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rabbit-reveries · 10 months

Text

—𝑺weet Sister

Synopsis: Aemond fears his youngest sister might fall prey to Aegon's infamous appetite. So, as a dutiful brother, he decides to claim her before he can.

Warnings: Smut, canon-typical incest, innocence kink, slight degradation, pet names, praise, way too many "good girl"s, p in v sex, unprotected sex.

Word count: 5124

He watches his sister with one violet eye, trying to hide in his face the anger bubbling deep in his chest at the sound of her girlish laughter. She doesn't even realize, does she? No, of course she doesn't. Aeressa, innocent as spring's first bloom, gazes at Aegon with wonder, unaware of the web of lies he weaves to ensnare her attention. Watching is so hard— No, he can't risk letting his guard down. A second is all his brother needs. To protect her honor, he must continue to keep watch. In amazement, the girl turns to him and takes his hands in hers.

"Isn't it incredible, Aemond?" squeals her. Incredible indeed. The youngest of the five siblings and Daeron's twin, Aeressa has no way of remembering the event Aegon retells, but the second-born prince surely has, and it was nothing like in the words of the heir. Doesn’t his tongue burn from all this nonsense? Ever since the princess’ first signs of coming of age, he’d been pulling all sorts of stunts to try and capture her gaze, no doubt in hopes of deceiving their poor sister into buying his fake affection and giving herself to him. Aemond watched the same happen with Helaena years before. The fact that he still cares for Aeressa soothes his heart, a clear giveaway that his older brother has yet to succeed in his devious plans. Sweet, sweet Aeressa… Too precious for her own good. He holds her hand over his. If he could, he’d keep her locked to himself, safe from the dangers of the world and its men.

She laughs again, the glorious sound filling the dining table. The prince watches Aeressa blush as Aegon leans in to whisper something in her ear, clenched jaw and hand protectively over hers. Her expression is soft and betrays no alarm, but she turns away to rest her head on Aemond’s shoulder. He relaxes the tiniest bit. So she hasn't fallen. There is still time. Aegon seems to notice it as well, all the hidden messages in such a small act, and it is clear on his face. He’s been growing impatient, and Aemond pretends not to notice. Pretends it doesn’t frighten him. He knows his brother’s only been playing nice because the subject of the matter is their sister, but that he has no qualms over taking what he deems his. The servant girls are all so very terrified of him.

In what can only be a desperate measure, Aegon takes the hand that used to sit under Aemond’s and kisses it, leaning once more to whisper in Aeressa’s ear. Aemond turns to Helaena, hoping now would be the time for a jealous fit, but it is only a feeble expectancy knowing her. Characteristically, she picks at her food, seemingly unaware of her brother-husband's antics. It is only by the slight furrow of her brow that he knows the princess isn’t deaf and blind to the scene displayed in front of her. Alicent is sitting at the head of the table and watches her children with a look of worry. If she didn’t have the same look every time she gazed at them, Aemond might have considered it some small victory. Gods, don’t they see this indecency? Is he alone on Earth? Is he the only one who might be able to protect this girl?

When supper is over and all are dismissed, he notices how Aegon corners their younger sister before retiring. Aegon has never been one for subtlety, thank the Seven Heavens. Aemond runs after her, afraid to leave her alone in the empty hallway leading to her chambers.

“Sister!” he calls, glad to see her grin when she turns and notices it is him.

“Brother.” she exhales, one hand over her heart. “You startled me.”

“Why? Did you think it was Aegon?”

She bites her lip, and it’s all the answer he gets.

“Has he been bothering you?”

Aeressa half laughs. “No, not BOTHERING… He’s just… a bit pushy.”

Aemond walks to her, stopping when he stands by her side. She tries to avert his gaze, but he picks her chin between his thumb and index to force the girl to look him in the eye. “Be truthful, Aeressa. What has he been pushing you to?”

“Gods, Aemond…” says her, eyes big as the moon set on his “He’s not a bad person, you know?” She places one of her dainty hands over his arm, perhaps trying to appeal to his emotions, but all Aemond can think is how close she is, how his breathing fans over her delicate face. She is so beautiful he almost forgives her for defending their brother. Such a precious gem.

“You don’t understand, Aeressa. You never do.” he shakes his head. “You only ever see the good in people.”

She frowns. “And you only ever see the bad.”

He wants to say more, scold her for her trustful nature, warn her of Aegon’s malice, but no words leave his mouth when the hand that wasn’t holding his arm reaches to cup his cheek. As if by instinct, he covers her hand with his. She is so close. So close. He can smell the oils she bathes in, and see the world of wonders living in the space between her parted lips. She is so close. He could close the distance, taste her if so he pleased.

Aemond forces himself awake from the fantasies, reminding himself of his place as her older brother.

“He whispered in your ears during supper. What did he say?”

His inquiry breaks the moment and Aeressa pulls away, repelled by the shock of reality. “I don’t know, he said so many things…” she says, almost musing, and begins to walk down the corridor again.

“Aeressa.” Aemond pulls her by the arm. “I’m not playing with you. What did Aegon say?”

She opens a grin, and at that moment he can’t read her in the least. His grip on her arm tightens. “What did Aegon say?” he repeats, more forcefully this time.

“He wants me to come to his chambers at night. He says we’ll play this fun game. Why is it so important?”

It is universally known how taken with his sister Aemond is. She’d been his little pet from a very young age, always following her older brother like a shadow, her twin by her side. When Daeron was sent away to fight, her attention had been solely Aemond’s, and he’d grown to cherish her company. Now, however, hearing those words coming from her mouth with a smile… He’d never been this compelled to hit her. Stupid girl. His grip on her arm tightens again, this time enough to earn a whimper from Aeressa.

“You’re hurting me, Aemond! What is going on?” she squeals, trying to free herself. She is so confused.

Of course, she is. She doesn’t understand the ways of men, she’s just a girl. She has no idea what kind of game Aegon plays - or plans on playing with her. Aemond lets go of her at last.

“You will not visit him tonight, do you hear me?”

“Why not? What if the game is fun?”

He grits his teeth, looking back at his sister’s bewildered expression. How can he explain the world to her? How can he keep her safe? He takes one hand to his hair, mind making work of his questions like a big machine with confusing and missing pieces. Aegon will not stop, even if Aemond himself keeps watch on her door. He’ll find a way, a secret passage, a time of the day when no one will be able to come aid. If there’s one thing he knows about his brother is how stubborn he can get when denied things he wants. And if there is another thing he knows about his brother is how great his appetite is, especially for maidens.

Aemond turns back to his sister, who watches him wearing the same confusion.

“So you want to play a game?”

“Embroidery gets very boring sometimes…” Aeressa tries to explain herself, gazing low on the ground, cradling the arm he squeezed.

Gods, she’s afraid of him… What now?

He sighs.

“Let us go to your chambers, I will play with you.”

She looks back up, childish delight mixed in with a slight distrust. “Will you?”

“Yes.”

She takes his hand and begins leading the way. The girl gets through the door and motions for him to follow, but he tells her to wait for a minute so he can tip the guard with enough gold to buy silence and one night in his sister’s bed.

It is the first time he’s entered Aeressa’s chambers in what seems like forever. It is covered in fresh flowers, the sweet scent filling the space between the four walls. The bed is grand as his own but wrapped in pink quilts and blankets. She sits on the edge of the mattress, swinging her legs a little.

“What game is it, brother?”

Aemond steps closer until he’s standing in front of her, looking down at her smiling face. If there is a time to stop, it is now. But if he stops… He knows Aegon won’t. Taking a deep breath, he cups her cheek much as she did to him in the hallway, face as stone. He loves her, he does, and because he loves her, there is no going back. This is his duty as a devoted brother. She can’t stay this naive forever.

“Have you ever played house?”

“Yes, of course! It was my favorite game with Daeron.” she says, innocent as ever.

“Do you want to play house with me?”

Aeressa laughs, that feminine, childish sound. “I think I’m a bit too old now… I haven’t played in ages.”

“Make an exception for today. I promise it’ll be fun.”

She looks away for a second but soon looks back at him with a smile. “If you promise.”

The prince takes another deep breath, trying to set it straight in his brain how this will go.

“This is the game: I am your husband, you are my wife, and this is our wedding night. Do you know what you are supposed to do?”

She hesitates for an instant. “Serve you…?”

“Yes. And how will you do that?”

“With a kiss?”

He feels himself smile at that, caressing the cheek he cups. “Very well. Have you ever been kissed before, Aeressa?”

“Only by Daeron when we played house last.”

Aemond has to hold back a flush of jealousy. All this time worrying about Aegon, it seems Daeron had gotten a headstart before leaving for the military. His caresses stop and he holds her face with both hands. He thinks of saying something, but now that he has Aeressa looking up at him with big lavender eyes, there are no words left. All he wants is to claim her rosy lips, and that’s what he does.

It is obvious she has little to no idea of what she's doing, which brings satisfaction to him. He tries to start chaste but soon finds himself tugging at her bottom lip, trying to get Aeressa to open her mouth for him to enter. When she finally gets the tip, his tongue slides in, and her hand flies to the arm that cradles her face, alarmed by the new sensation. It only amuses him more.

Startled by the intrusion, she opens her eyes wide and pulls back.

“Your tongue, it’s-”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Yes. That is what a real kiss is like. Do you not like it?"

A slight blood rush colors her cheeks. “It feels odd, but… It isn’t unpleasant.”

His thumb caresses her bottom lip, a starved look on his face. “Good. Try to match my pace, hm?”

Aeressa tries to pull back when he leans in, but she’s no match to the iron grip of the hands on her face. The prince kisses her again, this time stripping away all of the niceties he paid her at first, going straight for what he wants. His tongue laps at the inside of her mouth like fire licking at tapestries, spreading some weird warmth through her body. It might be the lack of oxygen, but she feels lightheaded, suddenly clinging to her brother like he, the arsonist, might save her from being burned alive.

She pulls away, struggling to breathe. The room is full of smoke. With her eyes now open, she can see the way Aemond gazes at her, and a tremble rushes through her body. His one eye is dark, veiled by a haze of something she doesn’t quite get. Desire? His hands pull her back for another kiss, searing, hot, all-consuming, and this time they don’t stay put on her face. Aeressa notices with confusion he is laying her down on the bed. Aemond can hardly hold back now, pulling her skirts up to grab at her legs.

“Aemond!” she yelps, sitting up. “You can’t lift a lady’s skirt!”

Yes, maybe he got a bit carried away… This is his sister, his beautiful, sweet, innocent sister. She must be so shaken by his actions. He stops and looks back at the youngest princess and her red cheeks. “Dear wife, it’s all part of the game.” he says, trying to sound confident and not as eager, his hands running up and down her thighs. “As your husband, I’m allowed to see you bare, understand?”

He descends from the bed to kneel on the ground, takes off her shoes and kisses her feet, then starts a trail of caresses that, when close to her thighs, are open-mouthed and fervent. His fingers grip her skin hard enough to leave marks - she doesn’t know it, but this is Aemond struggling to keep his composure. The room is filled with the smell of flowers and Aeressa’s labored breath. Without realizing it, her hands fly to his hair, and she’s pulling him back up for another kiss.

“Greedy, aren't you?” Aemond chuckles. He can’t help but give her what she wants, though, relishing in her grabby hands trying to pull him closer, impossibly closer. He kisses her ardently, kisses her, and kisses her, his own hands trying to pull her to him. How many nights did he spend awake, fisting his cock, fantasizing about her touch, her heaving breath, her tongue on his, on him… And now she is pulling at his hair, kissing him back as if her very life depends on it.

He pulls back, earning a frustrated sigh from Aeressa as she searches for his mouth again, but he holds her chin and makes her throw back her head. He begins another trail, this time from her lips to her cheek to her ear, where he nibbles at the lobe. “I’m going to make you mine tonight. Mine, no one else’s.” he growls, and, close as they are, he can feel the chill running through her back. “Am I clear?”

“Yes.” she breathes.

“Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He only wanted to hear her say his name, but the title might be even better. Grinning, he begins following south, down to her neck. “Little princess Aeressa seems to be quite sensitive...”, he thinks, drinking in the heavy breaths she takes when he kisses her neck. Against his better judgment, Aemond sucks in a hickey or two and leaves a bite that makes him want to leave a hundred, hearing the whimper she lets out at the first. He is hypnotized by how her chest rises with each breath, barely contained by the bodice of her dress.

With greedy hands, he tugs at the strings that hold her gown together. Impatient to have his attention solely on her again, Aeressa helps, and soon the fabric is loose around her. “Are you… Are you sure this is right?” asks her, holding the front of her bodice to not let her breasts spill. She wanted him back on her, but now that it is time to be seen naked, she is too timid to let go of the gown.

“Yes, this is right. I have never been so sure.” is what he thinks, wanting nothing more than to free her of this godforsaken dress and feel her skin on his. As to not startle her, though, he forces himself to hide the feverishness and smile calmly. “Do you feel wrong, my sweet?”

“...No.”

“Then how could it be anything but right?”

Hesitantly, she lets go of the bodice, letting it fall on her lap, her round breasts now on display for only him to gaze at. Aemond thinks they’re just the perfect size, custom-made to fit inside the palm of his calloused hands. “Good girl.” he praises and kisses her again. Aeressa arches her back in his embrace, entranced by his words, drinking them in. “Good girl.” he repeats. His hands travel along her torso, feeling her up, squeezing, pinching, and scratching. He lays her down again and tentatively pushes up the fabric of her dress, half expecting his sister to stop him again, but this time all she does is lace her arms through his neck to keep him closer, pressing her chest to his.

With her beneath him, whimpering so softly, Aemond feels like he might be in one of the Seven Heavens, or perhaps all seven at once. His hand snakes down between her thighs, and he can’t stop a groan from escaping feeling how slick she is. He wants nothing but to fuck her hard, have her scream his name so loud Aegon won’t be able to miss it… But she is his sister, not some common whore, and he owes her love and respect. This is all for her, after all. His finger circles the entrance of her cunt, the heel of his palm pressing down on her clit

The feeling bubbling down at the pit of Aeressa’s stomach is so foreign, strong enough to make her tremble inside her prince’s embrace. Her mouth is on his like he is the air she breathes, only pulling away at the feeling of intrusion when he inserts a finger inside her.

“Are you enjoying this?” he asks, hovering above her, his long white hair falling over her face. His finger pumps in and out of her with ease. As if to punctuate his question, he rubs the heel of his hand on her pearl, earning a sharp mewl from the girl.

She grabs at his shoulders, trying to still herself, eyes shut tight as if not being able to see her brother’s expression will somehow stop him from staring this intently at her. At this point, the princess is a blushing mess, her chest and neck covered in hickeys and bites, hair falling disheveled around her like a fallen angel’s halo.

“Well?” he presses on, now making hither motions that squeeze more sounds out of her. “I’ll stop if you can’t answer.”

Aeressa is often told she is too kind for her own good, always ready to see the good over the bad. At this moment, however, she is sure her brother must be some kind of demon, the only possible explanation for how he toys with her body and mind, so obviously enjoying the shame in her features. “...Yes”

He grins, wicked, and leans in to kiss her. Aemond swallows the cry she lets out when he surprises her with a second finger. “Good girl. Thank you for your honesty.” says the man, in a tone that asks “wasn't so hard, was it?”. Her body is on fire and he’s watching like it is something amazing. Because it is; because he’s completely entranced.

Her heavy breathing and moans fill the room, mixed with one or two sloppy sounds coming from her wet cunt. The symphony is shameful and burns in her ears. Aemond wishes he had the kind of self-control to let her come undone on his fingers, maybe on his mouth later on, but, suckling on her right breast as he masturbates her, he fears this might be too much for him to take. He is so hard it hurts, his trousers now the cruelest prison.

His sister whimpers loudly, unsatisfied, and frustrated when he pulls his fingers out of her. In the candlelight, his hand glistens with her wet. “What? Why did you stop?” Aeressa whines, lying under him with uneven breathing. The one-eyed prince licks one long stripe on his hand, too taken with the flavor to dignify her question with an answer. She tastes sinful, devilish, the forbidden fruit untouched.

“Open wide.”

“What?” she asks. He can’t possibly mean…

“Do as I say.”

Obedient as she’d always been, she parts her lips and allows her brother to stuff his fingers on her mouth. She can feel herself on his digits, the humiliation bringing the heat in the pit of her stomach to bubble like a witch’s brew.

“Good girl. Such a good girl…” Aemond smirks and kisses her once more, the taste dancing on both their tongues. Aeressa figures he would go back to his ministrations and spreads her legs just a bit wider, waiting for his hand to dip in between them again, but it never does. He pulls back and leaves the bed, standing in front of her confused form now. Why did he stop? She didn’t want him to stop.

Her eyes follow his every move as he begins undressing, making quick work of his clothes. He has a lean, athletic body with marked V bones on his hips, which lead the girl’s gaze to the cock that is proudly erect in front of her. She hadn’t seen one since she was a kid and the servants bathed her with Daeron. His certainly didn’t look like that.

“You’re staring, wife.” chuckles Aemond, subtly reminding her of the game they played. The hand that played with her moved to stroke his manhood, jerking it a few times if only to put on a good show for her.

“I…” Aeressa starts but is unable to finish.

He is amused by her innocent yet curious demeanor. Flawless… Legs spread for him, dress pooled at her waist, breasts out just for him to ogle at. She half sits up, supported by her elbows on the bed, waiting with the most perfect expression for him to do with her as he pleases.

“Now, this might hurt a bit, but I need you to be brave. I promise it'll feel good once the pain dulls.” says Aemond, climbing on top of her again. She lets him, even if in her face she wears some shade of apprehension at the mention of pain.

Kissing her mouth as a distraction tactic, he begins aligning himself with her center and pushes in slowly. It is too late now. Too late. Tears sting on the corners of Aeressa's eyes, which she closes tightly shut, her face contorts itself into a pained grimace, and he can hear a whimper from her, but it's well past the point of stopping. He is inside her, trying to force himself further, squeezed by her insides. She is tight and hot and it might just be too much. He presses his forehead against hers, the tips of their noses touching, their breaths mixing as the two try to keep their composure.

Beneath him, Aemond can tell his sister is crying. Is he being too rough? He could swear… He is trying so hard to be good for her, to go slow.

“Brother?” she asks, grabbing at his arm like he might keep her afloat.

“What is it, my love?”

“When will it start to feel good?”

The prince can't help but smile at her words. She is trying to be brave for him, just like he's trying to be good for her. So adorable it hurts. With tenderness, he kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her cheeks, and, finally, her mouth. “Soon, my sweet. Very soon.” She looks up at him through wet eyelashes like she so badly wants to believe his words. “You are doing so well, baby. You're such a good girl for me.”

He moves inside her, slow like he believes that maybe if he goes slow enough, she might not feel the pain of the stretch or the breaking of her hymen. A cry from the girl proves his hopes wrong, and he attempts at remedying it by cooing sweetly at her.

“No, don't cry… You're a big girl, aren't you? You've been doing so good!” says the man, cupping her cheek and caressing her face.

“It hurts, brother!”

“I know, I know…” He kisses her teary eyes, salt on his lips. “But you can take it. I know you can. Look—” he nods towards where they are joined, her pussy having swallowed all of him. “You did it. You're such a good girl, such a sweet baby… Such a perfect cocksleeve.”

She looks up at him with violet orbs big as the moon. She didn't think she could do it, but she did it! Isn't it amazing? “And you're proud of me, sir?”

He smiles. “So proud.”

Aeressa laces one arm through his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. She kisses him, sweetly, so adoringly, and only pulls back to wince when he starts moving again.

He stops immediately and asks, worried as a dutiful brother “Do you need more time to adjust? Is this okay, sister?”

She bites her lower lip so strongly she might draw blood, but nods. “Yes… Yes, it's alright. Please, move.”

So he does. Slow, excruciatingly slow. It takes all of his self-control to keep himself from ramming into her. Everything about how she feels around him is perfect, and he just wants to make the most of the sensation. But he loves her, he has to remember that - that she is to be loved, not fucked. Slowly, very slowly, he goes in and out of her, one eye studying her every squirm, examining the signs her body gives. Slowly, her whimpers give way to soft moans, and, with patience and shows of affection, Aemond is capable of extracting from the young princess encouragement to move faster. So he does.

Aeressa is squirming under him, large breasts bouncing softly with the movement. She pinches her nipples, runs her nails through her white skin, and does as he had done before, chasing after the heat the actions spark in her belly. It feels so different, to be full, but the more the pain subdues, the more she enjoys it, and begins to dread the moment her brother bottoms out of her, leaving her empty. Thankfully, it's only for a short moment before he fills her again. "Faster, please!" asks her, guided by an instinct that says a quicker pace would be more pleasant.

Aemond is enthralled by the vision before him, one he only dared dream of. She is angelical, perfect, pierced by him, belonging only to one man now and forever. He smirks and leans forward to suck in a hickey on the pale pulse point of her neck, hips snapping against hers. Every bruise he leaves on her body is a work of art and a show of passion, a sign of ownership he will not let Aegon question. King-to-be or not, he lost this match, and with this victory under his belt, the younger prince finds that he does not mind losing the war all that much. He kisses his sister’s mouth with a pure mix of love and lust. “It feels so good! I might go insane!” the girl whimpers against his lips, prompting his hips to go harder.

“You’re doing amazing, Aeressa.” he smiles at her, sole eye taking in the beauty of her reactions, the perfect ‘O’ of her lips, the hitch of her breath. Aemond finds that she likes it fast, but it is when he goes hard that she gasps and cries out his name. “Such a perfect little bitch.” He cups her cheek with one hand, the other next to her head, holding his weight on top of her. He keeps praising her, locking onto her amethyst eyes, knowing it to be the way to her heart. “Such a good girl for me. The best hole in the Realm.”

She can feel it, how every word has her clenching around him, how every thrust gets the band in her belly to stretch further, closer to snapping. The princess is completely lost in the feeling, cockdrunk. Her brother searches for her, but there are no thoughts behind her pupils, only a thirst for release. Aeressa is vocal in bed, loud, and forgotten of consequences. She cries multiple “sir!”s and “brother!”s, gripping hard at her partner’s forearms. He can only chuckle at how gone she is, and give her his thumb to suck on.

Without waiting for more encouragement, Aemond sets a pace that is passionate and quick, almost wild, and has his sister screaming to the Seven Winds. He can’t deny he’s getting close. Gods, he’s getting close. Decided to extract one orgasm from the princess before giving in to his own, he retracts the hand that cupped her face to have it play with her clit, the spit-covered thumb slick as it circles her button. It earns a loud moan from the girl under him.

“Good girl, such a good girl!” he groans, hips snapping.

Her walls clench around his cock. He can’t help but imagine her womb thirsty, ready to receive all of him.

“Aemond, I-” the princess gasps.

“It’s alright, let it go. Let it go for me.” His thumb speeds up on her clit. She flutters, legs shaking, chest heaving, and the coil deep in her stomach snaps in fevering euphoria. Aeressa reaches up to press her brother’s lips to hers, the kiss marked by gasps and delirious moaning.

The prince bottoms in and out her with passion, now chasing only his high, which approaches at rapid speed. With a grunt, he cums inside his little sister, whole body clenching. He fucks her shallowly through his orgasm, pushing his seed deeper.

Both out of breath and absolutely spent, the siblings eye each other. Aemond’s senses return, making him wonder “what the actual fuck.” as he pushes out of her and lays down by her side. Before he can linger on the guilt of ruining the princess, she curls up on his chest, sweat sticking their bodies together. He wraps an arm around her and tucks his chin on the top of her head.

“Was that good, husband?”

He can’t lie to her, or to himself. “That was fucking amazing.”

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

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HC of Astarion x fem Elf Tav who’s a Druid, more specifically of the Circle of The Spores subclass. She wears skirts and dresses of dark teals and blacks with gold embroidery and legs round gold glasses, always travels with herbs and roots in her pockets and pouches, and is never afraid to raise an army of the fungal infested undead for the hell of it. Basically she’s the healer who puts on a neutral front but is begging for the chance to rightfully unleash chaos and destruction

Hi! Oh, this is a nice design of a character! And I am sucker for elf!Tav because they can live for many centuries. And Spore Circle is absolutely badass. It turned out to be weird, creepy and bittersweet and I hope you like it! I also tag @tolkien-fantasy since they love Spore Druids.

Astarion x Spore Circle Druid!Tav

There is a thing about Spore Druids.

Unlike your colleagues, you don't particularly hate the undead.

If anything, your magic is about death, too.

Mold and fungi transform lifeless material into something new and weird.

Death isn't the end, it's just a new stage.

The problem with the undead is that they often wish things would stay the same and never change.

Which is unnatural.

Life is about growth and death is about transformation.

You encourage Astarion to heal and grow.

The worst thing about his past was stability and the belief nothing was going to change.

But somehow he preserved his personality and now he slowly demonstrates his ability to "live" in his undeath.

Though, you scare him a bit.

You can resurrect the dead with spores, turning them into zombies, alive and dead, hungry and terrifying.

You infect the corpses and transform them into your loyal servants.

And you can use the same spores to make your enemies blind, deaf, or paralyzed.

Astarion calls you a walking hotbed of plague.

Though, of course, he is in awe - mostly because everything you do is between life and death, which is the stage he himself is stuck in.

But your magic is beautiful.

Mushrooms growing on dead bodies.

Mold desecrating the food.

Fungi bringing life to the most desolate places.

Post-game, Astarion doubts whether to go with you, but you assure him that the Spore Circle will accept him due to his ability to change.

You study the fungi to find answers to your questions and his problems.

The spores can make him more like a living person.

They can protect him from the sun, and they can let him eat normal food.

The prospect scares Astarion - he's seen the infected corpses. It's creepy.

And what if this magic fungi takes over his mind?

You don't insist. It's his choice, after all.

And you are an elf yourself, you have plenty of time.

But the life in the shadows and hunger take a toll on Astarion.

He doesn't want to be an undead. He wants to be alive.

And if his vampirism can't be cured, why not let nature change him?

At least, if you promise his personality won't be affected.

It won't, you are sure of that.

Astarion lets you infect him with the spores.

This transformation is nothing like becoming a vampire.

It's soft, gentle, warm.

Astarion feels like dreaming, sleeping in a warm bed.

The only thing he acknowledges is your presence. You check on him all the time sometimes meditating close to his "fungi grave".

It take almost a year for spores to finish their job, reconstructing his dead flesh.

A lonely year of being alone in your bed.

When Astarion wakes up, he doesn't feel the hunger anymore.

The sun doesn't burn him and he stays in the sunlight for hours before you come to take him home.

The symbiotic fungi has restored his organs to the point where they functioned as they are supposed to.

Astarion is scared to see himself in the mirror - but when he does he sees himself.

Though, there are some changes.

There are golden spots of spores in is eyes and barely visible cobwebs on his legs and arms.

And he is warm. He is so warm.

With his newfound "life", Astarion gets some new abilities, similar to the ones you have.

He can cast spores and rise up the dead, infecting them.

He can hear the fungi songs, connecting his mind with this ancient entity.

And he can feel you.

You know each other thoughts, each other intentions, and presence.

He always knows where you are. He feels your emotions, your sorrows and happiness and you feel him the same way.

You are more than thiramins, more than lovers.

But the best gift the spores gave to Astarion is mortality.

One day, the fungi will slowly take over his body and mind, transforming the flesh once again, bringing him mor, the final death.

And if you are still alive by this moment, you will let spores take over you so you can be together in this next stage of life and death.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce

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duothelingo · 2 months

Note

THE OPENING (al-Fatihah) 1. In the name of Allah, the Gracious, the Merciful. 2. Praise be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds. 3. The Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. 4. Master of the Day of Judgment. 5. It is You we worship, and upon You we call for help. 6. Guide us to the straight path. 7. The path of those You have blessed, not of those against whom there is anger, nor of those who are misguided. 2. THE HEIFER (al-Baqarah) In the name of Allah, the Gracious, the Merciful 1. Alif, Lam, Meem. 2. This is the Book in which there is no doubt, a guide for the righteous. 3. Those who believe in the unseen, and perform the prayers, and give from what We have provided for them. 4. And those who believe in what was revealed to you, and in what was revealed before you, and are certain of the Hereafter. 5. These are upon guidance from their Lord. These are the successful. 6. As for those who disbelieve—it is the same for them, whether you have warned them, or have not warned them—they do not believe. 7. Allah has set a seal on their hearts and on their hearing, and over their vision is a veil. They will have a severe torment. 8. Among the people are those who say, “We believe in Allah and in the Last Day,” but they are not believers. 9. They seek to deceive Allah and those who believe, but they deceive none but themselves, though they are not aware. 10. In their hearts is sickness, and Allah has increased their sickness. They will have a painful punishment because of their denial. 11. And when it is said to them, “Do not make trouble on earth,” they say, “We are only reformers.” 12. In fact, they are the troublemakers, but they are not aware. 13. And when it is said to them, “Believe as the people have believed,” they say, “Shall we believe as the fools have believed?” In fact, it is they who are the fools, but they do not know. 14. And when they come across those who believe, they say, “We believe”; but when they are alone with their devils, they say, “We are with you; we were only ridiculing.” 15. It is Allah who ridicules them, and leaves them bewildered in their transgression. 16. Those are they who have bartered error for guidance; but their trade does not profit them, and they are not guided. 17. Their likeness is that of a person who kindled a fire; when it illuminated all around him, Allah took away their light, and left them in darkness, unable to see. 18. Deaf, dumb, blind. They will not return. 19. Or like a cloudburst from the sky, in which is darkness, and thunder, and lightning. They press their fingers into their ears from the thunderbolts, in fear of death. But Allah surrounds the disbelievers. 20. The lightning almost snatches their sight away. Whenever it illuminates for them, they walk in it; but when it grows dark over them, they stand still. Had Allah willed, He could have taken away their hearing and their sight. Allah is capable of everything. 21. O people! Worship your Lord who created you and those before you, that you may attain piety. 1 2. THE HEIFER (al-Baqarah) 22. He who made the earth a habitat for you, and the sky a structure, and sends water down from the sky, and brings out fruits thereby, as a sustenance for you. Therefore, do not assign rivals to Allah while you know. 23. And if you are in doubt about what We have revealed to Our servant, then produce a chapter like these, and call your witnesses apart from Allah, if you are truthful. 24. But if you do not—and you will not—then beware the Fire whose fuel is people and stones, prepared for the disbelievers. 25. And give good news to those who believe and do righteous deeds; that they will have gardens beneath which rivers flow. Whenever they are provided with fruit therefrom as sustenance, they will say, “This is what we were provided with before,” and they will be given the like of it. And they will have pure spouses therein, and they will abide therein forever. 26. Allah does not shy away from making an example of a gnat, or something above it. As for those who believe, they know that it is the Truth from their Lord. But as for those who disbeliev

Did you just send me the fucking Quran

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glimmeringtwilight · 2 years

Text

Daffodils | Yandere Diluc x Reader

You can thank @j0succ for this one honestly bc they've put me in a very Diluc mood lately (A VERY GOOD THING) (THE OPPOSITE OF A PROBLEM) ...anyway. this will be a two-parter

CW: reader death(Diluc doesn't do it though dw), angst, implied kidnapping, referenced captivity, yandere themes, graverobbing

Word Count: 1.2k

Adelinde hasn’t seen the young master like this in a long time.

After the death of his father, Diluc became a completely different person. Mind you, she would never go so far as to say he became a worse person, no. Just… different. The fire in him dimmed. It was like watching the light from the sun slowly die.

She still worries about him, from time to time, when she catches him limping his way up the steps to the estate, clutching a wounded side with a mask hanging haphazardly from one ear.

She knows he works himself to this point so that he doesn’t lose anyone else close to him, but there’s still the quiet fear that one night he won’t return, and the manor will bear the echoes of the ghost of him.

Some of that worry dissipated with you. The warmth in him had returned– not that he had ever grown cold since his father’s death, but with you, it was like seeing the young Diluc Ragnvindr again: whole and bright and warm.

It’s why she overlooked some of the… Peculiarities of your relationship with the master. The locked doors, the muffled sobs, the sadness in your eyes whenever you stared out the windows of the estate…

She knew better than to intervene– all the servants did. They may have quietly pitied you, and done their best to make your stay feel less like the imprisonment it felt to you, but they ultimately cared more for their master than they did you.

And Diluc seemed well and truly happy, for the first time in years, with you here. Adelinde wasn’t going to change that. Many servants were relieved to see the man they once knew in the halls once again, instead of the shadow of his guilt and regrets.

For your part, you seemed to be warming up to Diluc after a few months into your stay at the winery. You still looked out longingly into the vineyard, towards the yawning horizon, but you didn’t ignore Diluc entirely anymore– didn’t give him the same icy glares, didn’t flinch away from his touch, didn’t refuse the meals he’d bring you on cool evenings when you were too despondent to eat in the dining hall.

Adelinde felt like she could sleep at night, at last. It was easier to swallow back the guilt that came with playing blind and deaf, when you were coming to terms with it. She could feel the relief in the other maids and servants that Diluc allowed to tend to you, see the cloying shadow of remorse slipping from their postures as they guided you through the days. She could convince herself this was for the best– that you would learn to love Diluc in time, that you would be happy here.

But it didn’t last.

The death of his father was hard on him, the sun setting on a never ending day, but yours? Your death was the sun shattering against the horizon. Adelinde can’t wipe the image of him from her mind: returning with you in his arms that night, soaked from the rain, and the undiluted pain in his eyes when he looked at her.

She doesn’t know what became of the servant that had slipped you the key. She never asked.

In the days leading up to the funeral, Diluc hadn’t left his office once. When you were finally buried in the garden, Adelinde would often find him in the late hours of the night sitting by the budding daffodils they’d replanted by your grave.

Late nights spent fighting the Abyss stretched on into early mornings, with the haggard Ragnvindr returning bloodied and limping after each excursion, slipping into his office despite Adelinde’s concerns.

None of the servants are allowed into your chambers anymore.

At first, she’d assumed Diluc had intended to lock the room and leave the memory of your stay here untouched, gathering dust, but she’s seen the door cracked on a few occasions– caught glimpses of her employer carefully tidying up the space, or perched at the edge of the bed overlooking the garden where the lisianthus grows.

They say grief comes in waves, but for Diluc, it was an engulfing ocean. Sorrow settled over the estate like a heavy fog– servants skirted past the ghost of their master in the halls, hearths did little to warm the quiet mourning that sank into the floorboards, and the yawning emptiness left in your wake tore into the inconsolable wine tycoon like an unfettered rot.

The spring months felt like winter at the winery, dragging on into dreary summer storms. It was in one such storm that Adelinde returned from running errands to see Diluc waiting for her outside the estate, soaked through with a crazed look in his eyes.

“Master Diluc–”

“Where are they?” He cuts in, swatting away the umbrella she offers him. Rain pours down his face, crimson hair sticks to his forehead, and dark circles line his eyes.

She can see the mud caked in his clothing now, the shovel he’s still clinging to in one hand in a white-knuckled grip. Her eyes drift to the garden, to the uprooted daffodils and lisianthus the gardeners had carefully tended.

“Pardon?”

Diluc grabs her by the wrist, lessening the harshness of his grip when she winces– the wild look fading into something apologetic for the barest of moments– and leads her to the garden where you once lay.

The coffin they’d buried you in is empty, its fine satin interior soiled with old dirt and fresh mud.

The sound of rain is deafening in her ears. Diluc looks to her expectantly, hopefully, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

His face darkens. Adelinde watches him disappear into the manor once more, then turns back to gather her things and follows. She doesn’t see him for the rest of the day.

That night, however, as Adelinde finishes the last of her duties, she stops in the hall to see her employer stepping out of his chambers, harsh shadows cast over the tired lines of his face by the sparse candlelight.

“Master Diluc.”

“Adelinde.”

There’s a bag slung over his shoulder, a familiar heavy coat draped over him. Ah. She thinks she understands. “Going on a trip?”

“Yes. I’ll need you to take care of the estate in my absence.” He doesn’t look at her as he says this, but Adelinde can hear the tremble of something other than grief in his voice for the first time in months.

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Be sure to inform the others of my absence.”

“What should I tell them?” She asks, just as he steps past her, the flame of her candle turning wild before snuffing out. In the dim moonlight, her employer’s eyes look almost haunting when he turns back to look at her.

“Business trip.”

“You might want to bring a warmer coat,” She tells him.

“I’ll be fine.” He replies, and Adelinde sighs.

Diluc heads down the stairs and steps outside, shutting the door behind him. Adelinde lingers in the hall, turning her gaze to your room, the door to it left wide open for the first time in months. The hallway is warm despite the chill clinging to the rest of the estate. ...Well. It’s good to see the young master pulled from his misery, if even for this.

As Adelinde finishes locking up for the night, she wonders what the fatui could ever want with your corpse.

#yandere #diluc #diluc/reader #diluc x reader #yandere diluc/reader #yandere diluc #yandere diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr/reader #genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #my writing #dead dove do not eat #diluc genshin impact #WOO obligatory tags out of the way time to say stupid shit now #anyway. the daffodils are symbolic bc blah blah they're of the narcissus genus of plant and they symbolize selfishness #so like. diluc is selfish blah blah I'm Very Deep and Very Woke and Cool #dottore will be in p2 which I'll either start on tomorrow once I'm done whoring over his shoes HFHFJJF or maybe tonight idk #depends on how quickly I Can Get A Grip #also lisianthus just symbolizes goodbyes #nothing really deep there.#i had fun writing this though heheheh. i'll see if i can edit the albedo piece to be less lackluster #just needed to get this outta my system first......#also the ending is kinda lame dw about it *holds up the dottore boot pic* look at this instead pspsps pspspspsp pspsps #cw: reader death #forgot to tag that omg

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salem-witch-history · 4 months

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Specters of What's to Come: The Goodwin Witchcraft Case

Witchcraft accusations were not incredibly rare in 17th century New England, but prosecution was difficult.

By law, two credible witnesses had to testify seeing witchcraft take place for an accusation to be deemed credible. This was difficult to provide, unless an accused witch confessed to the crime. Testimony of others could include witnessing of verbal curses and the presence of "poppets," what we now call voodoo dolls. Spectral evidence, the testimony that an afflicted person saw the invisible shape of a witch, was not supposed to be considered credible. Even in a society that believed wholeheartedly in witches, Puritans knew that people could lie, and many believed that Satan had the ability to take on the form of an innocent person to bring about their downfall. In some instances, accusers and even confessed witches were charged with perjury rather than witchcraft if the evidence was lacking.

There were times, however, when accused witches did meet the death penalty. The last and most newsworthy incident prior to Salem took place in Boston in 1688.

The prosperous Goodwin family had employed an Irish indentured servant named Mary Glover as a washerwoman. Mary, being Catholic and poor, was greatly distrusted, and the Goodwin's 13 year old daughter Martha accused her of stealing clothing. Distraught, Mary told her elderly mother, Ann, of this accusation, and the older woman flew into a rage. After a screaming match in which Ann "bestow'd very bad language" at Martha, the teenager, along with three of her younger siblings, began to suffer from fits deemed to be supernatural in nature.

These fits, described in the book Memorable Providences by Cotton Mather, were identical to what would occur in Salem: the children were struck deaf, blind, and mute, contorted themselves into painful positions, and cried out pitifully or made animal sounds. The extent of the fits were deemed to be beyond what would be expected of epilepsy or other known medical conditions, and too severe to be faked. At times, Mather stated, the children's jaws would dislocate, their tongues drawn out to "prodigious length," and their joints locked with their bodies in an arch.

When Glover was brought in on witchcraft charges, it was unclear whether or not she was competent to stand trial. Glover seemed to understand some English but could not speak it; when it became known that her incomprehensible speech was not Satanic language, but Irish, multiple examiners deemed her technically sane, though she still seemed confused by the proceedings. Robert Calef, who wrote the first exposé on the witch trials, More Wonders of the Invisible World, stated that "Her behavior at her trial was like that of one distracted. They did her cruel." She testified entirely through interpreters.

During the proceedings, the interpreters struggled to contextualize Glover's testimony, seemingly due to being unfamiliar with Catholic worship. She was questioned about small figures found in her home and admitted to praying to them as "spirits," which the interpreters admitted could also have meant saints. The children reacted negatively when Glover handled her homemade statues, signs of spectral interference. She was also instructed to recite the Lord's Prayer; this was a standard test for witchcraft, as Puritans believed that Satan's power prevented witches from praying. Glover was able to recite in Irish and Latin, but not English, and this was taken as further evidence of guilt.

Ann Glover was hanged on November 16th, 1688. Mather related that, visiting her in jail, she had claimed that her death would not relieve the children's suffering, which did come to pass; Martha's bewitchment continued for some time. Although Glover supposedly claimed that someone else was bewitching the children, no other witches were prosecuted, and over time the hysteria faded.

Mather's first-hand account of the incident was published less than a year later, in 1689. It is probable that some residents of Salem owned the book, at at least had heard of the crisis.

#history #salem witch trials

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catcas22 · 4 months

Text

My first attempt at dnd homebrew. Feel free to steal!

Oath of the Penitent

The Oath of the Penitent is an oath not for a faithful servant of the light, but for one returning to the light. These tarnished paladins seek absolution, to right some past wrong or to earn forgiveness for an unforgotten sin. The penitent fights without a thought for his own life, for the path to redemption is often painted in blood.

While one sworn to the Oath of the Penitent clings to the hope of redemption, she acknowledges that apologies are but empty words. The penitent proves his resolve through deeds, atoning for past wrongs when atonement can be made, and suffering punishment with stoic resolve when no restitution can suffice.

It may be that one who has walked in darkness will see the light all the more clearly.

Tenants of the Penitent

The tenants of the penitent are unyielding, for these paladins understand the price of moral weakness. They judge themselves more harshly than any priest or king.

Atonement. If one hopes for redemption, the same chance must be extended to one’s enemies. While no quarter is owed to an unrepentant evildoer, the penitent must extend mercy to those willing to walk the long road of atonement.

Restitution. Remorse does not blot out action. When encountering those harmed by his past misdeeds, the penitent must make every effort to make restitution for his crimes.

Penance. The life of the penitent is no longer her own -- it is a second chance, offered only so that she might set right her mistakes. The penitent does not shy away from hardship and danger. If the cause is just, the penitent must fight on whatever the cost.

Piety. The penitent understands the wages of sin better than most. While the penitent might be forced at times to choose the lesser of two evils, he acknowledges that the lesser is still an evil. The penitent will not bend her morals for the sake of expediency, or even to preserve his own life.

Oath Spells

3rd - Compelled Duel, Ensnaring Strike

5th - Blindness/Deafness, Crown of Madness

9th - Life Transference, Fear

13th - Freedom of Movement, Death Ward

17th - Hallow, Dawn

Channel Divinity

Stigmata. Draw upon your life’s blood to strike down the wicked. As a bonus action, sacrifice 10 points of HP from your Lay on Hands pool to add 1d8 necrotic damage to each of your weapon attacks. You may gain a number of die equal to your Charisma modifier (minimum of +1). This effect ends when you die, are incapacitated, or take a long rest.

Rebuke the Wicked. If an enemy within 10 feet of you does damage to an ally, you may use your action to lock eyes with that enemy. Your target must make a Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, the enemy takes 2d6 radiant damage and becomes frightened of you for one turn. On a successful save, the enemy takes half as much radiant damage and is not frightened. This ability may be used a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier (minimum of +1).

Aura of Affliction

Starting at 7th level, your unfaltering resolve in the face of affliction inspires your allies to greater fortitude. So long as you remain conscious, you and any creatures of your choice within 10 feet add your proficiency bonus to any Wisdom or Constitution checks.

At 18th level, this aura extends to 30 feet.

Divine Judgement

At 15th level, your Channel Divinity abilities are improved. Stigmata now provides 1d12 per 10 HP sacrificed. Rebuke the Wicked now deals a total of 4d6 radiant damage.

Final Atonement

At 20th level, you can call upon the desperate courage of one fighting his final battle. Using your action, you undergo a transformation. For 1 minute, you gain the following benefits:

Whenever you cast a paladin spell that has a casting time of 1 action, you can cast it using a bonus action instead.

When you take the Attack action on your turn, you can make one additional attack as part of that action.

When taking damage that would otherwise reduce your HP to 0, if you are not killed outright you may make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw. Upon success, your HP is instead reduced to 1. Upon each use of this ability, the DC increases by 5.

This effect ends early if you are incapacitated or die. Once you use this feature, you cannot use it again until you finish a long rest.

#dnd #paladin #homebrew

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howlingday · 3 months

Text

RWBY ReWritten:

SALEM

"Your grace, we will be approaching Atlas soon."

"..."

"Y-Your grace? Um, we will be approaching Atlas soo-"

"I heard you the first time."

"Oh, um, yes, your grace."

"Do you think I'm stupid? That I've gone blind and deaf and must be told things twice?"

"N-No, your grace! I would never-"

"Oh, are you questioning my mental faculties? That I'm in some way wrong for explaining this to you? Is that why you are still standing in my presence?"

"I... I..."

The mighty behemoth Grimm bellowed, opening its maw to the freezing air around it. The servant struggled to hold onto the internal walls of the massive Grimm whale but found himself slipping. Thankfully, there was something he could hold onto. Some leverage that would keep him from falling.

That is until the beam struck his arm. He screamed as he hurtled to his death far below. Monstra shut its maw and continued on course. A smile graced her lips. The flight to Atlas was getting so dull.

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

"Have every available specialist on site."

"Yes, General!"

"Make sure every dust-powered gun is fully stocked."

"Yes, General!"

"Schnee!" The general whirled to his lieutenant, looking her in the eyes. "The Winter Maiden-"

"Is in our custody, General." Winter swiftly responded. "Atlas will not fall."

"For both our sakes, Schnee, I hope you're right." He sighed. "How long before she arrives?"

"An hour at most, General." She followed him as he left his office. "Do you have any further orders, General?"

"Keep the Winter Maiden away from the landing zone. Evacuate all citizens to the bunkers. And as soon as Salem's forces are in our sights-"

"Fire to eliminate. Yes, General-" The was a buzz and chatter on the communications. Winter held her hand up, eyes widening. "General, sir, the east cannon battalion has opened fire, they confirm a direct hit!"

At this time, there would be a sigh of relief washing over the room. People would be cheering and celebrating a victory as the cannons were made of the highest quality dust that the Schnee Dust Company could provide, and each cannon packed enough firepower to destroy two Mountain Glenns. But the room was filled with the best and brightest of Atlas.

"Target still en route, General."

"Dammit all." He growled. "Tell East Cannon to fire again when they're ready. Do whatever it takes to destroy that Grimm!"

"Yes, General." She tapped her earpiece. "East Cannon Battalion, come in." She waited. "East Cannon Battalion, respond!" She waited less. "East Cannon-"

"Schnee." A hand landed on her shoulder. She looked to the screen ahead and shuddered in horror at what she saw.

Hundreds of dots blanketed over where East Cannon was station. The green triangle that indicated their position and communication capabilities was no longer visible. She looked to the general, who shook his head.

"Get to the Winter Maiden."

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

The landing on the east side of Atlas was anything but smooth. Between the pounding cannon fire and the obstructing hard-light shields, Monstra was almost certain to not make it. Thankfully, Salem had already planned for such obstacles, thanks in part to the genius of her servants. Anyone who failed in their tasking would have... Well, she could always use more practice.

The maw of Monstra opened just enough to allow Salem to exit and for her army to be seen inside the Grimm. It was such a lovely day, and though she was a busy woman, she could take the time to appreciate the lovely red sky overhead. When she saw a bullhead land and a familiar face step out from it, a smile spread over her face and she hurried to meet him.

"Hello, James~!" She called sweetly. He held his hand up, ordering her to stop. She gave a giggle. It was always cute when they thought they were in control.

"By order of the Atlas military," he called through a speaker device, "you are not permitted to come any further into Atlas, Mantle, or any property protected by Atlas Huntsmen Jurisdiction!"

"Oh?" She raised her brow. "You want me to leave? That's the only thing you want? Well, I can certainly do that. I'll even take my army with me!" She held up two fingers. "But I have some demands of my own." There was a long, uncomfortable quiet, the kind that only came from the meek and insubordinate, two things Atlas was infamous for.

"First," she began, "I demand the Winter Maiden. Bring her to me and I shall leave. Then, I demand the Relic of Creation, and in return, I shall take my army with me." No response still. It was starting- No, it was beyond starting and well into annoying her. Balling her fist, she walked closer. Maybe they didn't hear her? "I hate repeating myself, but I'll blame these damnable winds just this once. Give me the Winter Maiden and the-"

Black ash and white embers sprayed into the winds of Atlas. From the distance, a sniper cocked his weapon to the ready position after reloading. There was a quiet cheer held around him as they confirm the hit. The general, however, was livid.

"You foo-"

But before they could hear his reprimands, a thin beam of magic passed through his vision, striking the sniper where between the eyes and killing him instantly. The snipers around him died shortly after in the blast that followed. General Ironwood was frozen in fear.

"Really, James?" He whirled to the woman reforming, her finger still aloft from where the beam had been fired. "How rude. But for the sake of diplomacy, I will only kill half of your men."

She rushed forward, her long black dress doing nothing to slow her down. Atlas armaments roared as she was fired upon by everything from rifles to rockets. This, too, proved fruitless as smaller beams were fired from each of her fingers, killing dozens of men. General Ironwood could take this gross decimation no longer and charged the cackling witch.

"Fighting me yourself, James? Is that really how a general should command his men?" He fired into her twice, destroying both of her hands before getting close enough to strike her with his pistols. Every strike caused black ichor to spill from her body, but even as more pistol rounds were fired into her, she would not fall. If anything, it only made her cackle harder.

"I won't let you destroy Atlas!"

"It was already destroyed the moment you chose to side with them!"

"Enough!" The two looked over to see an old woman approaching with a younger woman behind her. In the old woman's hands was a long, gilded staff topped with a blue crystal. "That's enough, James. Atlas has fallen."

"Finally, someone with some sense." Salem said as her wounds began to fill themselves. "And seeing as Atlas still remains in the air, I assume you are the Winter Maiden keeping it afloat, yes?"

"Yes."

"Dammit, Schnee!" General Ironwood shouted. "I ordered you to-"

"Shut up, will you?" The Winter Maiden snarled. "Your bullheadedness is what killed this kingdom. Atlas has fallen, but there is still time before it collides with Mantle. The people have already fled for Argus. This battle is over."

"Do you hear that, James? You still have people to protect. I will grant the mercy of maintaining your dignity as you flee with your tail between your legs." She returned her attention to the Winter Maiden. "Well, shall we?"

"Wait just a moment." She glared into the red of eyes of evil. "Before we leave, I have one request."

"Oh? You think you're in a position to make demands of me?"

"Not a demand. A request from an old woman. I wish to see my granddaughter."

"Oh, a family reunion? Well, I see no reason to not reunite family. After all, I do so wish to reunite with my dearly departed husband, if only so I could wring his neck myself."

"General, sir?" Winter place a hand on his shoulder as he watched in horror as the two greatest powers of Atlas left for the same Grimm that had invaded not so long before. "It's time to go, sir. We... Atlas has fallen."

#rwby #rwby au #rwby rewritten #salem #james ironwood #winter schnee

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magnetothemagnificent · 1 year

Text

וַיֹּ֨אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֣ה אֶל־יְהֹוָה֮ בִּ֣י אֲדֹנָי֒ לֹא֩ אִ֨ישׁ דְּבָרִ֜ים אָנֹ֗כִי גַּ֤ם מִתְּמוֹל֙ גַּ֣ם מִשִּׁלְשֹׁ֔ם גַּ֛ם מֵאָ֥ז דַּבֶּרְךָ֖ אֶל־עַבְדֶּ֑ךָ כִּ֧י כְבַד־פֶּ֛ה וּכְבַ֥ד לָשׁ֖וֹן אָנֹֽכִי׃

And Moshe said to G-d, "Please, my Lord, I am not a man of words, not yesterday nor the day before, nor even now as You speak to Your servant, for I am heavy of mouth and heavy of tongue."

וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יְהֹוָ֜ה אֵלָ֗יו מִ֣י שָׂ֣ם פֶּה֮ לָֽאָדָם֒ א֚וֹ מִֽי־יָשׂ֣וּם אִלֵּ֔ם א֣וֹ חֵרֵ֔שׁ א֥וֹ פִקֵּ֖חַ א֣וֹ עִוֵּ֑ר הֲלֹ֥א אָנֹכִ֖י יְהֹוָֽה׃

And G-d said to him, "Who gave man a mouth, or who created the mute, or the deaf, or the intelligent, or the blind? Is it not I, G-d?"

וְעַתָּ֖ה לֵ֑ךְ וְאָנֹכִי֙ אֶֽהְיֶ֣ה עִם־פִּ֔יךָ וְהוֹרֵיתִ֖יךָ אֲשֶׁ֥ר תְּדַבֵּֽר׃

"And now, go, and I will be with your mouth and I will instruct you what to say."

וַיֹּ֖אמֶר בִּ֣י אֲדֹנָ֑י שְֽׁלַֽח־נָ֖א בְּיַד־תִּשְׁלָֽח׃

And he said, "Please, my Lord, send someone else to be Your hand."

וַיִּֽחַר־אַ֨ף יְהֹוָ֜ה בְּמֹשֶׁ֗ה וַיֹּ֙אמֶר֙ הֲלֹ֨א אַהֲרֹ֤ן אָחִ֙יךָ֙ הַלֵּוִ֔י יָדַ֕עְתִּי כִּֽי־דַבֵּ֥ר יְדַבֵּ֖ר ה֑וּא וְגַ֤ם הִנֵּה־הוּא֙ יֹצֵ֣א לִקְרָאתֶ֔ךָ וְרָאֲךָ֖ וְשָׂמַ֥ח בְּלִבּֽוֹ׃

And G-d became frustrated with Moshe, and He said, "Behold, Aharon your brother the Levite, I know he can speak and behold he is already setting out to greet you and he is happy in his heart to see you."

וְדִבַּרְתָּ֣ אֵלָ֔יו וְשַׂמְתָּ֥ אֶת־הַדְּבָרִ֖ים בְּפִ֑יו וְאָנֹכִ֗י אֶֽהְיֶ֤ה עִם־פִּ֙יךָ֙ וְעִם־פִּ֔יהוּ וְהוֹרֵיתִ֣י אֶתְכֶ֔ם אֵ֖ת אֲשֶׁ֥ר תַּעֲשֽׂוּן׃

"And you shall speak to him and I will put the words in his mouth and I will be with your mouth and with his mouth, and I will instruct you both what to do."

[Exodus, Shemot, 4:10-15]

וַיֹּ֥אמֶר מֹשֶׁ֖ה לִפְנֵ֣י יְהֹוָ֑ה הֵ֤ן אֲנִי֙ עֲרַ֣ל שְׂפָתַ֔יִם וְאֵ֕יךְ יִשְׁמַ֥ע אֵלַ֖י פַּרְעֹֽה׃

And Moshe said before G-d, "Behold I have sealed lips, and how shall Pharaoh listen to me?"

וַיֹּ֤אמֶר יְהֹוָה֙ אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֔ה רְאֵ֛ה נְתַתִּ֥יךָ אֱלֹהִ֖ים לְפַרְעֹ֑ה וְאַהֲרֹ֥ן אָחִ֖יךָ יִהְיֶ֥ה נְבִיאֶֽךָ׃

And G-d said to Moshe, "Behold, I have made you a god over Pharaoh and Aharon your brother will be your prophet."

[Exodus, Shemot, 6:30-7:1]

Thinking about how Aharon was happy to be Moshe's interpreter and was his supportive older brother, and was so important in Moshe's life, and didn't overshadow him because interpreters aren't supposed to speak for disabled people, but rather repeat their own words.

[id in alt text]

#jumblr #jewish art #my art #digital art #tanakh #moshe rabbeinu #aharon hacohen #disabled jews #judaism

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ladystoneboobs · 8 months

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in honor of that brienne gay-bashing loras joke post, a list of who did and did not know about renly/loras

in the know:

the other tyrells-the text isn't so clear about what marg and olenna know, but they're ladies who like to know things, and marg is close to loras. i think it's a pretty safe assumption. esp wrt littlefinger saying a no-marriage kg-type post for loras was even more important to his family than with other dynastically unneeded younger sons. (like presumed-hetero waymar royce)

petyr baelish-scheming gossipmonger, see above

varys-an assumption for the same reason as littlefinger, though he's not as close to the tyrells. knowing other people's business is his business. dude has children crawling in the walls of people's bedrooms!

stannis baratheon-renly's (somewhat smarter) brother who was always jealous of his happiness. i think his words about marg's virginity in their failed parley are pretty clear, and as someone who believes himself an honest man, we know he meant it. if he knew of renly's plot with the tyrells to set up robert with marg, then i think he knew which tyrell renly really wanted.

oberyn martell-calls loras "renly's little rose". friends with willas tyrell after crippling him, and willas would know oberyn would not judge his little brother's sexuality since oberyn also had sex with men himself.

jaime lannister-threatening loras about shoving his sword "up some place even renly never found" is pretty self-explanatory. the lannister twins did live with renly at court for years. the threat feels tinged with homophobia but he and loras later became friendly, with loras comfortable enough to discuss renly's porno books with jaime.

cersei lannister-would know through the same experiences at court as jaime, but the only one truly prejudiced who definitely knew. thought loras might recruit her 8yo son into gayness, but also had no concept of a man only being into other men. when suspecting marg's sexual history, she thought that as robert's brother renly couldn't totally resist sex with women, comparing it to herself enjoying other drinks when wine is not on hand.

renly's former servants-tyrion was told by varys that running renly's household gave sansa's new handmaiden, brella, "a deal of practice at being blind, deaf, and mute."

probably not in the know:

randyll tarly-i have a hard time believing a he-man woman-hater like that wouldn't also have some homophobia, yet he was loyal enough to loras and renly to murder fellow reachermen whose lords had gone over to stannis after renly's murder. (cortnay penrose even lists him among those "who loved renly best", which is kinda funny to me. i just hate this man too much to imagine him an lgbtq ally.) the same probably goes for other tyrell and baratheon bannermen loyal to king renly. those outside the inner circle of renly and/or the tyrells, and/or other insiders at court in kl, were unlikely to know about renly/loras. (the equivalent of reddit dudebros who thought that king renly and his kg lc really were just praying together.) let alone the general populace who only knew of them but didn't really know them.

ned & catelyn stark-ned thought there was something "queer" about renly's supposed interest in margaery, but that's as close as he ever got. we can joke about all that the starks missed, but it's not like either of them knew renly all that well as an adult. catelyn is sometimes more perceptive than ned was when she has enough to work with. (her own uncle blackfish may also be queer, while ned was blind to his own homoerotic feelngs for robert.)

brienne of tarth and sansa stark-i think lack of gaydar is something else these two had in common, one with her hopeless crush on renly, the other on loras. though it's not like either of them really knew the object of their fantasies.

tyrion lannister-did not live at court with his siblings when renly did. some people point to the brella quote as proof he did know, but that's him repeating varys with no specificity. renly did have other secrets, as do all schemers in kl, such as the plot to replace cersei with marg. whatever tyrion learned about renly, idt he knew the full truth about renly/loras as he shows no sign of understanding who loras meant in the candle vs. sun convo. he asked if loras would miss the chance to marry and breed, saying how fun the procreative act is, as if they were both heteros horny for women. this shows that it's not just a matter of lack of gaydar or just plain denseness when someone as clever as tyrion didn't know the full truth. though their love affair was not illegal like jaime/cersei's, they couldn't exactly be out and proud either.

robert baratheon-may have known about renly, but idt he'd say loras was a son any man would want if he knew that was his baby bro's boyfriend. maybe most people wouldn't shun their own family members for their sexuality, but idt a gay guy would be most people's idea of a dream son either. the legality of their affair may have allowed them to be somewhat more open than jaime/cersei, but robert was still pretty dense. so just as he was likely the only member of his own council never to learn of cersei's affair, he was probably also still in the dark about the details of his own brother's private life, and that's something he probably wouldn't want to think about anyway.

donal noye-i think he joined the nw soon after the siege of storm's end, when renly was still a little kid. let's assume he never knew renly's sexuality then, else his blunt dismissal and evident dislike of renly could be read as homophobia. instead he was just hating on a 6yo for the sake of hating, but it was not a hate crime driven by bigotry.

eta: a firm maybe i like to headcanon

barristan selmy-the renly/loras relationship is never addressed wrt him or mentioned in his own later pov, so that's why he can only be a maybe. however, unlike randyll tarly, he is a confirmed canonical ally who believes in the concept of same-sex marriage bonds between two men. (however accidental this char trait may be, since idt grrm had decided yet to make one of egg's sons gay, --jilting olenna for a fellow knight like her future grandson--when he first wrote barry thinking that all of aegon v's sons had married for love) we know he and renly were inter-generational work buddies, to the point that renly was confident enough to try saving his last rainbow cloak for barristan for a while. (so that he could serve under loras as lc? the same storied barristan the bold/old who initially disapproved of jaime's post based solely on youth? loras may have been a bit older than 15, but was even less experienced then newly-knighted jaime in real combat as a green tourney knight, however acclomplished in his young jousting career.) we know barristan is consistently nonjudgmental of other people's (legal or de facto legal) love affairs whether it be his former kg bro prince lewyn's paramour or his defense of dany keeping daario as her paramour, (even if he disagreed with her taste in men), and we know from his long kg career that he was very good at keeping royal secrets.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #renly baratheon #loras tyrell #some roses have steel thorns #stag party #(c)lsb #The Knight of Flowers had been so mad with grief for Renly #happy stag and steel thorn saturday

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bananadrinkxxx · 9 months

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THE BLOOD CROWN

PART 16

[Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction ]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

[warnings: smut, sex content, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

Content for adults.

Previous and next chapters: click here

The castle had been in great turmoil when it became known that Lucerys Velaryon had managed to escape.

But no one believed that he had done it alone. They suspected that he had received help, and this help they suspected among them. The other servants looked at Rose suspiciously, knowing that she had been alone with Lucerys several times. They did not say it openly, but Rose was not blind and deaf. She saw them glances and heard them whispering behind her. Aemond had raved when he had received the news. He had not given her another glance as he stormed out of his chambers.

Rose also suspected that someone had helped him. There was no way to escape.

Rose watched as the guards searched the servants' quarters for clues and evidence as to who had freed Lucerys Velaryon from his room.

They knew no mercy. Every man, woman, and even child was taken for questioning. Although she was innocent and had no idea who had freed the prince, she was afraid of what they would do to her if they found her guilty. She had been alone with him several times. Would they believe her words?

Suddenly Rose felt a grip around her arm and was whirled around. She looked into the eyes of Ser Criston Cole, who was looking at her seriously.

"You forgot someone," the knight said loudly, and Rose saw out of the corner of her eye one of the guards approaching, ready to take her away.

"That won't be necessary."

All eyes turned to Aemond only walking quickly toward them. His gaze locked on Ser Criston's hand, which Rose still clutched. His grip was hard and unyielding, as if he feared she would run loose if he let go.

"My prince, all servants must be interrogated," Criston objected, and Aemond raised an eyebrow.

"Not her, so let her go."

"The king-"

"The king is not in charge of the investigation, I am, and you will do as I command, understand?," Aemond came closer. His look was deadly serious. "Unless you refuse to follow my orders?"

Rose got goose bumps all over her body. She looked to Cole who swallowed and looked down at her hesitantly, as if he was actually considering resisting before letting her go, but not without shoving her forward slightly first. It did not go unnoticed by Aemond, and he took another step toward the man. The prince was taller than Criston, which is why he looked down on him.

"Don't challenge me, Cole. I am in an unspeakably negative mood at the moment. I would regret having to take it out on you."

Ser Criston narrowed his eyes and looked at the ground.

"Forgive me, my prince. I have forgotten myself. Last night was fraught for me as well."

Aemond surveyed the knight for a moment before he snorted and he let his gaze continue to wander to Rose. Rose thought he was going to say something to her, take her with him, but instead of responding to her further, he turned and left her behind.

Rose looked after the young man and she felt a stab in her heart. She had hoped for tenderness, for some kind of affection that would show her that he thought of her as she thought of him, but since Lucerys escape, Aemond seemed changed. Cold and dismissive. She understood that he had a lot to do, that there were more important things than her desires, but still she could not completely suppress the feeling of sadness inside her. Just like the feeling of guilt that had flowed through her right after she had breathed a sigh of relief when she had heard about Lucerys escape.

T̶H̶E̶ ̶B̶L̶O̶O̶D̶ ̶C̶R̶O̶W̶N̶

Rhaenyra had been asleep when she was roused from her sleep by her guards.

She didn't find much sleep these days and when she did, it was only plagued by nightmares and fears. When she opened her eyes, she looked directly into those of her lord husband, who was also immediately awake. Daemon stood up, dressed only in a linen shirt, and opened the door.

Ser Erryk bowed.

"We have sighted a foreign boat. It is heading for the island, my prince."

Daemon didn't hesitate long, he pulled on his pants and boots and reached for his sword. He took one last look at Rhaenyra before running out the door. They were not expecting anyone. Whoever it was probably didn't have good intentions. Rhaenyra didn't care that her hair was messy or that she was only wearing a nightgown. She put on her cloak and followed Daemon, accompanied by Ser Erryk, who did not leave her side.

Daemon was already out of the castle, but before he slipped out of her sight, Rhaenyra suddenly perceived a petite figure. It was dark and the light from the torches was not bright enough. Daemon stopped, with more men behind him. Rhaenyra walked a few steps further, but continued to be behind Daemon and the king's guard, who were ready to draw their swords at any moment.

The figure stepped closer and closer until it suddenly looked familiar to Rhaenyra. The face became sharper by the second, and when she realized who was approaching, a stunned cry escaped her throat before she forgot everyone around her and started running.

She ran as fast as she could. She didn't care if her feet bored into her flesh from the hard little stones beneath her inner surface and left unpleasant marks. Rhaenyra weaved past Daemon, spreading her arms and wrapping the intruder tightly in her arms. She felt her body being embraced as well.

"Mother," a boy's voice called out in relief, and Rhaenyra pressed him even tighter against her body.

"Luke, my boy, you have returned, you have returned to me," she cried into her son's dirty hair. She held her little boy in her arms, something she no longer thought possible.

Lucerys Velaryon had returned to Dragonstone.

Back to his mother, back to his family.

She loosened the embrace, only to take his face in her trembling hands and look at her son. He was unharmed, thin and deep shadows lay under his eyes, but he appeared unharmed for the first moment.

"I thank the gods, you're back. Are you hurt? I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry," she pleaded and Lucerys shook his head and smiled at her. His hands touched hers and pressed her tighter against him. "I was going to come get you. I wouldn't have let you. I wouldn't have let it happen, ever."

They were reunited.

"I'm fine, Mother," Lucerys confirmed, disengaging himself slightly. Physically, but mentally, this experience had left something on him. He had known that the Greens were not well-disposed toward them. He had known that they didn't want his mother to have the throne and that they started rumors about him and his siblings, talking about them as bastards, always careful not to attribute it to them, in order to steal the throne from his mother, but he hadn't expected this hatred that he had experienced.

War was inevitable. Neither side would give up.

"I'm back."

"You're back," Rhaenyra repeated, smiling. Happiness was written all over her face.

Her son, thought dead, had returned. Into her arms and she would not let him go again. Never again.

Then she felt the wetness that had passed through Lucerys clothes and she rubbed her son's body to warm him.

"Let's go inside. You need to warm up, you need new clothes."

Lucerys nodded and followed his mother. Their hands wedged together and neither of them let go.

Lucerys' eyes met Daemon's, who looked at him with relief. His stepfather's hand placed itself on his brown hair and he pressed it to his body, pulling him into a hug that Lucerys returned.

"I owe you my life, Daemon," Lucerys said, and he saw his mother look at her consort in surprise. Didn't she know what Daemon had done to free him?

"We are family," Daemon replied, nodding at him. Lucerys smiled and then looked at his mother. He didn't think he would ever see her beautiful face again. That he would ever look into her shining eyes. His perfect mother. Happiness overwhelmed him. He had finished with his life, he had been ready to die, but now he was standing here again, at his mother's side, ready to do anything for her to get justice. He had lost his dragon, his poor innocent dragon, but he would not be useless. His time in the Red Keep had robbed him of his childishness and he would answer with fire and blood.

"Mother, I have much to tell you."

T̶H̶E̶ ̶B̶L̶O̶O̶D̶ ̶C̶R̶O̶W̶N̶

Rose turned around when she heard another murmur behind her. Two women looked down at her dismissively before noticing her gaze and turning around.

"Ignore the stupid geese," Dyana said, handing her a piece of cheese. Rose looked at her in surprise. "The chef likes me."

"I think it's more than just 'like,'" Rose joked, and Dyana blushed.

"I have no interest in these-," she faltered briefly. "Things," she added softly. A feeling of pity ran through Rose. She knew by now what had happened between her friend and Aegon. That sort of thing spread quickly through the castle. Dyana had never talked about it, but she didn't need to. Rose had watched how she hid when the king was around, how she looked down when they talked about him, and how she avoided any kind of task when dealing with him.

"How are the children?" asked Dyana gloomily, trying to start a new topic. She had previously been the nanny of Helaena's and Aegon's children.

"The twins are very withdrawn and cry often, but Prince Maelor seems unchanged. The assumption is that he hasn't understood much. He is very young."

Dyana nodded. A shadow stretched across her face. She looked dejected, but Rose blamed it on her relationship with the children. As a former nanny, the children meant something to her.

"And... and the Queen?"

Helaena was another matter. She did not leave her chambers, did not eat and only cried. Guilt was eating her up and no one seemed to be able to help her. Although her children had survived and no one had been hurt, she had condemned one of her children to death. She would blame herself forever, even though she had no choice.

"She was always so kind," Dyana told me in a trembling voice after listening to Rose's words. She looked dejected. Rose looked for something comforting, but before she could say anything, Dyana jumped up and took her leave. Rose looked after her in surprise, the cheese Dyana had brought them was still lying completely untouched on her cloth.

. . . . . .

Aegon Targaryen gave a feast in honor of his children. Rose thought it was unwise and naive, especially since it was not known if there were more attackers who were after the lives of the royal family, but she seemed to be the only one. Everyone seemed pleased that the investigation was over. At least the ones that were deemed innocent. Rose didn't want to think about the innocent souls in the abandoned cold dungeons.

She could remember it clearly as if it was yesterday.

Rose helped with the preparations and had been assigned as cupbearer for the evening. The hall was filled with various nobles, they had all come to honor the children of Aegon II. Targaryen in honor, sharing their happiness and relief that the attack had failed.

When Aegon, followed by the Queen Mother Alicent and his hand and grandsire Otto Hightower entered the hall, all voices fell silent. The servants took their places and all eyes were fixed on the king, who was looking seriously around the hall.

"As king, it is my duty to protect this kingdom from enemies and attacks. But this time, this attack was on innocent children, my children, and my beloved wife, your queen. They tried to weaken me and thus attacked not only me as a loving father but also as a king. An attack on the king is therefore also an attack on this kingdom. I promise you that this attack will not remain unanswered, but today I would like to share my happiness with you, the happiness that my family survived this attack unharmed," Aegon said and everyone listened to his voice.

But even though his children and wife survived, Rose would never forget the look of horror in their eyes.

"Let's celebrate so that we don't forget that we are alive and that every moment should be special. But before we celebrate, I would like to thank the heroes and honored guests of the evening," Aegon called out, pointing to his brothers. Daeron smiled at his brother and shook his head sheepishly, while Aemond didn't bat an eye. Rose had not noticed how they had entered. Daeron was dressed in green, while Aemond was completely cloaked in black.

"Aemond and Daeron Targaryen, we celebrate in your honor. The crown is forever in your debt. A toast," Aegon said, and everyone raised their cups. "To my brothers. The heroes of the realm."

"The heroes of the realm," the guests repeated, drinking from their cups before applauding. Then Aegon ordered music to be played and violins as well as drums began to fill the throne room with joyful music.

The servants were given the signal to serve the delicacies. Roasted pigs, delicious sauces, various specialties, including desserts and soups were served and the court jesters did not let them wait long. They were jumping around, doing somersaults and giving advice while the guests were starting to eat. The mood was joyful and exuberant, no one thought of the dangers that lurked outside.

Rose watched as the first nobles took to the dance floor, moving rhythmically in tune with the music. Talya signaled Rose to serve wine to Aegon, who held his cup out impatiently, sunk into his chair. From his facial expressions and glazed eyes, Rose could tell he was already drunk.

As Rose poured wine into Aegon's cup, he looked up at her. The disinterest in his face disappeared and a glint entered his tired eyes.

"Rose," he said with a happy undertone, and she curtsied.

"My king."

"I heard what you did for my children and my sister," he began, turning to her. "You saved my family."

"I did what anyone would have done, my king."

"I doubt that," Aegon objected. "Most of them don't like me. Loyalty to their king is divided. Risking one's own life doesn't come naturally to many, especially when they don't know if it's worth it."

Rose understood what he was hinting at and she shook her head. "I don't expect anything."

"Why not? No gold, no jewelry, or maybe a title?"

"A title?"

"I could make you a lady."

A thoroughly impressive notion, but other than the title of a lady, Rose would not fall changed. There were many women who were rich and had noble blood in them and yet served here. She shook her head. She was not impressed by such things. She had other desires, other needs, but that was not something the king could fulfill for her.

"I desire nothing, my king."

The king raised an eyebrow. He emptied his wine cup in a few gulps and placed the empty cup back on the table in front of him.

"How interesting you are, Rose," Aegon purred, letting his gaze slide over her body. "Then let me make a wish. Dance with me."

Rose looked at him in surprise. He couldn't be serious. The king wanted to dance with a servant. He couldn't.

"Dance with you? You... you honor me, your majesty, but I hardly think that would be appropriate."

"Says who?"

"My king, me," Rose tried to contradict, but Aegon shook his head and stood up. He held out his hand, signaling Rose to take it. Her gaze slid to Aemond and she saw him staring at her and Aegon. His gaze was hard, icy. She saw that he disliked it, but he was the king, what did she have to say in this case?

Suddenly silence returned to the hall and Rose felt all eyes on her. She was uncomfortable with the attention, but Aegon seemed to enjoy shocking everyone present.

Alicent stood up indignantly and grabbed Aegon's arm.

"What are you doing, Aegon?"

"I want to dance, mother."

"You know exactly what I mean."

"She saved my children. Helaena and you. Didn't you say yourself you were grateful?"

"Of course," Alicent hissed as quietly as he could. "But you are the king. It's-"

"Only a dance," Aegon interrupted her, releasing her grip from his arm. "I wish to dance. You yourself said I should try something other than boozing. So I do what my honorable mother asks of me."

The last was definitely mockery and Alicent's face turned red with anger. But she had no choice and sat back with her father, who was watching the events disapprovingly. Rose took in the contemptuous looks of the people, and would have liked to sink into the ground. She took in the hateful looks of the women and the curious but also indignant looks of the men. The looks of the servants seemed dismissive and almost punitive. As if it had been Rose who had asked the king to dance.

"Music," Aegon ordered when she arrived at the center of the dance. The musicians obeyed.

"You can dance, can't you?"

It would have been nice if he had asked that first. The look on her face seemed to speak volumes and Aegon laughed before he began to lead her. "You're lucky I'm an excellent dancer."

Aegon wasn't lying. He really was a good dancer and Rose had nothing else to do but let him lead her.

They danced the whole song. When they stopped musicians Rose wanted to break away from Aegon, but the king held her and signaled them to play a new one. He asked the guests to enter the dance floor as well and after an awkward silence, the first lords and ladies dared to enter the dance floor hesitantly.

"Do you like it, Rose?" asked Aegon as he spun her around.

"Of course, my king," Rose lied, and apparently her look spoke volumes, for Aegon laughed and pulled her close.

"You're not a very good liar."

"Forgive me."

"There's no reason for it. I'm enjoying it for both of us."

As long as at least one does, Rose thought.

"Do you see the looks on their faces?"

They were hard to ignore.

"I guess they're jealous that I get to dance with such a pretty woman and they don't."

Rose doubted that, but she knew Aegon was just buttering her up. For whatever reason that was his intention.

"I think they are jealous of me because the king considers me worthy of dancing with him, despite my lowly origins," Rose replied. What Aegon could do, she had long been able to do. She knew she had to say to please their lordships. They were all the same. Even the king was not exempt from this.

Aegon laughed. "I hardly think so," he said. "Shall I tell you a secret? They think I'm a failure, I know it. They forced me onto this throne, and now they condemn me for not fitting on it."

Rose did not know what to say. Aegon had said it jokingly, but she heard the seriousness in his words. Pity ran through her and Aegon saw it in her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, sweet Rose," he commanded, and suddenly he stopped.

"My brother has truly taken a diamond to his bed."

Rose drew in a startled breath. "You know?" she asked in a trembling voice, and Aegon laughed. He leaned out with a grin.

"Of course, we tell each other everything."

It was humiliating to be called on it by Aegon. She felt like a whore, probably she was in his eyes. It was a sin to become intimate before marriage. As a woman, it was even more reprehensible.

"But my brother is not very experienced in this field. I fear your disappointment."

Rose had no idea what he was talking about. The two nights she and Aemond had spent together had been perfect and Rose could hardly have imagined these experiences better.

She felt the need to point out to Aegon to praise Aemond in front of him, but before she could say anything, Aegon grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her close to him.

"Let me prove it to you," he breathed, and before Rose could do anything, he pressed his lips to her mouth. She widened her eyes and didn't know what to do for a moment before she pressed her hands to his chest and tried to push him away from her. But Aegon was superior to her in size and strength.

"Please stop," Rose pleaded between slightly parted lips, but Aegon didn't even notice her words. he didn't care. He only pressed her tighter against him, but before he could do anything more, he was suddenly pulled away from her and another person stood between them.

Rose looked at the silver hair of Aemond that was spread wildly over his back.

"What do you think you're doing, brother?"

There was an irritated expression on Aegon's face, but it disappeared when he registered his brother in front of him.

A smile appeared on his lips.

"What then Aemond, didn't you like the performance?"

"You're making a fool of yourself."

"Why? Because I'm having fun? I'm just enjoying the presence of the enchanting Rose." Aegon winked at her. His kiss still burned on her lips.

Aemond reached for his collar. Aegon grinned. He was provoking his little one on purpose, Rose realized. "Aemond," Alicent called out, but no one paid her any attention.

"Stop provoking me, Aegon. That's not why you're embarrassing her."

"She is embarrassed to dance with the king? Is that true, my rose?"

Aegon's gaze turned to Rose, but before she could say anything, Aemond beat her to it.

"She is not 'your' Rose, Aegon."

Aegon made a pout.

"Why not?" he asked, feigned sadness. "Don't you think that 'my' wife, is 'yours', or why are you always with her?"

"She's my sister, you son of a bitch," Aemond hissed snidely. His voice trembled with anger.

"Why? She's mine, too, isn't she? That doesn't stop her from being a woman." Aegon raised his shoulders and stepped closer to his brother. While Aemond stared down at him with hatred, joy could be seen dancing in Aegon's eyes.

"It's all good, Aemond. I don't have a problem with it. You can have her," Aegon whispered, so softly that only Aemond and she, heard him. "Just give me yours," Aegon looked at her and winked. Rose felt sick. His hand was on Aemond's shoulder, as if he were giving him friendly advice. "-and I'll give you mine. We'll do a whore swap, does sound fair, right? Helaena is still tight, I haven't been inside her much."

Rose didn't see Aemond's fist coming, but the impact in Aegon's face drowned it all out. Aegon flew backward from the blow, lost his balance and landed on the floor. Screams echoed through the hall. Rose saw Aemond lunge at his brother. The guards left their posts and rushed to the king's aid, but no one really knew what to do. Aemond was Aegon's brother, a Targaryen prince and had high command.

"Pull the prince down from the king," Ser Criston Cole shouted.

The men obeyed and reacted quickly. It took three men to pull Aemond off Aegon. Aegon pushed himself backward and came staggering to his feet. He spat the blood on the ground and looked angrily at his younger brother, who returned his gaze.

"Aegon," Alicent hissed, trying to hold Aegon down, but the king tore away from her.

"Your behavior is shameful, you-"

"I'm what? Huh? A disappointment? Less worthy than your favoriteson? What is it this time, mother?"

Alicent looked at him in shock. "I was going to say you're the king."

Aegon laughed. "Yes, thanks to you, we all know it."

He looked bitter and looked accusingly at his mother.

With those words, Aegon turned and stomped out of the dance hall without paying attention to anyone else. Rose's gaze locked on Aemond as he wiped the blood from his face. He looked angrily after Aegon.

"Aemond," Alicent began, but Aemond avoided her touch. "Not now, Mother," he said harshly, an unusual tone he directed at his adored mother, and reached for Rose's hand to pull her with him. Rose trudged after him, feeling the stares of the others on her neck.

. . . . . .

Dyana watched the scenario between Aemond and Aegon. She looked at Rose, who watched the two of them stunned as they made a laughing stock of the royal family. When Aegon had kissed Rose, she had expected the king to take something that didn't belong to him again, but what she didn't expect was that Aemond Targaryen would get in his way.

Was Rose sleeping with the prince? Did she also sleep with the king? Anger spread through her body.

She looked at Talya, who gave her a knowing look. She didn't know if it was because of Rose or the fact that Dyana was now working for the same person as her.

After Aegon had robbed her of her honor and Queen Alicent had stomped on it once again, Dyana had spent every night hating them more and more. She had longed for revenge more and more with every breath she had taken. And when the Gray Worm had contacted her through Talya, she had taken that chance. What she didn't know, however, was that they were planning to kill the Queen's children. She had thought that they were all going to be distracted while Dyana freed the prince, who had been imprisoned in the Red Keep for far too long.

"Dyana," Lucerys had said, taking her hand. "I will never forget you. We will return and take what is ours, and then I will make sure my mother knows we are forever in your debt."

He had kissed her on the cheek before he had fled. She had looked after him for a long time, her hand on her cheek, protecting the feeling on it that Lucerys had left behind. She was hopelessly in love with the prince. She would have done anything for him, but now she had to be careful not to let her betrayal be traced back to her. Blood and Cheese, names that should be known in all seven kingdoms by now, were dead and the only ones who knew of their betrayals were their employers.

But Dyana had chosen her side.

She inevitably wondered if her only friend would now become her enemy as she watched Rose join Aemond, her face anxiously resting on him.

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francesminos-tt · 9 months

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blind!joffrey au he and daeron fight for some reason (maybe a misunderstanding and lack of communication) but they make up at night :)

It turned out sillier than I expected, but I hope it’s still cute.

The most frustrating thing of being blind was that sometimes people acted as if you didn’t even exist. Joffrey knew this too well. He was right there, sitting in his favorite armchair and enjoying the warm sun on his skin, but the two chamber maids were gossiping to each other as if Joffrey was as deaf as he was blind.

Normally, he didn’t mind it too much. Some of the court gossips were entertaining, and Joffrey could use them to start a conversation with his husband during dinner. The thought of Daeron put a smile on his face. Joffrey brushed his fingertip against his wedding ring, feeling the cool metal band and the large gemstone in the middle. Daeron told him the gemstone was called opal, a soft brown gem that was the same shade of brown as Joffrey’s eyes. Joffrey had no idea what opal or the color brown was, but he appreciated Daeron’s gesture.

“Do you know Prince Daeron’s new hobby?” One of the chamber maids said in a hushed tone.

“What can interest the prince except for swords training and dragon riding?” The other maid chuckled, “I have never seen him pay attention to anything other than these two things.”

“Well, you are in for a surprise then.” The first maid paused, “I saw his grace with Lady Farman in the garden three days in a row!”

“Lady Farman? From Fair Isle?”

“The one and only. It is said that maidens from the Fair Isle all live up to their names. Let me tell you, Lady Farman surely does! She’s so pretty! Especially her brown eyes. Like melting chocolate.”

“But,” the second maid paused, “Prince Daeron is married to Prince Joffrey?”

“Oh, come on,” Her companion scoffed, “it’s a political union! How could someone as handsome as Prince Daeron be willing to marry a blind man? It’s to unite the two factions. Surely his grace wants someone who can actually keep him company.”

Joffrey bit his lip and tried his best to stay silent. What good would it do, if he reminded them that he had been listening to the conversation all along? That he was only blind, not deaf? That it was his husband they were talking about?

No. Joffrey didn’t think it would make any difference. Their words were not wrong. Joffrey had only taken on a stroll with Daeron in the garden once. He remembered that he clung to his husband the entire time, and Daeron had to keep telling him to mind his steps. It was a hilarious experience for them, and Joffrey had never suspected otherwise. But now, he wasn’t so sure. What if Daeron didn’t find it hilarious at all? What if Daeron found him annoying? What if Daeron was lying when he said he had loved Joffrey for years? What if Daeron realized that Joffrey’s unfocused brown eyes were not gems, and decided to find a pair of better ones? Such as Lady Farman’s pretty brown eyes that looked like melting chocolate?

The more Joffrey thought about that, the more he was convinced that Daeron had lied to him from the beginning. The maids had already moved on to other topics, leaving Joffrey to dwell on his thoughts alone. Joffrey tried his best to ignore the tug on his heart, the disappointment, the anger, the pain of being played like a fool.

When Daeron returned to his quarters, Joffrey was not there. Strange. Joffrey always welcomed him with a kiss and a bright smile. Where could Joffrey go? It was already dark.

Daeron put the gift he got for Joffrey down on the table before leaving the room again. He didn’t need to search for long, for Joffrey was seldom seen without him, the Keep’s servants were quick to tell him that Prince Joffrey had gone to the Dragon Pit.

What could Joffrey possibly do in the Dragon Pit after dark? He couldn’t fly, and today was not his scheduled day to see Tyraxes.

Daeron met Joffrey outside the Dragon Pit, the brunette trying to mount his black dragon but to no avail.

“Watch out!” Daeron rushed to Joffrey’s side, just in time to catch the boy falling off from Tyraxes, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Joffrey didn’t reply, only struggled to get free from Daeron.

“Joffrey!” Daeron’s voice hardened instinctively. His heart almost stopped when he saw Joffrey failed to grab the slick black scale. Tyraxes was young dragon, but it was still tall. Several meters fall was no joke.

“Let me go.” Joffrey hissed, keeping his head down.

“No. Unless you promise me not to do anything stupid again.” Daeron tightened his grip of Joffrey’s wrist, his heart still pounding in his chest, hard enough to hurt.

“It’s not stupid!” Joffrey struggled again, “I want to ride my dragon! I am entitled to do this!”

“You can’t ride a dragon, Joffrey! You are blind!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Daeron knew he had pushed too far. Joffrey hated to be called blind to his face. Daeron knew that Joffrey’s biggest regret of being blind was that he could not ride his dragon. Joffrey loved Tyraxes, and he felt guilty of robbing the black drake of the right to fly. Daeron had really hit a sore point.

“Is that what I am to you?” Joffrey said after a long pause, his voice cold as stone, “A blind man?”

“No, Joff, you know I didn’t mean it-”

“Fuck off.” Joffrey bit Daeron’s hand, and took the opportunity to run. He had no idea where he was heading, of course, but he had to leave. He couldn’t be with Daeron right now. How dare his husband say that word to his face? How dare Daeron dismiss his desire to ride Tyraxes?

If only. If only he was not blind, Joffrey could have flown away on Tyraxes by now. He wouldn’t stumble on some damn rock and fall to the ground like a sack.

Shit.

Joffrey groaned as he tried to get back to his feet, but a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist and picked him up, the familiar scent unmistakably belonging to Daeron.

“Stop fighting, please.” Daeron said softly to Joffrey, “You will hurt yourself.”

“None of your business.” Joffrey murmured, too tired to struggle. He would never admit that he missed Daeron’s scent and his husband’s warm embrace.

“You are my husband, Joffrey. You are my business.” Daeron pressed Joffrey’s face to his own chest and began to walk back, “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said the word.”

Joffrey sniffed, but remained silent.

By the time they arrived at their quarters, dinner had already gone cold. Daeron put Joffrey down on the bed and ordered the maids to bring something light and warm.

“And some candied almonds and honey cakes, please.”

Joffrey deliberately ignored the fact that Daeron had just ordered his favorite dessert. If Daeron wanted to sooth Joffrey’s anger with desserts, he thought wrong.

“Can I see your hand, Joff? I want to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

“No,” Joffrey hid his hand behind his back, “I can take care of myself. I don’t need your pity.”

Daeron sighed heavily. On one hand, he was pleased that Joffrey acted so difficult around him. Don’t get him wrong. It was not easy to be on the receiving end of Joffrey’s temper, but Daeron was glad that Joffrey felt comfortable enough to act so free around him. But on the other hand, he didn’t know what had gotten to Joffrey this time, which made it more difficult to sooth his husband’s anger.

“I am not pitying you.” Daeron said gently and sat down on the bed as well, “I worry about you, Joff. You almost scared me to death when you fell from Tyraxes.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? If I die, you can finally get rid of me.” Joffrey said through clenched teeth, “You can be with someone else who is not blind.”

“What makes you think of such nonsense?” Daeron’s patience was wearing thin right now. He couldn’t stand someone belittling his love for Joffrey. not even Joffrey himself.

“You.” Joffrey said flatly, “Do you enjoy your time with Lady Farman, husband? Is she nice? Pretty? Pleasant? I bet she’s a delight to be with.”

Oh.

Oh. Daeron finally figured out where did Joffrey’s anger come from. Was Joffrey jealous?

“Are you jealous?” Daeron chuckled, kicking off his shoes and climbing to the bed. He settled next to Joffrey and trapped the brunette in his arms.

“What’s there to be jealous of?” Joffrey tried to get away, but the king-sized bed could not hold off his husband for long. He found himself surrounded by Daeron’s warmth before he even realized what was happening.

“There is nothing wrong to feel jealous.” Daeron tightened his arms, kissing the top of Joffrey’s head, “I think you are rather cute when you are jealous.”

“I am not-” Joffrey wasn’t sure which claim he wanted to deny, jealous or cute?

Fortunately, Joffrey didn’t have to choose because Daeron sealed their lips together in a tender kiss. Joffrey melted immediately, much to his chagrin, but he had yearned for Daeron’s touch whole day, now he couldn’t resist wanting for more. Joffrey moaned into the kiss, his hands finding their way into Daeron’s silver curls.

“Though I love seeing you jealous, you really don’t need to be.” Daeron whispered against Joffrey’s lips, “I am not attracted to Lady Farman and I will never be.”

“But you took her on a stroll.” Joffrey said, embarrassed by how ridiculous he sounded.

“That’s because I wanted to consult her something and keep it a secret.”

“You have a secret with her?” Joffrey’s unsaid words couldn’t be more clearer. With her? Not me?

“No, silly.” Daeron stroked Joffrey’s cheek before planting a small kiss on the brunette’s lips, “Here, have this.”

Something was pushed into his hands. It was a long, cylinder thing, smooth to the touch, with several holes on one end.

“A flute?”

“You said you wanted one, and Lady Farman happens to have a profound knowledge of this instrument.” Daeron helped Joffrey to put his fingers on each hole, “She also offered to teach you, but I refused.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of you spending time alone with her.”

“Are you jealous, husband?” Joffrey asked, a phantom smile on his lips.

“Maybe.” Daeron pushed Joffrey to the bed and covered the brunette’s body with his own.

The gossip of Prince Daeron taking a liking for Lady Farman soon died down, replaced by a juicy tale of how Prince Daeron almost bent Prince Joffrey in half and pounded into the blind prince with abandon.

#house of the dragon #hotd #joffron #joffrey velaryon #my asks #daeron x joffrey #daeron the daring

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