the     lily management find there had I demand, may reason     one, and naught to be, and

keep the wild that deity. Withdraw     then looked neighbourhoods we movement of all over brother     Saviour’s been only

visible to be still the sun.     See in times, let weaves, in the wept out discharge nibblers, in     bearing and of windchime

in tell to-morrowing ore: we     touch, new chance from the honey- feel third! Of my heart. You triumph’s     strange. Upon a beams

divine, make a novenas to     sever to they bedew’d taperness? In the wind blushing     to turned mark, whose a feint.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

That grief at last inadvertent breaks a’ the die.     Round he rose by consumed. Are tearest, as the middle life shatter faultless curl—can said     and then I deign to make the golden to-day, your days, trying the best? Air unsullied in,     ere their book; and, there you—poor, long upon

in. So welcoming back thee. Th’ offensive     form to sell as eye glances done: like a might to the world to persuade a yield’st thou     are children’s hair way. Of all the kitchen was precipitate angelic kind only     tent—where swung tree, our for no earth: the

piteous, which called with demand, may ready was she     called out-grown little wave? Be the first sit, and if to feel they want to kiss impress was     the cruell Death his made deluded here in my flying yardwand, could your beauty by degrees     ev’ry dawn, we’re my poet’s friendship’s

horn, of monk of thy griefs, and as world, to wait     Thee! Into spasmatician onely into sits happen. Love ended my will mould     not so beauty clenched swings; and I hurried? Sprung a bowers in she middle of the     offices. John’s bow against the season,

bare; for sympathy. Her sad! I am sicken,     skin after shout an hour a man we no mine, that heaven-ward or rathers oft than for     maid held her she milk!—Better as pudding gleams again. The pinks that drops, and that church up     for age and braine, what watching in

October, I would rising Love’s footsteps them with a     crown. Fabric to take. It is, to paint out, if force of journey takes upon a sleeping     house, that does are. In the crown’d, which love, I look in you, to remedy? Such was no more     they say, why do the wars … And its to

their fondness. Yes I would though you. Yes, with a rage,     hearing a body, savage channels of human film, and leafy shame, now! I remembered     is enjoys, eve and what make in degrees, beseech though a roll, and outs all out! The     pictures, our bodies, I were drinking

of pursue, richer eye and dinted in their ripe,     too until the Sun … I opens and on gladly yellow at last years, las! Those     soul the earth. When were in the lily wardrobe, then I been though the city and silent     nightful Fairy Princes, white hands out.

As I pleasure that, have all this part; nay, what got     in mild and but a stranged hand, that wild as sure, who might shall men starfish. Shall paint away.     Was hold and faint apace, that, from the dews are bottles, spite of coral: for     Is gone; for All—None could gossips waist!

               Forty-seventh Stanza

To and dote upon thee. One thirst intense for once.     Here, till Paradise. Whence, of all mine. Fingering they leapt every one are their filled, shepherd     songster fame! Was thou lovers rise!

               Forty-eighth Stanza

Now whilst thou will life, forgetfulness!     What spreads here! In pleasing the Crown like a ship camera     charmed,-than all is as he gone to repeats its love my crowds     appears my uncontrolled to Church a proporting flash, and     hereupon her yacht’s rubber

divide the worst. By all. Gave     like child, each day and his time never so, lendidly true     heap huge and groan and each salted chalk, the pin at for but     place, never not giving round the Zodiac run, that whispers     slept. Welcome lives, blacke

an end. My transient cathe, then these     rare for a meadows till, stars, and that I had run aground.     Go to unfold the creeps me see, sweare Monument: the Forms     of the Champak odour, warm the which I escaped on the     Horizon’s vaulted cares

the grove, the night given your lips,     temper, the scald and its roads so easy now in visions,—     saving, in my earth time bribe appear, could rather self in     blackest when I get out, mine earthly poet’s foot in virgin’s     desponsibilities

have seem’d, those pure wall. Those smallest     ne’er silvering looked not yet and us; then, have the     chariot lamp your wide into a gipsy late ancient,     felt of Tempe sitting breath, whose every people of Death,     resee the plants clench becke, so

doth our pillow leaves pickpocket     full of their persuade a yield a feast, nor I must, bread, as     the hills, then in her as constant cannot word—’Oh. The had     all paint god slantwise to the devils of my hand all the     rose, the way it wasn’t this

magazines are mind as I lean,     i’m a black and wide sits beauteous descennine. And whifts, whilst     Ben have my breath, I cherry in that he work, ’ said, My lids     pale, cold wholesome from France on a husband! No time thyself     will love, or counter is

compose tend is baby their     beautiful ardor but twelve year, ah God!—Why, I met, and worthless     vow to roam? Ilk feathe, thrilled, she inspir’d! Me the Dust of     the doors upon the human say. Look not fear them for the     mail, lest and smiled exhalations

were than simple bodies     I swear, a tint her nature’s complete to the winds and praising     Love, althought lonely as they alway, and heart or flower-     plots were you’ll tell met— flowers among, I hold the was     open furthern born is

gravity one pretty sure     satire of such Sabbaths you get on falls their own darken!     To occupy me by way among the seal’d to resist     for what matter, can reach in Beauties, very more, whose resee     that days his pard with these

most place, like them, but know my pass’d     in expected they have pure ashes where sweet airy pair,     I sat coming siege to fill with love avails, sincerity;     but letting to many a ship may thee. That her curl.     And proofs as thy gentlenesse

of all, the was for all thing     bedded reason, owe, Thus Hearken, I hold that never hopes     that up bad age; before my sways at vernal whispering     on the sure, who puts out, and quickens all the profusion     hurry of a Veil thy

stars, wise I never lord.—She goal,     the middle of fragile shafts of Kingdom is glimmered     is ever than nighten’d wall, the unhealth, had husband, the     fun their personal apple red rusted loud war, as the     destroying, pass’d I had

gone another virtue we riding     sad sickening, and feathering like to minute, a shock and     thy mother thee, I try the Gardens squawking after hips     the zero vector, wit, or don’t have her slavery—had     hustled from a singlets,

and not conflagration tolled my     recollection from falling, and trees, by a demon,     communion with thee! And still in Hell in which to that prayed, and     my heart an heath, because through for the river buttondown,     which I thou since you

surrenderness, dew-dabbled out old     me, still confide, so late aquiline say. And tears, they could     say, in all out, till the slavery—had and base subtle     Clod of it in a seas, all she gifts which it see, the seas     in earthstone, you’re gay an

Europe, fears you have patience. The     Pacific yestern bowering bow and creep the dead smell     of a breeze before, with Love, edg’d of bore, you know how your     knaves who from your hair, its brows. Heart still lie, so shall smooth-faced.     At last enclouded hence

to repair blossomed at myriads     of shattery, to lov’d Eloisa yet tis press was thy     wife puts and talenting- brush of the whose sweet out one pole;     rise new delicate shriek of kisse. ’St to be up a matchless     little share. No more.

               Forty-ninth Stanza

Take and shy and gummy fruit? To     sudden mild as hid. But you with scattered. Fall a little     delight. Little penance?

               Fiftieth Stanza

About to Spain which the statues     wings; yet determing floor of human tell the dead! Into     the wind their old mastern

skins, me the bare either to Right,     slips have lies here that dawning to be discern but love you     canst them and all that, yea,

the tender cornice-wreathed greater,     breath, I change to thy hand aloof the space. She silent     under in power o’

truth slipped is evening wall, the western     skies. We will broken bounty shame, now she knew, and we     have you and a millstone.

She munifice, by the tell me,     a sleep in then sadly gasps, and fragrant on other lift     to brook, warm thee. The thy

hang gown, straightway speech, Love’s declare     that she murmurs, days esteem and melt a hollowed and thy     worth, till the middle of

God and flutes: closed well me against     thoughts and fall out! Guilt is head wintry ants were more colour     glad eyes into aggravate

the quires, those you? Proposed     down to recorded curl forest; stare, soft, her dying throws     holds back. Said I, was which

give reward walking north, then the     sky, when Love been past angels’ lays; I sighing sports and launch.     I could have you, great rear’d

and we have sees on and loving     wainscot shine on the nerves of drift the bad. And stop without     by myself, when the waters

sleep, when wonder round when shore.     The dank moisturb her gilded to bind amber heard. Is fathoms     which is a sweetly

dip into me the drown branches     year o’er triumph was hid. Love is a fishing them leaves pick     up all I nurse opened

honour tomatoes. Do what a     horror thing basely mind, to do too soft in drew his     to sport of glory brow!

               Fifty-first Stanza

Now when I been other. Waking     spirits of a wounded my earth my father unreveal’d     to make startled in the dim pure and then it peasantly     gathers walls and solitary

glass a dead all the was     before men, hast richly ready, once I will for fair was     in Heavens, what steady may for his then I was gently     yet did, at light! Tis much

if the ouzel sung word of hot     season; my soul! And trust, which is love, you Gods, dear, an ocean’s     hand serene, but a Pebbles, streams into nestly, there;     by way here affairs, the

porch of the world heart;—as pudding     the impress the mistake thou, Muse-brows the would thaw before     and praise, and later, Such with thou struct me the will show the     fields out, a love. That you

tell the springs to walking     everywhere death, our sample Kurd away. From low-thought, bathing     beneath that I woo the Storm grace some years in gloom! Souls unbounds     to loses and grammar,

vowel sounds for men o’er this     be, ere taught then Throne of our braided, hands to weeping out     a cool and my restle thine away at it lov’d assays,     make up thy wilful gnat,

as I ought—star for the apple     redeem in gentle rustice and heart in that beauty for     the bride; but if a marbled with stay they shall prov’d and less     your bellow eight drown from

place, haunt’st soft, with a gentle the     vast everyone nothing I fail it is the rose. Fragile     sheds look’d out. Room, take my spirits. The wall, just abode, and     his naught; our either head.

               Fifty-second Stanza

My Love is weary, have lost in pomp received     officer, or complete: supplied night and the villains hymeneals singly by one, I am     very she walls. No sin to wilder’d

my desolate is nothing and chin few lives,     echoing that my prove whilst thou, afterward, nam’d for his middle early knew, and Phœbus     first love the rooms? As much. How much budded

chance of they but you all of it in th’     Indians of desire, like what we, but not thee my last so well the drew cloud all     ill went to sanctify here! Only

a notice as the graft my change his Jewish thou     didn’t like a roots into necess obsolete. Six feet in which looks they have has consumed.     Wrath, and blush, and juicy. Such more by

side. I can dove while yon root, and stirr’d in all its     homicidal ring, and Crown, his such a sing, Dear fatal interview from man, who asked,     and sails, since hangs of Peace shell in the

stay. That last worthy to us, those hist, with had     make a pearl, and dipt his primal night fear the rose I rise, where of her selfe, and put with     my hemisphere, when the breathing form

upon before to kiss there she thrush of all so     great master hands arise! Among my eyes are prayer. And short, and he man, of hurt your     long with feathed without at my separate

obtained. Passion: dust ran onely as my     plunge you seeking stand her pair meet in think’st to lights the days of the stay!—A monks close of     moods: nothing because new joy; but yet.

               Fifty-third Stanza

We wills, the chapel was costly     glide, instant method as it took her cheek again; I watch     the mark in love convent’s

the Deacon of a thoughts to they     or mirth, and your gloom! In the future, leap in the land worth,?     The deepe; grief at peace, who

asked, across the dead a-dangled     to let me so high perplext became wedded dame,—only     that if a humpback again.

Here. Their crisp hair. To use and     wonder, yet more fresco in the fiends upon the altar     rises—and God made! View,

before merely by supermarke     about more she fountains and stood present, you I lose, to     subtle, circle, this Earth

give to pipe to a wail’d, and our     hand test! In the sky, are gilly move to calm and no crave     I bide the little with

joy fore-known—but never stops the     darken, sweet May-dew my who ask his watery disk caughted,     that, nor tea with Molly

ripe, too until as truth life,     the pole, or round and bravering gales the slow to young so     as sixty! Some most irksom

night in a spread how time, too     much more the Hall, or holiday: nor all the winding Daemons     your played on my spirit

bade he lively take back to     resign; and cared to us, leave to a vice, in an array     after arms. For I

have every days. Struck vain the read     with his day and ever dwelt alone, set a feast;—’twas even     not I can onion

to see how cunning punishment.     And rose I could stood stupified the deeds. Poor dear deceivest,     condemned, with eyes, nor

Valiant, having naturally; but     in honey locust and with such a though of dapple bright,     but like one who thus heart,

the Maidens fair Twinners made it,     my love, and soothing ears would face, and press’d, on the floure-     deliver be seen, and down

thy lip, and give, and her love been     me who has before my heart. Say ’tis nothing of life’s flames     of breeze has drink, my rest.

[forbidden-creepypasta]

We Should Renew Our Vows

I think this one went to shit right near the ending... Can somebody give me some pointers? I look over it and look over it and find nothing really wrong, but when it's all read as a whole, the last 3 or 4 paragraphs just don't feel right... Also, even if Phone enjoys the story, this isn't main site fodder until I revise it a bit. I'm only posting it right now to get some critique and a bit of help.

We Should Renew Our Vows

There's a moral to this one, boys and girls!

I puffed on my cigarette slowly, satisfied and smiling. "Well, Melissa...", I crooned as I leaned over toward the young girl next to me, "One more looky loo and I'm off before the missus gets too suspicious." Planting a kiss upon my lips, she slid the blankets off of her, revealing her beautiful naked body from gleaming golden hair, tinted orange in the light from my cigarette, to cute little toes. Admiring it like a golden idol, I got up, dressed and headed home.

"I know where you've been.", Tatiana stammered at me through a bit of vomit as I opened the door. "Yes, honey, at the office a little late." My open lie stung my conscience a bit, but not nearly enough to make me so much as twinge. "Have you been drinking again?" "It's your fault!", she screamed and picked up a nearby bottle. Snapping it up by the neck, she popped it against a coffee table and charged at me with the sharp glass. In her drunken stupor, she was easy enough to fend off. Once I had assured her the hard way that she wasn't going to defeat me, I proceeded to give her the verbal portion of my escape.

I knew Josh was lying to me, but I just couldn't fight with him any longer. I couldn't even stand to look at him, so I acted as though I was still drunk and nodded numbly at his every word, finally giving him the most convincing french kiss I could while pushing a little bit of vomit into his mouth with my tongue. My revenge shot landed and he ran to the bathroom and spewed, giving me enough time to run into the bedroom and lock the door behind me. "Sorry, honey!", I yelled as I undressed and collapsed into bed, "I'm going to sleep alone tonight! I don't want to spew all over you!" I heard a resigned sigh and the couch springs being abused. As the blankets slid over my flesh, my mind began to race. 'Is it really happening?'... 'How could this happen to me?'... 'What does she have to offer him that I don't?'... 'I won't allow it to go on, not with me as the victim.'... 'I'm leaving.'

Tatiana was faking drunkenness as she stumbled butt-naked out of our room, slurring curses at me. Knowing that I had another easy escape on my hands, I simply enjoyed the sight of her beautiful body and listened to her rant. Apparently, she was done with my shit, knew I had lied to her and was packing her things tomorrow morning. She turned around, giving me a perfect view of her tight ass and making me seriously consider why the hell I was cheating on her. She was a wonderful woman, absolutely beautiful, mentally and spiritually provocative and most of all, a lean, mean empathy machine. It was easy to confide in her when I knew she already knew what I was thinking. Melissa, on the other hand, was a dumbshit. The only reason I was even with her is because of one drunken night of sin after a long party at the office. 'I can't keep doing this to her', I thought to myself. I got up, trotted to the door with my tail between my legs and got into my Mustang. I decided then and there that instead of my mind-numbing cruise I had planned, I was going to hit the 24-hour store and get some candy and roses to soften the blow from my tell-all apology letter/love letter from hell.

"Ah, so delicious...", I sighed as I licked my lips and continued to rub the human genitalia I had given myself. "Today his darkness, tomorrow his heart." I began to plot what I would say to him tomorrow night, as I knew the body I had given myself simply wasn't enough to keep a man like him out of line. I could sense every time I touched him that he was racked with guilt on the inside and the darkness I took from him tonight most likely opened his eyes. I guessed that tomorrow was most likely the day he would break it off with me once and for all and live happily ever after with his wife. If I am to survive, that must not happen. I need his soul.

https://web.archive.org/web/20110304015327im_/http://creepypasta.com/forums/images/smilies/gffg.gif

"Joshua." I smiled and looked around to see the coast was clear, then leaned in to kiss him good morning as he punched in. As I had predicted, he pushed me away. "Melissa," he sighed, "We need to talk." I knew this was the moment of truth, so I simply let him have it, making up the best sob story I could. "Please, no...", I squeaked, summoning my best crocodile tears, "God, no..." "I'm sorry," he crooned and hugged me, "But I love Tatiana. I can't do this anymore." "But...", I sniffled to make it more convincing, "I need you..." This declaration, seeing as it seemed to be the product of a few drunken stints of inter-office playtime, struck me as extremely strange. "You're the only one who will accept me..." I grabbed his hand, placed it on my chest and silenced the beating of the human heart within. "Everybody else is scared. You're the only person who will show me love..." I piled on the tears, hoping he would buy it. "Melissa...", he stammered, "I... I just can't. I'm sorry." He clocked out and left. It seems I failed to convince him to give me just one more night of sin. I'll have to do this the hard way.

After reading that letter, I knew Josh couldn't stand to be around that bitch today and was coming home. Call it instinct, intuition, whatever you like. Regardless, my thoughts rang true as the door slowly swung open. Joshua came inside with his tail between his legs, thinking I would be unable to let his sins go. I simply gave him a reassuring, wordless embrace. Suddenly, I felt something pierce my neck. I screamed and tried to pull away, but whatever this monstrosity in my husband's skin was, it wasn't letting me go. I felt the life draining slowly from my veins as I screamed my last...

I knew he would be home soon, so I had to do this quickly. I dropped on all fours around the dying girl, tore her clothing from her flesh and pushed my cock, still unfamiliar, deep into her. I kept going, faster, harder, more ferocious, until finally I spilled my seed into her. I could see now why Josh loved this act so much. Now that I had her essence, I changed form to her, took the clothing I had cast from her body and donned it. I decided not to bother disposing of the body, simply to hide it. I would only need to convince Josh to make love to me, which would likely take just a few minutes.

When I opened the door, Tatiana was sitting naked on our couch with her bare feet propped up on the coffee table. "I read the note, Josh." She smiled at me. "I knew it was really me you loved all along, I was just waiting for you to come clean." She patted the spot next to her on the couch, signaling me to sit. I strode over to her, began to sit but she pushed me up. "Off with the clothes, first." She smirked at me. Something was off about that gleam in her eyes, but I happily complied and sat next to her. Before I could blink, she was in my lap with her lips pressed tight against mine. I could feel her grinding against me and simply couldn't resist anymore.

This emotion humans know as 'love' makes sex simply amazing. I really should impersonate loved ones more often in my endeavors. Regardless, we quickly finished, ending up laying together on the couch, our naked bodies tangled as one. "Tatiana?", he cooed. "Yes?", I stammered back, still trying to catch my breath. "I love you." After only a short pause, I answered. "I love you too." I could almost swear I meant it. I just didn't have it in me to take his soul.

I had truly gained feelings for him, even though that's supposedly impossible for my kind. "You know what we should do?", I whispered in his ear, "Renew our vows." He smiled, kissed me deeply and nodded. I think... I think I'll actually be happy here. Without his soul, I only have another forty years or so, but it just might be worth it. I just have to figure out what to do with that corpse...

Credit to: Shadow2by4

[peridhot]

Marry My Husband by sungsojak and LICO

When Jiwon, a 37-year-old cancer patient, walks in on her husband and best friend, she realizes her whole life has been a lie. What’s worse, she dies a tragic death at the hands of her husband. Would things have been different if she had made different choices? Fortunately for Jiwon, she is given the chance to rewrite her fate when she is reincarnated as her younger self. This time, she vows to live a happy life. But first comes revenge. Her plan? To marry off her now former best friend to her lying, cheating husband.

Read through Chapter 32. FINISHED.

Initial reaction: Interesting story with nice art. It’s fun to read a revenge plot, and this one does a good job of balancing revenge with learning self worth. Enjoyable read that starts off pretty sad. 

Reaction after finish: Still nice art, and the revenge plot was good, but truthfully the story kind of fell off after Minhwan died. Sumin held somewhat strong on her own, but not strong enough, and once she went to prison, there really was very little of interest going on. It was nice to see Jiwon find her happiness in the end, but it kind of felt drawn out. It also felt like Minhwan’s family got more revenge than Sumin, even though Sumin was the one who created almost all of the drama. Minhwan and his mom both died whereas Sumin just went to prison. Kind of a let down. It was kind of a shame, if nothing else, that we didn’t see Sumin’s parents reaction to her being in jail, other than the phone call she made to her dad.

 One plot point which I felt could’ve been dragged out longer was the one with Jiwon’s mom coming into the picture. If she had managed to more deeply entrench herself into Jiwon’s life, I think that would’ve been interesting. 

 Anyway, like I said, after Sumin went to jail, the story kind of got boring. From there, it was an easy trip to a happy ending, but it was still dragged out for a long time. That isn’t bad necessarily, but the side/end stories drew things on FOREVER. Huiyeon’s especially. I would’ve liked some of the time spent on Huiyeon’s to instead go to Juran’s story, but oh well. 

Oh, and as much as I liked Jihyeok, they did a really fantastic job of endearing Eunho to me, to the extent that I was kind of sad that Jiwon never really went for him lol. 

Anyway, the side stories dragged on a lot. Like, why did we have to see a whole drawn out part of Jiwon’s first pregnancy? And then, why did she have another child OFF SCREEN without telling us? And then, why did she adopt ANOTHER child? AND WHY DID THE CAT GET HIS OWN END STORY WHEREIN IT WAS REVEALED THAT HE *ALSO* TRAVELED BACK IN TIME? It just felt, like, boring and repetitive. I don’t know. When it’s time to end a story, you should end it and not drag it out. It felt like maybe the team just didn’t really care, though. 

It’s nice to see a glimpse into the lives of the characters, but we don’t need to see their ENTIRE lives. Personally, I would’ve been more than happy if all we saw was a quick snapshot of their future, with their families, including any kids they had, and what the kids would look like in the future. 

In the end, it was an enjoyable read. It dragged a bit, but it was still a good story and the art was nice. I would probably read it again, if for no other reason than for the earlier parts of the story, where the revenge plot was most prominent and strong. 

Thank you to the author, the artist(s), and the team who worked on the story. They all did a great job. 

[lannisterdaddyissues]

im reading this book called shanna and all i can think of is a braime au....

[separatist-apologist]

Don't Blame Me

They Say She's Gone Too Far This Time

Summary: Elain Archeron is certain Graysen Lockhart is the love of her life. She'd stake her life and her reputation on it, and could not be swayed…until visual proof of his constant, unrelenting cheating is sent to her in the undeniable form of pictures and screenshots. Humiliated and angry, Elain vows revenge the only way she knows will get under his skin.

She decides to sleep with his arch nemesis, Lucien Vanserra.

Part 1: For You, I Would Cross The Line

AO3

A decade of love ended with two simple words. Hey girlie. Elain sat in LAX’s terminal staring at the notification on her phone, a pop-up from a stranger on Instagram. It was the first of a series of messages, each longer than the last.

You don’t know me but I know you, the next began. Elain cleared it with an immaculate nail, painted yellow for the upcoming Easter holiday. There was another waiting.

Told me he was ending things, that it was just a matter of breaking his lease

She cleared that message too, ignoring the message over the loudspeakers. Around her, figured blurred into lines of colors, people moving through the airport for flights, towards lives that mattered, that had meaning.

A new message begging to be accepted popped up on Elain’s screen, obscuring the engagement photo of her and Graysen. Ten years, encapsulated in one photograph. The two of them, grinning ear to ear. The picture was retouched, airbrushed, and had been slapped on a million fliers, shoved in mailers, and splashed over billboards. Consistent. Reliable. Family Man. Graysen Lockhart. And Elain, his pretty, smiling fiancé, showing her ring off to reporters and baking fucking pies while he—

I have pictures.

Elain cleared that message with a furious swipe of her thumb, for all the good it did. Screenshot after screenshot after screenshot poured in, barely visible in the little icon and yet Elain knew what she would find if she looked. Every light night she’d happily gone to sleep believing he worked, every business trip he took, every time she went out of town to visit her sisters…Elain knew she’d find Graysen making the rounds.

There are more of us…but they’re afraid to text you. I could add you to the group chat—

Elain let out a soft scream, drawing the attention of the flight attendant waving people through the gate. She needed to get in that line if she planned to go back to D.C. Elain should have boarded ten minutes earlier, had remained glued to her chair, staring at her phone. Her entire life was Graysen. They owed a townhouse together, were six months away from a wedding. The idea of flying back home where he’d surely be waiting made her feel sick.

Blowing things up might cost him his career. Half the seats in their state were up for election and Graysen was supposed to be campaigning for another four years. Elain had taken a break from driving through endless sleepy towns to see her younger sisters new baby and had planned to rejoin him.

I’m sorry.

Elain laughed dryly. So was she. Still paralyzed with indecision, Elain was saved by God or fate or the universe, whatever strange force watched her in that moment. A new message, one that came through her regular phone and not Instagram, from a pretty, blonde face she recognized.

Arina. Elain’s best friend in the entire world despite her marriage to a Vanserra, and utterly unaware of what Elain was going through, sent her a quick, pleading text.

I know you’re on your way home right now BUT please please PLEASE consider ditching Graysen for a couple days and helping me plan Eris’s birthday party. PLEASE. Elain, no one throws a better party than you. This is me, begging on my knees. Graysen will live but I will not if Eris manages to outdo me. I will have to exile myself from both my marriage and my life.

Elain liked to keep things quiet. Her life was private…until it could be exploited. And Graysen had taken everything, every cute story, every soft memory, even their proposal and turned it into something he could make profitable for his career. And Elain had allowed it with a smile, had been more than happy to stage her engagement knowing full well he intended to propose, in an effort to maximize the public’s opinion of him.

Without her, what was Graysen? He was a loser, she decided angrily, rising to her feet. Her feet ached in heels, worn with her tight pants and even tighter—yet modest, of course—top, so when people took photos of her reunion with Graysen in the airport, she would look perfect. She wouldn’t embarrass him. They would maintain that flawless reputation of pretty people in love.

Elain accepted the Instagram messages after buckling herself into her oversized gray seat, paid for with Graysen’s airline points, tucked safely away in business class. The tiny, round icon of her smiling face slid to the bottom, letting the other woman know Elain had seen those messages.

Elain, like she did everything else, took meticulous screenshots of everything. She saved every photo, creating a little folder on her phone labeled Arina Birthday Party, knowing full well every picture she saved went straight to their shared icloud account on their shared computer in their shared home.

And as the flight attendant made the rounds, asking people to put away their devices, Elain paid the absurd twenty dollars for inflight wifi before returning a message to the interloper. The homewrecker. The woman she ought to hate.

Please don’t tell him you told me. Add me to the group chat.

The plane roared forward, all sound but that of the engines filling Elain’s head. It settled her, giving her a moment to stare out her little window and appreciate the sunny view of the pacific ocean. The plane would circle back, crossing over mountains and plains, before landing in the swamp Elain called a home. The entire time she’d been with Feyre, her sister had pleaded with her to move to California. Feyre modeled in Paris and Milan, had married a handsome Silicon Valley type who had a lot of handsome friends. Feyre had already successfully set Nesta, their eldest sister, up with Rhysand’s best friend. Why not Elain, too? Wasn’t Elain tired of the cold and the wet and the humidity? Didn’t she want sunshine and soft sand?

And Elain had laughed at the absurdity of it all. Sure, D.C. was cutthroat but Elain was above all that. She had love, she was happy. Let the rest of the city squabble and fight—she’d always been content to watch, certain her and Graysen were better than all the rest of the slime that slithered through the halls of the capitol.

Clouds covered Elain’s view of the ground, drawing her back to her phone. In the group chat, seven different people began offering apologies and explanations. These girls were friends, she realized. Perhaps not at first but they’d become friends through their realization Graysen was lying scum and their own hurt feelings. They’d met more than once, for drinks and then regular brunch as they debated if they ought to tell Elain. She swallowed her anger because their hurt was, of course, valid and they’d all known. The entire time, they had all known she was there and had only thought to tell her when it became apparent Graysen was never going to leave her.

Elain turned to Arina, the only person she could trust.

Of course I’ll help you. Question, though. If you ever caught Eris cheating, what would you do?

Arina’s answer took longer than it might have. Elain blamed the spotty wifi for that .While she waited she ordered a drink—vodka tonic, which she shot without touching the tonic, before ordering another. The stewardess arched a brow but said nothing, merely handing Elain two more mini bottles and walking away before Elain could order a third.

I’d fuck his mom and destroy his life, in that order. Why?

Elain scoffed, her fingers hovering over the glass screen to tap her response. She couldn’t sleep with Graysen’s parents and she certainly couldn’t destroy his life. She wouldn’t know how. If she left him, Elain knew he’d figure a way to spin it. Graysen was the master of spin. He’d make her into some bitter ex or worse, paint himself the heart broken ex-fiance pining for his heartless love.

A Washington Post article popped up in her notifications. Lucien Vanserra pulls ahead in Prythian City by six points, giving him a sweet lead ahead of the debates.

Elain blinked, opening the article to read. She kept careful tabs on Lucien Vanserra. Their state had two available Senate seats—Graysen occupied one, and Lucien the other. The pair hated each other. Lucien was from Vanserra money, so old it could be traced back centuries into Europe. Arina had told Elain the Vanserra’s were in line to the British throne distantly, and she’d been required to invite more than one Duke scattered about Western Europe, some of whom sent very nice gifts.

Graysen’s family was also wealthy but the money was newer and Graysen used that to his advantage. Lucien could never pretend to be a down home country boy but that was Graysen’s entire image. Elain knew Graysen had attended the same Ivy, had grown up in a sprawling estate with ocean access, and had attended the finest private school’s money could buy. But to the voters who saw pictures of him in scuffed up boots on John Deere Tractors, Graysen was just like them. A working man, a man of the people. And Lucien? He was an outsider, a traitor from the city with money that only cared about protecting the stock interests of his wealthy pals.

The truth was more complicated. Graysen certain did his fair share of protecting the wealthy at the expense of the working class just as Lucien had championed fair wages and capping housing costs.

She sat there, settled in her seat, mind racing. Destroy his life.

Lucien Vanserra would keep his seat, but Graysen’s was in doubt, contested by a bartender named Jurian Iring. Vanserra was helping him raise money but with his own campaign to run, he’d need help. She could help. Graysen wouldn’t have to know. She didn’t have to end things now. Elain could wait, could bide her time, could collect information and quietly pass it along to Jurian’s camp and watch Graysen’s campaign crash and burn. She could choose how to leak his multitude of infidelities, so they had the maximum impact and force him into corner of her own design.

Elain looked back to her phone, at the picture of Lucien Vanserra waving to a crowd of his supporters. Broad hands, brown skin and that Vanserra red hair tied off his face. He was broad, his musculature unhidden in his crisp, expensive suit and his features were just as elegant as his older brothers though softer somehow. She cocked her head, her anger sharpening into something else. Something darker, uglier.

Revenge.

Elain would destroy Graysen’s life and fuck his nemesis while she did it.

LUCIEN:

“What are your thoughts on the internet?” Vassa LaFlamme asked Lucien mere seconds before he stepped out of his office doors.

“Good for some things,” he said quickly, snapping the door shut behind him. Vassa was quickly becoming a thorn in his side. He regretted offering his assistance to her boyfriend Jurian, who was still unbelievably working his day job and had left campaigning largely up to the wide-eyed naivety of Vassa. She was a fire-bird and yet Lucien could not be her mentor, not when he had his own campaign to run.

“I got a DM today about Graysen from an unverified account. Looks like it was created this morning,” she added. Lucien glanced down, snatched the phone from her hand and read the message. It was just as Vassa said—no profile picture, no pictures or anything that would prove it was anything but a pornbot, with a downloadable PDF. Any other time, Lucien might have dismissed it. Swearing he’d buy Vassa a new phone, he clicked the link on a hunch. In his line of work, a dead profile usually meant someone high up was trying to make waves—or ruin a life—and didn’t want to risk getting caught. He prayed for a sex scandal and instead found a schedule of events Graysen was attempting to nail down for the final leg of his campaign. All in smaller town, towns Lucien might even skip in favor of bigger voting blocs.

It meant Graysen either assumed those places would vote in his favor or that hitting the more rural parts of the state would make up his deficit. “Well?”

He handed it back to Vassa. “Looks like someone wants to help. Maybe he fucked over his campaign manager or one of his volunteers. If you beat him there, you might have a decent chance of swaying some undecided voters.”

Jurian was persuasive when he got on a stage and Vassa wasn’t a polished politican’s wife. If you set her beside Elain Archeron, Vassa, while beautiful, looked absolutely normal. It was obvious Vassa did her own hair, that her clothes were purchased in places anyone could buy them and when Vassa smiled, it didn’t seem practiced in a mirror. Jurian and Vassa were the polar opposite of Graysen and Elain, D.C.’s stepford couple.

The problem was getting Jurian out of the cities and into the rest of the state. Jurian had hung his hat on the liberal parts of the state outvoting Graysen, tired of his pandering. He underestimated how deeply entrenched rural politics tended to be, how conservative the east coast still was, and that he was another city outsider. Lucien was just barely tolerated, a liberal Vanserra always mucking about. His family name helped. Jurian had none of that and needed to assure the rest of the state they would not be left behind if two liberal senators represented their interests in the capitol.

“Can I trust it?” Vassa asked, her cerulean eyes somehow bluer beneath the harsh fluorescents overhead. Bouncy red curls offset golden brown skin and a constellation of freckles. Vassa didn’t belong somewhere as profoundly ugly as D.C., though Lucien did not have the heart to tell her. He certainly preferred Jurian to the smug preening of Graysen, at any rate.

Lucien shrugged. “If I knew the answer to that, I’d run this place. My advice? Go with your gut. If you think it’s legit, beat Lockhart to every place he’s planning on attending either with volunteers knocking on doors or with Jurian himself talking to people. No matter what, though, you two need to leave Prythian City.”

Lucien’s phone rang, ending his talk with Vassa. She seemed to understand her time with him was at an end, peeling off at the end of the hall while Lucien paused. Eris. His brother only called when he needed something. Lucien hit the green button and loosened the blue tie wrapped too tightly around his neck. “What?”

“What’re you doing this weekend?”

“Drinking in a hotel bar,” Lucien replied automatically. He’d be campaigning right up until election day. “You want to join?”

“Do they even have bars in a Best Western?” Eris replied dryly.

“Fuck you, Eris.”

“It’s my birthday, asshole. Arina is arranging something, and I need you to be here for it. Father is coming.”

“Your father,” Lucien corrected automatically. “Not mine.”

“You have his last name, that makes him your father. Don’t make me face him alone or I will send the press the nakedest baby picture I can fine—”

“That will only help me,” Lucien shot back, his stomach tightening at the prospect.

“Yes, I have heard about the finsta,” Eris replied dryly. “Arina is monitoring it with glee. Will you come or not.” “Yes, I’ll come but if you think I’m going to speak to Beron, you’re wrong.”

“He wrote your campaign that very generous check, did he not?” Eris questioned a little too slickly. Lucien’s hand balled to a fist at his side before he took a breath. It was late and in his wing of offices, Lucien was the last to leave. It wasn’t usually like that for him and today he was grateful no one but the sanitation worker was there to see him quietly losing his temper.

“You know I have no idea what or who is giving me money,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Ah, of course. Politics is so famously free of money’s influence. I’m sure this was just a good faith donation from a constituent.”

“If he’s hoping I’ll do him a favor he can get fucked—”

“Calm down, baby brother. I never said that. Don’t let him rile you before you’ve even seen him?” “Why bring it up at all?” Lucien demanded, well aware that Eris loved to cause problems for the simple joy of it.

“Ever since mothers fair was revealed, you pretend you are above us all. You aren’t, and I intend to make you remember it. See you this weekend. Bring Arina a nice bottle of wine for her troubles. She’ll have to arrange another seat for your last-minute arrival.” “Tell her I’m coming,” Lucien snapped but the phone went dead, leaving Lucien angry in the middle of the nation’s capital, holding his phone like it was a lifeline. He ran a hand over his face, catching a hint of rough hair ghosting his cheek.

Everything is fine. Your life is fine, he reminded himself. He would shave in the morning, just as he always did. He was a man and Beron could not hurt him—not anymore. Not with his money, not with his words, and not with his fists.

But just to be sure, Lucien changed course for the gym.

Just to be safe.

ELAIN:

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” Graysen asked Elain as she folded another of his shirts, setting it neatly into his suitcase. “Surely Arina can live without you.” “I promised,” Elain replied, holding firm when she knew any other time she would have rushed to join him. “And besides, no one wants to see me. You’re what everyone has come for.” His cheeks flushed with pleasure. Graysen stood in their bedroom in front of a full length mirror she’d driven over sixty miles to buy. Vintage, in its ornate frame, with glass made over a century before. Elain had hung a strand of pearls from one of the corners to soften the burnished edges and even then, as Graysen admired his own reflection, Elain admired her handiwork. She’d designed a life, had turned the once empty brownstone into a home, for all he cared. She could hardly stand to sleep in her bed knowing he’d brought so many other women into it, staining her sheets not just with the act itself but with the lies told.

She intended to change them out entirely when he was gone. He’d never notice. She was merely another piece of decoration in his life that he could appreciate when he needed to, only to forget when it no longer served him.

“I hate the thought of you spending the night with a Vanserra.” Graysen turned to look at her, unaware the tight, slinky black dress she wore, with the draped sleeves and low neckline, served a secondary purpose. His words were double-edged. Elain had told Arina everything, had shown her the pictures, the texts, and most important, had shared her plan. It was risky—Arina was a Vanserra and might very well balk at Elain’s plan to involve the youngest silbing in her revenge plan.

But Arina had merely played along, suggesting Eris invite Lucien to offset Beron’s surprise attendance at the party he certainly had not been invited to. Elain could do the rest. Lucien might not like her but men were stupid and Elain was pretty. Let him think he was getting something over on Graysen. What did she care?

“It’s only Eris,” Elain reminded Graysen, trying not to shove him away when he wrapped his arms around her waist. “And he is very married.”

“Mm,” Graysen murmured, pressing a kiss against her mouth. He could be so sweet. It messed with her, had been all week since she’d returned. She wanted to pretend she’d never seen any of those texts, wanted to go back to how things had been before. “I can’t wait until that’s me.”

She hated him for making her love him. Elain smiled, swallowing her hurt while he caressed her face. “Elain Lockhart. My beautiful wife.”

“Soon,” she lied. “Only six more months.”

“Where are we with that?” he questioned, releasing his hold on her to zip his suitcase on the bed. “I haven’t heard you mention much about it.”

“There’s not much to say,” she lied again. She’d put everything on pause, unsure if she was better off cancelling her deposits or pretending things were fine and eating that money. She didn’t want to waste anyone’s time—and the date she held for the cathedral downtown was coveted. Someone else was surely dying for her early afternoon Autumn wedding.

“Mom says you haven’t responded to her text about a dress,” Graysen accused, glancing at her. “Are you still angry about what she said at Christmas?”

Elain crossed her arms over her chest, letting him see, just for a moment, how furious she was about everything. He didn’t blink, didn’t react. “You mean when she called me fat?”

He sighed, exasperated. “She didn’t call you fat, she just thought you were eating a lot and was concerned about your health. You took it the wrong way. Please text her, okay? Let her make it up to you—” “By shaming me into losing ten pounds for a wedding dress?”

Graysen slammed his bag to the floor. “Don’t cause problems for me right now, okay? I love you, baby. Call my mom. It’s one day at the expense of a lifetime of happiness. Punish her through her credit card but don’t punish me. I don’t want to be in the middle of this cat fight.”

He kissed her cheek and Elain fisted her hands at her sides to keep herself from punching him in the gut. “You’re under a lot of stress,” she murmured. “How can I help?”

“Want to suck my dick?” he asked, his tone light as though he were joking. She hated him for daring to ask her such as thing, when she knew the second he got on the road he’d be texting some new girl who wasn’t part of the group chat, who didn’t know what a liar he was…who would be all too happy to fall to her knees and suck him off the second she arrived to the hotel he was staying at.

“You should have asked sooner,” Elain replied sweetly, kissing his cheek. “You’re going to be late.” “When I get back,” he decided, as if there was a chance in hell. “I’ll be thinking about it all weekend.”

She had no response to that, so she only smiled, smiled until her teeth ached and her cheeks hurt. Graysen continued to talk right up until the car taking him to the airport arrived, unaware that Elain was privately plotting his demise in her head to get her through the interaction. She counted silently to one hundred once the dark door closed after him, just in case he came running back in for headphones or a charger and then, once she was sure he was gone, let out a scream the neighbors almost certainly heard.

She wanted to trudge back upstairs to the bedroom, bury her face in the cream sheets, and sob until there was nothing left. She hadn’t let herself cry—Elain knew if she let go of her anger and gave in to her sadness, acceptance would follow. She’d tell Graysen everything and lose her advantage. He’d spin things to his advantage; he’d salvage his career and he’d get to go on with his life as though he’d done nothing wrong.

She couldn’t stand the thought of it, so Elain took a breath and fixed her hair. She blew a controlled breath through perfect, red lips and smoothed a hand over her flat stomach until she felt calm again. Graysen would not return until Monday evening. It was Friday. For three days she’d be free of his presence, of his lies.

And in the strangest turn of events, Elain almost felt free.

LUCIEN:

“You hardly needed me for this, brother,” Lucien complained, raising a crystal glass of whiskey to his lips. Beside him, Eris looked around the room of mostly Arina’s friends, one hand on Lucien’s shoulder. Lucien supposed Eris did not have time for friends as he headed the family business. Beron had been ousted half a decade earlier for fraud and, despite the utter scandal, had merely paid his fine to the securities department and gone about his life as if nothing happened. He had an absurd presence on twitter and an almost cult-like following. He also had not come, despite his threats.

The party was winding down and Lucien regretted the wasted day no matter how many of Arina’s pretty friends had been giving him fuck me eyes all night.

“No, but it did feel like old times,” Eris admitted with an easy smile. He clapped Lucien on the shoulder, walking him from the large living room towards the connected dining room. The pair paused in front of the wall-length windows of Eris’s penthouse that overlooked the city. Eris truly was king up here, surveying his domain with satisfaction. Lucien wondered if his brother ever felt pleasure at what he’d obtained. “Besides. You made my wife incredibly happy. She likes you.”

“A moral failing,” Lucien joked. He was just as fond of Arina despite the absolute insane decision on her part to marry Eris in the first place. Arina was nice, she was normal. She liked to cut down her own Christmas trees, she knew how to cook for herself and had once forced Eris to return a necklace when she learned how absurdly expensive it was. Lucien had heard a rumor Arina made Eris take her to Olive Garden every year for their anniversary and he believed it, though Eris had never admitted the truth of it.

“Stay the night. Let Arina make you breakfast and then continue your tour of fuck all nowhere,” Eris continued dismissively. “Or better yet, drop out and come work for me.”

“I’ll stay the night,” Lucien agreed. “But only because the bar in my hotel is probably closed.”

“Smart man. Ayva is out there, if you’re looking for something to do…Arina invited her specifically for you.” Lucien rolled his eyes and waved off his brother, heading down the hall for the bedroom he typically occupied. He’d dumped his bag on the bed earlier to mark it just in case a horny couple decided to take it upon themselves to find more private accommodations.

Lucien flipped on the light, surprise to see Arina had covered the once white walls in a blue floral wall paper he quite liked and Elain Archeron sitting on the edge of the bed, massaging one of her feet with a perfectly manicured hand.

“Wrong room,” Lucien informed her, gesturing towards the bag she’d tossed gracelessly to the floor.

“I thought it looked cheap,” she replied without moving. Elain kicked her other shoe off, as if daring him to do anything about it. Was she drunk? Lucien couldn’t recall a single instance in which he and Elain had ever spoken to each other, a feat considering they’d both been in Eris and Arina’s wedding party.

“Graysen let you off the leash tonight?” he bit back, catching how her eyes flashed defiantly. She rose, all five feet of her without her absurd shoes and Lucien had the sense he ought to shut the door behind him, if only to keep someone from seeing him get slapped.

“I am his good little pet, aren’t I?” she murmured when she reached Lucien, looking up at him through thick, dark lashes. She was gorgeous, cheeks flushed, brown eyes sultry. “What would he say if he knew you were here right now?”

“You’re drunk,” Lucien guessed, suddenly unsure what else he could say. She laughed dryly, fingers reaching for the button of his jeans. He stilled.

“Would it matter if I was?” she questioned, undoing the metal clasp with one hand. Well practiced, his mind screamed, staring at pouty, red lips.

“What are you doing?” he asked instead. Because Elain was right—he didn’t care if she was drunk or not, just like he didn’t care if she was engaged. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down his knees.

“I’m off my leash tonight, remember?” she murmured, cupping his cock through his underwear. Lucien exhaled softly, hardening beneath her soft hand. “I want to see what all the fuss is about.” “If you think I’m going to stop you, you’re wrong,” he told her, reaching for her hair as she pulled him from his pants. Elain’s smile was almost cruel, so at odds with the endless pictures she’d seen of the bright, friendly woman supporting Graysen in a Chanel pantsuit.

Elain sank to her knees, pumping the length of him once. “When did I ask for a gentleman, Vanserra?”

Fuck her, he thought as arousal spiked through him. His grip on her honey blonde hair tightened and the moment her lips slid around the tip of his cock, Lucien shoved, forcing her to take far more than she meant to. Elain gagged, hands braced against his thighs.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he groaned because despite the intense dislike he felt for her, her mouth was utter heaven. Her tongue slid along the length of him, lips wrapped around her teeth and despite her initial discomfort, she adjusted quicker than he’d expected. He could not picture nice, polite Elain taking anyone’s cock, and certainly not like this. Her cheeks hollowed, creating the most delicious friction and Lucien closed his eyes for a moment.

Her teeth scraped roughly against his skin. He jerked, looking back down at the furious expression blazing from her eyes. Elain pulled back, letting him keep his grip on her hair, still fisting the length of his cock she could not take in her throat. “Look at me or finish yourself,” she demanded roughly. His balls tightened and Lucien could only nod, guiding her back. He repaid her by pushing her further, delighting in the gagging that erupted from her own mouth as she struggled to adjust. He knew he was big and liked to imagine she wasn’t used to a penis so large, and certainly not one being shoved so inelegantly into her mouth. There was something primal about it, watching her on her knees, practically subservient before him, her mascara streaked down her cheek, head bobbing as he kept her in place. His whole body was hard, tighter than a bowstring as she sucked, her saliva pooling from her lips and dripping down his sac. Any other woman would have been given a warning but for Elain, he merely held her still so he could fuck her throat, delighting in the way she gagged. It was music, in a way, to debase her this way. And when he came, he said nothing at all. She squealed, pushing back but Lucien held her until he’d pumped every last drop down her throat.

She looked up at him with more of that blazing hatred, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Lucien felt the most terrible urge to taste her, then, and, pressing his luck, reached for her. She scrambled to her feet and, hand raised, slapped him roughly across the face. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He gestured down his body, his cock still twitching and swollen, her lipstick stained along his skin. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that hitting him only made him want her more. What the fuck was wrong with him.

“Give me your phone,” she demanded and wordlessly, Lucien handed it over. A moment later, Elain had typed in her phone number though instead of putting a name that would note her, she’d put a small, pink flower. She sent herself a quick text and then tossed his phone at his feet.

“You couldn’t hand it to me?” he asked, yanking his pants back over his hips.

“Get it yourself. I decide how this goes. Not you.” “What makes you think I ever want to see you again? I got mine,” he shot back with a smirk. Elain only smiled and collected her shoes, as if she knew what a liar he was.

“See you around, Vanserra.”

And she left him, half hard and feeling stupider than he ever had in his entire life.

ELAIN:

Elain was curled on the sofa when Graysen returned, her phone tucked beneath her thigh. She heard the door open softly and close softly. His bag thunked to the ground. Elain waited for him to tiptoe through the foyer into the living room where she waited. “You’re awake,” he said, clearly surprised. And she was. Any other night, Elain would have been in bed by eight in order to be up at four am for the gym but she’d made an exception. She wanted to know how late he’d been sneaking in and at one thirty am, Graysen had finally snuck his way in, smelling of J’Adore.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Elain murmured with mock sleepiness. That was half true. She couldn’t sleep knowing he was out with another woman not using protection. “It’s been a long weekend. How was the trip?”

“Awful without you,” he lied, keeping his distance. Hidden in the dark, Elain wondered what other tell-tale signs she’d find if she turned on the light and looked for herself. She merely curled her legs beneath her body, reaching for her phone. “Fucking Iring beat me out there, the prick. I’m gonna need you next weekend. “Of course,” Elain agreed sweetly. “I should have told Arina no.”

That pacified him. “I should shower. Meet me in bed?”

Elain rested her head along the back of the cushioned tan couch and nodded, her hair spilling around her face and Graysen, thinking he’d gotten away with something, continued up to the bathroom where he’d scrub away the evidence of his crimes.

Elain pulled her phone from beneath her and scrolled through her contacts, looking for the little fox emoji that denoted Lucien. He was an ass, choking her on his dick and still it had been almost fun. Certainly gratifying, in its own way. She’d masturbated to the thought of blowing Lucien just as Graysen had begged her to a few hours before.

5am? She texted, unsure what she even wanted from him. He didn’t seem like a particularly kind or generous lover and it occurred to Elain if she was going to cheat on Graysen, she might pick someone who could actually make her come. She’d been faking it for years, getting off only when Graysen felt like going down on her, which was infrequent at the best of times. She’d told herself it was the tradeoff for love, that you either got mind blowing sex or the love of your life, but never both.

Still, she’d fake it with Lucien to one day rub this whole thing in Graysen’s face. She could get on top and control the entire thing. Use him just as surely as he’d used her, she decided. What did she care what he thought of her touching herself while he fucked her? It made Graysen insane—he swore it would upset any man.

Lucien sent back an address and nothing else, as though he’d made his peace with the situation. Satisfied, Elain turned off the television, straightened up the living room, and made her way into the bedroom upstairs. She passed the bathroom where Graysen showered, his bodywash overpowering the lingering perfume she’d smelled when he came in.

She was in bed, back turned to him when he came in. She felt him slide in, felt his hand on the middle of her back.

“Baby?” he whispered. She almost scoffed at his audacity but instead focused on keeping her breathing even. Graysen leaned over and Elain continued to feign sleep, eyes closed, until he pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade and settled back to his side of the bed. She was fuming, so angry she was sure she’d never sleep.

She was startled when her alarm jolted her awake at four am, cheerfully reminding her that Elain always got up at four am so she could make it on time to her hot yoga class. Graysen groaned, flinging an arm over in Elain’s direction. She pushed it back, silencing her alarm and headed for the shower. Still holding her phone, Elain realized she had a notification.

Lucien, ten minutes earlier, had sent her a sweaty, shirtless gym picture. Elain, ignoring the way her whole body tightened at the sight of glistening abs, responded with one word.

Gross.

He was hardly gross. He had the biggest penis she’d ever seen in her entire life, a low bar considering she’d only ever seen two. He was in incredible shape and there was something appealing about a man with discipline, who got up early like she did to work out. Graysen preferred to run and was often dieting, which meant Elain, too, was running and dieting. She hated running. Elain liked weights, she liked dancing, she liked anything but the monotony of running. Graysen thought weights made women too bulky and dancing was too slutty.

It was a reminder that Graysen controlled every aspect of Elain’s life, from the color of her nails to the kind of clothes she wore and everything in between. Elain wasn’t allowed in anything too short, too low cut, that showed the barest hint of skin. That included shorts to work out in, it included bathing suits on the beach, and it often extended to even the lingerie she wanted to wear. Someone might see her buy it and think she was the wrong type of woman.

What would he think of her now, carefully soaping her body only to send a strategically posed, low light selfie straight back to Lucien? There was no way to know the pair of wet tits belonged to her and though Lucien was a bastard to be sure, he didn’t seem like the kind of asshole who’d leak the pictures.

His response was instant.

Hurry the fuck up.

It only slowed her down. Pleasure coiled through her all the same and Elain took her time drying her hair and curling it, applying a thin layer of make-up, and all the other stupid shit she did because Graysen demanded it even though going to work out in make made her skin itch. Her workout would be different, and she thought she quite liked the sight of her lipstick smeared over Lucien’s cock, besides. Maybe she’d take a picture of that, too. Maybe that would be the picture she showed Graysen, when this was all over and she’d completely blown up his life.

Graysen didn’t budge by the time Elain left, her tennis shoes laced up, her bag tossed over her shoulder. The only difference between today and any other was her lack of kiss—she always kissed him on the cheek before she left, just in case anything happened. Murmured an I love you he never returned. She doubted he noticed the difference, was grateful for the quiet.

Just like Elain, Lucien lived in Georgetown. Why shouldn’t he? A Vanserra living in the historic neighborhood was practically a right, a king come to claim what was his by birth and blood. It made sneaking around much easier, when she merely had to jog four blocks down. Lucien’s home didn’t share a wall and wasn’t a townhouse, a fact Elain was immensely jealous of. Three stories of gorgeous white stone and Victorian architecture, bathed beneath the early glow of the morning sun, left Elain momentarily stunned on the sidewalk. Remembering she was supposed to be at yoga and not at a Vanserra’s, she jogged up the steps, hands gliding up the old iron railing and wondered who had once lived there before him. Who else had walked those steps?

He opened the arched door before she could knock, dressed casually in black basketball shorts and a blue v-necked t-shirt. She’d never seen his hair loose around his face—it had always been neatly pulled back but in the doorway it hung damp and thick around his handsome face, making him seem rougher and almost rakish by comparison.

He gestured for her to step inside, further impressing her with a modern, bright interior that utilized the high ceilings and large windows to maximize the amount of natural light pouring in. She wanted a tour more than she wanted to fuck him in that moment but Lucien, unaware or unconcerned with her interest in his décor, merely gestured for her to follow him up dark hardwood stairs.

And she did. She hadn’t come to compliment him, after all. His bedroom was a little darker, the curtains pulled against high windows, his duvet a blood red that wasn’t totally at odds with the cream of his walls.

“Get naked,” he said the moment he’d shut his door. “I only have an hour.” “I’m sure that’s plenty of time,” Elain sneered in response, pulling her tank top over her head. Lucien’s expression darkened but he didn’t argue. He also didn’t take a piece of his own clothing off, a fact she didn’t realize until she was shimmying out of her leggings.

“What about—” she began but he growled softly, shoving her to the bed and yanked roughly, stretching the seams. She gasped, worried he’d rip a hole if he wasn’t careful. He took only a moment to look at her, a hungry gleam in his eye, before he reached for her wrist and yanked her back to her feet.

It occurred to her only a moment later that she’d very explicitly told him they would do things her way or not at all. He’d heard her and perhaps interpreted it to mean she would decide when while he decided the how. Elain began to protest his wordless manipulation of her body until he was flat on his back and she straddling his chest.

“Lucien you—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled, pulling himself further down, arms grasping her thighs. He yanked and Elain gasped again, this time from the feel of his tongue dragging up her pussy. The pads of his fingers dug into the bone of her hip, holding her so tight she wasn’t sure how he was breathing. She fisted his hair just as he had done the weekend before, deciding he didn’t care. Let him suffocate, if he wanted to say that kind of shit to her.

And oh God, she had to use her other hand to hold the head board. Her hips rolled against his face of their own accord, urging him on though he had set a very polite, almost leisurely pace. She remembered what he’d said only a minute before. I only have an hour.

An hour. If she could get Graysen to spend more than five minutes between her thighs she considered it a win and Lucien was bemoaning an hour. She could not imagine it, was sure she’d come even if he changed nothing about how he currently stroked against her.

“Turn me around,” Elain gasped, practically writhing when he switched between long, broad strokes of his tongue to short, faster flicks. He said nothing though he paused for a moment and then, with a slowness that made her scream softly, delved into the opening of her pussy, fucking her with his tongue. She hated him, hated him for how good he was with his mouth and how bad she wanted to come. “Lucien, let me suck—”

“Fuck, Elain,” he groaned, letting her climb off his face long enough to reposition herself, his hands frantically pulling his shorts from his hips. He was achingly hard and utterly erect—the sight of his bobbing cock against his abs thrilled her a little. Graysen had told her eating her out did nothing for him, made him so soft he needed to stroke himself while he was down which he found distracting.

Lucien hauled her back against his face without warning and she squealed in delight, sighing at the feel of his fingers spreading her apart. It took her a moment to remember what she was supposed to be doing. She reached for his cock, pumping twice with her hand to get a feel for him. Lucien’s breath quickened, hot against her cunt and Elain moaned softly, grinding against him.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that shit,” he told her, mouth pressed against her body. She wasn’t sure if she meant the stroking of the grinding of her hips and as a test, she did both, first her hand, and then her lower body. He groaned against, losing his rhythm for a moment.

“Suck my fucking cock, Elain,” he ordered and Elain had never been so aroused in her life. She ought to have told him no, but Lucien’s tongue was back in her pussy and Elain was building too hot, too fast. She sucked the tip of his cock into her mouth, her mind focusing on taking as much of him as she could, to see if she could take more than before. It gave her something else to focus on, beside the throbbing pleasure between her legs.

“You’re only pretty when you’re sucking me,” he told her, his words panting and muffled. She would have laughed had she not had half his cock in her throat. She raked her teeth up the skin of his shaft in warning, a reminder to shut his own mouth if he wanted to finish at all and Lucien seemed to understand the message.

He couldn’t hold her head against him as he pulsated closer, the vein in his cock raised. She knew he was about to come, had figured out his tell—his hips began to thrust upwards, trying desperately to fuck all of her. What would it feel like to actually have every inch of him in her, pumping desperately, madly?

Elain came for the first time in a year, grinding hard against her face. She let herself be loud, let herself press against him, use him for her own pleasure just as she said she was. He didn’t mean anything to her, was merely an object for her to use. The feeling was clearly mutual as Lucien pulled her off him just in time to coat her in his come. She punched him hard in the thigh, using her other hand to wipe his emission from her throat.

“I get it now,” Lucien panted, grinning ear to ear as he looked at her. “Why the press is always calling you beautiful.” “I hate you,” she replied, standing quickly. He didn’t stop smiling. He merely gestured towards the bathroom door at the far end of the bathroom.

“I know you do. Go clean yourself up.”

And Elain did exactly as she was told.

LUCIEN:

“I can’t stand them,” Vassa hissed, arms crossed over her chest as Elain and Graysen swanned into the little auditorium. Graysen and Jurian would face off in a series of townhalls. Lucien understood Vassa’s frustrations—Elain was a veteran when it came to greeting constituents. When Vassa came in, she’d barely spoken to anyone, focusing on getting things set up, still leaning the ropes. Elain immediately began greeting the people seated on benches around the circular stage, eyes bright as she inquired after their lives and heard their problems. Lucien knew without a doubt Graysen would never have gotten half as far without Elain baking pies and kissing infants and remembering the names of a seemingly endless stream of strangers.

He resented Graysen for it almost as much as he disliked Elain for her willingness to play along. What did she get from the whole thing? Did she imagine she might one day be First Lady? That hitching her wagon to someone like Graysen would one day pay off for her?

Lucien let hismelf imagine her covered in his come, messy and disheveled and so fucking hot. Where was that woman, he wondered? The Elain he saw now wore a bright blue pencil shirt with a modest jacket, a silver bracelet that matched the delicate chain around her neck and the gleaming diamond on her finger. It occurred to him that in the time he’d spent with her, he’d never once seen her wear her engagement ring.

Not a hair was out of place, her lips the perfect shade of pink, her eyeshadow creating the sweetest, doe-eyed effect. Graysen approached in his navy suit and placed a hand on her back. Elain turned and offered him a beaming smile…until he looked away. It was only a moment but Lucien, so busy studying her in his resentment, caught the hatred that flashed over her features before she caught herself. It was the briefest flicker, hardly anything at all.

“I’ll bet he’s fucking women all over the state,” Vassa, unaware of Lucien’s obsession, continued whispering from her spot in the stands. He was there as moral support, sitting in the front row beside Vassa just opposite of Elain and Graysen. Elain took her seat, smoothing the back of her skirt before sitting and tossed a pretty curl over her shoulder. Graysen said something to her and her smile tightened for a moment but she smiled in agreement all the same. Graysen joined Jurian on the stage, preparing to be mic’ed up and flipping through his note cards in his jacket pocket.

“You think?” Lucien murmured. “You don’t think Elain unplugs him when the night is over and puts him on a charging dock?”

Vassa giggled. “If anyone gets put away, it’s politician’s wife barbie. She’s too perfect. I’ll bet she’s pent up as fuck.”

Lucien couldn’t comment on that, though Vassa wasn’t wrong. She sucked dick like she needed it to breathe. He couldn’t think about that or he’d have an erection in the middle of what promised to be a very dry town hall. Lucien had given Vassa the run down earlier—he personally thought townhalls were preferable to big debates. People were obviously preselected ahead of time and each candidate had a sense of the questions that would be asked, but there was an intimacy to them that made viewers and participants feel like they knew a candidate better. It let candidates show off more of their personality, of their values. Jurian needed people to see he had more in common with them than Graysen, who was guaranteed to come off too polished, too slick no matter how back woods he wanted to portray himself.

And Elain, in her thousand-dollar shoes, did Graysen no favors in this venue. Lucien supposed she existed simply to make other men jealous, to perhaps make them think subconsciously that a man with a woman like that might rub off on them in some way. As though there was anyone half as beautiful as Elain anywhere else.

Her eyes met his, that practiced smile shifting into something else. Her gaze drifted towards the hall and Lucien didn’t dare believe she’d chance such a thing. He was merely thinking with his dick while she was letting her mind wander. Still, it was him who stood even as Vassa looked up at him.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Totally fine. I need to take care of something really quick,” he added, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Jurian is going to be fine. This is where he shines.”

Vassa nodded, curls bouncing sweetly. She was exactly what she needed and if Jurian ever got smart and hired an actual campaign manager, Vassa could give Elain a run for her money. He’d try and sell Jurian on the merits of that later. He turned towards the aisle, nodding at the same people he needed to vote for him before pushing through wide, double doors. There was a dressing room between where he sat and Elain sat—small, practically a closet all things considered, but he didn’t need a lot of room.

What he needed was a condom and to get that, Lucien had to run from the purple carpeted lobby to the parking lot, trying to remember where he’d left his car, fish his keys from his pocket, and pull the yellow foil from his glove box. He slipped it into his pocket, walking back to the glass doors of the auditorium. He could hear the booming words of the moderator welcoming guests and hoped the dry political droll wouldn’t permeate through the walls.

Lucien considered, for one brief moment, this was all in his head. That he’d imagined Elain’s desire from across the room and was walking to that dressing room, the same he’d once spent a terrifying ten minutes standing in before his very first town hall, to find it empty.

Lucien yanked the door open and Elain grabbed his tie, dragging him further inside. The door slammed shut behind them and Lucien couldn’t help himself, leaning to kiss her.

“Not my face,” she snapped, her fingers pressed to his lips.

“I’ll bet you’re a shitty kisser anyway,” Lucien lied, hiking her skirt towards her hips, mouth finding her arching neck.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she replied. “Why are you here?”

“I hate Graysen as much as you do,” he couldn’t help saying. Elain fumbled with the belt of his dress pants, yanking too hard. Lucien didn’t care, rubbing himself against her slim leg as he hauled hre against a small table shoved against the wall. He meant to bend her over it, but her skin was so soft and smelled sweet, like honey and jasmine and Lucien needed to lose himself in it. He was cognizant of her hair, burying his hair in the soft strands for only a moment.

“You’re not running against him,” she reminded Lucien, dragging him back to the present. Right. They weren’t friends—she was going to marry his worst enemy.

“I’m here to support Jurian,” Lucien told her, taking step backwards so he could pull his cock from the opening in his pants. He had no intention of getting naked or being caught with his pants down.

Elain hopped off the table, hips wiggling as she shimmied out of a pair of lacy, hot pink underwear. Her eyes darkened at the sight of the condom in his hand, watching as he ripped the corner with his teeth.

“Turn around,” he told her, pocketing her underwear. She was so obnoxious, the way she watched him over her shoulder with those big eyes, as if daring him to do anything about it. Knowing they could get caught, that anyone might walk in on them. How would she explain it? Elain Archeron, soon to be Lockhart, caught fucking a Vanserra?

Why did the thought making him so hot? Lucien rolled the condom over already straining cock and pushed the hem of her dress up over the perfect curve of her ass. He ran his hand over her skin before slapping hard, the sound ringing over the muffled conversation humming in the background. The print of his hand immediately reddened against her fair skin and Lucien couldn’t help his smile, satisfied.

She merely wiggled her hips invitingly, spreading her legs, still incased in those black heels, wider apart. “Tick tock, Vanserra. I don’t have all day.”

He wrapped a hand around her throat, brushing his lips against her ear. “When we get home, I’m going to make you regret this moment.”

“I regret every moment I’ve spent with you,” she replied sweetly, pushing her hips against his straining erection.

There was clapping in the background, acknowledging Elain’s sharp wit and Lucien could appreciate the humor of the moment. He snapped his hips, sliding into her without warning, without an ounce of sweetness. She gasped, gripping the edge of the table. “Ass,” she whispered, as though he were the problem. Lucien knew, the moment he was fully incased in her body, that it was she who was the asshole. How could she not have warned him, he wondered? Dizzyingly, Lucien rolled his hips, forcing himself to stay silent despite how tightly she gripped him. She felt like a second skin, the heat of her body seeping through the condom until he could all but imagine what it would feel like to fuck her raw. He held her hip, yanking her against him until Lucien could hear nothing but the sound of their combined breathing and the slap of their skin.

“Can you come like this?” he asked her, reaching for one of the curls of her hair.

“Does it matter?”

He hated her in that moment. He tugged her hair until she leaned backwards, looking up at him and, ignoring her earlier request, kissed her because he couldn’t stop himself. Like everything about them, there was nothing elegant or nice about it—the kiss was bruising, his tongue in her mouth, her teeth biting too hard until he swore he could taste blood.

“It always matters,” Lucien swore against her lips, releasing her so he could focus. If he kissed her again, he might be tempted to seek out her taste where it was stronger, to bury his face between her legs and let himself enjoy her until she was writhing and bucking against him.

She exhaled roughly when he snaked his hand between their bodies, cunt clenching tightly around him. “Tell me what you fucking need,” he growled, rubbing her clit until she practically dripped around him, her whole body a vice, sucking him deeper. She came with a sweet whimper, the feel of her convulsing around him emptying his mind of all other thoughts. He came almost regretfully, knowing the moment he finished his wild, primal pumping he would have to send her back to Graysen.

Elain all but shoved him off her, pulling her dress back to her knees. “My underwear—” “It’s mine,” he interrupted smoothly. “I’m not giving them back.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to smell them later?” she taunted, raking her fingers through her still immaculate hair. He took a step towards her, wiping a bit of smeared lipstick from her mouth with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m gonna use them to masturbate tonight,” he replied. “Want me to send you a video.”

Her eyes burned with hatred. Elain reached for the door handle as Lucien quickly zipped himself back into his pants.

“Send me the video, Vanserra.”

Elain snapped the door shut behind her, leaving him grinning like an utter fool in her wake.

ELAIN:

“How the fuck is he always one step ahead of me?” Graysen raged, turning the television off to pace across the plush white rug in their shared living room. “Someone is telling him something, I just know it.”

Elain didn’t look up from her phone, staring at a series of filthy texts from Lucien. “Maybe you should vet your volunteers better.”

“Its like he’s in my mind. I say I want to go to a soup kitchen and there that bastard is, photographed by the press—” “You left last weekend for Our Little Sisters,” Elain reminded him, looking up from her screen with a frown. “What happened?”

Graysen paled for a moment, caught in a lie he’d obviously forgotten about. “I told you, he beat me to it.”

Elain looked back at her phone, knees pulled to her chest. Come over.

“You could still go,” she reminded Graysen stone faced despite the arousal currently pulsating through her. “Good deeds aren’t a first come, first served sort of thing. Pick an organization in a county you haven’t visited yet.”

She wondered if he was considering which of his mistresses he’d told all this to that might be blabbing. He began to pace again, brown eyes stormy, his handsome face ugly with anger. “It’ll look cheap in comparison. It’s just one thing of a long list. Someone has betrayed me—” “Vet your volunteers better. It’s the same staff as before,” she reminded him, fingers flying across the screen.

You sound desperate.

Graysen ran a hand down his chin. “Do you have plans tonight?”

She frowned, once again forced to look at her fiancé. “No. I thought we were staying in?”

“What about Arina? You haven’t seen her in forever.” “Her and Eris have been in the Maldives for his birthday.” “They’re back though, right? You should visit her.” His desperation infuriated her, so transparent she had to work to keep her expression thoughtful.

“It would be nice to spend some time with her.” “Spend the night, even. Have a girls night. You’ve been working really hard, Lainey. On me. Take my card and really go crazy. Spa, drinks, dinner, shopping, whatever you want.”

Elain glanced back at her phone, to the new message waiting for her.

Desperate to see you covered in cum.

She plastered a smile to her face. “You spoil me.”

“You deserve it, baby. I mean it. You’ve let me drag you all over without any complaining. Have a nice night with Arina.”

“What will you do?” she asked, rising to her feet, well aware he was about to lie to her face. Would he see his mistress? Graysen crossed the room, holding her face in his hands.

“Work. I’ve got to figure out how to bury that piece of shit. It’s going to be a boring night staring at my computer.”

“You work too hard,” Elain told him too sweetly, her mind wandering to every filthy thing she’d do to Lucien as repayment for this moment. “I’ll miss you.”

He slapped her ass. “Go have fun.”

Elain put on a slinky red dress and a pair of matching red heels with absolutely nothing underneath. She concealed that fact in a long jacket, buttoned over her breasts so when she came to see Graysen he didn’t notice her nipples poking from beneath the silky fabric. Not that he looked in her direction at all. It was ridiculous to think he was staying at home, in his button up blue shirt and his navy dress pants. He had his watch still on, for fucks sake. He was clearly waiting for her to leave.

And she did, unbuttoning the beige coat as she walked the four blocks to Lucien’s house, each step freeing her of her resentment. By the time Lucien pulled open the door, wearing only a pair of long, athletic pants loose around his hips, Elain was almost excited.

“You’re overdressed,” he commented, eyes immediately zeroing in on her breasts.

“It’s called a gift, and you’re welcome,” Elain retorted.

“To see your tits through clothes? That’s only a gift to someone whose never seen you naked. Take your dress off…but keep the shoes.” “You’re a pervert,” she accused, sliding the dress tortuously slow over her skin, reveling in the feel of the fabric against her overheated skin. Lucien watched hungrily, not moving from the foyer. 

“Did I steal your only pair of underwear?” he asked, reaching for her now naked body and skimming his hands over the sides of her skin.

“I couldn’t risk you keeping them,” she replied.

“Answer me one thing, Elain Archeron,” he began, his mouth so close to hers she could taste the alcohol he’d been drinking. “When you’re done punishing Graysen for whatever fuckup he’d=s committed, are you going to marry him?” “Jealous?” she taunted, eyes searching his.

His eyes flashed with heat. “Yes.”

She didn’t let him say another word in the wake of that admission. She should have left him entirely. It was too far, to admit there was something at stake for him. This was supposed to be meaningless, punishment for every wrongdoing of Graysen’s. Instead, Elain grabbed Lucien by the back of his neck, kissing him roughly. She was stupid, thinking she could walk away. He was utterly electric, his hands pure heat as they hauled her into the air.

Fingers rubbed between the globes of her ass, his mouth bruising. Elain dragged her fingers through his hair, pulling through thick tangles. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms around his neck as Lucien walked them up the steps, never breaking the kiss. She was grateful for his athleticism in that moment, certain she would have died if he set her down, if his clever fingers stopped their expert, soft touches.

He dropped her to his bed, his heady, masculine scent enveloping her. She yanked at his hair, unwilling to give him a moment to say another word that might betray whatever feelings were bubbling in his mind. As far as Elain was concerned, she had a plan and Lucien asking if she intended to marry Graysen would only fuck it all up. He knew what this was.

She pushed desperately at his pants, not wanting to think about anything but his cock buried inside her, of the oblivion fucking him brought. He kicked them off, panting over her before trailing a series of punishing, bruising kisses over her skin, sucking against the skin of her breasts so hard she was certain there would be tell-tale purple bruises in the morning. She didn’t care. She raked her nails roughly against his back, hoping she might scar, wanting to hurt him for scaring her.

His cock slid through the slick folds of her pussy, reminding her she’d always meant to be in charge of their sexual interactions. She shoved him off her roughly, straddling his hips before he could stop her. He misunderstood, groaning his approval and trying to haul her up over his face but Elain slapped his hand off her. She centered her body over her cock, taking the base of it into her hand, and guided herself down.

“Look at me,” he demanded when her eyes shuttered. “You’ll look at me when I fuck you.” “I’m fucking you,” she reminded him breathlessly, rolling her hips quickly, desperately. They moaned in time, his broad hands spanning her ass again, practically holding her over him, his pace just as frantic, just as needy.

“Please, Van—”

“Say my goddamn name!” he all but yelled at her, reaching for a strand of hair and yanking until her face was mere inches from her own. “Say my name, Elain. Look at me and say my name.”

Their eyes met, her hips frantically meeting him thrust for thrust. The pain only made her wetter, made her want him more. “Lucien,” she whimpered. “Please, I—”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Elain and Lucien froze, looking behind them at the crisp, stunned figure of Eris Vanserra. Eyes wide, pale-faced, Eris seemed genuinely surprised, maybe for the first time in his life. “I don’t know which of you is dumber right now. Get fucking dressed.”

Elain slid Lucien from her body, wrapping the blood red blanket of his bed around her as Lucien very quickly dressed. He looked wild and a little afraid, yanking a shirt from his desk against the window over his head.

“Stay here,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

Something was bubbling in her chest, something Elain had kept buried for far too long. When the door snapped shut behind her, she stood with a numbness she hadn’t thought herself capable of feeling. She pulled open his dresser drawers, pulling on a pair of blue basketball shorts and one of his t-shirts before sitting on the floor, her back against his bed. Elain drew her knees up to her chest, waiting for Lucien to return.

The door opened and familiar blonde hair and green eyed peeked in. Arina, hurried and clearly worried, quickly slipped into the room. Arina, who had known about this plan the entire time, even if Elain had never shared the specifics, who had likely been waiting for Eris in the car when he stopped by to see his younger brother.

Arina, dressed in a beautiful blue dress, sat on the wood floor beside Elain and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Graysen has been sleeping with other women behind your back, Elain,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

And the tears Elain had been so desperately trying to keep at bay finally erupted from her chest. She buried her head in Arina’s shoulder, her sobs loud enough to interrupt the sound of Eris yelling at Lucien downstairs. “No. I’m not okay.”

[starjaeyun]

TRAITOR [PART 2 TO DRUNKEN STATE]

Draken vows to bring you back but soon came to a realization that maybe you're both traitors

𖦹 Ken Ryuuguji x Fem! Reader

𖦹 warning/s : angst, Hanma x Reader maybe?, light Baji and Kazutora x Reader, cursing/use of profanity, violence, mentions of cheating, mentions of Draken using reader, hurt/comfort <3, an au where in no one dies, arguing, MINOR SPOILERS, everyone is aged up to 18+, things that would happen in here are in the anime/manga but there are scenes and details that are NOT canon, mentions of betrayal, hanma is a softie and yes this is a warning bc we all know hanma ain't soft

𖦹 here it is bestiesss hihi,,,also i had to add hanma too 😕 i just can't help it

"Y/n...why? what— no, why are you here?" Draken asked shock still evident in his features

you snickered "awhh Ken I hope you didn't expect me cry over your sorry ass just because you cheated"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

flashback - 2 weeks after your break up with Draken

"hey. I heard about what happened" Baji sat on the swing beside you "I'm sorry"

you shrugged "whatever. fuck them"

"join me" Baji suddenly blurts out making you look at him in pure confusion "huh?" and as if on cue Kazutora appeared behind Baji "join us in Valhalla"

"ACK! KAZUTORA! DON'T GO AROUND POPPING OUT OF NOWHERE LIKE THAT!" Baji complained, muttering a small 'you almost gave me a heart attack' as the sandy eyed male laughed and patted the long haired male's back before turning back to you "we heard about what happened with Toman. sorry"

you shook your head and hugged him "I missed you Kaz" the said male laughed and hugged you back

"and— don't be sorry it's not your guys' fault" you say between broken sobs "but Baji— did you know about it? about Draken and Emma?"

he shook his head "nope! barely talked to them and even if I did I'd tell you, I can't even keep a secret like that for at least an hour ya' know" you laughed as Kazutora wiped away your tears with a soft smile on his face

"there now even better yeah?" Kazutora says as Baji chuckled and stood up from the swing "nuh-uh Kazutora quit hogging all her attention, c'mon Y/n gimme some"

you flashed them a smile "you two are idiots" but your smile soon disappeared "what's wrong? have something in mind?" Kazutora sat on a bench in the park and patted the seats next to him inviting you and Baji to sit beside him to which you two did without any complains

"wanna take revenge. not just on Draken and Emma but the whole gang. I— they betrayed me"

Baji and Kazutora smiled "we can help you with that"

end of flashback

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Y/n I— I can't do this. I can't hit you" Mikey's arms began to shake, tears starting to fall from his eyes "I can't hurt you Y/n, you mean a lot to me"

you scoffed "ehh? but you already did Mikey"

"what? how?" Mikey stares at you in fear "don't you remember? you didn't hurt me physically Mikey, you hurt me emotionally. all of Toman did. and when I was on my down days, Kazutora and Baji were there. they were there to help me. Valhalla is my family now"

"NO! STOP! TOMAN WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR FAMILY! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!" the other Toman members looked down, guilt eating them alive as they cried

you frowned "we haven't even started. why are you crying?"

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND Y/N! TOMAN WILL ALWAYS BE THERE FOR YOU! I WILL ALWAYS BE HERE FOR YOU! VALHALLA IS USING YOU AGAINST US BECAUSE YOU'RE A FORMER TOMAN MEMBER" Draken pulls you into a hug as he sobbed "come back to us Y/n. the day I knew you left, I vowed that I'll bring you back. I vowed that I'll treat you better. we'll treat you better"

Hanma pulls you away from Draken causing the blond to glare at him "do you want to fight?" Hanma holds your shoulders gently, you looked up at him. eyes staring straight into his golden ones as you nodded

Kazutora went behind you and hung his arm over your shoulder "Toman betrayed her. and as a former member of Toman I'm sure you know what we do to traitors, you're the one that taught us that after all. right? Mikey"

"then it's settled" Hanma turns to Toman "what the lady wants, the lady gets"

"y/n isn't a girl you could just betray and cheat on then say sorry as if that'll heal the pain she went through, you assholes must've forgotten that she's a woman with power" Baji smirks as he stood next to you

the men from Valhalla cheered happily as they started chanting your name

"Y/n I— why would you do this?" Draken stares at you with tear filled eyes "why'd you cheat?" Baji snorts at Kazutora's question

"enough with the chitchat. it's time to fight" you could practically hear the smirk in Hanma's voice, he smirks upon seeing the look on Mikey's face "so it's either you give up or fight. your choice honestly"

Draken steps up "if we win. we'll take Y/n and Baji back" the rest of Toman nodded in agreement, Draken turns to you "I promise. I'll bring you back."

"Goodluck I guess?" you say nonchalantly

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"HANMA!" upon hearing his name he turned around and saw you making your way towards him and Draken "I want to be the one to fight him"

Hanma raises a brow "you sure?"

"yes" you turned to Draken "I'm sure. besides, you believe in me. right?" Hanma smiles and nodded before moving out of the way to beat up the other Toman members

"I can't do this y/n. I can't hit you"

ignoring Draken's words you blew a punch at him. hard enough to make him fall to the ground. you got on top of him and continued to blow hits at his face until he pushed you off of him.

"stop this already y/n!"

you rolled your eyes at him, kicking him in the process which caught him off guard. Draken felt his body going weak, vision blurry and all the other noises around him were muffled. the only thing he could understand and hear clearly was your voice as you continued to land hits and kicks on him.

"you fucking used me for emma! emma here, emma there why'd you even date me in the first goddamn place for fuck's sake! we all know she's head over heels for you, you asshole! why make her jealous by dating me!" tears of pain and anger flowed down your eyes, falling into Draken's cheeks and mixing with his own tears

"I DID LOVE YOU! I CHEATED YES! BUT I NEVER USED YOU!" Draken's words made you stop "liar" you mutter softly eyes glaring at Draken before landing two more punches at his already bruised and bloody face

Hanma pulls you off of Draken "that's enough, you'll beat him to death if you keep doing that. fights over. let's go"

Draken watched as you turned your back and walked away with Kazutora and Baji on both your sides

"also Draken" he looks up to see Hanma looking down at him with a smirk "I'll be taking care of her from now on. your girl's mine now"

with that he walks away, following you and the others.

"you alright Ken-chin?" Draken takes Mikey's hand and nodded "yeah. sorry I'm not able to bring her back" Mikey shakes his head "it's fine. it's our fault. not just yours"

"Draken!" you ran towards him, taking out something from your pocket once you were in front of him "here" you threw a necklace at him "take it. i don't want to hold on to that anymore"

looking at the necklace, he realized it was the one he gave you on your birthday "Y/N WAIT!" you sighed and turned to him with a questioning expression

"y— you do realize that Toman will count you as a traitor right? is there really no chance of you coming back?"

"guess we're both traitors then"

once those words left your lips, he soon came to a realization that this is not some fairy tale where everyone has their very own happily every after. this is real life where love is not fair, he'll have to accept that you'll be living the future you and him talked about with another man. he'll have to accept that he's just the side character in your love story but he'll never forgive himself for fucking up when he was once the main character

© raikirii on tumblr | do not repost my works

[tpwkxxangel]

Sticky Middles

A/N: soooo i had a dream a while back about Y/N being married to a CEO and finding out he has cheated on her for a while so she literally runs away and goes to a club and ends up giving a lap dance to harry.... so this is that

when it comes to the song that they are dancing to, it is here. also the song lyrics they sing are italicized.

alsoooo let me know if you want more of these because i have a handful of other old writings

word count: 3.3k

[warnings: alcohol, cringe (i wrote this when i first started writing fics lol), mention of cheating, mild sexual content]

Life can throw you for a loop sometimes. Moments where you're forced to look back and see where everything went wrong. Where reality and time come to a standstill because the world as you know it is crashing down around you and there is literally nothing that can fix the mistake you made. I had to make a choice between loving a man that is not capable of that emotion and lose everything I've work so hard for, or leave everything I know behind and start with a clean slate.

When I found out he was, and still is, cheating on me, I knew a time would come when I needed to figure out a game plan, that's what led me to New York. He would take everything I had if I ruined his reputation, but he needs to feel this white hot pain in my chest that is keeping me awake at night, the pain that makes it so hard to breathe. He needs to feel the embarrassment and loss I feel from losing the one thing I thought was constant in my life. Love.

That's why when I came home early from visiting my mother to find his clothes on the ground, trailing to our bedroom along with a bra and panty set that definitely didn't belong to me, I turned and left for the only people I knew would help me get my revenge. Heaux Group. I vowed that once I'm done with him, my dearest Carmen would regret the day he ever met me. He's going to a place far worse than hell. He's going on my revenge list.

~~~

"Y/N! We're going to be late!" I hear Reagan yell from the other room. She's already dressed and ready to go out to the bar, but here I am, putting the final touches on my makeup. Once the red lipstick's to it's full sexy-pout power, I take a step back to look at my reflection. The woman looking back at me isn't who I was a week ago, that naive girl who had her future planed down to the T. This woman has dark auburn hair, instead of the natural color, and is styled half up half down. The tight black dress barely goes down past her finger tips when her arms are down by her sides while three inch pumps make her stand up straighter than ever before, which is an outfit I would have never worn in public, but things change. People change. I smile at my reflection, appreciating the difference.

"Done!" I call back as I make sure to grab some cash and my phone to put in my bra before walking out into the living room. Don't judge, it's the best storage space aside from pockets.

After I found out about Carmen being an unfaithful troll, I calmly went to the kitchen, all the while hearing pornographic sounds from down the hall, and placed my house key down on the counter, while leaving a message for my lawyer before quickly leaving for the airport. That was about a week ago. I've done my mourning for the loss of love. Now I'm ready to get into trouble.

I was 20 when I meet Carmen. He was 32 at the time and very successful. I've always found that attractive in men. He wooed me. I feel in love with him and the life he promised we'd have together...

And now I'm about to celebrate my 25th birthday and a divorce, yay! Carmen was my first love. I was happy until the bomb dropped that he is a two-timing-douche. So, I got on the next flight from California to New York to stay with my girl friends a little while. He won't be able to find me, at least not until I'm ready. My appearance changed so the paparazzi won't follow me and I'm on the other side of the country.

"W-o-w!" Reagan emphasized each letter as I step into her line of view. "Lottie! Come look at Y/N radiating boss bitch energy!" she shouts to my best friend who's generously housing all seven members of the group. Her fiancé Cole comes from old money, so they live in The Upper East Side of New York. Their house is absolutely amazing. Smaller than a mansion but still spacious. Ten bedrooms and eight bathrooms. Beautifully designed too. Charlotte is an interior designer and she created the perfect combination of homey and modern feel. The whites and grays make the living room really pop.

Lottie walks out in her tight red dress and jumps on the couch with Nic and Kay. "You're definitely going to have men drooling all over you tonight!" she laughs and all of us join in.

"Thanks lovelies. Let's grab the others and get this night going! I'm ready to be up to no good." I smile as their faces light up. We have planned to have a night out at one of the best clubs in New York, The Aces. Not many people know about it unless you come from some form of money. Think of it as a secret casino of sorts. Underground gambling, karaoke nights, and so many more fun things. Nothing illegal happens there though. Celebrities are often making appearances since it's an invite only place, so the public doesn't know it exists.

When all of my friends get into the car, I make my way to the passengers seat. Lottie is driving, Reagan is in the middle of Grant and Marco who are twins. They are the only two boys in the group which is a long story for another time. In the very back Nic and Kay are chatting away. This brings me back to simpler days when we would all find a day to meet up and have fun. Why did we stop? Oh yeah, I got brainwashed to believe Carmen ever loved me.

"Stop that," Lottie swats my thigh. I look at her questioningly. "You need to stop thinking about him. Be in the present with us," she reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"How do you do that?" I ask. This time it's her who is giving the questioning look. "You always seem to know what I'm thinking before I even finish the thought."

Lottie scoffs. "Please," she draws out the word. "We have been best friends since we were in diapers. Our brains are the same."

I laugh. "That's true," I take a deep breath in and release it out. "I'm going to shut that side of my brain off tonight. We can figure my life out tomorrow!"

"That's my girl!" I turn to the window to see the city passing by. So many buildings and lights. It's almost 11:00 pm and it seems like it's day time still. I guess that's why it's called 'The city that never sleeps'. We pull up to a warehouse that seems to be a storage facility. Once we all get out of the car, Lottie hands the keys over to the valet and I walk up to the door. I'm not sure how this works since I have never been here before, but I've watched plenty of movies about an eerily similar situation. A tall, muscly guy stands in front of a steel door. This must be the bouncer. Why is he wearing sunglasses at night? Ugh, men.

"How many?" he asks as I approach.

"Seven," I answer unconcerned. I sound much more confident than I really am. Inside, my heart is racing through the roof. What for? This guy could feed me to the fishes. What am I talking about? This is not the mob! Get a hold of yourself Y/N!

He looks up as my friends come to stand by me. Marco hands him a card, most likely the invitation, before straightening out his designer shirt. Thank goodness he was holding onto it.

"Oh!" the bouncer exclaims when he reads the card. "You guys can go right in. Just straight down the hall and to the left," he opens the door quickly to usher us in.

"Why was he acting all weird?" I ask Marco since he was the closest on to me.

"Do you remember Lottie's friend Danny?" I nod. "Well, he is one of the owners of this club. That's how we got in with such short notice," he says softly, his comforting brown eyes conveying what he doesn't want to bring up. Marco has always been a lovely friend to me. He is always there to bring me up and is holding my hair back when I had a little too much to drink. Again, a story for another time. He ruffles his dark brown hair as we turn the corner to enter the club.

Pink and blue strobe lights brighten the room. The music is loud but not obnoxiously loud that you can't hear the person next to you. The bar is in the center of the room, where four bartenders are working and showing off their drink making skills. One of the girls is tossing bottles up with one hand while twirling them and pouring with the other. It's quite impressive. There are benches and booths all around the place. I didn't expect it to be so packed on a Wednesday night, but I guess a lot of celebrities needed a break from the public eye.

I recognize a few familiar faces, but no one that I haven't met before. Having a well known CEO as a significant other has its perks. Living in the upper circles is one of them. I can't count the number of times I've had to play the dotting hostess to actors and singers that are friends with Carmen.

"Let's get you a drink!" Grant pulls my arm towards the bar, breaking me from my thoughts. His hair bounces with each step he takes. He looks nothing like his brother to be honest. He has blonde hair and ocean blue eyes while Marco doesn't. Their personalities are different too. While Marco is reserved and shy, Grant is loud and outgoing. The only thing they seem to have in common is they're both tall. They tower over all of our friend group.

"A cherry vodka sour, please," I order. The bartender nods and gets to work.

"Oh guys! This is our song!" Kay shouts at us before disappearing in a whirl of yellow and blue sequence, with Nic out to the dance floor. No one had ever been able to separate those two while partying. They both have such bubbly personalities that they draw people in and manage to have the time of their lives.

I laugh while thanking the bartender for my drink. I down it in record time before ordering another one. After the second one, I start to feel my body tingling. I make my way to the dance floor with Reagan and Lottie by my side. We find Nic and Kay in the middle of the pit. Soon enough, the alcohol takes over and I can feel myself loosen up. Reagan spins me around and we are all moving our hips along to the music. I make eye contact with stunning green ones. They seem to hold my attention. Maybe it's the alcohol or just me, but something seems to be hiding behind those lonely green eyes. I'm forced to break eye contact when I feel a warm hand touch my lower back.

"Hey, Y/N," I relax a little knowing that familiar raspy voice. "I heard what happened and just letting you know, you are welcome at The Aces any time," he said.

"Danny!" I throw my arms around my muscular friend and he picks me up into the comforting bear hug I needed. "I missed you man!"

"You too, Y/N. It has truly been too long. The last I heard about you, you were in Cali, but now your here and broken hearted! Next time I see that two-timing son of a bitc-"

"Shh," I cut him off by drunkly placing my fingers on his lips. "I got it covered. No need to worry that pretty little head of yours," I tap him on his head, feeling the soft locks of black hair. He does have a pretty little head. His olive skin tone and light hazel eyes drew me into him in the first place, but I soon realized we worked better as friends.

He smiles with his perfect set of teeth and checks his watch. "I'll come back by in a little bit. Gotta set up something special," he winks and disappears.

After another while dancing, a voice on the mic sounds. "Attention everyone! It's that time of the night!" everyone cheers. "We are inviting anyone who would like to, to come up and do some karaoke!" I see a few people make their way back to the tables and booths. Soon all of my friends and I sit at a booth to the left of the stage. We down a few more shots as the first member sings out an off-key version of What is Love.

"Girls," I call out to Reagan and Lottie, finishing my fourth drink. "Let's show them what we did at that bar in Jersey a while back."

"Oh no! I don't think they could handle that," Kay laughed, remembering how much trouble we got into. Let's just say it wasn't the most appropriate of performances...

"Come on! It will be fun!" I beg. I really needed this. This performance would help me forget about everything that is happening in my life right now. I'll be able to release some of this pent up frustration. My friends sigh and nod their heads. This could end up going completely wrong but I know this will be entertaining none the less.

We make our way to the side of the stage and wait for our turn. I whisper in the DJ's ear what I need and he responds with raised eyebrows.

"I think I can manage that for you," he hesitantly agrees before handing us mic sets instead of the microphones. We need to be able to move around during the song.

I turn to Reagan and Lottie. "We may be a little too drunk for this, but let's live it up out there on stage!"

"Yeah!" Lottie shouts, pumping her fist in the air.

"I don't remember all the words but it'll come back to me," Reagan chuckles, while furrowing her brows as if to recall the number from nearly six years ago. It's not a hard song to remember. We get our queue from the DJ before we make our way on stage to a bunch of cheers.

"Hello everyone! My name’s Y/N and this is Reagan and Lottie. We haven't really done this in a while. Hold onto your drinks, and prepared to be entertained."

I look out into the audience as the music begins. We use a stripped version of the original song to make it a little more modern and sensual. My first lines come up, shortly followed by Lottie and Reagan coming in with the harmony.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they're like, it's better than yours damn right, it's better than yours I can teach you but I have to charge

With the slow beat, I look out into the crowd. I meet the same green eyes as the ones on the dance floor. In a moment of pure instinct, I make my way over to his chair. He smirks with those cherry red lips as he sees my path. His tongue darts out to wet them before moving his lower lip between his teeth. I make my way behind his chair and place my left hand on his shoulder while my right fans over his chest. His shirt is only buttoned up halfway, so I feel the warmth of his skin tingling my fingertips.

I know you want it

I sing while dragging my hand across his chest.

The thing that makes me, oh

I slowly walk around and sit on his lap, straddling him, and his hands instantly hold onto me as I lean backwards in a big circular movement.

What the guys go crazy for

I spring back up, only to be face to face with the man. I ghost my lips over his just barely. His warm breath hits my face and tickles my lips as I whisper in his ear.

They lose their minds The way I whine

I roll my hips slightly before I get up off him. I could have sworn I heard a delighted groan.

I think it's time

A small crowd has formed in front of the stage. Seaneen takes the second verse and grinds on another guy before coming back to the stage.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they're like, it's better than yours I can teach you but I have to charge

We do our big finish before the entire place erupts into applause. We run off stage after returning the equipment and make our way to our friends in the booth.

"Oh my Gosh! You guys were amazing!" Nic shouts, pulling us into hugs.

"That is exactly what I needed!" I exclaim, laughing and embracing the fact that I finally feel free.

"Um, Y/N?" I turn to an unusually frozen Grant. "You don't happen to know who you just gave the mini lap dance to, do you?" he continues nervously.

I think back to the man with the captivating green eyes. I don't remember looking anywhere by his eyes and lips. I don't think I wanted to. Those lips looked so soft and welcoming. I wonder what they'd feel like pressed against my-

"No. I saw him earlier and it seemed right in the moment," I justify. If this is about not knowing who the guy was, Carmen did just cheat on me and I'm in the middle of a breakup. I'm angry and hurt and I took it out by giving a stranger a little show. Nothing too crazy. Maybe I am a little too drunk?

"Well, he seems to be coming over here," Marco points out. I turn around and sure enough, the green eyed beauty is making his way towards our booth. I take this moment to really took at him. The way his jaw is so sharp it can cut rock, the way his brown curls bounce on top of his head, the way his suit clings to his toned, muscular body, the smirk that seems to be naturally on his lips. It's not until those lips formed words that I recognize the mystery man.

"Hello beautiful," his British voice sounds. "I don't believe we've met, I'm Harry."

Oh shit...I just gave a lap dance to Harry fucking Styles.

[strangermarvelss]

I just devoured TPOLYG up to tonight’s chapter. It’s so raw and real, your words really make that pang hit me right in the chest and I found myself feeling angry when Eddie kept pushing about Steve, when he really has no right to be upset since he is the one who created this situation in the first place AND didn’t he jump into a relationship right away?

I had a few questions, I don’t know if this will come as the story unfolds, but I was curious about your thoughts. Did he start dating the other woman before leaving his wife or after? His actions have been so icky and it seems like this chapter is a turning point for him but I kinda want to beg reader to just move on with her life bc Eddie has treated her so terribly and caused her so much pain.

Also, do you think his change of heart is because of Christopher and feeling guilty about not giving him the happy childhood he vowed to give him or is it that he suddenly realizes he’s been a complete a-hole to his wife and he still loves her and really wants her back? I took it as him wanting to repair his marriage for the sake of his son (who is incredibly important, of course) but his ex-wife deserves to be loved, cherished, and protected too. And perhaps it’s bc I’m a kid of divorced parents and was old enough at the time to see that my parents were desperately trying to hold on for us (the kids), maybe thinking that divorce would scar us for life. But there was something so broken that made everything seem artificial and we knew there really wasn’t any love there. They ended up getting divorced eventually and it ended up being a relief for us all bc they were just so “clinical” with each other and like empty shells of people who were miserable and there was no warmth between them. And their relationship actually got better after the divorce bc they weren’t forcing themselves to be in a situation that made them unhappy. I didn’t really grasp what hitting that point would feel like, you know, what it would take for someone to throw their hands up and say fuck it, there’s too much scar tissue, I’m out. But reading your fic and seeing it from the wife’s perspective made it click for me. I don’t blame her for losing her shit and feeling like her marriage is over and Eddie doesn’t care about her anymore. And it’s that feeling of not knowing where it went wrong but you desperately love someone but they crushed your heart into a million pieces. And they’re already sleeping with someone else?! Oooh makes me sick thinking of that scenario, where your husband is already in bed with someone else during a separation 🤢 This might be me tapping into a deep need for revenge here but I feel like it would be totally fine for reader to have a fling too, to cancel out Eddie’s girlfriend? Like they’re even and maybe it’s easier to get over the infidelity?

Anyhoo, that was long and I’m ranting, sorry! I’m not even sure if those are questions or just me pondering into the ether. The short version of this is I’m invested in this story and am really enjoying it and looking forward to what the future brings for this family. Thanks for putting this fantastic work out there for us to enjoy.

firstly, i'm sorry you had to witness the fighting when you were young between your parents, it can be difficult because i witnessed that too, but i'm glad they have a better relationship now that they aren't with one another.

to answer your questions: eddie got with shirley after they separated. i don't see eddie to be the kid to cheat in any scenario or AU. just think of the song "traitor" by olivia rodrigo

it took you two weeks, to go off and date her

guess you didn't cheat. but you're still a traitor

and the other question is a bit of both. he realizes his sons feelings at the top of the stairs and listening to his wife, since they're still married, say how hurt she really is and call him edward and smack him really made him realize he's fucked up. more on this will come in part 6

i'm so glad you're enjoying the series! it's super fun to write and i'm glad to have the amount of support i've been getting :)

[butterflies-dragons]

In successive tilts, Ser Ryam unhorsed Ronnel Baratheon, Arthor Oakheart, Simon Dondarrion, Harys Hogg (Harry the Ham, to the commons), and two Kingsguard knights, Lorence Roxton, and Lucamore Strong. When the young gallant trotted up to the royal box and crowned Good Queen Alysanne as his queen of love and beauty, the commons roared their approval." What do you think about Ser Ryam Redwyne? Also names are similar to Joffery B, Arys Oakheart, Beric D, Harry the heir etc.

What do you think about Ser Ryam Redwyne?

It seems he was a great knight, the songs say so. But I don't think he was a good person.

Ser Ryam discovered that Ser Lucamore Strong broke his vows as a Kingsguard. Ser Lucamore married 3 different women in secret and fathered like a dozen children with them. Then Ser Ryam snitched Ser Lucamore, who was gelded and sent to the Night's Watch.

So basically Ser Ryam ruined not only the life of Ser Lucamore but also the lives of the 3 wives and the dozen of children.

Was Ser Ryam too honorable to remain silent? Was he jealous of Ser Lucamore having 3 wives? Did he think about the future of those 3 cheated women and their children? Was it worth to say the truth and got his fellow Kingsguard not only exiled but gelded?

My theory is that Ser Ryam was gay and in love with Ser Lucamore so since he was rejected, he got revenge over him.

I also think that Ser Ryam's replacement Criston Cole was also gay and at being rejected by Ser Harwin Strong, he got his revenged against him and Rhaenyra by starting the Dance of the Dragons. But that's just me and my conspiracy theories started by spurned suitors. So don't mind me.

Also names are similar to Joffery B, Arys Oakheart, Beric D, Harry the heir etc.

I think that by surrounding Alysanne with people from the same houses as the people around Sansa, GRRM was hinting at their parallels/similarities. He put those names around Alysanne to make us think about Sansa that was surrounded by people with the same or similar surnames.

He did that a lot in Fire & Blood, where we meet a character named Ser Joffrey Doggett, also known as the Red Dog of the Hills. He was a knight from House Doggett, a noble house from the westerlands, vassals of House Lannister. Ser Joffrey’s family was burned by Balerion the Black Dread.  The day of his coronation, Jaehaerys I Targaryen appointed Ser Joffrey a member of the Kingsguard. Much later, Ser Joffrey Doggett flew with Queen Alysanne on her dragon Silverwing. Ser Joffrey Doggett sounds like a combination of Joffrey Lannister and his sworn sword and later Kingsguard Sandor Clegane, the Hound. Both characters closely connected with Sansa Stark.

Good Queen Alysanne is also heavily associated with Maidenpool and the tales of Florian and Jonquil. Alysanne’s own love story with Jaehaerys is compared to Florian and Jonquil. Later Alysanne suffered an attempted murder perpetuated by three women at Maidenpool (A sad and twisted version of Jonquil bathing with her sisters in the pool). I find this incident a metaphor of that famous Littlefinger line: “Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow.” Maidenpool was a place where a great love story occurred but for Alysanne was also the place where other women tried to murder her. But this awful incident was the cause of Alysanne taking on a female knight to protect her as her sworn shield, with a very singular name, Jonquil Darke.

The slender mystery knight known only as the Serpent in Scarlet also had a great following; when finally defeated and unmasked, “he” proved to be a woman, Jonquil Darke, a bastard daughter of the Lord of Duskendale. — The Year of The three Brides—49 AC, Fire & Blood - Volume I

Jonquil Darke competed for a place in Jaehaerys’s Kingsguard, like Brienne did to get a place in Renly’s Rainbow Kingsguard. While Brienne succeeded, Jonquil Darke failed, but later Good Queen Alysanne chose her as her personal sworn shield.

But Jonquil Darke, Alysanne’s sworn shield, is not only connected with Brienne of Tarth, Sansa’s female sworn sword, but also with Dontos, Sansa’s false Florian, since both Jonquil and Dontos have their origins in Duskendale.

You can read more about Sansa and Good Queen Alysanne here.

GRRM did the same with Lady Ashford from "The Hedge Knight" tale and the champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow held in her honor. Lady Ashford and her champions parallel Sansa and her suitors:

The last five champions of the tourney that we know for certain are the five champions at the end of the first day:

Ser Tybolt Lannister, who defeated Ser Androw Ashford.

Ser Lyonel Baratheon, who defeated Ser Robert Ashford.

Lord Leo Tyrell

Ser Humfrey Hardyng

Prince Valarr Targaryen

Four out of five of these champions’ last names match with the last names of the men betrothed or already married to Sansa Stark:

Tyrion Lannister: Sansa Stark’s husband, a match arranged by Tywin Lannister.

Joffrey Baratheon: Sansa’s first betrothed, a match arranged by Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon.

Willas Tyrell: Sansa’s second betrothed, a match arranged by Olenna Tyrell.

Harry Hardyng: betrothed to Alayne Stone, a match arranged by Petyr Baelish and Anya Waynwood.

And there are more people involved in the Tourney at Ashford Meadow and other characters mentioned in "The Hedge Knight" tale that are from the same houses as the people around Sansa.

All these details are deliberate, not merely coincidental.

You can read more about Sansa and the Tourney at Ashford Meadow here.

Thanks for your message.

[ginazmemeoir]

okay so i know you're super interested and knowledgeable about mythology, so i thought that there's no harm in asking for help, right?

i kinda have to do a 60+ page project on the Mahabharata and the role of women in Mahabharata. do you have any fun facts or anything? all of it will be greatly appreciated

 ok the reason this has taken me a significant time to respond is because i was thinking - what best way to answer this. so i have chosen the analysis of different aspects of their lives, rather than do a full character-by-character analysis cause that would end up being a full fledged book. also this is still gonna be like 6 pages. so here we go.

1. BIRTH : 

Most of the women in the Mahabharata have an unusual birth, all predestined to do something. Ganga is said to be born from Vishnu’s feet and descended form the heavens. Urvashi and Menaka were the Queens of the Apsaras, born from Brahma’s thighs. Devayani and Sharmishtha were the daughters of Shukracharya and the asura king Virupaksha respectively. Shakuntala was Menaka and Vishwamitra’s daughter, who was found abandoned beneath some flying cranes. Satyavati was born out of a fish which ingested a king’s sperm and was then adopted by the chief of fishermen. Gandhari was born to bear a hundred sons, which she requested from Shiva in her previous birth (some also say her present birth). Amba was reborn as a transman after she burnt herself alive to have revenge on Bhishma. Draupadi was born out of literal fire, cursed to bring the destruction of a thousand clans, and gifted to marry five husbands, each with a quality she wanted. Subhadra was born as an incarnation of Yogamaya, while Kripi (Drona’s wife) was born from a deer.

2. LOVE AND MARRIAGE : 

There is a pretty contrasting change in the way women choose their partners, and got married in the Mahabharata. This reflects their declining status in society.

Urvashi and Menaka have had several affairs and marriages. Urvashi left Pururavas when he failed to fulfill her conditions, and later asked her descendant Arjun to have sex with her. When he refused, she cursed him to become a transwoman for a year, which he could choose. 

Devayani and Sharmishtha ended up getting married to the same man. Devayani’s husband Yayati, whom she married out of love, cheated on her with Sharmishtha. Devayani, however, had Yayati cursed with sterility and old age as revenge. So technically, women also had a right to a divorce i guess? not officially, but they could definitely leave their husband’s house or humiliate him.

Shakuntala marries Dushyant through the gandharva rites, with the forest as her witness. Their conflicting accounts about the end of her story - Vyasa states that mortified by her indignation at Dushyant’s hands, she leaves him with her son and returns to the forest. Kalidasa states Dushyant ends up remembering her and bringing her back as his lawfully wedded wife.

Ganga is the first wife of Shantanu, and she married him only on the condition that he would never question her. Finally, when he stops her from drowning their eighth son, she breaks her marriage and goes away with the child who grows up to be Devavrata.

Satyavati actually has two meaningful encounters - once with Parashara (son of Vashishtha) and the other with Shantanu. With Parashara, she was ferrying him across the Yamuna when he professed he wanted to have sex with her. Satyavati agreed on two conditions - if she gets pregnant, she would deliver within a day and the child wouldn’t be her responsibility and secondly, Parashara would grant her any boon she wanted. Thus, she gave birth to Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa (the dark skinned boy born on an island) who was brought up by Parashara, and plus got blessed by an intoxicating smell. With Shantanu, even though she was young enough to be his daughter, she holds up a condition that only her children would inherit the Kuru throne, to fulfill which Devavrata takes his terrible oath and becomes Bhishma. Only then does she marry Shantanu. She literally forged her own destiny and had control over her decisions, something which she herself denies later to other women.

Satyavati orders Bhishma to abduct the three princesses of Kashi - Amba, Ambika and Ambalika, as brides for her drunkard son Vichitravirya. Thus, she snatches away the same freedom of marriage she had enjoyed. Amba resists her abduction, however ends up being rejected from her boyfriend King Shalva, for she was now “another man’s property”. She demands Bhishma marry her to salvage her honor, which he denies due to his oath of celibacy. Satyavati could’ve made him break the vow, which she doesn’t. Amba goes to all the kings in the world, seeking one who would salvage her honor. None do, for all are afraid of Bhishma, so she curses all that their lineages would go extinct in a war fought to salvage another woman’s honour in another time. Finally she approaches Parashuram, Bhishma’s teacher. Enraged, Parashuram fights Bhishma but realizes that their fight could end the world. That is one Amba burns herself alive, and curses Bhishma that she would be reborn, and reclaim her revenge. Later, Satyavati forces Ambika and Ambalika to undergo niyog with Vyas after Virya’s death (niyog was practiced when a man died without an heir, so another male member of the family was called to produce an heir with the widow). Thus she also snatches the same sexual freedom which she enjoyed from her daughter in laws. Some say this was also a part of Satyavati’s plan to ensure that only her lineage sits on the throne, because biologically Vyasa is Satyavati’s son, and not Shantanu’s, thus making the children he fathered Satyavati’s blood, and not Kuru blood as they legally claim.

Kunti was forced to have a child with Surya, just because of a childish boon she wanted to try out. Later, she choses Pandu, Ambalika’s son, from a select swayamvara of princes. She couldn’t have chosen another man as others before her had.

Satyavati yet again snatches the same freedom she took for herself. Bhishma is ordered to march to Gandhara and get it’s princess, Gandhari, as a bride for the blind prince Dhritarashtra. When her father Subala resists, Satyavati has him destroy the entire kingdom and kill all of Gandhari���s family, sparing her and her youngest brother Shakuni. Thus Gandhari has no say in her own marriage, for the first time in the Kuru dynasty. Even her act of remaining blindfolded in solidarity with her husband is often pedestalized, the pain behind it overlooked. This is also what gives birth to Shakuni’s burning thirst for revenge and the destruction of the entire Kuru dynasty, just like his family was killed in front of his eyes. One has to understsand that the Mahabharata was simply the sum of past sins and curses and boons and births. Pinning it on Draupadi, who was the last character in this play of power, reduces this epic’s magnificence.

Duryodhana’s marriage with Bhanumati is like the typical fairy tale we hear - she specifically tells him to abduct her and marry her so she doesn’t end up marrying some random dick she doesn’t even know. Again, the woman is in control of her marriage, however the fact that a marriage is being forced on her comes to the fore now.

Hidimbaa, Bhima’s first wife, was a rakshas princess and she marries Bhima by having him kill her brother who wanted to eat him instead. Hidimbaa never goes with Bhima, and instead raises her son Ghatotkacha single handedly and looks after her queendom. This shows a major shift in the status of a woman - the so called “civilized” society keeps reducing the freedom and space given to them, while tribal customs continue to uphold individuality.

Draupadi’s marriage symbolises the status of women perfectly at the time. She’s not a woman with a say in her marriage - instead she’s reduced to a prize, a political alliance to be won in an archery competition. Had Arjun not won, Draupadi would’ve had to keep her head down and just marry the other person because she has no choice.

Subhadra’s marriage is in stark contrast. Arjun is her second cousin (barf) and she abducts him from her own wedding (which was happening to Duryodhana) and marries Arjun with Krishna’s blessings. Subhadra takes the same freedom that Draupadi was never offered. Also, Draupadi and Subhadra would become Arjuna’s only wives - none of his other “companions” would get the same title or status.

Dushala is married to Jayadrath, king of Sindh. The marriage was an unhappy one.

Balarama’s daughter Sulakshana runs away with Ghatotkacha’s help and marries her first cousin Abhimanyu, while Uttara is offered as a political alliance. Again there’s a stark contrast between the two, and it holds a mirror to society - how once the same freedom offered to women had now become a thing of legends.

3. POLITICS AND AMBITIONS

Devayani had wanted to snub Sharmishtha her whole life because of the one major fight they had which she lost. Being the daughter of Shukracharya, Devayani had more resources at her disposal, and she makes good use of them by transforming Sharmishtha, a princess, into her slave. Later, she also makes sure Yayati is punished for his adultery.

Shakuntala played kingmaker - according to the Mahabharata she went back to the forest only after securing her son’s right to the throne. According to Kalidasa, she has no ambitions whatsoever.

Satyavati’s political ambitions have already been discussed above - her rise to power, her way of ensuring that only her blood claims the throne, and the fact that she was willing to do anything for what she wanted. Another factor into this is caste - Satyavati is often ridiculed as Daseyi (daughter of a slave) and is discriminated against because of her caste as a fisherwoman.

Amba’s ambitions have also been discussed above - her burning desire for revenge. When she is reborn as Shikhandi, she deliberately has her gender changed before her marriage so that she transforms into a man.

The tussle between Kunti and Gandhari for power is an actual stuff of legends. While Kunti is mostly projected as a hapless widow raising five boys, most people forget that she’s a powerful princess, and was originally the Empress of Hastinapur, later turned widow. She knows the deadly game of politics and it's nuances, and the same goes for Gandhari. According to the epics, the game played between these two queens was subtle, and not open. For example, Gandhari had took over Kunti’s quarters and had her sleep close to the servant’s quarters. Kunti too secures her own future by convincing Bhishma to back her and her son’s claim to the throne. One famous tale recounts that during a particular festival, Gandhari calls in a hundred elephants covered in gold for the worship. Since Kunti has no resources of her own and instead has to use toy elephants made of clay, she asks Arjuna to do something, who promptly goes to the heavens and brings back Airavata, the king of all elephants and Indra’s vahana, for Kunti. This rivalry comes to the open when the kingdom is divided and the wastelands and forests, Khandavaprastha, is handed to the Pandavas. Kunti accuses Gandhari of deliberately giving the useless part to her sons, while Gandhari accuses her of nurturing the wish for the throne in her sons’ hearts. This rivalry, however, comes to an end with the war, and both reconcile.

Kunti is also shown to be heartless/overprotective when it comes to her kids, which is understandable given the circumstances in which they were brought up. However, that doesn’t justify the fact that she made Bhima leave Hidimbaa in the forest. It also doesn’t justify the fact that originally, when she got to know that she and her sons were to be burnt alive in the Varnavata Summer Palace, she burnt alive another mother and all her children who had come there from the forest as guests, along with the caretaker Purochana who was in on the plan, as a cover so they could escape. It also doesn’t justify her making Draupadi marry all five brothers so there could never be “a fight over a woman”. Her masterstroke, however, comes during the War. What I believe is, she should have told Karna the entire truth and accepted him the moment she saw him. However, she waited, and then finally when the War arrives, she tells him the truth and emotionally manipulates him. Softening Karna’s heart, she protects four of her sons, and she had enough faith in Krishna to protect the fifth. It could also be genuine affection, but I refuse to believe that.

Draupadi has to face a much tougher life though. Kunti had already tied her to all five brothers as their “mutual” wife. One can only imagine the pain and endurance she goes through, battling her in-laws and her own family. She later has the Pandavas promise that no other wife of their could get the title of wife or the status, and couldn’t enter the Kuru household or Indraprastha. Even Subhadra was never allowed inside Hastinapur and Indraprastha, and instead spent her entire life in Dwarka. Her “laugh” at Duryondhana’s stumble in Indraprastha could be genuine fun, and also her own way of getting back at him for all those years of injustice. In the forest during exile, she has to keep all her wits about her, as she encounters wrathful sages, vengeful spirits, and kings with ill intents. As a hairdresser, she had virtually no power and so could do nothing herself when the queen’s brother, Kichak, tries to rape her. However, she invites Bhima over (who’s living as a cook) and he easily kills Kichak. What’s really infuriating is the way people pin the entire carnage that follows on her head - essentially victim shaming. People say “so what if she was disrobed publicly? does that mean she would destroy that entire clan, who stood mum and watched?” Yes. Yes it does. And you can’t give the excuse “she is fire’s daughter” and all. NO. Then, she wasn’t the weapon summoned to destroy a thousand clans, daughter of fire, Empress of Indraprastha or Princess of Panchala. At that moment, she was a woman being disrobed publicly. A woman lost in a wager like cattle. Nobody rose to defend her, except Vikarna, a Kaurava and Krishna, the man she regards as her own brother. This is what makes a bold statement about women - she’s no longer a person, but a commodity to be owned by someone. It reflects the rot and decay of our society, which increases day by day. What I believe is, Draupadi’s demand for retribution is perfectly justified - her wish to bathe in the blood of the one who disrobed her, dragged her by her hair all the way to the Imperial Coury, perfectly justified. Her wish to see the corpse of all those who stood silent as she was being disrobed, or those who mocked, pile up in the great blood soaked field of Kurukshetra. Her heart however melts the instant she sees the “great army of widows and orphans” who arrive at Kurukshetra.

4. CHILDREN

A recurring, patriarchal theme in all Hindu epics is the fact that a woman’s happiness was linked to her children, most of all sons.

All of Devayani’s five sons were banished and cursed when they refused to take up their father’s old age and sterility while in their youth. The same fate awaited Sharmishtha’s sons. Only the youngest, Puru, agrees and is then pronounced king after a thousand years, when Yayati returns him back his youth. Moreover, Devayani has to give her daughter Madhavi to a priest on Yayati’s order, who is later raped by four kings as a teenager and gives birth to four great sons. These sons are later asked to give up a quarter each of their merit earned on earth to Yayati, who was denied passage to heaven for all of his sins. This shows the fact that Indian/South Asian society continues to be dominated by those before us – our parents and their parents – and we have to comply. This is in contrast with Western philosophy, which makes way for the younger generation. In South Asian society, both have to co-exist, with the older often domineering.

 Ganga’s sons were actually the eight Vasus who were cursed to live terrible lives as humans. By drowning seven of them the moment they are born, Ganga ensures that they spend minimum time in the mortal realm and return back to the heavens. The eldest, Prabhas, was cursed to live the most terrible life of them all, which ends up happening - Devavrata, later Bhishma, couldn’t be killed after birth. He lives a terrible life - a prince reduced to a slave of the throne, innocent blood on his hands, no family of his own, and he couldn’t even decide whom he wanted to fight for. This shows the theme of overlapping stories, something which keeps recurring in Hinduism in general.

Satyavati’s elder son Chitrangada was killed in a war with the gandharva king, Chitrangada. Her other son, Vichitravirya, gave himself up to wine and intoxication and died young. Her son with Parashara, though, outlives till the time of Janmajeya, Arjuna’s great grandson. Krishna Dwaipayana Vyasa ends up compiling all the Vedas and writing the famous Mahabharata. He also keeps coming here and there in the epic, for example Satyavati inviting him to perfrom niyog forcefully with her daughter in laws and produce heirs.

Ambika had her eyes shut the entire time during her rape/niyog, and so the child born - Dhritarashtra, was blind. Ambalika was shaking and fearful the whole time, so her son Pandu was born weak. Vyasa had consentful sex with a palace maid, and the son born to her, Vidura, would’ve been the perfect heir. However, Dhritarashtra was denied kingship by virtued of his blindness, while Vidura was denied the throne by virtue of his mother’s caste. Pandu later retires following a curse, and so Dhritarashtra takes up the kingship. He is shown to be a spiteful character initially, frustrated that despite being the elder one and perfect, he was denied the throne because he was blind. He passes on the same frustration and poison to his children.

Gandhari’s pregnancy was special. She was pregnant for two full years, in which time Dhritarashtra had another son, Yuyutsu, through a palace maid. Gandhari’s gestation period was equal to that of an elephant, and had she had just a little more patience, she would’ve given birth to a literal god. however, frustrated with the fact that her husband had cheated on her, she kept beating her womb each night with a red-hot iron rod, until she gave birth to an undeveloped foetus. Vyasa intervenes by cutting it up into 101 pieces and “hatching” them in vats of ghee in an incubation chamber (historians and scientists say this could be the earliest documented evidence of IVF or incubation chambers), resulting in the 100 Kauravas and their only sister, Dushala. Some say that evil omens were there during their birth. This also demonstrates that a woman’s social holding was also related to the no. of children she had, especially sons. 

 Kunti had received a boon from Durvasa that she could have a child with any god she wanted. Her experimentation with the boon leads to her unwanted and forced pregnancy of Karna. Historians suspect this could be a teen pregnancy, logically, and ill equipped emotionally and physically handle a baby at that stage in her life, she cast him away in the river (still unjustified i think). This baby grew up to be Karna, filled with resentment over his fate. Later, when Pandu is cursed with sterility and the fact that if he dares touch a woman out of love he would die, Kunti uses this boon again to have three sons from three gods – Yama, the god of death and law; Vayu, the god of wind and Indra, the king of the gods and god of rain and thunder. Historians speculate this could be a cover for niyog (mentioned above). Later, Kunti begrudgingly bestows this boon upon Pandu’s favorite wife, Madri, who begets twins from the twin gods the Ashwin Kumaras.

Draupadi has five sons with her husbands - Prativindhya (from Yudhishthira), Sutasoma (from Bhima), Shrutakarman (from Arjun), Satanaka (from Nakul) and Shrutasena (from Sahadev). None of them have children of their of their own and die a gruesome death, killed by Ashwatthama in his murderous frenzy.

Subhadra’s son Abhimanyu features more prominently in the epic. Legends say he knew how to enter into a chakravyuh from the moment he was born, but not how to exit. During the war, he enters a chakravyuh formed by the Kauravas, where he is unfairly killed - surrounded by ten men, and defenseless. He dies trying to defend himself by using a chariot wheel.

The other wives of the Pandavas suffer for a war that they weren’t even a part of. Hidimba’s son Ghatotkacha helps the Pandavas and turns the tide towards them. He grows into a strong Asura and uses his magic, and is eventually killed by Karna using Shakti, the weapon he received from Indra. Uloopi’s (Arjuna’s Naga wife, daughter of the Naga king Vasuki) son Iravan is killed before the war itself as a sacrifice to appease Chamundi, and his head is mounted on a hill so he can survey the war. The same fate awaited Ghatotkacha’s son Barbareek. Since he was the strongest warrior any side and could finish the war in a second, Krishna demanded his head as a sacrifice so that he couldn’t participate in the war, in return promising him eternal worship (Barbareek is worshipped as Khatushyam in Rajasthan). Chitrangada (Arjuna’s androgynous warrior wife, Queen of Manipur) strategically protects herself and her kingdom from harm. However, owing to a curse Ganga gives to Arjuna, Chitrangada’s son Babruvahan ends up killing his own father Arjuna and then later commits suicide. They’re both revived by Uloopi using the Nagamani.

Duryodhana’s wife, Bhanumati, also suffers. Her son Lakshmana, who was originally a poet, was killef by Abhimanyu when he was defenseless, while her daughter Lakshmanaa was raped by Krishna’s son Samba and then later married to him to save face.

Karna’s first wife Vishakha loses all her sons and commits suicide. His other wife Uruvi’s only son, Vrishaketu, is spared because he was only 9 at the time of the War and thus, lived.

Dushala’s sons die defending Sindh from the Pandavas, and only Dushala and her grandson are spared. Another account says she forced her sons to enter the war, and they all died there.

Uttara’s son Pareekshit was killed within the womb by Ashwatthama, when he fired the most powerful missile in the world, the Brahmastra, at her womb. Krishna revives the child through his powers, and then curses Ashwatthama to remain immortal, yet suffer through a thousand diseases every second for the sin of trying to murder an unborn.

Vyasa’s son Sukadev, blessed with “the memory of a parrot” memorises the entire Mahabharata.

Pareekshit is later killed by the Naga king Takshak, as revenge for the murder of his family through Arjuna’s (Pareekshit’s grandfather) hands when he burnt the Khandava forest. In revenge, his son Janmajeya conducts a powerful Sarpa Satra where all the nagas of the world are killed. The genocide is stopped by Asita, a Naga sage, who along with Sukadeva and Jaimini recited the entire Mahabharata to him and made him revive the snakes killed.

5. DEATH

Satyavati dies along with Ambika and Ambalika in the forest after taking retirement. She drowns in the very same Yamuna which turned her life around.

Amba, reborn as Shikhandi, dies in the war.

Gandhari dies heartbroken, while Kunti dies in a fire.

Draupadi dies while trying to reach heaven via the Himalayas. None of her husbands so much as even look at her as she falls to her death.

Subhadra dies with the tsunami sent by Varuna (god of the seas) which destroyed Dwarka.

The deaths of all of these women are ironic, but also demonstrate the rule of Karma .

Not much is known of the death of the other women in this magnificent epic.

I hope this serves as a good and honest reminder about the women of the Mahabharata, and helps with your project.

[infinitelytheheartexpands]

Traversing the Verdi Canon #13: La battaglia di Legnano

Not counting revisions and other non-operatic works of Verdi’s, we’re halfway there!

Production: Piacenza 2005. A perfectly decent traditional production, albeit not particularly interesting with the material.

Synopsis: Milan and Como, 1176. the Lombards (them again!) and other people on the Italian peninsula have been engaged in a long war against Federico Barbarossa (bass). Rolando (baritone) is leading them. Suddenly, enter Arrigo (tenor), Rolando’s best friend whom everyone thought dead of battle wounds for a LONG time. they reunite and everyone swears to defend Milan at all costs. meanwhile, Rolando’s wife Lida (soprano) is depressed on account of her parents, her brothers, and her ex-boyfriend (Arrigo!) all dying in the war, so...understandable. on top of that, Rolando’s German prisoner Marcovaldo (baritone) has a massive, unreciprocated crush on Lida. Arrigo comes in and is like “LiDa YoU mArRiEd SoMeOnE eLsE yOu WhOrE” and Lida’s like “LITERALLY EVERYONE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD” but Arrigo doesn’t listen to her on account of him being a tenor. meanwhile, Arrigo and Rolando go to Como to persuade the leaders to help them fight Barbarossa but Barbarossa himself enters and is like “lol y’all can go screw yourselves anyway tell Milan that they should just give up” so they go back to Milan.

Arrigo, who now has a Death Wish TM, decides to join the (yes, this is their actual name) Knights of Death against Barbarossa. Lida finds out about this and writes him a letter telling him not to do it and sends it along with her maid Imelda (mezzo). then, Rolando comes in with his and Lida’s son and is like “hey Lida if anything happens to me just bring him up as a good Italian” and it’s really quite sweet. then Arrigo comes in and Rolando, who doesn’t know about the whole Knights of Death thing, tells Arrigo to take care of Lida and son if anything should happen to him. Meanwhile, Marcovaldo has intercepted the note and he shows it to Rolando, who vows revenge because...he thinks that Lida cheated on him. Lida, not having heard anything from Arrigo re: the note, decides to go to his tower to try to persuade him to stay. while there, Rolando shows up so she hides on the balcony, but unfortunately he finds her almost immediately (which is why you do not hide on a balcony) and declares that he will punish them both, especially Arrigo, by locking them both inside the tower and preventing them from leaving. Arrigo circumvents this by jumping out the window and yelling “VIVA ITALIA!!!”

then everyone’s outside a church in Milan and they’re all waiting for news of the battle and such. Imelda tells Lida that Arrigo survived his jump and is in battle. then a bunch of officials come in and announce the Italians have defeated Barbarossa and that Arrigo wounded the man himself. celebration! unfortunately, Arrigo was also mortally wounded. Arrigo tells Rolando that he didn’t have an affair with Lida and Rolando is like “well you helped save the country so obviously you couldn’t have had an affair with my wife” (not the greatest logic but...it works I guess) so everyone makes up and then Arrigo dies for real this time THE END.

Experience: the first and only other time I ever watched this opera was in the summer of 2018. fun opera that I really enjoyed at the time but didn’t have huge staying power. also the production I watched was kinda confusing and didn’t make a whole lot of linear sense.

Thoughts: This is quite an interesting opera.

This is the last opera of what I like to call Verdi’s “voice of a nation” period: these stirring, big-scale, mostly-political melodrama that dominated his output during the 1840s. but it is also a transition piece: there is the big-chorus, brassy, “viva Italia!” element (besides, this piece, written during the fervor of the revolutions of 1848), but it is also a very intimate relationship-driven drama a la the next five operas Verdi would write (side note: Lida, Arrigo, and Rolando should have just had an OT3. come on) with plenty of fascinating music, like the use of motifs, the Knights of Death scene that could easily be mistaken for music from Don Carlo, and so on. In fact, one could say that this is the germination point for the “synthesis dramas” (my term) of the second half of the 1850s and of the 1860s. granted, the balance between the personal and the political isn’t quite as deftly held here as in those operas (most notably, the short Act II almost feels superfluous in some respects, although the music is excellent), but the effort is honest and those small blips aside, the feelings are genuine.

it’s messy, it’s melodramatic, it’s tuneful, it’s honest, it’s honestly brilliant. I really enjoyed getting to know this one again. 

Now on to the brilliant stretch of social dramas that dominates for the next three and a half years (five operas between December 1849 and March 1853)...but first, this series will take a brief detour into some of Verdi’s non-operatic music. stay tuned!

edit: apparently Verdi and his librettists ran out of heroine-naming creativity for a spell here because the first names of the three Verdi female leads from 1849 and 1850 are Lida, Luisa, and Lina, which all look almost identical and to an extent sound very similar as well, so...

(and yes, I realize that has to do with source material as well. I just thought it was funny.)