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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

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Ask, and You Shall Receive

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of female masturbation, slight coercion and degradation, smut. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Daemon's maidservant has been quietly lusting after him for three months, waiting for him to make the first move. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications for updates of when I post fics. Community labels are for cops. Thank you to my boobear @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for giving this her stamp of approving, and beta'ing what my antibiotic addled mind was unable to.

When she’d first been assigned the duty of serving as Prince Daemon Targaryen’s maidservant, a rush of excitement had run hotly through her veins.

There were many names that the King’s younger brother went by, but the one that intrigued her most was Lord Flea Bottom, a moniker earned for how often he was seen in that particular part of the capital. It was no secret that the Rogue Prince enjoyed the company of whores; he frequented all of the pleasure houses within the Street of Silk, despite his marriage to Lady Rhea Royce, and no matter how much nobles and smallfolk alike enjoyed gossiping about his exploits, he was undeterred from this salacious behaviour. Daemon was not a man who concerned himself with the opinions or approval of others.

She had lusted after the Prince from afar for as long as she’d worked at the Keep, and ordinarily she’d never dream that someone of such high standing would give her the slightest bit of attention - she was a lowborn servant, a nobody - yet learning he frequented brothels gave her a glimmer of hope that he might deign to give her the attention she so desperately craved from him. A maidservant was certainly a step up from a common whore, and at the very least he would not have to part with coin in exchange for her company.

Much to her disappointment, it has been three months since she began attending to Daemon and he has not so much as spared a glance her way. He returns each evening from his duties as Commander of the City Watch, and she draws him a bath before helping him from his gold cloak and armour.

She allows herself the briefest gaze of admiration before averting her eyes, feeling her skin grow heated whenever he stands bare before her, tall, broad and godlike. He is the very image of power itself, surely hand-carved by the Seven.

When he reclines in the tub full of steamy water, her eyes roam appreciatively over the breadth of his chest and shoulders as she drags the dampened wash cloth across them, down the length of his arms and the span of his large hands.

The silken strands of his silver hair are impossibly soft against her fingers as she runs them through it, washing away the dirt of the city. The rumble of contentment that vibrates in his throat as her fingertips work against his scalp has desire pooling between her legs. She wonders what else she could do to elicit those sounds from him. Alas, no matter how deftly she washes his body and attends to his needs, he has never touched her. Though he is utterly relaxed in her presence, it seems to be in spite of it rather than because of it.

This frustrates her. She goes to bed each night pent up, her hand slipping between her legs and bringing herself to release, imagining what it would feel like to have his dampened body move against her own.

There is fire in his eyes when he returns to his quarters that evening, his brow furrowed in long spent anger, his jaw set in a way that indicates he is in no mood to talk. The darkened maroon splatters on his breastplate are doubtless dried blood, and not his own.

She longs to ask what has happened, but knows better. It is not her place to question a Prince. She has heard talk of Daemon putting tougher measures in place to deal with the rapists of King’s Landing, a recent development. She suspects that this is likely the cause of his bloodied ire tonight. Her heart swells at the thought of his chivalrous bravery. Longing to reward him for his service to the people of the city, and perhaps a last ditch attempt at gaining his attention, she decides to put extra care into his evening bath.

She ensures the water is slightly hotter than usual, scented with rose and lavender, and sets oils beside the tub, almond to use on his hair, and lemon for his body. Her final action is to strip down to just her shift, stepping out of the dress she wears that identifies her as serving staff of the Red Keep and shedding her smallclothes. She wants him to see her. If he takes offence or queries it, she reasons that she will simply apologise and say that the warmth of his bath was making her too hot. However, somehow she doubts he will be offended.

As she steps towards him to begin helping with the removal of his armour, she notices his eyes drift over her body. Covered only by a thin layer of cotton, her silhouette is illuminated through the material by the soft light of the candles that burn throughout the chamber. He says nothing, standing in silence and allowing her to disrobe him. She places each heavy piece carefully to one side, as always, though this time her hands shake with the effort.

Sweat prickles the back of her neck as he is revealed to her, her mouth running dry at the sight of him, thick thighs slightly parted as he stands with his feet planted. She catches his eye as she glances upwards and her breath sticks in her throat. He is watching her ogle him. The faintest twitch of his brow is his only reaction. She cannot tell if it is amusement or annoyance.

He lets out a low hum of appreciation as he steps into the tub, clearly noticing the difference in both scent and temperature. A small smile of pride tugs at her lips as she steps behind him, preparing to begin their nightly routine.

Carefully she wets his hair, cupping water into her hands and spreading it from root to tip, before coating her palms and fingertips in almond oil and working it through his pale tresses. She takes her time, rubbing tight, slightly pressured circles against his scalp, noticing the way his eyelids drift closed, leaning into her touch. She forgoes the use of the washcloth this evening, pouring lemon essence directly into her hands and massaging it into his chest and shoulders. The tightness in his muscles melts like butter beneath her touch as she works her way down the length of his arms, watching the way the tension he has been clinging onto dissipates with every sweep of her hands across his body.

As she moves lower, about to dip her hand beneath the surface of the bathwater, she lets out a small gasp, caught off guard by the suddenness with which Daemon grasps her wrist - not applying enough pressure to hurt her, but enough for her to know she can no longer move her arm of her own volition. Her wide eyes stare at him imploringly, though his expression is impassive as he regards her carefully.

“Do you wish to fuck me, little maid?” he asks, voice low, the slightest of smirks upon his face.

She feels as though all the air has been sucked from the room. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as her lips part in shock. She knows that Daemon speaks plainly, but she had never expected him to be so lewd, so direct. It has warmth blooming in her lower belly. A dull, throbbing ache settles between her legs.

She lets out a squeal when, clearly dissatisfied with her silence, he hauls her into the tub with him. She sits astride him, shift soaking wet and clinging to the contours of her body as she attempts to control her breathing. His hands grip her waist, holding her in place to ensure she doesn’t try to climb back out. The hardness of his body against hers, the warmth of the water lapping against her skin, the heady aroma of rose and lavender, it is all too much. Her head swims with the effort to keep her composure.

This is all she has ever wanted. Yet, she knows one wrong move could spoil it all.

Daemon reaches up, tweaking the hardened peak of her nipple that pebbles through the wet fabric, making her whine and clench around nothing. “You didn’t answer me - but I think I already know the answer. I see the way you look at me, the way you prance about my chamber like a bitch in heat.”

She squirms, mewling desperately when he hands push her soaked cotton of her shift above her hips, his thumb dipping between her legs to lightly circle her pearl. She clings tightly to his shoulders for support, wanting to say something, anything, but the words will not come. Mercifully, he is eager to speak for both of them.

“The thing is, little maid, wanton sluts don’t get what they want unless they ask nicely. Did you really think the power of your feminine charm alone would be enough to entice me? I am a Prince. People beg for my attention, not the other way around.”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly with effort it takes her to remember to breathe. Her thighs shake either side of Daemon’s hips as he continues to rub against her sensitive bud. Her brows are knitted together, an expression of both unbridled pleasure and humiliation.

He chuckles quietly. “So, are you ready to ask for what it is you want?”

Resolve crumbling, she nods fervently, hoping he will take mercy on her, but it is not enough.

“Say it,” he commands forcefully, removing his hand from between her legs.

When she eventually finds her voice, it sounds foreign to her, broken and pitiful, not her own. “P-please…Your Grace…I-I want you to fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers.

She barely has time to register the weightiness of his thick cock as it rests against his palm before he is pressing it inside of her, its girth pushing apart her fleshy inner walls with its brutal intrusion. Though she is adequately aroused, it is a stretch to accommodate him. She muffles a squeak into the crook of his neck as he sheathes himself fully within her.

His fingers curl themselves into the hair at the back of her head, gently tugging her back, an air of smugness etched across his handsome features as he looks up at her. “You will not hide from me,” he says huskily. “You wanted me to fuck you, so you will let me watch you as I do it.”

The slight threat that simmers beneath his words sends a shiver of excitement through her. The bath water begins to sway with the undulation of his hips as they thrust languidly up into hers. His pace is lazy, unhurried, yet every stroke is achingly deep as the head of him brushes against the rough patch inside of her that causes her toes to curl involuntarily. He is like a cat playing with a mouse, his eyes never leaving her face, studying every slackening of her jaw and slight scrunch of her nose as he fucks himself into her.

As he coaxes her towards her peak, she feels a familiar pressure building inside of her. It crashes over her in white hot waves, causing her to slump against Daemon’s chest with a cry of ecstasy. She feels boneless, weightless, but he is far from done with her.

Seizing her incapacitation as an opportunity, he grasps her hips, quickening his pace and pulling her downwards to meet each snap of his pelvis, the force of his movements causing the water to cascade over the sides of the wooden tub and onto the flagstone floor as he chases his own end. He grunts in satisfaction as he spends inside of her, and in the back of her pleasure-addled mind comes the hazy thought that she will need to drink moon tea in the morning.

They lay as they are for a few moments longer, as Daemon catches his breath, what remains of the bathwater rapidly cooling around them. When she finally has the strength to lift herself from his chest, she sees fire in his eyes once more, though it is not derived from fury. There is warmth behind his gaze, a fondness that she has not seen before.

He strokes her back absentmindedly, his fingers plucking at the wet shift that sticks to it. “Take this off,” he whispers, “and go to my bedchambers. We shall see if you are as good at warming my bed as you are at making my bath go cold.”

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that---one---kid · 6 months

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The cold snow

Coriolanus x Reader

AN: Sorry it kinda progressed really fast and I should’ve wrote him getting gradually more obsessive, but I’ll write another like that. Do yall think reader should relate more to teens nowadays though? Should I put her hitting a vuse in the next fic?

Smut, non-con, dub-con, arranged marriage, dark!Coriolanus, baby trapping, mentions of murder, threatening, reference to domestic violence, drugging, loss of virginity

Not once did you feel love for a man. Not once did you plan on getting married. And not once did you ever consider marrying a man from the capital, they were all the epitome of stuck-up, heartless and cruel bastards dressed up to hide it with a thick veil of elegance, but, alas, when did things you wanted ever go your way. You hide a scowl as the man you had heard far too much stood in front of you next to your father. “..and I'm sure she’s looking forward to the dress!” Your father laughed. “I’m quite sure my cousin is just as excited to help with the design.” The snow-haired boy- no, monster, said, turning to face you, his cold blue eyes look unnerving in the dim light of your dining room. You wondered if he had that same look in his eyes as he came up with ways to monetize innocent deaths. You give a forced smile, directed towards your soon-to-be husband. “I can’t wait to see what she comes up with!” Your voice sounds more strained than intended. Your father's hand lands heavy on your shoulder and he gives you a squeeze before speaking. “Coriolanus, it’s been an absolute pleasure as always, but I hate to keep you too late. University I’m sure is tiring enough and you’ll have Y/N to talk your ear off soon enough.” You shift your shoulder and shake his hand off. Your father gives you a look and Coriolanus smiles before taking your hand and raising it to his lips, bowing slightly he kisses your hand softly, the feeling of his lips on your skin makes a chill run up your spine. “Right again Mr. L/N, but I do look forward to having someone else to talk to aside from Gran’mam and Tigris and Y/N is a wonderful conversationalist.” Your father makes his way to the front door alongside Coriolanus while you snake away as they’re too preoccupied with a conversation of politics and wedding arrangements. You quietly make your way upstairs, narrowly missing a maid in your hurry to slip out of your dress and into a bath, washing the filth you felt from that monster touching you off of your skin. You weren’t naive to Coriolanus Snow. Despite a year his junior plenty of people had talked of the tenth games, of Coriolanus’s ideas, and even reminiscing on it made your blood boil even more so the fact that your father would not only condone his actions but praise them. He talked nonstop of Coriolanus’s genius and innovative brain, paired with an influential name is precisely why he was so eager to offer you up as a bride for this up-and-coming president. A soft knock on your bedroom door alerts you. “I’m in the bath!” You yell. Hearing a soft creek, footsteps slowly follow. “Hello?” You yell, a brunette female avox holding a silk robe enters your bathroom. You shift to cover yourself, despite having servants since childhood you never did get used to their lack of speech and dead stare. If your tongue got cut out you wouldn’t have much light in your eyes either, you suppose. “Thanks, just leave it on the counter.” The silent woman robotically moves towards the counter and places it down before leaving, swift footsteps and a quiet door closing signaling it was time for you to get you. Quickly standing and pulling the drain, the cool air on your skin gives you goosebumps. Slipping on the robe, there's another knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah, just one minute…” You pause, trying to recall the avox’s name, but drawing a blank.

Had even you dehumanized these indentured servants so much that you never learned their names? “Y/N?” Your head perks up from the thought. “Uh, you can come in, Mother, I just got out of the bath.” The door closes and you make yourself decent before walking out into your bedroom. Your mother sits at the edge of your bed, her thin frame barely sinking into the plush sheets. Your mother, although barely giving out any more than the bare minimum of maternal comfort, had always been a confidant for you. Rarely speaking unless spoken to, dressed to your father's liking, and eating the rations for a mouse on your father's request, you had always had a soft spot for her. You knew from a young age you wanted nothing to do with men, and never wanted to be trapped in a marriage like your mother was, loveless and cold it was no wonder you were an only child. She motions for you to sit next to her. “Grab your brush and let's talk.” Grabbing your brush off the vanity beside you, you walk over and stiffly sit next to your mother, handing her your brush. She grabs a lock of your hair and begins working her way through the tangles. This goes on for a few minutes before she breaks the silence. “I know you’re not happy about the marriage.” You roll your eyes and let out a huff. “Forgive me for not wanting to marry the malicious Mr. Snow, I know I’m sooo lucky to get a shot with someone who can make such a spectacle of child murder.” The sarcasm that made you bite your tongue around your father was let loose around your mother She brushes out a knot with more force than she should, making you let out a wince. Sighing she continues on to another section of hair. “No need to be smart.” She puts down the brush and turns you towards her. Her pale, perfectly curated mask of makeup cracks up close. Her tired eyes and creases from many nights of poor sleep cannot be hidden, no matter how much concealer and powders are applied. “I was much more naive than you are when I married your father. I had the stories and the glory days of the capitol, but I was wrong. I know we haven’t set the best example of marriage for you, but please take this away if nothing else.” Your mother looks at you with a stern and pleading gaze. “You need to submit yourself to this fate.” Her voice is desperate and you can only give her a deadpan stare, “I’m not like you, mother, I have no interest in-” A stinging pain floods your senses, your cheek beginning to get hot accompanied by what you're sure is a brilliant red handprint. Your mother composes herself, fumbling with her hands in her lap, a blank stare adorns her tired face. “Unless you want to feel that and much worse from a hand much heavier than mine, I suggest you heed my advice.” Quickly and quietly, your mother stands up and walks to the door while you sit still in a somewhat shocked state from the normally docile woman's slap. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, I don't want you to go through what I did.” And with that she leaves, leaving you to recover and slip into a nightgown before lying in bed, a futile attempt to make sleep come quicker as your head swims through questions, realizations and your inevitable fate of entrapment.

A week comes and goes, you fill your time with work from the academy, struggling to get through dinners and talks with your father about marriage and the upcoming wedding. Your mother, to her credit, uncharacteristically changes the subject from time to time, giving you few and far-between sympathetic glances. You're grateful for that, at least. “I have business to attend to in District Two for a while, your mother and I will be away for at least a week, maybe more.” Your father says in between bites of sirloin. “Will Arthur be coming around?” Arthur was your uncle, a distant relative your father would like to forget, but it was the one fight he lost to your mother, her absolute refusal for him to isolate her completely from her eldest brother was what a majority of their fights were about in your childhood. Despite that, Arthur always made things more lively, less constrictive, and was the rare times you saw your father intimidated. Your father pauses before speaking again. “He is not, I see it fitting that Coriolanus comes and stays with you while we are away. He will escort you to school and come with his driver to pick you up after his university classes.” You clench your fork, and anger and something akin to nervousness twists in your stomach. Steadying your mind before speaking, you look to your mother who sips her wine, refusing to look at you. “Does that not seem improper, Father. I mean we aren’t to be wed for two more months. What image would that look like?” You try finding any loop, using the family image as leverage wasn’t ideal, but it was a last-ditch effort. “Since when have you cared about your public image? It sets a strong front up for the two of you. I want you to be seen with him as a young respectful woman from a strong house, someone the people can see as the first lady of Panem and I trust you will do as told.” There’s emphasis at the end of his words, more like a threat. Your mother clears her throat before excusing herself to the restroom. The rest of the dinner was sat in tense silence.

A knock at the door causes you to shoot your head up from your book in the living room. Your parents had left early in the morning and it was now early afternoon, you tried easing the building nerves in your stomach by reading non-stop since before the sun was up, with time put aside to make sure your hair and makeup were perfect because despite hating you fiance and dreading his arrival, some small part of you still wanted to be desired by him. You set down your book before whispering yelling at the avox passing by. You could see a small glimpse of Coriolanus waiting at the door from the window, but the tree would make it hard for him to see you. As childish as it sounded you asked the avox to wait until she heard your bedroom door from upstairs to close before letting coriolanus in. Like a child caught sneaking down stairs to get a glimpse of Santa, you ran quickly and quietly upstairs, praying silently that Coriolanus didn’t look through the windows next to the door only to see you scampering upstairs to hide in your bedroom. As quickly as you could you make it to your bedroom and slam the door just loud enough so that it could be heard downstairs. From there you crawl into your bed and under the covers of your bed, but instead of hiding from the monsters under the bed like when you were a child, you’re hiding from the monster downstairs, the one who comes to strip you of what little freedom you had left. Hearing the stairs creak makes the dull anxiety turn into panic as the creaking disappears, meaning they’ve now made it to the second floor, meaning they, who you were hoping weren't Coriolanus, were most likely heading for your door. Thinking quickly, you feign sleep, hoping that the oldest trick in the book will work on whoever came to disturb you. A knock on the door makes you flinch, but still you lay as silently as possible, trying to control and calm your breathing. The door knob turns and the door is pushed open ever so slightly. A heavy footstep echoes through your quiet room followed by a closing door.

Glass against glass is heard before being placed by your bedside followed by a weight on the bed and hot breath tickling your ear. “Sleeping at noon? Come on now, Y/N, I’m not an idiot.” Coriolanus’s voice comes out smooth like honey, but cold like the harsh whip of winter air when you first step outside. You turn over, bleary eyed and fake yawning. “What are you doing in my bedroom uninvited?” Your voice is meant to be accusatory and confident but comes out meek and wavering. Coriolanus backs up, his perfectly slicked back hair doesn't falter even when he brushes it back, a smirk that spells nothing but no-good unnerves you. “I’m your fiance, I think we’re past courting formalities, Y/N, plus, I’ve brought you tea.” Smiling Coriolanus gestures to the white porcelain cup. “Thank you, Coriol-” “Call me Corio, please, the formalities and all are far behind us.” You smile, picking up the tea cup and taking a sip out of it to try and fill the awkward silence that weighs heavy in the room. The bitter taste catches you off guard, scowling as you take another sip, trying to gauge what kind of tea it is. “Corio, what is this, it's such a..strange flavor?” Smiling Corio pushes the cup up to your lips again. “It gets better with taste, and old recipe Grand’mam taught me.” Downing it as fast as possible as to not offend his Grna’mam’s tea you feel yourself get light headed as the world gets blurry. “Corio, what is this..” You trail off, your words are slurred and speaking feels like a chore. Your senses are so numbed that you don’t think twice when Corio gently pushes you back against the feather pillows. “Don’t you think it’s funny that we are engaged and haven't so much as kissed yet?”

Even through your haze you can see the way the blonde is looking at you. His eyes are hungry, like a predator eyeing up its prey. “I’ve been thinking about you like this for a long time, Y/N, by my side, taming you and your defiance.” Coriolanus slips off his shoes and begins unbuttoning his shirt as he climbs on top of you. “I’ve been eyeing you up for awhile, Y/N, before the arrangements, at the academy, the way you look in your uniform, the way you think outside of the box..” Slowly he begins shedding his shirt, his hands snaking their way up your thigh, hiking up your skirt. “And I see the way the other men in the capital look at you, young, beautiful, rich, pure as snow…you’re a very desirable girl.” He’s made his way to the top of your skirt, slowly pulling it down, leaving you in your top and lacey panties. Now shirtless, Coriolanus begins working at undoing his own pants, leaving him in nothing but boxers on top of you. You try moving your legs but they give up after a few tries. It takes all of your energy to fight to stay awake,your heads not spinning anymore, but even if you could move, Coriolanus would easily overpower you. “S-stop.” You muster out weakly, trying and failing to push him off you, your weak arms are pinned to your side quickly by his own. “I don’t like the thought of another man but your husband taking you, and I intend to fulfill my role as your husband before you retaliate.”

Using one hand, Coriolanus unbuttons your shirt, button by button you feel your cheeks heat up and a growing arousal in your panties throws you off. You had never been touched like this by anyone other than your own hands in the dead of night before. Coriolanus swears under his breath as he exposes the rest of you, eyes wandering back down to your panties. “I’ve known about you far longer than you have of me, Y/N. I’m ready to have a loving marriage with you, but you just need to accept me.” He trails off as he unclasps your bra, rambling more about how he couldn’t wait and all the long dinners with you were driving him mad. Now fully exposed and more out of it than ever you feel his hands cup your breast. His erection pressing hard against your stomach as he leans down for a desperate kiss. He’s rough, trying to take in as much of you as possible.. Panting, his hot breaths send shivers down your spine, you feel your own wetness as you feebly rub your thighs together, weakly and with as much force as you can you push on his shoulders so he is sitting up straddling you. You tell yourself it’s to get him off of you, but in reality if so he’ll give attention to the rest of your body and not just your now abused lips. Coriolanus has the eyes of a madman as he quickly sheds his boxers and pulls down your panties. Using his thumb to tease your clit, you jolt slightly. Feeling foreign hands on you was a strange yet pleasurable experience. “Corio..” your soft moan of his name made him all the more possessive of you. He wanted to only ever hear you say his name in such a way, and he wanted to hear more of it. Taking out his hard cock, he lined it up with your entrance. Coriolanus leaned back down, kissing you much more softly as he pushed into your virgin cunt. You moan into the kiss as you feel his cock pushing into you. “God, you’re so tight, you were made for me.” He moaned, head spinning Coriolanus wasn’t sure when, but he was holding your hips down as he fucked you, the way your breast bounced and your hair fell in your face as you moaned his name in breathy gasps made his head spin. “Corio-ah, fuck, Coriolanus..” Your meek voice just made him want to fuck you harder, to draw out more symphonies of his name, to make it known to not just you, but the world that you were Y/N Snow, and nobody except him could take you this way. In between moaning your assailant's name and begging for more, you had a few moments of clarity, where you knew this was wrong but your body betrayed you. Moving on instinct you lift your legs towards your chest, begging to take the blondes’ cock deeper into you. In Coriolanus’s mind, you were begging for him to make you his, for him to not just claim you in name, but claim a life, a life that both of you created. Slamming your hips against his own Corio could feel himself coming undone, letting out breathy moans of your name you felt his hot cum spilling inside of you, begging for your own release which soon followed. Coriolanus fell on top of you, feebly keeping himself stable above you before rolling over to look at you. Rosy cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat cover you as your hair curls and frames your face in an almost angelic way. You were exhausted, trying to think but coming up blank, the drug affect starting to weigh on you, you allow yourself to block out the blonde lying next to you and let your heavy eyes close, drifting off to an inviting deep sleep while Corio stares at you, content with himself and that you’ll never be able to leave him now, especially with the child he and you would have, tying you to him forever.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #smut

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bu-blegh-ost · 5 months

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A short essay about how Caspian is mathematically not a mole (ep. 115 spoilers) (and for the whole series for that matter)

Okay, alright guys, I saw your concerns. I saw it all, and you are right to be worried that your favourite blue wet man's blue and equally wet best friend may turn out to be a traitor. And so am I, trust me. Which is why I went through every single bit of Caspian's past I could dig out to create an unltimate timeline of his entire goddamn life to see it it'd be plausible for him to become a mole at any point in time and ultimately prove his innocence! If that's something you're interested in reading, then buckle up!

"Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones. This is totally seperate from the Black-Ops situation that you learned about in the Stronghold. And you, in this book, can tell that there is a plant on Lizzie's crew."

This, of course is something I need to point out first. Whoever Lizzie's mole might be, they are not a doppelganger. They are not a clone, or Black-Ops, just a solider of the Navy, a person that must have gotten into the Navy via regular recruitment, be trained by them and then put into a spy division. Jay ofc had this entire process sped up, due to her grandma's influence, but no one other than her, especially an Undersea citizen, who would probably have to put in extra effort to be trusted given their shaky political situation few years back, would get the same treatment. What I'm trying to say, Caspian would need time, at least few years of training to become a mole they'd trust to infiltrate a crew, and not just any crew might I add. More on that later. Let's go back to his most early years for now. This is a fragment of episode 84 in which Caspian talks to Gillion abt his early life:

C: We all have family. I consider my life up here, this crew to be my found family. But my previous…tribe with the water genasi in the Undersea, where I was growing up…sort of in a [illegible]... remember me telling you about the outskirts? We um…was very nomadic, quite a, quite a peaceful, tranquil life, but it was always, you know…mixed with this life of poverty and my family wasn’t very…wouldn’t really have much but the water around us, and each other, I suppose, so uh…You know...I mean my mother didn’t make it past old age, and uh…

G: I’m sorry…

C: When my sister left the tribe, my father sort of fell into a depression of sorts and he stopped moving around. And when we stayed in one place, I was 18 or so, maybe 16, it was a while ago, and then…that’s when I left as well. Ventured to the Oversea, and um…and it’s history, so that’s my family. Not sure what they’re up to these days, I mean…I know my sister went to the capital, where you were.

G: Pirating is a pretty lucrative business, maybe if…we managed to find them or run into them, we can give something back, put them in a better situation.

C: …Well um…I mean this was 10-15, 10 to 12 to 15 years ago, quite some, quite some time, so I don’t even know if my father is alive still, I mean I don’t really have the desire to go back to the undersea, Gill.

G: Wha-why not?

C: Because I like my life up here. This is where I’m happy.

So, before we go to what all of that entails, one more quick crazy thing to mention: so, Caspian's sister is an Elder of the Undersea. Like for sure. This is confirmed by this part from ep. 79:

The Triton who you remember as the Elder Odolaf, who looks like he is about to speak, but is cut off by the water genasi, who has been doing a lot of talking thus far, who is Elder Celeste. They stand up and there is a familiarity that you notice now in their face. It’s like you have met them before, but not in the way that you know them because they are the Elder, but in a way that it’s like, they look like somebody you know. And she has sort of these uh, white tied-up like dreads that are tied up in like a bun and they come across the face and then one side is shaved. And there are beads and piercings in her hair, her ears are a little bit more sea elf-like in the way that they are pointed and they kind of like gradient into pink. They all kind of wear the same sort of ornate robes, though hers is more, I guess faded and like cut a bit, look a bit more warriorous, or like tribal, but still very well-made and professional.

Tribal clothing, a water genasi, that looks like someone Gillion saw before in the face. The only water genasi Gillion met after leaving the Undersea is Caspian. Elder Celeste is Caspian's sister. Wild. Anyway, not what we're here for, but I needed to mention that.

The crazier thing is that Caspian left to Oversea when he was 16-18, and it has been 10-15 years since then. That means Caspian is currently 26 at possible youngest, and 33 at his oldest, which was surprising to me, I did not imagine Caspian as a man in his 30s! But that's straight up facts, so holy shit, you know?

Okay, so I'm going to list a lot of small facts that determine a lot of ages in quick succession. I hope it's not gonna be too scary to look at, I'll simplify it all at the end. [Deep inhale]

Right now Gillion is 22. So when Caspian left the Undersea, Gillion was 12-7. Jay is 21 and Ava was 2 years older, same age as Lizzie. So Lizzie is 23 now. When Caspian left the Undersea, she was 13-8. Chip is 19, so Lizzie is 4 years older. Hole in the Sea happened when Chip was 9, so Lizzie was 13. So Caspian left the Undersea around the same time Lizzie crashed on the uninhabited island with Chey after the Hole.

It's a lot, I know, I know. So let me clear this up a little.

Hole in the sea was 10 years ago. Chip was 9, Lizzie was 13. 10 years ago Caspian was in the age between 16 and 23, and he left the Undersea when he was 16 or 18. So roughly at the same time the Black Sea happened, Caspian came to the surface for the first time.

(also pls note that we are talking in estimates, casue in ep. 36 Lizzie says she was 11 when the hole happened, but in ep. 101 she says she was the same age as Ava which by the power of math would put her at 13. Either way, somewhere around that age)

After that, Lizzie spend some time on an uninhabited island with Chey, the Black Rose cook, who sacrificed herself for Liz, so she could survive and died shortly after. We do not know how much time passed, but I assume no longer than few months, and after that she was saved by Captain Shadowbeard where she met Caspian. They were a part of Shadowbeard's crew, Caspian saved her from the massacre where Shadowbeard was killed, and then Lizzie went on to create her own crew, Grandberry Pirates with Caspian never leaving her for a second since he met her. That means that the only time Caspian could have joined the Navy would be RIGHT after he came to the Oversea for the first time, roughly at the same time Lizzie was stranded on an island, and in that short period of time (between Lizzie's crash on the island and her being found by Shadowbeard) he would have to find the time to be trusted and accepted by Navy, get trained specifically for infiltration AND infiltrate not anyones BUT FUCKING SHADOWBEARD'S SHIP. Not a NEW crew. A crew of one of the most legendary pirates on the sea. Cause before Lizzie, Caspian was Sadowbeard's crew member, and since then he never stopped being a pirate, so if he was a solider, he would have had to be one before Shadowbeard. And remeber what Grizzly said in 115: "Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones."

Shadowbeard was not new. Not upcoming. He was dangerous and Navy must have had the balls of steal to send a rookie solider, which Caspian would have been at that point in time, to infiltrate him. The numbers say it's impossible. Guys, the numbers! They don't add up!

Anyway, so basically Caspian could not be a mole. He is not a new pirate, he was not a member of a fresh crew, becaue his pirate journey did not start with Lizzy, it started with Shadowbeard. Grandberry Pirates is a new crew, but Caspian is not a newbie in it. You know who is? Rudith. I mean what kind of doctor lets a bunch of rowdy pirates have a secret base under a place where sick and vulnerable rest??? Like ANY other place would have been better and more respectful! Also you know what's interesting? Gillion could heal these people with lay on hands easily, and yet the only thing Rudith did for them was give them potions that didn't seem to help and look after them on purely non-medical level. Bro didn't do shit. Like, why would you even become a doctor without having access to healing magic? The answer, you are not. You are a Navy solider in disguise.

Okay, okay, I'm done, that's all. If you got this far, you are a hero, thank you for reading this insanely long ramble, but that's kind of the conclusions that I came to, of course, any counter-theories and discussion in general is very much welcome! I'd love to hear your opinions! Love you guys, bye~

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #gillion jrwi #gillion tidestrider #caspian jrwi #jrwi caspian #elizabeth lafayette #lizzie jrwi #riptide spoilers #spoilers #jrwi spoilers

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 5 months

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THE MORNING SKY

— (Young) Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ── 1 [ THE REAPING / THE SPARK ]

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | TABLE OF CONTENTS

a/n: first chapter is finally here! i don’t use y/n and try my best to avoid descriptors, but i do use she/her. also reader had a twin brother who passed away.

ALSO just a quick thing about those asking to be tagged but i can’t tag you. so far everyone that i can’t tag is either a blank blog with no profile pic, or even if they have a profile pic there are either 0 things on your page or there are only reblogs. if any of those apply to you, tumblr views you as a bot and your account isn’t visible. i can’t even search your user and you pop up, i have to press “go to @ user”. okay first chapter below the cut!

WHAT IS A SOULMATE? The answer to that question depended on 2 things: who you asked, and how old they were. The soulmate process was complicated, and to this day there was still not a single person who fully understood how it all worked. The bond, or “the spark” as it was often called, didn’t happen until at least one half of the pair laid eyes on the other.

Before that, people simply felt no romantic interest towards anyone else. As for the spark itself, it was described as a warm happy feeling. That lasted for a few minutes, and was your bodies way of making sure you knew what was happening. Then even once the warmth went away, there was still that sense of happiness.

But back to the question. To those in the Capital, those who came from wealthy families or whose last name meant something, a soulmate was often no more than a recommendation. If it turned out their soulmate was someone who lived in a poor district or who lived in but worked for the Capital in a lowly position, it was common to sever the bond. When that happened, both halves would feel like something was missing for the rest of their lives. It was described as a sense of longing, a dull ache that all you could do was learn to live with.

Once the severing happened, those in the Capital would simply find another with a severed bond. After all, the goal was still to secure a (wealthy) future.

Because at least one person in the pair has to lay eyes on their other half, some people go nearly their whole lives before meeting their soulmate. Some of them would tell you that this was worse than meeting them early on and having the bond severed.

One of the oldest pair of soulmates in District 12 (your district) was a sweet couple in their late-80’s. Despite being up there in age, they’d been together for less than a decade. Having lived on complete opposite sides of the district, it was just a sad coincidence that they’d gone nearly their whole lives without ever being in the same place at the same time.

And for some, the opposite rings true. There was a 4-year-old boy and a 4-year-old girl who had their spark occur when they move next door to each other. For now they were the best of friends. Romantic feelings would come much, much later.

Some people get really unlucky, and go their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmate. If yours dies before you’ve met, you’d get a worse version of that aching feeling that comes if a bond is severed.

There were often discussions about what the worse situation would be. Not meeting your soulmate until you didn’t have much longer to live, meeting them and they want nothing to do with you, or not ever meeting them and they die before you. One could argue that the answer was all of the above, and that the worse case would also be if a pair were put on opposite sides of a terrible situation: someone from the Capital bonded with a tribute in the Hunger Games.

Wealthy folk liked to place bets on if each year was the year it would finally happen, and those that said this is the year were always wrong. That is, until the 11th Hunger Games.

🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶

You were among the many who had yet to meet your soulmate. Though at only 18, it didn’t bother you yet. You were still eligible to be thrown into the games, and you figured you had much bigger things to worry about. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you’d yet to meet whoever they were. It wouldn’t be fair to them if you met and then your name was drawn, and you were killed. Though the alternative to that would be that you’d die before at least meeting. And based on stories you’ve heard from those who were put in that situation, that caused just as much (if not more) heartbreak.

“Just one more year,” you whispered to yourself. You could only hope that you at least looked braver than you felt.

It was the morning of the reaping for the 11th Hunger Games, and you were doing your best to look good. It was no secret that the Capital paid close attention to appearances, even from those not selected to compete. And it was also no secret that Mayor Lipp’s other daughter absolutely hated your guts, so you already had a sinking feeling what was going to happen. (a/n: pretend your outfit / hair is whatever you’d like!)

After a few more minutes fixing your outfit and hair in front of the mirror, you finished up just as a series of knocks could be heard at the door.

“Ready?” Archer greets you with a grim smile. When he takes a closer look at you, he raises his eyebrows. “What’s the occasion?”

Under any other circumstance, you might’ve laughed. But you both knew what the occasion was, and that he was only attempting to lighten the mood.

“Juniper Lipp, that’s the occasion.”

“Hey—”

You shook your head. “No point in trying to paint a different picture. We all know what Mayfair did. She had Mayor Lipp call out Lucy Gray for last year’s reaping, all because of Billy. She admitted as much. Now Billy, Lucy Gray, and Mayfair are gone. Juniper knows that Lucy Gray and I were friends. Add to that the fact that Juniper’s supposed boyfriend tried to kiss me, twice. After I shoved him the second time, he started going around telling people that I came on to him and that he had to tell me to back off. You and I both know what’s going to happen today.”

Deep down, Archer knew there was no point in arguing. Juniper Lipp was just as bad, if not worse than her sister was. From the moment Mayfair had it out for Lucy Gray, Juniper took an instant disliking to you. Combined with the incident with Juniper’s boyfriend, at this point no one your age would put it past her to make sure today was a repeat of last year.

After a tense moment of silence, you speak up again. “I know this is going to be the last time I—”

Archer cut you off with a quick shake of his head. “No. Don’t talk like that. You and I are gonna walk over together, and it’ll be the last reaping that we’re eligible for. That’s that. This time next year, these thoughts will be gone.”

One of the things you loved about Archer was his optimism. You’d known him practically your whole life. You met in 1st grade, and he quickly became friends with your twin brother. Then when he died, Archer stuck around. He said it was to make sure you were okay.

Anxiety began to creep in. The light at the end of the tunnel was so close, but you were almost positive you wouldn’t reach it.

“I almost made it.” You laugh, but there is no humor in your tone. “We’re finally eighteen. You said it yourself, after this we would be done. I would’ve been free. Got all the way to the end and today I’m getting picked and that’s means I’m going to d—”

“No,” Archer used your full name, so you knew he was serious. “You’re gonna shut up and listen to me for a minute. You are the strongest, bravest person I have ever met. You are a fighter. And stop looking at me like this is goodbye because even if it does happen today, I know you can win.”

“Archer—”

In lieu of a response, he shook his head again and held his arm out for you to take. “Shall we?”

Less than 10 minutes later, he gave you a hug and went to go stand with the rest of the boys.

Right on schedule, Mayor Lipp came out and gave the same boring speech about the games that he gave every year. After talking about how it was a great honor to compete, he had the audacity to say that although it was a sacrifice, it’s as ultimately a privilege to serve your district in this way. Hearing that last part, you had to use all of your mental strength to keep yourself from laughing.

What the fuck does he know about sacrifice? You thought to yourself. Looking at those around you, you guessed they were thinking the same thing. In fact, you’d bet everything you owned that Mayor Lipp’s daughter(s) names were conveniently not in that bowl of potential tributes.

“And now,” Mayor Lipp finally pulled you from your thoughts, “we’ll begin with finding out who this years female tribute will be.” He made a big show of putting his hand in the bowl and swishing around, which made you tilt your head down so you could roll your eyes. Such a dramatic gesture considering you knew he was going to say your name.

Time felt like it stopped. When you glanced up, it felt like all eyes were on you. Looks like you were right after all.

Although you wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and cry, you forced yourself to keep your head held high as you made your way to the stage. That’s when you first heard it.

So soft, at first you thought that you might be imagining things. But you’d know that annoying sound anywhere. Juniper Lipp was laughing.

“Oops, I’d say good luck but I wouldn’t mean it,” she whispered as you walked by.

Originally, you intended on ignoring Juniper as best you could. But at the last possible second, she stuck her foot out and caused you to trip and land face-first.

Almost immediately, you felt the blood begin to drip from your nose, and you forced yourself to hold back tears as you picked yourself up. It was a miracle she hadn’t broken your nose.

In a moment of bravery that you’ll later come to say you have no idea where it came from, you wiped some of the blood from your nose with the palm of your hand and turned around, smearing it all over Juniper’s face and clothes.

The reaction from the crowd was a mixture of mostly gasps, but a few quiet cheers here and there. Juniper was clearly disliked by a majority of the youth in District 12.

Juniper stood in the same spot, screaming at the top of her lungs. Once you finally reached the stage, you were greeted with a harsh shove from Mayor Lipp. This caused you to stumble back onto the stage, falling for the second time in just a few minutes. The crowd was stunned into silence. Almost everyone was filled with a terrible sense of deja vu as they recalled the events that took place only last year with Lucy Gray.

When you thought of your friend that you missed dearly, you could practically see Lucy Gray in the audience. You know exactly what she’d tell you. Give ‘em a show.

With Lucy Gray in mind, you waited until Mayor Lipp was escorted (practically dragged) back inside. Once the doors shut, you walked to the front of the stage and stood near the microphone. The crowd quickly fell silent, assuming you were going to speak. But instead, you bowed, and when you stood straight, held both middle fingers high.

All of a sudden, you felt it. That warm, happy feeling. Your eyes scanned the crowd, wondering if this was really the fucking moment you were going to meet your soulmate. Did the universe actually hate you that much? The feeling could’ve very well been nerves. But you weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what was happening. Though try as you might, by the time the warmth faded and you were just left with that happy feeling, you couldn’t see anyone who was having the same reaction. And once the warmth was gone, your anxiety was quick to overpower anything good that you felt.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain blonde hair, blue eyed boy sat back in his seat as he did his best to subtly look around at his classmates. None of them were looking around like he was, and it took him a minute to work out what happened.

As panic began to set in for him, he only hoped that none of the people in the room could tell what was going on.

The sad truth was that neither of you could focus on the major event that just took place. He, for example, had to already think ahead as a mentor. From his perspective, he knew that if any of his fellow mentors figured out what you were to him, they’d encourage their tributes to kill you first simply out of spite. No one forgot the water bottle stunt he pulled to save Lucy Gray last year.

And now more than ever, Coriolanus Snow couldn’t let that happen. It nearly killed him to lose Lucy Gray in the final moments of last years games. Add on to the fact that he now knew you were his soulmate, the stakes just became so much higher.

Coriolanus didn’t think either of you could handle any other outcome. No matter what it took, you would have to win this years games.

i promise you meet coryo next chapter!!! just had to get these parts out of the way.

TAGLIST — (if you requested to be added to the taglist, check the table of contents (linked above). if your user is in bold and / or not tagged it means I wasn’t able to tag you. everyone that hasn’t been able to be tagged so far is either 1. a blank account with no profile pic and nothing on their page, 2. no profile pic and only reblogs, 3. they have a profile pic but only reblogs. any combination of these means tumblr viewers you as a bot and your page isn’t visible. those in bold I couldn’t search and they just popped up. I had to press “go to @ user”.)

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the-joy-of-knowledge · 11 months

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How to answer tough interview questions.

Subscribing to the Harvard Business Review was one of the best decisions I made. I have learned so much about career development, personal branding, and job crafting. This article summarizes some of the questions you will get asked in a behavioral interview (courtesy of HBR) and I have included my responses to all of them. Assume I am seeking a HR role in a Fortune 500 company

Tell me about yourself and describe your background in brief?

How did you hear about this position?

What type of work environment do you prefer?

How do you deal with pressure or a stressful situation?

Do you prefer working independently or on a team?

How do you keep yourself organized when balancing multiple projects?

What did you do in the last year to improve your knowledge?

Tell me about yourself and describe your background in brief?

I grew up in small country in West Africa. I went to a great school through scholarship with the condition that I would pay it forward to the younger generation. So, after high-school I spent two years teaching math to elementary school kids. It was there I discovered my interest of people development. I enjoyed taking a kid from "I don't like math to can I get more homework? When I moved to the U.S for college I chose to study Psychology with a minor in Organizational Development. And my internship as a Human Capital Manager has allowed me to further develop my communication and leadership skills.

How did you hear about this position?

I learned about this position through Stacy Williams. She was one of the panelists on the fireside chat I convened in my school on the importance of women in leadership positions. I followed up with her through a coffee chat. She really enjoyed her job and the company culture. Her enthusiasm about her work encouraged me to apply and I am really excited to be going through the interview process.

What type of work environment do you prefer?

I thrive in environments where I am constantly learning. A place where each days brings a fresh set of challenges that I can solve. I also like working with teams where we can collaborate on tasks and brainstorm solution-oriented ideas. In my former internship I worked with an incredible team as a project manager in the human resources division and I worked on certain projects where I had full creative control on the outcome. I enjoyed the balance of both.

How do you deal with pressure or a stressful situation?

Stressful situations are inevitable and I learned to navigate them successful throughout my college career and my various internships. The first time I came across a stressful situation was in my Sophomore year. I worked as a customer service representative at a big department store and it was holiday season. You can imagine the amount of pressure - long lines of customers all waiting to get attended too. Instead of succumbing to the pressure I made sure to really understand the pain point of each customer which were long wait times and stock outs. If we were out of one brand of sparkling water, I would quickly recommend a different brand. If lines were long, I would go to the floor to help the bagging process. Customers left feeling satisfied with their shopping experience. Overtime, I have realized that the key to dealing with pressure is willingly choosing to complete the tasks with a positive mindset instead of worrying.

Do you prefer working independently or on a team?

I like a mix of both. I enjoy working on a team. The process of strategizing with my teammates on the best way to approach a problem allows for critical analysis and diverse points of view. Wh I also build camaraderie and trust with them while we tackle big problems. I enjoy working alone as well because I get to see how I approach different problems and compare my current performance to my previous ones. Working alone also gives me an opportunity to get feedback from my managers on my progress or areas of improvement. I like a balance of both.

How do you keep yourself organized when balancing multiple projects?

I am used to working on multiple projects. A typical semester for me is juggling between my classes, weekend job, extracurricular activities, and passion projects. So to stay on top of my deadlines and due dates I like to prioritize my tasks based on their level of urgency and importance. I use the time blocking method to schedule time for my projects. I take advantage of tools like Google calendar to keep track of due dates and appointments and Notion to manage big projects.

What did you do in the last year to improve your knowledge?

Last summer, I took some time off to really learn about veganism. It seemed intimidating at first because I did not know enough. So I turned to research to understand the facts. I began making home-cooked meals by following recipes from people I trusted and liked on YouTube. As I began noticing changes in my gut health and productivity levels, I started a blog to share my experiences. Now my blog has over 500 enthusiastic vegans who are on the same journey as I am. it was one of the best investment I made in myself.

The Big Pivot

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twirlingsmilingwriting · 5 months

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Paper Talks || Young! Coriolanus Snow X Plinth! Reader pt. 1

TLDR: You knew that people would try to gain your attention and trust because of your families status but Coriolanus always seemed to go above and beyond the usual hallway waves. Are his feelings true and genuine or is he just as shallow as the rest?

Warnings: Capital people talk, reader is a little bratty, She/Her pronouns reader

A/N: This is part ONE of THREE planned stories. So basically I got requests for this same parring of Snow X Plinth! reader and one wanted angst the other wanted fluff so this is the set up story to those two. The story will break off and diverge from this point and you'll get to choose the ending you want. Will they fall in love or will it burn to pieces? YOU CHOOSE!

Based on THIS ask

Word Count: 2.1 k

Taglist: @simpovereveryone

The academy was rather boring most days. Constant busy work 24/7 about things I already knew just didn't ever seem to rub me the right way. What was the point in this education if it felt like you were never actually LEARNING anything? I sighed tapping my pencil ever so slightly against my desk while I listened to Highbottom ramble about whatever painfully vague topic he wanted to yap about today. That man drank so much I swear, not only could you smell the liquor off of him but you could see it, like a weird mystifying haze around him and in his eyes. He must've been mixing something in his cup because liquor doesn't do that much damage. I, honestly, needed whatever he was having to get through this lesson.

Finally, like a saving grace, the bell rang and we were excused from the lecture hall. A few people waved and smiled while I walked through the halls and I did the same back. While I was from the districts, the capital people still seemed to treat me fairly, to my face that is, because of one thing and one thing only, my last name.

Plinth.

We were new money and we sure had a ton of it. An ever-looming fear of mine is that people don't actually like me but just want to get closer to me so they can get a piece of my family's fortune. Easily, I can see why people would want to get closer to me. It didn't help when my last year in the academy came and my father announced there would be a "Plinth Prize", a scholarship of sorts that would help other students pay for university. My father is a very charitable man for offering up a chunk of our wealth to others but it made me a lot more paranoid at school. What if people were just trying to get closer to me so I'd put a good word into my dad? The thought caused a deep sinking feeling of anxiety to sit in the pit of my stomach. Shaking my head, I dusted away the emotions, grabbed my food and tried to find a spot to sit in the cafeteria.

Looking over the area, I saw the broad stocky build and curly brown hair of a boy sitting alone at a 4 person table. Oh, Sej... Sej is my twin brother, obviously not identical twin but he was my twin. I placed my food onto the table with a 'plop' and eagerly sat down to eat.

"Sejanus"

"Y/N"

We both nodded and continued to eat. It was a weird sibling thing we did. Hello's get boring when you have to say them all the time so we just say each other's names then move on. I started absolutely demolishing my sandwich. Words can not describe how delicious a sandwich is after having to listen to Highbottom's intoxicated rants for hours on end. That's when I noticed something, Sej wasn't eating. His eyes were distracted, focused on something behind me. I cocked my brow up in confusion before slowly turning my head to see what he was looking at.

I don't know when he got there but the tall, lanky frame of a man clad in our school uniform was walking to where we were sat and promptly stood at the edge of our table. Curls so blond they were almost white framed his face with a smirk painted across it. His eyes switched between the two of us slowly as if they were slithering inside of his head. Coriolanus Snow. I don't think I've ever actually talked to him before but we did share a class. Sej smiled and said hi to him and he nodded back before asking,

"Is that seat taken?" his head motioned to the seats beside us and I was about to say 'yes' but I couldn't beat the enthusiastic nods and "Oh no it's absolutely free please come sit down," from my brother.

I watched dumbfounded while he reached over and slightly pulled out the chair next to him for Coriolanus. The blond man ignored this, the fabric of his sleeve touching my hair every so slightly while he slid behind to take the seat next to me. That pissed me off, just a little. I hate when people touch my hair. Spend so long to make it look presentable and then people go in and mess with it UGH. My brothers smile faded slightly before it perked back up again as he excitedly started to strike up a conversation with Coriolanus who couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of me. I felt his gaze burning my skin like thousands of little coals. Who knows what kind of comments he might have been making in his head. I looked back down at my sandwich and started to eat it again, but a lot slower.

Sejanus and Coriolanus went back and forth with some banter, clearly, Sej was a lot more interested than Coriolanus was. I felt kind of sad for my brother at times. I don't think he realized how easily people could use us. He trusted too freely and it seemed like he really liked Coriolanus. While other students would try to be kind to us to our faces, that didn't stop them from laughing at us behind our backs. I've only overheard their snickers and chuckles about how we were 'dirty district' twice but that was twice too many. Sej couldn't see through the plastic personas. He leaned over the table, directing his full energy and attention to holding this conversation with Coriolanus who wasn't even holding eye contact with him. He was cut off mid-ramble when Coriolanus spoke.

"Sejanus... you never told me you had a sister"

Oh god, I've been noticed. ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION.

"Actually, she's my twin sister. I assumed you would've already known she-"

"I think I have a class with her... Y/N right?"

Why were they talking about me like I wasn't right there? Sejanus was about to open his mouth again when Snow tapped my shoulder, forcing my attention to him. I got to get a better look at his face up close now and I couldn't deny the absolute gravitational pull those blue eyes had. Silently, I swam into the oceans of those blue eyes. I knew I had to get out before I drowned. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"Y/N. Y/N Plinth. And you are... Coriolanus?"

"Please, call me Corio." His smirk turned to a cheesy smile and he tipped his head slightly, extending his hand out for me to shake. I looked down at his hand and then back up at him while I nervously took it and shook it. His hands were as cold as icicles. The feeling almost made me shiver. He gave my hand a squeeze when I tried to pull away like he was trying to keep me there. I did not like that one bit. When he finally released my hand he didn't take his eyes off of me once.

"Sure, Corio..." I mumbled out before trying to return to my almost-finished sandwich. Sej took that as his opportunity to continue blabbering on to Coriolanus.

The passing days started to notice a frequently rising increase in Coriolanus Snow bombarding my days. He started to become one of those faces that would wave at me in the hallways but he always wanted to stop and talk and compliment my appearance. Just the other day he moved seats in our shared class to sit next to me, conveniently on the day we had to start a group project with our "table partner". I didn't like how he seemed to be infecting every inch of my life. Sejanus even started to invite him to the mansion so they could hang out and I'd have to see those icy blue eyes cross my vision whenever I went downstairs for a snack and of course, he had to talk to me.

A part of me wants to believe how that Corio was genuine and was trying to be our friend but I couldn't help the impending sense of doom I felt whenever I thought about opening up to him. Today was unlike the others. To start, when Sej and I walked to school together, Coriolanus crossed our path and walked with us. His body hung close to mine as he and Sejanus talked over my head. Corio kept trying to drag me into their conversation but I was trying to minimize the amount of Snow that was being left on my person. When I made it to my first class that's when I noticed a white rose placed on the side of my bag. It must've been from Corio. He must've slipped it in my bad while we were walking this morning. I'm just a girl! I couldn't help the way my face lit up bright red with a blush from this action.

Just as my face felt hot so did my temper. I couldn't let myself get distracted here. I knew what he really wanted, right? I twirled the stem of the rose between my fingers, carefully trying to avoid the thorns, and watched how pretty it looked spinning. Humming softly, I closed my eyes and watched as the rest of the day went by fast.

Corio and I sat sitting next to each other in the library trying to study for class. He started insisting on these study dates after we had that first group assignment together. I don't understand why he felt the need to sit there and explain all the questions to me. I knew what he was talking about. The fabric of our pants touched each other lightly as it was the one barrier that stopped our knees from touching. Coriolanus continued to ramble on about the question we were on and was explaining the steps to solve it for the 100th time and I was starting to get seriously bored. With a heavy sigh, I pulled my paper closer to me and started to solve the problems at a lot faster of a speed than we were going at. I had done about 4 questions by the time he was done explaining that one to me and that's when he realized, he had pretty much been talking to the air.

"Y/N? Y/N? Are you listening?"

He spoke, leaning ever so closer to me. He started snapping his fingers in from of my face and I felt this anger start to boil in me.

"Darling, I'm trying to show you how to solve this."

Finally, when he placed his hand on my thigh and I heard the word 'Darling' escape his lips did I snap. My head shot up and I looked over at him, shooting daggers in his direction. I hissed under my breath,

"Corio, do you think I'm stupid? I know what you want "Darling, " I let the darling roll off my tongue sarcastically and mockingly. "and it's not me. You're not sly Snow, I know you're flirting with me and I suggest you scurry along here before I put in a bad word to my father about how this boy in my class can't seem to leave me alone in peace to do my school work. Are we clear?"

Coriolanus took a step back, his mouth agape from the shock of what was just said to him. He took a sharp inhale before a smirk spread on his face, similar to the one he had the first day he sat next to Sejanus and I. There was a plan behind that smile I just knew it.

"That is where you're wrong I'm afraid. I love your feist though Ms. Plinth, simply another challenge, and don't forget, Snow always lands on top."

His body glided so elegantly through the air as he stood up from his seat next to me, placed his hands on my shoulders, and leaned down to look over my shoulder, leaning down so close I could feel his breath against my neck. If my heart was beating any faster it might have turned into an engine an raced out of my chest.

"By the way Y/N... the answer is 3 not 67, I can't even process how you'd make that kind of mistake but if you ever need help with math, let me know. I'm sure you would've gotten it right if you were listening."

He whispered in my ear before standing up and leaving the room. The whole interaction caused a shiver to go down my spine in shock before the anger came rushing back into my veins. Who does this man think he is? And what a cringy tag line, "Snow always lands on top"? please. We will just have to see about that one.

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blushstarot · 11 days

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PICK A CARD: What would your life be like if you lived in a fairy tale?

Hii this is my first pick a card, so I decided to do a silly one, and decided to write a little story based on the cards from that pile.

Pick whichever picture you feel more attracted to and skip to that pile.

PILE 1

eight of pentacles (reversed), seven of pentacles, seven of wands (reversed), ace of swords, the hermit.

In this fairy tale... You were a noble who fell from grace.

Your family was blamed for something that was not their fault, causing you all to be stripped of your titles, your lands, and your wealth. Your parents decided to move to the countryside looking to give you a good life. You grew up to recent what happened, even though you were very young at the time and barely remembered the life of luxury. Set on helping your family and getting revenge, on your teenage years you decided that you wanted to become a knight, so you could clear your family name and bring to justice not only the people responsable for your family downfall, but everyone else that looked to bend the laws to their will; so your started training day and night, leaving everything aside to try and get a shot at achieving it. Sadly, you had to give up on your dreams when your father passed away, leaving only you and your mother to bring money to the, now bigger, family. Your mother went to the city to sell fish, fruits and vegetables while you stayed home with your little siblings, taking care of them, while also fishing and attending to the garden on your mothers absence, so she'll never run out of things to sell. Eventually you learned to make peace with your new life, the desire of vengeance and the sense of justice never left your heart, but you compromised with yourself and decided to left the past in the past, just like your father would've wanted.

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

PILE 2

ace of wands, four of swords (reversed), the lovers, queen of swords, seven of wands.

In this fairy tale... you are the queen of the people.

You were born a simple peasant, on the rich end of the spectrum, but still one. All the people in your town knew who you were, spoke fondly of you, and appreciated that your family used part of their money to help the community. Over time, your family gained more status and money, which led them to attend some higher society events, and in one of them you met the one who you will call the love of your life. At first it was a simple one sided crush, but eventually you and that handsome man you loved so much, started dating, in that moment he also confessed that he was the prince of the kingdom, and promised to one day make you his queen. Time passed, and eventually everyone in the kingdom knew that the prince's heart was stolen by a peasant, which bought a lot of jealousy and ill will from the nobles of the kingdom, and even though that made you a little worried, your lover assured you no one will dare to lay a finger on his fiance or her family. You got married, moved to the capital, and lived the perfect fairy tale, you even got pregnant with your first child not too long after. Eventually, the king died, leaving the queen alone on the throne; in her grieve, she decided to resign and leave the position of queen to you. With one kid now, and another on the way, you started to get anxious, after all you still felt like a peasant on the inside despised of what it looked like from the outside. "Am I really fit to be a queen?", "would the people even like me?", and other similar questions clouded your mind, in an attempt to calm yourself down you walked to the castle's garden were you met the former queen. She could tell something was wrong, and when you told her your worries, she just agreed to help you and guide you. With her wisdom and your own, you overcame your insecurities and put your mind on becoming the best queen you could be. You helped a lot of people along your life, both noble and peasant alike, earning the people's hearts and appreciation; just like when you were just a little girl, all those years back in your little hometown.

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

PILE 3

ace of wands, two of wands, ten of pentacles, knight of pentacles, two of cups.

In this fairy tale... you are a successful merchant.

You come from a family of merchants, not very successful, but just enough to make your life comfortable. Early on in your life, you had the opportunity to marry into a noble wealthy family, all your family was very exited for you and your future so the made the preparations to the wedding. As the date grow closer, so did your doubts about it, you weren't sure if you loved your future spouse or were only marrying them because your family wanted to. At the day of the wedding you couldn't do it, and broke the news to everyone while on the altar, and apologized to everyone. Your now ex's family were reasonably angry at you, and your own family was a little disappointed on you for not choosing the simple path to a comfortable life, but at the end they respected your decision. When your father passed away you inherited the family business, and with a lot of hard work you managed to bring even more money to the business and your family. When you had a carrear build for you, and the respect of the other merchants, your found a lover who cherished and respected you for the rest of your life. They were everything you always wanted in a partner, reliable, loyal, patient, ambitious, and hardworking. Together you took the business to new highs, and even started to make deals with other kingdoms oversea. You married your lover, and lived a very happy life.

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

This was all, let me know what you think! English is not my first language so, if there are any mistakes please let me know so I can fix them.

I'm not familiar with this type of format, but I'll try my best to give you guys quality readings. I have some plans of more silly and love related readings so depending on how it goes for this one, I'll try to get them out as soon as possible!

Bye byeee ✨

(Master list) (make topic suggestions)

#pick a card #tarot #tarot cards #tarot community #tarot reading #pac #divination #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot reader #free tarot #fairy tale #blush'starot

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1800-fight-me · 1 year

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The Phantom of the Red Keep

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Phantom of the Opera AU

Rating: M (Mature)- as a general rule for my blog, minors please do not interact!

Warnings: Gothic horror romance vibes, violence, very sensual scenes but nothing explicit, jealous and possessive aemond- this is not what we would consider a healthy relationship lol

Word count: About 8.5k

Synopsis: You are haunted by the phantom of the Red Keep and he is determined to make you his.

Author’s note: This is not an exact retelling of Phantom of the Opera, it is based off of the vibes and loose plot, though I took a ton of liberties and of course the villain gets the happy ending in my version. This has been long awaited and its finally here and I am so excited!! I hope this lives up to the hype! Thank you so much @anepitomeofgrace for the mood board!

Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

You moved into the Red Keep when you were a young girl after your mother died and your father was given a position in the king’s small council. Everyone warned you of the ghosts that reside there.

But you never were very afraid of ghosts.

When a phantom voice began to speak to you through the walls at night, you were not afraid but rather enchanted.

Your ghost had a beautiful voice, soft and low, as he whispered secrets to you from within the castle walls.

Years passed and you told no one of your encounters with the phantom of the Red Keep, preferring instead to keep his existence to yourself.

You used what he taught you to your advantage. People often questioned where and how you learned to navigate the political landscape of the capital city so well and how you seemed to know everything that happened within it, but you would not reveal your ghost to others.

He was your watchful eye, your teacher, your companion in loneliness, your salvation.

You often wondered if he was truly a ghost or if the rumors of the scarred and reclusive prince were true.

But you never dared to ask, scared you would offend and lose him.

You heard his voice even in your slumber, the soft lilt of his accent as he led you into dreams, dark and deep and often of him.

He called your name, voice low and seductive, and you smiled.

“Tell me of your day,” he ordered as you unfastened the bodice of your dress in preparation to retire for the night.

You never worried if your phantom could see you in states of undress for a part of you would always belong to him, and besides, he was a ghost, or so you believed.

“Lord Stark did in fact attempt to make a move like you warned me he would,” you said softly as you slipped the dress off your body.

“Hm,” the unpleased hum echoed through the room.

“I managed to dissuade his efforts,” you said softly.

“Your father will not tolerate your insolence for much longer,” he mused.

You sighed as you pulled on your nightgown.

“I do not wish to marry.” The end of the sentence, ‘anyone but you’ went unspoken.

For how do you confess to a ghost that you love him?

The soft chuckle heard made your heart thump in your chest as you slipped beneath the sheets of your bed.

“You will eventually be forced,” he said.

“But you can still help me to delay the inevitable, yes?”

“Of course, my sweet,” he promised.

You sighed in contentment.

“Will you tell me another story about dragons to help me sleep?”

You drifted off to sleep with images of fire breathing dragons in your sleep and the warmth of your phantom’s voice in your ears.

———————-

“How interesting,” you said and your bored tone betrayed your true feelings as Lord Greyjoy rambled on about the types of wood his ships were built from.

You wished you could steal one of his ships and sail far away from him.

You took another sip of your wine and withheld your sigh as the man, oblivious to your impatience, began speaking of sails and the type of material used to create them.

You wondered how long you would have to suffer through this before you could escape to the library.

The quiet refuge of books was your favorite place in the Red Keep. The fact that your phantom often visited you there only played a small part in why you loved it so.

“Lord Lannister!” you said in surprise as he approached you and the dreadfully dull Lord sitting on the bench next to you.

“Hello, my lady,” he said kindly and nodded to Lord Greyjoy.

“I was wondering if I could perhaps steal your attentions for a short while,” the handsome man said.

“Of course!” you said all too excitedly.

He smirked.

“I am sorry, Lord Greyjoy,” you said, your tone full of sincerity that you didn’t feel.

“It is alright, I shall have to finish telling you about the wonders of my ships another time,” he said kindly.

“Absolutely,” you agreed and took Lord Lannister’s hand.

He led you down the path through the gardens and once you were certain you were no longer in hearing distance you looked up at him.

At the twinkle of amusement you saw in his eye, you both began to laugh.

“That man is such a bore,” he said and you giggled once more in agreement.

“I hope it is alright that I came to rescue you from his clutches,” he said dramatically and teasingly.

“It is more than alright,” you said with a smile.

“My hero,” you teased and he smirked once again.

You had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Lord Lannister as he walked you through the gardens and eventually deposited you in the library.

He was very kind, if a bit arrogant, but you found that you did not mind his company and he respected you as a person which was much more than many of them men vying for your hand could offer.

Unfortunately your afternoon did not get better as you anticipated, for you never heard the sound of your ghost’s voice as you read quietly in your secluded corner of the library.

He did not visit you that night either.

You tossed and turned and struggled to sleep without the comfort of his gentle voice.

When sleep eventually took you, you dreamt of an angel with a halo of white hair who beckoned you to follow him into darkness.

———————-

The next day Lord Lannister invited you to dine with him, which you accepted.

You tried to be realistic. Your yearning for a man you were not sure even existed would not help you in this life.

Your father would marry you to someone soon and at least the man before you was relatively kind and not positively tedious to spend time with.

You even managed to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes at the arrogant statements he made from time to time so as to not bruise his ego.

He was kind enough and you were prepared to settle, so when he moved to kiss you, you allowed him.

It was a short, proper kiss and did not arouse any sort of feelings within you.

But you smiled at him and thanked him for walking you to your rooms before you found solace within them.

You sighed as the door shut behind you and you were once again alone.

Your favorite voice whispered your name and the hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

You were not alone.

“You are back,” you said breathlessly.

“I did not leave,” he said, his voice hard.

“I… you did not speak to me last night,” you said.

“You betrayed me,” he said and anger colored his tone.

“No, I-“ you protested but were cut off by him.

“No? What do you call it when you smile and bat your pretty eyelashes at a man? What do you call it when you allow another man to kiss you?”

His voice was low and dangerous, full of anger. It should have frightened you but instead you felt indignant.

“It is not as if you kiss me! I do not even know if you are real or a figment of my imagination!”

“Do I not feel real enough to you when you touch yourself to the sound of my voice?” he growled out.

You gasped in shock.

“Do not bother pretending, my sweet. You are not as subtle as you think you are,” he said.

Tears of embarrassment pricked your eyes.

“I am real, pretty girl. Do you not remember how all the suitors you despised seemed to suddenly disappear?”

“That was you?” you asked in surprise.

You sat heavily down at the end of your bed.

“Of course, I protect what is mine. You are mine, are you not?”

“Yes,” you breathed out, spellbound.

“Good girl. You shall have your proof of my existence soon enough, but you must be patient. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes, absolutely,” you said hurriedly, excitedly.

You could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Wonderful.”

You breathed a sigh of relief that you were no longer the object of his temper, and instead back in his good graces.

As you fell asleep that night you pondered on what he revealed to you in that conversation. You were giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting proof of your silent protector.

———————-

“I wish to tell you something,” you said to Lord Lannister as he sat with you in the castle gardens.

“Do tell,” he said and his eyes danced with amusement.

“When my mother passed away she promised she would send me an angel to care for me and watch over me.”

“What a beautiful promise,” he said, clearly placating you.

You sighed.

“Yes, and her words came true. There is an angel that protects me,” you said.

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“That must be a comforting thought,” he said and patted your hand as if you were a child.

“No, not just a comforting thought, there is a presence that protects me from those that wish me harm,” you said urgently.

“Is that why so many of your suitors have disappeared? I have heard rumors of you being cursed, but I have never been afraid of silly superstitions. I also heard ridiculous gossip of ghosts and recluse princes when I came here, there is no need to put stock in such things.”

You furrowed your brow.

“No, there is-“

“Lord Stark!” the Lannister man exclaimed as he saw his friend across the gardens.

You sighed in frustration as you watched him stand and bound towards Lord Stark and embrace him.

The two began speaking and you were quickly forgotten.

The topic was never raised with him again.

———————-

Your nerves were high as your lady’s maid dressed you for the masquerade ball.

Feasts, parties, and balls were all commonplace during this time of year in which lords and ladies often courted and marriage alliances were made.

Though, a masquerade ball was a first. You were excited. You found the whole idea rather romantic.

“Are you certain about this dress?” you asked Reyna.

“Of course, my lady! You look absolutely beautiful. The men will fall at your feet,” she said with a sweet smile.

You really only cared about impressing your phantom and you hoped against hope that tonight would be the night you finally got the proof he spoke of.

You smoothed the front of your emerald green dress as she brought you the delicate black lace mask.

You pulled it on carefully and Reyna made a few small adjustments before she declared you perfect.

You thanked her and with a grin you made your way towards the great hall.

The moment you entered, you were enchanted. Musicians played ethereally beautiful songs and as you strode through the hall you were fascinated by people’s outfits and masks that bordered on costumes.

Elaborate decorations made the room appear to sparkle and shimmer.

A servant handed you a glass of wine and you sipped on it as you made your way through the bustling crowd.

Soon, however, the dancing began and you smiled happily as you watched the men and women twirl.

A man approached you and asked you to dance, you grinned as you accepted, and quickly determined him to be Lord Greyjoy.

Though he was not your favorite lord, the music was quick paced, as were your steps and you were happy to join the merriment, no matter the company. It was not as if he could speak much to you anyhow as the dance was quick paced and required a switching of partners frequently.

Man after man danced with you and your smile was as wide as the stretch of the sea.

You felt a prickle on the back of your neck, like a heavy gaze was upon you, but as you looked around you could see nothing but strangers in masks.

At the end of the last fast song you were spun by Lord Lannister and another man caught you.

The crowd clapped as the song ended and as you caught your breath you looked up at the man who held you.

You did not recognize the face of the handsome stranger who smirked down at you, so why was there something about him that felt so achingly familiar?

He wore all black, with the intricate embellishments on the cloth a dark green, the exact shade as your dress.

His hair, a shocking silvery white color, was straight and pulled half back as it cascaded down his back and across his chest. It was much longer than most men keep their hair, and it was beautiful.

The left half of his face was completely covered with an intimidating black mask that appeared to have a sapphire within it rather than a hole for the eye to see through.

The right side of his face was bare and you marveled at the handsomeness of the sharp planes of his nose, cheekbones, jaw, and chin.

His visible eye was a startling yet otherworldly gorgeous violet color.

His smirking lips were plush and naturally curved upwards.

You had never seen such unique beauty in a man.

You were certain your expression was wonderstruck as you stared up at him.

The next song began, a much slower melody, and he held you close to his warm body as he swayed you both to the beat of it.

“I do not believe we have met,” you said primly as you attempted to muster up your wits.

He smiled at you before he spun you.

He caught you and pressed your back to his front. As he leaned down, his hair fell across your shoulder and his lips grazed your ear.

You shivered in response as your eyes fluttered closed.

His large hands spanned much of your waist and you covered his hands with your own, wishing to keep him close.

“Are you certain of that?” he whispered in your ear.

Your spine went rod straight, the hairs on the back of your neck stood, and you sucked in a gasping breath as you recognized the voice of the man that held you.

He chuckled darkly, that laugh that you often heard in your dreams.

“I am not certain of much of anything anymore,” you breathed out.

“Not even of my promises?” he teased as one hand moved further down your waist and the other up high enough that his thumb grazed the bottom of your breasts.

Your breath hitched even as your eyes drifted closed once more and your head fell back against his shoulder.

“You are the only thing I believe in anymore,” you murmured.

“Hm,” he hummed in satisfaction at your words.

One hand gripped your waist and the other slipped up your arm, across your collar bones to rest gently around your throat, as if his hand were another necklace to adorn you.

“You are most beautiful this night, my sweet,” he purred.

You breathed in his warm masculine scent and wished to stay in his arms forever.

He spun you back around to face him and he caught you with hands around the small of your waist and your hands found their place on his chest.

“You…you are much more handsome than all my wildest dreams. Why would you hide this face from me?”

You could not look away from his gaze, it was as if he had a power to trap you with him, though you would never desire to escape him.

You placed your hand on his cheek and did not miss the way it made him suck in a breath, as if he were just as affected by you as you were by him.

You did not know how many songs had passed since you were in his arms, but you never wanted the music to end for fear of no longer being pressed against him.

The entire room melted away and there was only you and your phantom made flesh as he danced with you to music of your own making.

“There are things you do not know of, that I have made efforts to protect you from,” he answered you finally.

You furrowed your brow in confusion and as you looked away, you realized it was the first time you had looked away from his face since he took you into his arms.

You hadn’t realized that multiple songs had come and go and still he held you. You hadn’t realized that most of the eyes in the room were on you, curiously watching you and the mysterious man.

“I have proof now of your existence. Tell me everything, or do you not wish to make me yours?” you asked as you looked back at him.

He pursed his lips as he stared deep into your soul.

“Of course I wish to make you mine,” he breathed out.

He sounded just as entranced by you as you were with him.

You reached up and softly grazed your fingers against his sharp cheekbone.

“Then show me all of you, my phantom,” you whispered as your fingers curled around the edge of his mask.

So enraptured by your touch and your presence it took him a moment longer than it should have to react and you had nearly removed the mask from his face and saw a flash of a jagged scar before he yanked himself back from you.

He pulled the mask from your hand and covered the side of his face once again as he stepped back, his chest heaving with desperate breaths.

You stumbled backwards from the momentum of his sudden movements, and strong hands from behind caught you and with a glance back you realized it was Lord Lannister.

Your breathing was also heavy as you turned back and gazed upon the object of your affections in shock.

Regret flashed in his eye, but he turned and quicker than you could think of anything to say, he disappeared into the large crowd and was soon gone.

He was gone as quickly as he appeared and your eyes stung at the near rejection.

“Are you alright?” Lord Lannister asked you and you realized his hands were still around your shoulders where he had caught you.

“Yes, quite,” you said and the shakiness in your voice did nothing to assure either of you of the statement’s truthfulness.

As your attention once again found the room around you, you then heard the hisses of angry whispers of the people around you.

“Monster.”

“Did you see that horrid scar?”

“Why would she let him touch her?”

“Disgusting.”

“His eye….”

“Recluse prince.”

“Aemond Targaryen,” one man said and you whipped your head around to him.

“What did you say?” you demanded.

“My lady, that must have been Aemond Targaryen, the recluse prince. Only the gods know what would have caused him to slither out from his hiding place,” the old man said worriedly.

You huffed and turned to leave.

“Perhaps I should accompany you to your room to ensure you arrive there safely,” Lord Lannister offered.

You nodded absentmindedly and took his proffered arm.

As you exited the hall you let out a sigh of relief to be away from such a crowd of hateful and discontented Lords and Ladies.

“I fear you put yourself in danger by dancing with such a man, my lady,” Lord Lannister finally said after he gave you several moments of quiet to collect yourself.

“He meant me no harm,” you said softly.

“You know nothing of his intentions,” the man said.

Finally you reached your door.

“Thank you, Lord Lannister, I appreciate your help and concern,” you said in an attempt to dismiss him.

He nodded, and he clearly understood your message.

“Goodnight, my lady,” he said.

“Goodnight, my lord,” you replied and turned and walked into your room.

You shut the door securely behind you before you slid to the floor and released the tears you had been holding back.

You could no longer withhold the torrent of mixed emotions you felt that so overwhelmed you.

You heard nothing from your ghost that night and as you fell into a fitful sleep, nightmares plagued you.

You dreamt of a demon that chased you and all you could see of it were two sapphire colored eyes that glowed in the depth of darkness you were lost in.

———————-

Your phantom did not find you for the next two days and despite being surrounded by people often, most frequently suitors who wished to woo you, you found yourself incredibly lonely.

Each night when you entered your room you called out for him but only silence greeted you.

By the third day you resolved yourself to try and move on. It was easier said than done.

Now that you had actually met the man that belonged to the voice you idolized, it was much harder to prevent yourself from loving him.

It was as if he was in your head, had burrowed himself in your heart, captured your soul and held it in the palm of his hands.

How were you supposed to just let go?

You pondered on all these things as you attempted to relax in the bath in your chambers.

Your father was pressuring you to make a decision soon. You were lucky that he even allowed you a say in who you would marry, though you knew he was partial to Lord Lannister. Thankfully, he agreed with your assessment that Lord Greyjoy was an absolute bore.

He was not present at the masquerade when you danced with your phantom, but he had surely heard the gossip by now.

It would not bode well for you.

You wished to hear your ghost’s voice so desperately you feared you were hallucinating the sound.

But there it was again, your name, said with such gentleness and care.

“Are you really there?” you asked hopefully.

“Yes, my sweet,” he said after a moment too long of silence.

You sighed in relief.

“I have missed you,” you said.

“Truthfully?” he asked and there was vulnerability in his voice.

“Of course,” you said passionately.

He did not reply and you grew concerned he did not believe you.

You were suddenly grateful for the suds and bubbles in the bathtub for fear he could see you. It was something you had never been self conscious about before, but now that you had seen the handsome man himself and knew he was real, you were more worried about what he had seen.

Even still, you said, “Please do not hide from me any longer, I wish to see you when you speak to me.”

“Why would you wish to see a monster?” he asked harshly.

Your eyes prickled with tears at his pain.

“I do not believe people’s words that you are a monster. You, who has protected me at every turn, are a good man,” you said gently.

The oversized portrait beside your bed creaked and opened as if it were a door.

You gasped as your phantom stood in the darkened entryway.

A mask still adorned half his face, though this time it was white and interestingly there was still a sapphire embedded in it where his eye should be.

You sunk lower into the bath and gripped its edges as you stared back at him.

“You cannot believe that about a creature of such darkness,” he said.

“I do. I rather like the dark,” you said and a small smirk showed on his beautiful lips.

“Come closer,” you said as you reached your hand out to him.

He walked slowly over to you and knelt next to the bathtub.

You placed your hand gently on the side of his face and his eye fluttered closed while he took a shaky breath.

“Your name,” you said, your voice soft and tentative. “Is it Aemond as some have speculated?”

He made a pleased sound low in his throat as he nuzzled his face into your hand.

He ran his nose across your palm and the veins at your wrist.

Your heartbeat spiked.

“You have no idea how long I have yearned to hear my name fall from your perfect lips, my sweet,” he murmured.

Your breathing was heavy as you looked at your phantom, your angel, your Aemond.

“Aemond, I apologize for attempting to unmask you in front of a room full of people. Truthfully, I forgot we were not the only two people in the world,” you said gently as your fingers traced his cheek and lips and soaked in the warmth of his skin.

“Hm,” he hummed in pleasure.

“Will you bare yourself to me now?” you asked.

You wanted to add that it was only fair as you were currently mostly bare in front of him.

Though the bath was a milky color from the soaps and scents, and suds still covered the surface, you were certain his all knowing eye could see much of your glistening wet skin.

His eye blinked open and he looked at you, his gaze raw and full of emotion.

The sound of knuckles rapping at your door broke your focus from him.

“My lady?” your lady’s maid called out.

You looked across the room to your door.

He quickly stood and disappeared behind the portrait door once again without another word, as if he truly were a ghost.

You sighed in frustration before you called out, “Yes? Come in.”

“My lady, I forgot to bring you your fresh bed sheets, I am so sorry! I will only be a moment,” she said as she rushed to your bed.

“It is quite alright, Reyna,” you reassured as her anxieties often became too high.

She smiled at you and quickly started her task.

You sunk lower into the now cold bath and cursed your rotten luck.

———————-

Your father ran out of patience and betrothed you to Lord Lannister.

You sat at the celebratory feast and tried not to look too sullen.

When the queen congratulated you, you flinched slightly, now that you knew it was her son you were so desperately in love with you felt even more guilty.

You worried the news would break him.

Even still, you did your best to be graceful and poised as many people offered you their excitement on your happy news.

You didn’t mind Lord Lannister, truthfully, but he did not bewitch your very soul as Aemond Targaryen did.

There was a commotion that caught your attention, a fire had started in the opposite end of the grand hall.

You gasped and watched as the men rushed to put it out.

A hand grasped your wrist and began to tug you backwards.

Your eyes widened in surprise as your phantom pulled you into the nearby darkened hallway.

A mask still covered half his face and his expression was hard.

He pressed your back against the cold stone wall with the weight of his body against yours.

Your breath sped and your heartbeat spiked.

Not from fear, no, from the feel of the long planes of his warm body against yours.

He placed a hand against the wall on either side of your head and caged you in.

“Do you wish to marry him?” he asked.

“No,” you breathed out, your focus again on his lips as he spoke.

He leaned down so his lips grazed your ear and asked, “What do you desire?”

You shivered.

“You,” you practically moaned as your eyes closed.

He hauled his body off yours and you whimpered softly at the loss of his warmth.

He smirked.

“Then wait for me, I shall come for you, my sweet. I promise,” he said and you quickly nodded in agreement.

He turned his head to look back down the hallway at the great hall.

His hair swished as he moved and you longed to run your fingers through the white silken strands.

“They have most likely put out the fire by now. Go before you are missed,” he said.

“Alright,” you said, and before you tore yourself away from him you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He hummed in pleasure and you attempted to memorize the sound, beautiful as it was, just like everything about him.

When you reentered the great hall, the chaos was settling and no one had noticed your brief absence, not even your betrothed.

———————-

Most afternoons you could be found in your favorite secluded corner of the library.

Unfortunately, your betrothed knew that and often interrupted your reading.

Today however, you were blissfully alone as you reread your favorite book.

Sunlight filtered through the nearby window and bathed you and your novel in a warm glow.

A cup of tea and a little snack were long forgotten as the plot enraptured you and you curled up into a plush armchair.

A whisper of your name slid through the contented air and alerted you to the presence of another.

“Aemond?” you whispered back.

“Come with me,” he crooned.

You turned and saw him. He had revealed another secret hallway, this time hidden by a bookshelf.

His beauty was otherworldly and you felt as if you were in a trance as you set your book down, stood, and walked towards him.

You took his hand and allowed him to lead you into the dark and watched as he shut the bookshelf door behind you.

He lifted a torch off the stone wall and held it before the both of you, though you suspected it was only for your benefit.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

The thought occurred to you that you should have asked before you followed him, but logic was never your strong suit when it came to decisions about your phantom.

You could never resist his pull.

“To show you more of myself,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You walked through winding corridors until he stopped at another portrait-door. Though, this time your view of it was from the inside.

He opened it, stepped down himself, and then with hands on your waist, helped you navigate the large step down.

Though, he stood so close that your body practically slid down the length of his as you did so.

With your hands on his strong shoulders you stared at him.

His gaze flickered down to your lips and for a moment, an excruciating wonderful moment, you thought he might kiss you.

But he released you and took a step back, his breaths as rapid as your own.

With him not right in front of you, you could see the room you stood in.

It was dark, the dark curtains drawn completely so as to not allow any light within.

Candelabras adorned the furniture to offer the light your eyes so desperately needed.

It was also clearly the room of a prince, grand and ornately decorated.

Black and emerald green silk covered the large canopy bed.

The other decorations matched his chosen colors.

You slipped from his hands and walked around the room, your fingers traced the surfaces as you took it all in.

It was all so Aemond. But there were pieces of you as well.

A vase full of your favorite flowers. Stacks of your favorite novels were on both his bedside table and his desk. They were mixed with books you did not recognize, ones that must be his favorites.

Crumpled papers took up space on the desk, with your name scrawled at the top of the one on a stack of blank papers, as if he had been trying to write you a letter.

There was an easel with paint supplies in front of the window, finished paintings leaned against the wall, turned around so you could not see them.

The painting drying on the easel, however, was of you. You gasped softly.

It was a romantic view of you in the bath as you had been the other night, and there was such love and tenderness in your face as you looked at the viewer of the portrait, the painter of the portrait, truthfully.

There was a halo of light around your body, every stretch of your skin that was visible had a brightness about it, the more intimate parts of your body covered by the water in the bath.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you realized this is how he viewed you. An angel, just the same as you perceived him.

He was your angel of darkness and you were his angel of light.

“Oh Aemond,” you breathed out.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that many of the completed paintings you could not see were of you as well.

You knew the reality of what you saw, this was not just love, it was obsession.

Logically, you should be scared, but you could not bring yourself to be anything but flattered.

There was a mirror in the corner, but it was covered by black cloth as if he did not wish to see himself, your heart cracked at the thought.

He had been watching you warily as you explored his space and learned more about him.

“I want you to know the reality of what you would be getting into if you choose me, my sweet. A life of darkness with someone most consider a monster,” he said as he leaned against the wall and looked down at the floor.

You strode towards him and placed a hand on his cheek and led him to look at you.

“That is your version of reality? In my reality I see a kindhearted man who cares for me deeply and is offering me a life of affection. I do not care for others' opinions and would like to help you heal from the hurt they have inflicted,” you said quietly and tenderly.

He breathed out in surprise and brought you closer, so you were pressed against him.

“You say such kind words but you have not seen all of me, you do not know why others fear me. There is more darkness to me than you know,” he said lowly, but still he moved his face closer and nudged his nose against yours.

“Then show me,” you begged once again, “and let me accept you completely.”

His lips were so close to yours that you could almost feel them.

You ached for him, had ached for him for so long, that you lost yourself, your self control, and leaned up to brush your lips against his.

But, he pulled back right before your lips were able to meet.

You let out a shuddering breath, same as he did as he pulled his face back enough to look at you.

He intertwined his fingers with yours and lifted your hand to the mask he wore.

With a slight nod he gave you permission to remove it from his face but still said, “Are you certain? This would bring you past the point of no return.”

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” you said fervently as you stared at him with your heart in your throat.

He swallowed and dropped his hand from yours to let you finally take off the mask.

You gently curled your fingers around the edges and his eye fluttered closed, another indication of his nervousness, as if he could not handle seeing your expression once you saw him.

You slowly pulled it off and revealed the other half of his face.

A long jagged scar stretched from above his eye down across his cheek.

Instead of a left eye, there was a sapphire in place of where his eye should be.

You realized you were mistaken before when you thought that the mask held the sapphire, it was in fact a replacement to the eye that was missing.

Though the scar marred his skin, it did not take away from his handsomeness. You could understand how the scar and sapphire eye could intimidate others, but you could not understand how anyone could describe him as a monster.

“Beautiful,” you murmured as you cupped his cheek and ran your thumb across the scar.

His eye fluttered open and as he looked at you, his perfect lips parted in shock. You knew he felt that the disfigurement was a reflection of his soul and expected rejection. Though he had subjected himself to the potential rejection anyway, because of his feelings for you.

“You cannot mean that,” he said and the words broke your heart.

You kissed his cheek, his scar, right below the sapphire eye and he gasped softly.

“My phantom, my protector, my Aemond,” you said as you trailed your lips across his cheek, across the length of the scar.

“I absolutely mean it,” you said passionately and he groaned as he, at long last, pressed his lips to yours.

His plush lips were soft as he pressed them firmly against yours.

He made a low pleased hum as your lips moved against his and you tangled your fingers in his hair.

It was not the sort of kiss that sparked a fiery passion, no, it was slower moving than that, deeper. The kind of kiss that changed the both of you intricately, completely, eternally.

The kiss molted the love within you and him like lava and fuzed your souls together.

When you pulled back and ended the kiss he said, “I love you, completely, my angel of light.”

“And I love you, darkness and all,” you replied and kissed him once more.

———————-

The day of your wedding to Lord Lannister had arrived and you were a bundle of nerves.

Aemond had sworn to you that you would not have to go through with this wedding. He assured you that he would make you his and his alone.

You believed him, you just did not realize that he would wait until the last minute to do so.

Your lady’s maid Reyna cinched up your wedding gown as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

Your expression was sullen and you felt as if you were being readied for your funeral.

Aemond would intervene as he promised, right?

You had tried to talk to your father, to make him understand where your feelings lay, what your heart desired, but he refused to listen.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Reyna said as she finished prepping you and stepped back to view her work.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“What is wrong?” she asked as she took your hands.

You shook your head and refused to let your eyes fill with tears.

You must believe in your phantom’s promise, he had protected you at every turn and you had to believe him that he would do so now.

“Lord Lannister seems kind,” Reyna said gently.

You nodded.

“Yes. Yes he does,” you agreed as you took a deep breath to calm your nerves.

Your father arrived and escorted you to the sept.

The sept was grand as always, and as it was sunset, lit completely with hundreds of candles.

A large crowd of lords and ladies filled the room and watched you as you walked towards a future of shackles.

Your heart plummeted as you saw Lord Lannister there waiting for you.

He smiled at you as your father walked you towards him, escorted you towards a loveless life. You could not force yourself to smile back. Your breath was short and it felt as if there was a weight on your chest. Your legs shook as you walked and finally you stood before Lord Lannister and the septon.

The Septon cleared his throat and the crowd’s murmurs and whispers hushed and it was suddenly all too quiet.

You could hear the pounding of your own heart.

The septon opened his mouth to speak, to begin the ceremony, when another booming voice filled the sept.

“I object to this marriage. This woman is spoken for. She belongs to me,” the voice of your ghost echoed through the room, through your very soul.

You gasped in relief.

The sept doors blew open by an unexpected and terrifying gust of wind that blew out all the candles and thrust the grand room into darkness.

There were gasps of horror and shock as well as screams in fear.

You grinned.

“This wedding is over,” the voice announced and you whipped your head around as you realized where the origin of the sound was.

The phantom of the Red Keep stood behind the Septon.

A fire suddenly lit behind him, illuminating him, and another round of gasps and screams began.

Aemond stood, presence intense and intimidating, dressed all in black. He wore nothing to cover his scar and sapphire eye.

Your body moved of its own accord and you managed to take one step towards him, when an arm gripped you around your waist and hauled you backwards.

Lord Lannister shoved you behind him and pulled out his sword.

He pointed it at Aemond. You lurched forward, but he held you back with his arm.

Aemond quickly pulled out his own sword.

The septon scrambled away.

Guards began to stream into the sept, but the fire spread, as if controlled, and circled around the three of you, and kept everyone away.

“You have no claim on this woman! She is my betrothed!” Lord Lannister yelled.

Aemond smirked, a devilish sort of smile.

“That is certainly not true, is it, my sweet? I have a strong claim on you, do I not?” Aemond asked you as he leaned to the side to meet your eyes around his enemy’s body.

“Yes,” you breathed out, entranced by his presence.

Lord Lannister whipped his head around to look at you in shock.

“He is a monster. Let me save you from him. I am your chosen hero, remember?” he said fervently.

You shook your head.

“He is my protector, I tried to tell you this before. My heart belongs to him,” you replied.

“No,” he said angrily and shook his head.

“No,” he repeated himself, “you will not whore yourself out to this vile demon. You are my betrothed.”

He attacked your love. You gasped as they crossed swords and the sound of clanging steel echoed.

You stepped back, as close as you could get to the edge of the circle of fire without burning yourself, and did not know what to do.

Others watched the fight through the fire, helpless to assist, and did nothing but spectate.

The men fought and it was clear that despite Aemond’s missing eye, he was the superior skilled swordfighter.

You felt powerless to help. The fight did not last long, for Aemond soon sliced a shallow cut across Lord Lannister’s chest and then disarmed him.

He held the tip of his sword to his opponent’s throat as he breathed heavily and gritted his teeth. Hate gleamed in his one good eye and you knew your betrothed represented all the hate and suffering Aemond had endured since his eye was so savagely taken.

“Stop,” you gasped.

He turned his head to meet your gaze and the look in his eye softened.

“You do not have to kill him,” you said, “just take me. Let us be together. Let us leave this place behind.”

He pursed his lips, a war fought inside his mind, before he nodded and removed his sword from Lord Lannister’s throat even as he kicked the other sword away so it would be completely out of reach.

You ran to him and threw yourself in his arms.

He kept his sword pointed at your former betrothed, but hugged you back with his other arm.

Lord Lannister held up his hands and nodded, conceding and admitting his defeat.

Aemond turned his head and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I want it to be known here and now that this woman did choose me willingly. Though I know you will indeed ignore my words, there need be no monster hunt, she and I wish to leave peacefully,” Aemond announced.

The crowd stared in shock as you pulled his face down for a passionate kiss.

Your love raged like the fire that surrounded you.

He was yours and you were his.

“Take me,” you begged him as your lips broke apart.

The last thing you saw was the uptilt of his lips into a smirk before the room was plunged into darkness and then there was only the sensation of falling.

You splashed into deep water and strong hands pulled you up.

“We must hurry,” your lover said as he helped you swim.

You looked up and as the ceiling closed above you, you could see that the entire sept seemed to have lit up in flames once more.

He led you to the edge of the canal and hauled you up out of the water.

He lit a torch he found on the wall and you could finally see.

“It will take them some time to put out the fire, but they will follow us as soon as they can,” Aemond said to you in a hushed and hurried tone as he helped you step into a small boat that floated upon the water. He handed you the torch and you held it as you took your seat and settled.

He soon followed and took the oars and rowed as quickly and powerfully as he could, his strength evident in the action.

He navigated the canals effectively and knew which turns to take in the winding and confusing darkness.

You stared at him as he did so and admired your phantom in the flickering light.

His hair was wet, his lips set in a hard and determined line, and the sapphire glimmered and gleamed.

You loved him, you wanted him, you were joyously happy he had saved you from a life you despised.

You smiled.

His gaze flickered to yours and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I love you,” you said quietly but strongly.

He smiled. A real, full smile, not a smirk or a half smile, a real full smile in which his lips stretched and you could see his teeth.

“And I love you, my sweet,” he eventually replied, the moment heavy with emotion.

“Thank you, for protecting me, my guardian angel,” you whispered.

He shook his head.

“Thank me when we are actually safe in our destination,” he said.

“Where is our destination?” you asked. You did not truly care about the answer, anywhere safe with him was perfect to you.

“There is an estate in the countryside owned by the Hightowers, my mother’s family, that has been gifted to us by my mother. Some sort of recompense for all I have endured from my father’s family, I suppose. We shall have to pretend to be Hightowers and it will be a simpler life than you are used to in King’s Landing, but it will be safe and I will protect you. I hope you find that suitable,” he said softly.

“Of course,” you said, “a life with you is all I desire.”

He smiled once more and it was your favorite sight in all the world.

“Good, I have arranged for a septon to be waiting there to wed us. If all goes well it will only be a few days' journey and then you will well and truly be my wife.”

You grinned and placed your hand on his knee as he continued to row. It took all your self control not to throw yourself into his arms and kiss him until neither of you could breathe anymore.

“I could not imagine anything more perfect, my love,” you replied.

The canals eventually deposited the two of you into the entrance of a river on the outskirts of the city.

Aemond climbed out of the boat and quickly helped you do the same.

Thankful for the cover of darkness, he snuck you to a stable where two horses awaited you both.

He pulled clothes out of the packed saddle bags and handed you a bundle.

“Can you help me?” you asked as you turned your back to him.

You heard a shuddering breath.

“Of course,” he said and began to unlace your wedding dress. He slowly pulled at the laces, and his fingers brushed your skin as he did so. You shivered, and you were not certain if it was from the cold air or desire for the ghost that stood behind you.

You slipped out of it and turned back to face him.

His gaze was dark and intense once again.

Your heartbeat stuttered.

Then you heard distant shouting, you were still being pursued.

“We must hurry,” he urged.

You swallowed your disappointment and nodded even as you began to remove the rest of your clothes.

He walked to the other side of the horses, to hide you from his view, and allowed you to finish changing.

You pulled on the new clothes, and realized he had picked out peasant clothes a man would wear, most likely to make you both as inconspicuous as possible.

You pulled on the fresh underclothes, the trousers and boots, and then the loose white shirt.

He rounded the horses, already fully changed with an eyepatch over his sapphire eye.

Your breath caught as he knelt before you and began to tie the laces of your boots.

You bit your lip as you watched him.

His nimble fingers moved quickly as he laced both shoes then stood to his full height before you.

He then laced up the front of your shirt, to hide your breasts, and his hands grazed them as he did so.

Your breathing was heavy as you watched him.

He nodded in satisfaction with his work then pulled two cloaks out of the saddle bags as well.

He pulled his cloak on and then helped you with yours.

Your hands caught his and you could not help yourself.

“Kiss me,” you breathed out.

He huffed in amusement before he pulled you in for a brief but firm kiss.

“Aemond, please,” you begged as he pulled back.

He gripped your waist and rested his forehead against yours.

“I will make you mine and give you everything you desire, my love,” he promised, “but you must exercise patience. We need to hurry, our lives are still at stake.”

You sighed and nodded.

He pulled your hood over your head and then tied his hair back and did the same.

With strong hands on your waist he helped you climb atop your horse and then mounted his own.

With the click of his tongue, he urged his horse forward and you followed his lead.

Soon, both your horses were galloping and you left the horror of King’s Landing far behind.

You journeyed into the darkness, but felt assured that there was light at the end of your travels for your phantom was there with you, and you would be together, forever, as you both desired, as was right.

You loved the man, the ghost, the so-called monster beside you. You loved your protector, the man who had maimed and killed for you, who guided you through the deepest darkness.

He was your angel, your salvation, the rest of your life.

He was yours and you were his, forever.

All was finally right in the world.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x fem!reader

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staytinyville · 9 months

Text

OUTLAW (6)

ATEEZ ot8 x Reader

Cowboy AU / Wild West

Series Masterlist (I strated adding the masterlist at the bottom of the post so you don't have to scroll back up!)

Warnings: None

There were only so many night shifts your parents would ever allow you to have. The rest of the week was spent sleeping once again back in your own bed. You did worry on occasions about how Yeosang was doing but you would just go and check on him during the day. Lucky for him things went smoothly and he was much better by the end of the week.

You had yet to see the other men again seeing as they only came at night. There was a day that your father had explained he heard some noises outside but just assumed it was some racoons or possums searching for food. The boys looked at you with scowls on their faces when you gave Jongho and Yunho an earful. There were no more noises the following days.

“It's been a week since those cops arrived from the capital and they haven't so much as said any reason for why they're here.” A patron of the saloon started.

“I'm sure it's something they want to keep a secret. So as to not scare the citizens.” Your father tried to defuse the tension.

“I think it has to do with that gang that's closing in.” Another person entered the conversation. “They said the last town they stopped at was robbed blind. All the cash in the bank was stolen right under their noses.”

“It wasn't the bank.” Someone else shook their head. “It was Harthorne's wealth. That jacked up man high on his own tobacco.”

You shook your head, picking up some of the money your father had in the register to move to a safe in the backroom. Two of your siblings were waiting at the front desk as you walked closer with the locked box of cash.

“Do you think the gang is coming here next?” Your sister asked.

“No.” Your oldest brother answered. “Cromer doesn't have overly wealthy men they would steal from.”

“We do have a mayor though.” Your mother butted in, eyebrows furrowed as she looked over some papers. “One who just raised our taxes.”

“Again?” Your brother shook his head.

“So it seems.” Your mother sighed.

“Hello.” All four of you turned your heads towards the person who had entered the lobby.

Your eyes went wide. “Yeosang?”

Your family looked at you confused.

“Goodday, sir.” Your mother politely told the man. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“May I speak to (Y/N) real quick?” He asked with a smile on his face.

You watched as your family looked at you shocked again. You only looked away from them, moving around the front desk to reach Yeosang.

“Oh you know my daughter? Of course you may speak with her!” Your mother spoke for you. “What a lovely young man.” She spoke to you as you passed.

You sighed deeply as you passed a chuckling Yeosang. The man bowed his head to your mother, making both her and your sister swoon. You watched from the front of the opened door as he skipped over to you with his hand behind his back. Once you were out of earshot from your nosey mother and sister, you frowned at the man.

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting.” You scolded.

“I'm fine, (Y/N). I just won't be doing anything tough.” The man laughed.

“Nothing tough? You went through the window, didn’t you?” You glared.

“Nothing gets past you.” He grinned. You rolled your eyes at him, looking around him to notice another man walking closer to the both of you.

Seonghwa was looking over a newspaper before folding it up when he reached the two of you. He gave you a smile, which you gladly returned. While you hadn’t had a proper conversation with the boys after cleaning up Yeosang, you had come to learn that he and Seonghwa were the nicer ones. At least the ones who didn’t seem to retort anything sarcastic when you spoke to them.

“What are you guys up to?” You asked.

“We are looking for some jobs.” Seonghwa answered. “We were hoping to ask your family if they had openings.”

“Maybe?” You shrugged. “You could ask.”

You watched them turn to each other, discussing things within themselves. If they were going to be working here did that mean the gang was going to be staying here for a bit longer? You had no clue where they were staying anyway but you assumed they didn’t have a roof to sleep under. It’s not like any hotel or inn would take in outlaws.

“If you're looking for jobs does that mean you guys are going to be living here?” You asked out loud.

“It's a bit more complicated than that.” Was all you got from Yeosang.

You sighed, knowing it wasn’t the right moment for them to tell you everything. Even if they did, you knew it was better to not know what they were up to. Who knows what kind of things you would be dragged down to.

“Sure.” You simply replied. “Come on. My father is in the saloon.”

You led the two through the doors to the side of the main lobby. Your father was tending to the glasses that need washing, lucky that no one was at the bar anymore. You felt the stares of the couple of men sitting around, watching the three of you grow closer to the bar.

“Hello.” Yeosang spoke up. “I have a few questions. I was wondering if you happened to be hiring?”

Your father stopped, eyebrows pulled together as he looked between you and the men. “Hiring? Ah, what skills do you have?”

“My friend here is a talent when it comes to cooking or bartending.” Yeosang offered. “It's his specialty. I myself have worked in financing. My family comes from a long line of bank tellers.”

Your own head snapped up to look at Yeosang, wondering if it was true or if it just something he made up to look good.

“What are you doing finding jobs here in Cromer then?” Your father frowned.

“We came from Aurora. But you see, we wanted to see the country, experience new things. (Y/N) is a good friend of ours and we wanted to work alongside her.”

You looked down to hide the giggle that wanted to escape. You were trying your hardest not to look flustered, but also how well this man seemed to be talking with your father. It seemed he had everything prepared. As you already knew, he was someone who knew how to work people.

“Both of you?” Your father questioned, looking over at you. With the look on his face, he really didn’t believe them to think that you had two male friends. Especially none that looked like them.

“Yes, well. We are all mutual friends.” Seonghwa smiled. While Yeosang knew how to talk, it seemed Seonghwa knew how to use his looks to make people feel persuaded. You understood now why these two were the nicer ones. They knew how to get what they wanted. The others looked like they used force more than anything.

“What are your names?” They had your father’s full attention which made you raise your brows.

“Kang Yeosang.” He held his hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

“Kang?” Your father’s eyes went wide. “You mean the bank?”

“That's the one.”

Kang Bank was the top bank in the nation which meant that half of the population used it. Your own family did as well. You frowned, wondering why Yeosang was with a gang. He was the heir to the people who worked well with money. He had a good life set for him. But yet, here he was fighting off an infected stab wound.

“Park Seonghwa. Pleasure.” He too shook your father’s hand.

“I'll have to talk it over with my wife if you don't mind.” Your father looked over at you, signaling that he wanted to speak to you.

“Not at all. We understand these things take time.” Seonghwa gave a bow of his head.

Your dad gave a smile of his own, pulling you out the saloon and towards the lobby. “Where on earth did you meet these men?” Your father shook you.

“Ah. When I went out a bit ago?” You tried to come up with something. While your father didn’t think much of it, to you it really sounded like you were questioning yourself.

“And you never told us! You're friends with a Kang! They own half of the country's money!” Your father exclaimed quietly, seeing as Yeosang was still on the other side of the saloon style doors.

“They sound pompous.” You frowned.

“You're friends with one.” Your father stressed.

“I don't know.” You sighed, thinking about the man. “I like Yeosang.”

“(Y/N) you cannot mess this up. Do you understand where you'd land if you married this man? You'll be set for life!” Your father exclaimed.

You grimaced when the thought of marriage was brought up again. Yeosang had left his own home for a reason, why on earth would he want to return. He had his reasoning and you assumed it wasn’t something good. If you knew anything about spoiled rich men was that they really didn’t want to do labor work. Yeosang didn’t seem that way.

“He wants to work in a hotel in a lesser known town. I don't think he has what you're thinking of.”

“You don't know that. Maybe he just wants experience. Everyone could use it. (Y/N) if you do this you won't have to worry about anything! He is the perfect gentleman.” Your father explained. “Now, I said I was going to talk to your mother about it but I can't lose this opportunity. I'll give them a day and then tell them tomorrow they are hired. It sounds perfect!”

You watched him walk away, probably in search of your mother to tell her the news. Ever since the gang had entered the town it seemed as though your parents were really pushing you to find someone. Maybe they had been for a while but you had never noticed and always waved them off.

However, meeting the boys you started to notice how much they actually wanted you to leave. You guess having them see you with men really got them hopeful. You weren’t the only one who was of age for marriage. You had a 19 year old brother, but then again he was often seen with girls. Unlike you who hadn’t been out with a boy since you were a teen.

It had ended in disaster when you offended the boy for making a disgusted face at something he had said. His opinion didn’t sit well with you so you voiced it. Albeit you didn’t mean to but it came out anyways. Ever since then, men just steered clear of you in a romantic sense. Jongho was the first one you had ever been out with ever since that time.

You came to the conclusion there just wasn’t someone out there who could match the kind of person you were. It did make you sad to think that you would never find that special person. But you were young, so you had time to explore your options. Besides for the first time, you finally did meet someone who found your attitude entertaining.

It was just a matter of explaining to your parents that with him you weren’t going to find what they wanted.

Series Masterlist

@thefrog3223 , @iarayara , @0rangemilk , @explorewithd ,

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skyeslittlecorner · 3 months

Text

Reminiscent of old times | Young Kings, Gusion

I should write some introduction, but I don't have much to add. Just little children who deserve the world, but the world already chose to give them pain.

~1200 words

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

The room was small, cameral, more like an office. The fate of nations is most often played out in such rooms. Subjects reporting, kings giving orders. Choices and decisions. Reports, laws, official letters. Power, the shackles of power, when you have to send your loved ones to death and watch them suffer because you are the most important pawn in this game.

The four boys sit on the floor. Leviathan moved away disapprovingly, and Mammon watched with interest as Beelzebub tried to command the cockroach to enter Satan's nose as he fell asleep. They had no idea what dark thoughts were going through their teacher's head.

Gusion looked at their homework and sighed. Those math problems weren't difficult. At least the initial were not, because it was exactly what they were learning now. It is true that when he prepared homework in the middle of the night, Guison was so tired that he added the last two tasks from a topic they had not studied. They didn't know how to solve it... but what he got back was at least interesting.

“Oh, Gusion is alive. Get up." Beel elbowed Satan in the chest.

The boy shuddered and looked around unconsciously. He squinted to see what was crawling on his nose, and screamed when it turned out to be a cockroach. Beel cackled loudly, and Mammon gently removed the bug and placed it on his shoulder.

“Now you will be mine.”

“You're acting like brats.” Leviathan separated Beel from Satan, who tried to jump at his throat. “Calm down, I want to get this over with.”

“Leeeviii, he's an idiot!”

“You fit together.”

At that moment, they looked like ordinary children. They had fun, argued and laughed, unaware of what fate would bring them. If it weren't for the powerful aura that emanated from each of them, with their fluffy cheeks and undergrown horns, they could have been running around the streets of the capital with sticks, having fun with other kids.

Gusion finally woke up and spoke in a calm voice.

“I checked your homework.”

Of course, it didn't help. This time the focus was again on the cockroach and the deep discussion of how to dip its little legs into the golden river. Only when Gusion slammed his fist on the desk did four pairs of eyes turn to him.

“Leviathan. You did great, everything was resolved perfectly. I didn't expect any of you would do so well.”

Gusion handed him a paper with the only red color marking a perfect score. There was not a single pencil smudge or additional calculations. Only correct results. The boy smiled to himself, as he was sure that it couldn't be otherwise.

“I didn't teach you this, how did you know how to solve it?”

“There was a textbook in the library. Unlike them, I know what books are for.”

In fact, Gusion recently couldn't find his textbook from which he took the assignments. But how did it appear in the library? Gusion hadn't visited this place for several weeks. Without much thought, he pulled out another piece of paper, maybe not as elegantly written as the previous one, but still in good condition.

“Mammon. All the problems are fine up to the point where there was subtraction or division... I understand that you may have read it incorrectly. In one. But everywhere?”

The boy looked at it with interest, but without much concern.

“I read it well.”

“So what's the problem?”

“Why should I reduce numbers when I can accumulate them?”

Inhale. Exhale. That's not what math is about. Still patiently, Gusion rubbed his forehead.

“Sometimes you have to subtract something to gain more... A bit like a loan. You give something to someone for safekeeping so you can pick up more later.”

“But it's still mine?”

"Yes. It's yours. Someone else is just taking care of it for the time being.”

It's true that Gusion didn't know who would take care of delta for him, but what mattered was that Mammon understood. Gusion had long since stopped explaining equations to Mammon in anything other than money terms. Not because he was stupid. He understood very quickly. If he wanted to. And usually he only wanted something when it belonged to him. Him and Beel were the only ones who didn't question the fact that a certain devil bought thirty watermelons.

“Beelzebub…”

The boy returned the paper a day ago, which was so scribbled that you could barely see the whiteness of the page, let alone the answer. When he get it back, this time marked red by Gusion, there was no trace of the white at all.

“Do I even have to comment on this? Once you get something right, it is related to subtraction, just unlike Mammon. Why?"

“Because if I eat something, it won't be there.”

This time Gusion didn't even try to comment. Beel pursed his lips and decided to defend himself.

“I even borrowed a textbook to learn! But it was terribly boring. I think I left it somewhere.”

So that's how it ended up in the library.

“Okay… Sit down. Satan. You're the last one left.”

The first problems looked good. In fact, the beginning looked the most normal compared to the rest of the boys, the further and more difficult the tasks, the more small mistakes. It only got weird towards the end. The paper was concave from the force of what the boy was writing, and instead of an answer there was a puncture with a pen. Satan was the avatar of wrath. Gusion understood this, the boy got irritated when he failed. And then it got weird, because the last two problems were solved so perfectly and cleanly, as if Leviahan had solved them.

“Will you explain to me what happened?”

“Oh.” Satan smiled broadly and turned to Leviathan. "You were right!"

“Of course I was.”

Gusion felt a twinge of pride. Were they studying together? That's better than he expected.

“Right about what?”

“That there are correct answers at the back of the textbook.”

…and whatever hope there was in Gusion just died.

“Hey! There were answers there and you didn't tell me?”

“No, and I will never tell you because you tried to put a cockroach up my nose!”

Mammon, on the other hand, was nodding in admiration.

“Very efficient use of resources.”

“Everyone get out of my sight.”

They didn't need to be told twice. When the group had already flown out of his office, Gusion went to the window, where he soon saw all four of them in the palace courtyard. Whatever mischief they had planned, they looked carefree. Happily. Young kings who will soon carry the weight of the entire Hell on their shoulders. With power comes responsibilities, and with responsibilities comes suffering. They were young, but each of them had already experienced loss. Learning, fun, friendship. An overlay to the painful everyday life that will soon await them. He might be annoyed that they didn't always take their lessons seriously, but he couldn't stay mad at them for long. In a few years, along with the crowns will come responsibilities. He could only let them taste the remnants of childhood they had left.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb gusion

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arabellasleopardcoat · 10 months

Text

MAD (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Caught in the crossfire of your familiy's ploys, you never expected to catch the eye of the enemy.

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: Did you know there are nine meanings for mad in the dictionary? Credits to Wikipedia for the one in the banner. As always, this is already written, broken up for easier reading and editing.

Next part

“I don’t understand.” Your father lifts the letter to the light, as if he is about to uncover some secret in the parchment. His expression is absolutely puzzled. “Are they really trying to sell an insult as a compliment?”

“That’s Otto Hightower for you.” Your grandfather answers. You stop kicking your legs from your place near the fireplace, suddenly interested. Unsure what Otto Hightower has to do with you, you try listening closely. No one has told you yet why you have been summoned, but you would love to know. “But the order comes bearing his brother’s seal. We cannot refuse him.”

“We can’t? It’s worded as a question.”

“A question with King’s Viserys’s seal? Oh, don’t be naive.” Your grandfather scoffs.

Sensing an argument, you decide to tune it out. Like most families, yours can go at it for hours. You kick a bit more, then get up to look through the window. You wish you could be outside, soaking up the sun. The day is too pretty to miss on, and The Reach is always so nice during the spring.

They are still bickering, and taking no notice of your change in position when something catches your ear.

“The girl has to go to court.”

A trip to the capital. You at court? But why? You are a lady from a minor house, and not even an important one. Your family can’t raise many men, nor do they have countless funds. Your greatest ambition in life has been to marry into another family from The Reach and not having to leave your family behind.

“To teach Princess Helaena about bees?” Your father glares at your grandfather. “They aren’t even trying to disguise it, father.”

Teaching a royal girl about bees? It was strange, for sure. You had heard about Princess Helaena’s oddities, but you doubted they extended to wanting to learn how to produce her own honey. You doubted her family would approve, either.

From your limited knowledge of mothers, they disliked daughters crawling in the mud or chasing bugs. They thought it was not ladylike. You had no doubts Queen Alicent was the same.

Chasing of bees aside, you have been nothing but a dutiful daughter. All your life you have kept up to date with your studies and readings, assisted the Sept weekly and learned the finest arts. Thanks to it, you know enough of the world to recognize your lack of importance. Princesses don’t befriend unimportant farm girls, much less ask to have them as their companions. They befriend girls of similar status, girls who will inherit extensive lands and riches.

You are neither. You will get, of course, when your Lord Father dies, a small plot of land for yourself. Not exactly the Red Keep or Winterfell, but not a hut either. The family business is profitable, as always. Producing honey for the Seven Kingdoms means you are not living in poverty. But its nowhere near the level of these people.

So what could they want with you? There is only one possible answer. A political move. One worth befriending someone so unimportant. And what better than silencing your grandfather? You know his opposition to your Liege Lord’s brother has been making waves. His constant backing of Princess Rhaenyra has angered Ser Otto. The fact that the proposal, signed by King Viserys, also wears the seal of Lord Hightower means you can’t say no.

“It’s a show of strength. I have no doubt he could order her to marry one of his family members if he wanted to. He is warning me.” The confirmation of your suspicions makes you feel strangely empty. Your grandfather sounds scared, which is not a common occurrence. Despite his old age, the man is still a menace. A bright politician, and an even more fearsome Lord.

“And are you going to listen, grandfather?” Your pulse beats loudly in your ears. You don’t want to leave your home. Never had you thought it would be like, this, you thought you had time. And whatever these people want to do to you, it can’t be good.

You are scared. House Targaryen is nasty, and you doubt you will find any sort of solace in the ladies at court. You are soon to become an upjumped noble. A girl, who with gods knows what trickery, has ensnared a Princess to do her bidding and secured herself one of the most prestigious positions in the realm.

You will be entering a nest of vipers in less than a week. Any mistake might mean the ruin of your grandfather and yours. You should be scared. Yet, fear is not the only thing in your mind. White, hot, blinding rage builds up in your throat and fills you with the urge to scream.

“My dear girl, I have no choice.”

“I don’t understand why I have to court her.” Aemond leans in, placing both of his hands on the table. He can already hear the smug comment Aegon is about to make. “House Beesbury brings nothing to the table. They are not prestigious, nor are they rich, and they are already sworn to us.”

It makes no sense. When you are a Prince, you marry to secure alliances. You don’t marry your vassals, not when they are already loyal to you.

“And haven’t you thought you deserve her, brother? With that stick up your ass and…”

Why is Aegon even here? Aemond does not mind his presence, but more his lack of gravitas. He seems to have a chronic inability to take anything seriously. It’s not that that bothers him, really. Too often, Aemond has found himself hiding a smile at his brother’s antics. But this is really not the time.

In his eyes, nothing is more serious than getting married. Even if he can’t understand yet why this girl in particular.

There must be some reason he is not seeing. You might be pretty, or his grandsire and mother might think you are a good match. You will be inheriting lands, which is always nice. It means having a place to retire to when life in court gets too stifling. But many other ladies will, too. So why does his grandsire insist on you?

“Aegon!” His mother pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. Then, towards Aemond. “Do not listen to your brother. That is certainly not the reason. Your grandsire…”

“It’s not that I oppose the match, mother. Or that I refuse to court her.” Aemond does not want her or his grandsire to get the wrong impression. He intends to fulfill his duty. If he has to marry the girl, he marries her, no matter his opinion. “I’m just puzzled about the reasoning.”

“I think this will be a valuable lesson for you both.” His grandsire takes out a list of names and a quill. “That’s why we called Aegon in here, too.”

“Are we really going to talk politics? How dull.” Aegon complains, but no one pays attention to him.

“This is an account of the Small Council voting tendencies in the last month.” His grandsire explains, now in full lecture mode. The parchment, now that Aemond is paying more attention to it, doesn’t have only a list of names, but a tally. “As you can see, the backing of my proposals changes, but there is one constant. Can you tell what it is?”

Aemond grabs the parchment and takes a look. It takes him a while, but he notices a pattern. At first, he doesn’t dare mention it. He is not sure of having the right answer and hates being wrong about it.

Some people say that mistakes aid learning. To Aemond, mistakes are painful, and often embarrassing. It’s why he puts the parchment down in front of Aegon and stays quiet, despite knowing he is right.

A few minutes pass. Aegon stares at the parchment. He squints at it, but since he is most probably drunk, he can’t make sense of it.

His grandsire clears his throat.

“Lord Beesbury never backs you.” Aemond finally says. Now, he understands why you. To control your family. “How can that be? House Hightower is his overlord.”

“Perhaps at The Reach, he can’t refuse a Hightower. But as the Master of Coin, he can always excuse himself on a lack of funds.”

“So the man is a cunt. And you reward him by having his granddaughter marry Aemond?” Aegon frowns, showing he is more invested in the explanation than he appears to be. Aemond will never understand why he feels the need to downplay his intelligence. “I’m lost, I think.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, if you will.” Otto circles Beesbury’s name on the list. “He could give us a lot of trouble, not only here, but at Oldtown. It will neutralize him.” Of course. House Hightower would look weak, if they can't get a handle on the Beesburys. But marriage? Is that the solution?

“How?” Aemond frowns. He can understand keeping a close eye on the man, but it feels like much more of a reward than neutralizing him. All their other vassals might think it weakness. Act out, and your daughter will marry up. If it were up to Aemond, he would just kick him out of the Small Council and be done with it. He doesn’t believe in people’s good nature, after all. “By keeping him happy for a while? Gratefulness never lasts, grandsire.”

“No.” His mother speaks for the first time. Her lips are tense, as if tasting a particularly sour drink. It’s clear Alicent doesn’t agree and finds the whole matter distasteful. If Aemond were a woman, he might, too. But he, thanks to the Seven, was spared from that weakness of character. “By giving us a permanent hostage.”

“And teaching him a lesson.” Otto adds, giving him a pointed look. His brown eyes meet Aemond’s, as if silently conveying a message. No more words are needed then. Aemond understands what he is trying to say without having to speak the words aloud. He has grown used to sparing his mother’s sensibilities. She would be horrified and disappointed, if she knew exactly what they were planning.

It’s expected he leads you into some sort of scandal. Something that would mean your ruin, perhaps taking your maidenhead in a chamber close enough for others to hear. Or perhaps, that he times a servant to enter just right. Even leaving you with child before wedlock.

Lord Beesbury doesn’t know, and probably won’t know until it’s too late, that Aemond intends to marry you. The scandal alone will be enough to frighten him into compliance. And once you are ruined enough, Aemond will sweep in to save your reputation, cementing Beesbury’s loyalties. The man will not dare refuse them, after it.

Still, his mother’s words rattle him. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse, that she thinks that’s what’s about to happen. But her experiences with marriage have not been the best, either.

“Hostage? Mother, surely you know I would never treat her unkindly.” He means it. Marriage vows instruct on the most sacred duty. A man must protect his wife, not hurt her. The Seven Pointed Star says that he will have a duty to discipline her, of course, but for her own good. Never Aemond would raise a hand to his wife in cruelty.

He might be willing to ruin your reputation, but he draws the line at hurting you. It’s just not who he is. Aemond has heard enough tales of knighthood to know that’s simply not how an honorable man behaves.

Honorable men weren’t supposed to trick young maidens, either. But that was fine. He would marry you after it, so it didn’t count. It was just taking what was his a little earlier.

“We know, Aemond. But her grandfather does not.” Alicent leans in, to squeeze his hand. It’s that when the doubt assaults him. What if he does ruin you and your family still refuses to hand you to him? What if Lord Beesbury thinks Aemond will hurt you and decides to say no to the marriage? In that case, Aemond would be a despicable person. He would ruin your future, your purity, the most sacred thing a maiden has, for nothing.

“And if he refuses?” Because Aemond would not hand his granddaughter to a man like him. And if Lord Beesbury had any sense, he wouldn’t, either.

“She will come here as a companion for Helaena.” His grandsire smiles. Aemond looks at him, trying to show him he is still not reassured. Otto’s smile widens. Instead of a casual announcement, the words he says next are exclusively for Aemond. “My brother will force his hand if he has to.”

Aemond grins back. It’s not that he would have to just send you to court. If your grandfather doesn’t consent to the marriage later on, he will find himself having to fulfill an impossible condition or perhaps threatened to lose all he has. You will marry Aemond, even if your overlord has to order you to.

It must be done carefully. One of the rules of being a great house is never humiliating their vassals, or abusing them. Asking a man to hand over his granddaughter would be in bad taste, of course. It has to be avoided if possible. So it will be up to Aemond to see that the little lamb delivers herself for the slaughter. He has to tangle you enough that no one suspects the Hightowers’s involvement.

“When does she get here?”

How hard can it be, really? Aegon certainly is more than capable of getting women in his bed, after all. If he can do it, why couldn't Aemond? He has seen enough Lords court Ladies, has read all the books on courtly love and even some romances his mother likes. He has also seen how women swoon around Cole. And you are a farm girl. Easy to impress. Besides, half the women of the realm dream of marrying a Prince.

Aemond will plan accordingly and sweep you off your feet. He can do it. He just needs time.

“If everything goes according to plan.” Which it would because it was his grandfather who had made it. “In a fortnight.”

The dismay must have shown on his face because Aegon snickers.

“Think of the bright side, Aemond. Your little bee has to have the sweetest cunt in the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Aegon!”

“What, don't they claim to be descended from Ellyn Ever Sweet?”

You needed to be coaxed out of your sulk. Nothing excited you, after hearing the terrible news. Not even getting two new dresses made, and some aprons.

Well. Perhaps the new dresses. Your father had allowed you to order them in your favorite colors, in a rare respite from the black and yellow from your house. Still, you were angry. You didn’t want to leave the safety of Honeyholt.

“You should think of it as an adventure.” Your father had advised you, on your last night before departing. “Not many girls get to see Westeros before the day they are sent off to marry. And you get to see King’s Landing, too.”

Fuming as you were, you didn’t think it was valuable advice. Your father was, more often than not, a fool. Or so your mother said.

But as the carriage slowly started to leave behind the roads you knew, you discovered there was more to see in The Reach than just Oldtown. Your anger slowly started to fade, replaced by wonder and newly discovered freedom. Your grandfather, travelling with you, had never been the type to keep a close eye on you.

Lord Beesbury had grandchildren for one reason, and one reason only. To spoil them rotten. Unlike your mother, he didn’t believe in chastising you for your behavior or getting you to behave in a ladylike manner. He just wanted you to be happy.

That fact was what made you listen to him when he decided to try to teach you how to survive in court.

“It's no use being angry, little bee.” Your grandfather had said, as you gazed through the window in anger. “We need to think of ways of turning this to our favor.”

And so, the two of you had come up with three rules of behavior. One, never being alone with any man who was not part of your family. Two, never being alone with any Targaryen. And three, being on your most charming behavior. This was a good opportunity to show your beauty and grace to other houses, and perhaps get a better marriage. One that benefited your house and kept you out of the Hightower’s clutches. Now that was an objective you could get behind.

King’s Landing was not what you expected. You had thought the capital would be something like Oldtown, or other cities of The Reach. Carefully planned, either be in a Cyvasse board design or concentric circles. But to get to the center of the city, you had to go through dirty roads, slums and strange settlements.

It was clear the growth of the city had not had any thought behind it. The population was not educated, either, because you had seen some emptying their chamber pots on the streets. The stench alone spoke of a place that didn’t know the wonders of aqueducts.

And all was so gray. So dull. There was hardly any vegetation. Were it not for the fact the city had a port, you would have wondered where they got all their food.

Your grandfather aids your descent from the carriage, a hand firmly on yours to make sure you don’t trip. It would be a disgrace if you were to fall here. The path looks like it has not been cleaned during its whole existence. You do your best to smile and not show how unimpressed you are.

It’s then when you get your first look at Otto Hightower. He stands tall and proud at the gates of the Red Keep, as if he owned the place. Perhaps he thinks he does. You have heard that he disagrees with the succession order King Viserys has set.

He must feel King, already, thinking it will be Prince Aegon who will inherit the throne. The disloyalty and the greed of the man truly know no bounds. He would rather betray the King he has sworn to serve and place a drunk on the throne than have a Queen.

Otto Hightower is serious and slender, marked apart by the brooch he wears. Behind him, in a shock of silver hair, stand three more people.

The only woman, sweet faced, has to be Princess Helaena. It’s easy to recognize her, from your grandfather’s briefing. The two of you have decided her to be the most innocuous. According to your grandfather, there is not a single mean bone in her body. Besides, you doubt she is in any plot. Her family mocks her for not being all there, you doubt they would include her.

Next to her, judging by the lecherous expression and lack of eye patch, stands her brother husband. Prince Aegon is the one you have to watch out for, your grandfather has warned you. He has a taste for young maidens. You don’t get the appeal. He looks like a deviant cherub.

On Princess Helaena’s other side, stands Prince Aemond. Tall, serious and easily recognizable by the injury to his face, he looms above his siblings like a bat. While Helaena and Aegon are dressed lightly, in clothes appropriate for the climate, Aemond is dressed head to toe in black leather. You aren’t sure about him. If anyone out of the three of them is trusted with Otto’s secrets, it is him. But you doubt he could do much to you beyond insult you. He doesn’t seem interested in women, in tourneys or in drinking. In fact, he doesn’t seem interested in anything.

You school your face into a polite mask, as your grandfather is greeted by the Lord Hand himself.

“Lord Lyman Beesbury. I trust the journey was pleasant?” Otto sounds anything but interested in the answer.

“Delightful.” Your grandfather deadpans. “This is my granddaughter.”

“Little Lady Beesbury.” Otto nodded.

“My Lord.” You dropped into a small, but practiced curtsy. Not too low because he was not a royal, but low enough to acknowledge him as someone who was part of the family of your overlord.

His eyes examined you, coldly. From your loud yellow travel cloak to your sturdy black shoes. You pushed your shoulders back, giving him a smile. Ser Otto didn’t seem too impressed by it.

After a beat of silence, he turned towards your grandfather again.

“I have some matters I wish to discuss with you. There have been some concerns raised about…”

Despite being prepared for the possibility of being separated, you hadn’t expected it this soon. You hadn’t even stepped inside the Red Keep, for the Seven’s sake. Your grandfather gives you a reassuring glance.

“I was hoping I could help my granddaughter settle in.” He argues, keeping an eye on the Lord Hand.

The man laughs. It’s not a nice sound, or a joyful one. In fact, it sounds threatening.

“Oh, nonsense. Aemond?”

“Yes, grandfather?” The Prince steps forward, at the same time your grandfather places an encouraging hand on your back.

You step back despite yourself. Up close, he is much more intimidating. He is tall, and sports a menacing look. Your grandfather urges you forward, and Prince Aemond’s lips twitch. He is definitely enjoying your fear.

“You and your sister should help the lady settle in.” Ser Otto smiles. It’s clear who holds the reins here, once more. He has outmaneuvered you two in less than a minute. You squeeze your grandfather’s hand, trying to show him that you intend to be careful.

Ser Otto was a smart man. But you were sure he was not all seeing. You would find a way. This was a small fluke. You had been caught off guard in a disorienting moment. It wouldn’t happen again.

Prince Aemond, on the other hand, was terrifying. But he lacked his grandfather’s experience, he was untested. It would be his downfall, you were sure of it.

The Lord Hand threw an arm over your grandfather’s shoulder and led him away. The gesture made even Prince Aegon raise his eyebrows. Did they think you two were dumb? Because they were laying it a bit thick.

“Come, Lord Beesbury. We should let the youngsters get to…” His voice faded in the distance, as you stood there, feeling as lost as you looked.

Prince Aegon looked you over. Princess Helaena waved. And Prince Aemond, ever helpful, appeared at your elbow.

“Allow me.” He said, offering you his arm.

You looked around. Prince Aegon was on the edge of laughter, it seemed because he was making strange sounds. Princess Helaena seemed oblivious. Prince Aemond was still looming over you.

It was a long walk to the Hall. You would certainly encounter guards, servants and even the odd noble. Not only would it give the wrong impression, that you were here for him and not his sister, but it would be awkward. But rejecting him would be, too.

Not knowing of a better way to get out of it, you decided to play dumb. You took off your travel cloak and placed it on his extended arm.

“Thank you.” And with a bright smile, you took Princess Helaena’s arm.

Prince Aegon gave a poorly disguised snicker. Prince Aemond stared at the bright yellow cloak on his arm, coolly. It made for a great statement, considering he was in all black.

“Of course, my Lady.” But it came out strangled. Good. The sooner he realized you were not easy prey, the better.

“It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Princess Helaena.” As you spoke, you noticed she looked very tense. She had not looked like that before you touched her. You decided to let go of her arm.

The Princess brightened immediately.

“Likewise, Lady Beesbury. When grandsire told me he was getting me a teacher, I never thought you were this young.” Her voice was soft and light. Kind. You wanted desperately to befriend her. You were starting to get the feeling that here, kindness was a scarce thing.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Oh, not at all.” Helaena answered, lightly tugging at your sleeve. You beamed.

Behind you, Prince Aemond and Aegon trailed dutifully. None of them seemed keen on conversing with you, but Helaena hadn’t left you an opening, either. There was something about her demeanor that seemed off to you. The Princess was very aloof, but not impolite. It was as if she wasn’t intending to dismiss you. Like she was uncomfortable with social niceties. As if she was awkward, like you.

It made you like her more.

“Why do you like insects?” You tried, figuring it was a safe topic. One of the Princes made a derisive sound. You ignored him, choosing to pay all your attention to Helaena.

“Oh, they are a fascinating bunch. They remain even when we do not.” Helaena had a dreamy tone. Again, someone snorted. This time you turned to glare and found yourself staring down Prince Aegon.

You keep your eyes on him as you replied.

“That’s true. They will probably inherit the earth when we are gone.”

Helaena nodded. Oblivious to what was quickly turning into a stare down between you and her husband, she kept talking passionately.

“And I have spent a lot of time watching ants, too. They build small societies. They even carry their dead back home. Surely, that speaks of a superior level of intelligence.”

Prince Aegon looked about to make some sort of joke. Prince Aemond grabbed his wrists, stopping him. He made eye contact with you, mouth quirking up in interest.

It was not good. Not good at all. Your stomach turned. Was he going to humiliate you? Perhaps make a joke at your expense?

His lips twitched. You braced yourself for having to mumble some polite recognition and playing dumb again.

“Hm.” Prince Aemond gave a court tilt of his head.

You blinked. What a strange interaction. You cleared your throat and turned towards Princess Helaena once more.

“Bees do something similar. Do you wish to hear more?"

The Princess nodded. You started your explanation then, still rattled by the siblings' behavior. Whatever your presence had been required for, you were certain it was not going to be boring.

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