#and how little he liked bloodshed and war

[frogchiro]

virgin sacrifice reader offered to war god ghost?? prepare to be his lovely wife instead of a sacrifice with at least 10 demigods running around, he wants to raise strong warriors!

Ghost would definitely be a god similiar to Ares; a god of war, brutality, bloodshed, masculinity and virility. Men go and pray by his shrine or in his dedicated temple to give them strength in both battle and bed, to be a strong and unbeatable warrior and be able to father strong, healthy children.

One such temple, the main one, is in a surprisingly remote location, surrounded not by a major city or capital but a few villages. According to myths it was this place where a brutal battle took place millenia ago where the fearsome god Ghost defeated an army all by himself, the blood of his slain enemies served to make the land fertile and for many villages to grow and prosper...until now.

Usually sacrifaces to appease the god would be made by the men of the villages; black stallions, the strongest bulls, wine, silver and pure steel, everything that has connections to masculinity and power, however some kind of horrible fatum seems to hang over your little village. The animals either die young or are sickly and weak, the wine turns out sour like vinegar, there in so money to buy anything either and it's taken as a curse by the elders. If nothing will be done and Ghost won't have his sacrifice who knows what will happen?

So they decide on the next best thing, a desperate last choice reach in hopes to appease the brutal god-a virgin sacrifice. The prettiest, unmarried and untouched young woman is to be chosen, dressed in the finest, gauzy silks and locked inside the stone temple in hopes that the god will come down and the blood of a slain virgin will calm his fury. Luck wasn't on your side it seems, you were chosen.

All you could remember were the desperate cries of your mother, the dissapointed remorseful look on your father's face and the ritual cleansing of the old crones in the village. You were cleaned in rose water, intricate patterns were drawn with a mixture of honey, mushed up berries and flowers on your breasts, around your nipples and bellybutton, and the most intricate was drawn on the place where your womb was. You were clothed in a white gauzy dress that was a symbol of your purity and then you were bound and dragged to the temple no matter how much you struggled and kicked and pleaded until you were finally locked in the dimly lit temple, only the many candles present to lighten the main chamber and to show the powerful, majestic sculpture of the god, Ghost.

Imagine crying yourself to sleep, everything hurt, you were scared and confused, all alone to die in this forsaken temple because some old men decided on it. Falling asleep out of exhaustion, the images of your crying, terrified mother haunting you even when sleeping.

Imagine waking up and instead of feeling cold and sore from sleeping on the unforgiving stone floor, and instead finding yourself laying on and under the most luxurious furs you've ever seen, the warmth of them felt like a blanket and the smell of them, pleasant warm masculine musk made a shiver run down your spine, just where were you?

Before you had the chance of looking around the room, you felt huge, strong arms clamping togehter around you and bringing you into a powerful, broad chest which rumbled with a growl like purr and a stern voice saying:

"Stay. Don't move around girl."

And the very same arms turned you gently around to face the man behind you and you couldn't help but gasp and breath out a tiny, frightened yelp-behind you was laying a man who looked like the stone sculpture of Ghost cane to life and became human. It...it was Ghost. You laid next to a god.

[r0ugesun]

just thinking about grumpy!aemond x sunshine niece!reader, that's all

Intimidating uncle who only smiles for his sweet niece?? How can I refuse? :> I hope u like it anon

Synopsis: Aemond’s icy demeanor softens as his playful niece, Y/n, brings joy and warmth into his life through her persistence and tender moments.

Aemond x Niece!Reader

The vast expanse of the Red Keep stretched before them, a labyrinthine structure of ancient stone and intricate tapestries of the Targaryens rich history. Within its cold, echoing halls, moved with his customary stoic grace, his singular eye perpetually narrowed, his demeanor perpetually grave. It was a disposition well-suited to his character, a shield against the tumultuous world he inhabited. Yet, like a glimmer of sunlight piercing through storm clouds, his niece, y/n, was a stark contrast to his brooding presence.

Y/n’s laughter echoed through the halls as she flitted about, a vision of radiance and mirth. Her wit was as sharp as Valyrian steel, and her spirit as unyielding as dragonfire. She was a beacon of joy in a court often shrouded in intrigue and gloom, and though many found solace in her presence, Aemond was not among them. Or so he would have others believe.

The gardens of the Red Keep were a sanctuary for y/n, a place where she could escape the stifling formality of court life. She found Aemond there one afternoon, standing by a marble fountain, his expression as inscrutable as ever. With a mischievous smile, she approached him.

“My dear uncle, why do you always seem to be plotting the downfall of the Seven Kingdoms?” she quipped, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Aemond’s eye flicked towards her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I find little cause for humor, niece. Unlike you, I am not so easily distracted by frivolity.”

“Frivolity?” she repeated, her tone playful. “Surely, you do not think the pursuit of happiness to be frivolous, Uncle. It is the very essence of life!”

He huffed, turning his gaze back to the fountain. “Happiness is a fleeting illusion, y/n. It is duty and strength that endure.”

“Ah, but what is duty without joy? What is strength without laughter? A kingdom built on sorrow and scowling faces is a kingdom doomed to fall” she countered, her voice gentle yet firm.

Aemond’s expression softened ever so slightly, a fleeting hint of amusement in his eye. “You are relentless, aren’t you?”

“Relentless? Perhaps. Or simply persistent in my never ending quest to make you smile” she replied with a toothy grin. “I believe there is a smile hidden somewhere beneath that scowl.”

Aemond arched an eyebrow. “You overestimate your abilities, niece.”

“And you underestimate mine, uncle” she shot back, her tone light but her words carrying a subtle challenge.

Days turned into weeks, and y/n’s persistence in engaging Aemond in conversation did not wane. She would find him in the library, poring over ancient tomes, and offer her commentary on the latest court gossip. She would join him during his solitary walks along the battlements, teasing him about the weight of his thoughts.

One evening, as they dined with the royal family, y/n’s quick wit came to the fore once more. The courtiers were discussing a recent skirmish at the border, the atmosphere laden with a slight tension. Aemond’s expression was particularly dour, his mind clearly occupied with strategic considerations.

“Uncle Aemond” y/n began, her tone deceptively innocent, “do you believe the enemy quakes in fear of your legendary glare? Perhaps we should send a portrait of you to the battlefield. It might end the war without any bloodshed.

A ripple of laughter spread around the table, even King Viserys chuckling at her jest. Aemond’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile breaking through his stern facade.

“You have a dangerous tongue, y/n” he said quietly, though there was no malice in his voice.

“Only when it is necessary to cut through the gloom” she replied with a wink.

Despite himself, Aemond found his defenses weakening. There was something irresistible about y/n’s unwavering cheerfulness, her ability to find light in the darkest corners. She was not deterred by his gruffness, nor intimidated by his icy demeanor. Instead, she met him with a courage and joy that was both infuriating and captivating.

One evening, as the sun set over the Blackwater Bay, they found themselves alone on the roof. Y/n leaned against the balcony, her eyes reflecting the golden hues of the sunset.

“Do you ever tire of being so serious, Uncle?” she asked softly.

Aemond sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It is not a matter of choice, y/n. The burdens I bear are heavy, the responsibilities immense.”

“And yet, you bear them with such strength. But even the strongest warriors need respite” she said, turning to face him. “Allow yourself a moment of peace, Aemond. If not for your sake, then for mine.”

He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and saw the sincerity in her eyes. The walls he had built around his heart began to crack, ever so slightly. Perhaps there was wisdom in her words, a truth he had long ignored.

“Very well,” he conceded, a faint smile gracing his lips. “For your sake, I shall try.”

Y/n beamed, her joy infectious. “That is all I ask, dear Uncle.”

In that moment, he found a glimmer of happiness he had thought lost forever. As he leaned closer to her, their breaths mingling, he felt an unfamiliar but welcome warmth.

With a gentle tilt of his head, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. The world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them.

They drew back slightly, their foreheads touching, and Aemond could not suppress a soft chuckle.

“It appears you’ve managed to disarm me with a kiss” he said, his tone lighthearted.

Y/n’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she responded, “I had hoped that a kiss would be more effective than a sword. It seems I’ve found a more persuasive weapon.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow with a playful grin. “Am I to expect a steady stream of kisses to temper my seriousness?”

“Only if it ensures that you’re less somber” her smile teasing. “But fret not, I shall reserve my attacks for the most opportune moments.”

“Special occasions, then?” he inquired with mock seriousness. “I shall need to prepare for such events.”

Y/n’s laughter was light and musical. “Indeed, but for now, simply relish this one. It appears to be quite effective.”

Aemond shook his head, still smiling. “Your talent for lightening my mood is alarming. I may have to enlist you as my personal jester.”

“And here I thought I was merely your charming niece” she retorted in faux indignation, giving him a gentle nudge.

“Charming niece and occasional troublemaker” he corrected, “but I find I am quite content with both.”

Their shared laughter filled the space between them, making the day’s burdens seem lighter.

[vividxpages]

✩˚౨ৎ˚✩‧The Great War PART 1 ✩₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧

PART 2 + PART 3

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 1700

summary: Jace and you are lovers, but stand on opposite sides of the war, not allowed to see each other anymore. But love always finds a way. (inspired by “The Great War” by Taylor Swift)

warnings: angst, reader is Alicents's daughter, the Greens being a bad family, hurt/comfort!, kissing

a/n: help, I'm obsessed with this boy and every song starts to sound like a possible fic idea for him!!!

𓆩♡𓆪

All that bloodshed, crimson clover Uh-huh, sweet dream was over My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War

Sometimes, you could only breathe above the clouds.

Up here on your dragon’s back, the trouble you left behind underneath you did not matter anymore. You thought of the castle that slowly poisoned you from the inside, the dark nights where you thought you were completely alone in the world with no comfort in reach but the memories you carried with yourself.

Once there had been laughter at the dinner table, the halls filled with the family you had not seen in months. Now, you only saw your brothers and your mother together in one room during council. You shuddered at the memory of today’s meeting, snuggling deeper into the saddle and closer to the dragon who kept you safe in the sky.

(“Maybe we should send our dear sister.” Your brother Aegon had proposed at some frustrating point of an endless council, taking a deep swig from the wine glass in front of him.

You had simply stared at him, silent. No one was really listening to you anyway and you were past the point of turning to your mother pleadingly. She was just as silent, always frowning, always doing nothing. “What do you mean, Aegon?”

“We can weaken them from the inside.” He had spoken to the others then, who at least looked so confused as you had felt. “Send them my little precious sister who a certain bastard son always had a weak spot for. I don’t see the problem if you kill him while you’re fuck-“

Your chair had screeched over the floor and fell down with a loud thud on the stone floor. You had clenched your hands into fists as you stood, fury in your eyes.

“Aegon, stop with such nonsense.” Alicent had said quietly, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. You fled.)

You welcomed the tears on your cheeks like an old friend, letting them cool your skin as you stirred your dragon through the sky, opting to just turn right and never come back to Westeros.

But oh, how your heart still clung to them.

The family up north in the realm, the family you had lost forever in the middle of his conflict.

Suddenly, you felt your dragon tense and directed your attention to the west, where a shape of a big shadow flickered through the clouds. Your mind began to race with what you’d do if Aemond had followed you, always being damned to bring you back when you had strayed too far away from Kings Landing.

But this shadow was not big enough to be Vhagar.

And those dark curls did not belong to your brother.

You gasped as your dragon let out a recognizing screech, lunging forwards through the clouds until you and the other rider could almost touch at how close your beasts were.

Time seemed to slow down as they flew past each other, teasingly snapping at each other’s necks with the joy of being reunited, but there was no doubt. As you raced through the skies, you looked into your Jace’s eyes.

You let out a broken gasp and quickly looked over your shoulder, but he and Vermax were already out of reach, descending down beneath the clouds. And suddenly, you knew where he was going. You spurned your dragon on, the wind cutting into your skin as you raced after them, faster and faster until you let your dragon spread its wings for a quick landing by the beach Jacaerys had chosen.

Only the silver moonlight illuminated the shore by the cliffs, void of any other soul who could witness the forbidden reunion between the two of you. If you had been in company, Jacaerys would’ve already been dead or held captive.

But you were alone, for the first time in months.

You slid down your dragon’s back, nearly blind by the need to reach him, to throw yourself into his arms like you had dreamed so often.

When you had seen each other for the last time, there had not been a war yet.

And Luke had been still alive.

(You had cried for hours when Aemond had returned, blood still drying on Vhagar’s massive teeth. You had begged your mother to write a letter, just a simple letter to Jace, but everything at court had still been too fragile to do anything but be in shock over what had happened up there. It had nearly driven you mad, to know that somewhere Jace was suffering the loss of his little brother and there was nothing you could do to comfort him.)

Now, he was right there in front of you, leaving Vermax behind him and running towards you on the wet sand by the water. You broke out into a sprint as well, a disbelieving laugh that was anything but amused leaving your tight throat as his features became more and more clear to you.

You crashed together like two waves.

The embrace was nearly violent as his arms slung themselves around you, lifting you up and pressing you into him. There was no strength in your bones anymore and if Jace wouldn’t have held you so tightly, you would’ve crashed onto the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

Only Jace was holding you together right now.

He was everything you had been missing in those terrible weeks. He smelled like sea and wind and smoke and your hands shook as you combed through his wet curls, your tear-streaked face securely hidden in his neck.

You never wanted to let go of him and it seemed like the feeling was mutual.

“Gods- my love…” He mumbled into your ear and you let out a choked sob as you held each other. It was like he could not decide where he wanted to touch you first. His hands drifted over you restlessly, up and down your spine, holding onto you as if you could disappear again at any moment.

“How did you find me?” You asked breathlessly, your bottom lip still trembling dangerously as you caressed his cheeks, needing to refamiliarize yourself with the feel of his skin on yours.

He swallowed thickly, unshed tears glistening in his beautiful years. “I remembered the route you liked to take when you needed to stop thinking. And it’s cloudy today. No one saw me coming. I’ve been waiting for a cloudy night like this for weeks-“

His voice broke and you pulled him closer again, shudders of pain and longing and relief to be with him going through you in an endless loop. How much had changed since the last time you had seen eye to eye: Your father had always said you’d make a good match back then and now Jace had one brother less and you were a captive in your own home.

“I missed you so much.” You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder as you both looked out on the ocean. “I- oh Jace, I tried to write, I wanted to send you a letter, but- I wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t help you and-“

“It’s okay.” He said, but it sounded lifeless, void. “It’s not your fault. I wished I could’ve been there for you too. I know how much you loved Luke.”

Gods, you wanted to cry and never stop again. Even now, Jace was trying to be strong for you, as he had always been.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.” He told you and cupped your cheek, looking deeply and longingly into your eyes. “I missed you every second we’ve been apart. Have you been treated well? Have Aegon and Aemond-“

“I love you too. I want to come with you.” You interrupted him fiery and he shuddered at the insane idea of it, the consequences unimaginable and likely deadly for one of you. “Please, please, let me come with you, I can’t stay a single day there, my mother is not the same anymore and- my brothers have been horrible with the things they want to do to Rhaenyra and you.”

He shushed you gently, drawing his arms tighter around you and swaying you back and forth. “I’ll find a way. I’m not letting you stay there alone for much longer, my love. It makes me sick to think about you being alone in Kings Landing, believe me, but…mother says it’s not safe, not yet-“

“I won’t cause your family any trouble, I promise-“

“It’s not us we’re fearing for.” He smiled sadly at you. “It’s you. I won’t summon your brother’s anger on you. I’d rather take it on myself, but- we need to be a little more patient, okay?”

You could see how much effort those words cost him and you had no doubt if it was his choice to make, he’d take you with him to Dragonstone and never look back. You watched his throat bump with tension, his jaw set, his lips pressed together tightly.

A sudden small smile danced over your face. “So you only came to me tonight because you wanted to see me?”

His eyes were dark with longing, with wanton he could not give in to, not tonight. “My love...I needed to see you.” His thumb lovingly brushed over your cheek, the pad of it briefly touching your lips.

There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you needed to tell him and hear from him, but in this short moment you were only a girl and he was a boy. Your boy.

 He met you right in the middle, delicately holding your face between his hands as your lips met, desperately kissing you as his taste exploded in your mouth once again. He kissed you drunk, enveloping all your senses until all you felt was him. His lips were dry and salty from the long flight over the clouds and along the coast, your runny noses sliding against each other, but it was perfect.

Your heart was mended with every little sigh into your mouth, his long lashes brushing over your cheeks, your hands tangling in his hair…

You thought that maybe, in another lifetime, the two of you could’ve been able to stop the war.

Another part of you knew that you always had been damned, cursed.

You blinked into the starless grey sky above you as Jace began to ravish your neck with wet kisses and you thought of the old saying passed on from generation to generation.

Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin.

On which side would yours land if you ever lost him?

On which would his land when it finally sank in that he could never have you?

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ How they dream of you at night

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia

(tw: just slightly sad)

✧ “In the hidden corners where the gods' gaze does not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming” - and one said person, Pierro, can be found within the grand Palace of Snezhnaya. He solemnly sits by the window, his icy blue eyes gazing off into the dark winter night of this snowy land.

He often does that, when the night becomes silent and the world is still. Pierro wishes he could dream, yet 500 years of cursed immortality can corrode one’s mind into feeble numbness. Thus, the Fatui Director substitutes his dreamless nights with daydreams of you. Silent fantasies of your voice, images of cupping your jawline, a tender caress to your form. The jester’s daydreams are the only thing keeping him sane, preserving the memory of your skin and love alive in his mind. 

And even if his nights are bleak and dreamless, he would rather settle for maladaptive daydreams. When the Jester gazes at the fake stars of Teyvat, hanging by the firmament as a lifeline, so does he yearn to daydream of you - living in the day just for the memory of your embrace. Alas, only the harsh nights of Snezhnaya are witness to his wistful gazes. 

✧ For Il Capitano, the world is full of battles and wars; conflicts initiated by the ignorant ones, those who care naught for the innocent. Therefore, the only moment of solace that the Captain can afford is in his dreams. Dreams in which his vision is not haunted by the bloodshed of battlefields, but instead by simple dreams of you. 

In those dreams, the world is plain and quiet. He often sees you in it, occupying his thoughts. Sometimes you’d talk and ramble nonchalantly, occasionally he’d see you collecting small chamomile flowers by the grass. Those dreams are uneventful, yet for the Captain, such peacefulness is a luxury he cannot afford. An image of you and him by a quiet valley, a gentle breeze idling by, and having all the time to relish each other’s endless conversations. No thoughts of warfare, only the unwinding sound of your voice.

The Captain is not ashamed to admit he dreamt of you. In fact, he’d candidly say it during the most random of times - “I saw you in my dreams again.”

You’d glance at him and muse - “Oooh, really? Maybe you just miss my company!”

The Harbinger's mask remains pitch black, devout of any expression that might tell whether he reciprocates your little teasing. But besides the occasional clank of chains from his helmet, a low chuckle will escape him. Therefore, The Captain would lean to sit closer to you, his body less tense whenever he is in your presence. Even your silence is a remedy to his soul.

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps I really do.” 

✧ Il Dottore hates dreaming. Sleep, in its entirety, is a redundant form of rest that the human body requires. An utter waste of time. Thus, as a scientist who modified his own body to perfection, it’s unsurprising that he can go on for days without sleep. The Doctor can be efficient with his time, although that’s not why he semi-biologically modified his body. It’s because he hates dreaming of you. 

You are always there in his dreams, along with his younger self. The nostalgic warm sunlight of Sumeru basks onto you, and in those dreams, he sees you in the familiar hallways of the Akademiya. Dottore does not consider those dreams pleasant, since they make him uneasy of the grave past. He doesn’t like seeing himself so simple and young, in his Akademiya uniform. He doesn’t enjoy seeing your tender smile as you clutch your books closer to your chest and lock your gaze with him. He doesn’t like how his dream self always yearns to come closer and embrace you tight. As if young Zandik could’ve held you one more time, and all his troubles would dissipate by the warm sun.

Yet no matter the place or outcome of the peaceful dream, every time that young Zandik tries to reach for your face or seek your lips, you’re always an arm-length away. The hallways of the Akademiya loom threateningly, pulling you further away from him, your warmth becoming unreachable. How naive. He should be better than this. Now he sits up in bed, awake and hands clenched around his hair with trepidation. He hates how his body wants to cry for the memory of you in his dreams. He really hates dreaming.

✧ The fact that Scaramouche even possesses the faculties to dream is what made him the individual he is today. Whether he curses his ability to do so or not, it doesn’t matter. He is no longer the naive Kabukimono he once was, in fact, he doesn’t even require to mimic sleep as humans do. But only you know the truth. During still nights, when the two of you doze off under the warm futons, the Balladeer’s hand would unconsciously grip yours, then followed by silent sobs.   

In his dreams, he sees many events unfold. Sometimes, he sees himself left to live in the squalor like a common critter, discarded and abandoned. Sometimes, he sees the familiar Tataratsuna huts. But more often, he sees you there in his dreams. Back in the warm plains of Yashiori Island, you let him rest his head on your lap. You are dressed in a snug kimono that the fabric's comfort etches onto Scaramouche’s memories eternally. In his dreams, he rests idly in your embrace, by your lap, while you caress his hair. 

Those dreams are delightful at first as if his memories as Kabukimono reinvoke themselves and immortalize the softness of your body and the soothing motion of your hands in his subconscious. But quickly, those dreams shift into agonies. Sometimes, in those dreams, you turn and desert him, while he is left on his dirtied knees to plead for your return. Sometimes, those nightmares show him that it is your heart that can ebb the Tatarigami within Mikage Furnace. And just before he's forced to rip your beating core and relive another memory, he awakes.

“Scara?! Scara…?” - you whispered in the dimness of the night, shaking him awake. “You were crying in your sleep. Another nightmare?”

The Puppeteer said nothing. He lay awake, startled as tears involuntarily streamed down his cheeks. With twitching eyes, he quickly clings around your waist, burying his face against you to conceal his tears. No words needed to be exchanged as his body shook, while you hushed and hugged him. This was the reason why Scaramouche avoided dozing off into sleep ever again.

Regardless of the content of his nightmares, he’d never admit you caressed his hair and soothed him the same way you did in his dreams. 

✧ Pantalone is in bed, restless. Turning from side to side, or readjusting his pillows becomes a futile endeavor to find solace when his bed is lacking you. You are out there, on an expedition, busy exploring Teyvat. Your trip might take another few days, yet Pantalone is alone in a bed that often nestled you close together. Where do your feet take you, the Harbinger ponders to himself. Hence, while you are away, the Regrator is forced to make amends with the bedroom that feels considerably empty, considerably cold, considerably foreign - all because it's missing you. 

In the late, voiceless hours of the night, his dreams blend with his yearning for you. He misses pressing your entire form against his lean body, as it often allows him to fall asleep easily. With you in his arms, chest pressed to another, he knows - you are safe. You are with him. Unfortunately, you are away, and the night feels unwelcoming. For now, Pantalone has to clutch a pillow in his sleep to substitute his feeling of holding you. Even as he sleeps with worry, he hopes somewhere out there, in a foreign land, you are dreaming of him the same way he’s dreaming of you. 

✧ When Tartaglia drifts off into dreamland, his mind is still half-busy with thoughts of you. So much so that his plans blend into his dreams. Thoughts about what he should buy you while he’s away on a mission. Ideas on where to purchase your favorite local specialties. Or perhaps how he should surprise you when he comes back home.

His brain is so enthusiastically occupied with plans to bring you souvenirs, that his dreams come up with countless scenarios of how you’d greet him upon arrival. He’d envision your joyous surprise, endearing pouts, or teasing smiles. And sometimes, if his dreams are more daring, Childe might accidentally dream of some sweet rewards that will leave him waking up in a cold sweat, panting, and body craving. 

Either way, he is rushing back to you the moment his mission is over. His dreams of you might leave him hot and bothered, but your love in real life is much more tantalizing than anything his desperate dreams could conjure up. 

[ceoofglytchell]

Daughter Of The Sea

Summary: Crushed by the burdens weighing on his shoulders, Aegon takes you, his wife, on a flight on Sunfire to a special place, where he can forget the raging war and the burdens of the crown for at least a short time and at the same time start an attempt to get closer to you.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Tully!Wife!Reader 

Word count: 4108 words

Warnings: fluff, obvious pining, brief angst (communication is hard), mentions of past smut, Aegon having dirty thoughts about you, very brief hint of a breeding kink, brief making out, no mention of Y/N 

Notes: I am a little stressed at the moment so this will be the only fic coming from me this week, but I will most certainly be back with another one on Saturday 💛. As always, feedback and criticism is always appreciated and please remember that english is not my native language.

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"No, no, fat old Lord Tully can either raise my banners or see his burn," Aegon said firmly, scanning the members of his Small Council. It was only early in the morning and he was already having to hold one of those miserable council meetings that just always tired him out. He would rather drink wine in his chambers or go out into the city to the Street of Silk, but he was no longer allowed to do that either. He was the King, after all.

"Lord Tully has another proposal, Your Grace. One that doesn't involve any bloodshed or fighting. A marriage alliance. His daughter is not yet married, but she will be soon if the pretender realizes that too. In this way, with this alliance, we could unite a large part of the Riverlands under our banner and expand our army with their men."

A small murmur went around the table and he could immediately see his mother looking at Criston with her dark brown eyes and they shared a long, knowing look. It was decided without him even having the chance to say anything about it and give his own opinion.

Once again, a decision was made over his head and he was forced to do something he did not want - just like the crown on his head, which was never meant for him.

He was going to get married and he didn't even know you.

You were different than he had expected.

A little more than a month had passed since the wedding, which had been held in small circles in front of a High Septon and your families in the great Sept in King's Landing. You were a pretty little thing. A little younger than him, loving and innocent. You had actually blushed when he had pressed a small, fleeting kiss on your lips to seal the marriage, which had then given him the motivation not to get drunk to the point of insensibility during the banquet so that he would not have to endure your company.

Instead, the opposite had been the case, for he had quickly grown to enjoy talking to you, hearing your soft voice and seeing the warm expression in your eyes. You were a little shy and you did not have much in common, but as the evening progressed, as the moment drew closer and closer when you would have to retire to your marital chambers to consummate the marriage, Aegon had noticed how you were picking at your cuticles and how you kept raising your hand to your face to bite your nails out of nervousness.

It was a habit he himself had, so he knew exactly how you must be feeling.

At that very moment, the king had felt something for you for the first time. He had realized that not only had he been forced into this sudden marriage, but that you had also suffered from this decision, and that you knew him as little as he knew you. Here, you were both the victims.

Aegon had been gentle when he had you lying beneath him in his bed and taking your innocence. He had tried as best he could to make it as comfortable as possible for you, but your little whimpers and the big tears that had rolled down your cheeks as he did his duty broke his heart and he had vowed to be good for you. You were now his wife, his queen, and soon probably the mother of his child, if his seed had taken root in your womb that one time, which is why he wanted to be a better man for you.

He had to get to know you first and maybe at some point your heart would open up to him and you could love each other as if this had not just been a political alliance but a marriage of love from the start.

"Nothing."

This very word clouded his every thought as he wandered through the cold, bare corridors of the Red Keep in search of something. He was the king, but at the same time he was completely powerless, at least when it came to his own life, because as long as he can remember everyone has always decided for him or over him and that was no different now. The only person who had decided absolutely nothing for him or forced him to do anything so far was you.

That was probably why he had instinctively walked to your chambers without even looking where his feet were taking him, and now found himself in front of the closed doors.

He could hear a faint noise from inside and as he took a step closer to the wooden doors he realized that you were humming. He did not recognize the melody nor could he hear you clearly, but for some reason your soft voice alone was soothing him immensely, as if you were a distant light in a world that consisted only of darkness. He only had to approach you and reach for your light.

He carefully opened the door and stepped into your chambers, which he had only briefly visited once before, when you had just furnished them after you had come to King's Landing. Back then, the interior had been sparse, but now every inch reminded him of you. It was comfortably furnished with plenty of seating, cushions and plants. The tapestries that hung on the walls were not about any sexual practices, unlike his, but yours were embroidered with small fish, aquatic plants and it was all in the colors of your house - red and blue - to give you a feeling of home so that you could properly settle in. On the shelves were piles of books, more embroidery and small pictures that you had painted on parchment.

You sat on an armchair in the corner of the room, rocking back and forth slightly as you gently stroked the cat that had curled up on your lap and you hummed a calm tune to it. He didn't remember the name of the small, orange kitten, but he knew it was a parting gift from your younger brother Oscar, so you wouldn't feel lonely in your new surroundings.

Aegon didn't want you to be lonely - or unhappy. Quite the opposite, he wanted to see you happy and above all he wanted you to be happy with him, as you would probably be together for the rest of your lives unless - gods forbid - a tragedy happened and you were taken away from him, which he would never allow. You were his wife and he would be damned if he couldn't protect you. If he wanted to be strong for anyone, it would be for you.

Approaching footsteps made you look up from your little friend in your lap and you froze when you saw your Lord Husband standing in your doorway and your eyes widened as he was the last person you expected to come visit you. Your marriage had been quite cold up until now, except for the consummation on your wedding night, but that was it. After that, you hadn't even kissed or touched each other in any way, except for the occasional kiss on the cheek before supper.

However, you would be lying if you said you didn't long to be close to him. You did not want to live a life without love, but to get it you also did not want to break the promise you had to make to him at the altar.

"Husband? What are you doing here?"

He wanted to approach you, but something inside him wouldn't let him move and he remained rooted to the spot at the door, which he at least closed behind him so that you could talk to each other alone.

What was he doing here? That was a good question. One that he himself didn't have an answer to. He wanted to get closer to you, but he didn't want to force his company on you either. However, he knew of a way that would allow him to be close to you, to show you a different side of him, while you would probably enjoy it too. He might even see you smile, but not the kind, respectful smile you always had on your lips, no, a real, loving one that was only meant for his eyes. He had not heard your laughter yet either.

"I wanted to see you." You blinked in confusion and scratched the cat a little more behind the ear, as if it would take away your nervousness itself, which wasn't the case, as your heart was beating so fast you were afraid it would burst out of your chest. He wanted to see you? Why? He had never voluntarily come to you to spend time with you, but you suspected there was a first time for everything.

"Why?" A rather unpleasant thought entered your head and for a moment you feared that he had only come to do his duty and then leave again, like the first time. You longed to be close to him, but you still wanted to get to know him a little better and learn to love him before you let him into your bed again. Hopefully he saw it the same way. "Have you come here to do our duty?"

The king immediately shook his head so that his short, white curls fell into his face, but that didn't really bother him. What bothered him, however, was that you thought he had only come here for that reason, but at the same time he could understand why. In your eyes there could be no other reason why he should come, since after a month of marriage you still barely knew each other.

"No, I... I wanted to ask you if you already have plans for today?"

The cat jumped off your lap and disappeared into your bedchamber next door, leaving you all alone with him, and you immediately felt a little more tense again. You wanted his attention, but it happened so suddenly that you were at a loss for words for a moment.

“No, not really. Do you have anything special in mind, husband?”

“I wanted to ask if you would like to ride with me? Just the two of us?”

You didn't know if it was his hopeful look or your longing and desire for freedom that made you accept his offer, but you did. The only thing you hadn't seen coming was that he wasn't leading you to the royal stables, but to a carriage that would take you to the dragon pit.

"I do not think I am made for the skies, Aegon," you said carefully as you heard Sunfire's gentle chants and the golden dragon slowly moved out of the darkness of the pit into the light to greet its rider. His mount was nothing short of beautiful. The dragon shone in a variety of colors when the light shone on it, and the dull pink of its wings reminded you of the many flowers that often grew on the shores of the small lakes in the Riverlands. Despite everything, the thought of flying on the back of such a winged beast filled you with fear and awe.

"No, small fish like you belong in the sea and that is why I am taking you there." For a moment you just stared at him, unable to believe that the first time he voluntarily spent time with you, he was granting two of your dearest wishes - to get closer to your husband and to see the sea again. Of course, there was a good view from the highest towers of the Red Keep, but just seeing it was not the same as feeling it, and you didn't want to disturb the fishermen at the harbor at their work just because you felt the need to stroll barefoot across a sandy beach.

The young king held out a gloved hand to you and tried to smile invitingly at you while he gently stroked the shiny scales of his mount with the other. He hadn't been out riding for a while and was already looking forward to flying through the air with you and seeing how you would feel about being able to see the world from above. On Sunfire's back he had always felt completely free, free from the annoying duties, free from the weight of the crown, free from the burdens of his name, free from everything, and you might feel the same. At least he hoped so.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves before you walked closer to the beast, which seemed to be watching you curiously from the side.

Aegon helped you climb onto the saddle and then sat behind you to assure you that you would not fall off during the flight and that he would be a widower a month after the wedding. The warmth of your body so close to his, the sweet scent of your hair and the way your body clung to him drove him to the brink of madness in the first second, which was why he quickly gave Sunfire the command to take to the skies so that he would no longer have to think about you while you were so close to each other.

A small cry left your lips as the dragon, along with you and Aegon, rose into the sky above King's Landing and you saw the city from above for the first time. Instinctively, you pressed yourself closer to your husband's chest and grabbed his arm, which was wrapped securely around your waist, your fingers pressing so tightly into the fabric of his tunic that it was a wonder he hadn't objected to the touch.

Sunfire rose higher and higher until it almost reached the clouds, and Aegon couldn't help but grin like a fool when he felt you reaching for him in search of protection and safety, holding on so tightly as if you were afraid you might slip off the saddle and fall into the depths at any second.

As if he would ever let that happen.

"Are we nearly there?" you called over the wind that whipped against your ears and messed up your hair, while your narrowed gaze was fixed in fascination on the landscape below you.

"Soon! Be patient a little longer, wife." Aegon answered close to your ear, sending goosebumps down your arms as his voice made you realize just how close you had been and how much trust you had just put in him. You didn't even know where he was taking you except that it would have something to do with the sea.

After not too long of flying, you saw the outlines of a small group of islands appear in the distance, although they seemed to be uninhabited. The dragon suddenly began to fly a little lower and when your husband gave no other orders to contradict this, you realized that this must be the place he wanted to take you to in order to spend time with you - an island in the middle of the sea.

The island you landed on was small and had nothing more than a few rocks, some grass and a few plants and a small beach where the waves gently crashed. The sun was high in the sky and the sea was completely calm, which was a huge relief for Aegon, as he knew from experience that in the event of a storm, most of the small island would be swallowed up by the waves.

You landed on the ground again with wobbly legs and you could immediately smell the salt in the air and feel the sun burning on your skin. A smile formed on your lips as you stared into the horizon and saw the endless blue stretching out before you, which for some reason warmed your heart and made you feel more free again.

Riverrun, your home where you grew up, was not directly at the sea, but the castle had been surrounded by river water on all sides and you loved to ride to the coast with your younger brother to spend the day there, which made you miss the sea and nature even more. When you and Aegon had children together, you swore that they would not only have a dragon egg laid in the crib, as you knew was the Targaryen tradition, but you would also show them places like these and maybe even your childhood home at some point.

As Aegon dismounted behind you and Sunfire rose back into the air to circle over the island or just fly around a bit, and he saw your broad smile, he could feel a lump forming in his throat. He had always thought you were beautiful, but only now did he realize that you were much more than that. You had a beauty that he had never known before, and he was a fool for staying away from you for so long.

"Have you known this place for a long time?" You asked him, turning back to him to look into his eyes, which appeared a light purple tone in the blazing sun that reminded you of lavender.

"I come here occasionally. It is quite relaxing and simply... beautiful."

"Peaceful. It is peaceful," you responded then, whereupon Sunfire made a noise that reminded you of your cat. It sounded almost like an agreement - if a dragon could understand humans at all. He seemed to understand his rider well enough, even if he barely spoke High Valyrian.

"Yes, that too," Aegon gently patted Sunfire on the flank, causing the dragon to straighten up, flap its wings and take to the skies again, flying circles over the island group as they stood on the small beach and looked at each other.

"What do you do when you are here?" You asked him, lightly playing with your wedding ring on your ring finger, as it was a better distraction than biting your nails.

"Laying around and doing nothing, mostly," he felt a little bad telling you that, as it did not sound particularly like kingly behavior, but it was the truth and he did not want to deny you that. After all, he was doing this entire trip with you to get to know you better.

You nodded your head, an idea coming to you as you heard the sound of the waves slowly hitting the sandy beach and you could smell the salt that was hitting your skin. However, you didn't just want to smell it, you wanted to feel it too. "I will go swimming, I think."

Aegon blinked, as this was certainly not what he had expected you to do. He had expected you to lie down and talk, but not that he would suddenly see you starting to undo the laces of your dress and reveal your thin white shift and parts of your supple skin that he would love to caress and kiss if you let him one day.

"Be careful, please," the king asked gently, as he was not about to come with you and sink into the salty sea water and feel as free as a fish himself, but hopefully you would. He wished that you would feel as free and carefree as you did before marrying him.

"I will be," your blue dress fell onto the ground, while you walked into the waves in your white undergarment until you were surrounded by water up to your shoulders, while he sat down on the ground and quietly watched you from afar.

You reminded him of the old tales about nymphs who were said to have seduced men at lakes with their beauty and then dragged them into the depths never to be seen again, but he also knew that you were different. You were definitely tempting him right now- not that you knew-  but you would also never harm him. A small part of him wanted to join you, to see if he had managed to make you feel happiness again, but his courage failed him and instead he merely kept on watching you.

You swam through the cool water for some time, and each and every minute you could feel his eyes following your every move, while your husband's dragon flew around in the sky above you the whole time. Two dragons were watching you, and you had hoped one would join you, but he did not. Of course not.

Aegon had lost himself in daydreams the longer he watched you swim. He dreamed of a life where he had met you under different circumstances and he had married you because he wanted to and not because he was forced to. It would have been love, not obligation.

Lost in these sudden daydreams, he did not notice you rising from the waves again, the now soaked shift you were wearing being practically see-through now, the thin fabric clinging to your curves like a second skin.

When his gaze focused again and he saw you like this, his amethyst colored eyes widened immediately and you stole his breath away by not even doing anything. You were heavenly.

You dropped into the sand next to him and lay down, your eyes fixed on the blue sky and your hair spread out beneath your head like a halo. He couldn't take his eyes off you anymore and he couldn't help but let his eyes wander over every inch of your body. Under the thin material of your shift he could see your hardened nipples and little pearly drops of water running down inside your cleavage, making him look at your breasts for a moment longer than necessary, which caused a lump to form in his throat and to feel something stir deep inside him.

Gods, now he would have to control himself.

"You could have joined me," you said suddenly out of nowhere and turned your head so that you could look at your husband's handsome face, which was catching the rays of sunlight in such a way that you thought he was glowing.

"I did not want to force my company on you."

You quickly rolled onto your side, giving him an even better glimpse of your cleavage and he had to actively bite the inside of his cheek to avoid making any noise that would ruin the beauty of this moment and that would force him to explain himself.

"Aegon, I enjoy your company. I just wish you would give me more of it. You are my husband and I barely know you."

The disappointment in your voice broke his heart, but at the same time he cursed himself for not being able to think of anything other than ripping off the last piece of clothing that covered your body and repeat your wedding night, but this time properly and not just giving yourself to him because it was your duty as his queen to give him heirs. But he restrained himself.

"My little wife enjoys having me around, huh?"

"Come on, you are not that bad. I am sure you are more bearable than Aemond." You giggled and the sound made his heart beat faster and a warmth spread through him that he had not felt before with a woman yet.

"You would not have survived marriage to him, little fish. He is too... fierce."

"Do you not know what they say? Tough on the outside, soft on the inside. Perhaps I could have softened him."

Aegon laughed and shook his head firmly, as he was a thousand percent sure that even your kind nature and sweet disposition could not have changed his little brother's stoic demeanor, even if you both shared a common love of books. "No, my love. Even you could not have done that."

"And what of you? Do you think I am able to warm your heart?"

The king did not have to think about his answer for a second and he replied to you without thinking of any possible consequences: "You already have."

You didn't know if he had closed the gap or if it was you, but suddenly your lips were on his and you lost yourself in the way he held you tightly and deepened the kiss with a sense of urgency you had longed for.

Maybe you would not have to wait forever for love to blossom.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

[ozzgin]

What does Daos, the Romanian werewolf boy look like? What is his personality like? What was his childhood like and what made him want to be a warrior? Did his parents do some witchcraft or offerings to the gods to have a son so big and unnaturally strong? Why was he betrayed by his own people? May we get a story of how was like in battle before he became a werewolf? Love your OC!

Yandere!Werewolf Headcanons

I’m so glad the wolf boy is liked! I genuinely didn’t expect much when I wrote the story, but he’s definitely grown on me as I researched and expanded his lore. Here’s a little doodle of how I imagined him, plus a little background. I couldn’t think of any particular war story, but I came up with a funny reasoning for it instead.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, character info

Background. Daos came from a family of tarabostes, or cavalry nobles. While Dacian society was divided into priests, nobles and peasants, all of them were trained for battle. "A hand above the weapon, and another holding the plough" is how they were described. Much of their culture revolved around war. Thus, even as a child, Daos spent most of his time sparring. He'd always had a sturdy build: he was taller that most of his peers, could work for hours without breaks, and his wounds were quick to heal. He was sent to serve in the army before he even reached his teenage years.

Was there witchcraft involved? Not at all. Everyone seemed to agree, however, that such strength and tenacity were not a mere coincidence. Clearly this boy had been sent by Zalmoxis himself, perhaps as a reward for their relentless pursue for victory. Daos carried the flag of the wolf-headed dragon through countless battles.

Why was he the one to be sacrificed? Well, because he was the chosen one, naturally. What better messenger for the Heavens than the godsent gift itself? Daos absolutely despised his reputation as a blessing from above.

With you. In his human form, he is quiet and reserved. You suspect the blinding aggression of his werewolf self is reminiscent of days long gone. The fearless warrior who lived for bloodshed has fallen into slumber, only awakening under the guide of a full moon. You can only imagine what kind of battlegrounds required such boundless violence, as he speaks little of his barbaric past.

Maybe it’s too painful to remember, you assumed.

“Before I died, you mean?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, looking up from his book. “I didn’t think you’d be curious about it.”

“I didn’t want to intrude, and you never mention it”, you explain sheepishly.

“That’s…” he purses his lips, visibly uncomfortable. “I just assumed you’d find it boring. I’m an old man. I didn’t want to saddle you with embarrassing war stories.”

You watch as a deep blush spreads across his face.

“Oh my God”, you remark, baffled by the realization. “Is that why you never…you’re terrible at this.”

He gently pats his lap.

“Come here. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

[Main Story] | [More Monsters]

[randomdragonfires]

Take Me Down To The River, And Bathe Me Clean [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | The Gods have sent her for him, and he'll have her if it's the last thing he does.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon AU; Smut; Heavy Religious Themes; Obsession.

WORD COUNT | 10.1k

A/N | Another one of my older stories, because @toms-cherry-trees reminded me of this one! This was originally beta-read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs.

She walked in sin, and had him in a trance.

A lowly servant girl, that was all she was. If he had been in his right mind, he would have never noticed her; never given her the time of day. Dragons did not spend their time entertaining sheep - especially in a time of war, when there were many and more important things to attend to.

The blood of the dragon ran hot, and his had boiled when he saw her for the first time. They said murder and bloodshed turned men into insatiable monsters and opened the doors to affluence for whores - of course, somebody had to draw benefit from the lust that came from making it out alive from battle. The men thought the cunts they got to sink their cocks into were their reward for victory; in truth, they had lost to women who made good use of war-tainted fools’ hot-headedness and filled their pockets with gold.

Aemond was different, however. While men spent their nights with women who screamed loud enough to keep every surrounding soul awake, he had taken to keeping away from sins of the flesh to keep himself in the light of the Gods. In the faint whispers of firelight, Aemond Targaryen would pore over war strategy and books of politicking, history, philosophy and diplomacy - that was when he was not reading passages of the Seven-Pointed Star, to give himself some sort of comfort during uncertain times of war.

He was a kinslayer already. He had to work doubly hard to appease the Gods now. He was a warrior and a Prince through and through, and he knew better than to give in to carnal desires that would mean next to nothing to him in the face of the lessons of the Gods that he had been taught. 

And then, she happened. She had walked in moonlight, and she had been sin incarnate.

On his first night as Prince Regent, he informed the maidservants to keep the candles burning in his study at the library, so he could continue to ponder over strategies to proceed in the fight for the throne. He had walked in while struggling to keep up with the pace of his thoughts, his calculated decisions seeming wrong at every turn and terribly in need of further thought. With his hands held behind his back so tightly that they would have gone red, Aemond walked to the private library where his study was set up - and she had been there.

He did not know if he had seen her before. He did not know if she had attended to him earlier, or if she was new to the Keep. All he knew was that she had been bent over a candle, the low light of which had given him a warm view of her soft face and the breasts that threatened to spill out of her tight servant maid’s dress. Her loose braid had fallen over her shoulder as she shielded the fire with her hand from the night air, and he watched her as she had looked at the flame intently, hoping it would keep.

With her shy little eyes and sharp nose, pouty lips, and nimble hands, she had Aemond’s attention completely, his mind already swirling with thoughts of her, of who she was, of what he could do to her.

Aemond’s very heart felt like it had been knocked down to his gut, with how heavy it was at the sight of her. There was a sense of unease about the slow loss of bearings in him, a feeling that he did not know what to make of. Illuminated by candlelight, she was the loveliest sight he’d ever known - almost divine, like a gift from the Gods themselves.

He could have her if he wanted to; burn her if he wished. He was a Targaryen Prince, now the solemn ruler of the realm - what was he, if not the living personification of fire itself? His peculiar thoughts threatened to give way to those of a sinful nature, and Aemond was painfully aware of it both in the chaos of his mind and the tightening of his trousers.

Through his hazy one-eyed gaze, worsened by the dim darkening of the night, he watched as she tilted her head ever so slightly. It took him by complete surprise how her neck called for him, for his touch. All he wanted was to run his fingers over the newly exposed skin from jaw to collarbone and squeeze her neck in his firm hold; just enough for her to feel his strength and burgeoning desire, but not so much that she’d beg to be let go of.

In the Hour of the Wolf, illuminated by the bright candlelight, Aemond Targaryen had seen the lowly servant girl for the very first time. And the moment her eyes had met his one violet orb, he knew he would never be able to let her go.

“Your Grace,” she murmured; whether it was in reverence or fear, he did not know. What he did know was that he enjoyed the respect from her, just as much as he did watching her bow down to greet him, giving him an ample view of her chest once more. Her voice was an almost quiet, tired one - one that might have belonged to a woman who would choose to stay quiet and unseen if she could manage it.

It was the nature of servants to put the wishes of the royal family above their own - so, of course, even if she wished for quiet, she would have to open her mouth and greet him with the respect that was his due. 

So far, she hadn’t disappointed him. She gripped the sides of her skirts while she waited for him to give her leave, and he wondered how far he could take this little game that he had begun to play. Would she be a willing participant in this dance of theirs that he had wanted to partake in with her? Would she put his needs above her own? Or would he have to bend and break her to have her?

“Continue,” he said, in a harsh tone that masked the growing curiosity in him. Who was this girl that had managed to capture his attention so effortlessly? Would she be warm to the touch like fire that she covered with her hands, or cold like the ice in his wine? Who was she? What was she?

He was a devout follower of the Faith, and was very well apprised of the punishments for indulging in sins of the flesh. He also knew that it would take an otherworldly grip to pull and lead him astray, and to his disappointing yet exciting realisation, he was sure that she had gained that power over him in a matter of moments - like nobody else ever had before.

If he had felt unease at how easily he had found himself willing to give in, he hadn’t bothered with it right then. Somehow, he had known that she had been worth it.

He took his seat at his chair by the desk - his scrolls, parchments, correspondence, and books already laid out for him. She had quietly walked over to the shelves with a dusting cloth in hand and had begun cleaning the older books on the shelves within his line of sight.

He watched from the corner of his eye, all the while trying his best to read from the book in hand. But his efforts had been in vain, of course. How could he have won, when sin herself was tempting him from across the chamber? How could he, when she was right there, mesmerizing him with every movement of hers?

If he hadn’t been so caught up with the voices in his mind, he would have seen her watching him from the corner of her eye and smiling, ever so slightly. Only a moment, and she had disarmed him. Sin was dangerous - and he now knew how.

Her mere existence had left him defenceless against her effortless pull toward him, and the notion that she had not even intended to hold his eye like this and yet still had - she so very much had - only worsened the weakness creeping up on him. 

He was not Aegon. He was not the rake who dishonoured powerless women over a moment’s weakness. He was not the man who seeded women who were not worthy of his blood. He was not the man who indulged in sin. And yet, as he had watched her curious eyes trying to make out the titles of the books she wiped, the fear of becoming that man grabbed him by the throat.

Those who indulged in sins of the flesh were cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells - and no pretty face was worth that fate, no matter how ethereal she seemed to him. No Targaryen would suffer that fate - he was the blood of the Conqueror; he would not be anything less than ideal. He would not be the first to slip and sin.

So why did he find himself rising from his seat and walking towards her? Hands held back and his breathing even and steady, Aemond watched as she stilled, cognizant of his presence as his dark shadow fell over the shelves in front of her. She did not turn to see him or try to run.

She froze with her eyes fixed on his unsteady, dark shadow, and he enjoyed the nervous beads of sweat that began to form on the nape of her neck, right below where the stray hairs of her braid fell haphazardly. She swallowed, and Aemond's eye followed the slow bobbing of her throat with great intent. 

Was she fearful? If yes, she would have had every right to be. He certainly was afraid - of being carried away by sin.

That was all she was. Dirt and sin, both of which he should stay cleansed of. And yet, his hands moved of their own accord - the tip of his thumb wiped away the beads of sweat forming on her skin, drop after drop. Her breath hitched in her throat in surprise as gooseflesh arose in the wake of his touch and the warmth of his breath, and Aemond could not help the cutting smile that graced his lips then.

Could he conquer sin? He did not know. But he wanted - oh, he so wanted - to learn. And if there was one thing he truly enjoyed, it was learning. With that singular thought in mind, he moved her face by the chin to the side - giving her a view of his unmarred side if she wished for it.

She looked straight ahead, making no attempt to look at him. His hand was yet to leave her chin; if anything, his grip had only gotten tighter. In close proximity, he saw the way her hair curled on her sweat-dampened skin; the way her breasts heaved as she took in laboured breaths to calm herself down as a Prince of the realm touched and held her in his tight grasp.

Aemond’s thumb lazily caressed her jaw and lower lip, fingers holding onto her like she was a startled little fawn who would run if he let her. In close proximity, the swell of her backside grazed his clothed bulge for just a moment - enough to drive him mad with want and take a step back. But even then, he did not let go.

How could sin manage to look so innocent? How could she remain so ignorant of what she was doing to him?

Those who committed sins of the flesh would spend the entirety of the afterlife making their way through the dark expanses of the Seven Hells, and she… she was a test of will. The Gods had clearly sent her to test him, for why else would he have been so easily swayed by a pretty face?

“What do they call you?” He rasped into her ear, while she, to his utter shock, lifted her lips up slightly - enough to send his senses into action. She smiled like she knew the realm's biggest secret, and wouldn't tell anyone until she'd let it unfold a bit for her own amusement.

All of a sudden, there was no chasm, no oceans to separate them - all that they had between them was a slight fraction of space, just enough to breathe. His nose brushed her earlobe and she hissed - if he had not been close to her, he would have missed it.

Her name tumbled out of her lips in faint song-like whisper - a voice made to seduce - and Aemond was convinced that she was some sort of otherworldly creature - a siren, or a fey. Her voice went straight to his cock, and his eagerness was evident as it hardened. She was yet to make even a slight movement - every part of her remained still, and if she were not breathing, he would be convinced that he had killed her with the forwardness of his actions.

His hands reached down to her neck, and he continued down as he traced a path down the soft skin of her arms with the tips of his fingers. His hands reached hers, and he pried her fingers apart, allowing him to intertwine his with hers. He guided their joined left hands to wrap around her waist, and her eyes followed his movements as her head hung low.

The laces of her worn-out brown dress called for his fingers to run through them. The sight was the most inviting one he ever knew, and he let go of her other hand to let his finger work through the first loop. He gulped at getting to see a new plane of her body - it was a very small patch of newly won skin, but it had made his mouth water and mind race nonetheless.

He wondered what it would be like if he simply swooped in, pushed her braid aside, and planted his lips right there, but Aemond managed to hold himself. Would she push him away, or would she welcome him and encourage him to work his way through the second loop? Would she let him go further down her back until his mouth reached the swell of her backside?

His calloused fingertip tapped the skin under the newly removed loop on her back once, twice, thrice. The gooseflesh that arose and the audible gasp she let out felt like the biggest victory Aemond had ever known.

He decided then that if he were going to conquer sin, he would do it looking her in the eye. After all, Princes had to be honourable - and it was not honourable to approach prey from behind.

He turned her around, and she was quick to take a step back - her back hit the old wooden shelf behind her, and he towered over her, his presence a looming threat to her virtue as one of his hands rested on the side of her head, while the fingertips of the other grazed her neck. He drew his face closer to her, and her breath hitched, and he was infinitely amused by what her thoughts right now could be.

He pulled her face up by the jaw, and now she was forced to look at him - he expected to see fear for her modesty, nervousness for her virtue, and shame for her birth and station, which took away her agency when being held so close by a Prince.

He had not expected to see eyes that matched his own fire. Was he hallucinating, or was she truly holding her own against him in silence? He did not know. But what he did know was that meeting her vision from up close had stunned him. From where he was, he would have been able to count the number of lashes on each eyelid if he so wished - and it was that realisation that broke his reverie and made him draw back.

Sin and shame. He had to be far removed from both, and yet, he had almost allowed himself to be drowned in them. Near where she had stood, he had seen the bound books on the shelves. With his one eye, he had made out the title of The Seven Pointed Star, and he awakened - as though he had been doused with ice-cold water.

How quickly had he been drawn toward her? How easily had he almost given in to temptation? His first night as Prince Regent, and he had already teetered close to sin, dancing at the edges of Seven Hells as the Gods’ most tempting offering had lured him in.

“Leave.” His voice, hoarse from being in close proximity to her, had carried through the air but seemed to have failed to reach her. It seemed as though she had been looking through him, past him, and his words had fallen on deaf ears. She had seemed to be in thought as she ignored his grunt, as though she was waiting for him to take his words back and ravish her right then.

He expected to loom over her, to engulf her - he had not considered that she might perhaps seek to do the same thing to him. The thought of being controlled or met by an equal unnerved him like nothing else ever had.

So he repeated himself and held his hands behind his back, waiting for her to follow his command and swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth. She quickly picked up her rag from the shelf and had gathered her skirts, eyes downcast and flitting about in confusion and shock.

If he looked closely, he might have noticed a slight knowing smile - one that indicated that this was far from over.

She bowed to him, eyes confident - she said much and more with her eyes, he found - as though his hands had not touched her only a few fleeting moments prior. She made away into the corridors - out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.

He let go of breath that he didn’t know he had been holding only when he had heard the definitive slam of the doors following her exit.

He who holds his own against temptations of the flesh would hold infinite power and control over his senses, the Holy Book had said.

His one eye trained over the spine of the Seven Pointed Star, and he sighed. He had looked sin in the eye and won tonight, resisting his urges. But given how she had plagued his thoughts so strongly even after running away, how long would it be before he gave in?

Aemond Targaryen was not a man of depravity.

He was not a man of sin. And yet, it was terrifying to him how he very easily could be whenever he was even remotely in her presence.

It was maddening how gooseflesh arose on his skin even when she was farthest away from his vision, blocked by many others who were positioned closer to him. His palms would become drenched just at the sight of her skirts billowing as she took a turn, without even having seen her face or body. Just the mere sight of the edge of her skirts was enough to drive him mad with want; and want her, he did.

On some days, he would have to sit with his hands held together tightly at the supper table while she served the food, if only to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing her hand. His heart beat loudly and heavily in a steady thump, thump, thump - so definitive, he wondered if his family could hear it at the table.

What was worse was that she knew. She knew the maddening effect she had on him. Her lips curled up just slightly at how his eye would flit to her chest while she bent down to pick up his plate from the table. After dinner, before he could catch her and keep her in his hold, she would be gone. Regardless of the time of day, he sought her out like a moth to a flame. It did not matter where he was; it was always her that he wanted.

The shame of being driven with want for her touch - a mere servant girl’s touch - had taken over him, consumed him entirely. It spread through him faster than wildfire ever could, and hit him like a well-aimed arrow through to his heart. Only a week ago, he had been swirling with thoughts of battle and regency.

On one particular day, he had caught her tending to the gardens while walking in the corridors of the Red Keep. It was instantaneous how he immediately managed to make out her form even from far away. He stepped closer to the railing and watched with a stoic expression on his face and yearning in his mind, still completely befuddled as to what this servant girl had that had pulled her to him in an instant.

Soon enough, the girls who were with her had dispersed, and she’d waved them goodbye before going back to kneeling down next to the bushes, taking good care to not damage the roses as she dug out the mud.

Hands caked with dirt, possibly. The idea should have repulsed him, but the thought of her placing those very hands on him and tracing a muddy path down his chest knocked the very breath out of him in an instant.

Each day in the following week was torture for him - catching glimpses of her in pieces, in fragments, but never entirely and never enough to properly see her. Each sighting of her skirts, her hair, or her back was a moment on its own, frozen in time. She’d taken good care to make herself scarce, so much so that he worried.

Had he frightened her with his forwardness? Did she fear him? Wanting her was supposed to bring her closer to him, but it seemed to him that all it had done was push her away, oceans apart.

It killed him - how his mind, heart, and soul sang for her, a siren song so rich in wanting that it would leave nothing but destruction in its wake as he sought her out - and yet, she hadn't met his eye after that night when she’d run away from him, but she smiled.

He remembered clearly the way his fingertip had grazed the slightly exposed skin of her back; the way her breath had hitched when his fingers ran over her neck, and how she’d frozen for a moment when she felt his warm breath on her. And her voice - gods, her voice - he kept her name and her voice running through his mind like a desperate prayer, as though it was the only word that would bring him salvation from all the sins that he’d committed.

He remembered the slight upward curve of her lips, almost as though she was challenging him to go further. He thought about her all day, every day - and yet, it seemed as though it was never enough.

When this game of hide and seek had become too much for him, he’d take to the comfort of the night to relieve himself in the privacy of his bedchambers. He knew it was a sin to touch himself and spill into his own hand - but if he had to commit a negligible error to keep himself from committing a grave sin, like taking her no matter how much he wanted it, he would have to.

Aemond spent his days thinking her name, and his nights voicing it out in moans, grunts, and gasps as he let his hand work his painfully hard cock. Each time he pleasured himself, he remembered how her hands felt against his own - he imagined those hands on his cock, stroking each vein of his back and forth until he had himself drowning in pleasure, with white-hot spend spurting all over his hands and stomach. He imagined her hands coated with his seed.

She was an enthralling beauty. Calm, but with tempestuous eyes. Quiet, but with a flame to match his own. He'd hold a torch for her forever if that's what it took. He wanted her like he’d wanted nothing else.

His eye would remain closed throughout - the irony of his eye having to be closed for him to properly see her now did not escape him. It was a need, to be able to have her in some shape or form - almost as though he was at the edge of his body, and she was the only one who could save him from losing himself.

He imagined her face resting on his chest, her breasts pressed onto him. Her hands on his cock, his down her skirts. He’d let his mind take him all the way, and each time he spilled onto himself, he drove himself mad with more want - it was a vicious, endless cycle. He continued until he tired himself out and went to sleep, his last word of the night always being a faint and needy whisper of her name as he wondered what it would be like if she was sharing his bed, his heart, his life.

The shame would engulf him soon after he woke, and he’d grit his teeth at how the gods had chosen to play him. If they wanted him to be righteous and good, why put her in his path? If he was meant to resist her, why make her irresistible? Why play him for a fool? The unanswered questions, those that sound like he had been screaming into a well, gave way to a gigantic lump in his throat.

What she’d made of him - this pathetic, needy, pining mess of a man - could not stand for much longer. If he had to throw himself at the feet of the Seven and beg for penance, for absolution, for peace and quiet - he would. He would do it a thousand times over. He hated that he loved the feeling of wanting her. He was lost on what he could possibly do with the emotions creeping onto him through his blood as he pondered over the contrast.

With his intent and goal clear in mind, Aemond walked to the Royal Sept. He decided that he would fall at the Father’s feet, beg for mercy in his judgement, and pray to be forgiven. He would apologise to the Mother for playing host to foul and sinful thoughts that should have had no place in the mind of a Prince. He would leave himself at the mercy of the Maiden and make his shame known for wanting to defile a woman who’d done nothing but go about her duty. 

She was there, bent down on her knees at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, praying. She was right in front of him.

The Sept was empty, save for him and her. Aemond’s hands went to his back quickly, and he managed to stop moving his feet to silence the clicking of his boots. He watched her intently, fiercely, unnervingly.

He may have come to the Sept as a pathetic man wanting to give the Gods their due for his sinful indiscretions, but her presence had immediately taken him to who he was a week ago on the fateful night when he met her - a starved man who was mad with desire for her.

There was something to be said about how he’d come to the Sept ready to beg for forgiveness - only for the pathetic thoughts to become a distant memory as she invaded his mind once more. He was a hunter with a primal urge again.

Hot, ready, and absolutely ravenous, ready to stake out his prey - with her knees bent and her face unassuming as she let the comforting and safe feeling of the Sept take over her, she had no idea what dangers to her virtue the man stealthily standing behind her posed.

But Aemond did. He mapped out every inch of the skin that he could and could not see from where he stood, and he knew exactly how he wanted to touch, enjoy, and worship every inch of her. From where he stood, the entirety of her looked so small that she could have fit into his one hand. He closed his fist at the thought of holding her tight and watched.

The light from the stained glass windows reflected and fell around her in a bright ring of fiery orange and light rose, and she looked lit from within as the light illuminated and surrounded her. She may be wearing an old, worn-out servant maid's dress - but in the divine light of the Sept, surrounded by all things holy, she was nothing less than a goddess to Aemond.

Standing at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, she was a Goddess he wanted to claim; in mind, heart, and soul. The Maiden had fallen from the skies and had taken to taunting him with her beauty.

In the light, all he saw was her. Everything around her had vanished, and she was all his vision could register. It was almost as though the Maiden was offering her to him, asking him to indulge, rewarding him for all his years of obedience.

Everything fell into place, and all his thoughts made sense. She was sin, but she was the reward too - perhaps knowing that already was the reason why she had smiled. Only she was visible to him in a grand Sept adorned with many religious relics - a clear sign that she was all he was meant to see.

How could he not have her? He’d spent years being the obedient son, the good son. He’d spent years studying the blade, learning the histories of his realm and the philosophies. He made sure to be the ideal son his mother wanted, and now he was a Prince Regent of Westeros. A powerful man within his own right.

And all his time being good had finally led him to her - a sinful indulgence. And if he had earned the power he had, he had earned her too. She was his, and soon he would make it known - to her and to the damned Gods. He would make them all watch from above - all the Gods, the Old, the New, the foreign ones and his Valyrian ones - as he worshipped her in their place, as she usurped them in his world. She would be a goddess, and he, a devoted, starving, and humble man - on his knees for her.

He glanced over at her and then at the Seven statues one last time before walking away, his coat flying sleekly behind him as she finally finished her prayers and turned around. He forgave her for consuming him, his thoughts, and invading his very being. His hand stretched out and laid floating mid-air, reaching out for a girl who had not yet sensed his presence.

In the distance, as a second son walked away with his mind made, the young servant maid’s ears picked up the hauntingly familiar, fading sounds of his boot-clad purposeful gait. The candle she lit at the Maiden’s feet melted away, the sight making for something ethereally beautiful in the bright light.

She walked away soon after, and did not notice as the flame sputtered, faded, and went out.

Aemond Targaryen was a man starved.

This game they played, this push and pull, was enough to drive a disciplined and restrained man like Aemond to his wit’s end. His nights became longer as he stayed up to pleasure himself and moan out her name until the entire corridor heard it; his days became longer in her absence too, as he stayed alert, trying to find her in some corner or another. This dance that they paired up for was an absolute tease - he always found himself reaching out for a hand that did not fall into his grasp, one that he missed by a fraction of space each time.

She would walk into a corner and be gone before he could catch sight of her; he spotted her braided hair in a sea of heads from the dias once, but he could not keep up as the servants moved to work. In the library, in the corridors, in the gardens, in the common rooms - he’d missed her narrowly everywhere.

He had always been a man who worked for what he had. His dragon, his sword skill, his intelligence, his fearsome reputation - Aemond worked hard to earn every single one of his known traits, and as was the natural order of things, he was made to earn her too. It made his patience run out slowly and swiftly - but he did not give up. He would not.

An offering from the Gods was never simply handed over - there are many trials and tribulations to be faced first. And in his case, it would mean finding her first.

One fine day, he did.

He had seen her enjoying herself. She held a basket of dirty clothes to be taken to wash, and her companion was hidden by a wall. Aemond knew that pursuing her right here, despite every bone in his body wanting to, would not be a good idea - he could not afford to be found lusting after a serving girl with such intensity.

But he could stay around for a while and hear her speak. He did love her voice - the hold her siren song had on him in each waking moment was absolutely crushing, and he’d let it take him.

He stood out of sight and heard her talking about the Holy Day festivities out in the city, and when he heard the voice of her companion, his blood ran cold. A man - she had been speaking to and entertaining the company of a man. She was giving him her laughs freely and her company with nothing in return - laughs and time that should have been his.

Her lips curled up in the most captivating way, and it hurt and angered Aemond to think that it was not meant for him. He once again heard the man speak about taverns and dances happening all night on the day of, and Aemond’s hand clutched the hilt of his dagger. 

"Vaogenka Andali," he seethed. [Andal scum]

It would be so easy, so simple to rip his throat out right now. He could easily kill him and take her, claim her right there as the man watched Aemond take her in every possible way with his dying breath. He would do that to every man who dared to meet her eyes and put himself in her path, for he was the only one with the right to behold the sight of her.

Sin of course, was a common temptation. No wonder everybody wanted to partake. No matter. She was his. And judging by her next words, it seemed that she knew it too.

“Apologies, I’m already spoken for.”

His hold on his dagger loosened as his mind and heart caught up with her words.

He loved the push and pull of this sinful game they played, and it seemed that she did too. His smile was harsh and cutting, dripping with victory and pride at knowing that his want for her affections was uncontested. He slowly slinked away, and completely missed how she leaned her head back at the sound of his boots, only to spot his silver hair in the distance.

He missed her sly smile once more.

That night, her words ran through his mind over and over as he imagined her whispering sweet nothings in his ear while letting him slip his cock into her cunt, The mental image of her wanting, moaning and at his mercy while he fucked into her mercilessly had sent a shivering bolt of pleasure to his spine. It was the sight of her looking up at him and batting her lashes innocently that did it for him, and sent him careening to his peak.

On the seventh day of the seventh moon, a day considered holy for the New Gods, the prayers at the Royal Sept were to happen late in the morning in the presence of the royal family and the courtiers. Aemond had to make an appearance in the beginning as his mother welcomed those of the court and noble houses, and so he stood, with his hands held behind his back, trying to spot a familiar face amidst the throngs of people who had gathered.

There are very few serving girls around, she was not there. Where would she be?

Aemond took his leave, and he watched as the High Septon took his place at the front and led the proceedings. He walked out of the Sept through the backdoor, with the faint and dull sounds of prayer running through his ears as he remained within earshot.

“The Seven themselves walked among the Andals in the hills of Andalos, and it was they who crowned Hugor of the Hill and promised him and his descendants great kingdoms in a foreign land…” 

The Septon’s voice reverberated through Aemond’s mind, and given all the shame he had felt and the conflicted nature of his thoughts ever since he met her, he felt the need to listen to the Word of the Gods. And so he froze in the darkened, empty corridor, with his back leaned onto the wall and his hands held together on his front, finger tapping incessantly into his thigh as he listened.

“The Seven had promised King Hugor a golden land amidst towering mountains…”

Promises. What had the Gods promised him?

Almost as though they had heard his prayers, she had walked in. 

She was what the Gods had promised him.

She looked no different from the first time he’d seen her, and his mind was racing. His throat had suddenly gone dry, and his voice was seemingly stripped away from him as he finally faced her.

He’d wanted her for too long, and now she was right in front of him; his for the taking. He would not let her go this time.

The basket that she held in her hands had a variety of fruits that he presumed were for the lords and ladies to eat once they’d finished with their prayers. If his assumptions were right, she was on her way to join those at the Sept to pray. 

The Maiden as he saw her, was on her way to the Sept to bless them with her presence. And Aemond was about to show her that he was the most devout man in the Kingdoms. It did not matter how loud the echoing sounds of their prayers were - he’d worship her like none of them could.

He stalked toward her with the cadence of a starved man, one that had been kept away from his prey for too long. And what was he, if not that? The High Septon’s voice was faintly audible to him, but nowhere close to impactful enough to sway him towards any other course. 

“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” Aemond heard him say. No, none of them managed to penetrate his thoughts - but this woman, this Goddess amongst men… She owned him. She had his heart, his soul, and everything that he was.

She quickly dropped the basket and her eyes followed the one stray apple that rolled away from them both. She couldn’t for long however, not when he’d pushed her to the wall and held her by the soft skin of her cheek.

Her eyes, meeting his own. His legs lodged on either side of hers. His hand, digging into her waist like he wanted to bruise her, brand her, mark her as his.

She turned to look sideways, and seemed as though she was worried about people walking in on them in the dark, isolated corridor. He pulled her face harshly to meet his eye once more - Aemond knew that they’d all take the front entrance and not the back - they’d be left alone, if only for a little time.

He will have her today. He will have her if it’s the last thing he does.

He ran his fingers over her forehead, slowly bringing them down to trace her eye. Her eyelids shut immediately, and her breath hitched as he travelled further down and met her nose. He cannot stop now  - he will not stop - and he got to her lips, fingers hovering over the outline. He felt the faint dampness from when she’d probably licked her lips not too long ago, and gasped.

It was all he could do to not slip those fingers inside.

Her eyes are locked with his one violet orb, and he looks into her as his fingers map out every little plane of her face. He felt his knees going weak as she held her own against his intense gaze, fire matching his as she refused to break contact with his eye. His voice was hoarse and it was almost painful to let the words out, but he knew that he’d explode if he did not. 

“Do you… have any idea what you do to me?”

“Perhaps I will be better served if you tell me,” she whispered. There was no fear in her, he noticed. He may have seen her as his prey to claim, but it seemed that she was determined about keeping them both on equal footing. It only drives him toward her a lot more. His fingers travelled down to her chin, and made their featherlight way down her neck, moving as her throat bobbed while she gulped. When they reached her bosom, he watched as she audibly gasped, and wondered what other noises he could elicit from that pretty mouth.

“I have been driven mad with want. Sinful, uncouth thoughts that befit a lowly barbarian, rather than a prince. All because….” He gulped and her eyes still did not move away from his. He holds her chin to raise her face, while letting the other wander over her gown and fall on her clothed breast.

“Pride goes before a fall.” the High Septon’s faint voice reverberated through the dark corridor. Aemond is the blood of Valyria; closer to the Gods than men. With his unquestionable blood and status came a sense of pride that ensured that he’d never be looked down upon, pride that he’d never let go of. But tonight, he will. For her, he will. For he does not want to fall - he wants to fly high, higher and higher still with her.  When he faced her, he realised that he would go on his knees in reverence if she asked. 

“I’ve thought about you ever since I first saw you,” he said. His hands squeezed her breast as though he was testing out the action, and he saw how the back of her palm hit the wall and the other gripped his doublet, trying to find purchase as the faint pleasure shot through her.

“You… you are special. You are the Gods’ answer to all my prayers… You….” he took a long breath as he studied her face, looking for any signs of discomfort. “You…”

She raised her eyebrow as though she challenged him to continue, and he wondered if he should. He heard what he’d said, and it sounded no less than delusional - but how could it be wrong, if it felt so right?

“The Gods… they sent you to me.” My Goddess, he thought. “What do they want? What do you want?” 

The hand on her breast continued to knead at her soft flesh through her clothes, and his other hand descended too as soon as he watched her lips part - but that wasn’t enough. He needed an answer. So he stopped his ministrations and asked again, stern voice giving way for nothing apart from what he wished to hear. 

“What do you want from me?”

“I only want you,” she breathed out, her hands covering his as she caged them over her chest.

The Maiden had come to bless the earthly beings with her presence, with her love, and she wanted him. Wanting to wait no longer, his lips found hers.

The air crackled with an electric intensity as their lips met, desire and longing fueling the moment. His hands trembled slightly as they traced the curves of her face, fingers brushing against her soft skin with a reverence that bordered on worship.

Their kiss deepened, and he pulled her closer, his body pressed against hers, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat matching his own. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her as their tongues intertwined. The taste of her was intoxicating to Aemond - a heady blend of sweetness and fire that seared itself into his memory, branding him with a hunger he never knew existed.

Time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into obscurity as they lost themselves in the intensity of their union. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and he reciprocated, as if afraid that she might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Every fibre of his being was consumed by her, by the intoxicating sensation of her lips on his, the soft sighs that escaped her, and the way her body moulded seamlessly against his. 

He pushed them both towards the wall and let his hands rest on the stony surface, caging her. She leaned forward and caught his lips this time, letting her hands wander over the planes of his shoulders, his arms, his clothed chest. Aemond’s hand grasped at her neck and squeezed - enough to elicit a gasp from her, but not so much that she’d beg to not be choked to death. 

Her hands snuck in through the hem of his doublet, fingertips grazing over the bare skin of his abdomen. If Aemond dropped dead right then, he would die a happy, blessed man. Blessed by a Goddess herself.

“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” the High Septon recited. He recognized the words from the Holy Book, and could not help but agree. As the taste of her lips consumed him and her touch left him in a mindless frenzy, he knew.

Her touch on his bare skin ignited a fire in him that already burned bright, and as he readied himself for more, the High Septon’s distant words echoed through the darkened corridors once more.

“Men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One.”

And right then, a Prince of Valyrian blood, a man closer to the Gods than to men, kneeled. Just as the Seven preached kneeling down to the divine deities, he listened. Aemond was quick to hold her ankles and swiftly pull his hands up her legs, hiking her skirts up with each passing moment. The chill of the air around them hit her newly exposed skin instantly, as he made note of the gooseflesh that arose on her calves. He pushed his face forward to kiss her knees as his hands continued their way up, pulling her skirts all the way up to her hips and exposing her already drenched clothed cunt to him.

When his lips met the apex of her thighs, she let out a loud moan. Aemond was convinced right then, that pleasuring her was what he was put on the earth for. What better purpose can a man have, than to satisfy a Goddess amongst men?

As though they could not survive without each other’s touch any longer, her hands pulled at his hair - she wanted more, and he was all but a devoted soldier at her feet, giving her all that she wished for. He pulled her smallclothes down to her ankles, and parted her folds to bring her wet and wanting cunny to his line of sight. 

He looked up to face her, and her heavy breathing and heaving chest filled him with energy beyond that which he was humanely capable of handling. His Goddess had perhaps blessed him already, but he would be amiss if he did not properly pay her his obeisance. She’d sensed what he intended to do almost immediately, and through her barely hidden lust and half lidded eyes, she murmured.

“Anyone could come. Anyone could see.”

“Let them.” 

He pushed his head between her thighs and licked from her opening to her pearl, already drunk on the taste of her. She arched into him, and he took good care to tightly grip onto her thighs, keeping her and her skirts in place so they'd not disturb him. It would seem that his hot breath on her and his nose nudging her bud was enough to have her lose all sense of control and moan, and he relished in watching her let the pleasure take over her with each movement. He then sucked at her pearl diligently before fucking into her with his tongue once more and she pushed herself at him like she couldn't have enough.

“Those who indulge in sins of the flesh would be cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells.” The High Septon’s voice echoed through, but Aemond was far too gone, far too cuntstruck as he became addicted to the feeling of her pearl between his lips. Why would he be bothered about trudging through the Seven Hells, when the Seven Heavens were right here, between his beloved’s thighs?

He was sure he heard someone, but he was too in deep to care. He’s drowning in her; the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent of her and everything that makes her the Goddess that she is to him. 

After all, how can he not? The Seven themselves had shined their light on her and sent her for him, had they not? The deeper he buried his tongue in her weeping cunny, the more the intoxicating smell of her engulfed him. And he let it. He’d let her take over him a hundred times over, for every lifetime that the Gods see fit to bless him with. 

A thin streak of light escaped in and illuminated her thigh, and he heard her moan wantonly as his tongue continued its unrelenting assault. Her pretty sounds only served to drive him mad with want, and he pressed his nose into her bud as he continued to feast on her and pushed her against the wall with a hand splayed across her stomach, pressing into her as she grinded against him.

Her hands tightened around his head and pulled at his spun-silver hair. Her cries of pleasure were the only sounds he heard as she toppled over the edge, her mind a haze as white hot pleasure coursed through her. Seven save him, Aemond was not a greedy man - but it was with greed that he did not let a single drop of her go to waste and continued to pleasure her through her peak as he lapped it all up. When he stood back up, he did so with a glistening chin, painted with her slick. 

He knew very well from the moment he saw her, that if he touched her once, he’d never let go. What he had not anticipated was how little patience he’d have - for as soon as she recovered from her peak, he quickly freed his cock and sheathed himself in her in one swift thrust. Her thighs quivered in his hold and her hands flew to his shoulders, looking for purchase as she struggled to stand on her own - her knees seemed to have melted under his touch.

He lowered his head onto her shoulder, letting the feeling of her tight heat warm his length for a moment as he stilled. She clenched around him immediately and he mouthed a path of feather light kisses down her neck. Every bead of sweat was visible to him and he breathed it all in, following it with a firm lick up the skin that left her shivering under him. He let his hand rest and pull at the hair on the nape of her neck, cold from being dampened by sweat.

It would seem that his Goddess was as impatient for him as he was for her, and couldn’t wait for him to lay his claim on her. While he was content to stay buried to the hilt in her wet cunt for a while, he knew that they were risking it all - anyone could walk in at any moment, and they had to make it quick. 

The thought of being caught out like this, buried inside of her, would usually shame him. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed - how could he? He’d let them all watch as he took her in all the ways a man could a woman before he let her go for fear of strangers. After all, dragons did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Especially not when it is a Goddess’ satisfaction that is at stake. 

“Lives are like candle flames that can be snuffed out by an errant puff of wind,” the High Septon said, and he agreed instantly. If life was finite, if he could die today, wouldn’t it be prudent to take pleasure from a divine deity that presented herself to him, wet and wanting?

Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she breathed into him, her warm breath hitting his lip as he kissed her once more. She was as desperate as he was, pushing against him in search of pleasure - pleasure that only he could give her - was all the indication he needed as he began thrusting into her, hard and fast.

She let out a choked moan as he smiled against her lips, his own a sharp line that looked more arrogant than happy - as befitting a Targaryen Prince. She lowered her hands and let it slip under his doublet once more, letting her hands roam free over his back and planting her nails into the skin. Aemond was sure that red blood had bloomed where she’d dug into him, but the heat of her, her walls clenching around him were all that mattered.

He locked her in his tight hold - one hand pulling at her hair so she’d look at him while he fucked into her mercilessly, and another on the small of her back, fingers ghosting over the top of her backside - and she was caged in by him. He held her so tight, like he worried that she’d disappear if he loosened his hold even just a little. Their kisses were all tongue and teeth as he rutted into her, hitting her rough spot with each thrust. He groaned as her lips parted, a thin line of spittle between them as he lost himself in the feeling of her.

Her back hit the wall repeatedly and the heavy thuds were in tandem with the wet sounds of his cock in her cunt. Her heavy breaths, the tightening of her stomach, the touch that she sought out and all the sounds that she made, the ones that he'd never tire of hearing, were enough to drive him to madness.

Her hands roamed over all the bare skin she could find, and when he thrusted too harshly she would reward him with blood red crescent-moon cuts with the tips of her nails. “I have… waited… for so long…” Aemond panted, his words punctuating each push into her. “Imagined having you like this, tight and warm around me,” he grunted.

She let out a choked moan, followed by her fastening her legs around him as he lifted her up and continued to let her know how much he desired her. 

“Fucked into my fist each night to the thought of you… Wrong, so wrong…” he growled, and his hands quickly went up to her chest and pulled her neckline down, freeing her breasts. He kneaded at the flesh and marvelled in how perfectly they fit in his palms, almost as though they were made for him to have and hold. With each touch, he felt the heel of her feet press into the small of his back through his clothes. Nudging him, taunting him, driving him mad.

“Want you so much, you’re mine…Issa jaesa.” [My Goddess] 

Every declaration was accompanied by a rough thrust and he felt hot pleasure blooming in his lower abdomen. But he wasn’t ready, not quite yet. Not if she wasn’t. He needed her to peak with him and truly join him as one. He needed there to be indisputable proof that she was his. The thought of her spending the day with his white hot spend running and drying down her thighs was what pushed him to circle her nub with his long finger and thrust animalistically into her, coaxing moans and a blooming warmth in her belly.

“Yours, my prince. Only yours…” she murmured in between gasps, and she peaked immediately after. He was powerless as she clenched tightly around him, and in a few slow yet definitive thrusts, his release came soon after. 

Looking in between their joined bodies, he ran his hand up her stomach and held onto her sweat-coated breast. No sight in the world had ever been so divine.

“Death is never far in this world, and seven hells await sinners…” the High Septon’s voice said as he finished his sermon. Having just found his life’s greatest pleasure in her, he found that he did not mind the Holy man’s words. 

He may be a Valyrian prince closer to God to others, but in front of her, he was only a man. And what power does a man have against a sinful temptress like her? How was he to possibly stay away? If this is how good sin felt, then Aemond realised that he would not mind being left to rot in the Seven Hells if he would be allowed the memory of her in his mind, heart and soul for eternity. It would be enough to keep him alive in the land of the undead.

He stayed buried in her until he softened once more, his hand twirling a dampened stray curl on her neck as he continued to knead at her breast and roll the soft nipple with the other. His soft kisses on her neck were only made better by her tired breaths, and he bit into her neck quickly before he let go.

He missed the warmth of her touch immediately as he pushed his cock back into his trousers, and corrected himself to make himself presentable once more. When he caught a glimpse of the stray hair on his shoulders, he looked around to find his leather hair tie - only for her closed fist to reach out to him. He opened his palm and she let the hairtie fall onto his hand, and he smirked at the normalcy of the action.

After he set his hair in place, he clutched his hands behind his back as he watched her correct her sleeves and smooth down the skirts of her worn-out dress. She smiled at him when she was done with her clothes and put a hand in her hair to tame it, and with her mischievous yet charming grin, she healed all the scars in him that she had not caused.

When she was done, he found the stray apple that had rolled away from her basket and put it in with the rest. He handed it to her and could not resist letting his hand push away the fine hairs that stuck to her forehead. When he finished, he kissed her well, and he kissed her true - no trace of the roughness with which he’d taken her only moments ago, a soft reminder of his claim to her that he'd just staked. 

Their foreheads met and he held her by the back of her head, and he smirked as he heard his Goddess speak once more.

“Will you come to me again?”

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MASTERLIST

[7s3ven]

GREEK ROMANTIC. luke castellan

IN WHICH… luke castellan joins an exchange program to visit camp jupiter for sword fighting experience but ends up spending most of his time with a girl from said roman camp.

Warnings : lowkey loser! Luke, kinda long… so uh yeah, Luke kinda thirsts over reader (he’s 19 and has spent most of his time in a camp, he does not get girls), i worked on this for like a week (PLZZZ READ AND LIKE AND COMMENT AND SUBSCRIBE 🫡), less strict version of Camp Jupiter

—

idea inspired by @the-empty-refrigerator !

I literally do classical studies, this is perfect for me to yap abt my roman knowledge. I have no idea what Camp Jupiter looks like so imma just use my Roman architecture knowledge for this. THIS IS MY FIRST LUKE FIC IN A WHILE LOL.

( disclaimer : info will differ from this fic to the canon plot bc i don’t know much abt camp jupiter )

In all honesty, Luke was a little nervous. He had willingly signed up for an exchange program between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter but now that he was on his way to the latter, he was anxiously bouncing his leg.

Years ago, there was a thick mist between the two camps due to previous events involving bloody wars. Now, that mist was lifted and the campers were free to sign up for an exchange program to visit the other.

Luke was wondering why he had agreed to sign up in the first place. Chiron promised he’d gain further experience in sword fighting, but warned that it wouldn’t be easy.

Camp Half-Blood prided itself on its friendly approach. Camp Jupiter was anything but that. Their campers were rugged, harsh, and disciplined by Lupa, the wolf who raised Romulus and Remus. Of course, their war-like nature made sense because the camp was founded on bloodshed when Romulus slayed Remus.

Luke lifted his head, looking around to see if he could spot anyone in a purple shirt. He was waiting on the side of the road, looking rather pathetic and sad to those passing by.

A black car with tinted windows rolled to a stop in front of Luke, and the car jolted open. “Are you Luke Castellan?” The demigod inside asked. Luke slowly nodded his head. “Hop in.” There was a bit of awkward shuffling from Luke to squeeze past the unnecessary amount of swords in the car. “So, how’s Camp Half-Blood?” The demigod driving questioned, looking at Luke through his shaded sunglasses.

“Good…” Luke was secretly relieved that someone was talking to avoid an awkward car ride. “Probably less demanding than Camp Jupiter, though. I’ve heard horror stories of your training from campers.”

The boy laughed as he sharply turned around a corner. “Yeah. It’s pretty bad. Made me wish I was a normal kid when I had to do all those pushups.” He paused before starting a new conversation. “Do you workout? Because you’ve got some nice muscles. Not to be weird or anything.”

“Uh, yeah.” Luke cleared his throat, “I sort of have to. Being a swordsman and all that.”

The other demigod whistled. “Must be hard, man. I’m Sohan, by the way. Son of Mercury, Hermes for you.”

Luke leaned forward, “I’m son of Hermes. That makes us like… distantly related or something.” Sohan laughed and tilted his head back.

“I like you, Castellan. Mind if I call you Luke?”

“Go ahead.”

The rest of the drive was each demigod taking their turn to explain different parts of their camps. Luke realized that Camp Jupiter didn’t have all the fun activities Half-Blood had. Though, there was a more bloody version of Capture the Flag.

“So you know how you have camp councillors, right? We have something similar but we call them praetors. They’re basically the leaders of the camp.” Sohan explained as he bit into his sugary chocolate bar. “We have two at a time, one girl and one guy.”

“So there’s only two leaders?” Luke questioned while opening the wrapping of his cheeseburger.

“Praetors are the highest leaders. Other than that, we have centurions, augurs, and quaestors. It’s confusing, I know, but you’ll get the hang of it. You don’t really need to know what everybody does, just who’s who.”

It was all too confusing for Luke.

“Our current male praetor is also a son of Mercury, his name’s Jae. Our other one is a daughter of Venus, Aphrodite for you. I think.” Sohan paused before shaking his head, dismissing his doubt. “We all thought she was kind of crazy for going after the position. That’s when I learnt to never underestimate a child of Venus because they are brutal.” Sohan chuckled as the car finally came to an abrupt halt.

Luke peeked out the window, gazing at the tall trees. Past the thick forest, he could faintly see a river.

Sohan grabbed the swords from beside Luke, sheepishly chuckling. “New sword delivery.” He uttered, “Didn’t have time to put them away. Some are still in a box.”

Luke merely hummed as he hopped out of the car. “Need help?” He questioned. He took a handful of swords from Sohan’s pile, easily supporting their weight. Sohan carefully stacked a box on top of everything else before nodding.

“You know, if I was a girl or gay, I’d have a crush on you.” Sohan uttered as the pair walked through the forest. “How do the girls at Half-Blood like you?”

“I’ve been chased multiple times. That should say it all.” Nothing was scarier to Luke than a hoard of girls sprinting towards him on Valentine’s Day.

“That’s the Tiber River.” Sohan pointed out as Luke stumbled into a sunny clearing. “The river that Romulus and Remus were thrown into.” Sohan led the way towards small, slightly unstable bridge. He effortlessly walked over it, ignoring the way the rickety wood creaked.

Luke sighed, having no choice but to follow after Sohan unless he wanted to swim.

“I’ll be the one showing you around. I just have to drop these swords off with the praetors, or at least one of them, and then we can begin.” Sohan piped up. He was shorter than Luke with shiny black hair and olive skin. Luke assumed he was Asian with the slight accent peeking through and the red-inked tattoo on his shoulder displaying a dragon with Chinese characters.

“Praetor!” Sohan suddenly shouted. Luke spotted the H/C-haired girl as she turned around, in the middle of talking with another camper. Luke couldn’t instantly tell who her mother was.

“Oh, the swords. Soldier, go find Praetor Jae.” Y/N hurried the other girl off before jogging towards Sohan.

“This is Luke Castellan. The exchange camper.” Sohan said, trying to gesture towards Luke. The action caused the box on top of the swords to slip. It opened, a group of swords toppling out.

Luke was quick to react. Instead of attempting to catch every sword, he simply grabbed Y/N and pulled her side before the swords could skewer her.

There was a second of silence before Sohan spoke up. “I apologise for my clumsiness, Praetor.” He immediately crouched down to rearrange the weapons, his movements so fast Luke thought they were rehearsed.

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line as she stared at the swords on the ground. Her gaze flickered to Luke, who still had a tight grip on her arm. “Luke Castellan, right?” She asked, lips curving into a small yet charming smile.

Sohan looked at Y/N then at Luke. “I need to talk to Praetor Jae about something important. Praetor, would you mind showing Luke around?” Sohan didn’t wait for an answer before clumsily hurrying off, dropping swords every two seconds.

“You forget these swords!” Luke called after him but Sohan wasn’t listening.

“Dump them here with the rest.” Y/N instructed with a shrug. Luke dropped the swords, watching as they hit the floor with a loud clang. “Let’s get started with the tour.” She formally clasped her hands behind her back, standing up straighter than Luke had ever seen somebody stand.

“This is the Praetorian Gate, the entrance to the main barracks. On your right is the bathrooms. This street is called the Via Principalis, it’s the central road lined with barracks, the mess hall, and other necessaries needed for our wellbeing.”

Luke was a little stunned with how Y/N was speaking. She was talking like her words were scripted and had been practiced a million times in the mirror. Luke usually free-styled his tours.

“Centurion Sohan will show you your room once he finishes with his errand. For now, all you need to know is that you’ll be staying in one of these buildings. Behind them is the compost bin. Please do not jump in there because we have had to go dumpster diving to retrieve Half-Blood campers.”

Luke let out a quiet sigh. “It was Travis, wasn’t it?”

“You know him?” Y/N questioned, looking over her shoulder in mild interest.

“Unfortunately. He’s my brother.”

Y/N silently nodded, holding back a comment. “Beside the compost bin, where your raccoon of a brother jumped into for a game of hide and seek, are the stables.” Y/N led Luke down a smaller path to show him the stables. He glanced at the bin, arching an eyebrow at a badly drawn version of Travis on a sign with a large X on it.

“We had to ensure nobody else jumped in again.” Y/N explained, “So we put up a sign. It’s not very well-drawn. All the Apollo kids were away so we had no one artistic around. Over there is the training centre. Feel free to use it whenever. We have plenty of new swords as you already know.”

“What about those buildings?” Luke asked in curiosity as they walked back towards the main entrance.

“That’s the Praetorium and Principa, used to hold meetings and act as headquarters. Those aren’t important to you.”

Camp Jupiter was bigger than Luke expected. There were two main areas for civilisation and even a university.

“This is the forum. This area of camp is basically a replicant of Rome itself.” Y/N piped up, “There’s the senate house, also used for meetings, New Rome University, the Coliseum where we sometimes train or host mock battles, Circus Maximum, again used for training, sometimes chariot racing, ceremonies, and so on. There’s a lake over there if you ever wanna spend your free time swimming, but I will warn you that if you ever take your shirt off, it will attract attention.” Y/N teasingly smiled, confusing Luke. She was strictly sticking to her job as a praetor a moment ago, reciting a speech about the camp.

“Uh… why will it attract attention?” Luke sheepishly asked, feeling a little embarrassed for not catching on.

“You’re a new boy, Luke Girls here love fresh meat, especially when they have as much muscle as you.”

Luke’s cheeks flushed light pink. “Right.” He uttered, suddenly aware of how a group of girls was waiting for Y/N to leave so they could pounce on him. “Let’s uh, go back to the bin. I wanna see that sign of my brother again.”

Y/N slightly chuckled. “They aren’t gonna hurt you, Castellan.” She said, referring to the girls behind her, “Unless you want them to.”

“I would prefer to keep all my limbs attached to my body, thank you very much.”

Y/N cracked another amused smile. “Suit yourself. I like my boys missing an arm.” She joked.

“Guess I’ll cut mine off then after all.” Luke wittily retorted.

“We have a game of capture the flag happening tonight if you want to join.” Y/N offered, “You can sacrifice your arm for me then.”

Luke grinned, happy he was actually getting along with someone from Camp Jupiter given their rivalry with Half-Blood. “I’ve heard your games of Capture the flag are a little more harsher… to what extent is that actually true?”

Y/N quietly laughed. “It’s Roman style, someone will probably lose an eye to be honest.” She said it in such a joking tone but there was a look in her eyes that alerted Luke she wasn’t joking.

—

Luke would definitely come to regret even thinking about joining this game of capture the flag. The teams weren’t organised by Cabins, instead each leader strategically chose their members months before the actual game to ensure a high chance of victory.

Luke ended up standing across from Y/N, dressed in golden armour and holding a sword that seemed to be a little too heavy. Sohan was with Luke, checking his arrows.

“They still allow you to use how and arrows?” Luke questioned, remembering how said weapon was banned from Half-Blood’s game of capture the flag because of an incident.

“What’s fun without a little arrow wound?” Sohan joked. Luke slowly turned his head, eyes wider than usual.

“Not being stabbed by an arrow seems more fun.” He muttered to himself.

He glanced at Y/N, who was carelessly swinging her long spear around. She met his gaze and paused for a second before lightly dragging her thumb over her throat with a patronising grin.

Luke gulped. “She’s gonna kill me.” He whispered.

“Oh, good! That means she likes you.” Sohan nudged Luke with a smile, “The harder she tries to kill you, the more she likes you.”

“That seems a little contradictory.” Luke replied, almost shaking.

“When the bell rings, and trust me you’ll hear it, just follow me. We’re paired together to hide and defend the flag. All you have to do is hide and jump out to stop the opponents. They’ll think it’s only me and then, bam! You come in.” Sohan explained the plan to Luke, who was listening intently so he wasn’t the one to lose an eye.

Sohan tightly gripped the flag in his grasp. “We have ten minutes to plant the flag somewhere. A second bell will ring and that means the game has started.”

Luke nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. A loud bell suddenly rang out through the clearing and Sohan immediately sprung into action. He sprinted off and Luke scrambled to follow him.

“This way!” Sohan exclaimed as he sharply turned to the left. Luke leaped over a log, landing heavily on the hard dirt. The forest should have felt familiar since Half-Blood also played surrounded by trees but this felt different. Luke had no idea where they were going until Sohan came to an abrupt stop.

“Here should be good.” He panted.

Luke looked around. They were surrounded by heavy vegetation and he was barely able to see past the thick tree leaves. Sohan lodged the flag between two stones and nodded in approval.

“The bell will be ringing soon. Hide over there.” Sohan ordered, pointing at a bush beside the flag. Luke sighed as he ducked behind the bush, the twigs below him scraping at his knees. “I hate this hiding place.” He muttered, “I feel like a Guinea pig.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” Sohan replied. “The bell should be ringing any second now. Remember to stay quiet.”

Luke silently rolled his eyes as he ducked lower to the floor in order to get comfortable and peek past the bush branches. In the distance, he could hear the sound of the second bell ringing followed by loud shouts varying in volume. Some kids at Half-Blood, mainly the Ares kids, loved battle cries but not to that extent.

Luke waited ten minutes and when nothing happened, he resorted to lying on his back. Twenty minutes passed and there was still no sign of any other demigods. Luke had resorted to seeing how many leaves he could count before he heard a quiet rustle. He paused, waiting.

Everything was still before Luke heard weapons clash loudly together. He peered above the bush, instantly recognising Y/N past her bronze helmet. There was another kid reaching for the flag while Sohan was struggling with Y/N.

Luke quickly reached for his sword, flinging it at the Roman demigod before he could grasp the flag. The handle hit him in the face, temporarily stunning him. Luke was swift to jump out and grab his sword, holding it in front of him.

“Sorry ‘bout that, man.” Luke uttered. He swung his blade at the demigod boy, who he later realized was named Nikolai because of the inscription in his helmet.

Nikolai counterattacked Luke, effortlessly pushing the Greek brunette back. Luke was reluctant to injure a kid he barely knew but Sohan continuously shouting “hit him” was getting annoying.

Luke grabbed Nikolai by the shoulders, shoving him away from the flag. Sohan was battling against Y/N, who had a spear similar to Clarisse’s. Compared to her spear, Sohan’s bow and arrows and backup dagger wouldn’t be of much use.

Nikolai swung his sword at Luke but every time, Luke managed to block the hits. Luke pushed Nikolai’s sword away, but he underestimated his strength and the sword went flying.

Both Nikolai and Luke turned their heads to stare at the weapon lying on the floor.

“Hit him!” Sohan exclaimed through gritted teeth as he held Y/N back by her arm.

Luke, on instinct, punched Nikolai’s shoulder and scrambled for his sword. He leaned over to grasp it but he was unexpectedly kicked from behind.

Y/N, who Sohan should have been holding back, had knocked the son of Mercury to the ground and made an instant beeline for Luke.

“Don’t chop my head off!” Luke yelled as he rolled to the left to avoid Y/N’s sword as she forcefully swung it down. Luke kicked her ankles, causing her to sway.

Nikolai made another reach for the flag but Sohan managed to shoot an arrow his way, luckily not hitting the boy but it served as a warning.

“You said this was an easy job!” Luke yelled at Sohan as Y/N made another attempt to hit Luke. He tried to strike her ankles again but the same trick wouldn’t fool the praetor twice. She effortlessly pulled him up and slammed his back against a tree, holding a smaller knife to his throat.

“I am literally so scared right now.” Luke wheezed as he wiggled around in Y/N’s surprisingly strong grip. Sohan shot another arrow, this time at Y/N. It barely missed her head. While she was shocked for a second, Luke grabbed her by both shoulders and pushed her back.

“We got a runner!” Another voice suddenly shouted. A member of Y/N’s team, sprinted into the area, followed by two boys from Luke and Sohan’s group.

Sohan scrambled to stop the runner aiming for the flag but Nikolai knocked him back to the ground. Luke made the executive decision to pursue the runner. There wasn’t much Luke could do with his sword so he tossed it aside and did the only other thing he could think of; he tackled the other demigod.

Y/N let out a laugh as the two boys toppled down a hill, each trying to let the other take the brute of the floor. Luke groaned as he spat out a mouthful of daisies. His helmet had fallen off somewhere and he had no energy to actively search for it.

The bell rung once more and the demigod beside Luke sighed as he removed his helmet, running a hand through his messy blond hair.

“You’re the Greek kid, right?” He questioned. “I’m Kato.”

“Yeah. Luke, nice to meet you.”

“Do you also feel like you’ve got internal bleeding?” Kato grumbled as the two boys made no effort to sit up, instead choosing to just lie on the floor among the flowers.

“Oh, definitely.” Luke replied, “Think I might be sick later.”

—

“You both have bruised ribs. Honestly, it could have been worse. Drinking this will help.” An Apollo kid handed Kato and Luke a foul smelling drink.

“It’s best to get it over and down with.” Kato whispered, “Cheers.”

“Not sure if I actually want to consume this.” Luke wrinkled up his nose but tilted his head back away.

The pair gulped down the liquid as fast as they could, both gagging once they had finished.

“Wow, you guys are almost like twins. If Kato had brown hair, you guys might actually sell it.”

Kato and Luke exchanged a look before they both grinned.

“I didn’t know there was temporary hair dye.” Kato said as he stared down at the box. Y/N sighed, placing her hands on her hips.

“Do you want it or not? Coloured hair spray might be easier for you.”

“Yeah, give me that.” Kato threw the box of temporary dye aside. Luke easily caught it, handing it to Y/N.

“Thanks.” She smiled before looking through a trunk of hair supplies. “Good game out there, Castellan. Are you always that quick thinking on your feet?”

Luke shrugged as he stood beside Y/N, leaning on the bunk bed behind him. “I guess? Most of the time we have to think quickly at Half-Blood. We don’t exactly have strategies for every little thing.”

Y/N and Kato stared at Luke in mild surprise. Y/N let out a quiet huff, “I guess you Greeks are disorganised like Lupa said.”

“She said what?” Luke stood up straight. “We aren’t that disorganised. We still have tactics.”

“Yeah, and they kind of, forgive my language here, suck.”

“At least my whole existence isn’t based on a brother who killed his sibling because of anger issues.” Luke muttered loud enough for Y/N to hear.

“You are so dead, Castellan.” Y/N retorted, leaning forward.

“I don’t really want to use the same threat as you because that’s boring. But I will kick your ankle again.” Luke replied.

Kato cleared his throat. “Don’t mean to interrupt whatever… lover argument you have going on but how does this spray work?”

“The cap’s still on. You gotta take it off first.” Y/N exasperatedly sighed.

“Oh, yeah, got it. Go back to your lovers quarrel.”

Y/N picked up an empty box of hair dye, tossing it at Kato. “There is no lovers quarrel!” She exclaimed.

“Really? Bc I felt something.” Luke teasingly piped up from behind her.

“I hope you choke.” Y/N mumbled, sending Luke a warning glare. “Maybe I should’ve cut off your arm. Would’ve taught you a reason.”

“I’ll just take my shirt off because like you said, no one can resist me.” Luke grinned as they bantered back and forth.

“Don’t rely on your looks to escape me, Castellan. Next time we play capture the flag, I’m kicking you down another hill no matter whose team you’re in.” There was a knock on the door and a rough-looking teenager peeked his head inside.

His body was covered in cuts, grazes, and purple bruises. He had a slit in his left eyebrow and an earring dangling from his right ear. When he turned to Y/N and said something in Latin, Luke noticed a shiny piercing on his tongue.

“Castellan, right?” The boy asked, pointing at Luke. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jae, the other praetor.” Jae stepped forward and reached for Luke’s hand, firmly shaking it.

“Nice to meet you.” Luke greeted him.

“I see you’ve already found yourself acquainted with the devil reincarnated.” Jae slyly grinned at Y/N, who could do nothing but huff and cross her arms over her chest in annoyance. “I’ve got to borrow Praetor Y/N for a second, hope you boys don’t mind.”

Y/N sighed as she followed Jae out the door. “This couldn’t have waited?” She asked.

“I was reluctant to interfere. You and the Castellan boy seemed quite close.” Jae replied with a shrug.

“I will literally feed you to the monsters if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“She likes you.” Kato uttered once Y/N was out of ear range.

“How can you tell?” Luke arched an eyebrow as he sat down on a nearby chair.

“She never argues with anyone. Not like that at least. When she argues, you have to listen because there’s no choice. That was more like… bickering used as an excuse to talk to you.” Kato said as he finally put down the can of hair spray. “Yo, we kind of do look alike. That’s freaky.”

Luke ignored Kato’s last point. “How do you know she doesn’t bicker?”

“Praetor Y/N is a straight to the point type of girl. You’ll know when she doesn’t like something. If she was really arguing with you, she would’ve had you shut up within your first two words.” Kato laughed, “She made me shut up once by shoving the words down my throat… literally. She wrote my words on a piece of paper and made me eat it.”

Kato paused, shivering as he remembered the chilling moment. “Anyway, Centurion Sohan, me, and a couple of other guys are going to the lake for a swim. You wanna join?”

“Yeah, sure, why not. I’ll act as eye candy like Y/N described me.” Luke sarcastically said, making Kato chuckle.

“Trust me, the girls will love you.” Kato only reassured Y/N’s point.

There were already a few smaller groups at the lake when Luke and the others arrived. As Luke combed a hand through his hair, he noticed a few girls looking his way and giggling. Kato nudged him.

“See? Told you they’d love you.”

Luke simply nodded. He lifted his shirt to pull it off but unexpectedly saw Y/N not too far away, locked in what seemed to be a serious conversation with Jae. Her eyebrows were tensely furrowed before her gaze suddenly switched to Luke.

He almost jumped at how fast her eyes moved. He quickly pulled his shirt off, giving Y/N a small wave. She slightly raised her eyebrows but never looked away. Slowly, she waved back.

Jae finished speaking and Y/N nodded, pointing to her right and uttering a few more words before they split ways.

“Wow, you two really do look like twins.” Y/N said as she looked at Luke and Kato. “You sure you don’t share a mother?”

“You out here for a swim too?” Luke questioned, squinting under the bright sun.

“No. I came here to check out the guys and pick my next murder victim.”

“How charming. And I thought what we had was special when you threatened to roll me down a hill again.”

“I’m saving you for last, Castellan. When the police find my victims, I’ll ask you to hide me then I’ll stab you in the back.”

“You know what I’m craving right now?” Luke switched the topic, “A pina colada.”

Y/N stared at Luke for a minute before furrowing her eyebrows. “Is that… some sort of drink?”

She heard Luke dramatically gasp. “You’ve never tried one?! Lucky for you, I’m a master at making cocktails. Just sit here, look pretty, and choose your next target. I’ll be right back.”

That was how Y/N found herself hanging around Luke almost every day, trying different cocktail mixtures he made while sitting under a large umbrella to avoid the heat.

“Why’d you put so much vodka in this one?” Y/N questioned, frowning, “It’s all I can taste.”

“My hand slipped.” Luke shrugged. He was lying on a towel beside Y/N, taking advantage of the sun to gain that perfect summer tan, as he liked to call it. “How come you never join your friends in the water?” He questioned, glancing over at Jae and a few other campers who were beckoning Y/N over.

“I don’t like water.” She covered her eyes with her shaded sunglasses, ignoring her friends. “It messes up my hair.”

“I’ll go swimming then. I think my back is turning red now.” Luke stood up, stretching. Y/N gulped down the rest of her drink, carelessly throwing the cup to the side as she jumped to her feet.

“I’ll come if you’re going.” She announced.

“Why the sudden change in attitude?” Luke teased, nudging her.

“I will force your head under water and let you drown.” Y/N deadpanned, causing Luke to take a small step back. Luke reached for his water bottle and took a large sip while Y/N peeled her shirt off. Luke’s eyes flickered to her for a second before his cheeks turned red and he spat out a mouthful of water.

Y/N looked at him weirdly, a judging glint in her eyes. “You good?” She asked.

“Yeah… fine.” Luke choked out.

Y/N didn’t believe him. She looked down at her bikini with bows and ruffles before raising an eyebrow. “Are you staring at my boobs?” She accused him.

“No! Are you staring at my abs?!” Luke tried to change the conversation but his attempt backfired.

“Yes. You’ve got nice abs.” Y/N shamelessly admitted like a true Roman, never scared to state the obvious.

“Well, in that case, you’ve got nice boobs.” Luke wanted to punch himself as soon as he said that.

“It doesn’t sound right when you say that to a girl.” Y/N scrunched up her face which only made Luke’s desire to be swallowed by the ground stronger.

“I realised that.”

“Praetor! Luke! Are you gonna keep chatting or finally get in the water?!” Sohan yelled from his position on a rock in the water.

“My makeup’s gonna get all ruined.” Y/N huffed but still dipped a leg into the lake. “It’s cold.”

“Lake’s are usually cold.” Luke retorted, not hesitating to jump into the deep end of the lake. Water splashed everywhere and Y/N shielded her face from the droplets.

“Watch it!” She yelled out a warning at Luke as he resurfaced, grinning.

“Oops.” He sarcastically apologised.

Y/N sat down at the shore’s edge, soaking her legs in the lake. “I’m good here.” She said, kicking her legs.

“You sure? The water isn’t that cold once you get used to it.” Luke swam closer to her and heaved himself up onto the warm rock.

Y/N kicked the water again, nodding. “Yeah… I’ll ruin my hair and makeup if I get in.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear but it slipped out again, much to her annoyance.

She frowned, reaching for it again, but Luke beat her to it. “You’re pretty without makeup.” He said as he securely tucked the strand away.

Y/N glanced at the boy beside her, suddenly feeling very small. Luke made her feel vulnerable, not necessarily in a bad way. His deep brown eyes made her want to pour out every secret.

Like how she secretly hated an Apollo boy because he kept beating her to the last piece of cake.

Or how she cheated on every English paper in school to raise her GPA because she simply couldn’t read properly.

Or perhaps about how she was afraid of love, despite being the daughter of Venus herself. That fear always made Y/N feel a little stupid.

Or… how she couldn’t swim and refused to swim because she almost drowned once while her so-called friends laughed at her.

“Castell- Luke…” She quickly corrected herself, realising how accustomed she had become to Luke’s presence. “I can’t swim.” She blurted out. “My hair and makeup don’t matter… I just can’t swim. And I don’t want to swim.”

Luke carelessly shrugged and for a second, Y/N was scared he’d dismiss her fear.

“I’ll stay here with you then.” He said instead. “I’ll keep you company.”

“You can swim if you want to.” Y/N replied, fidgeting with her hands. Her heart leaped in her chest and her stomach felt queasy. Was this a crush?

“Nah. I like it here better.” Luke shifted closer to Y/N, slowly slinging an arm around her shoulder. He was expecting her to immediately shove him away but she remained still. Her back was rigidly straight until she hesitatingly relaxed.

“Thank you.” She said as the sun began to set, hues of orange, yellow, and blue painting the sky and reflecting into the lake. Y/N was surrounded by laughing demigods and legacies but she could only focus on Luke; how his hair looked perfect despite being damp, how his skin glistened in the sun, and how his arm was wrapped tightly around her as if he was protecting her from something.

For once, she felt safe. There was no quest she was required to complete, no glory to seek for the Legion, and no heavy exceptions weighing her down.

It was just her and Luke sitting beside each other in comfortable silence.

—

“Are you sure you have to go?” Sohan asked as he tightly clung to Luke, fully prepared to force the son of Hermes to stay.

“My little sister’s waiting for me.” Luke said as he hugged Sohan back, firmly patting his shoulder. Annabeth. Luke had told Y/N about his sister; they weren’t related by blood but she was his found family.

“Make sure to visit and right.” Jae uttered as he struggled to pull Sohan away from Luke. Y/N stood silently next to Jae, holding Luke’s bag.

“Have a safe trip.” She told him, which wasn’t the goodbye Luke had been expecting. He envisioned a small smile, maybe a hug if Y/N was in a good mood.

“Thanks. Good luck with your praetorian duties.” Luke replied, nodding his head.

“You ready to go?” Kato piped up, throwing the car keys in the air and effortlessly catching them.

“Yeah… I guess.” Luke muttered, stealing another glance at Y/N.

‘KISS HER!’ His mind screamed at him. This would be his last opportunity to address the feelings he had caught for Venus’ favourite daughter.

Jae and Sohan looked at each other then at Y/N, who seemed to be restraining all emotions. They almost seemed like they were begging her to make a move on Luke before it was too late.

“Bye, Y/N.” Luke stuck out his hand and Y/N didn’t hesitate to grab it.

“Good bye, Castellan. Camp Jupiter will miss you.”

Luke knew Y/N was too prideful to say ‘I’ll miss you’. This was her alternative.

Luke and Y/N stared at each other with their hands still gripping the other before they finally halted the awkward exchange.

Luke followed Kato towards the car, somewhat hoping Y/N would chase after him. She didn’t.

Y/N watched with her head held high to conceal her frown as Luke walked away, waiting for the moment he’d turn around and run back. He never did. He passed the stone arch that acted as entrance to Camp Jupiter, most likely to never return and if he ever did, it’d be in a few long years.

—

A year had passed since Luke’s departure from the Roman Demigod camp. He was pleased to be back at Half-Blood, but there was someone who was missing. As expected, some Aphrodite girls showed strong interest in Luke, but he never paid them attention.

They were beautiful, but Luke missed the girl who would threaten to throw him to the wolves if he even looked at her. He found her guarded personality charming.

“Luke, Chiron needs you to show one of the exchange campers from Jupiter around.” Chris, Luke’s brother, said. “She’s the last one.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Luke spent months hoping Y/N would show up randomly one day but after three, he gave up. He had heard from Sohan’s regularly written letters, which often featured Jae and Kato too, that Y/N was busier than ever as a praetor. She had doubled her work load, working until she quite literally passed out. Sohan expressed his concerns but didn’t quite know what was wrong.

“She’s waiting in the strawberry field.” Chris told Luke, pointing him in the right direction.

Luke took his sweet time in walking towards the field, his hands shoved into his pockets. There was a figure standing amongst the strawberries, admiring the various flowers and berries.

“Late as usual, Castellan. How Greek of you.”

Luke’s eyes lit up at the sight of the girl in front of him. He cracked a large grin. “What can I say, Y/N? I’m a true Greek demigod.”

FIN.

A/N: while writing this, I was randomly reminded of an old classic book I read where the main characters are clearly in love but know they’ll never see each other again after they split ways. And now I’m sad.

PJO TAG LIST (will update later, I’m tired 😴): @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @jennapancake @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @be-bap @kamiliora @2hiigh2cry @gisellesprettylies @ur-lacol-dsylexic @lilacspider @lukecastellandefender

[clairdelunelove]

badges of honor

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (sticker drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, protective!ghost

synopsis: ghost doesn't understand the appeal of receiving stickers, a tangible reward, after the completion of successful missions. never thought it was necessary for his efforts. however, his mindset changes when he finds out you're the one handing them out–

a.n. just a silly lil blurb that floated around in my mind for some time! decided I'd write it and I'm thinking about writing something similar for könig too! hope you're all well! and if you wish to show more support here's my kofi! <3

-

-

-

holding onto the belief that ghost would stubbornly swallow his pride and allow you to decorate him in cutesy unnecessary stickers.

-

it starts with price’s recommendation of implementing a routine of handing out stickers after successful missions. he insists it’s a great way to dial into intrinsic motivation. to keep the task force motivated to dedicate their best into every operation. a way to recognize positive behavior. a byproduct of hoping for the most favorable outcome in war where the only images are bloodshed, conflict, and hostility. it’s a stark difference. “who knows,” price’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug as he addresses the fierce group settled around him, “it might just help you lads.” it’s a harmless and cost-efficient idea to justify the boxes of tangible reinforcements that are shipped to the base. literal cartons of sticker books that range from the traditional ‘great work!’ to ‘prized soldier!’ and the notion seems childish (disguised to be more of a scheme, in all honesty). that is, until the pieces of sticky, illustrated adhesives start working– boosting the soldiers’ determination for the taste of victory– because you’re the one handing out the affordable versions of chest candy. they adore saccharine treats. and over time, so does ghost. 

ghost who initially loathes the new process that price endorses. he’s good at his job. knows he’s an expert in clandestine tradecraft. doesn’t need a miniature label tapped on his chest to recognize that no one does a better service in infiltrations or sabotages in risky environments than he does. he’s in and out like a gust of wind. well, more similar to a grim reaper that takes and punishes whoever he deems fit. a brutish force not to be reckoned with. and he reasons that this little sticker ceremony ultimately wastes time. precious alone time that ghost exploits to catch up on some well-deserved rest or exercise. because training after an intense mission totally makes sense to the lieutenant. yet, he’ll doggedly line up with the rest of the task force and await getting crowned with the bane of his existence. doesn’t wish to stir the pot with price and sit through being lectured. so he stays. and he’s a bit taken aback when he catches a glimpse of you handing out the stickers; a beaming smile on your lips while you press an overly exaggerated thumbs-up design onto the front of a soldier’s vest. 

ghost who rasps, “I’ll pass,” before your fingers can pin the sticker onto him. unaware that his voice would come out grainy from the weeklong mission and, involuntarily, blunt. brash. the complete opposite of how he wished to sound towards you. notices the surprise in your eyes due to the acidity of his voice and how you instinctively shrink from him. he shifts, straight away, and hastily tries to take back his tone of voice. to right his wrongs. to atone for his mistake. however, your nervous movement is swiftly replaced with your usual upbeat nature as you plaster on a grin and dramatically bring the back of your hand to your forehead to mimic a fall, “woe is me.” you exhale pointedly while mentioning, “whatever shall I do with all these stickers then?” and ghost understands that it’s so typical of you to hide your hurt with witticism. you’re too considerate. too bright. a touch of color to his monochrome soul. venturing a step closer to you, he lightly scoffs at your melodramatic behavior and remarks, “woe is most definitely not you. now get up, pup.” and before you can comprehend, his gloved hand wraps around your wrist to gently pry it away from your face. “changed my mind,” he murmurs while indicating to the book of stickers that you casted aside, “pick one f’ me, will ya.” 

ghost who refuses to comment on your shaky fingers to save you from embarrassment. it’s endearing that despite the layers of heavy clothing, you’re still hesitant to touch any part of him. “you’re all set,” you quickly chirp before stepping back to admire your handiwork. or so you tell yourself that excuse. in reality, you’re teetering on the edge of becoming distracted by the heat that he radiates. and he savors how your gaze dances across his masked face but evades his intense eyes. the most profound part of him that reduces you to stumbling on your words like a drunk. intoxicated by him. it’s like he’s drinking you in and allowing himself a selfish taste of your beauty. a thought that causes you to heavily gulp. to take your mind off of the blatant yearning, you teasingly raise the sticker book up to him, “how about I add another one? this one has glitter—” “that’ll do,” ghost interjects and turns to leave. his immediate answer and retreat brings about a genuine laugh from your lips. it’s music to his ears. wagering a glance to his chest, he notes the sticker you chose for him. cursive letters twisting into ‘you’re a star!’ followed by a smiling gold star draws his attention. you don’t spot it but as he leaves, his gloved fingers reach up to smooth the sticker over his vest. to pat it down so it stays a while longer. 

ghost who attempts to convince himself that his disinterest toward the small slips of adhesive paper is still the truth. they’re just for show, right? no one really pays attention to how some of the stickers varied in size. they’re all mature adults. and it was completely unrelated how there’s regular bickering amongst various recruits that compared their hard-earned rewards. doesn’t admit that his chest visibly swells with pride whenever the other soldiers point out that ghost always receives the biggest sticker. purposefully taunts them by stating, “get better then, yeah?” he also fails to acknowledge that you’ve coerced and conditioned him to accept them like a pavlov experiment. after all, your unwillingness to comment on how he noticeably leans over so you can put stickers wherever you wished must mean that it doesn’t happen. and in the scenario where it could perhaps occur, you shouldn’t blame him because ghost was certain no one else had the willpower to brush you away. you with gentle fingers and an angelic voice. singing him a siren song whenever you mutter, “for your excellent work, lieutenant,” as you smooth on another ridiculous sticker. his heart stutters in his chest when he feels how your hand tentatively flattens against his chest. the broad muscle causing you to hum appreciatively before gracing him with a coy smile. an interaction that replays in his mind whenever he’s awake and follows him to sleep. 

ghost who clenches his fist so tightly that his blunt nails bite into his own palm when he overhears a lowly recruit outrightly insult the implemented routine. hears them utter (when you’re out of earshot of course because goodness forbid that they have courage) ‘bullshit’ and how you were ‘off your rocker for putting up with this waste of time.’ and ghost isn’t usually responsive in situations like this. he’s got a covert operation to focus on in about 15 minutes. a level-headed person was far more intimidating and efficient during classified matters. now, however, his heavy boots thud against the floorboards when he stalks toward the recruit. an abrupt wave of darkness and unabridged horror before the recruit is face-to-face with ghost. “problem?” he asks challenges, voice dead and devoid of sympathy. his head slowly tilts and the action creates a dismal shadow over the eye sockets of his mask. ominous and menacing. everything that ghost is infamous for. knows he’s won when the recruit’s apology is nasally and on the verge of crying but their reaction isn’t his personal interest. what he does undertake as his responsibility, though, is when he’s called into price’s office for a debrief. he pockets some of the miscellaneous sticker books that sit on the superior’s desk. wordlessly hands them to you when you’re both briefly passing each other in the hallway. and while you profusely thank him for the additional sets (vaguely wondering what caused the change in his behavior), you playfully press a sticker above the lower portion of his mask– right where his lips are. somewhere new. you leave him rooted to the spot, the sweet gesture sending him into a stupor, and call over your shoulder, “compensation for the stickers!” he watches as you hurriedly dart away before he can react but there’s no need. he unabashedly smuggles more stickers from price’s office in hopes of reaping a similar repayment again.

ghost who reasons that stickers aren’t that bad if you’re the one giving them out. he organizes himself with the rest of the force, a brooding figure that patiently waits in the back of the line. favors being the last one because you’re able to utter more than a few words of encouragement to him. if he’s lucky then you converse and excitedly share your day with him– like you currently are. “want me all to yourself, do you?” you heartily tease him upon noticing that he’s consistently been last in line for the third time in a row. he shifts on his feet, makes a show of looking around at his fellow team members that are filtering out of the room, and deliberately concedes, “‘suppose so.” his frank answer is followed by a flustered roll of your eyes but it’s the genuineness that causes your heart to flip. you force yourself to concentrate on the task at hand– giving out prizes. unsteady fingers lifting at the sticker page, you skim the options before spotting a perfect one. your teeth catch the edge of your bottom lip as you can’t help but question, “you say that to everyone, simon?” his real name on your glossy lips. a prayer that he desires to hear being chanted over and over as he holds you in his arms. the gaze he wraps you in is burning. tempting. exhilarating. you push yourself up on your toes to reach out and place a sticker on his cheek. on the hard shell of his skull mask that you’ve learned will ultimately end in halfhearted chiding because the adhesive is difficult to remove off of it. ghost catches a glimpse of the sticker that you’ve picked. the bolded words of ‘#1 lieutenant’ flashes at him. and the sticker is like a brand you’ve adorned him in. an embellishment that he proudly displays and wears because it’s what you’ve given him. he hums, dark and inquiring, when he leans to graze his masked lips against your inner wrist. his eyes are heady and half-lidded. clouded with a violent craving for you– always you. visibly strains to make contact with your exposed skin by tilting his head to place another chaste kiss on your hand while murmuring, “just to the sweet ‘n pretty ones that I fancy.” 

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Dark King Miguel and the gentle princess. The original one except Miguel is the king you dread to marry. Even more so when you meet him. He's a hulking man adorned with obsidian armor laced with gold. Cold piercing red eyes. If you weren't terrified, you would have seen how handsome he was, and that his gaze was filled with intrigue rather than hatred.

He takes your hand in armored claws, and kisses it. Now you blush.

You were to spend a good chunk of time in the palace with him until the day of the wedding. At first it's a nightmare because you are with someone who's slaughtered thousands of men, but he's gentle with you. Not exactly kind. But gentle.

Oh oh, imagine she took a little diary with her. She records her time in his lands, and he finds it while snooping in her room (checking for any weapons and such). He reads it and finds quite a bit about her. He rolls his eyes at the passage of her describing her dream man, but he is very intrigued about her wanting a bunch of children. He can give that to her, he wants many heirs too 🤭

Im such a sucker for these sort of tropes :'D ❤️❤️❤️ (Had to write this twice cause Tumblr erased the draft midway 😭😭)

You fretted in your chambers.

Despite the kingdom's overall economy and exterior political relations were thriving, the feeling of wariness set heavyly on your chest. The Queen and King had forbidden your stay at the most recent council's meeting, and when you demanded an explanation, you were met with nothing but silence and pained looks.

"Your Majesty! Come back here! You can't go inside!"

"They are hiding something from me, Lucille. I know it!"

"But you just can't interrupt!" Your maid and friend had been trying to prevent to get in the throne room. She caught your arm and looked solemn for a moment.

"You... You too?"

She shook her head and sighed, pulling you to a more private spot.

"You must be very quiet, ok?" Lucille guided you through a secret little passageway you didn't know the castle had. Hidden in plain sight that took you exactly where you wanted, a small hole on the wall enough for you too take a glimpse of the room.

Sparse, war table on a side, some guards you couldn't recognize stood next to a chair, partially revealing who sat in it. You could only get a small reveal of his arms. Dark skinned, strong arms clad in obsidian and golden that ended in a claw like gauntlet.

"Your Majesty" Your dad spoke, a slight tremor in his voice, "I think we are rushing into conclusions, ser. You'll see our men-"

"I don't want your men, neither your women. My army is more than enough and if I wished, your kingdom would be wiped out at my command."

You father stressed kn his chair as your mother just watched with keen eyes the display of power.

"We might not be a large kingdom, your majesty-"

"You're right, ser. You're like a tiny and annoying stone that got in my greaves, but I have had enough bloodshed for now"

"T-Then what is it you want, your majesty?"

You frowned at the armored man's attitude as dread crept up your bones. His gauntlet curled on his head, pondering as he slicked his soft, wavy and dark locks back.

"Surprise me, your majesty" He sneered the two last words and you swallowed.

"I will give you the most precious thing I possess, your highness." Your mother spoke confidently as her eyes were casted at the man.

"Being?"

"My daughter. The princess."

Lucille gasped and you quickly covered her mouth. His ears perked at the sound and tensed, but ignored it since he just chuckled.

"I came here in order for you to understand why I need the West passage of your borders open, not to get married." He stood and it was yout time to gasp at the size of him. He looked gigantic, your father had to crane his head up to meet his eyes.

"Think about it, your highness." Your mother pressed as she also stood.

"We can't open the passage due to political differences between our Kingdom and Erunia. It's closing wasn't to meddle in your affairs, but more like a preventive solution in our safety, in case an invasion happened. The least of things we would want is another war against a powerful kingdom we know we have no chance against. "

The obsidian clad man seemed to pay attention to your mother's words

"Sure, our Kingdom is thriving again, and economy and politics seem promising, but you must also understand we have nothing much to offer you when we are still recovering from a war. We still mourn, and we are getting on our feet again."

Your throat tightened upon her mentioning mourn. Your brother, the prince had died in battle.

"And for me to offer you, this kingdom's most precious jewel... I'll leave it to your interpretation."

The man seemed to relax slightly. Political things weren't your strength but, you didn't have to be a genius to know that tension had been rising within the neighbor kingdoms. Yours was a small one that served as a bridge among the others. Without you, the rest would collapse bit by bit.

"I offer you protection, in exchange of your daughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes. They were using you like an object. The deal was sealed, and so was your fate.

------

You had refused to see your parents after that, your mother had explained that it was for the kingdom's best interest.

"But what about me? I know that is selfish to think this way but, this is not what I want."

"It's not about what you want, more like what must be done. Your duty as a princess is to see for the people's interest, my dear. Our wishes matter little when the men think it's funny to play war."

"But mother, how could I possibly marry someone like that? Arachne kingdom is ruthless! And so is it's ruler!"

"We had no choice, my dear. Your brother... Im sure your brother would have chosen to try and wage a war against him to keep our autonomy... There is enough bloodshed as it is for now." She cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

"Besides, he is not that bad. He was... civil and wise enough to hear us. And now, thanks to you we have his protection and a new chance of being the kingdom we used to be."

-----------

You were set to depart to Arachne's kingdom within two weeks, and you made sure to enjoy the last bits of your freedom in your home. The wedding was set within 3 months. Or so the dark scroll the mysterious man had sent, said.

And when that day arrived, your carriage departed between sobs, anguish and heartfelt goodbyes. You didn't like the feeling of being seen as a martyr, but it gave your people hope.

----

If you had to describe Arachne's beauty you'd settle for twisted. A contradiction of many types of beauty melded in a single space. The outskirts were full of thorns so thick you thought your carriage would be crushed before even reaching the castle, but the more your caravan approached, the sceneries changed into something less harrowing to a more utopic sort of settling.

Tall towers stood proud in the different cities, but one thing you couldn't help but notice were the elite guards. Mostly clad in a light armor, red and blue, a spider-skull like emblem on their chest. You weren't allowed to bring Lucille with you, a strange petition from this... Miguel King.

Miguel O'Hara. Ruler of Arachne. Commander of an elite force with abilities that surpassed the common guard forces. Many said it was his secret to get him where he was. Despite the rumors about the kingdom being desolated and hunger stricken, witnessing the opposite with your own eyes made your heart a little hopeful.

After all he had sent a small crew of four to guard you during the trip. A blonde girl with a left side of her head shaven, a tall dark young man with braids on each side of his head slicked back with a look that pierced your soul, Another black man with many perforations in his face, with the strangest hairdo you had seen in someone, and their commander. A tall, black slender woman with a red and obsidian armor. None of you talked during the trip. But the pierced face young man and the blonde girl offered you small, almost sympathetic smiles your way.

----

Your arrival at the castle was announced. Your four escorts guided you to the main hall and kneeled before the man you had only caught a minimal glimpse of. Red eyes regarded your form, clad in a emerald green with golden trims dress.

You could notice his eyes widening just slightly as you entering the room. And then he stood. Your breath was caught in your throat and just as your father, you had to crane your head up to meet his eyes. Captivating yet full of unspeakable things. But you were certain, hatred wasn't one of them, rather wonder. He stared at you with mild curiosity.

You revered before him.

"Princess (Name) of Theleria, at your service, my lord." Sweet and soft spoken. A stark contrast of his overall aura. He noticed the small tremor in your hands and chuckled.

"Welcome, Princesa." Despite his imposing and intimidating looks, his royal etiquette shone through.

"Make yourself at home" Or so it did it's best. He returned to his work. He wasn't much for words as you were escorted to your own chambers. You certainly were swooned by the place grandeur and the elite force you had heard so much.

"Your Majesty sends his apologies, he won't be able to meet you during dinner. Would you like to eat on your chambers, or in the dining hall?" The man wore another red and blue armor, you had noticed that only commanders wore a certain type of armor.

"In my room, ser. Thanks."

He nodded with a smile and left. Your room was enormous, easily mistaken for a whole wing. You had dinner in your room.

--------

"Where is she?"

"In her room. She preferred to eat inside."

"Hm." Miguel hummed as he spreaded some map before him. Peter looking at him.

"Want me to arrange a tea meeting with her?"

Miguel's nose scrunched and he shook his head.

"Make it a lunch. I don't like tea."

"I know, coffee guy. You think her parents will keep their word?"

"They better, if not, we'll wipe them."

"Wouldn't that be harrowing for your future bride?"

Miguel arched an eyebrow at him

"Merely political affairs."

"She's pretty"

"Hm and gentle. You know what happens to gentle people."

"They get an arranged marriage with a ruthless belicist of a king." Peter couldn't help but giggle at his mortified expression.

"One more-"

"And I'm out. I know, I know pal. Get some rest. Your eyebags are packing for vacation already" Peter smiled at his annoyed sigh, then left him be.

-----

The lunch never came, as you were stood up, again. You had expected much, after all it was an arranged marriage, of course the desire of knowing eachother just for pretense was only in your imagination. However you had noticed that his gaze lingered on you for more than he actually let on.

You had been sorted through the city, to meet it's people, and so far mostly looked happy? Children ran around a fountain, merchants exposed and sold their goods, art supplies and a small leathery notebook, caught your attention. The extense array of colors had you grinning and marveling at things you had never seen before. Charcoals, complete drawing kits, turpentine, canvas made out of the richest materials.

Arachne's people were kind, welcoming and it just made you wonder how such kind of people had a blood thirsty man for a king? Not that he intentionally waged wars just for fun and giggles. Peter watched you with a lazy smile, occasionally recommending things to try. He and the blonde girl, whose name happened to be Gwen, we're kind enough to answer each of your questions. You didn't dare to ask about Miguel. He seemed too busy to be disturbed and by the way his face was always set in a permanent frown, made you wonder how would things would be in your wedding day.

He was aloof, too buried in his own world of War and battles. You couldn't help but nod with an absentminded expression at Peter saying he won't be for dinner either.

"Of course." That's all you uttered before you returned to the castle and retreated to your room. Your chest constricting tightly.

-----------

"You know, getting any sort of contact with her wouldn't hurt you." Peter spoke as he was polishing his gauntlets.

Miguel remained silent, eyes too focused on the scroll before him.

"How was the trip?"

"She was like a kid in a candy store when we stopped in an art shop."

"Something she liked?" Peter smiled and scrubbed the wax away from the gauntlet

"Paintings and art supplies. She loved the cherry pie and couldn't stop marveling at how dreamlike the city looked"

"Hm. Her kingdom is... small. Nothing much to look around. Anyways, get her what she liked. "

"Beg your pardon?" Peter blinked at him

"Told you to get her what she liked."

"Of course. "

-----

The following days you were either holed up in your bedroom, or in the gardens making small talk with the servants. They seemed good and easygoing people, and it kept you from giving into the loneliness feeling that seemed to loom over your head with each passing day.

Sometimes you'd caught glimpses of him, a small group of elite soldiers tailing behind him in scary synchronization. Your eyes would meet for seconds, but he'd just look away and continue his work.

At this point you knew what the apologetic look on Peter or Gwen meant. He wasn't showing up.

"I'm sorry."

"Have I done something to... upset him this way? To the point of him maybe finding my company repulsive? "

Peter seized you with a frown.

"I know he is a busy man, wars don't wage on their own, I know much. But..." You shook your head and sighed, "Nevermind that. I'm just being pretentious. Bid you a good evening, ser Peter."

You bowed to him and left to your room. You had refused kindly your dinner.

---------

The next day a couple of guards entered your room as you were writing a letter for your parents. They saluted Peter and left.

"Your Majesty." He bowed and guided your to the medium sized wooden box.

"A gift from the king" Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks growing a bit warmer.

"Thank you, ser Peter." You smiled and rummaged through its contents, small squeal upon looking at the leathery notebook you had seen before. Peter left and you wasted no time into enjoying your gift.

Papers, watercolors, oil paints, colored waxes, painting brushes, paint remover, it felt like a dream. Your chest felt giddy at the idea that showed up in your mind.

-----

You gave Peter a small box with something you had done.

"Ser Peter?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Could you give this to the King?" You handed him a small velvet pouch. A small canvas in it.

"Do you think he would like it?"

"I'm sure he will, your majesty" Peter smiled.

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

Miguel took the pouch suspiciously, but his eyes widened at the small painting of himself with a small piece of scroll. A fancy and curvy scribblings on it

Thank you for your kindness, my lord.

Your penmanship impeccable, years of princess etiquette and training reflected on it. his lips curved a bit. You had gotten a good angle of him.

---------

He snuck in your room as you had gone to the city with Peter and Gwen again. This time, the man with the pierced face came along.

He didn't expect it to be so you. Paintings you did, dried on the window, drawings of things that caught your interest the most; cherries, birds, nature, and kids. Not that he didn't trust you, he just wanted to see with his own eyes what you had done so far with his gift.

He was glad to find you hadn't wasted it at all. The leathery book however made him to pick it up. It was your own diary. His hands carefully flipped the pages, reading into his contents.

A drawing of him with the caption "king of Arachne and quite aloof." the latter in small letters. He sighed and flipped the pages.

The bakery man is such a gentleman! And his pies so scrumptious.

He chuckled at the little pie drawing you did. He found more descriptions in what seemed to be this type of ideal man for you. He rolled his eyes. But the last lines of the pages caught his interest the most.

After losing my brother, it has come to my thinking. I would love a big family on my own.

You wanted kids. Heirs.

The steps outside alerted him as he tossed the diary back on your bed, and soon you'd enter through the door. The way your eyes looked at him with surprise made his heart to flutter softly. He had met rivals in the battlefield, all giving him a horrifying look, begged him to not come closer. But never he had someone to look at him like you were.

His eyes softened as he walked over you. Lips pressed together, you bowed.

"My lord."

He bowed too, adding more wide at your surprise.

"Enjoying your gift?".

"Very much. Thank you." His thank you gift came into mind.

"Did you... receive mines?"

"Of course."

"Did you like?"

Sweet face looked at him, expectantly. His pulse quickened.

"Si." He mumbled and you looked at him confused for a second.

"I'll take it as a yes?" You smiled.

So so sweet.

He relaxed.

"I'll see you in the dining hall."

"Oh?"

To your surprise he looked at you as he took your hand and kissed the back of your soft palm.

"Don't be late". He left.

[etheries1015]

Heheha!!! Could I request about being Lilia Vanrouge's personal "stress ball"? (Aka relieve of stress via sex)

And he just LOVES degrading you and doing stuff to make you cry and beg?

Imagine if he like, makes you go on his cock while he's lying down, and he just orders you to pleasure him because he's too lazy too (what a lie) and he will randomly snap his hips at random times up just to see your reaction. Then it would go to full-blown fucking after a while, but y'know, you get it

Fingering you while you're blindfolded and you have to guess which finger he's using. Get it wrong, and you don't get to cum! But he lies, and makes you beg to cum. Fucks you into tomorrow, ehe!

Etc, etc...

Then imagine that after the war, he realises that he actually likes you! Confession? Fluff? And more smut? Lol my brain is now empty, pls expand.

AHHHHHHHHHH I READ THIS A COUPLE TIMES OVER BECAUSE IT'S SO GOOD??? moister than an oyster over here eheheheheh I wrote something pretty similar about this concept of Lilia taking home a human sex toy, it is very short and not in-depth but you can take a read of it -> HERE hehehe

This might be a little dark, so warning you... 18+ below with some dark themes, a bit of non-con sprinkled in there. Rough fucking, Lilia a little mean :[ but he turns out pretty soft hearted after it all <3 mildly rushed, hopefully you still enjoy <3

But I LOVE to imagine the fact that it starts out as just a fling- a way for him to let out his anger and frustrations through pleasurable means. To see you cry out as he continues to thrust into you- the chains on your hands making your wrists become sore. You kind of liked this, though, being tied up and used as the Generals release. Something about it was enticing to you, despite the toll it sometimes takes upon your body.

He lets you free of course, but he loves the way you tighten around him and how much more warm you feel when you're chained up. There's times when he comes back utterly exhausted from the days endeavors, sitting down with his head tilted back and his hands covering his eyes, legs spreading. His gaze flickers down to your needy body, before he unzips his pants pulling out his cock. Soft at first, before he tells you to entertain him enough to get him hard.

If you weren't able to properly arouse him- you'd be punished for it either later or in that moment. Depends how "tired" he is.

"You understand I've had a long day, don't you, my little bat? You can't even get me hard all by yourself. I guess I have to do all of the work, don't I?" He grabs a fist full of your hair, pushing your head into the pillow before roughly grabbing you by the hips and pulling your ass to meet his pelvis. He grinds into you before tearing your pants, your feeble whines falling upon deaf ears as he pumps his cock a time or two before entering your hole painfully slow. Now you're whining for a different reason- Lilia chuckling at such neediness. All at once he suddenly snaps his hips against your ass, leaving marks upon the back of your neck almost drawing blood. Your punishment, he says.

Over time, you felt as if Lilia was getting "bored" of you. He was coming home later than usual and didn't call upon your services as often. But this was far from the truth. He started to find himself...interested in you. Once he walked in on you indulging in your hobby, simply existing. You were so beautiful in that moment in his eyes- the way you were focusing on your task, now allowing the outside world to interfere with your happiness in that moment. Being so used to seeing hatred and bloodshed, Lilia almost forgot what it was like to be happy. He began to realize that you were indeed more than just a toy to be used at his disposal, and with this slight change of heart, he began to treat you differently.

Coming closer to the end of the war, instead of keeping you up all night to have his way with you, it would be spent asking you questions and talking about what life would be like after the war. Your hopes and dreams, your hobbies, your future plans. He began to bring you heartier food and random trinkets he felt would suite your interests, even bringing you a peony at some point, not without a deep blush and quickly disappearing into thin air almost as if to avoid your reaction. He was becoming gentler, and you weren't sure how to feel about it. Was it a trap? Was he getting your hopes up to take you by surprise? After all, you spent so long thinking you had not much worth besides being used for his sick and twisted pleasure.

Once the war was officially declared as over, you were his first visit. The first on his mind in which he wanted to share this moment, running swiftly to the cottage in which you took shelter in. You were standing in front of the garden with a smile on your face as he came back to you.

During that period in which he began to treat you differently, you had also become much more light hearted and comfortable around the fae. Perhaps a mistake you often wondered about, yet you continued on with reckless abandon nonetheless. "Lilia! It's finally over! I'm so proud-" You were cut off as he ran to you and immediately smashed his lips against yours. He had never kissed you so gently yet so passionately at the same time- his hands snaking around your body and pulling you close, almost like...a hug. Your heart dropped for a moment- thinking perhaps this was the time in which he decided to ravage you. When the war was over and worries were off his mind- he could have his way with you once again. How twisted.

"...Shall I go get my chains?" He was startled at this, pulling away and looking you in the eyes with a hint of sadness and guilt. He shook his head, pressing his forehead against yours with his hands trembling as he cupped your cheeks, peering into your eyes.

"No more chains," He muttered, "I thought I made it clear that you are not worth your body to me anymore. I apologize if I did not make that clear, my little bat." The nickname he had chosen for you sounded much softer, much more kind, and in the most loving tone, unlike the degradation you were subjected to. You bit your bottom lip as if to hide a giddy smile, Lilia taking notice of this and pressing a kiss against your forehead. The war was over, and Lilia had finally confessed his feelings for you.

The first time you two have sex, he asked permission.

"Can we...I..." He was stuttering over his words. Lilia was so used to taking what he wanted from you that it felt almost weird and awkward to ask for permission- but he promised to do it right.

"I would like to make love with you."

This time, he was gentle. Taking his time with you. He gently lay your back against the bed and propped your legs over his shoulders, bending over to pepper kisses around your face and love marks on your chest. He asked you if you were alright, and was certain to prep you before entering. Your fingers interlocked with each other, his thrusts were short and intimate yet reached the deepest parts of you. This time, it was for your pleasure- not just his own for the taking. With every thrust and every whispered "I love you's" came with praise you were unfamiliar with. This wasn't the same general who simply used you to fill to the brim and bark orders at, this was someone who wanted you to feel the love with every stroke of his hips and dulcet words that left his once fiery mouth.

it's truly a wonder how much people can change.

( @mellowwillowy I think you'd enjoy this one, pookie)

[maybeiwasjustjade]

This is the last time I’m gonna talk about this topic, mostly because it’s hiatus era and I would like to be able to write fics without outrightly bashing s2 Alicent, but I do think it needs to be said.

There’s nothing defendable in what Alicent did when she gave up her entire family on a silver platter for Rhaenyra.

So many takes about how we—the ones who found that scene abominable and abhorrent—misread the scene, or purposefully misinterpreted just to hate her; that what Alicent did was a good thing because it would have spared her entire family if only she let Aegon die. Giving up Criston and Gwayne’s location to be slaughtered (in what is most likely going to be Butcher’s Ball) wasn’t the intention; Alicent would never do that to her family and this was the only way to ensure survival en yada yada yada.

Yet the only person she said anything about saving was Helaena and Jaehaera, the latter of which is still continued to be dehumanized by no one referring to her as anything but ‘child’. Alicent put no thought towards Daeron—her innocent 16 year old son, who has done nothing—who was now joining a war that she started by declaring his brother king. Daeron, who’s flying alongside the Hightower army, in a war that will not end just because the Dowager Queen decided enough was enough. Who might die, and actually will die, before he ever sees his family again.

And even if she believes Rhaenyra executing Aegon would end the war (which it won’t), what made s2 Alicent think that the deaths would stop there?

A son for a son? Rhaenyra didn’t even remember that Jaehaerys had already been murdered for Luke. What made Alicent think that Rhaenyra would spare fucking Aemond of all people??? Aemond, who killed Luke and Rhaenys, who’s now Prince Regent because Aegon’s heir is dead? Who rides Vhagar, and would rather burn the world down than cleave to Rhaenyra? Who’s committed the majority of the crimes that make up Team Green? No, Aemond will have to die.

Daeron will have to die.

Jaehaerys, had he lived, would have to die anyway.

Maelor if he existed too.

Otto, Criston, Gwayne—all dead by virtue of being active participants and commanders in TG.

The only way Rhaenyra can claim that throne and ensure she can hold it is by eliminating the rival claimants, down to the youngest son.

That was something s1 Alicent knew, had raised her son on the belief they would die if their sister ascended, before the writers butchered her to a million pieces and left a caricature in her place. The claims go down son to son before it reaches daughters, which meant killing Aegon wouldn’t stop Rhaenyra’s troubles. She’d have to go after his sons and brothers too before the throne is legally hers.

There is no version of this story, where war has already started and a king crowned, that would end with little bloodshed beyond the death of said king.

In a different world, an argument could be made to spare some of them. If Rhaenyra had ascended untouched, then perhaps deals could’ve been made. Aegon would still have to die, I’d imagine. Take the Black at minimum, with Jaehaerys following in his footsteps as an adult or perhaps the Citadel. As long as Aegon’s line persisted, there would always be a chance of rebellion happening once Jace becomes king. So that whole line would have to be removed.

Aemond and Daeron would be less dangerous, but there would be little chance they’d be spared. The Black for Aemond, because I can’t see him agreeing to be a Kingsguard. Daeron would go to the Citadel without question. Jaehaera would either be married into the main line via Aegon III like in canon, or Rhaenyra would arrange for her to marry Jace to solidify his claim. He’d have a better claim through Jaehaera than Baela, after all.

And even then, that was still best case scenario. Worst case they’re all executed to protect Jace. Because Rhaenyra’s reign might somehow be mediocre and peaceful (really she has no makings of a great queen), but Jace’s will be a landmine. Between two legitimate brothers and no sisters to marry them to and trueborn cousins and uncles, Jace’s ascension was going to be a massive clusterfuck that would make the Dance look like a play.

[laststandx3]

i'll be the first to say that Ulf is an idiot, but at the same time he's right. he treats the blacks the way they've never been treated before: as normal people. and it bothers them because they feel themselves above the smallfolks. that people should obey them and be silent when they speak because they're the authority. not only monarch but dragon riders. Ulf is there treating them like they're normal people and they HATE IT. but for how rude and out of place Ulf gets framed and shot when he asks for more wine/food he's the proof of how common people are always in service of the powerfuls' whims. if they didnt need him they wouldnt have him at their table. the court it's a place for people who respect manners and are never annoying. Because we saw how people in kings landing starving and dying how dares he asking for more good food at dinner? doesnt he know he's a guest and he better be grateful with what he has? Because Rhaenyra will make them knights even tho without them she wouldnt even be queen. "We'll be knights...Just like that" he says, because titles are freely given by the queen, yes just like that. How dares he be a little loud at dinner? HOW DARES HE ANSWER RHAENYRA's pretence at politness by keeping her accountable?

"A knight will comport himself with grace at the queen's table"

"Best make me a knight, then"

"You forget yourself...friend" Jace says, and in the background we see the knight of the queen's guard putting a hand on his sword, after his oath of protecting the innocents like Criston Cole reminded us a few minutes before.

you've done things we didnt even know was possible // Remember your place // this war will kill thousands // "will you stay here and make yourself easy? If you hinder our efforts through sloth or unreadiness, I'll see you hanged and your body fed to the dogs in the street" // we want to avoid bloodshed

Now, this is the pick-your-favourite-war-criminal show so i'm not saying the blacks are evil. i'm sure the greens will act just as them. I think it's interesting to see the parallels of in-story propaganda of the crown and their action, that Rhaenyra's waiting to fight was never about avoiding war, but because she knew she'd lost. when you cant stand even the idea of having smallfolk at your table or them dearing to treat you like one of them it was never about saving people's life.

[piracytheorist]

The Briar Siblings' Lies

It's very interesting that in the family of lies and secrets, the lies of the Briar siblings are included, and I'm pretty sure that will play a role whenever they find out about each other.

I expect Yor to be heartbroken and angry at Loid when she'll find out his lies, but I'd also expect her to be heartbroken and disappointed when she finds out how much Yuri lied to her.

Yor might have kept her own very dangerous secrets, but there are huge differences in their circumstances.

Yor took up her assassin gig when she was just a teenager, orphaned and with a little brother to take care of. Amidst the cold war brewing, there would be various criminal organizations looking for people to drag in, and a poor, desperate, kind, and almost supernaturally strong teenage girl was the perfect recruit for Garden.

Whether this is Garden's initiative or not, Yor has a strong determination to kill her targets as quickly and as painlessly as possible, along with avoiding unnecessary bloodshed. She has studied human anatomy specifically for this very reason, to be able to kill her victims with mercy. She's realistic about the situations she's in, but if talking things through is even a tiny bit possible, she'll give it a try.

Though her morals are slightly skewed for the average civilian - it's understandable to kill someone in self defense, but her main targets are situations where she plays judge, jury and executioner - she's still retained a lot of her humanity that allows her to be a kind person and a caring sister, mother and wife.

And then you have Yuri.

Yuri fell victim to a more sinister kind of indoctrination - extremism and bigotry. Having grown up in poverty caused by the war and the deaths of his parents, and having an overwhelming wish to protect his sister, he was the perfect target for Ostania's nationalistic propaganda.

But the tragic background leading up to this choice and the want to protect his family is where his similarities with Yor's case end.

Yuri wasn't left with no other choices. Yor was already supporting him financially when he started working for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and that was a job that he could stay at and be independent. He was older than Yor was when she became an assassin. I can assume that some underhanded methods were used to lead him into the duties of the SSS, but even so Yuri had more control of the situation, more choices to choose from, and more information at hand. It's directly opposite to Yor's circumstances.

Yuri tortures people. The SSS specifically want him, despite his young age and lack of experience, exactly because he won't hold anything back, even when it makes him feel conflicted.

The SSS may be taking advantage of the ease with which he tortures people, but it's still something Yuri willingly participates in - and again, considering the fame of the SSS among civilians, it's almost certain Yuri knew what he was getting into. He's giving up his own humanity, going down a path of "us vs. them" and while Yor plays judge on who gets to live, Yuri plays judge on who gets to be treated like a human being.

While two similarly dangerous and demanding professions, and (at least according to what Franky says) following the same government's orders, it's two highly different cases. I think Yuri will be mostly horrified to learn what Yor went through for his sake, but Yor will be very understandably heartbroken. Yuri could understand that Yor had no other choice, but Yor will know that Yuri had all the best choices right in front of him, and yet he chose this.

And it's why I believe this is the revelation that will hurt Yor more. She could explain Twilight's lies by the fact that they didn't know each other before, she could explain Anya's secrets by her young age and innocence, but there will be very little for Yuri to stand on - and the thing is, Yuri knows that. He knows that what he's chosen to become isn't what Yor raised him to be.

Currently he may be seeing himself as a martyr for his cause, that he needed to potentially break his sister's heart in order to protect her and "the country she lives in". He'd rather have her feeling heartbroken and betrayed by him than with her life and safety in danger. He'd rather her hate him than get hurt.

How will it hit him when he realizes she's already been doing the same for him, and has already been endangering her life for over a decade for not only his sake, but for the world in general too? When he realizes all the work he's been doing to protect her was in vain because she has been walking into danger herself all along?

It's a really interesting dynamic, because the revelation could either break them or make them. They both have a very heartwarming background together, they both love each other deeply, but it's a trial they'll both have to go through at some point.

(Anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[mswyrr]

One of the most important bits of dialogue in hotd is from Viserys in 1x01:

"The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us."

This is a man who bonded with Balerion, The Black Dread, the oldest dragon who had actually hatched in Old Valyria. This was the same dragon who flew Princess Aerea, a 12-year-old girl who bonded with him, back to Valyria against her will - sickening and killing her in the process (Fire & Blood, p 263). The little girl was away from her home at the time and probably feeling "I want to go home" but what Balerion did with that feeling killed her. His will was strong and his memory was *deep*.

Viserys only rode him one time, his inaugural flight, and then never again. IMO he experienced something bonding with that ancient beast that--in addition to studying the family's history and Valyrian lore--convinced him of the danger and fundamentally uncontrollable nature of dragons.

It is totally in keeping with canon events that Vhagar, in the current timeline the most ancient dragon alive--a dragon who drank deep of bloodshed and war with Visenya during the Conquest and *likes* war--translated Aemond's anger at Lucerys into murder of the boy and his small dragon. It is perfectly in keeping with what the show has been saying since episode 1.

An ancient, powerful and wilful dragon overcoming the will of its rider is *literally canon*. Princess Aerea must have been terrified during the whole, long flight to Valyria, and yet all her protests couldn't stop the dragon she'd bonded to.

I would also say that the Valyrians turned magical creatures, dragons, into weapons of warfare - that the dragons, in that sense, represent war. And the show is imo fundamentally antiwar - so here war is something you cannot control. GRRM has said the dragons are "nukes," which fits with this reading:

“Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only [Daenerys Targaryen, one of the series’ heroines] has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world,” Martin said in 2011. “But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I’m trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn’t mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn’t give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.” (source)

War and nukes - you cannot aim them only at the guilty, only at those you hate; you cannot prevent them from consuming the innocent as well. They a raging fire that consumes, that is all. And so, on that level, I just adore what they're doing and how it all fits together.

Aemond's domestic violence fits too - boys go to war thinking it will be honorable and manly and they'll protect "their women" but instead come home and hurt those very women. This thing burns and burns until it is exhausted, and it doesn't stay contained, not within you or outside you. "So it goes," to steal a phrase from antiwar writer Kurt Vonnegut.

The reason I keep coming back to my antiwar reading of the show is that things that people dismiss as "bad" or mock actually come together beautifully if you don't expect to war to be glorious and masterful and heroic. If you take the text seriously, in terms of what the dragons are metaphorically and what characters have outright said about their fundamentally uncontrollable nature. The lore supports what Vhagar did! That she could overcome a teenaged human's will with her century old bloodlust.

[allfortheslay25]

Pls loredump Abt ur new all for the war au

THE MOMENT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!!

everyone keep up it’s a doozy☝️

TW: mentions of abuse, torture, human trafficking, assault, murder, and lots of violence ⚠️

Some facts to keep in mind: Based on a draft for a novel I am working on, despite Milo being in this AU it is not 100% based on the Milo fic and has some changes to adhere to my novel, this novel is fantasy with light magic aspects and more godly mythology aspects (so not everyone can do magic cuz it’s more like witchcraft or godly blessings/curses), Neil is sort of intersex (or at least a version of it in this fantasy world) This also isn’t the full story, I left some stuff out because I don’t think I can get through every microscopic detail

The war started when Palmetto country was harassed for the last time. The Moriyamas had sent another army to pass through, use their resources, and bully their citizens. So Palmetto decided enough was enough and declared war. It was Kayleigh Day that accepted and decided to fight back (otherwise the Moriyamas would have closed their boarders and just ignored Palmetto)

David Wymack was in charge of the Palmetto army and fought a long and hard battle against Kayleigh and the Moriyamas defenses. Eventually, they’d met in person and become frenemies. Kayleigh was pregnant with Kevin and after many interactions and conversations with Wymack, decided the war wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want Kevin to grow up surrounded by meaningless bloodshed.

The Moriyamas did not stand for her decision. She started this, she has to end it. They tasked Tetsuji, her closest friend and family, to kill her. Tetsuji did so and raised Kevin as one of his own (alongside Riko) Kevin was told his mother was assassinated by the other side and her war is now his.

So Kevin trained hard, studied war and battle strategy, and worked to finish what his mother started.

Along his journey to becoming the ‘hero’ the Moriyama empire needed, he trained alongside Riko who he considered a brother, and was given two friends; Nathaniel, a young boy belonging to a war driven family aka the House of Slaughter who were well known battle strategists, and later Jean, a teen belonging to a wealthy family aka the House of Pride who were known to own lots of ships and traveling resources.

Nathaniel was always promised to Tetsuji’s unit since his birth. Riko let Kevin have him so Kevin could make a warrior out of him. And, after all, what’s Kevin’s is Riko’s and what’s Riko’s is always Riko’s.

Jean was betrothed to Kevin when he’d completed his first mission. Kevin assumed it’s what Jean wanted since the Moreau family has always been stuck up about letting other families marry into theirs. Their children are picky and if Jean was his fiancé, it had to mean Jean chose him. But Kevin was oblivious to how little Jean mattered to his family.

Nathaniel grew up with Kevin as a brother figure and a mentor. They trained and studied together and snuck away with Riko and Jean to get into childish shenanigans. But every weekend, Nathaniel would need to go home for Wesninski family training where they’d torture him. It was meant to train Nathaniel in interrogation, both how to survive one and how to conduct one. On his first day back, the Moriyamas would hurt him so that he wouldn’t forget to fear them too. Kevin was just as obvious to this and assumed Nathaniel was just very weak and prone to injury.

Eventually, when Nathaniel was 13, he and Kevin got into a fight about how distracted Nathaniel had been these days. He’d kept sneaking off to hang out with some secret friends of his or to follow Riko around. Kevin assumed Nathaniel was purposely getting sloppy and tore into him. Nathaniel had definitely been getting away with those other soldiers, content to let them treat him to food and (appropriate)entertainment in the town. It was an escape from Kevin’s pressure on him and Riko’s abuse behind closed doors (which is why Nathaniel was often following him around)

Kevin said some things he didn’t mean and told Nathaniel to be at the training grounds for night practice or else. Nathaniel left to hang out with the soldiers so he could vent about Kevin’s attitude. He meant to show up for night practice but the soldiers had held him hostage and assaulted him until morning.

Nathaniel had Wesninski training the next day and was gone for two days and an extra day with the Moriyamas abuse. Before he could attempt to go to Kevin, Riko had locked him in his room as punishment for not seeing Riko before he left. When he was finally let out before the next week started, Kevin had to be fuming.

Nathaniel went to Kevin to explain or make up for his absence but running into Riko reminded him that even if he reported it, the soldiers wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist. Nathaniel was property and if Riko didn’t care that they’d touched him, neither would any other Moriyama. So he showed up to the training grounds to lie about his whereabouts and it set Kevin off.

Kevin laid into him about his sloppiness and hit Nathaniel where it hurts. Kevin decided he had enough and Nathaniel wasn’t cut out to be a soldier so he quit as his mentor. Nathaniel of course had argued back and twisted the knife (metaphorical) into Kevin as a final word. They got into a bit of a tussle in which Kevin slice Nathaniel across the face as the final ‘we’re done’. Nathaniel left the castle grounds for some space and hid away for a week when he’d realized something was wrong. He was pregnant.

Knowing what the Moriyamas would do to him and how they would have decided to use this to their advantage, Nathaniel decided to leave the country. He changed his name and disguised himself (with the help of his mother) so he could go to Palmetto. Renee, a solider who helps people escape from the war and settle down into Palmetto, picked Neil out of the crowd instantly. They had to test him since being pregnant allows extra comforts and resources and many people try to fool them for it every day.

Neil was kept under constant watch by Andrew, a fellow soldier and friend of Renee’s. They talked every day, Neil never giving up any information and doing his best to take scraps of info about the war from Andrew. Eventually, Neil was far along enough for a doctor, Abby, to examine him and prove he was with child. The information wasn’t a blessing to Neil and only made him more bitter and hostile towards the Foxes (soldiers of palmetto tasked with guarding the farms that those with pregnancies stay at) Neil was allowed privacy but that was a favor from Andrew after Neil gave him a truth.

Neil had planned to use the comforts provided for pregnant ppl until Milo was born and he could just give him up and move on with his life. Andrew knew and because no one asked, he never told any of the other Foxes. Andrew would give Neil reports about the ongoing war, they’d play their truths game, and ofc Andrew would just do his duties as a guard.

When Milo was born, Neil decided to keep him, afraid to end up alone in this new country. While recovering, Neil could not stand the Foxes reckless and messy teamwork during battles and provided them with better plans and instructions while in bed rest. Dan was eager to let him since his plans worked and made sense. When Neil recovered, he enlisted and Dan took him under her wing to train him to replace her.

Word got out about this new strategist of there’s and how ruthless he was. Kevin had not been out on the field (he’s one of few people allowed to switch back and forth between battlefield fighting and hq strategy) but Riko had.

Riko one day stormed back into hq to rant about Nathaniel being the new strategist. Kevin didn’t believe it and didn’t think it was a funny joke since everyone had assumed Nathaniel was dead. Kevin instantly geared up to meet them on the battlefield and fought him, using Nathaniel’s old habits to get him on his back and unmask him. Kevin was relieved to find him alive but confused as to why he was fighting for palmetto.

Neil kicked Kevin’s ass and told him to go back home, deciding to retreat for now. Kevin followed his lead in his state of shock. A week later, he received a note from Nathaniel to meet him by a certain lake they used to hang around as kids. There, he explained that he was no longer Nathaniel and he would not be coming back to the Moriyamas. They argued, Kevin begged for him to come back, he told him that the Moriyamas killed Mary for hiding him and her last words were that Nathaniel died, Nathaniel did not mention his assault or his son but threw his abuse in Kevin’s face before they calmed down and talked about nothing. Sunrise came around and Neil left.

Kevin had hopes of convincing Neil back and confided in Jean about his struggles. He told Riko to forgive Neil and naively hoped they could all just go back to normal.

Flash forward to Tetsuji having a mission for Kevin. Kevin, eager to prove himself, agreed to kill an enemies son. Tetsuji tells him to slow down before explaining that it’s a baby and not only is it a child, it is Nathaniel’s one and only son. Kevin begs and tries to convince Tetsuji to see another way, that Milo won’t be a threat, that they can’t do this to family. Tetsuji reminds him that Nathaniel is a traitor and no longer family and that if he cannot complete this mission, someone else (possibly Riko) will. Tetsuji does this to Kevin because he wants to ensure that Kevin is a Moriyama and just like when Tetsuji was ordered to kill a sister (Kayleigh) Kevin must kill a nephew (Milo)

Kevin suits up and heads to the farm where Milo lives, sneaking in with the help of the Moriyamas and a token Neil had given him in case Kevin ever wanted to escape to Palmetto (it was a coin with a fox on it that he’d flash towards any guards at the boarders, and they’d let him in) At the farm, Kevin loses his resolve because of how much Milo just looks like Neil. Kevin had first met Neil when he was three years old at a Wesninski banquet, that’s when Riko had gifted Kevin with the honor of training him. Neil moved in with them when he was eight years old, and started his physical training at 10. Kevin couldn’t fathom killing Milo when all he saw was Neil’s infant face at that banquet.

Kevin instead kidnapped Milo and taken him back to the Moriyamas castle where he begged Riko to convince Tetsuji to let them keep him. Riko had agreed instantly with ulterior motives to raise his own Wesnisnki weapon. They tutored Milo in battle strategy and while Kevin was away on the battlefield, Riko would hurt Milo.

Neil had gone to torturing the Moriyamas ppl to find information about Milo’s possible whereabouts. It had gotten bad enough that the Moriyamas were willing to just toss him back to Neil or even kill him to get rid of the evidence. Riko had a dumbass plan to send an infants mutilated body back to Neil with a threat. Kevin actually believed it to be Milo and had a mental breakdown about the loss until Riko revealed it was all a trick. Kevin began to realize how much of a monster Riko actually was.

Meanwhile, Neil stopped torturing the Moriyamas citizens and instead just started burning down their villages. At first, it seemed like a ridiculous act of grief and the Moriyamas opened their kingdoms city borders for the homeless to reside in temporarily. Once all of their ppl were in one place, Neil broke into the castle and gathered all the Moriyamas to make them beg for mercy.

Kevin was the only one to beg for forgiveness and accept any punishments Neil had to offer. Kevin hadn’t known where Riko hid Milo at the time and didn’t know if he should admit that Milo was in fact alive (after all, Kevin didn’t even have proof) when the Moriyamas made halfassed apologies for Neil’s loss, he told Kevin that he was an idiot and needed to stop treating Neil like a child. Then Neil set the entire city on fire as his men slaughtered as many women and children as they could. Kevin was forced to watch from a window and listen to the people’s screams as the city burned and bled. It was the first time Kevin saw Neil as a monster.

Neil then castrated the Moriyamas, killing Kengo and Ichirou and taking Tetsuji’s hands. Kevin was the only person unscathed because Neil knew how Kevin has the worst case of survivors guilt. Riko was the only person who escaped, hiding away until the next day when the fires died.

Tetsuji was meant to make Riko king now. He first ordered Kevin to kill Milo as a last act of vengeance and fear that Neil would discover the truth. Riko taunted him about it and went to sleep like a baby for his coronation the next day. Kevin almost did kill Milo before deciding to instead kill Riko in his sleep. Kevin took Milo and returned him to Neil’s men.

On his long journey to palmetto (now that the city is burned and the borders are back up Kevin must take the long way) Jean’s spirit follows him, talking to Kevin as he begins to believe he is going insane. He didn’t want to believe Jean was dead but it was the only answer. Tetsuji and his advisors slaughtered Jean for killing Riko. They didn’t bother investigating and brutally murdered him. Kevin eventually is able to return Milo and wanders between the borders, unable to return home or go to palmetto.

Neil later forgives Kevin (after a very long few years) and helps him connect with Wymack. While Kevin talks to Neil about his plans, he avoids the war and Neil never tells him that Tetsuji hung himself and the throne now belongs to Kevin. The war is coming to a close and Kevin needs to let it end before he can claim his title. Except, while Kevin is helping a few ppl escape to Palmetto, Milo (who is a teenager by now) tries to kill him, driving Kevin farther from both kingdoms. It’s why he never gets the news about the end of the war or Neil and Andrew’s brutal deaths.

Injured and weakened, Kevin tries to help as many people as he can as they all make way to palmetto. Crossing the river, Kevin is too injured from Milo’s attack to fight the ripples, causing Kevin to fall and bust his head open on a rock. Kevin drowns until he finally bleeds out.

As for Neil and Andrew, they were still on the war front the day the news of the end came. Neil was asked to help some villagers nearby their camp. He was tricked and captured and the villagers burned him alive for a day and a half. Nearing the second day, Andrew received word about Neil’s kidnapping. He was leaving their tent when he’d had a heart attack and died. Andrew was purposely poisoned so he wouldn’t avenge Neil’s death.

The only survivor of this story was Milo, who had trained himself for his parents war, who was tortured just to end it, who was kidnapped and separated from Neil, who didn’t even get to fight in it. Milo lived to tell their tale and was forced to face it alone.

The end.