#beloved prince and revered king

[marcskywalker]

I love when Arthur is all kingly and noble and aggressively stands by the side of justice.

especially when he gets super protective of his kingdom Camelot is mine to protect / my people deserve better / my people can't starve

like yess that's MY once and future king sdfjsgk

[desireangel]

Bad Things | Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond is plagued with doubts and seeks refuge in the one place where he is at peace with himself; between his beloved wife's legs.

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only!! this is so in Aemond's thoughts, self doubt, lack of remorse, smut, oral (f receiving), talk of sex, slight breeding kink, Aemond is lost in his head and obsessed with eating his wife out, Aemond may be prince regent of Westeros but he is king of eating pussy, unedited, hmm kinda just porn really - let me know to add anything if need be!

Author's Note: Came home drunk (typos??? potentially. unnecessary droning on??? potentially.) after a couple cocktails and had the urge to erm write. About oral sex specifically, of course. Anywayssss, enjoy (I hope!) - xoxo kisses!!! <3

Masterlist!

Sometimes Aemond let his mind wander to all that could have been and all that could come to be had he only made his decisions differently. He seldom felt regret - never felt as if he would change the things that have led him towards the path of greatness he was on. But what ifs and the memory of failures are as stubborn as a newborn plague and Aemond was just as vulnerable to illness as those whom he revered and those whom he detested. 

It was warm under the light of the setting sun, a kiss on his skin as Aemond rested against the balcony at the window and watched over what he longed to have for himself. If things had been different, at any time and any place, where would he be now?

The thought of living his life without his injury had come to sicken him but it lingered at the back of his mind. Had certain moments taken a different turn, would he still feel the need to drive people to respect him through fear and prove himself worthy at every chance he could find? Aemond swallowed at the thought. And he stood there, looking to the skies as if the clouds could free him from the suffocation of the feelings that had haunted him since the night he lost his eye. 

Feelings of failure, feelings of defeat, feelings of fear and feelings of humiliation. 

Even after meeting you, and understanding that loving you meant different things - things he wasn’t familiar with, things he wasn’t sure he was capable of becoming familiar with - the lingering thought of what if was all consuming.

Aemond could hear you coming seconds before you were beside him. He was thankful you stood by his side, silently and wordlessly as your eyes dragged across his face, analysing what you could of his thoughts from his perfected emotionless expression. Quiet moments like this, where Aemond got lost in his mind grew fewer at each move he made within this war.

But here you both were, silently in each other’s company. Aemond was a passionate lover. But he was also at times a cold and imperfect partner. And some of those times where he retreated into himself, although he had rarely lost control of himself in front of you, left him vexed at your presence.  

Because to Aemond, you were perfect. Frustrating at times but that was often the fault of his own lack of patience and tolerance. You were, at the end of the day, too perfect. He saw your compassion, your empathy, your kindness. And he saw your strength, your wit, your fearsome loyalty.

And here Aemond was, unable to even regret many of the times he acted without any of those perfect things. After the fate that Lucerys had met, Aemond found he could not find it in himself to feel remorse for much else. 

You let your fingers graze along the leather sleeve on his arm, your light touch burning into his skin through the fabric. He closed his eye and kept it closed for minutes of silence that felt like hours before he spoke lowly.

“I have done bad things.”

You sucked in a breath. “Would you be here today if you had not done those things?”

“No, you do not understand me. I cannot bring myself to care for some of the vile things that I have done. That I have caused. I should care, should I not?” 

Releasing a long sigh, you shifted on your feet. Aemond knew that you were different to him. You didn’t agree with many of his actions and decisions but you knew there was nothing you could do except to be there when he needed you. It had taken time to realise you couldn’t change the way he thought, the way he felt, the way he reacted to things - you weren’t sure if you truly, deeply wanted to take on that burden. 

As Aemond grew more honest with you, you had come to realise that when it came down to it he was not a completely good man. But he was good to you and while Aemond saw your strength, you knew you were weak when it came to him. Loyalty and love for your husband burned painfully in your chest no matter his imperfections and you never bothered to try to justify it. 

“Perhaps if I had acted differently, somewhere,” Aemond’s words were rushed, a switch from his normally slow drawl. He would curse himself tomorrow for his moment of weakness but he couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach. “Then I would not be the way that I am now.”

You stared at him for a moment. His expression was of ice and had you not known him the way that you do, then you would never have noticed the confliction in his eyes. “There is no use-”

“I know there is no use in thinking about what may have been, I know,” Aemond spat. 

“Alright,” you paused. “But you will never know what could have changed. You made your decisions, you were the author of your own fate, Aemond. ‘Tis the way things go - we must face it. What difference would it make if things could have been different? You cannot undo what you have already done.”

Aemond’s jaw ticked and he moved so that his arm hung at your waist. You briefly glanced back inside at the servant who prepared your nightly cup of tea at your bedside. Aemond seldom made a show of your relationship when you weren’t entirely alone. Nevertheless, you didn’t let your mind linger on that fact. 

He gazed down at you, his ocean-strong eye never failing to make your breath hitch and goosebumps to rise on your skin. You were relieved that he seemed to agree with your words. Aemond’s shoulders had lost much of the tension they held and the start of the sweet smile that was shared only with you played on his lips. 

He had to try hard to believe what you had told him. Because here you were, no matter what he did and no matter his lack of conviction, at his side and wrapped around his finger. You were the calming breeze that cooled his heat, you were the shade that gave him relief from the scorching sun and you were the water that flushed the burn from his skin. Aemond was not one to be an emotional man but he knew that he had love for you and your endless, boundless support. And he dreamed of how he would share with you the world that will one day be at his feet. 

“I shall share your bed tonight, my love.” Aemond’s words were as they always have been; smooth with honey but laced with venomous promises. You bit back a smile as he pulled you inside, addicted to whatever venom dripped from his words, from his eye, from him.  “And that shall serve as all the reminder that I need to be sure I have not been so misguided that I have lost my way to no return.” 

When he pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, dragging it along your soft skin, he inhaled deeply. Aemond thought for a moment of how perfect it would be if he could bottle your scent and keep it with him forever. A reminder of the woman for whom he wished he could become a good, honest man. 

Your body felt so familiar to him that it made his mind turn quiet and Aemond could only think of having you closer, closer, closer. And it was never close enough, no matter how hard he squeezed at the flesh of your hips to pull you in, no matter how your breath tickled his skin and  how your eyelashes fluttered against his hair as he dragged his lips over your shoulder and along the side of your neck. 

If there were no roof atop your heads, you would have thought that it rained flames onto the both of you and to relieve the burn of it, you melted into Aemond, pressing yourself further into him and squirming for more as he grabbed at your nightclothes to toss them to the floor. 

You tugged hopelessly at the buckles on his tunic, whining. “Get it off, Aemond.”

Aemond didn’t need to be told a second time because hardly a moment later he was as naked as you were, pushing you until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed and you fell onto it gently. A strained groan fell from his lips as he let you pull him down with you, holding his face in your hands as he held himself above you with an arm beside your head. You gently removed the leather that covered his glimmering sapphire, sighing contently. 

Admiring Aemond as he was, bare and honest and beautiful had become your favourite way to see him. Without the need to hide any part of himself from you. 

Smirking, he let his lips graze yours softly. It was a stark contrast to the way Aemond’s other hand was roughly grabbing at whatever flesh he could hold, squeezing you and sending shockwaves straight through to your core. 

You could barely get the words out of you. “Kiss me–Gods, kiss me.”

And he did kiss you, his lips desperately clashing against yours with a new kind of vigour. Aemond rarely kissed you with such force, such rage and such raw, unfettered need. But as his teeth knocked against yours, catching your lip in between and drawing blood, he entertained the thought that maybe he did regret something. All of the kisses he never had the chance to give you. 

The air between you was charged with something sharp and electric, a primal energy that clouded your head and had you gasping Aemond’s name at the way he brushed his knuckle against your core. Normally, he would have taken his time with you. But despite the fact that you had the entire night ahead of you, Aemond was rushed and impatient. 

“Always so ready for me,” he murmured, taking in a sharp breath as his fingers rubbed through your slick folds, pulling a soft whine from you. Aemond’s cock twitched at the perfect sound and he ground his hips against the plush of your thigh. He dragged the pads of his fingers teasingly up from the slit of your hole to the hood of your clit, drawing teasing circles so softly you could have been convinced his touch was a figment of your fantasies. 

“Aemond, please-”

He shushed you softly. “Patience, my sweet.”

Aemonds lips, wet on your jaw, travelled down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbones. He nibbled at you, amused at the way you arched and squirmed, replacing his fingers with his cock and sliding it against your clit. When his lips met your nipple he sucked harshly with a flick of his tongue, giving your right breast hardly enough attention before turning to the other. 

It sent shivers down your spine and you were sure Aemond felt you shudder against him when his lips travelled lower, leaving a wet trail down your skin until he was finally just below your naval. Aemond turned his head, his teeth pinching the flesh of your thigh harshly, just above where your thigh curved into your pelvis. You squealed. 

“Hm,” He chuckled darkly, smiling up at you and shaking his head with a deep tsk when your legs instinctively moved to shut. His hands groped at your thighs and pushed them up so that you were folded yet entirely spread in front of him. “I will fuck you with my tongue first. And my fingers. Then I will fuck you with my cock and fill you with my seed, only after I have made you quiver and shake from the pleasure of my mouth on your perfect cunt.”

Aemond’s eye dropped to your sopping cunt and his words coiled in his throat, coming out as a muffled moan. You gasped as he lewdly spat, his head falling downwards in an instant, wave after wave of pleasure stealing the oxygen from your lungs as he sucked on your pussy, tongue weaving across your clit and back down. 

All of the loud doubts that plagued his mind turned into whispers of incoherence the moment his mouth met the velvety skin of your womanhood, Aemond’s favourite place to lose himself when his thoughts became unbearable. The tangy, sweet taste of your arousal pulled a deep growl from his chest and when your hips jerked against his face, he wrapped a strong arm over your hips to hold you in place. 

As Aemond’s tongue dipped into you, his lips latched on the expanse of your cunt, you let out a cry, your hand falling to his hair and pulling hard. Your body was hot with desire, thighs squeezing your husband’s head as he greedily feasted on the most intimate parts of you. He pulled away for one quick second to catch his breath before burying himself in you once again, the obscene smacking sounds of how he relentlessly sucked and lapped at your slit. 

For such vulgar noises, they had become increasingly beautiful. 

“I dream of staying here forever,” Aemond’s words were muffled, difficult to hear over your own whimpers and the movement of his lips on your folds had you bucking to follow his mouth. He hid his grin in your wetness. “I can do no wrong with the taste of you on my tongue.”

The pleasure that Aemond always submerged you was almost becoming overwhelming and you lost the ability to form sentences, muttering and mumbling in response. He could decipher his name, falling for your flushed lips so many times, and his eye flickered up to watch how your body climbed to the highest point of satisfaction where such a sinful act became heavenly. 

You were always beautiful, Aemond thought. But you were at your most beautiful when you came undone for him, lost in the throes of bliss and grasping at him as if you could not live for another second without his touch. He carried you through your orgasm, unrelenting as he greedily devoured every part of your pussy, looking up at you with his darkened eye and shining sapphire, strands of his hair that had come loose sticking to the wetness on his jaw. Aemond relished in the strangled, melodic sounds that you made for him. 

When you jerked away from him with a squeal, so sensitive when the tip of his tongue flicked against your clit that your hips bucked suddenly, Aemond pulled away while chuckling and placing featherlight kisses along your shaking thighs. He watched how your cunt continued to clench around nothing as you came down from your orgasm, the messy mixture of his spit and your arousal glistening under the light from the lamps. 

You let yourself relax into the bedsheets and moved to close your legs, tugging Aemond to meet you for a kiss and giggling when he stopped to quickly wipe your slick from his face. But before your knees could come together, he caught them, settling himself in between and you could feel the steady heat from his hardened cock grazing across the outside of your slit. 

“I think my pretty wife believes she is going to have a restful night,” Aemond teased against your lips, sliding a hand down between your bodies and spreading your folds once again to make way for his fingers. You shuddered against him with a mewl. “You are mistaken, my love, if you believe I will not have you full of my seed by the time I am done making love to you. I am a man of my word, am I not?”

[strawberri-blonde]

Iron throne - Jacaerys Velaryon

Summary: you celebrate team black winning the war by giving the heir a much needed gift (basically giving Jace head while he sits on the iron throne)

Warning : Lots of smut

Author’s Note: I’m super proud of this one guys!!!!!

Masterlist

Laughter echoed through the dimly lit halls as you pulled your husband along the winding corridors leading to the throne room of the Red Keep. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the ancient stone walls. “Y/n, what are we going in here?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and amusement. The grand, imposing doors of the throne room loomed ahead, promising an adventure within the heart of the castle.

You nodded to the guards, who had been informed hours earlier that you’d be bringing the prince here. You might have fibbed a bit, saying the new rightful queen had given her permission (and you might’ve bribed them with a little bit of gold, perks of being the princess and wife to the future king). Queen Rhaenyra had won the war less than a month ago, and you wanted to celebrate with the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Relax, my beloved," you giggled, opening the door to the Iron Throne. The throne stood before you, a menacing structure forged from a thousand swords, with jagged edges and twisted metal that symbolized immense power. "It’s just that ever since your mother took her rightful place as ruler, we haven’t had time to truly celebrate." His beautifully sculpted face showed of curiosity.

"I’m not quite understanding, ābrazȳrys." His whisper seemed to echo in the large room, but you maintained your cunning smile, excited for what was to come or whom. wife

"That’s alright," you said, your soft hands reaching out for his. Your heart blossomed as he took your hands in his and raised them to his lips. "Oh Jacaerys, you’ve always treated me like a queen." He smirked, kissing your skin again. You pulled his hands to your lips, mimicking his act of affection. "And I know this war hasn’t been easy for you or anyone, really, but the way you’ve presented yourself..." You paused to drag him over to the Iron Throne. "Was so honorable, noble... strong." You whispered the last part, knowing that every time he heard the word, he thought of his birth father, which still left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Your war strategies were far from princely. You acted as a king in the making."

"My sweet wife," Jace whispered, his voice trembling. Even in the dark, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, glistening like tiny stars. He gently cupped your face, his touch tender and reverent. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion as he gazed into your eyes, his love and vulnerability laid bare.

You immediately shook your head and motioned him towards the steps of the Iron Throne. “No, it is I who doesn’t deserve you,” you insisted, your voice firm yet filled with affection. As you guided him closer, the cold, unforgiving nature of the throne contrasted sharply with the warmth of your touch, emphasizing the depth of your bond.

"Impossible," he said with a playful grin. You giggled again and gave him a gentle push until he stumbled back and fell into the throne of swords, the metal clinking softly as he landed.

His eyes widened, and he immediately started to get up, but you placed a hand on his chest and pulled something up from the floor. It was a cardboard crown, meticulously crafted with painted details and shiny foil, resembling his grandfather's crown—or rather, now his mother’s.

“Y/n?” His voice was full of question as you plopped the fake crown on his head. “What are you—” Jace was cut off by your lips pressing against his. Nothing about the kiss was sweet or simple; it was full of hot need. His hands went to your cheeks while yours fisted his tunic.

"You are the queen's heir, my prince," you smirked as his eyes dropped to your lips, craving more. You happily obliged, licking his bottom lip and slipping your tongue into his mouth, moaning as he sucked on your flesh. You pulled away, hands reaching the bottom of his shirt. "You'll be my king, and as your future queen, I swear to you that there will never be a day where you aren't worshipped by me, your highness."

Jace’s eyes widened in sheer amazement as you lifted his shirt over his head. He eagerly pulled you closer, his hands cupping your face, as he guided you into a fervent, passionate kiss.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he murmured against your lips, his voice barely a whisper. Yet, he ignored his own warning, kissing the corner of your mouth before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your neck.

A sinister smirk curled your lips as you tilted your head to the side, allowing your husband to explore your neck with his eager kisses. "Don't worry," you whispered, the words drifting through the chilly, echoing chamber. "The guards have been paid off to alert me if anyone approaches, and I have a handmaiden rising extra early to tidy up any evidence of our indulgence."

Jacaerys drew back, his gaze locked onto yours. "You’re truly extraordinary," he said, his voice filled with genuine reverence.

"Only for those who truly deserve it," you replied with heartfelt sincerity. As you gracefully slid off his lap, you stood before him, your delicate fingers tracing a path down his bare chest, savoring the contours of his toned body. "And you, Jace, deserve the world. I intend to give it to you." You paused at the waistband of his pants, your fingers lingering on the button. "Now, let me show you how I’ll care for the future king, shall I?"

Before you could kneel in front of him, your husband grabbed your bicep to stop you. "At least use my shirt and pants as a cushion for your knees, issa ābrazȳrys." My wife

You hummed softly, then leaned back in to give him a gentle kiss, then felt the fake crown slip from his curls knocking against your head. The delicate touch of his lips sent a shiver down your spine. "Always the gentleman," you whispered against his mouth, your breath mingling with his. "Se bona’s skoro syt nyke’d zālagon se vys ilagon syt ao." The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment of unspoken promise and fierce devotion. And that’s why I’d burn the world down for you

Locking your eyes solely on him, you helped Jace out of his black silk pants, readjusting the decorative crown on his head. Then once he was freed from his clothes, you let them pool at his feet to use them as a cushion as you knelt in front of him. "Sit back, husband," you teased, pushing at his toned chest down to his abs, just above where his cock rested. Even in the seemly light room you could see the glistening tip as it slightly bounced in the air, begging for attention. "Let me worship you."

You grabbed his shaft firmly in hand, running your palm up and down the length, savoring the soft moans escaping his rosy lips. You smiled up at him as he sat back in his rightful throne, the one he would rule one day, and parted his legs, giving you more room to work with. Shifting closer, you spit down on his glossy head, circling your wrist from his tip all the way to his base, then leaned down to apply open-mouthed kisses to his thighs.

Jace's head arched back against the throne, his eyes locked on yours, pupils blown out with lust. "So pretty," you moaned against his skin, continuing your strokes and sucking on his fair skin, intending to leave marks for him to remember in the days to come. "All mine, my king."

"You were sculpted by the gods," he said, his voice rough and his hands fisted at the armrests.

"Hmm," you hummed against his thighs, kissing up until you reached his cock. You kissed the red tip, then licked a broad line from his balls back to the uncut tip of his shaft; tapping it against your tongue before indulging by taking it into your mouth. You moaned against his girthy size, sending vibrations along your wake. "It seems as though you were gifted heavenly yourself, husband."

Jace cursed to himself as you took him fully into your wet mouth, bobbing up and down, only managing to take him halfway in. You jerked the bottom half while your other hand fumbled with his heavy balls. "You're too good at this, my queen." Heat pooled within you at his praise, making you bob faster, wanting to please him.

Drool spilled from your mouth as you let him out with a pop, then sucked along the side of his shaft, tonguing his thick, protruding vein. You sucked back on the tip, moaning around him, making his right hand fly from the armrest to the top of your head, guiding you to sink your mouth back down until he reached deep in the back of your throat. "So fucking good, my love. Taking me so well."

Your eyes stayed locked on him as you ran a hand up his thigh, tracing his clenched stomach until you reached his nipple, pinching it. "Holy," he muttered, his eyes beginning to shut and his hips buckling under your touch.

When he bucked his hips, his cock slipped further into your mouth, making you choke, and you loved every second of it. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" he asked, panicked. You only pressed your hands down on his thighs, sinking your nails into his skin, and took him deeper, allowing tears to form in your eyes. You swallowed around him, causing incoherent words to spill from his lips.

You pulled back slowly, a glistening trail of saliva covering his entire mound and dripping down to soak the front of your dress. The sight was mesmerizing, the slick sheen catching the light as you panted, lips parted and eyes locked onto his.

Without thinking, you pulled your gown over your head, leaving you in nothing but your lace underwear and ankle lace socks. "Don't worry about me, dear prince." You squeezed the head of his cock, paying close attention to it, knowing it was the most sensitive, much like your clit. "If I were to choke to death from giving you pleasure, then I'd die a happy woman."

Jace let out a forced laugh, but it was cut off by a moan as you leaned back down to take his balls in your mouth, inhaling his natural musk mixed with the scents of lavender and bath salts. You loved the way he smelled; it was intoxicating.

You shook your head slightly, your tongue and lips still working over his sack, savoring every moment. As you pulled away to press soft kisses against his thighs, you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. "Are you enjoying yourself, my love?" you whispered, your voice laced with desire.

It was undeniable that the prince was lost in the pleasure you were giving him. His eyes were dark and blown out with lust, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart race. The veins in his arms stood out starkly, a testament to the tension coursing through his body, while his chiseled abdominal muscles were clenched tight. His lower half trembled with the sheer force of his ecstasy, a testament to the overwhelming sensations you were creating.

"Don't tease me, my future queen," he growled, his husky voice sending shivers down your spine. Your lips curved into a wide smile, knowing exactly the effect you had on him. "You know what you do to me." His painfully hard length brushed against your lips, evidence of his desire, as his hand caressed your cheek tenderly, the contrast between his touch and his need making your heart race.

"I know," you admitted with a sly smile, licking his tip before trailing your tongue down to his balls and back up again, savoring his taste. "But what would really make me happy is making you cum on your rightful throne, my future king." Before he could respond, you took him entirely into your mouth, beginning to bob up and down his length with unrelenting passion.

"Y/n," he moaned, slipping his hand back into your hair to help guide your mouth up and down his shaft. His grip tightened when your hand twisted around the base and the other cupped his sack, giving them a little tug. "My wife, I'm so..." he dragged out. "Close." You didn't let up.

Nothing could make you stop. Seeing Jacaerys' face scrunched up in bliss, his eyes staring down at you, as you pleased him on the Iron Throne was intoxicating. A literal dragon would have to drag you away before you stopped.

"I'm—" his breath hitched in his throat as you slurped and sucked on the tip of his cock, jerking the rest. "Fuck."

His hips bucked as his cum shot into your mouth, and you greedily continued. His salty essence was the best thing you had ever tasted, and you lapped it all up, even as his cock began to soften just a bit. Finally, when you felt like you got every last drop, you looked up at Jace with a cheeky, toothy smile.

"For you, my future King Jacaerys Velaryon," you said, slowly standing up despite the ache in your knees. His clothes had barely cushioned them, but his blissful expression held your attention. The kiddish fake crown slipped down, covering his eyebrows and pushing some of his brown curls into his face. Gently, you pushed the crown back up and brushed his hair aside, gazing down at him with nothing but love in your eyes. "I will always bend the knee."

Why do I always get obsessed with characters who die. Like I truly contribute to my own downfall. Mental health who???

~ Caroline

[mellowwillowy]

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐗

Featuring: Yan! King, Yan! Puppeteer, Yan! Knight, Yan! Priest, Yan! Aristocrat CW: Violence (on 𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭)

The King has always favored you among the beauties in the palace. His affection soars the moment 𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠's Queen was executed for conspiring with the other acolytes to bring him down.

He has always loved you so much that he will do anything just to have you seated next to his throne. He doesn't care about the advisors' bickering. They won't be able to speak anymore after all.

"Off with your head? No no, off with your tongue."

You might think 𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐫 is someone heartless and manipulative no? While you are not wrong, you are not right either. Have you ever seen him playing with the puppet, making the puppet you talk and kiss him on his cheek?

He looks so adorable when doing it until you realize the puppet might actually be made of your own skin and hair.

"Ohh, I love you! Muah muah!" "Ohh, I love you too darling!"

As an honored knight, it's only natural for 𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 to perform his duty earnestly, to bring down injustice, and to shield people from danger. So why would you even think that he is the person responsible for all the missing people?

All these missing people had done no wrong, and you have always been on good terms with them so you know, you know this person is not supposed to be publicly executed!

"Drop down the guillotine!"

The priest has always been a righteous man so why would you suddenly doubt 𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭? He has taught you so much and this is how you are going to pay him? By doubting him?

Bent over the altar, the priest binds your hands behind your back with the rosary as he chants prayer upon you. He is not the gentle loving priest you remember anymore as he forces your head down the holy water.

"Repent, my child."

He has always been a revered man, one deserving of the respect people showered him with. So why would an ungrateful little brat like you deny his love and mocked him instead? What makes you think that it's a great idea to deny what 𝐘𝐚𝐧! 𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭 wants?

His gloved hand meets your face in a strong hit. Your cheek reddens immediately as you struggle to keep your balance. You fall onto the ground with a loud thud and before you can manage to regain your composure, he kicks you right in your stomach.

"You ungrateful pet. You dare to bite the hand that feeds you?"

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

It has been a long time since I've written for the CatboX's Casts so let me introduce them to my new guests who only know LIfE Project casts (lol).

We'll start off with the King's actor, Caelus! He ranks third in the last voting poll as brother Stefan! Erickson as the Puppeteer, he ranks fourth in the last voting poll! He also appears in a story as a crown prince and king. Noel as the Knight and Priest, he ranks first in the last voting poll!!! (MY CHILD!!!) He also appears in the same fic as Erickson.

Last but not least, our beloved XL, Marlon, plays as an aristocrat. She lost to HYC (Yan! Emperor) in the last voting poll...

[auras-moonstone]

Hiii! Can you do y/n as a beloved princess who meets Ethan and they fall in love but y/n is set to marry a neighbouring prince also could reference the song enchanted by Taylor ☺️

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ putting roots in my dreamland — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.8K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: florist!ethan landry x princess!fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: wanting to get away from the reminder of her upcoming marriage, y/n goes to the flower market where she meets a florist who charms her instantly.

���𐭩 contents/warnings: cheating (kind of.) forced marriage. affair. flowers. royalty. fluff.

ᡣ𐭩 author’s note: this is inspired by the song ivy by taylor swift!

ever since her father informed her of what awaited her, y/n felt like a whole other person. her body became just flesh and bones, it felt like her spirit and soul were sucked from within her. she felt completely empty from the inside. everything was ripped away from her—her power, her girlhood, her choices, her freedom, her future.

y/n was born with royal blood. she was created with the mere purpose of ruling the kingdom once the king—her father—left this world or decided he was no longer fit to fill that position. was she thrilled for taking the power? no, but it was her legacy, and she had accepted it a long time ago. in fact, she thought she would someday make a fair leader.

what she dreaded, though, was the marriage part. how she wished people could realize queens needed no man by their side. they could do everything on their own. but people loved the picture of a perfect family, even if it was all fake. so now y/n was doomed to a life of misery alongside a man who she felt nothing for.

prince james was attractive, and that’s where his positive traits started and ended. he was egoistical, vain, spoiled, a small man who believed he was big just because he belonged to one of the last great american dynasties. y/n hated men like him, and had known lots of them throughout her life. she was now going to share last names with him, and that repulsed her more than anything else.

“where are you going, sweetheart?” the voice of his father stopped her before she could reach the handle of the door.

“flower market, dad.” she said with a vacant stare.

her father sighed, he never understood her fascination with said place. but thankfully, he never prohibited her from going just with the condition that she would be careful not to let anyone recognize her.

her father sighed, he never understood her fascination with said place. but thankfully, he never prohibited her from going just with the condition that she would be careful not to let anyone recognize her.

y/n swallowed the knot she felt in her throat. “yes, father.”

the mention of that event felt like a stab through the chest, and everything in the castle reminded y/n of her faith, which was why she needed to get away from that overwhelming place as soon as possible.

walking through the beautiful market cleared her mind. how could it not? the flowers were so bright and full of life, it only fuelled her obsessions with them.

she stopped in front of the prettiest shop she had ever seen, it was called the ivy, and it was covered by said plant and small colourful flowers. “how would i love working here.” she whispered dreamily.

“wow, you aim pretty low in life.” a deep voice joked from inside the small shop.

the person caught her so off guard that she accidentally lifted her head too fast, making the hood of her cape fall down, uncovering her face. y/n heard the boy’s small gasp and dragged him inside the shop.

“you’re—i’m so sorry, your majesty.” he went to do a reverence but she stopped him.

“please don’t do that, and don’t call me that. y/n is just fine.” she smiled softly. the pretty boy just stood there in complete shock. “and your name, flower boy?”

“uh- e-ethan. landry. ethan landry.” his cheeks were practically on fire and y/n found that insanely cute. he was insanely cute.

ethan was very tall, had broad shoulders, biceps to drool for, adorable brunet curls and the prettiest brown eyes she had ever seen. the flower market had just gotten better.

“well, ethan landry, you have a breath-taking little shop.” she said, looking around the small place.

“thank you. it was my grandma’s.” he smiled melancholically. “what’s your favourite flower?”

y/n smiled widely, loving the question. “guess.”

“well, i think dahlias go really well with you.” flirting through flowers, that he could do. for a moment, he forgot he had a member of royalty standing in front of him.

[a/n: according to google, dahlias symbolise pride, inner strength, elegance, beauty, and creativity.]

y/n blushed beautifully and ethan’s heart did somersaults. “well, thank you. i’m glad that’s your impression of me because lately i’ve been more of a red carnation.”

ethan frowned. carnations were associated with death and sadness. “would i be too forward if i asked what’s wrong?”

y/n looked deep in thought. truth was, she shouldn’t spill her secrets to a stranger, no matter how kind and innocent he looked, but loneliness was the only thing y/n had know her whole life and ethan was opening a door that had always been closed. she just gave in.

“i’m getting married, and prince james is…”

“ugh.” ethan scrunched his nose in disgust.

the princess let out a small laugh. “my exact thoughts. and as you can tell, it’s not something i want. i know, you might say, that’s common in royalty, that’s your duty—“

“that’s not what i think at all. no one should be obligated to marry someone they don’t love.” he said softly, his heart hurting for the young girl. “i don’t know what to say so this is the best i can do.”

y/n attentively watched him as he prepared a bouquet of flowers. sunflowers—the symbol of vibrancy, of positive energy. the perfect selection if you wanted to cheer someone up. ethan wanted to cheer her—a girl who he had met ten minutes ago—, and suddenly her chest felt like exploding. for the first time in a while, she felt something other than negative feelings.

“for you, princess.” the word sounded beautiful coming from him. he had said it as more than to address her title, he said it as a nickname, all flirty and sweet.

“thank you, flower boy. but are you just going to gift them to me? i feel kind of bad, i’m disgustingly rich.”

ethan laughed. “don’t worry about it. it’s totally worth it if it helped you feel a bit better.”

“it did. thank you. they’re so beautiful.” she hugged them to her chest.

“so you two have something in common.” he blurted out. and then shook his head. “that was way out of line, i’m so sorry. please don’t cut my head off.”

“i’m not the red queen, you’re safe.” she laughed. “i better go… thanks for everything. you’ve made my day ten times better.”

“i’m glad to hear that… and, if you need some place to be free, you’re always welcome here.” what he also meant to say was i want to see you again.

“that’s a dangerous thing to offer. you might have me here everyday.” she joked, although it wasn’t really a joke.

ethan shrugged, a grin splashed on his face. “i wouldn’t be opposed to that. you can help me run the shop.”

y/n’s entire being lit up. “are you serious?!”

“of course.”

“see you tomorrow, pretty flower boy. it was enchanting to meet you.” she said as she walked out of the shop with such a grace that ethan was left hypnotised. he knew for certain that his thoughts would echo her name until he saw her again. he prayed that she would stay true to her words and come back. he hoped it had been the very first page, and not where the storyline ended.

ethan’s wishes came true. y/n went to meet the gorgeous flower boy every day. week after week they shared that little space together, getting to know each other deeply.

the flower shop became y/n’s happy and safe place, everything she needed was there—flowers, freedom, normalcy, ethan.

she couldn’t believe how much that boy had changed her for the better. he had brought forth a glow so incandescent to her life that she felt that her spirit and soul, which she thought were lost forever, returned to her bones. he now was all over her like ivy on a house of stones.

“wow, eth.” y/n said amazed.

“i know it’s not much…” he said embarassed.

“eth i’d exchanged my palace for this every time. it’s so cozy and… alive. just like you.” ethan gave her a sweet smile and hugged her. and against his chest, she murmured. “like me… when i’m with you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that or…” he hesitated.

“or…?”

“or i might kiss you. and if i do, i might have to keep you forever.” his face, unlike other times they had flirted, was serious. there was no joking around now, he was speaking his truth.

“then you should kiss me right now. but just so you know, even if you don’t do it, i’m still keeping you forever.” y/n caressed his soft cheek. “you make me happy, eth.”

ethan pressed his lips against hers softly, carefully. it was a slow kiss, they took their time savouring the moment, the strong feelings that came with the connecting of their lips. it was nothing less than perfect.

ethan was the first to break the kiss, he needed to get the words out of his chest. “get away from that life, y/n. you could move here with me, work in the flower shop… maybe marry me? it doesn’t have to be now now, but in the future? i don’t see myself with anyone else. i’m only yours.” he let out a nervous chuckle.

hope filled her chest like spring breaking lose after a really cold winter. there were many reasons to say no, most of them regarding the fear of something happening to him if james found out. but, for the first time in a while, she felt fearless. “yes.”

“yes?” ethan asked surprised.

y/n nodded eagerly. “yes, yes, yes.” she hugged him tightly. “i want to do all of that. hell, i’ll marry you right now.”

“yes. yes, i don’t have a ring, but i’ll go get one right now.”

“stop stop.” she laughed. her smile fell softly, and ethan was scared for a moment, “i need you to know what you’re getting into. if we are together, i don’t want to be in the dark, okay?”

“i don’t want that, either.” he assured her.

“and to avoid that, i have to come clear to my dad. im calling the engagement off, and that means i’ll probably be disinherited.”

“if you’re worried about money and a place to stay, don’t. this house is ours, the flower shop is ours. you won’t need to worry about that.”

“it’s not that, although it’s nice to hear. i’m scared about our lives, your life.” she whispered. “i know my dad will be furious, but he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. james, on the other hand, i don’t know where his limits lay. if he even has limits.”

“princess, look at me.” he said softly, and she obeyed. “i don’t care. he could burn this house to the ground and i still wouldn’t care. you’re worth everything. what we have, could have, is worth everything.”

y/n hugged his neck, pulling him close until their foreheads touched. “i love you so much.”

“i love you, too. so fucking bad my chest hurts.”

and as he said those words, y/n knew she was ready to go through the fight of her goddamn life for him.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

The Joker(s) And The Queen

Masterlist

Warning: I write the Reader as female

Pairing: Ace x Reader x Deuce

And I know you could fall for a thousand kings

And hearts that would give you a diamond ring

When I fold, you see the best in me

The joker and the queen

- Ed Sheeran, The Joker and the Queen

They are card soldiers and the duty of a card soldier is to serve his queen - but how could they be asked to do that when they’ve already sworn their devout and unyielding loyalty to you? 

If there was one thing that Ace and Deuce could agree on was that you were the best thing that’s ever happened to them. The otherworldly prefect who entered their lives in a blaze of glory.

It wasn’t no one’s fault that you can both brighten and lighten any room you entered, at how all eyes would immediately turn to you. You were someone whose very existence demanded to be awed and admired and praised. And as much as they were more than willing to do all of the above, they knew that they weren’t the only ones.

They would be fools to ignore how beloved you are by the student body, how you have every single student wrapped around your little finger, how despite not possessing a lick of magic in your body, you had become the most powerful being in school with the way you have the rich, famous and mighty treating you as if you were the reason the sun rose in the morning and set at night. It was clear that you were the object of desire of many - and for good reason. Despite your limitations, you were a pillar of strength, boldly facing every adversity that this twisted school threw at you. Your kind nature saving not only the overblotees but also many other students from a dark and tragic fate. Even with no magical abilities you’ve achieved the impossible and they knew that your circle of friends, which at first were only them, Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts, would only continue to grow and grow as more and more of their peers become aware of just how awe-inspiring you are and they are left to wither away in the shadows, left on the cold and dark sidelines to watch as you get pursued by people who are more worthy to bask in your light.

To say that someone like you is a rarity would be an understatement. In this school of villains, of conmen and crooks, tyrants and thieves, of dark beasts that would claw their way to the top through any means necessary, that would lie and stab to achieve their goals, someone as pure and angelic as you was simply unheard of. A celestial beauty so ethereal that even wild animals and woodland creatures are in reverence of you. Your existence was a siren’s call, and like moths to a flame, they are all ready to drown themselves if it meant they could take even a step closer to you.

You have princes, celebrities, men so wealthy that they could buy you an island and consider it pocket money, all ready to give you a life that even fairytale characters could only dream of. You have people with power who could give you anything you desire: titles, crowns, sceptres, the stars and moon. You had the literal world at your fingers and the ability to do whatever you wanted yet- 

Yet you chose them. The objects of your coveted affections, the ones who hold the honour of receiving your tender love and unconditional care, the ones who are blessed with the privilege of calling you theirs - are them. The two foolhardy, act-first-think-second boys who you had to save from expulsion on their first day.

It’s Ace’s eyes you meet from the bleachers of the gymnasium during a basketball match. It’s his name that you’re screaming, cheering and wearing - the bold, block-lettered ‘TRAPPOLA’ on the back of your jersey making it clear just who it is you came there to see. And if there were any fools that weren’t so sure, the breathtaking kiss he plants on your lips after he jogs over to your front row seat in the stands should seal the deal, especially when you reciprocate with fervent enthusiasm.

It’s Deuce’s jacket you wear when you run errands, the oversized black leather that once symbolised physical proof of his shameful past now proudly engulfs your shoulders, the silver ‘Spade’ as clear as day. It’s Deuce who you meet with at the end of his track and field club, it’s his tie that you elegantly loop around his neck and expertly loop into a windsor knot before tugging him towards you and pressing his lips against yours.

It’s them who you open up to, who you let your walls down and tears fall, who you allow to embrace you in your darker moments. It’s them who you run to in your times of joy, who you hug and kiss in elation, not caring who might be watching. It’s them that you praise, that you brag about to others. It’s them who has your full attention. It’s their hands that you hold. It’s them that you invite to Ramshackle and who you snuggle up against late at night.

They showed you the worst of them, from the first day they met you it was clear that they were nothing but trouble: a brash class clown and a violent former gangster yet with all of that, with all the trouble they’ve given you and continue to give you, you still chose them.

Every single day, you choose them. You take their weaknesses and polish them into strengths. You always see the best in them, despite the many instances where you would’ve been well within your right to not. Instead of letting them drag you down, you brought them up, lifting them into the pedestal that was your love. You support them wholeheartedly, in their dreams, passions and pursuits. Never once do you listen to the whispers of others, the ones that call them no-good, tactless mischief makers who would only bring you trouble - instead you’re the one who defends them, who is more than ready to defend them in a blink of an eye.

They know that you’re too good for them, that their reputation is rightfully deserved but please continue to indulge them. Like you are now, with your blissfully sleeping body sandwiched between them, happily snug inside both of their embraces, let them continue to worship you, to covet you like the beloved Majesty you are. Let them continue to hear the words you sleepily whispered to them before you sailed away into the silver mist of your dreams.

“I love you boys”

A card soldier lives to serve his queen so please continue to choose them. They’ll be sure to spend every breath in this life and the next, swearing their hearts, bodies and souls to you in eternal servitude. 

“What do you see in them?” A Pomefiore first year asks you as the two boys are once again being scolded by a teacher for unruly behaviour during class.

You gaze lovingly at your boyfriends, the two that you know without question would stand by your side - the ones that have always stood by your side, since the very beginning - and all you can see is their courage, their loyalty, the fact that no matter how scared you become in this strange, magical new world you know that you have no reason to fear anything if you have those two. 

The only possible answer you can give to your classmate is, “my future.”

How was I to know?

It's a crazy thing

I showed you my hand

And you still let me win

[yandere-writer-momo]

baki yarems in royal au?? I personally think, yn would be a princess, katsumi as a prince. Maybe hector as her personal stylist? idk about the others tho... What do you think?

You are the fifth and only unmarried princess in your family. You are incredibly naïve and innocent of the world because you’ve been locked up for most of your life. So you don’t quite understand how dangerous words and actions are in society. Perhaps that’s why you caught so many troublesome men’s eyes?

Hector Doyle is your personal butler. He picks out the best outfits, and he always knows the juiciest gossip about your suitors. He is very good at protecting you, and he is still an assassin on the side. You two have been together since childhood and he knows everything about you… so why don’t you just accept his barely concealed feelings for you?

Hanayama Kaoru is a tyrant king from the north. He is a very cold and war hardened man. He has interest in you after you stood up to the other nobles who were slandering his name. How could a stranger have such kind words to say about him? Unless they had a crush on him… he’s the first to ask your father for your hand in marriage.

Matsumoto Kozue is your lady in waiting! She has known you since childhood and she is your best friend. She loves being able to be as close to you as possible. She knows her feelings for you are ‘wrong,’ but she just can’t help herself. After her engagement was broken off with her lover, you consoled her and she has been attached to ever since.

Orochi Katsumi is the crown prince of a neighboring country. He is a very beloved prince and revered for his kindness. He was shocked when you didn’t acknowledge him and instead chose to dance with your lady in waiting at the ball. You spent your time at the food table and joking with servants. He eavesdropped on your conversation and heard you asking about their children. He fell for you at first sight. He was second to ask your father for your hand and he wouldn’t take no for an answer! He believes you two are soulmates! (You haven’t even spoken to him).

Jack Hanma is your personal knight. He was a child born from conquest (he has no idea he’s half royalty) and abandoned in the streets to die, but you urged your father to take him in. You were his savior and for that, he would devote his life to you. Jack would protect you from anyone or anything. He’s working hard to earn a title so he can ask for you hand in marriage… if not, he will convince you to run away with him. Once he finds out he’s Half royalty, he fights to become a prince. He’d do anything to be with you… he wants to be with you

Baki Hanma is a Duke from the West. He is Kozue’s ex and he is known to be quite pretty. But he is extremely power hungry. You are the only one unfazed by his looks and his power. You don’t like him but he’s intrigued by you. You were once very kind to him in his youth (big sister energy) and he fell for you. You’re the reason why he broke off his engagement to Kozue. So why won’t you accept him?

Kaioh Retsu is a diplomat from the East. He is very kind and chivalrous. You were the only one who warmly greeted him in the castle and held conversation with him. The two of you share knowledge about each other’s cultures and you two drink tea together a lot. Retsu is actually a prince from a foreign country disguising himself as the diplomat. And you were the perfect candidate to unite your respective countries…

Shinogi Kureha is the high priest. His word is law. He might have even more power than your father, the king. So when he heard about his precious childhood friend being pursued by so many people, he immediately spread the word that you’re meant to be the saintess! He completely made it up but no one needed to know that… after all, who would question the word of the almighty? Didn’t Kureha deserve happiness after devoting so much of his life to a higher power already?

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Colour of Blood

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Sylva Martell) Warnings: Canon typical sexism. Canon typical violence. Enemies to lovers. Smut. Word count: ~5.3k

Summary: Unity between Dorne and the realm is long overdue. While Qoren Martell is not prepared to yield his beloved country to the rule of the Targaryens, he is willing to compromise with peace. In exchange for Daeron being sent to live as a ward of House Martell, Qoren surrenders his youngest daughter, Sylva, to House Targaryen. Peace, however, is the furthest thing from Sylva's mind. Based on this request.

Moodboard by the wonderfully kind and talented @ruby-dragon

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

“Go to King’s Landing and make me proud.”

The words of her father repeat over and over again in Sylva’s mind as her carriage and the accompanying entourage make the long journey from one capital city to another. She already misses Sunspear, the air grows colder the further north they travel. The gooseflesh prickling the tawny flesh of her arms serves only to stoke the anger that has been simmering inside of her ever since her father broke the news that she is to be a ward of House Targaryen.

Since the Dornishmen helped the Triarchy to beat back the realm’s defenses in the war for the Stepstones, King Viserys has been desperately trying to unite Dorne with the rest of Westeros. Sylva knows her father will never bend the knee; Qoren Martell is too proud, but she is less than pleased with the compromise that has been struck.

A bid for peace between the two kingdoms has been proposed. Prince Daeron Targaryen is to travel to Sunspear to be hosted by her family, and in exchange Sylva will be housed under the roof of the Targaryens. A prince for a princess. Sylva hates it. She knows being the fourth and youngest child puts her in a tricky predicament. Aliandra is set to inherit her father’s position as ruler of Dorne once he passes, while Qyle and Coryanne are in the midst of being partnered with highborn suitors. She has never felt more like a spare part, something disposable to be traded like livestock in her father’s politicking.

Sylva blinks back her tears, hardens her heart and allows her fury to consume her. She decides she hates King’s Landing the moment she steps out of the carriage. She wrinkles her nose at the unfamiliar smells and shivers at the chill she feels in the air. The people are pale faced and ugly, their manner of dress looks frumpy and uncomfortable. Her heart aches for home, she wonders when she will see it again, if she will see it again.

As she is guided around the Red Keep she is startled by the lack of imagery of R'hllor. It appears to her that everyone here follows the faith of The Seven, the lack of reverence towards the Lord of Light makes her uneasy. She is shown to her quarters and immediately struck by how dull and grey everything seems, she longs for the vibrant hues of the tapestries and furnishings of Sunspear. All of the colour has been sucked out of the world here.

She is grateful, however, for the furs she finds tucked away in the armoire of her bedchamber. She keeps one clutched tightly around her shoulders throughout the welcome feast that’s held in her honour that evening.

“Are you not too warm in that, dear?” Alicent leans across, brown eyes filled with concern as she touches Sylva gently on the arm.

Sylva does her best to bite back her resentment, Alicent has been nothing but kind to her since she arrived and none of this is her fault, yet she cannot help her sullen tone as she responds. “No, I find it rather cold here, compared to home.”

Alicent nods in understanding, retreating back into her own space and continuing her meal.

The food is bland and tasteless in Sylva’s mouth. The spice of snake sauce, mustard seeds and dragon peppers are alarmingly absent on her tongue. She picks at the food on her plate, unsure of how she will struggle through it.

She is broken out of her train of thought when she feels the hot sourness of wine upon someone’s breath fill her nostrils. She turns to see the Queen’s eldest son, Aegon, leering at her.

“You know,” He slurs. “If you are cold, I have ways of warming you up.” He winks, raising his wine cup to her before taking a long drink.

She grimaces, turning away as he titters beside her.

“Oh come now, I was jesting. I thought your people were supposed to be promiscuous.”

“Enough.” Alicent warns him sternly. “Go back to your seat, or I will have Ser Criston return you to your quarters.”

Aegon huffs, obviously deflated, and slumps down into his chair.

When Sylva looks up she notices the single eyed gaze of Alicent’s second son, Aemond, upon her. It is intense and unblinking. She expects him to avert his eye, embarrassed to have been caught staring, but he continues, his expression passive and unreadable.

She is overwhelmed by the sense that if she looks away then somehow she will lose in this exchange, and so her dark eyes lock with his blue one, until Otto announces that it is time they all retire for the evening, and they shift their focus away from each other.

Sylva is glad that the day is finally at its end. She is exhausted from her travels and utterly miserable. She is unsure of how she will ever get used to it here.

As her hand reaches for the handle to the door to her bedchamber, she feels a presence lingering behind her. She turns to see Aemond hovering behind her, stoic and unreadable as he has been all evening.

She is about to ask him what he’s doing when he speaks. They are the first words she’s heard come out of his mouth since she arrived and she is surprised by the softness of his voice, a contradiction of how intimidating he appears.

“I wanted to apologise for how my brother spoke to you earlier.”

Sylva nods, giving him a tight lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “It is fine. I have heard worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” He says smoothly, keeping his arms clasped firmly behind him. Sylva wonders if perhaps there is a rod of sorts inserted down the back of his tunic, such is the rigidity of his stance. “But now you are here you will learn what it is to be a proper lady.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asks, as her eyes narrow with a combination of confusion and mild irritation at the direction this interaction is taking.

Aemond tilts his head as though thinking carefully about his response. “There is a certain depravity that is common among your people. You’ll learn what it is to be civilised here.”

The anger that has been simmering inside of her all day finally reaches its boiling point. “My people?! Isn’t it your people that marry off brothers and sisters?! I would rather hail from a land that celebrates depravity, as you like to call it, than one that operates under the illusion of propriety while brothers and sisters fuck behind closed doors!”

It is the first time she sees any visible trace of emotion on his face as his eye widens, he opens his mouth to speak but she holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I have heard enough from you. Have the evening that you deserve.”

She storms in her chambers, slamming the door heavily behind her. Her sleep is fitful that night, her surroundings too unfamiliar for her to ever drift off properly.

The next morning when she awakens, she is saddened not to be greeted by bright sunshine when she looks out of the window. The sky is overcast and bleak looking, a sight she is not used to. As her eyes scan the surrounding area of the Keep, she notices a group of men sparring and for the first time since she arrived in King’s Landing, Sylva feels excited.

Her father had trained all of his children in the use of a sword, ensuring they were all proficient fighters. It was one of the things she enjoyed most in the world. Wielding a weapon made her feel powerful.

Hurriedly, she braids her long, dark hair and dresses in breeches and a loose fitting shirt over her underclothes, before pulling on boots and rushing her way out of the castle, towards the training yard. She approaches the man she assumes to be in charge; a Knight that Alicent had introduced her to as Ser Criston Cole. He stands watching the fighting while delivering instructions.

He bows his head when he sees her. “Good morrow, Princess. Have you come to watch?”

“I’ve come to join. Where may I find a sword?”

His eyebrows raise as his mouth parts in shock. “Princess, ladies cannot join. You could get hurt.”

Sylva rolls her eyes at this. “In Dorne, women fight alongside men. There is a higher likelihood of me hurting someone than the other way around.” She folds her arms, looking at Criston indignantly.

“I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?” He says with a sigh.

“No.” Comes her flat response.

“Very well. If you can find something that fits, there’s light armour and blades over there.” He points to a shed on the other side of the yard.

Sylva nods and goes to retrieve what she needs. When she steps out she is immediately met by the sight of Aemond. He visibly bristles when he sees her.

“Cole! Surely you are not allowing her to spar? She is a woman!”

“The Princess insisted, Aemond. Who am I to deny her?” The Knight responds with a perplexed shrug.

“Well, I’m not sparring with her.” He says indignantly.

Sylva laughs, though it is mocking and without any genuine mirth. “Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”

“A fight against a woman would be little challenge.” Aemond says haughtily.

“Prove it.” She counters. “Unless you really are scared?”

Aemond’s nostrils flare as he exhales with irritation. “Fine.”

He raises his weapon, and widens his stance. Sylva does the same.

Aemond swings at her, always ensuring to keep her clear of his blind side; he is quick, but not quick enough for her.

Sylva laughs as Aemond's eye widens in surprise as she rounds on him with her sword, beating him backwards.

"No wonder your uncle lost so spectacularly to my father if this is how you Targaryens fight." She hisses.

Aemond's nostrils flare again, a noise low in his throat rumbles, indicative of anger. "I am not my uncle!" He seethes, charging at her.

She blocks his attack with her shield, discarding the now useless wood as it splinters beneath his blade. The impact causes Aemond to stumble back a little and Sylva seizes the opportunity to square up to him in his vulnerable position, the tip of her sword mere inches from touching his throat.

"Well met, Princess." Criston calls from across the training yard, signalling the end of her and Aemond's sparring.

"That isn't fair!" Aemond calls out to him. "She didn't best me, I tripped!"

"You didn't trip, you lost." She smirks, bumping his shoulder with hers as she moves past him towards the training yard shed to discard her light armour.

She hears Aemond enter behind her a few moments later and begin to remove his own. Feeling his gaze upon her now she is just in her undershirt, she turns to face him, eyes narrowed.

"What are you staring at?"

Aemond huffs, facing away. "Nothing. Merely surprised there isn't the body of a man hidden beneath your armour."

She scowls, snatching up her clothes and moving to leave, she will dress in her quarters she decides. She pauses as she reaches the door, casting a look at Aemond as he stands in a similar state of undress.

"I am surprised to see there is the waist of a woman hidden beneath yours."

As she bathes in preparation for dinner that evening, she casts her mind back to how Aemond had looked at her earlier. She smiles at the thought, knowing she had clearly flustered him. She wishes to rile him further.

Braving the chill she feels in the air, she opts to leave her fur behind when she heads down for the evening meal. Her long, flowing silk gown cuts in at the waist and leaves her shoulders bare. It is a style that is common in Dorne, but Sylva knows it would be considered entirely inappropriate in King’s Landing. The only reaction she cares about though is Aemond’s.

She sweeps into the dining hall, her raven tresses loose around her shoulders, as the skirt of her dress billows behind her. She smirks, feeling all eyes upon her as she takes her seat.

“It is good to see you aren’t feeling the cold so much today.” Alicent offers with a tight smile.

“Yes, I worked up quite a sweat beating Aemond in the training yard earlier.”

She turns from Alicent to him, catching the way his eye flashes up from her chest towards her face, the faintest tint of pink in his cheeks.

The dress was clearly having its desired effect. Good.

He clears his throat, turning his attention to his plate, ignoring his mother’s questioning stare. The rest of the meal passes in silence, though every time she glances towards Aemond, his eye is fixed upon her. He doesn’t dare to entertain the notion of yesterday’s staring contest, this time whenever she catches him he looks away.

Sylva goes to bed that evening with the smug satisfaction of knowing she has bested a Targaryen Prince twice that day.

Disappointed to see the training yard empty from her window the next morning, she decides to explore the Red Keep. She remembers little from the brief tour she was given on her day of arrival, her mood was too sullen to listen properly.

Her fingertips trail along the cool stone of the corridor walls as she wanders, until eventually she finds a set of large oaken doors. She pushes one open, slipping through to be met by the sight of floor to ceiling rows of books. She studies the titles on each of the spines, awed by the sheer number of tomes a single room can encompass. 

“What brings you to the library?”

She startles, broken from her thoughts and looks to see Aemond seated in an armchair by the fireplace, a book cradled in his long fingers.

She scowls. Sylva does not enjoy being taken by surprise. “I don’t see how that is your business.”

“I hadn’t realised you Dornish could read.” He says with an amused smirk.

“Fuck off.” She spits, turning to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond stands from his chair. “I…owe you an apology.”

Sylva quirks an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

“For…everything, I suppose. The manner in which I have treated you since you arrived has not been befitting of a Prince. Forgive me.”

“I’ll try.” She says, a hint of a smile playing upon her lips.

She is certain she sees the faintest flicker of one of his own tug at Aemond’s mouth, and then he speaks again. “You fight well, Princess, your father must be proud.”

Sylva sighs, chuckling bitterly. “If my father was proud of me he wouldn’t have sent me a thousand miles away to live with strangers.”

Aemond softens. “At least yours notices you. Mine doesn’t seem to realise I exist.”

“I am a spare.” She shrugs. “My oldest sister will rule Dorne in my father’s wake, my other siblings will marry into highborn families. I have been sent here purely for my father’s benefit, he doesn’t care about me.”

“Then perhaps we have more in common than we realise.” He concedes. “My brother will sit the Iron Throne once my father passes, an obligation he doesn’t want or deserve. Meanwhile, I study history and philosophy, train with the sword and ride the largest dragon in the world and I am overlooked.”

“Why aren’t you using any of that to your advantage?” She steps closer, her eyes never leaving him as she becomes more animated. “Like you say, you ride the largest dragon in the world and yet you allow yourself to be fettered here, when it serves no benefit for you to do so.”

Aemond hesitates a moment, looking uneasy. “It is…improper. I have a duty to my family.”

Sylva throws up her hands. “Who cares what is proper? Well behaved people seldom make history, you claim to study it, you should know that.”

“And what about you?” He counters. “You could have fought against your father’s decision to send you here, why not take your own advice?”

“If I’d have done that I’d have missed my opportunity to torment a Targaryen prince, a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

She grins and the smirk he returns is genuine. From that moment on, something between Sylva and Aemond shifts.

An unlikely kinship is struck between them, forged from an understanding of knowing they have rank without any real place in the world.

Over the course of the following month Sylva and Aemond grow closer. No longer does he object to her joining in in the training yard. Instead he asks to be paired with her, and the two learn from each other’s differing fighting styles, enjoying the challenge of attempting to best each other.

He sits beside her at meals, helping to fend off the unwanted attention of Aegon. They read about Dornish history together in the library and Aemond recites to her what he already knows, while Sylva entertains him with stories from her own personal experiences of her homeland.

Eventually, Aemond introduces Sylva to Vhagar. She has never seen a dragon before and the sheer enormity of Aemond’s leaves her speechless. She gasps at the roughness and warmth beneath her palm as Aemond guides her palm to stroke along her flank.

“You will need to meet her a few more times before she is comfortable having you on the back of her, but perhaps we could go flying together once she is?” Aemond suggests, not pulling his hand away from hers as it moves over Vhagar’s scales.

Sylva’s eyes light up with excitement. “Really? Where would we go?”

“Anywhere you like.” He smiles down at her.

“Could we go to Dorne?”

“Are you really so eager to return?”

“No.” She replies, and is surprised that she actually means it.

Her friendship with the One-Eyed Prince has brought colour into her life in King’s Landing, where previously it had been dull. The food no longer seems quite so bland. The feeling of homesickness that has sat heavily upon her chest feels like less of a burden to carry. For the first time since her arrival at the Red Keep she feels happy.

However, as the weeks press on she begins to suspect that Aemond is not fighting to his full potential when paired with her in the training yard. She no longer has to make an effort to disarm him, his attacking blows are not quite so aggressive as they once were. She is sure this is deliberate.

“Well fought, Princess.” Aemond says cordially as she knocks his sword from his hand yet again.

She throws down her own in frustration. “No, it wasn’t!” She snaps, before stalking back towards the shed. She has had enough for today and is tired of Aemond not taking it seriously.

She groans in irritation when he follows her a few moments later.

“Have I done something to upset you?” He asks, a trace of uncertainty in his tone as she keeps her back to him.

“Do you not think I am a worthy opponent?” She asks, peering over her shoulder at him.

“You are one of the most capable fighters I have ever seen.” He replies without hesitation.

She turns to face him fully. “So why are you letting me win? I have seen you train properly Aemond, you aren’t even trying.”

He takes a deep breath, directing his gaze towards the ground before back up to her. “You’ve never once mentioned my eye.”

Her brows pull together in confusion. “So? Why should I? It makes you no less of a man, you wield a sword better than most with the full power of sight.”

Aemond draws closer to her, the way he stares at her makes her breath hitch. In her relatively short life no one has ever looked upon her with such reverence before. “That is why I cannot bear to hurt you.” He admits softly. “No one has ever cared for me so deeply before, and I must confess, I…care for you too.”

Sylva is unsure of who moves first, but their lips meet and she feels a flutter of excitement in her belly as they kiss. His movements are uncertain to begin with, and she wonders if this is the first time he has ever kissed anyone. He learns quickly, however, a hand moving to the back of her head to tangle into her hair as his mouth works with more urgency against her own.

When they finally break away from each other, he rests his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy.

“I have wanted to do that for so long.” He whispers. “Our union will be what finally unites Dorne with the realm, and secures my brother’s succession.”

Sylva feels as though she has been submerged in ice water, she pulls back from him, hurt and anger contorting her features into a snarl. “You are no better than my father, I am just a political asset to you. I trusted you!”

She pushes past Aemond, leaving him to stare after her as she stalks back towards the Keep, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

She shuts herself away in her chambers and finally allows herself to fall apart, grieving for the life she has left behind in Sunspear, for the loss of her only friend in King’s Landing and for how utterly humiliated she feels for allowing herself to be fooled by him.

Aemond knows how much she resents being used as a pawn by her father and yet it seems to her he has had the same intentions all along. The betrayal of this stings more painfully than being passed off to the Targaryen family in the first place.

Sylva spends the next two weeks avoiding Aemond. She keeps away from the training yard, despite wanting nothing more than to run him through with a blade. She knows that would be unwise and likely cost her her own life. Dinners are an awkward affair, she keeps her eyes fixed firmly on her plate, refusing to look at him. The library becomes an area of the Red Keep that she no longer sets foot in, eager to avoid being in close quarters with the man who has broken her heart.

As the days drag on, Sylva hates that she is missing Aemond. She has no one to confide in, all of the colour has drained from her world once more, food is bland upon her tongue again. Everything that ever brought her joy in this wretched castle is so deeply entwined with him, she cannot bear it.

Apparently neither can he. 

The hour grows late and she is about to climb into bed when she sees the parchment slip beneath her chamber door. Gingerly she picks it up, unfolding it and beginning to read.

My dearest Sylva,

I have never been good with words, at least not ones that are spoken, it is often why I elect not to speak at all. You must forgive me, but I was a lonely child and have not had the practice of conversing quite so eloquently as I can when I put quill to parchment. It is why I have chosen to write you this letter.

I have been raised with a strong sense of duty and honour to my family. It was not my intention to hurt your feelings when I foolishly said what I said - I shan’t repeat the words, you know of what I’m referring to. I said what I thought I ought to, not what I wanted to.

If I had been able to speak my mind I would have said that you are all I think about. You drive me to distraction. My underperformance while sparring is not entirely due to my desire not to cause you harm. When the sun catches the beautiful brown of your eyes, they turn an amber colour that looks like liquid gold, I am unable to look away and so I falter in my movements. The exceptional shade and warmth of your dark hair leaves me longing to run my fingers through it. When I touched it for the briefest of moments when we kissed, I had never felt anything softer.

I do not want our union to be a political one, though I would be remiss to deny its advantages. I am a Targaryen Prince. All my life I have never considered the possibility of existing outside of that, but you see me exactly as I am. You see beyond my title, you see all that I could ever dream of being. And I want to be all of that, for you. I see you too, and I have grown to love the hot bloodedness that comes with your vivacious nature, the stubbornness that accompanies your unwavering integrity.

For me, it is not a want to be with you, it is a need. I hope you need me too. We will have whatever future you see fit for us. The last two weeks without you have made me realise that whatever path I take in life does not matter, as long as I have you by my side. If you will allow it, I will spend an eternity earning your forgiveness for my careless words. I hope the ones you are reading at this moment serve in some way to bring you comfort.

Yours faithfully,

Aemond.

Sylva clutches the letter to her chest when she is finished reading, her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage. There is only one thought in her mind; she needs to see him.

Abandoning all thoughts of sleep, she hurries from her quarters towards his, throwing open his door without bothering to knock. He hasn’t begun to ready himself for bed yet and she sees him turn towards her, startled by her sudden appearance in only the shift she wears to sleep in.

“Whatever future I see fit for us?” She repeats the line from his letter back to him.

He nods, his face hopeful as he stares at her.

“What if I want us to abandon our duties and travel the world?”

“Then we have Vhagar at our disposal to do just that.”

“What if I wish for us to remain unwed?” She steps closer towards him, eyeing him carefully.

“My love for you is more infallible than any marriage vows.”

Closing the gap between them, Sylva places her hands upon Aemond’s chest, his flesh is warm against her palms through his undershirt. “And what if I want to fuck simply for pleasure, and drink moon tea afterwards?”

His breath hitches, as his eye widens. His fingers wrap around her wrists, holding her in place against him. “If…if that is what you wish.”

“I thought you were going to teach me to be civilised?” She whispers.

“You are infuriating.” He mutters, before his mouth descends upon hers.

Desperate for each other after weeks apart, it is a messy clash of lips, teeth and tongue as they move towards Aemond’s bed. As they fall back against the mattress, Aemond breaks away to kiss down the expanse of her throat and chest.

Sighing in pleasure, Sylva threads her fingers through his silken hair, shrugging her shift away from her shoulders.

Aemond seizes the opportunity to pull it down, his hands smoothing over the supple flesh of her breasts. “You are beautiful.” He breathes.

“I want you, Aemond.” She murmurs.

Each of his touches feels like it leaves a trail of fire against her skin in its wake. Desire pools, sticky and warm between her thighs. She has not felt this kind of heat since she left Dorne, it is a sensation akin to the taste of fresh fruit after weeks of starvation.

“May I touch you?” He asks timidly, his fingertips grazing the inside of her thigh.

“Please do.” 

He exhales a shaky breath as the pads of his fingers make contact with the warmth of her center. “You are so soft here…”

“Have you ever touched a woman like this before?” She asks, as he drags his fingers experimentally through her sodden folds.

“No.” He admits, embarrassment heating his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Sylva smiles, cupping his jaw and kissing his lips softly. “Lay back. I will make it feel good for both of us.”

Aemond does as he’s told and Sylva makes quick work of undressing him, tugging his undershirt over his head and pulling his breeches off.

Her mouth runs dry at the sight of his hardened length. The tip rests against his lower abdomen, flushed pink and glistening with pearlescent fluid. She wraps her hand around the shaft, stroking softly and Aemond hisses through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” She asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Gods…” He grits out. “You know it does.”

She giggles. “It will feel even better inside.”

Sylva straddles him, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down slowly. Aemond’s eye goes wide as his jaw slackens at the sensation.

She gasps at the stretch of him inside of her and once he is fully sheathed within her, she leans forward, pushing Aemond’s eye patch away from his face with her middle and forefingers.

She marvels at the way the sapphire within the socket glimmers in the candlelight.

Aemond swallows thickly. “Do you wish to stop?”

“No.” She replies with an experimental roll of her hips. “Just admiring you.”

Aemond leans up, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down to him in a passionate kiss. “You are remarkable.” He whispers into her ear, once he pulls away.

Sylva sits back up, bracing herself against his chest with the flat of her hands as she begins to rock herself against him. Every drag of his length inside of her makes her feel light headed as her breathing becomes more laboured with the effort.

Clearly growing impatient, Aemond seizes her by the hips, meeting her thrust for thrust, the pace suddenly becoming much more intense. There is an insatiable hunger within his seeing eye, Sylva can see none of its usual blue as she stares into it, it is utterly eclipsed by the dilation of his pupil.

She snakes a hand between their bodies, circling her pearl as Aemond plants his feet flat on the bed, continuing to drive up into her.

“Fuck…I think I’m going to…” Aemond trails off, screwing his eye shut and biting his lip.

The sight of him so wanton with desire beneath her, causes Sylva to clench around him, her own climax steadily approaching as she continues to work at her bud.

“Let go for me, I’m close too.” She coaxes.

His strokes become sloppier as he nears his end, his stomach muscles contracting, with one last push up into her, he stills, pulsating inside of her with a groan.

The sensation provides the added stimulus that Sylva needs to fall over the edge and she comes apart around him with a strangled cry, tightening and spasming as he spills himself inside of her.

She collapses against him, panting for breath, and they lay together in silence for a few moments, simply holding each other and recovering from their respective highs.

“You have made me the happiest man in all the Seven Kingdoms.” Aemond rasps, pressing a chaste kiss to her hairline.

“Dornish depravity will do that to you.” She says with a lazy smile.

“You are infuriating.” He chuckles, pulling her tighter against him. “But I would have you no other way.”

[r0-boat]

Prince's Greatest Treasure

Human! Silas x Dragon hybrid! reader

Part 1 -sfw

Part 2 - nsfw

Wc: slight Stockholm syndrome, yandere, kidnapping, hitting and retaliation, biting

Young Crown Prince of his Kingdom of the Golden Sun and General of the most powerful army on the continent.

Silas Creed the charming 3rd prince quiet, Cold, and Stern yet soft, and awkward. A role model to soldiers and popular bachelor to King's looking to give him their daughters and sons' hands in marriage. No matter how many times fair noble women in there sparkling gems and with their elegant dresses, to whom gentleman with kill for a chance to have look their way try to seduce and get the Prince to catch their eye. But Silas was always distant paying them no mind for their was already another he loved.

Ah yes, it was love at first sight. That day he first laid his eyes apon you. He would have mistaken you for a forest nymph if it weren't for the beautiful scales a color that caught his eye that shimmered like pearls on your body which you meticulously washed as you bathed underneath the waterfall your long slender tail splashing against the water surface as you enjoy the cool refreshing is soak and Majestic horns sturdy and a symbol of your power yet clean and sensitive judging by how your fingers and palm graze against them. And you wings a dead giveaway to who you were. Outstretched with a pleasant smile on your face the sound of the waterfall and the coolness of the water against your skin and scales how do you distract it as the Prince crept closer enamored by your beauty. Hypnotized by other attributes of your human form, a hand over his armor chest as if trying to calm the beating in his heart.

He had once heard stories tales from senior nights of his army about the the terrible yet feared and revered dragons. Revered as great creatures and some even gods if one were to encounter a dragon run and pray it does not find you...

But even so, how could a beautiful, gentle creature like you do such harm? Was a thought in his mind at first before he had armies track you down and catch you. You are not only captivating but you are powerful. Fighting your hardest against the chains and ropes that held you down. No matter how hard you flap your wings you cannot stop the hordes of humans that held you to the ground.

Like a bird in its caged there you sat.

Human tales talk about royalty being held captive by a dragon in a high tower you scoff at the irony now. Has he days out the window being held steel bars enchanted with a strange magic that won't let you break free. Your wings itch to feel the winds beneath them to grow into your bigger form and take to the skies once more.

Your eyes gaze over at bars to see your captor. Silas with a loving smile on his face. How could a man who robbed you of your freedom smile like that?

"Beloved? Are you busy? May I come in?" Silas speaks in a gentle tone. Even though there was no privacy between you and him since he is refused to give you the courtesy of walls and a proper door he still asks to come into your 'room.'

Even as you do not answer, he comes in anyway, of course, gazing at you with an unblinking stare. You could almost feel his obsession with you, making you feel as if you were naked. With his intense stare, he slowly stalks toward you. That gaze now growing soft when he stands before you, his hulking figure towering above you before getting on his knees but not before holding your hips and gently turning you, wanting no craving your attention on him, Making you look down at him as he lays his head into your lap. You could kill him. You could sink your claws into his stupid flesh and rip him apart till he stops breathing, unleashing your anger in a horrid roar.

But-.

Silas smiles, nuzzling himself against your thighs. He takes his place beside you. You keep your eyes on him. Your gaze is filled with malice yet fear, but you're looking at him, and that's all he cared about. Those deep amethyst eyes you've grown to fear look at you with such love. This is hand brushes against your cheek, going down to your neck to rub against the iron and gemstone collar faceted around your neck. His proof of his love but to you, your handcuffs, the artifact that's keeping you here, sapping away at your strength until you are but an ordinary human with dragon features. Faceted tightly around your neck since the first day he brought you to the ground.

He holds your chin leaning close to press his lips against yours. Only for you to finally react, putting your hands against Silas's cold armor and pushing him away. Which made him frown, his eyes filled with hurt, as if you've kicked him and not denied him a kiss

"This again? My darling, you hurt me by denying me of your affection; don't you see my heart aches for your touch every day? I've given you delicacies of the human world. Treasures beyond your wildest dreams, I would move mountains for you. What else can I do for you? What will it take for you to love me?!" Silas says, his voice getting more and more desperate as it shakes. As much as he wants to respect the little ounce of autonomy he has allowed you to have, your little silent treatment game was becoming tiresome. He can only take so much until he snaps.

However, you were beyond your limit. And the prince explaining his love for you, telling you that he would provide anything you could ever desire, was the one thing the final drop of water to be added to the glass picture to make it burst.

As he continues to babble the same words you've heard day in and day out. His useless cries of "i love you"'s , "i treasure you"'s and sugar-sweet words about every aspect he loves about you.

you feeling the dormant rage begin to bubble up, the frustration of not being able to fight back your sorrow of missing the blue sky you thought you could hold everything inside until the prince grew tired of keeping you as more of a pet then a suitor. The urge to claw his eyes out becoming overwhelming before bubbling over you saw watery red your emotions overflowing you-!

SMACK

You hadn't realized what you had done until you were already yelling. Your clawed hand had struck his face. Even with your strength sapped, you had enough power just to slash your claws across his cheek. Silas just froze his eyes wide with disbelief as you screamed.

"Then free me! Free me from this cage you call a castle! Free me from your suffocating hold! Do not and will not love you! I hate you!"

Something seems to have broken inside of him. From months of torture from ignoring him, not giving him your undivided love and attention, accumulating to you announcing your hatred for him.

Silas was not a patient man, being without you was like agony and only to see you rip his heart to shreds see if your heart sank with an instant regret when you saw his eyes darkening, his teeth clenched.

" I see that I have been to lenient on you-" the growls grabbing you by the throat and forcing you in for a kiss. Slip smash against yours his tongue immediately darting into your mouth forcing her mouth open as his fingers press against your cheek. Even by force tasting your mouth was everything he ever dreamed of the fluttering of his heart from his first kiss from you it's almost enough to subside his anger...

Almost.

"I do not care how much you scream and disrespect me you are not leaving this place. You will love me you will learn to love me."

" and if I have to force you, then so be it." Silas said all tone in his voice and his expression dying before he lays a hand on you instead of gently caressing your skin he grabbed you with force, greedly grabbing at you. And with his sheer overpowering strength He easily manhandle you, holding you down; eager, hungry to feel his lips against your precious skin, desperate to make you see to make you realize his love for you.

Trapped in a cage which was this man's love, your options were thin, and you were getting desperate. For a moment, you started to feel that maybe this man's love for you in exchange for your freedom wouldn't be so bad. Especially now with those amethyst eyes burned red with rage. That soft voice he'd always speak to you in as he praised you for your beauty now loud booming. Those soft lips that he would like kisses upon your skin now snarl as he bites into your skin, leaving his mark of ownership. All he wanted was for you to love him. Was that really so hard to accept his gentle love and reciprocate?

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

In the year 1340, with the relentless approach of winter, a somber cloud of foreboding cast its shadow over Bagley Castle. Beneath a moonlit snowstorm, the royal family of Bagley convened in King Thomas's chambers. His grace lay gravely ill, a pale reflection of the powerful monarch he had been. Queen Priscilla, his devoted wife, cradled her ailing husband in her arms, the fever coursing through him like a relentless tempest.

King Thomas's children, Prince Henry, his wife Princess Philippa, their young son Harold, and Thomas's youngest daughter, Princess Corrine, stood by, sharing a somber vigil. Queen Cordelia, Thomas's eldest daughter and the Queen of Windenburg, was also present. They had all come to bid farewell to their father, a truly remarkable man who had forged a sprawling empire, shaping their destinies into the annals of history. Amidst the quiet desperation of the chamber, Prince Henry held his sister Corrine close, a pillar of strength as she wept into his shoulder, unable to witness their once indomitable father in such a weakened state.

In a poignant moment of lucidity, Thomas summoned his son. Henry, his heart heavy, approached the bedside, gently taking hold of his father's frail, cold hand. Amid the vulnerability of illness, Thomas's eyes held paternal pride and deep affection as he praised his son.

In heartfelt words, Thomas spoke of his belief in Henry's potential to be a resolute and capable King after his own time had passed. In this solemn exchange, Henry pledged his unwavering commitment to honor his father's legacy and to serve the Kingdom with the utmost devotion.

Then, with waning strength, Thomas called his eldest daughter, Queen Cordelia, to his side. He professed his profound love for her and offered paternal counsel. He urged her to remain vigilant regarding her husband's actions and to watch over her younger brother. Cordelia, with a gentle caress, reassured her father. She spoke with the wisdom of a seasoned queen, promising that he would witness the sunrise for many more days to come.

Yet on the following morning, an unmistakable shift in the atmosphere settled over Bagley. It was an eerie silence, a void, which resounded with the loss left in the wake of King Thomas's passing. Queen Priscilla, her heart shattered, had been a witness to her beloved's final breath. At the age of 59, King Thomas of Bagley had departed from this world, leaving behind a kingdom and a family forever changed.

In the solemn quiet, with grief etched upon every face, the royal family paid their final respects to their fallen patriarch. The king was dressed in his resplendent regal attire, his presence preserved for eternity. As his family grieved, they knew that the burden of the realm now lay on the shoulders of the new king.

With King Thomas's body carried to The Cathedral of Saint Jacob, all eyes in the room turned toward the newly anointed King Henry and his queen, Philippa. They realized that the weight of leadership had descended upon them, a duty they would bear together. King Henry gazed into the future, fully aware of the challenges and responsibilities that awaited him. He pledged to be a just and equitable ruler, upholding his father's legacy in the grand tapestry of history.

In the days that ensued, the solemn mourning that had hung in the air within the grand halls of The Cathedral of Saint Jacob transformed into jubilant cheers. This time, the occasion was the coronation of King Henry and Queen Philippa. As the archbishop reverently lowered the crown upon Henry's head, the young king felt the physical and metaphorical weight of his impending reign.

Then, with grace and dignity, he turned to Queen Philippa and gently placed the radiant queen's crown upon her head. In a touching moment, a smaller, exquisitely crafted crown was positioned upon the head of their young son, Prince Harold. These regal rituals marked the commencement of a new era for the realm of Bagley.

[chloe-spade]

Frozen Heart Prologue: Beware the Frozen Heart

Na na na heia na

Na hi ja na

Na heia heia na

Ja no a Na ha

Ha na hei o Ja na

No a na ha ha ja Ha ha ja

No a no Na ja

No a heia no Na va ja

No a no Na ja va na

No a heia no

No a no Na va ja

No a no Na va

Na na na heia na

Na hi ja na

⛄

This was a tale of two brothers, each unique in their way. The eldest, Malleus, exuded a calm and revered aura, while the youngest, Silver, was gentle and caring, especially towards the animal friends he had made. Yet, amidst these differences, their love for each other and the affection their father bestowed upon them remained unwavering.

But there is also one more difference that the brothers had.

⛄

Do you want to build a snowman?

C'mon let's go and play

I could cover this whole place in snow

I'm not supposed to though

Yeah, just do it anyway

Do it for your brother

Malleus, please, oh please

I can't do the things you do

⛄

Malleus was born with the extraordinary power to create snow and ice, a gift that set him apart from others. However, with his brother's unwavering support and the joy he brought to Silver with their shared snowman creations, Malleus learned to embrace his magic. This acceptance and the bond with his brother filled him with pride and empowerment.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Cheered Silver as he felt the magic around them.

⛄

You really want to build a snowman? ("You know I do!")

We'll stay up late and build that snowman! ("Yes!")

Me and you

Na na hi ja na

Na na hi ja na

Once there was a family beloved by all

A king, and two princes

And the story starts when they were small

⛄

"Boys, what have you been up to?"King Lilia laughed.

"Nothing!" The brothers called out mischievously as they watched the nanny waddle with her frozen butt, a sight that never failed to make them burst into laughter.

"I wish I had your powers," Pouted Silver.

"Me too."

King Lilia was the boys adoptive father, both under odd circumstances. Malleus's mother was unfortunately poisoned when Malleus was barely a year old, and Lilia was her proudest knight, especially her general. But on her deathbed, she made Lilia King of her kingdom and the father of her young son, Malleus.

He found Silver a few years later when Malleus was only 103. He was a young baby stuck in an unfortunate snowstorm, and his hair was as white as the snow around him. Lilia took him under his wing, and he took him in as his own for Malleus' amusement.

⛄

Malleus was a special child

From his first frozen tear

His magic filled his parents' hearts

With so much love and fear

⛄

"Malleus, no!" Lilia gasped. "What did we say?"

"Magic must stay a secret," Malleus sighed, "I'm sorry, Father."

"And there's just some things we can't do in public," Lilia added, sighing.

"Like run naked in the breeze!" Silver joked.

"Silver…"

⛄

Let the sun shine on

Let our hearts be light

Like this perfect, happy, shiny, summer day

Let the sun shine on

'Cause it's all alright

Together we can keep the storm at bay

⛄

King Lilia couldn't help but worry about Malleus's magic later in life, especially since he seemed to manage it quite well. However, the future can be very uncertain, and he hopes that one day, he can learn why Malleus was born with such an incredibly magical and potentially dangerous gift. He did promise Malleus's late mother that he would before her passing.

"Handshake time!" Silver announced, grabbing Malleus's arm.

"Okay, ready?"

⛄

One, two, three together

Clap together, snap together

You and me together

Knees together, freeze together

Up or down together

Princes crown together

Always be together

You and me!

Once there was a family

With secrets to keep

As rulers in a land

Where respect for the crown runs deep

⛄

"Freeze my butt!" Silver suggested, laughing.

"No way!" Malleus gagged.

⛄

And so the royal family is ever on display (Na na hi ja na)

And people loved the princes (Na na hi ja)

And watch them as they play

Let the sun shine on

Let our lives be free

Let the promise of our land be sure and strong

Let our hearts be warmed by this melody

All of winter long

No a no Na ja

No a heia no Na va ja

No a no Na ja va na

No a heia no

Na va ja na va

Let the sun shine on

Over Arendelle

Let the crown be strong

And let your love be true

Bless our children fair

Who we love so well

We will look to you

⛄

Stars appeared as Malleus and Silver played on the floor; underneath them were full of snow and ice figurines that Silver had made to create a small castle.

"And do you think we should have a royal stable?" Malleus pondered as he started to create some horses.

"Oh, most definitely." Silver nodded. "A prince always should have a horse; I heard it's supposed to be very princely."

Malleus laughed as Silver directed him to create the stables and the horses, but he couldn't complain. He loved his spunky younger brother and his crazy ideas; they gave him some reason to practice his magic and learn what he could do.

It always made him feel happy.

But that fun was shortened as Lilia walked in and couldn't help but laugh at the two on the floor.

"Oh my," Lilia giggled. "I can see why Silver loves horses so dearly. And always wants Malleus to make ice horses," he cleared his throat. "Alright, boys. It's time for bed. You know we have to meet up with the Kingscholars tomorrow morning."

"Ugh, not them again." Malleus groaned. "Leona's always so mean to me."

"Yes, but in order to be in peace, we have to get along," Lilia smiled and helped the boys onto their beds. "I can promise you that tomorrow will be much more fun than last time. But we need our boys nice and well rested."

Silver huffed. "Yeah, you can not get me to sleep."

"I can't?" Lilia challenged.

"Never!"

Lilia giggles as he takes Epel in his arms and starts to sing.

❤️‍🔥

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a river full of memory

Sleep, my darling, safe and sound

For in this river, all is found

❤️‍🔥

Lilia smiles as she hears Silver's tiny snores. He kisses his forehead before tucking him into the bed, then turns over to Mallues, carefully holding him in her arms, and sings more.

❤️‍🔥

In her waters, deep and true

Lie the answers and a path for you

Dive down deep into her sound

But not too far, or you'll be drowned

Yes, she will sing to those who'll hear

And in her song, all magic flows

But can you brave what you most fear?

Can you face what the river knows?

❤️‍🔥

Malleus always loves his mother's old lullaby. He doesn't know why, but he always gets good dreams whenever he listens to them before bed. His mother always ensures he's tucked in, which makes him feel even better. He stared at Lilia before he slowly drifted into sleep.

❤️‍🔥

Where the North wind meets the sea

There's a mother full of memory

Come, my darling, homeward-bound

When all is lost, then all is found

❤️‍🔥

Lilia smiled as they watched his sons fall asleep deep into the night.

Or so they thought.

🌷

Silver couldn't help but wake up. But he noticed the sun's peak through the dark sky, still yet to rise. And as his father's says, as soon as the sun's awake, so does Silver.

So, it wasn't a surprise that Silver decided to bother Malleus at the peak of dawn. It was always hard to wake up his older brother, but he knew that jumping onto him worked, as he noticed Malleus's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, creaking one eye open.

"Silver," he yawned. "Go to bed. You know that today's important.."

"I know, but the sun's awake, so I'm awake! I need to play somethinhg!"

Malleus pouted as he pushed Silver off the bed. "Go play by yourself then. I need my sleep."

Silver, now on the floor, pouted. But his eyes brightened with an idea that Malleus could not refuse.

So he climbed back onto Malleus's bed, using his hands to force Malleus's eyes open.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?"

Malleus looked at Silver with a sly grin. Even if he wanted to say no, Malleus couldn't pass up an opportunity like that. So, much to Silver's excitement, he got up and quickly and quietly went into the throne room, only the lights from the windows illuminating it.

"Come on!" Silver urged. "Do the magic!"

Malleus giggled and swirled his hands together, creating a snowball floating midair.

"Ready?"

"Yes!"

Malleus releases the snowball into the air, and with a burst, snow begins to fall. Silver jumped up and down, cheering excitedly.

"How about this?"

The floor becomes ice with a stomp on the ground, and they can skate on it. Malleus watched as Silver began to slide away, making him giggle, but that was only the beginning of the night.

"You know," Malleus hummed, "there’s a recipe to making a proper snowman."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh!"

❄️

A little bit of you, a little bit of me

A part that loves to dream

A part that swings from a tree

A little like me, a little like you

A part that’s nice

A part that’s naughty too

A loyal friend who is there no matter what

A big round belly

And a big bouncy butt!

He’ll love warm hugs and the bright sunlight

And he’ll really love the summer

But he’ll melt!

Yeah, You’re right

Oh! So we’ll build him back together

Yes, together, that’s the key

‘Cause he’s a little bit of you and me

⛄

"Okay, time for bed." Malleus laughed as he started to walk towards the door.

"What? No!" Silver gasped and went in front of Malleus, blocking him. "Time for more magic, please, and thank you!"

"Silver, you know I’m not supposed even to be doing this!" Malleus reminded. "And father will-"

"But your magic is the most beautiful, wonderful, perfectful thing in the whole wide world!" Silver complimented, his eyes looking amazed.

"Do you really think so?" Mallues pondered, feeling honored.

"Yes! So do it, please, before I burst from inside to outside!" Silver cheered and jumped.

"Okay, okay, don’t burst!"

Against his better judgment, Malleus created more snow, recreating mountains of it for sledding.

"Whoa!"

⛄

A little bit of you, a little bit of me

You do the magic, and I get to see

A little bit of fun

A little bit of fun in the middle of the night

A little bit of magic and it all takes flight

⛄

Malleus continued with Silver's urging. He couldn't help it, as it may be the last time before hiding his powers forever if his parents ever so desired, and it's nice to have fun with his younger brother.

Silver started to jump onto the mountains of snow, with Malleus creating more for Silver to jump on.

⛄

La la la lala lalala la la

This is so amazing! More, more, more!

A little bit of you!

Magic! Magic! Do it, Malleus, do it more!

A little bit of me

Me me me me me me me

Little bit of you, little bit of me!

Yippee!

⛄

Malleus laughed, but due to his excitement, he slipped down on the ice as Silver jumped again. Malleus, panicking, tried to create a new one, but with a slip of his fingertips, a sliver of ice magic zoomed toward Silver, striking him in the forehead. Luckily for Malleus, Silver landed on a new smaller amount of snow but was unresponsive.

"Silver!" Malleus cried out, rushing towards his unconscious brother. "Papa!"

He began to hold Silver close, the ground frozen as the snow crumbled around him. He watched as Silver's silver hair streak became a pale blue.

"It's ok, Silver, I got you," Malleus whispered, holding his brother close.

The doors slammed open as Lilia emerged, rushing towards his sons.

"Malleus! What happened?" Lilia asked. "This has officially gotten out of hand."

"It was an accident," Malleus whimpered."I'm sorry, Silver,"

Lilia picked up Silver and gasped at the sensation of his skin. "He's ice cold. What should we do," Lilia paused. "I know where we need to go, but we need to rush!"

Grabbing Malleus and a nearby horse, they zoomed toward the forest and onto the rocky mountains. As they began to walk, leaving the horses, Malleus looked around and saw geysers spilling warm mist into the air.

"Where are we?" Malleus gulped.

"The home of the trolls," Lilia explained. "They can help Silver."

Malleus nodded as they walked through. He clutched onto his father, trying to control the ice that formed beneath him, but it was futile.

"Hello!" he heard his father say. "Please, you have to help my son!"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Malleus whispered.

The shuffle of rocks collided with each other as they quickly zoomed past the family before revealing themselves as trolls. Trolls are known for having magic that extends generations, and they often help the unfortunate, so it was a good idea to bring Silver to them.

"What is the problem?" Asked The Elder Troll.

"My son, he was accidentally stricken with ice magic," Lilia explained, bowing down for the troll to feel Silver.

The Elder Troll raised his hand over Silver, feeling his cold forehead.

"It's not too serious," he mumbled, "but you should be lucky it wasn't his heart. This can be fixed by magic."

With the waves of his hand, The Elder Troll created various memories of Silver and Malleus playing in the throne room full of snow, but with the wave of his hands, each memory was transformed into a snowy mountain with formal winter wear.

"I have to get rid of each memory of magic," the Elder Troll explained. But you shall not worry; though he may not remember the magic, I will remain the fun."

"But he won't remember that I have magic?" Malleus asked. "That's unfair."

"I know," Lilia sighed. "But it's for the best."

"Oh, dear Malleus," The Elder Troll spoke up, leading Malleus towards him. "You, like your mother, have extraordinary magic, but with magic like yours…it's a gift, but it's an unfornate curse."

The Elder Troll waved his hand to create a view of Malleus using his magic, creating a magical snowflake. However, once he mentioned the word 'cursed, ' it turned red, and black mist created different mobs surrounding them.

"With dangerous magic, it can cause trouble. And with people who do not understand it," The Elder Troll explained. "They will find any ways to destroy it."

Malleus watched as the mob surrounded him and went to attack him, which caused him to rush towards Lilia in fear, now crying.

"Please, do not scare my son," Lilia lectured. "This will be avoided. We will do whatever it will take for him to control his magic. Malleus, do you understand?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then we shall be careful. We have to limit your contact with some of our people. No one should know," Lilia explained. "You will practice controlling it until you are ready. Until then, we have to do what we must….which means you and Silver.."

"Have to be seperated?"

"Only for the time being, I'm sure." Lilia smiled. "It's only for his protection. And don't worry, there will be times that you two will be together."

"I worry it could be a lifetime," the Elder Troll spoke. "But I do trust your judgement, King Lilia. Please to see it that Malleus is in full control of his powers."

"I will."

❤️‍🔥

"Mm," Silver groaned, nuzzling into the blankets.

"He's awake," Lilia announced. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Good morning, Father," Silver yawned. "What happened last night?"

"Oh, you were playing with Malleus and you hit your head," Lilia laughed and kissed his forehead. "Now, rest up and the maids will bring you tea in a moment."

"Thank you," Silver yawned. "Where's Malleus?"

"Getting ready for the day," Lilia answered. "Now sleep my son."

Lilia smiled and exited the room. Sighing, he walks over to Malleus's room, who is sadly staring at his mirror.

"You know this isn't permanent," Lilia said. "It's just until you can handle it. And I trust that you can, Malleus. Just hang in there."

"I will…I hope I can," gulped Malleus.

❤️‍🔥

A year has passed, and winter has arrived. Silver watched as the snow fell onto the ground excitedly. Silver rushed over to Malleus's room.

"It's snowing! Malleus!"

Silver grinned and knocked on the door.

🌷

Do you want to build a snowman?

C'mon let's go and play

I never see you anymore

Come out the door

It's like you've gone away

We used to be best buddies

🌷

Silver pouted, looking down underneath the door frame, trying to look for Malleus. But he couldn't find his older brother.

🌷

And now we're not

I wish you would tell me why

Do you want to build a snowman?

It doesn't have to be a snowman.

🌷

"Leave me alone, Silver."

Silver sighs and walks away, very upset.

"Okay, bye."

Malleus sighed. He was distraught that he made Silver cry, but it was for his protection. he didn't want to hurt Silver in the future, but he wouldn't if he practiced.

"I'm doing everything you said, Papa, and the gloves are helping!" Malleus grinned, happy.

"That's Good, but there will come a day when you have to stand before your people without them. You must be prepared for everything, Malleus. Now again," Lilia instructed.

"Conceal it, don't feel it," Malleus started.

"Don't let it show." Both finished.

Five years have passed since then; Silver, now only ten, rushed back towards Malleus's room, knocking on it again. He knows it's a loss, but he wants to try again. However, he was relieved that Malleus had started to hang out with Silver like he used to.

🌷

Do you wanna build a snowman?

Or ride our bikes around the halls?

I think some company is overdue

🌷

Malleus gasped as he saw Silver slumped onto the knight, pouting. He quickly rushed out to see Silver in the art gallery, jumping on the couches.

🌷

I've started talking to the pictures on the walls

Hang in there, Joan

It gets a little lonely

All these empty rooms

Just watching the hours tick by

🌷

"And what are you doing?" Malleus hid a laugh. "You look ridiculous."

"Letting the clock tick," Silver sighed sadly. "Oh! Malleus!"

Silver gasped and hugged his brother.

"It's great to see you too," Malleus laughed. "I can't believe you would talk to paintings all day."

"You're not around," Silver pouted. "So you don't have a say of what I do during my past time."

"Reading a book is a better idea." Malleus chuckles. "I hope you know that."

"Oh hush."

Malleus laughed, but his smile turned into a frown as he felt the ice beneath him. But he managed to keep his composure.

"How about we go outside together? Like a picnic."

"Yes! I'll ask the chef to make more sandwiches for us!"

Malleus watched Silver leave the room. Malleus groaned, upset that ice was forming around him.

"It's getting stronger! I can't laugh, I can't cry, I can't dream, I can't live without it bursting out!" Malleus hissed to himself. "Ok, Malleus, you got this. It's for Silver, remember that. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. You got this, Malleus..you got this."

"I got it!" Silver came back from the basket. "And I got your favoirte drinks as well, as it's hot outside."

"Yet, you ask me to build a snowman?"

"You like that question," Silver teased.

"I do. I do a lot," Malleus admitted.

"And besides, it does make me feel a little better with Father gone and all."

"It's only a few weeks, Silver," Malleus smiles. "You know Father, a strong and capable man who could survive a little war. He always writes to us."

"I know," Silver sighs as they enter the gardens. "I just wish it was all three of us, like old times."

"I wish that too." Malleus sat down. "Now, how about you tell me about your day? Other than talking to paintings?"

As Malleus listened to Silver, he felt worried about his powers. He wasn't supposed to be out of his room to talk to Silver, but what's the problem with being with his younger brother, even just for a short while?

"I'm so sorry," Malleus thought. "It's my fault we can't hang out like this like we used to, but once I manage my powers, I will. I know I will, I just have to pratice. But I hope that one day I get to tell you that you being here really helps my powers at bay. I am so lucky to have a brother lke you."

"Malleus!" called out a maid. "What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be in your room studying!"

"But, ma'am, it's just a small picnic, really." Malleus gasped as the maid dragged him away.

"I know but I am sorry, Malleus, but your father instructed that you stay in your room until your father has returned!"

"But-," Silver protested.

"Ah, let's not argue, Silver," the maid said. "Lest you also want to stay in your room, too?"

Silver backed up and looked down. "No, ma'am."

"That's what I thought."

🌷

Lilia came back only a few weeks later, but he was so severely injured that he was in a coma when he came back. When he woke up, he was happy to see his sons, both incredibly worried about him.

"My boys," he laughed. "I am so happy to see you again."

"I was so worried," Silver spoke, wiping his tears.

"So was I," Malleus added. "We thought you might've perished."

"Of course I wouldn't," Lilia laughed. "I have two sons that I still want to see. But I do have some unfortunate news."

"How unfornate?"

"Well, my advisor advised me that once Malleus become King, I will retire and step down as King. But that's not for a while, hm?"

"But I'm not ready," Malleus gasped.

"That's why I need to train you more than ever, Malleus," he said. "But don't worry, I'm still here. And look at you, managing yourself while I was gone. I am so proud of you, Malleus and you made a great king."

"I promise that I will work on it."

But the news made Malleus nervous, to the point that his room was covered in ice and snow. As he promised, he practiced his coronation every day. He was so busy that it was futile when Silver tried to get his attention.

Time had passed, and now Malleus was of age and ready to take care of the kingdom. He was still nervous, but he needed to calm down. Maybe he should take a walk?

He jumped as he heard a knock. It was Silver again.

🌷

Malleus?

Please, I know you're in there

I'm just wondering how you've been

Do you maybe want to take a walk

Or sit and talk or let me in?

Are you ready for tomorrow?

It's your big day. Is there anything I can do?

🌷

Malleus, against his better judgment, opened the door.

❄️

Do you wanna build a snowman?

❄️

Silver grinned and took Malleus's gloved hand. "How about a quick trip to the libary? Just the two of us?"

Malleus looked back at his room and nodded. "Perfectly fine with me."

[sunsetofdoom]

AGAIN WITH THE FINGERSMITH AU. I missed last week on purpose, to give you all a break. Not because I forgot or anything.

Squinting, Blitzo caught sight of Stolas; he was nudging his way around a tall fern, brushing it with a hand like it was a beloved pet. A book was in his hand, and he knelt down, a little ways past the fountain, to place it reverently on a little desk; he opened it to a page, laid it flat, and drew out a line of those same silk-covered beads that Blitzo had found in his bedside table. He laid them down on top of the open book, marking the page and keeping it open. “One hundred and twenty?” A new voice asked, a hulking shadow on the far side of the room that Blitzo had taken for a closet door. “Twenty-three, is the act we were referencing, Father,” Stolas said. He drew one finger down the page- one black finger, one ungloved finger. Blitzo almost gasped; it was worse than seeing him naked. “Wherein-” He glanced up, saw Blitzo. All four of his eyes widened. Thinking he was about to be summoned, Blitzo scampered into the room. The opening hallway was just a long line of bookshelves, with the fake garden and the desks beyond; he waved nervously to Stolas, just to make sure.  “What is-” The King turned sharply as the tapping of Blitzo’s footsteps echoed through the library. “You!” He boomed. “The finger! The finger!” On a good day, Blitzo would have said he’d flip the guy the bird and leave; but he didn’t. His tail tucked between his legs and he froze. He had no idea what was going on. Stolas rose and crossed the false garden, the little library, with enormous steps on his big graceful legs. He was at Blitzo’s side in what felt like a heartbeat. “Here,” he said quietly. “Here. This. He only means-” And he gestured downwards. There was a pointing finger, cast in bronze, about three feet back. Stolas put his hands on Blitzo’s shoulders and gently ushered him backwards, until he was behind the pointer. “That finger marks the bounds of knowledge here!” The King- the king? probably? shouted, sitting reclined in his enormous chair. “No servants are permitted! Stolas, tell this little-” “I will, Father,” Stolas interrupted, and Blitzo realized with a rush of mortification that he was tucked behind the Prince like he was a shield. “My valet has come to fetch me. It’s one o’clock.” “Oh.” The King quieted immediately. “Is it?” “It is.” “Hm,” the enormous man hummed, and went right back to the book in front of him, his ink-spattered desk. “You have my permission to go.”

Tagging @nyxofdemons, @goddessofcoloredpencils, an @hazbin-helluva-itch; thanks to @man--eater for the tag!

[kim3jeon1min1park1jung1-bts]

Arjuni: The Kuru Princess

Arjuni's name resounded in every corner of Aryabhart, celebrated for her fierceness, bravery, kindness, and unmatched skills. She embodied Vibhatsu and Karuna, destruction intertwined with kindness. Feared yet beloved, she was the cherished princess, the very soul of the realm. To her family, she was the epitome of joy, adored by siblings and cousins alike. Legends whispered that her presence alone illuminated every space with laughter and vitality. Though quiet and serene, her mere existence filled hearts with pride and joy.

The Pandavas and Kauravas shared a profound sibling bond, despite their playful quarrels, especially between Bhima and Duryodhana. They revered, cherished, and respected each other deeply. It was a known truth throughout the realm that any harm directed towards the Pandavas would invoke the fierce protection of the Kauravas, and vice versa. Above all, to incur the wrath of the Kuru Princess, Arjuni, was to invite unimaginable consequences.

The Pandavas were not merely ordinary princes and princesses; they were the divine blessings bestowed through unwavering devotion and penance.

Though Arjuni harbored equal love for all her siblings and cousins, her affection, devotion, and reverence towards Karna, the eldest of the Pandavas, surpassed imagination. Karna, born to Kunti through the blessings of Suryadev during her maidenhood, held a unique place in her heart. Before her marriage to Pandu, the prince of Hastinapur, she disclosed the truth about her eldest son, fearing rejection from her beloved upon learning the truth. Yet, Pandu, a man of profound kindness and love, embraced Karna as his own, regarding him as his eldest with unwavering affection.

Karna, despite harboring love for all his siblings and cousins, adored and loved Arjuni a bit more than the others. He was almost sixteen when Arjuni was born, and from the moment he held the little princess in his arms, she had wrapped her eldest brother around her tiny fingers. Karna was Arjuni's rock and shoulder, and she was his in return. They could understand each other without needing words, representing a sibling bond that ran incredibly deep. Even when Karna was breaking down in grief after losing their father Pandu, little Arjuni provided him a shoulder to cry on, even though her own heart was breaking into pieces due to the loss of their father.

Arjuni revered Karna like a second father and followed him like a devoted cub. Being the eldest in the dynasty, he was the first to complete his education in warfare and politics. He introduced Arjuni to archery, a technique of warfare that never failed to amaze the little princess, whenever Karna was performing simple or intricate tricks for his young protégé. Karna was the one who taught Arjuni the basics of archery whenever he returned home from the gurukul.

While many credited Dronacharya for teaching Arjuni archery—an assertion that holds true, as Guru Dronacharya indeed imparted significant knowledge—it is undeniable that Karna was the one who planted the seed of passion for archery in the heart of the princess.

Not only Karna, but Arjuni was a favorite of all the Kuru men; she was the apple of their eyes. Pampered and doted upon, she sometimes felt embarrassed by their indulgence. Whenever her cousins and siblings went to town or on diplomatic missions, they would bring her sweets, jewelry, and trinkets. Every time her grandsire Bhishma saw her, he would take her on adventures and shower her with gifts. She was the only one who read stories, books, and poetry daily to her blind uncle, King Dhritarashtra, who in return would recount tales of her father Pandu's childhood. Her uncle Vidura would regale her with stories about myths and histories, a subject that deeply fascinated the young princess.

It wasn't just the Kuru men who adored her; the Kuru women loved and cherished her as well. Her mother, Kunti, and aunt Gandhari would always cook delicious meals for her whenever she desired. Dushala, her partner in crime, shared a deep bond of friendship with her. Though Dushala was a bit older, the two, being roughly the same age, were inseparable. They would often visit the town together, mingling with the common people of the realm, earning Arjuni the affectionate title of "People's Princess."

The only one who didn't like her, or any of the Pandavas in general, was Gandhar Raj Shakuni, the brother of Gandhari and the maternal uncle of the Kauravas. He was a vicious and hatred-filled man, who harbored deep animosity towards the Kuru dynasty. Shakuni always sought to manipulate the Kauravas against their cousins and create a rift between them. However, as we know, blood matters and blood runs deep; their familial ties of kinship ran so profoundly that even the gods above couldn't separate the two sets of cousins.

Shakuni especially blamed Arjuni because both sets of princes adored her the most, making her the link that united the two groups. One day, he went as far as to poison the young princess, but was captured in the process by none other than his own nephews, Duryodhana and Dushashana. They were livid when they discovered his intentions and literally dragged the crippled man to the court, throwing him in front of the others. They relayed his cruel and monstrous intentions to the king and the court, inciting great anger, especially among the princes. The princes had to be physically restrained by the guards on the order of Arjuni herself, preventing them from killing the evil man then and there.

Shakuni was found guilty by the sabha. He sought help from his sister, but she denied him, overwhelmed with shame that such an evil man was her brother. Shakuni was executed in the palace courtyard a day after his trial. His execution was attended by most citizens of the realm, who wanted to witness the death of the malevolent creature who had attempted to poison their beloved princess.

Before his execution, Shakuni was tortured by the Kuru princes, with Karna taking a particularly active role. Karna used various poisonous arrows to torment him and shatter his egoistic mind. Ultimately, Shakuni was beheaded by his nephew, thereby establishing the principle that any harm against their cherished princess would inevitably result in the perpetrator's death.

As years passed, the bond between the Kauravas and Pandavas not only remained steadfast but grew even deeper. The princes and princess were rigorously trained in politics and the arts of warfare. They were formidable with weapons in their hands, but none were as lethal and proficient as Arjuni. She mastered all forms of warfare at a young age, especially excelling in archery. Her bow and arrows became an extension of her body. She was called Savyasachi, the only one in the entire realm—and the world—who could shoot arrows with both hands.

Arjuni was feared for her intelligence and unparalleled skills. She and her eldest brother, Karna, were exceptional in archery, so brilliant that even the divine gods were awestruck by their prowess. They were absolute war machines; the sound of their bows struck terror into the hearts of their enemies. It was well known that to face either of them in battle was tantamount to a death sentence.

As Arjuni grew, she married Draupadi, the fireborn princess of Panchala, by winning her hand at her swayamvar. They became the first women ever to marry each other in the realm. Their union was opposed by some narrow-minded individuals, but neither Arjuni nor Draupadi, nor their families, cared about their opinions.

A year passed, and one day Maharishi Ved Vyasa advised the Kuru family to arrange another swayamvar for Arjuni, as her destiny ('bhagya') dictated that she was to marry two individuals. According to Vyasa, her union with these two would change the course of Aryavarta's history. This suggestion initially met with resistance from Arjuni, but after a deep conversation with her wife Draupadi, she was ultimately persuaded.

With Arjuni's and Draupadi's consent, preparations for the swayamvar began. However, her siblings—Karna, Yudhishthira, Bhima, Nakula, and Sahadeva—as well as her cousins, were reluctant to let her go. Arjuni managed to reassure them by saying they could threaten her future husband if needed and that she would spend most of her time with them, which alleviated their concerns.

The swayamvar was finally arranged, and princes and even princesses from far and wide came to take part in the challenge, hoping to win the heart of the Kuru Princess. The challenge was to string a bow that once belonged to Lord Vishnu himself. Each contestant tried but failed to even lift the bow. They were astonished that Arjuni could lift it effortlessly, as she had brought the bow to the tournament and placed it in the middle of the courtyard.

No one knew that Arjuni's ease in lifting the bow was because she was the incarnation of Goddess Lakshmi, Goddess Saraswati, and Goddess Parvati—the Tridevi. Previously, she was Naari, the consort of Narayana, and a partial incarnation of Lord Vishnu himself, in addition to being the daughter of Indra.

Suddenly, the arena fell silent as someone entered. Everyone turned to see who it was, and they were shocked. The person had a dark complexion, shoulder-length black hair, a brilliant smile, and a divine aura. The most enchanting feature was his multihued eyes, which seemed to contain entire galaxies. It was none other than Mathura's dear prince, Vasudev Krishna.

Krishna was, like Arjuni, both feared and beloved in the realm. He was the incarnation of Vishnu himself, and his tales were famous even in the remotest corners of the land.

Arjuni, upon seeing the dark-complexioned prince, felt an unknown magnetic force pulling her towards him. Her eyes met his, and suddenly a miracle occurred. She saw behind him a silvery outline of Lord Vishnu, surrounded by a radiant glow. At the same time, Krishna saw faint outlines of Devi Lakshmi, Saraswati, and Parvati behind Arjuni, enveloped in a soft pinkish light. Their eyes met again, and they nodded softly to each other. Krishna's dazzling smile made Arjuni blush, causing Draupadi to nudge her wife with a teasing grin.

Krishna was Draupadi's best friend, and she knew he was the best person to trust for Arjuni to marry. Although Draupadi had said she was okay with Arjuni marrying again, she harbored an irrational fear that the new spouse might try to disrupt their union. This fear had troubled her, but seeing Krishna there, she was able to let go of those worries.

Krishna stepped up to the bow with a calm and serene demeanor , he first did a pranam to the elders and everyone present there and then with effortless grace, he lifted the bow of Vishnu, stunning the crowd into silence. He strung it with ease, demonstrating his unparalleled strength and divine favor. The bow sang as he drew it back, a melody of power and grace that echoed through the courtyard.

Arjuni's heart swelled with admiration and joy. Krishna, with his divine aura and unmatched skill, had proven himself worthy. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, acknowledging the new victor, and even the kuru family celebrated in happiness as they knew Krishna would protect arjuni with his life, even though arjuni didn't need any protection but still.

Draupadi, watching from the arjuni's side, felt a wave of relief wash over her. The fears she had harbored about losing her bond with Arjuni faded away, replaced by a sense of certainty and trust. She gave a teasing nudge again to her wife who blushed but still had a beautiful and dazzling smile on her face.

Krishna approached Arjuni, his smile dazzling. Arjuni could see her mother, wife and sister giving her teasing smiles but she just mock glared at them making them giggle. Gandhari was also chuckling softly when kunti relayed arjuni's blushing to her. Arjuni slowly placed the garland around Krishna's neck while the crowd erupted into cheers. Krishna slowly took Arjuni's hand, and they stood together before the assembly, their divine connection clear for all to see.

"With the blessings of the gods," Krishna began, his voice resonating with warmth and promise"I vow to honor and cherish Arjuni, as we unite not just in marriage but in purpose and destiny." Arjuni gave him a wide dazzling smile in return of his words. The kuru family could feel that Arjuni and Krishna's marriage was not just a bond of love but a union that would shape the future of Aryavarta.

As the feasting began, Arjuni's cousins and siblings took Krishna aside to deliver a threatening speech that even made the great lord feel a tad bit nervous. Arjuni and Draupadi, who stood by his side, laughed heartily at the sight of the protective group. Karna was particularly detailed about the tortures he would enforce if Krishna ever dared to hurt his sister, while the rest agreed vehemently. Krishna reached forward and held Karna's palm, promising them all that he would sooner die than make Arjuni cry. This heartfelt promise relieved the group of cousins, and Arjuni blushed a deep shade of red, prompting Draupadi to offer her a teasing nudge.

After the brothers went away, Arjuni and Draupadi began teasing Krishna, noting how even the lord himself had been intimidated by the protective siblings. Krishna pouted sweetly, and Draupadi and Arjuni pinched his cheeks while laughing merrily.

That evening, wedding arrangements were made for Krishna and Arjuni. They performed the pheras together, and Krishna placed the churamani on Arjuni's head, making her smile softly and deepening their divine bond. Arjuni also renewed her vows with Draupadi, forging a soulmate bond among the three.

They knew that their journey together would be one of great adventures and profound connections, a path illuminated by divine guidance and unwavering love.

Even today, millennia later, the citizens of Aryavarta, modern-day India, when regaled with the tales of the illustrious Kuru Kingdom, invariably recall the profound familial bond shared between the two factions of cousins, the preeminent warrior of that era, Arjuni, and the profound love she shared with her consorts, Krishna and Draupadi. Together, the triumvirate of Krishnas indeed altered the trajectory of Aryavarta, transforming it into a realm where harmony prevailed, and each individual was accorded equitable respect.

@aru-loves-krishnaxarjuna this for you! I hope you'll like this! This is the first time I am writing a story like this and posting here on Tumblr lol, so I am a bit nervous haha

[flordemurta]

4 portuguese monarchs who might had same-sex relationships:

1) Pedro I of of Portugal, certainly, one if the most renowned portuguese monarchs, largely due to the saga of “love and passion” with Inês de Castro. Yet, it was common knowledge that she wasn't the Pedro’s only love: he harboured a passion for his squire, Afonso Moreira, a relationship that ended as disastrously as his other romantic (or not) entanglements. On one fateful occasion, Afonso was caught in bed with Catarina Tosse, wife of Lourenço Gonçalves, who was an esteemed magistrate.

Throughout his reign, Pedro earned the epithet “the Cruel” for his ruthless administration of justice, whereby transgressions of any magnitude often resulted in swift execution. Pedro’s decision to order Afonso’s castration as punishment for his adultery starkly manifested his merciless ethos. Nevertheless, according to Fernão Lopes, a chronicler of portuguese court at the time, in chapter VIII of “Crônica de el-rei D. Pedro I”, his harshness stemmed from a surge of jealousy on the king’s part upon discovering his beloved squire’s relationship with a woman.

2) Prince Henry, revered as “the Navigator”, occupies a central role particularly during the epoch of maritime exploration.

He was hailed as “chaste prince”, having never entered into wedlock, with no historical accounts suggesting (with certainty) any relationships with women. In the annals of 1444, Henry experienced the loss of a “dear friend” in Ceuta, a tragedy that pluged him into 3 months of profound mourning. Both his father, King John I, and his brother, King Edward, counselled him to “rein in his emotions, lest he indulge men beyond what virtue dictates.”

3) King Sebastian contracted gonorrhoea at the age 10/11, a malady documented in medical records at the time that rendered him sexually impotent. Some historians posit that this affliction may have dissuaded Sebastian from pursuing matrimonial unions or romantic relationships with women.

Even though, the “Crônicas de el-rei D. Sebastião” by Friar Bernardo da Cruz recounts an incident during a hunt in the Alentejo, where the entourage of nobles accompanying King Sebastian were stirred by a commotion. Investigating the disturbance, they stumbled upon the monarch locked in an embrance with a fugitive slave amidst the woodland.

4) King Afonso VI, sibling to Queen Catarina of Braganza, earned a reputation for rebeliouness and unruliness from a tender age, yet he harboured no ambitions for kingship.

His reign , marred by a series of missteps, was etched in history for its futile ventures. Despite grappling with severe health afflictions — such as partial paralysis stemming from hemiplegic fever, and scourge of bulimia — Afonso found solace in nocturnal escapades with his inner circle of friends. Among them was António Conti, an intalian peddler of opulent attire and accoutrements to Europe’s nobility. Conti’s sway in Afonso’s court burgeoned as he assumed the role of sartorial advisor and facilitator of introductions to foreign luminaries. Also, both grew increasingly closer to each other, with Afonso avoiding royal gatherings to spend time with Conti, mostly in his chambers.

In 1666, Afonso took the hand of Maria Francisca Isabel of Savoy, yet their union was fleeting. Maria, citing non-consummation owing to Afonso’s hemiplegia, sought an annulment. In letters to his sister, he bemoaned Maria’s coercive measures, by which she compelled him into relationships with 14 courtesants in a bid to unearth the root of their marital discord.

Seeking to shield Afonso’s sovereignty and secure the portuguese lineage, Luisa de Gusmão, his mother, sanctioned the arrest and subsequent exile of Conti to the distant shores of Brazil.

[une-sanz-pluis]

The Preface of Catherine de Valois's will

The last will of queen Katherine, made unto her sovereign lord, her son, upon her departing out of this world. Right high and mighty prince, and my full [re]doubted lord, and full entirely beloved son, in due humble wise, with full hearty natural blessing, I commend me to your highness. To the which please to be certified, that before the silent and fearful conclusion of this long, grievous malady, in the which I have been long, and yet am, troubled and vexed by the visitation of God (to whom be thanking and laud in all his gifts), I purpose, by the grace of God, and under your succour, protection, and comfort (in whom only, among all other earthly, stands all my trust), to ordain and dispose of my testament, both for my soul and my body.

And I trust fully, and am right sure that, among all creatures earthly, ye best may, and will best tender and favour my will, in ordaining for my soul and body, in seeing that my debts be paid and my servants guerdoned, and in tender and favourable fulfilling of mine intent. Wherefore, tenderly I beseech you, by the reverence of God, and upon my full, hearty blessing, that to my perpetual comfort and health of soul and body, of your abundant and special grace (in full remedy of all means that in any wise may anneantise [annihilate] or deface the effect of my last purpose and intent) grant, at my humble prayer and request, to be my executor; and to depute and assign such persons to be under you of your servants, or of mine, or of both, as it shall like you to choose them, which I remit fully to your disposition and election. Beseeching you, also, at the reverence of our Lord God and the full entire blessing of me your mother, that, this done, ye tenderly and benignly grant my supplication and request, contained particularly in the articles ensuing. And if tender audience and favourable assent shall be given by so benign and merciful a lord and son to such a mother, being in [at] so piteous point of so grievous a malady, I remit to your full, high, wise, and noble discretion, and to the conscience of every creature that knoweth the laws of God and of nature, that if the mother should have more favour than a strange person, I remit [refer or appeal] to the same.

Taken from: Agnes Strickland, Lives of the Queens of England, vol. 2 (G. Barrie & Son, 1902)

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Notes:

This is the only translation of Catherine's will I have found - Stickland states that she believes this is the first time it was published and all references to her will lead back here. Strickland is a notoriously unreliable historian but given the amount of times her translation is cited, it seems likely that it is reliable.

The Latin original is published in A Collection of All the Wills Now Known to be Extant of the Kings and Queens of England, Princes and Princesses of Wales, and every branch of the Blood Royal from the Reign of William the Conqueror, to that of Henry the Seventh Exclusive (1780).

Her will makes no mention of Owen or their Tudor children; Strickland, in full dramatic mode, claimsany reference to Catherine's second family may be found in the "in the dark hints to her son of acting 'according to his noble discretion and her intents'", though the direction for an executor to act according to their own discretion seems to have been fairly standard.

Strickland suggests that Catherine likely passed on her intentions for her Tudor children to Henry which Katherine J. Lewis expands to include Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester and Cardinal Henry Beaufort.

Lewis notes that "medieval wills often express only part of an individual's plans for their property and are heavily inflected by devotional concerns. Thus, the omission of Katherine's second family is not anomalous."

Catherine's will focuses on the payments of her debts, bequests for her servants and provisions for her soul.

Stickland included another line from the will, in which Catherine declares her soul “shall pass as naked, as desolate, and as willing to be scourged, as the poorest soul God ever formed.”

[goodqueenaly]

Hello, thank you for your previous answers. I've got another one for you. Are there any reasons (Doyalist or Watsonian) that Oberyn only has (or claims?) daughters?

Number one, this detail underlines some of Dorne's unique cultural qualities compared to the rest of (continental) Westeros. In Dorne, as Maester Yandel writes, "[t]hey [i.e. Dornish people] are not greatly concerned if a child is born in wedlock or out of it, especially if the child is born to a paramour". Likewise, Dorne is a land of (mostly) equal primogeniture, where Princess Nymeria is a revered foundational figure and (again, to quote Yandel) "[g]reat ladies and famous princesses abound, and are the subject of songs and tales as much as the great knights and princes". Oberyn's daughters were never considered the heirs to Sunspear, of course, but their existence as specifically female bastards who are nevertheless publicly acknowledged and raised by their highborn father reflects these aspects of their native culture. Indeed, when Obara's (nameless!) mother attempted to use Obara's gender in part to dissuade Oberyn from taking their daughter, Oberyn refuted the suggestion that as a mere girl she would not be wanted, declaring that "[g]irl or boy, we fight our battles ... but the gods let us choose our weapons" and confirming his paternal ownership of Obara through the latter's choice.

Number two, and related to that first point, it emphasizes Oberyn's own exotic strangeness, especially as he is first introduced through Tyrion's eyes while the latter was welcoming him to King's Landing. Oberyn's reputation did not just proceed him, it portrayed him as, to borrow a turn of phrase, mad, bad, and dangerous to know, someone who defied convention and thrived on blood and scandal. For a man who had supposedly murdered Lord Yronwood with a poisoned sword, "learn[ed] the poisoner’s trade and perhaps arts darker still, "soldiered in the Disputed Lands across the narrow sea", "bedded men and women both" and "crippled the heir to Highgarden”, fathering and raising exclusively female bastards might seem simply another aspect of Oberyn's unorthodox life and personality (again, especially in the view of non-Dornish Westerosi). Where for Tyrion, the note that Oberyn had fathered no sons is an intriguing detail amid the rest of that unusual life, and where elsewhere in Westeros such a fact might be taken as a slur on one's masculine virility (compare, say, the sniping comment made by Tytos Blackwood against Jonos Bracken, that Jaime would have to take one of Bracken's daughters as a hostage because "[f]or all his [i.e. Bracken's] rutting, he has not proved man enough to father sons"), for Oberyn there is no shame in the gender of his offspring.

Number three, it characterizes Oberyn as a man who genuinely cares about his female relations - an extremely relevant point when considering Oberyn's larger personal and political motivations. Oberyn makes no secret of the fact that he still vehemently blames the Lannisters for the murder of his beloved sister, and that he seeks vengeance for those murders. Oberyn is most certainly not the man to abandon the memory of the sister he loved, any more than he is to leave his daughters as unacknowledged bastards (which, again, as a highborn Westerosi male he might have been well within social expectations to do). These girls and women are as close and important to him as his brother or, more to the point, any son he might have had. (Indeed, Oberyn himself strengthened this familial connection by naming his eldest daughter by Ellaria "Elia", explicitly after the sister to whom he was so close.)

Number four, it provides a contrast between Arianne Martell and her cousins in their respective positions. The Sand Snakes may be bastard born, but they are publicly acknowledged as both the daughters and, for lack of a better term, spiritual successors of their father: Oberyn took them from (at least some of) their mothers, he raised them as his own, and he gave them the tools to live the sort of independent life he enjoyed. They were given paternal acknowledgment, trust, and the freedom to make their own decisions (especially in their choice of husband, at least theoretically since none have actually wed). Arianne, by contrast, might be the legitimately born daughter and heiress of the Prince of Dorne, but she believes (and not entirely unjustifiably) that Doran did not want her as his heir (and specifically that he was disappointed in her gender), does not trust her with any but the most superfluous tasks in that position, and would marry her against her will to the first available non-threatening aristocrat, the better to remove her from the succession. That the Sand Snakes are exclusively female assists in this direct comparison: Arianne can see young women of an age with herself and consider how she believes she has been treated by her Martell princely father compared to how they have been treated by a father of nearly equal dynastic standing.