#god what a FEAST this episode was

[kazz-brekker]

hotd episode 5 thoughts

rip rhea royce, you seemed cool so even though i knew your death was coming i’m a bit sad about it. at least you got to bully daemon before the end.

loved that we got to see larys strong do a bit of scheming and i am quite excited to see where his character will go.

house velaryon and driftmark seem extremely cool, hope we do end up getting a spin-off about them someday.

corlys i am TRYING to stan you but trying to marry off your daughter at 12 and saying your gay son “will grow out of it” is not great behavior.

i do love that rhaenys and corlys are a total power couple who clearly respect and love each other a lot.

i liked the the scene of rhaenyra and laenor walking on the beach and forming their alliance/friendship very much since i’ve always interpreted them as being friends.

i’m glad we got to see some of the relationship between laenor and joffrey before things went south, they seemed really good together and i do wish they had gotten their life of a king consort and his sworn bodyguard.

of the different rumors surrounding rhaenyra and criston cole’s falling-out i have always thought the one where he suggested they run away together and she turned him down made the most sense so i’m glad they went with that one.

i also appreciated that his bitterness towards her is not just “criston’s crush doesn’t like him as much as he likes her” but also his sense of ruined honor.

i Do Not Trust grand maester mellos, something is up with that man. please stop with the leeches i swear to god.

the velaryons entering the wedding was ICONIC, they are legends, they are the moment, i love them.

it was nice seeing seasmoke and meleys but where! is! vhagar!

lyonel strong remains the only person on this show with common sense.

daemon showing up to rhaenyra’s wedding feast despite being in exile was legendary, i expected no less.

also rhaenyra being mean to him when they were dancing and throwing his words back at him was excellent.

alicent entering the feast in her green dress and calling rhaenyra “stepdaughter” was such a power move i literally cannot wait for her villain era.

that wedding was So Fucking Stressful even though i knew going in roughly what was going to happen i was on the edge of my seat.

oh joffrey, if only you were not so good at sussing out who is sleeping together and criston could be normal about his break-up things might have had a much happier ending :(

was hoping we would get more than the few harwin strong crumbs that we did buuuut it seems like he’ll be important in episode 6.

i’m going to miss milly alcock and emily carey but i cannot WAIT to see emma d’arcy and olivia cooke, they are going to absolutely kill it

[evilminji]

Guess what color the Metorite Vandal Savage cuddled with, was?

Did you guess Ectoplasm Green?

Because it waaaaaaaas~ And! Thanks to a Certain Episode That Shall Not Be Named, we know that meteors and other space rocks CAN be Ecto-ranium!

Which!! Suggests OTHER Ecto-Elements may be floating about in space! Not in large amounts, but! Absurdly rare does NOT mean they never land on earth! Consider the various kryptonites! Rare! Still land on earth. Not all are immediately harmful to Kryptonians.

So? What other Ecto-Elements could land on earth? Perhaps one that... unlike Ecto-Ranium... that hurts Ghosts and Limnals? CREATES them?

Imagine if you with? You are Savage. Tired. Sore. Cold. The glowing rock... is WARM.

FEELS warm... deeper even then your skin. Like... like a blessing. Like the Sky Gods have sent you warmth and safety. Chosen you. You are so tired. The rock calls to you. The night is cold. Your body heavy. The light... so... so soft and pretty...

You wake up... Different.

Stronger. Smarter. More AWARE.

As though power has been poured into your veins. You no longer age. Are the ONLY of your kind. Wouldn't it be easy to make assumptions? For Obsession to twist your mind and time to alienate you from humanity? They are infants compared to you.

Isolation HAS been PROVEN to drive humans insane. And in so many ways? He is Isolated. Trapped without access to the Zone, the Realms Infinite. He is the only Man in a sea of violent, gibbering, ever repeating zygote. Thoughtless repetition of history's mistakes, played out before him, like Humanity itself is smashing it's head against a wall again and again and AGAIN.

Nothing new under the sun. Alone, decade after decade after century after millenia. Hungry for the presence of other people, their EMOTIONS and LIFE, but equally unable to bear them. Starving slowly.

Every war, each battle, a feast of SOMETHING that fills his stomach for years. The extreme emotions and sudden ends of Death releasing SOMETHING into the air he can not explain. Can not name. It fills him.

He is Chosen.

He is insane. An inherently social creature driven mad by social isolation. A ghost trapped in flesh, slowly warped by the filters of human perception and prolonged starvation. But... not alone... not forever...

A little town.

In that country built on mass Graves, that thinks so very highly of itself. Founded by witches. A town of CHILDREN. Stumbling and new. Like HIM.

Some stronger then others, as tends to be the case, some clever and sure footed. So many will not stand the tests of Time. They are too weak. But... BUT! Oh~ LOOK At Them! A Tribe of Children.

They will live FOREVER.

They must be protected. As he walks amongst them, he can see them struggle to understand themselves. To hide their greatness from the reactionary masses. Already the children have drawn the attention of some governmental branch of this or that. Were too inexperienced and without leadership.

No Father to guide them. No patriarch.

The best they have is a floating child. "Phantom". Children guiding children, truly it is madness.

As he stands on the steps of the halls of their little town's government hall. Do you think Vandal Savage smiles? Pats the head of a passing child, after he catches her, to keep her from stumbling? Is he the very picture of a pleasant, gregarious man?

How trustworthy.

Vladimir Masters must look up from his work, at his overly ornate desk, and meet the eyes of something far, FAR worse then himself. Know in that instant, as like recognizes like, that a monster has stepped foot into his office. What choice does he make, I wonder?

When his instincts scream this... this is likely it. You have no escape. This thing will go through you, continue on, consume and control until it has it's fill. You are an obstacle it seeks to... Remove.

What does he do then?

In that moment... does he think of the Family his Obsession cradles so dear? The woman he loves, unknowing of this danger? The children, the SON, no doubt first to be targeted after he falls?

I imagine he does.

He cares little for Jack Fenton. But Vladimir Masters, in his own twisted way, does love Jack's family dearly. He sits at his desk, brought from home, bought with stolen wealth, and smiles a businessman's polite smile. Let's his hand brush the decorative bobblehead of to the side. Slips his finger, intangible, just beneath the surface of the plastic...

..to the emergency switch below.

Flick.

Messages Sent.

Three phones light up, dispite having blocked his number. The screen fills with simple messages, repeated and bold.

RUN. GO NOW. I'M ALREADY DEAD.

RUN. RUN. RUN.

PLEASE.

RUN.

@stealingyourbones @hdgnj @ailithnight

[ilexdiapason]

(part one here) (part three here)

(CW: character experiences a severe derealization episode)

“D’you want me to order pizza?” Oli asks, somewhat redundantly, because Martyn is twenty-two (according to the police report) and a gamer, of course he’s not gonna turn down free pizza.

“Oh, god, yeah,” says Martyn. And, a second later - “Please.”

He fires up the Domino’s website obediently, pulls up the deals and picks one that’ll leave him some leftovers for when Martyn’s long gone tomorrow. Meateor for himself, as usual, and then he spins the laptop round on his knees to present Martyn with the options. “What are you having?”

Martyn stares at the screen, unblinking, for a few too many seconds.

“... Something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, just. Um. Been a while.”

“D’you just want a margherita, then? Keep it easy?”

“No, I don’t - I was -” he grimaces, shakes his head roughly, and thumbs at the fabric of his shirt where the tea stain sits “- trying to remember what I liked.”

“Vegetarian?”

“No,” Martyn responds immediately.

“Olives? Mushrooms?”

“I’m not picky -”

“Pineapple on pizza?”

Martyn snorts. “Okay, yeah, I don’t much like pineapple on anything, I’ll give you that.”

“But as a concept.”

“No problem with it.”

“Then, Marty, my friend, you’ve lost the plot.”

He sits another moment, deliberating. Then - “Sweetcorn.”

“Yeah?”

“I like sweetcorn on pizza.”

“Alright,” says Oli, and spins the laptop round again to check the options. “Vegi Supreme or Chicken Feast?”

“I’ll take the chicken,” Martyn says, resolute.

Oli sends the order through, with potato wedges on the side, because it’s his money and he’s gonna pick the extra items for the deal. Then, once the little order tracker with the fake AI has popped up and started telling him stupid jokes to amuse him for the next 25 minutes or so, he turns back to look at Martyn. “Can I ask something?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ask what?”

“And you don’t need to tell me if it’s, like, personal or whatever, just… what were you eating? If you haven’t seen pizza in however long?”

Martyn makes a face. “Whatever, honestly. It wasn’t a big worry for me - I mean, not like I could - yeah, it was just whatever. Not dead yet, so I’m clearly not malnourished.”

Oli cocks his head. “Whatever like whatever you were given, or whatever like you were scavenging?”

“Like - uh - like - I mean, I wouldn’t say scavenging, that’s - like whatever I could find? I know I’m not explaining this very clearly, it’s -”

“No, no, I said you didn’t need to tell me! Don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” (It’s not like Oli doesn’t want to know, but he doesn’t need to know if it’s going to make Martyn uncomfortable to explain it.)

“Anyway. It wasn’t bad, it was just… y’know how Covid makes it so you can’t taste anything? Little bit like that.”

“Original Covid did. I don’t know about all the new variants.”

“Ah, yeah, heard about those! Did they ever run out of Greek letters?”

“Don’t think so, thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” Martyn nods.

Beside Oli, the little Domino’s robot lets him know that their pizzas are now going in the oven.

It feels odd, to be sitting here on the sofa, taking an extended lunch break with somebody who he’s only known from Minecraft servers and scratchy in-game prox chat. It feels odd to know that he’s doing hospitality for a man six or seven years younger than him, a friend who’s never answered out-of-character about himself before today. It feels odd to know that he’s actually looking at the real Martyn - not some rat, not some pirate, just… some guy.

Oli swallows and steels himself for what he’s about to say. “Erm - again. Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But… besides this whole Doc thing, what was your life like? Your normal life?”

Martyn’s expression flips into something unreadable for a second, then mellows again into neutrality. “Yeah, uh - nothing special, really. Born and raised in Nottingham, did alright at school, got the grades for uni but I ended up deferring. I was trying to get a job in my gap year but I didn’t really wanna end up behind the counter at GAME or McDonald’s or anything, and nowhere else ever got back to my applications, so… spent a lot of time at home, playing video games. No girlfriend, no mates who really stuck after college; not much worth writing home about. I wasn’t much of anything, really, not then.”

Oli is, he decides, going to ignore the implications of that comment. “Family?”

“Mum, dad, sister who’s been moved out for a few years. Dog. Oh, I hope he’s still alive, that’d suck if I never see my dog again.”

“Fingers crossed,” says Oli.

“What about you? What’s the home life of OrionSound like, when he’s not at the computer?”

“Oh, Marty, my entire life is at the computer,” he quips. “I work in software development. I actually did my degree in psychology, but you’d be surprised, there’s not a lot of room in the market unless you’ve done a load of other certifications as well. I guess I could have got a therapy licence, but as it turned out, I’d spent enough time in first year making terrible visual novels that by the time I got into the workforce I technically knew how to code. AI snapping at our heels now, of course, but it’s probably gonna eat itself by Christmas, so I’m not too worried about that.”

“I dunno,” says Martyn, “I’ve seen some pretty advanced AI.”

“So, yeah. I spent a few years freelancing, contracting for one place or another - I’m quick, which people seem to like, although that’s mostly so I can get back to gaming as soon as possible. And then… like two and a bit years ago? Yeah, would’ve been two years this past July… then I got a really nice position at CHESTCorp, it’s mostly remote work, I drive down to London every few months so they can “review my performance in a controlled environment”, whatever that means, and they pay well enough that I can afford this place on my own, which is -”

Oli stops talking when he notices Martyn’s face has gone white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I knew it,” Martyn murmurs.

“What?”

“I knew it,” he says again, stronger, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, I knew you - I thought - he told me this would happen, I’ve seen it happen, I should’ve just learned from my mistakes the fucking first time, but clearly I’m stupid.”

“Marty, what are you -”

“Didn’t wanna believe this shit could follow me out here, but evidently it - oh. Oh, no, no, you fucking - it’s not over, is it? I’m still - that’s why nobody picked up the phone, it wasn’t real, you couldn’t synthesise my mother’s voice, I’d know! You’re CHEST, of course you’re CHEST, the one person I thought - I mean, I hoped - you’re fucking cruel, is what this is, it’s cruel, and you’re not fooling me twice. Don’t know how you got the food this realistic, but -”

“Martyn,” Oli tries to interrupt, “are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Martyn says through gritted teeth. “You’ve given the game away now, CHEST agent. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. Should’ve known I couldn’t get out that easy. Or you caught up before I got out, one of you fuckers, planted something, or - I don’t know, made me think I was finally out of this stupid place. Made me think it was fine so I’d start giving up secrets. Well, you’re not getting another word out of me, you fucking idiot. Some interrogation room you’ve got here, huh? This your best simulation? Get a better model for your TV, I’ll tell you that for free, the reflection’s too smooth.”

Well. Er. “Martyn,” he tries again, “I think you might be having a flashback?”

“Nothing back about it, you bastard. Giving me false hope like that. Thank god I don’t actually know Doc’s name, or you’d have been able to track him too, wouldn’t you? Fuck you. Don’t ever bring my family into this again, any of you.”

“Okay,” Oli says slowly, rifling through his psychology knowledge for grounding techniques, “you think this isn’t real, right now?”

“I know it isn’t real,” Martyn spits, “and it’s getting worse the more I’m poking at it. See, look -” he stomps a foot at the floor “- you’re losing resolution trying to keep it running.”

The carpet, which has not changed and is certainly not lower resolution than it was when they got here, endures being scuffed at. Oli doesn’t want to actually lay a hand on Martyn right now, though; he’s got a bad feeling that’ll end in something much worse than being kicked. Instead he dips into the kitchen across the room, pops an ice cube out of the tray faster than he’s ever needed to, and brings it back over to the sofa. “Here,” he says, chucking it at Martyn’s lap, “that real enough for you?”

Martyn catches the projectile reflexively. He stills, silent, both hands cupped around the ice cube, staying in the air.

Then, gradually, his eyes unfocused… his arms lower.

He opens them and stares down at the piece of ice in his palm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, begins to rock forward.

The Domino’s tracker chimes again. Their food has finished cooking, and it’s being delivered by Amal. Oli almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Whatever Martyn’s running from, it must go a lot deeper than he thought.

(part five here)

[densitywell]

it feels weird to frame Ashton's current drive as wanting to be The Most Special and Chosen with this implication that he's being selfish or entitled with what he wants. Ashton, who can count the really good days in their life on their hands, who's been in constant pain for god knows how long. Ashton, a blank slate, deprived even of the meaning that comes from a history and identity. Ashton, deemed so worthless that even a group that called themselves the Nobodies abandoned him.

Ashton was not full and asking to feast; he was starving and asking to be fed. They weren't begging the gods to make them a champion and hand them a spell list, they just wanted someone to pick them up when they fell down for the first time in their life. instead, the gods (in any shape or form he could recognize) left him alone until the moment he become a problem for them.

of course he resents them. and of course he's grasping on to the first answers he's found, the first indication that he's ever mattered. it's fascinating to watch Ashton try to feel empowered by their world-altering burden instead of overwhelmed, and make decisions they'll think were fucking stupid in 20 episodes, and just overall try and tie his disparate parts together into one functioning whole, even if he's not really succeeding. especially if he's not really succeeding! we're not watching Ashton fly too close to the sun, asking for too much and getting burnt. we're watching them trying, clumsily and haphazardly, to pick up their broken pieces and create themselves anew.

[tornrose24]

I’ve been rewatching The Ghost and Molly McGee and have concluded watching season 1. These are my thoughts and observations:

-I love how Scratch slowly warms up to Molly across the season and it is easier to catch when you watch the episodes in order. From going to a complete jerk, to valuing her friendship, to caring about how she views him, to not wanting to lose her.

-I also love how this show’s art style is like a storybook come to life in every shot.

-It makes even more sense as to why Scratch haunts Adia’s old home. Todd’s soul gravitated to the one place in Brighton that held happy memories for him, where life had yet to turn him into an anxious, fearful adult. It was a safe space for him, and he was mad when a family managed to move in and invade it. Especially Molly specifically moving into his personal room/the safest spot in the house for him.

-Molly and Scratch are BOTH horrible liars. It’s funny how similar they are in that detail, and it’s even funnier if they call each other out on it.

-Scratch is an absolute asshole to a lot of people and enjoys seeing them suffer during this season, but I think that partly stems from a ‘I was/am miserable so I like seeing others suffer.’

-I’d say Molly’s worst episode is the Snow Day episode (not listening to what everyone else wants to do) and Scratch’s worst episode is the Internship episode (taking advantage of an intern to do basic, unhelpful tasks and being a bigger asshole than usual).

-Molly nearly dies 4 times (the machine during ‘Friend off,’ was willing to catch hypothermia in order to have fun in the snow, was almost hit by the truck, and was nearly sliced in half by Jinx).

-Scratch, Mr. ‘So afraid of dying that I never lived a day’…. Gets trampled by animals, eats poison berries, gets hit by a tour bus, gets blended by the machine from ‘Friend off,’ and is sliced in half by Jinx among all the possible things that WOULD have killed him in this season if he hadn’t been a ghost at the time.

-In ‘Very Hungry Ghost’ Scratch doesn’t get to eat any of the food intended for the ghosts. Because he wasn’t fully a ghost, that feast was not meant to be eaten by him.

-I admit I have yet to catch Scratch’s ‘nervous habit of scratching his arm’ during these episodes.

-There’s a recurring theme of the adult characters regaining their passion for something they once loved in a few episodes.

-However I also appreciate showing very realistic struggles, like financial concerns and how you can’t magically restore your community and town to its glory days without some effort put into it.

-Libby’s mom can be seen as an early cameo during ‘The (Un)natural.’ Of course, she would be there for her daughter ^_^

-I’m not a huge fan of the Christmas episode (never rewatched it until now) but GOD do I love the pink sky they use against the Christmas decorations and snow.

-In Pete’s news article in ‘Twin Trouble’, it mentions that other city planners mysteriously disappeared. However, I don’t think the show EVER addressed that, because such a story fascinated me and made me wonder if there was more to Brighton than meets the eye.

-There was a wasted opportunity in not discussing who or WHAT The Chairman was. Was this mystery meant for season 3?

-Scratch mentioning that he is dead throughout the show hits differently now that we know its quite the opposite. So does seeing him having to do mandatory things for the ghost world that he technically shouldn’t NEED to be doing at that moment.

-So does his interactions with Geoff. Oh boy.

-Was Scratch specifically assigned to scare Brighton? What about the other ghosts from there, like the Tugbottom siblings? Howlin Harriet? Sonia? Why don’t we see them doing their job as much as Scratch has to?

-The sheer irony of Scratch believing that he didn’t have any fears in ‘Scaring is Caring’ only for fear to be the reason WHY he was a ghost to begin with. Once again, there’s a hell of a difference between ‘Scratch as a human being afraid of everything’ and ‘Scratch as a ghost being afraid of losing Molly and would do anything to save her.’

-No seriously, it gets to a point where Scratch risks his existence to save Molly in this season and in the next one-if he had been human, he would have been willing to die for her.

-‘All Night Plight’ is an episode I hadn’t rewatched until recently. And it hits a LOT differently this time around. Molly wanted to form a forever memory with Libby and Scratch by seeing that comet and she managed to win over Scratch who went above and beyond to ensure that was possible. While that memory is now somewhere hidden in Scratch’s mind as a living person, this episode likely was one of the events needed to push him into becoming someone who would take chances and embrace life upon coming back to life.

-Considering the number of times Molly almost dies, it would have been one thing if Scratch didn’t take it too well if he failed to save Molly. But if he learned that he was the one who had the chance to come back to life and not her? Yeah, that would have seriously wrecked his mental state.

-That moment when you realize that it was TWO souls hovering on the edge between life and death that changed everything in the Ghost World. Also I could be wrong, but I caught that Molly AND Scratch both have a brighter glow compared to most other ghosts in the Ghost World. Was this stealth foreshadowing, or just a coincidence?

-Scratch’s declaration that knowing Molly was the highlight of his afterlife. That moment when you realize Molly brought him joy after years of being miserable as both a ghost and as a human. This girl reached out to him and was able to get him to open up when no one else did. This girl who is showing him how to truly live once more. This girl who he openly declares to be his friend no matter what others will think.

-When I see Wraith!Molly hugging Libby and Scratch, I just wonder ‘WHY DOES MOLLY HAVE 3 ARMS?!’

-As good as this show is, a lot of folks who watch these Disney Channel shows are likely used to the more story-oriented shows. While the ‘slice of life’ style for TGAMM did pay off, the slow pace and length it took for the episodes to release likely worked against it and I could see why it didn’t attract more viewers at the time.

Stuff relating to Todd:

-Scratch possesses people a lot in this show, but especially in season 1. I’m reminded of someone who talked about the wraith theory on YouTube and he had this guess that Scratch might someday possess Todd and then realize something is different this time. I think that having Scratch use the possession trick so often was building up to that one moment in the last episode because it WAS a matter of time until he possessed Todd.

-As I said in a previous post, I caught Todd in the stands during The (Un)Natural, which was his ACTUAL debut episode. It was easy to miss the first time, but its a noticeable establishing character moment since he’s the only audience member who is visibly NOT happy despite that the team is winning.

-Molly stopping at Todd’s house during the song montage in the bandshell episode hits a lot differently now after the series finale. But then I laughed when she smacked him in the face with a flyer upon stopping by the house a second time in the same episode.

-We have confirmation that Scratch (as Todd) knew the mayor when they were kids and that is a tale I’m very curious about.

-I caught Todd in the audience during ‘Citizen McGee’ when the mayor bestows the honor of being mayor for a day to Molly. I admit a cynical side of me thinks that this is how he actually remembers her name in the last episode…. But at the same time he was so on auto-pilot during that time that he likely wouldn’t pay much attention or remember those events that well. (Plus, you can’t be expected to remember someone’s name once all the time). I refuse to believe that he remembered this event and that Scratch’s memories were what actually triggered the name.

-Todd’s actual lines are very limited (I don’t think he gets many in season 2 compared to this one). While Dana Snyder was voicing him, Snyder lowered his voice so much that it’s really hard to tell that he’s the one voicing Todd. I keep putting my ear to my computer to listen, but Todd barely sounds like Dana. I think they did this on purpose to avoid making it too obvious that Todd IS Scratch. (And that’s probably why he doesn’t talk as much in season 2…. Until the last episode of course).

-The Internship seems to double as foreshadowing, and not just because Todd appears or that his ‘junk’ held some very crucial clues. Molly believes that the pawnshop is where happy memories go to die while Weird Larry assures her that it’s where memories can be reborn into something new. So… is the pawnshop a metaphor for Scratch’s own depression causing his ‘death’ and how he’ll be resurrected into a happier person?

[dmercer91]

ebug’s sister, dm91

part one / part two 

pictures saved from pinterest !

blakefriarr_

liked by dawson1417, jesperbratt and 3,493 others

blakefriarr_: my brother’s an ebug (and i’m his personal taxi, so i get to make these); episode 2!

feast your eyes upon pretty country boy, approximately seven seconds after full body LAUNCHING himself into the glass where i was standing and then grinning at me like a GOON

followed by (oh) captain (my captain) nico hischier looking like he’s just witnessed something absolutely diabolical occur on the ice

and following THAT we have daws (again!) getting an empty netter and thinking, hey! what would it be like if i were a puck? he promptly had that question answered for him. amen.

view 401 comments..

jackhughes: when did this become the dawson mercer show

→ blakefriarr_: when i met dawson mercer??

jackhughes: i got no mentions in this one

→ blakefriarr_: fine. this just in!! captain nico hischier was not WITNESSING something diabolical. that was just alt cap jachary hughes skating by and creating a death cloud of axe phoenix

→ jackhughes: jachary?????????

→ blakefriarr_: that’s what you get for yelling at me in my own comment section 

username293832: honestly i think that’s just nico’s resting face at this point

username83232: is she a wag?

→ username1241212: no! she came with the emergency goaltender they keep in the crowd in case someone gets hurt. my guess is she’s just really talented at making a lasting impression 

nicohischier: there is something so wrong with you, like, fundamentally

→ blakefriarr_: yeah but in like a weirdly great, entertaining, fabulous and fascinating way, right?

→ nicohischier: i don’t want to agree with that but i also can’t lie

→ jj.friar31: @/nicohischier what have you DONE

→ blakefriarr_: @/jj.friar31 i’ve been insufferable since the admin first commented on my post don’t act like he’s confirmed anything new

→ jj.friar31: at least you can admit that you’re insufferable 

→ blakefriarr_: god it’s like i vacuumed up all of your personality and kept it for myself when we were fetuses you’re like a cold unsalted mcdonalds french fry

username49876: she’s so real for having mercer be the focus in every photo

dawson1417: i can confirm i was really wondering what it would be like to get hurdled around at lethal speeds for sixty whole minutes 

→ blakefriarr_: how was the free trial?

→ dawson1417: can’t say it was particularly enjoyable 

→ blakefriarr_: i enjoyed it 

→ dawson1417: you wound me

dawson1417: and don’t act like i didn’t make you laugh during warmups

→ blakefriarr_: goon is a good thing <3

→ dawson1417: yay :)

→ jj.friar31: 🤨🤨📸 

jj.friar31: do i need to print off the ten commandments and stick them on the fridge again?

→ blakefriarr_: that’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said get back to me when you sign an elc

→ jj.friar31: would being called to get on the bench count?

→ blakefriarr_: no.

jj.friar31: on a completely unrelated note, @/dawson1417 do you see me as a teammate?

→ dawson1417: @/blakefriarr_ what do i say to this 

→ blakefriarr_: say no you gorgeous, gorgeous individual 

jesperbratt: do you have a second account for more serious posts? asking for a friend (the friend is dawson)

→ dawson1417: why’d you have to do me like that i told you nvm 😭

→ jesperbratt: and miss this golden opportunity to embarrass you?

→ blakefriarr_: dawson you can’t blame him entirely you just liked my post from may of 2021

→ dawson1417: oh shit must've been some other dawson

→ blakefriarr_: you’re verified, honey

view more comments..

[damn-stark]

Chapter 6 City of stars

Chapter 6 of Moonlight

A/N- Cregan would've let her compete in the tourney

Warning- Swearing, ANGST, FLUFF, talks of blood, blades, suggested nfsw, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- Before 1x08

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW MONTHS BACK. WINTERFELL*

“…Have a marvelous name day my sweet, sweet girl. I can’t wait to see you again. I love you.

Your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

You smile after you finish rereading the letter your mother sent you without fault. She even managed to have it arrive in the morning, along with a present, and Aemond can’t even do that.

So much for a friend and betrothed. He sucks.

What if he’s seeing some other girl?!

Well two can play at that game.

“Princess!” Cregan calls just as you started thinking about him.

You look up from the letter and flash him a beaming grin. “Lord Stark,” you greet back and bow your head.

And as always he rolls his eyes at your formality since it’s just him—well him and the singer to the side of the Heart tree you sit against.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” Cregan asks as he slowly approaches you.

You lift the letter and wave it in the air. “Reading what my mother sent me. Again,” you share. “And listening to this singer.” You tilt your head and narrow your eyes on the Lord. “Care to join?” You ask in a sneaky way so the singer won’t find this interaction suspicious and snitch to the Queen for some coin.

Cregan smiles softly. “Who am I to deny a Princess on her name day.”

When he’s by you he throws his cloak back to sit beside you. “What does your mother say?” He asks.

You sigh and look down at the letter. “She just wished me a happy name day, and sent her love. And she sent me this pretty dress.” You put the letter down to stand up and show him the pretty soft purple silk dress that your mother sent.

Cregan looks you up and down, paying close attention to the cuts on the sides that exposed your ribs, and then letting his eyes linger on your chest as the dress has a deep v neckline before he lastly smirks up at you.

You grow flustered as you see how dilated his pupils grow, but you still spin around to show him how flowy the bottom of the dress is, and how the long sleeves that drape off your arms twirl around you.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” Cregan compliments as you fall back at his side.

You beam at him and then whisper. “Thank you, my love.”

Cregan leans towards your ear and sneaks a comment that catches your breath. “I can’t wait to rip it off you later.”

You turn your head and meet his gaze to counter with another flirty commit. “And I cannot wait to feel you inside me.”

Cregan glances at your lips and draws in a deep breath as he’s unable to kiss you here and now. “You drive me mad woman.” He sneers against your lips.

You shoot him a smirk and pull back cockily, but don’t leave him craving your touch, you slide your hand close to his and hook your pinky around his.

“I wish I could see her again,” you change the subject so the singer won’t grow suspious. “I miss her.”

Cregan sighs and pulls his pinky away from yours to instead interlace his fingers with yours. “You will soon enough. I promise. But now, darling princess, don’t grow glum. Celebrate that the gods have gifted you another year of life.”

You sniffle and turn to meet his grey eyes with a faint smile. Cregan sneaks a gentle caress on your cheek before he lets your hand go and stands up.

“Dance with me,” he says and offers you his hand. “You said you didn’t want a feast so you owe me this dance. Singer, sing a happier song to dance to.”

The corner of your lips tug to a grin whilst you grab his hand, and let him pull you up as the singer does as Cregan says.

“They’ll see,” you warn him as you slide your other hand to his shoulder, while he slides one hand to grab your waist.

“Let them,” Cregan brushes off your worry. “I’m merely dancing with my best friend on her name day. Is that so bad?”

You shrug as you let him move you to the beat. “I guess not, Lord Stark.”

Cregan snickers and rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he counters jokingly.

——

*NOW. KING’S LANDING*

It’s been a month since the last time you’ve kissed Aemond. A month. Not for lack of trying, he gives you kisses on the cheek, on the forehand, and his favorite place is your knuckles. It’s just everytime you think about kissing him, Cregan comes to mind and you feel like you’re betraying him, and it aches your heart.

But feeling that ache, that sense of betrayal also brings you anguish because of Aemond, he’s been so kind now that you’ve broken that tension. Even if of course his mother keeps getting in the way for some reason. She’s like tree sap, no matter how much you try to get it off it continues to stick, and when you think you got rid of all of it, it’s still there being an inconvenience.

It’s a miracle she isn’t here at the tourney holding Aemond’s hand.

But anyway, feeling guilty about Cregan only adds more guilt about Aemond. It’s all tearing your mind apart.

Maybe you should stop writing to Cregan; you’ve thought of it. It would make your attempts to stop thinking about him easier…but you can’t do that, he’s still your friend and…you still…love him—

But you want to be faithful to Aemond, you want to love him as much as you do Cregan. He deserves that.

So how do you let go of one to embrace the other?

Death by dragonfire would be a simple solution. Or a lance through your heart.

Maybe one of these fine knights competing can do it.

Too bad you can’t fucking compete. Thanks Queen Alicent and Aemond.

“…Today we celebrate in honor of Prince Aemond Targaryen engagement to Princess Y/N Velaryon!” Aegon announces, or rather reminds the crowd since he’s already tipsy off his wine, and the crowd cheers.

You look over at Aemond and offer him a smile before you wrap your hand around his. He then places his thumb over your hand to begin caressing your skin.

“Now, Princess, honor us by choosing the next challengers,” Aegon says and turns to look at you.

It’s such a pity that choosing is all you can do.

“All right,” you sigh and stand up to approach the balcony’s railing, getting a closer look of all the competing Knights lined up against the wall.

It’s hard to know which one is the best, you don’t know any of these knights that you see before you. You recognize the house sigils some carry on their shield, but that’s about it. So you have to base your choice off the horse and your own curiosity.

“Him,” you point to the Knight at the right end of the line with no sigil on his shield. “And him,” you point to the man in the middle with the house sigil of a small house from the Riverlands.

“Come forward and state your names,” the announcer instructs.

Both knights walk forward and the others disperse. While the knight from the Riverlands takes his helmet off and states his name you share a playful smirk with Aegon, before you look back show it to Aemond who remains sitting so stocily.

“And I am Ser Alyn of Hull,” the second Knight's name catches your immediate attention and makes you face him. That’s when you notice that he has silver-white hair as well just like yours, his skin is dark, and his eyes are darker.

“You come from Driftmark?” You ask curiously as you lean closer.

Ser Alyn grins and his smile doesn’t fail to intrigue you. He has a very nice smile. He’s actually quite good looking too.

“Yes,” Ser Alyn responds. “I'm merely a bastard with no importance albeit.”

You hum and smile softly. “We’ll see about that won’t we, Ser Alyn of Hull? Best fortunate to you.”

The bastard Knight lets his eyes linger on you before he puts his helmet back on and has his horse stride away, letting you return to your seat.

“5 dragons on the Riverlands knight,” Aegon whispers to you as sits back down in between you and Helaena who is forced to be here.

You then glance at him and pretend to scoff in horror. “I’m a Lady. I don’t bet.”

Aegon groans. “10 then.”

You roll your eyes ahead and watch Ser Alyn. “That’s better. 10 on Ser Alyn.” You twist your wrist to spread your palm out.

And without looking Aegon smacks it lightly to commit to the bet. You then smile softly, and as both Knights start you lean towards Aemond.

“Who do you think will win?” You ask as you wrap your hands around his bicep; which is much easier to grab than Cregan’s.

Cregan has a lot of muscle…

“Hm,” Aemond hums, and you feel his gaze on you as you focus on the jousting—“I don’t follow much jousting,” he says.

You roll your eyes over to him and press him sweetly. “Indulge me, Aemond, please.”

Aemond holds your gaze and exhales deeply before he drifts his attention to the match. “I suppose…Ser Alyn. He has the strength advantage.”

You hum and follow his line of gaze, seeing at that moment Ser Alyn throw the other Knight off his horse after breaking his shield in half.

Which is why you jump up to your feet and clap for Ser Alyn along with the clamoring crowd. Right away the knight faces you and bows, making you grin.

His reign ends soon though and the others are brought forward to compete. And even if you couldn’t join; even if you aren’t actually good, you pay attention to all the matches and become 100 golden dragon coins richer because Aegon sucks at betting. All while Aemond’s hand basks you with warmth the entire time. You whisper to one another like a newlywed couple—well he just listened to you most of the time, but regardless, it’s like now that you can show affection to each other you actually take advantage of the opportunity. Even if the advantage is small.

Plus Cregan doesn’t come to mind this time.

“Would you compete in my honor?” You whisper to Aemond as the last pair of jousters approach. “I would like you more if you did.”

Aemond blinks and meets your gaze, making your smirk deepen. He sighs as the corner of his lips twitch to a smile. “If you ask it of me I would,” he reveals, making your heart skip a beat. “And I would make sure to win every single match. I’d kill if I had to.”

Oh, that’s a little intense but you do love it. It…causes you to grow flustered and warm to the point all you can do is smile before you press a kiss on his cheek.

Aemond’s smile softens very faintly, and he raises your hand to bring your knuckles to his lips so he can press a gentle kiss on them.

“I would like to ask the favor of The Realm’s Golden Girl, Princess Y/N Velaryon.”

You turn your attention to the match and notice that it’s the Knight that calls himself the Stranger, because he has no house sigil on his shield either. And from what you’ve seen he’s not so terrible, he’s made it to the last round of competitors.

“Unmask yourself in presence of the princess, Ser,” the announcer orders as you approach the railing with a flower crown in hand.

When the knight unmasks himself you freeze and gasp as you recognize Ser Rolf; your mutual friend with Cregan.

But he didn't tell you he was coming like you asked him to.

“Ser Rolf,” you announce before he can. “What a pleasure.” You slowly grin at him.

“The pleasure is mine, Princess,” he says with formality you don’t recognize.

“Good luck, my friend,” you end this short since there’s only so much you can say. But you let your gaze last on his face as you throw the flower crown on his lance.

Rolf shoots you a kind smile before he bows his head and walks off. And in the surprise of seeing your friend, you didn't even notice he was jousting against Ser Alyn until you spotted him putting on his helmet. Albeit now that he’s competing against your friend you don’t care if he’s from Driftmark anymore, you want Ser Rolf to win.

“You know him?” Aemond asks the moment you take your seat.

Without looking at him you nod. “He’s a friend from Winterfell,” you say.

You can feel Aemond’s gaze on you, it lingers, but you don’t bother paying attention, you clutch onto his hand and watch as both Knights charge at each other. Ser Alyn goes in for a jab at the shield, but Ser Rolf manages to swerve and instead hit the side of Ser Alyn’s shield so hard that it falls from his hands

You smile softly, but you’re too overwhelmed with worry that your smile quickly fades and your grip around Aemond’s arm tightens.

Is that who sent you that note he wonders? That funny looking ginger commoner? You seem so worried that it has to be.

He’ll ask you later and hopefully get the truth, as of now he watches you as you sit up straighter and lean forward as they go again.

You almost close your eyes as they approach each other again, but you manage to keep them open and watch as Ser Alyn goes for the shoulder, but Ser Rolf ducks and hits the horse's legs, causing the horse to lose balance and knock Ser Alyn off. With that the winner of the tournament is picked, Ser Rolf!

You squeal, and quickly stand up from your seat to clap loudly to his success. Not caring if you get weird stares from the rest of the audience in the box with you, and especially not caring the look Aemond shoots you. You get swept up by your friends' success, by the crowd roaring with excitement. Ser Rolf also makes sure to turn and face you to shoot you a wink.

You beam at him and exclaim. “Whoa! Ser Rolf!”

The Northerner Knight is swept off his feet and given his winnings, he gets flowers thrown at him from the crowd. And as all the winners do, he’s given the honor to name one Lady the Queen of Love and Beauty; he’s given a flower crown to give to a Lady of his choosing, but he refuses and instead his helper for the day runs to him with a satchel.

The crowd goes quiet, and you slowly sit back down to watch with your neck stretched out and your lips slightly parted.

“I’ve brought a special one,” Ser Rolf says and proceeds to pull out a beautiful flower crown made of rare Blue Winter Roses, that are only grown in the North. He then follows by approaching the box and stops directly before you.

“I choose Princess Y/N Velaryon,” he announces, causing the crowd to boom excitedly, and for you to approach the edge to take the beautiful flower crown from his hand.

“Thank you, my friend,” you tell him with a soft smile and a watery gaze since you know what this means. They’re from Cregan. Rolf wouldn't go out of his way to bring a crown of his own if it wasn’t because of his friend Cregan.

But why? Why now? It was a small moment, but you were doing good, you weren’t thinking about him, about his lips, above his love and kisses. Now he’s all you can think about. That and your guilt.

Why did he have to send you this flower crown made from the flower that has a deep meaning in your relationship? Not only that but hidden around one of the stems is a note you can’t dare read now. It’s like he wants you to go mad with a confusion that shouldn't even exist because fate is made.

“Are you all right?” The sound of Aemond’s voice right by your ear startles you.

You quickly place the flower crown on your head and turn to face him now standing behind you. “Yes, just touched. Blue winter roses are the most beautiful flowers in the seven kingdoms, so I’m flattered.”

Aemond tries to read you, but you smile at him and hook your arm around his. “Why don’t we head home now?” You suggest. “I know how much these social outings exhaust you.” You tease him.

Aemond scoffs lightheartedly, but he lets you lead him away. Albeit you’re quickly stopped by Aegon before you can step out of the box.

“Where are you two going? There’s a feast now! Let’s go!”

He’s incredibly drunk.

“Well I'm quite exhausted,” you lie. “But you go.”

Aegon gasps and then turns to look at his brother by you. “Come on brother! Let me show you some fun before you’re married!”

You slide your eyes to Aemond, and he glances at you before addressing Aegon. “I want to walk her home. You go.” He says.

“Boo!” Aegon exclaims and stumbles towards you and Aemond. “Come on! Just for a bit.”

You exhale and roll your eyes, but Aemond lets you go and steps towards his brother. “Go, walk with Helaena. I’ll walk Aegon to the feast.”

You part your lips to argue, but he wouldn’t listen so it would be like arguing to a wall. “Fine,” you grumble. “Have fun.”

Before you can turn, Aemond adds one more thing. “Meet me at the gardens when you arrive. I’ll meet you there.”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smile and you nod in comprehension before Helaena and you leave.

Albeit when you arrive you wait where he asked, but he never comes.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

“Congratulations my darling love. I know you’ll be a beautiful bride. - Cregan”

You weren’t going to read the hidden note, you decided it wasn’t the best option for your already battling mind. But Aemond left you stranded so you did it.

However, now that you’ve read it maybe it was a mistake after all. Because why would he say that?

Maybe you’re just overthinking it, it’s just a harmless comment—but to you it means everything, it brings him back to the front of your mind. Those simple words make you doubt your marriage to Aemond, especially because he failed to do as he said and for what? Another woman? A feast?

You want to be Cregan’s wife, you want to get married under the red leaves of the Weirwood tree, before the old gods. Because at least with Cregan you know you won’t be miserable, he’ll love only you, and Aemond?

He said he loved you only after you asked him to say it. He stands you up without an explanation. With Aemond there’s no security, no way to know if you’ll avoid living in what you fear; misery.

But then again the not knowing excites you with Aemond, he excites you. Being loved in public without having to hide from the world fills you with joy. And yes it wasn’t Cregan's fault you had to hide, but you did and now having Aemond do the opposite excites you.

IT'S ALL SO CONFUSING!!

You sigh and throw the note in the fire, you watch the fire eat it away with tears rolling down your cheeks. When it’s nothing but ash you turn and shrug your robe off your body to walk to the steaming bath.

“It’s too hot Princess,” Vanessa warns and rushes over to try and stop you, but you step in the heated water and don’t pay any mind to how hot it is. The heat has just never bothered you, no matter how hot it is.

“It’s okay,” you brush off her concern and sink your body into the water until the point the water floats around your neck. “Bring me some wine.”

Vanessa hesitates, but she then does as she’s told, letting you add on.

“And maybe just dunk my head in the water and don’t pull me out until I stop moving,” you deadpan and wipe away the stain of tears with the hot water.

Vanessa lets out a nervous laugh. “That’s very funny.”

That was a very serious request.

A knock raps on the door stealing Vanessa’s attention just before she can bring the wine.

You try to peek at who it was, but you can’t see from the tub, and when you try to hear, the visitor is too quiet. So you wait until Vanessa walks to you with a flagon and a cup of wine.

“Who is it?” You ask her.

The corner of her lips tug to a smirk and she whispers in your ear as she sets the things down on the table beside you. “Prince Aemond.”

Here comes the pity apology.

“Let him in,” you tell her without caring that he’d see you nude in the tub. Hey, maybe he can join you.

So as Vanessa walks off to let Aemond in you grab your goblet and begin to chug the damn thing, only knowing Aemond’s inside by the sound of his heels clicking on the floor. He also then lets out a soft groan and shifts, letting you know he was now nearby.

“You could’ve told me to return,” Aemond mutters.

You set the goblet down and glance over at him, seeing he has his back turned to avoid seeing you indecent before marriage. What a gentleman.

“You could have the decency to at least change after being with someone else,” you say bluntly as you begin to serve yourself more wine. “Or you know at least come visit me the next day.”

Yes you don’t have the right to be jealous, but he is your betrothed, he is your future husband, he’s yours not theirs.

“I could say something similar about your friend from the tournament,” Aemond counters back quickly and sneaks a glance at you from the corner of his eye.

You snap your gaze over to him and slowly put the goblet down before you begin laughing at his comment. “Rolf?” You say and shake your head. “No. He’s just a friend. When Lord Cregan tried to take his throne from his uncle Ser Rolf became my protector.” You smile softly at the thought of your friend, and then lean on the side of the tub to watch Aemond with a playful smile as the thought of him being jealous makes you cocky, but also makes your heart flutter.

“Look at me,” you demand softly.

Aemond just peers over his shoulder and you see how hard he avoids actually looking at the rest of you.

“Aemond,” you keep trying. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Aemond exhales deeply before he slowly turns and meets your gaze with the eyepatch still over his sapphire eye.

“Take it off,” you refer to the eyepatch.

His gaze lowers and he slowly pulls the leather eyepatch off and places it on the table with your wine. As the gem gleams with the firelight’s touch you smile softly at him. “Now come here,” you continue to order. “Please.”

Aemond hesitates, but he slowly approaches you, making sure to avoid looking at your body and only holding your gaze. When he crouches beside you, you take his hand to play with his long fingers.

“Ser Rolf if just a friend,” you assure him, knowing well he’s not the one he should worry about. “He’s married to some workers daughter and is expecting a little babe.” You smile softly and rest your chin on his hand. “Or what? I can’t have friends?”

Aemond’s gaze falls to your body under the water, making you smirk. Before he meets your gaze again he clears his throat and shakes his head. “I’d rather you not.” He rebuttals.

You chuckle and roll your eyes as you push yourself away from him. “I’ll still have them.” You counter.

Aemond sighs. “I know. You were always one to defy what was expected of you.”

You begin to twirl the water around with your finger and snicker. “It’s always been fun. It’s boring being so…uptight and such a stickler for rules. You’ve never liked that. So what?” You chuckle. “You don’t like me?”

You pout and feign to be sad while you make sure to fiddle with the ring he gifted you.

Aemond swallows thickly and parts his lips, but doesn’t move at all to answer, so you continue to mess with him. “Or,” you whisper softly. “Does that excite you about me?” You smile sweetly and tease him more as his gaze wonders on your body. “What?” You tease him and twist around to give him a better view of your chest. “Do you want to join me?”

Aemond draws in a deep breath and gets ready to answer, but you cut him off sharply. “Tell me who you were with and I’ll consider it. She better be a beautiful creature.”

Now Aemond is the one that chuckles, making your heart throb; you’ve always liked the sound of his laugh.

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he contradicts you. “Trust me. No one has ever compared to you. No one in this world ever will.”

Your face burns, and you now long for him, desire his lips on yours.

“I was taking care of Aegon,” Aemond continues. “He was drunk already, I couldn’t let him go to the feast without knowing he was fine.”

You hum softly, and now you don’t even dare doubt him because you know he’s being honest. You’ve also known that he’s always been so worried about the others instead of just being worried about himself. He isn’t the youngest from his siblings, his brother Daeron holds that title, but Aemond isn’t the eldest, he shouldn't be the one worried.

“Oh Aemond,” you whisper and push yourself to his side again to cup his cheek. “You’re always so worried about your family, but who worries about you?”

Aemond blinks in disbelief and parts his lips as a soft breath escapes his lips. You proceed to caress his face and offer him a soft smile and a loving look.

“I can take care of you,” you whisper against his lips.

Aemond’s eye softens, and you begin to kiss him slowly on his lips, he then cradles your face and begins to caress your cheeks as he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back. He actually deepens the kiss, making sure not to let you pull away for too long, he leans in closer as if you were going to get away. He only pulls back to murmur.

“I love you. More than anything.”

You offer him a soft smile, but you can’t repeat those words to him. Not with your heart still attached to Cregan. “Me too,” you assure him softly. “More than anything.”

Aemond doesn’t ask for more, he smiles and begins kissing you again. And this time without having to be told he begins to undress himself, you help desperately, but he soon manages to steal your breath away as you see him for the first time, so toned and beautiful.

His muscles aren’t as large as Cregan’s, but Aemond still had so much detail in his muscles, his back was the most impressive, it looked so soft, so strong. The way his long silver hair drapes over it so elegantly makes him even more beautiful. He’s so beautiful. Every part about him.

It’s why you let him take you there in the bathtub without waiting until you were married. He was so gentle and caring, rough but you didn’t care you indulged it.

Even when you were finished he didn’t turn cold, he didn’t leave, he stayed with you and let you take care of him…

Just as—No you won’t say it, you can’t compare them.

Aemond lay between your legs, and rests his head on your chest, letting you braid his hair.

“So,” you whisper playfully. “You'd kill for me?”

Aemond begins caressing your knee with his fingers and nods softly. “Who wouldn’t?”

You smile softly as you rest his braid over his shoulder. “I’d kill for you too, you know. I would have before, 5 years ago.”

Aemond freezes, so you wrap your arms around his neck and lean on his shoulder.

“I’m good with a sword,” you show off and see him meet your gaze from the corner of his eye.

The corner of his lips pull to a smirk before he retorts. “Why is that? Because of all the time you spent watching from the shadows.”

You grin and nod. “Exactly. I just dont show it because i have to keep up appearances, you know I’m a Princess. Daughter of the heir, and granddaughter of a King. I can’t bounce around the castle like some penniless explorer…or so my Septa would say.” You scoff.

Aemond hums and then twists his body around to face you with a serious expression. “Is that why you don’t fight for your right on the throne?”

You blink in surprise and question him with a nervous chuckle. “What?”

Aemond sighs. “You are the eldest. Daughter of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen. You are the heir, not…your brother.”

Why this sudden topic? You stopped thinking about that ever since you met Cregan.

“You’re being robbed right under you and you don’t try to fight it,” Aemond adds with a rising anger you don’t even feel. “Why is that?”

You part your lips but nothing comes out but a huff of air as you’re left flabbergasted by this topic.

“Because you’re keeping up appearances. I know you’re no fool, even if you act it in front of others,” Aemond continues to say as he turns around completely to take your hands and hold your narrowed gaze.

You shake your head and finally find words to share. “I don’t fight it because it was chosen that way. My grandsire Corly’s wanted Jacaerys to be heir, and my mother didn’t want to burden me with what she was burdened with…” you pause and shrug. “I cared, but that’s past me now. I don’t want it.” You swallow thickly and lean forward.

“I’ve seen a fraction of what happens to families who fight for their right,” you add softly. “Lord Cregan fought his uncle because he didn’t want to give Cregan what was rightfully his. It breaks families apart, it’s chaos.” You scoff. “I don’t want that. I love my family, I'm content with Jacaerys being heir.”

Aemond’s eyebrows furrow and he snaps back. “But he's a…” he trails off and presses his lips together.

But he doesn’t need to finish his sentence to know what he was going to say; bastard. He was going to call Jacaerys a bastard. It upsets you, but there’s no need arguing over something he didn’t finish saying, over something that only adds fuel to that fire.

So you just exhale and pull your hands away from Aemond’s. “Let’s not speak on this matter anymore,” you mutter and hold his gaze with a pointed glare. “If you love me you’ll be content with my choice. Respect it, please.”

Aemond holds your gaze and doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t move, he just exhales deeply before he nods stiffly and turns around to stay between your legs.

The fact that he was going to call Jacaerys a bastard annoyed you, it still threatens to piss you off even if you say you’re over it for the sake of peace, adding tension between Aemond and you.

It was going so good too for Seven’s sake.

But no! You can’t let it affect you. Don’t let the storm ravel. Don’t let it.

“You know what I was thinking?” You bring up to avoid having a storm within you ravel you in its clutches.

Aemond hums.

You lean your lips by his ear and whisper. “We should get married the day after tomorrow. Not under the faith of the seven, but a Valyrian wedding. Something small.”

That and well you do want to spite Alicent. She said no to your request for 6 months, and she thinks she has the upper hand over Aemond. You’ll prove her wrong.

Aemond’s shoulders fall and he argues, but without much energy, like if he actually agrees. “What about my mother? She’s been planning our wedding.”

You nod softly. “Yes, but it’s all stuff we can cancel, she won’t mind. Besides it’s our duty as Valyrian’s, we aren’t just any normal person. We’re Targaryens with the blood of old Valyria running through our veins.”

Aemond looks back at you and adds on more concern. “And what about your family? Don’t you want them to be here?”

You shrug. “It would be ideal, but they won’t mind. Besides, it will just be small and quick. No feast, no dinners before the day, just us and the one marrying us.”

Aemond studies you closely and continues to question you. “I won’t miss a feast, but will you? You won’t wear your dress, and you like to steal the attention.”

You giggle and shrug. “I’ll still have a pretty dress under the robe. And the only attention I want is yours. Perhaps if our families got along well then I wouldn’t mind a big feast, but I don’t want problems. Just us. Helaena can be our witness, along with Vhagar and Astraea.” You shoot him a smirk.

Without thinking more about it Aemond nods. “All right,” he gives in.

You flash him a beaming grin and throw your hands around him to lean in and press kisses on his cheek. “<I love you,>” you say in High Valyrian because right now it doesn’t hold the same meaning as when you say it in the common tongue.

Aemond doesn't know that, he thinks you’re being sincere and smiles softly. And that smile, that simple gesture does push you to feeling more than just affection and desire, it pushes you closer to feeling actual love.

“<I love you too,>” Aemond says back in High Valyrian. “<More than anything. I’ll talk to my mother.>”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Aemond peers back with a smirk. “Anything else?”

You lift your head and nod. “Actually yes.” You exhale deeply and begin to frown with sadness. “What if we leave for Dragonstone. Live our lives there.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you anticipate what he’s going to say.

“I can’t…leave my mother with my father being so sick,” he says, making you let out a shaky sigh.

It’s understandable truly, you want to be with your grandfather when any day can be his last. But the quicker you’re out of here, the quicker you’re out of the judgmental watch of the Queen and her court. Besides, you want to reunite with your mother, but no. You can’t leave.

“After then?” You insist and bat your eyelashes.

Aemond exhales and watches you for a moment before he surprises you by nodding in agreement. “Your mother gave you Dragonstone to inherit,” he says. “Perhaps out of pity or just genuine love, it doesn’t matter, but you are the princess of Dragonstone. It will be ours to rule. It’s our right. Besides, your mother will come here, the rest of your family will follow, so it will be ours to take.”

You begin to smile slowly out of disbelief because honestly you didn’t think he’d want to. Even if it was decided you would rule over Dragonstone before.

“Okay,” you nod. “Good.” You grin and whisper one more time. “Good.”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“Nervous?” Aemond asks as you reach the door to his fathers chambers because you suggested talking to the both of them. Mostly because if your grandfather was able to pay more attention today, he’d agree and have his word would overpower Alicent’s.

“No,” you admit the truth. “I’m ready.”

Aemond nods and raps his fist on the door and then waits. But you only wait for a few seconds because he then opens the door and walks you in with him.

As always the room smelled of different medicinal incense, besides the soft clicking heels that approach, there’s silence.

“Aemond,” Alicent calls out before she steps past the sheer curtains that block the sight of your grandfather. “Y/N.”

You offer her a strained smile and do a small curtsy. “Your Grace,” you greet her. When you straighten up you share a passing glance with Aemond before he gets to the point.

“As I mentioned before we’ve come here to talk to you and father.”

“Is he awake?” You interject and try to sneak a glance past the sheer curtains.

Alicent’s gaze lingers on Aemond for a second longer with a tight lip before she blinks and nods. “He is, come.”

You hesitate where you stand and look up at Aemond to share a sweet smile. He mirrors it and leans down to press a kiss on your forehead before he grabs one of your braids and fiddles with the golden cuff that decorates it. You don’t say anything to each other, you just hold each other's gazes and share a loving look before you walk after Alicent hand in hand.

“Your son Aemond, and your granddaughter have come to visit you, my love,” Alicent lets your grandfather know close to his ear so he’d hear. “They’ve come to speak to us.”

Your grandfather drags his gaze to the both of you and lingers on your figures for a moment in silence, before he solely focuses on Aemond and mutters, “Aemond?”

You swallow thickly and flicker your gaze away as Alicent nods and reassures him. “Yes, your son.”

You peer over at Aemond and watch him swallow thickly whilst he shuffles back away from the bedside. He watches his father with his eye wide from slight disbelief and a mix of pity. So you tighten your hold around his hand and then sit down at your grandfather's bedside.

“Grandsire,” you input yourself hoping he’d recognize you better. “It’s me y/n, and Aemond.” You offer him a gentle smile and let go of Aemond’s hand to grab your grandfather's clammy one.

Said man albeit takes a moment before he parts his lips. “Ah, yes. Have you come to read to me today?”

You smile wider and shake your head. “Not today. That’s for tomorrow.” You let out a deep breath and glance once at Alicent before focusing on the man before you and continuing with what you want. “We’ve come to ask something from both you and Queen Alicent….Aemond and I wish to marry tomorrow in a Valyrian style wedding.”

“What?” Alicent gasps softly and steps towards her son. “But the wedding is a month away. Surely you can wait. Everything is almost prepared.”

You blink and then proceed to look up at Alicent with a feigned smile. Just as you were going to argue Aemond interjects for the both of you. “We don’t wish to have feasts or a grand crowd of strangers watching, it’s you and the court who wants that, not us. We want something intimate, something that follows our Valyrian traditions not that of strangers.”

Alicent’s face begins to twist in disbelief to her son's defiance to her wishes, to what had been expected of him. She then slides her eyes to you and her gaze narrows in a manner you can’t read what she expresses, annoyance? Disbelief? Anger?

Whatever it was the Queen saw you now, in your light pink gown with the dazzling golden dragon decorating your waist. You smirk at her, and as you hold her gaze with a burning innocent gaze that burns as hot as the dragon's flame from your Targaryen family sigil, she knows that you aren’t hers to control.

You know that she knows that you aren’t at all aloof like you present yourself to be. Yet she can’t find out your angle, that you do hide well.

“What of your mother?” Alicent asks you. “Don’t you wish her to be in attendance?”

You hum softly and shrug. “She’ll understand. Now,” you cut her off and look at your grandfather again. “May we wed tomorrow? We don’t want to wait a moment longer.” You grin and look back at Aemond to grab his hand and share your delight with him. And he meets your gaze and offers you a faint smile, leaving his mother bewildered just a bit.

“Well,” your grandfather says hoarsely and looks between Aemond and you carefully. His gaze then seems to get lost past your head as if lost in thought, but you don’t press him, you wait as the other two do too.

“What’s the harm in it?” Your grandfather assures Aemond and you. “We have to uphold our Valyrian traditions before they fade away.”

You nod and then press a kiss on his knuckles. “Thank you, grandsire.” You rest his hand back on his chest, and then get up to press your hands against Aemond’s chest before you slide them to grab his biceps as you shoot him an excited grin.

Aemond holds your arms and looks at you with an enamored gaze that catches Alicent by complete surprise. Afterall she did not expect her son to be so taken away by you, her only plan was to try and turn you against your mother, but now with this twist perhaps this match was a bad idea.

——

“One flesh,” Aemond mutters to you and you mirror his words as you hold each other's gazes with faint smiles decorating both of your faces. “One heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The wedding isn’t extravagant, it’s small but filled with Valyrian traditions down from the small set up that holds what you need for today and filled with many melting candles. And up to the stuff you wear; the tan robes with red dyed edges to signify the blood, and the marvelous headgear you wear on your head.

The wedding isn’t watched by a crowd of people, of strangers. Your mother isn’t here nor are your brothers since the wedding was so sudden, but your dragon Astraea is, along with Vhagar. Helaena watches as well, the only witness you wanted, but Alicent came along too and dragged Aegon with her.

The wedding is taking place on a green cliff that overlooks the sea, at dusk to watch as the flaming horizon slowly gets invaded by the glimmering stars in the dark sky you admire so much. So it feels like your mother is here too since you share the same enormous sky, so it feels like your father watches too from whatever heaven he may find himself to be.

The wedding is beyond perfect, and today, right now as you stand before Aemond holding his gaze, watching the blue sapphire in his eye socket glimmer, you feel it. You feel genuine, true love for Aemond. The love you hold for Cregan will never fade, it’s still very much alive, but today Aemond is all you can think about.

Not even the pain registers as he cuts your bottom lip with a sharp dragonglass blade. You just think about how he’s making your heart swoon, how happy you feel now as he gently daps his thumb on your bleeding lip to collect a blood drop, and then use that to paint a Valyrian fire glyph on your forehead.

You offer him an awestruck smile, and grab the dragonglass blade from his hand to cut his bottom lip too. “Sorry,” you whisper since you knew it hurt.

Aemond offers you a gentle smile as he wipes the blood that pokes out of your bottom lip with his thumb, and shakes his head to assure you it’s fine. So you proceed to dab some blood on your thumb to paint the Valyrian blood glyph on his forehead.

“<Now,” the Septon says in High Valyrian. “Cut your palms to let your blood mix together and unify as one.>”

Since you have the dragonglass blade already you use it to cut a straight line down your palm first. When you hand Aemond the blade he does the same, letting you hold each other's hands and do as the Septon said, mix your blood to unify as one. One flesh.

The blood drips in a goblet and when the bleeding slows the septon grabs the goblet and hands it to Aemond first so he can take a drink as he speaks gently. “<Blood of two, joined as one.>”

Aemond hands you the goblet and you take a drink of the blood, finding it bitter the moment it touches your tongue.

“<Ghostly flame and song of shadows,” the Septon continues to say. “Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires.>”

After you put the cup down you cup Aemond’s cheek and caress his scar under his eye, whilst he cups your other cheek and caresses the scar on your cheek. You smile at each other, watch each other lovingly as if no one else surrounds you. You share one heart.

“<A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.>” The septon finishes saying, letting you both proceed to utter the same vow as before, but in High Valyrian this time.

“<One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.>”

Aemond offers you a soft smile as he glances at your lips. You glance at his before you lean in and join as one.

When you pull apart it’s only so you can tell him one thing. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips, making him smile wider. “Now and forever.” And you mean it this time, genuinely mean it from the bottom of your racing heart.

“I love you,” Aemond says while he strokes your bottom lip. “Now and forever.”

You beam at him and then pull him in a deep passionate kiss this time that continues to mix the blood on your lips.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Y/N & Daemon making the Hightower’s life a living hell 🫱🏽‍🫲🏻 also considering how Aemond’s side of the family is, hearing y/n say I love you was probably the first time he heard it :(:

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton

[bohemian-nights]

Arlī(Anew)Chapter 8

Word Count: ~11,260

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; violence; blood; smut

Description: The realm would descend into madness if Rhaenyra was crowned and placed upon the Iron Throne. Not even men declared their bastards as trueborns. Let alone did they dare to make one king.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 9

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131 AC- King’s Landing

Life is not without its seasons. There is a time for peace, love, famine, and war. Sickness, heartbreak, hope, and prosperity. Destinies play out until they reach their natural conclusion. Death. In the end, we can not escape our fate, try as we might. Life does not last forever. It is not a permanent condition. The stranger comes for us all in the end. Death waits for no man, not even a king.

The Stranger had visited so very many times in Naerys life. An old friend he had become. A vulture circling its prey. A shadow creeping in the dark. From each of her parents to Laena, Laenor, and Ser Vaemond. It had taken them all. A God's work is never done. As long as there is life, the Stranger will make his appearance known soon enough.

The story of life, however, is not death. It is not even its final act. Death is not the end. It is a reminder of the impermanent nature of life, but not the end. Nothing ever stays the same, but life always finds its way to begin anew.

Death pays for life in many ways. Change is inevitable. Empires rise and fall. The sunrises and the sunsets. Rivers wither and dry up, and snows cover what once was a meadow bed, but life goes on even after death. The cycle continues. Ever repeating. Life waits for no man. Change waits for no one.

Daemon had woken Naerys up the morning after Ser Vaemond’s petition teetering on the edge of pure rapture. They had not left for Dragonstone the previous night. It was too late and their emotions ran high. Naerys had insisted that they stay and leave when the sun rose. Rhaenyra was not a threat to her. There was not much more she could do or say to them. They knew the games she played. Her well had run dry. Her luck ran out.

In her grief, Naerys had wanted her husband to alleviate her pain. Wanting to be oblivious to the world around them for just a night at least. The events of the day had left her spent. Her husband had been all too happy to oblige. Comforting her in his arms. She lost her sorrow there. “Ivestragī aōha kepus gūrogon care hen ao issa dōna riña.” Let your uncle take care of you, my sweet girl.

Daemon had taken her twice that night. The first with her riding him. She had exhausted herself bouncing upon her husband until he had to take over. Laying down upon his warm chest as he fucked up into her. The second time she woke up in tears in the middle of the night. A few soothing words whispered into her temple and strokes down her bare back and she was under him once more.

Rocking her into their bed and tearing her apart leaving them both a heady mess, His cock remained inside of her thereafter. She wrapped herself around him to keep him from leaving, not that he would ever want to do such a thing. His presence anchors her. Naerys hated the feeling of being apart from him. Wanting to cling to him even in her sleep.

Her husband must have pulled out from within her some time ago because she awoke on her back in a heady state of arousal. Drifting in and out on the edge of blissful consciousness. She came to the land of the living to a warm tongue lapping up cream overflowing from her sweet little cunt. Bringing her to her first orgasm of the day. Her uncle had always had a healthy appetite.

The sounds of his feasting on her wetness filled their guest quarters. Naerys buried her hands in her husband's silver strands while he toyed with her small bud at the apex of her vulva, replacing it with his mouth as he pushed two fingers inside her sopping heat. Finding their sensitive target with years of practice, leaving her curling into herself on the cusp of her second peak that morning.

Naerys' body began to quiver before Daemon pulled his mouth from her. Staring up at her from between her thighs. The black of his pupils overtook the violet of his iris as he flitted his gaze at where his fingers were assaulting his niece-wife’s glistening center. A welcoming sight to see if there ever was one. “Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos. Ñuha precious rūs. Māzigon syt issa byka mēre.” That is my good little girl. My precious baby. Come for me, little one.

Her uncle wasted no time bringing back down his mouth to latch his lips upon her puffy little button. Which resulted in her writhing upon their bed. Pleasure overtook Naerys' body. Radiating out from her spasming cunt soaking her husband's digits and the sheets underneath them.

“Muña.” Mother. Daenys light voice and a small knock came through the oak doors of their guest bed chamber. In her hazy state, Naerys thought she had been hallucinating, but then their daughter called for her again. A little more hurried than the first try. “Muña.” Naerys went to push her uncle away, but he pinned her arms down. Placing them at her sides while he let up his feasting with a small groan of annoyance.

“Aōha muñnykeā iksos lodaor engaged paktot sir byka zaldrīzes.” Your mother is otherwise engaged right now, little dragon. She tried with no use to break free of her husband's hold, but Daemon rested his head upon her thigh with a breathless chortle at her attempt. Placing a light slap on the meat of her flesh. Enjoying the sight of the jiggle.

The Rogue Prince did not stop his finger's ministrations from within her, continuing to gently circle her engorged clit with the rough pad of his thumb. Keeping her on the edge of another peak. Naerys had to turn her head into their bed to muffle her moans though the sounds from her dripping cunt were not so easy to ignore. “Māzigon arlī isse nykeā hour. Ao kostagon jenigon pār.” Come back in an hour. You can bother her then. Her husband went back to his first meal of the day. Hoping that would be the last of the interruptions, but their daughter was persistent.

“Ziry kostagon daor umbagon kepa.” It can not wait father. She called out again. This time Daemon did not stop her when she pushed him away. Letting out a huff of irritation that matched her own displeasure at her ruined climax. He climbed up her body and bent down so that she may taste herself before she rose from their bed. Heading to her dressing chambers with a slight wobble to her step and the taste of her own slick on her tongue. Naerys put on a light dress black laced with Velaryon blue. The late summer air in Kings Landing was warm. She did not need more than that.

When she entered their chambers solar, she found that Daemon had gotten up and put on his nightshirt and robe. He sat in his chair by the morning's low fire with Daenys hand in his as he laughed at something their daughter had said. His violet eyes crinkled around the corners of his face. Naerys enjoyed the sight that her favorite pair made.

Daenys was the first to notice her mother’s appearance in the doorway. Her mother noted that she did not look too distressed. Whatever matter she had to tell her could not be that worrying. With a kiss on her father's cheek, the girl took her hand and led her out of their quarters. Promising Daemon that they would be back before morning's end. Rushing her mother out to avoid her father could question where she was taking her.

Daenys led her mother in the direction of the small council. Another ambush she supposed, but it was not the time. “My love it is early.” She tried to pull her daughter closer lest the prying ears of the Red Keep hear them. Rhaenyra or those who she found in her favor could be lurking around. She would rather avoid another run-in, but the girl continued on.

“Do not fret. We will—“ The sight of Alicent interrupted her train of thought. The queen looked grave, weary no doubt from the care of her husband, but relieved to see them. Naerys peered around Alicent expecting to see Aemond, but the younger prince was nowhere to be seen.

“Thank you Daenys.” The Hightower queen took Daenys hand to give it a small squeeze. Ser Criston stood at her side like a sentry. His tan face was unreadable though he offered her a princess as a way of greeting. Naerys hesitated but her daughter bent down to whisper in her ear.

“Please hear them out muña. For my sake.” Daenys placed a faint peck on her cheek before heading down the hall in the direction of Helaena’s chambers. Naerys let out a sigh as she made her way through the council chamber's open doorway. There was no harm in hearing whatever Alicent had to say. They had a common interest after all. Perhaps combined they might be able to convince Viserys and Daemon to betroth Daenys to Aemond and end the charade.

Naerys was not surprised to see Ser Otto standing at the head of the small council chambers, but she was surprised to see Lord Jasper Wylde, Lord Beesbury, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Lord Larys seated along with Lord Commander Ser Westerlings. No one spared her a second glance apart from Ser Otto and Lord Strong.

The first greeted her as Ser Criston had. His expression held no truths like the Dornish knight. The second man she had always found to be unsettling. The newest Lord Strong had never been unkind to her. Quite the opposite in fact, but she could sense the darkness underneath his overly friendly smiles.

Laena had never liked her good brother and she got on with nearly everyone she met. “You must watch his eyes, dear little cousin.” The eyes told all. Naerys did not miss the way Alicent seemed to be startled by his presence either when she thought no one was looking. Or how she kept her children away from the Lord of Harrenhal.

Ser Tyland Lannister arrived not a moment after her. He paused at first seeing her. Naerys had never been to a council meeting. Seeing her there must have been a queer sight. An obvious sign something was not quite right. The master of ships took his seat at the end of the table. It was clear that this meeting was not about her daughter’s betrothal. A marriage plot was not at foot. At least not only a marriage plot.

Ser Tyland was the first to speak, directing his question at the Lord Hand. He seemed to be just as clueless as Naerys though he seemed not to be perturbed by the possible nature of this meeting. He was as vain as always. Making a joke of it in the way that those of his house were fond of doing. “What is it that could not wait an hour? Has Dorne invaded?”

“The king is dead.” Ser Otto wasted no time. Naerys dropped into her chair. It was not shocking. It should not be shocking. Most of Viserys had rotted away a lifetime ago. He was a shell of his former self. The stranger had clung to him far longer than perhaps he had even meant to. His time had come. His reign had come to an end. The age of peace that had lasted in Westeros since her great grandsire the Old King Jaehaerys had come to an end. The next one would be more uncertain than the last.

Daemon was Naerys' first concern. Her husband loved his brother beyond reason. A brother who defended him despite every accusation thrown his way. A brother who he had worshiped. A brother he had wanted to be as close to as possible at one point. His first champion was dead. It made sense why she had been sent instead of him.

Though older now and a bit more reasonable the Rogue Prince had well earned his moniker. He would have no doubt throttled the Lord Hand or plunged Dark Sister into his belly if it was not taken away at the mere mention of his brother's death. Accusing him of schemes and plots to do away with his brother.

Naerys was lost in her own thoughts until she heard the mention of Aegon’s name. King. They wanted to crown him king. Plans which had been made would at long last be set into motion. Plans on who to replace amongst those who were loyal to Rhaenyra. With luck, the crown Princess had left the capital for Driftmark at Princess Rhaenys invitation. Now was the time to strike! Where ravens needed to be sent to call upon their dearest allies in the reach, riverlands, and the westerlands.

Prince Daeron, who was being fostered with his newly lorded Hightower cousin in Oldtown, needed to be sent for or at least prepared for what would come. An envoy was needed for an alliance with House Baratheon. No one seemed shocked to hear of such arrangements apart from herself, the Lord Commander, and Lord Beesbury.

Lord Beesbury was the one to voice his displeasure at hearing such plots. Reminding them all of the loyalty that they owed to Princess Rhaenyra. The king's chosen heir. The rightful heir. The lords of the realm had sworn oaths of loyalty. Visery had stayed true to his daughter. They could not go back on their words now. What was a man without his word? To do so would descend the seven kingdoms into chaos. To place Aegon on the throne would be to place a pretender at the helm.

Lord Jasper and Ser Tyland refuted his arguments in rapid succession. Aegon was not just some lord or some prince. He was the king's son. His eldest son. The king could have changed his mind. Finally coming to his senses in the end. The oaths of loyalty to Rhaenyra were made half a lifetime ago. A great many of the knights and lords who had sworn them were dead. The Great Council of 101 AC had set a precedent a male heir came before his female relations. It would be a profound error to crown her queen on the wishes of a dead man who could never put aside his remorse.

Lord Beesbury turned to Naerys. She had some authority. She was a princess in her own right and a member of House Targaryen. She could lend her voice and join him in his reason. Surely she could see past this foolishness.

This was disloyalty of the highest order, but Naerys could not agree with the reach lord. He could not truly ask her to defend her cousin's claim. Not after she had tormented her and her marriage. For years without end. Dangling the promise of sons in front of Daemon’s face. Sons that the younger princess could never give their uncle. Sons he had so desperately wanted.

The events of yesterday were too fresh in her mind. The old lord had not been present for the petition, but he must have heard the goings on around court. Of what happened to her uncle. The image of Ser Vaemond’s headless body being carried away to be fed to Syrax was a hard one to shake.

Rhaenyra might have been the king's chosen heir, but Aegon was well within his rights to claim the Iron Throne for himself. No matter how unfit he may be, and both he and his sister had the temper and gluttony of their house in equal measure, he was the rightful heir by the laws of men and Gods alike. Sons came before daughters, even younger sons.

Viserys had been wrong not to put aside Rhaenyra in favor of her brother, but he had a guilty conscience. The memories of his first wife and what he had done to her plagued his very soul. Haunting him till his dying day. Till his dying breath no doubt. He could not let down the daughter as he had the mother and the realm would be left to deal with his weakness. The seven kingdoms would pay for a dragon's pride.

There was also the issue of the legitimate line of succession should Rhaenyra be crowned queen. Her only heirs were bastards. Sweet gentle boys, but bastards nonetheless. One could not seat a bastard upon the Iron Throne. Placing Rhaenyra on that very throne would cause more of a headache in the long run than it was worth.

Lord Beesbury was not fazed by the silence in favor of Rhaenyra’s claim. Standing on his own in face of the opposition. He would not be deterred. He had known the king's wishes. He would not go back on his word. The lord was a man of integrity and honor. He had not forgotten where his loyalty lay.

A man’s honor. His honor. The path of righteousness, or a form of it, at court rarely led to recognition or a favorable outcome. Lord Beesburys defense of Rhaenyra could be considered honorable, but honor was worth little within the pale stone walls of the Red Keep.

“This is seizure!” The lord’s last protests. The old lord stood up from his chair to look around the room. Accusing everyone. “It is theft! It is treason at the least!” Grand Maester Orwyle, who had been quiet up until now, advised him to mind his tongue before it landed him into trouble, but the lord continued on despite the advice of the dark maester. Making his gravest accusation against the council yet. Regicide.

Naerys held her breath. If her husband had been there with them he would have been in agreement. His misplaced grief would lead him to it. Searching for someone to blame for his brother's end, they all knew the truth.

The king's death was a natural one and a long time in the making. Lord Jasper asked the reach lord who he suspected of the murder, but he could not say. The king was dead and he believed it was at their hands. “Whether it was one of you or all of you I care not. I will have no part-” With a swift push of his head into the table Ser Criston had been the one to silence Lord Lyman Beesbury before he could finish his allegations and take leave of the council to alert his queen.

Lord Bessbury’s skull had been punctured by the marble ball he had placed in front of him. Vicious crimson fluid spilled out from the side of his head onto the small council table. Grand Maester Orwyle went to check for signs of life, but it was a wasted effort. The blow had killed him instantly.

It could have been an accident. It was more than likely one, but the force Ser Criston used had been excessive. The queen looked shocked by her loyal knight's actions reaching out to grasp Naerys arm when she jumped in fright. Ser Criston himself could not take his dark eyes of the old lord's lifeless body

The Lord Commander stood shocked as the rest of them, but he pulled out his blade once the surprise had worn off. Seeing what could happen Ser Tyland quickly moved out of the way lest he be caught in the crossfire. Ser Westerlings asked his subordinate to vacate his position on the Kingsguard and turn in his sword and cloak immediately. He had killed a defenseless man. He was not worthy to wear the white cloak of Kingsguard. He would stain it with his misdeeds.

Ser Criston would not hear of it. Pulling out his own sword in defense. “I will not suffer insults to her grace the queen.” The two men stood at odds. Staring at each other from the tips of their weapons. The Dornish knight only lowered his blade once his queen assured him that she had not been insulted.

Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that Lord Beesburys body be removed, but Ser Otto held him off. They had business yet to discuss. Council reconvened as a steady stream of blood leaked from the dead lord's head.

The issue of Storms End and its lord became the next topic for consideration, but Naerys remained lost in her fright. Images of Ser Vaemond’s headless corpse and Lord Beesburys combined. Each death played over in her mind. The first acts of violence before the ensuing chaos. Statements. Each of them. It hit her then. The true meaning of this meeting. They were going to war. That is why she had been called for.

“Do you plan on killing Rhaenyra?” A sense of dread led her to ask the question. Naerys did not need an answer for it. Alicent would do anything to insure her children's safety. Ser Otto held little love for the would-be queen and had always thirsted for her uncle's throne.

“Princess, a living challenger invites battle and bloodshed.” The Grand Maester supplied her with as if she was a halfwit. What could she expect? It was a sacrifice that had to be made in order to usher in Aegon’s peaceful reign. She knew the logic behind it. The younger princess herself was finding it difficult to feel sympathy for her cousin at times, but she did not wish for her death.

“Perhaps my aunt might help her to see sense.” There had to be another way around it. Rhaenyra was many things, but not even she deserved death. She was no real threat anyway. If someone were to get her to recognize her younger brother’s claim and conceded to it she would be no threat.

If Rhaenys could convince the younger princess to bow out gracefully there would be no need for bloodshed. She was a woman with bastards for heirs and a thinning list of allies. She could not challenge Aegon.

“Do you believe that your cousin would extend the same courtesy to you princess if you were in her position?” Ser Otto stood up to stand behind her chair. “Do you not wonder what Rhaenyra might do if she is crowned queen?” The Hightower knight grabbed her hand. Admiring the dark bruise on her brown skin from where the would-be queen had clawed at her on the way to Ser Vaemond’s petition yesternoon. “She has always been less than fond of you and overly fond of your husband.” He placed a pat on her hand before he released her. “A queen’s limits are few to none.”

When Naerys did not protest further, sitting in a half-daze, Ser Otto called for Lord Commander Westerlings to take his knights to Dragonstone and do away with Rhaenyra. The commander's reply was to turn in his cloak. He served the king and would continue to do so. He would not kill the king's heir. A woman he had known since her girlhood. Ser Westerlings left without another word.

“Ser Tyland is right.” Naerys unsteady voice interrupted the heavy silence that had fallen over the council chambers in the wake of Ser Westerlings' unexpected departure. “Lord Baratheon will side with you if you offer him a betrothal.”

She grabbed hold of her own bruised arm. Rubbing her wrist as she brought it to her chest to calm her nerves. “He does not hold his cousin in high regard.” The present lord of Storm's End had always cared little for his cousin. Viewing his late father's devotion to Rhaenys as a misplaced effort. “He holds less affection for Rhaenyra and her sons.” The man never and he had sworn no oaths of loyalty as his father had.

“Daeron would do nicely for the eldest of Lord Borros’ daughters then Ser Otto went back to his seat looking pleased though he tried his best to hide it. Alicent took her hand, gave it a squeeze, and offered her a small smile. Color was returning to the queen's cheeks.

“He would prefer Aemond.” Aemond was third in the line of succession and second if the realm wanted stability. The Baratheons were not overly ambitious, but they did have enough self-importance to make up for it. Especially Borros Baratheon who was a brute if there ever was one. To offer him a third son for his eldest daughter might be seen as a slight. They were descended from a dragonseed after all and they were a great house. They wanted their fair share.

“Aemond is already spoken for.” Daenys. Her willful girl. Her daughter had made a deal without her. She and Aemond. Naerys could not be surprised. The two young dragons wanted each other just as much as the other.

Alicent would not deny her second son what he desired nor would her father say a word against the match. Dragonstone had long been sought. It would even the odds in the war to come. Ser Otto would not let it get away even if it was for a Baratheon. At any rate, Lord Baratheon would not don his war hammer in favor of a queen who he detested. Daeron would have to do for them.

Naerys felt a mixture of emotions on her walk back to their chambers. Unease being the chief among them. The Red Keep was eerily quiet. Ser Otto had ordered half of the court to be locked within their chambers or made to swear oaths of loyalty to their new king whose present location was unknown.

Those that refused were placed in the Black Cells beneath Maegor's Holdfast while they searched for Aegon. They could keep their honor and loyalty, but they would wither away in it. The princess’s aunt Rhaenys had been among those who were confined to their quarters. That matter would have to be dealt with later. There were more pressing issues to deal with now

The princess would have to tell Daemon of his brother's fate. She would have to break the news to her husband. She would have to walk a delicate balance. Naerys knew her husband. His reaction to Viserys' passing would not be pleasant.

For all the bitter disagreements throughout their long years between the two men she knew what they meant to each other. Naerys knew how Daemon felt about his elder brother. He loved, worshiped, and resented him in equal measure in various degrees throughout his life. Death would not vanquish his sentiments.

Viserys always stood out of reach. Keeping him at an arm's length had frustrated his younger brother to no end, especially in his younger years. He was the second son desperate to belong somewhere. To be at his brother's side. He had been born for it. In another life. If circumstances were different. If they were different they would have been more. Targaryen's obsession with blood purity dictated it, but in this life, he had to forge his own path.

True enough the Rogue Prince was no longer blinded by his feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing. He had grown to see past his own lusts and wants. To see past himself. To find unselfish happiness and devotion to something more than just Targaryen tradition and customs. While admirable it did not change the fact that his brother in many ways had been his first love.

Naerys came back to their bed chambers to find her husband putting on his riding leathers. Their servants had come in and left. Most of what they had brought had been packed away. “Daenys needs to stop bothering my brother.” Daemon let out an amused sigh greeting her with a grin as he motioned his wife over to help him button his undershirt.

“If she keeps this up he won’t make it till the end of the moon much less the year. She gets that from you, you know. Your beautiful stubbornness.” He kissed her forehead. Naerys tried to distract herself with her task at hand. Each second would bring her closer to having to tell of all that had happened. Daemon was always two steps ahead. Noticing that she had not met his eyes once since she arrived back to their guest chambers. With a stroke down her soft cheek, he took her face between his rough hands to bring her gaze up to meet his.

Her husband's eyes darkened when she began to worry at her plump little lip. Taking the offending feature between her teeth to calm her nerves as Daemon stared down at her. “What did they do?” His eyes traveled across her face. He could see the look in her amethyst orbs. He knew.

Naerys could never hide anything from him, try as she might. She had always been a terrible actress. Her uncle could always sniff her out without her even having to say so much as a word. “What did they do to my brother? She knew that his ire was not directed at her, but he would, sure enough, try to find some target for his anger. The princess reached up a small hand to stroke her husband's pale cheek mirroring his actions in the hope that it would provide him comfort in the wake of such news.

“Viserys died in the middle of the night kepus.” Naerys swallowed hard and released a breath that she had been holding back. She felt her eyes watering. It was unexpected and not completely surprising when her husband collapsed. Falling to his knees and burying his pale face into her stomach. “I am so sorry.” She caressed his pale head placing a kiss upon it. The bond of brothers. Targaryen brothers at that. They had shared more than blood. Daemon had never lived in a world without him. He had always been there. Waiting.

“That bitch he calls—called his wife poisoned him.” His voice was muffled as he spoke it into her skirts. Venom was clear in his gravelly voice. She knew he did not really mean it. Viserys had looked worse for wear for the past ten years. He had grown ill so very long ago. Aegon had been ready as ever to take the throne for just as long. If Alicent and father had wanted Viserys gone they would have done so moons ago.

“He did not have to marry her. He had Rhaenyra. He had me.” It was said more to himself. The slight that had never been righted. Daemon had been his heir even before Rhaenyra. He had been good enough, but Viserys still sought to deny him his rights. To replace him with others when he had been right there. His rejection still stung. “I could have provided him with heirs. We could have. Worthy heirs.”

“You did your duty to him. There is nothing left that you could have done for your brother.” She tried to soothe her husband's brooding thoughts. His regret. The last of his wants and needs to be accepted by his brother would never be fully realized, but he had been more than adequate.

Naerys placed another kiss on his silver head. Petting the strands with a practiced hand. There was no way to stop Viserys' fate. There was no point in worrying about the past. Of what could have been. All her husband could do was grieve for his loss. “He’s at peace now, kepus. He does not have to suffer more.”

Daemon let himself be comforted by his wife. Letting her soothe his inner turmoil with soft strokes to his white head. He was like a child in her hands. A child who needed reassurance. He would do the same for Naerys. He had done the same. It was only right that she provided him with a balm to his mournful soul.

It was no surprise when her husband sprung up from his kneeling position. Cupping her face between his hands before crashing his mouth upon hers in a searing kiss. Making quick work of their clothes as he does so as to bring her to their bed. Tumbling on top of the freshly made linen without breaking apart. Never forgetting her needs, Daemon moved a strong hand down to Naerys center. It did not take much to arouse her. Merely igniting the flame from earlier that morning with his skilled fingers.

Daemon plunged his hard length into her willing channel in a matter of minutes. Driving in and out of her sopping heat with a frenzy. The sounds of their lovemaking overtook their guest quarters. No words were exchanged between them. Only a symphony of grunts, whimpers, and moans.

There was no battle. She let him use her like she was a doll. His doll. She was his beloved lady wife after all. He was well within his rights to gorge himself and slack his lusts and pent up emotions on her supple flesh.

Their coupling is not unkind. Daemon was not truly rough. Only impassioned. It was never unpleasant, not even in his anger and hurt. Whatever ill feelings he held within dissipated. He drew as much comfort from her as she does from him. Give and take. Equals in their own way. All too soon he spills his seed inside her. Her own peak followed not moments after from his continued pressure and small rough circles made upon her little pearl.

As they lay in a sweaty naked heap of bare limbs upon the now-ruined bed the chamber descended into silence. Daemon remained half hard inside of his wife, keeping their combined spends from leaking out onto what was once clean sheets. He was far from being down with her as he rested his head upon her breast.

Daemon occasionally took a nipple within his mouth to suckle upon. Leaving her little brown peaks engorged and themselves in a constant state of arousal. He was sated. Naerys continued to console and dote upon her husband as he returned and basked in her affections with a tight grip on her person. It was a spell before either spoke again. “Skoros gaomagon se vipers jaelagon?” What do the vipers want?

Daemon lifted his head from her breasts to gaze down at his niece. His face was still ashen, but she could see that he would heal from this setback. Some of the mischief had returned to his violent orbs. Naerys felt relief. He would come to terms with the nature of his brother's death. “Skoros gōntan pōnta call ao syt byka mēre?” What did they call you for little one?

Daemon was not stupid. He knew what Viserys death entailed. Why they had called his wife to a council meeting instead of himself. It was not just his propensity for violence that caused them to seek out Naerys to deliver the news. No, above all else the schemers and lackwits that had run his late brother’s court and council wanted a mother’s heart. A mother’s gentleness would convince a dragon of a father to see the merit past the blatant ambition.

“Aōha tala se Aemond jaelagon naejot dīnagon.” Your daughter and Aemond wish to wed. It was better to start out with words of love. To remind him of the familial bond he shared with Aemond. To dance around Otto’s true aim. Dragonstone.

Naerys knew that they saw Daenys as a means to secure their seat and the arsenal it held, but that did not mean that was an absence of fondness. Of care and affection on the part of the young people around. It was their duty as Targaryen’s to marry for the good of their house. Why not wed the two who wished to be together? Perhaps duty and love could coincide. No matter how rare, it would not be the first case of it nor the last.

Daemon was not heartless. He could be rash, but even a dragon's heart could bend to those who laid a claim to him. He loved Daenys. He would die for her as he would live for her. As they all would. Let his love for his daughter sway him towards acceptance of the union.

“Ziry iksos tolī hāeda.” She is too young. An excuse. A poor one at that. Daemon himself had wedded and bedded her when she had been little older than their daughter and he was twice her age. Aemond was only a cousin rather than an uncle. There was a mere six years between the two. Her uncle had no room to talk.

Naerys would not usually push the issue, war or no war, but the two did care for each other. Daenys had been smitten with her older cousin since she could talk and Aemond was a stern enough though devoted boy. Matches were made with less. Her own had. She barely knew her uncle when she was thrust upon him.

“They love one another.” That counted for everything. It had to. “If we do not agree to it, she will be lost to us.” Daenys had too much of her father’s spirit. She would play nice for now, but her desire would win out. Aemond was little better. He had inherited the dragon's blood. All fire and blood willing to burn for each other. It was sweet if not a little terrifying.

“Skoros would ao gaomagon lo ao could daor emagon issa? What would you do if you could not have me?” Naerys brought a hand up to caress his jaw. Clenching her heat around her uncle’s member. It was playing dirty, but she was left with no choice. Daemon had said that she was made for him. She had been what he needed and he reviled in her light.

The Rogue Prince would gladly commit every sin according to the gods old, new, and anyone else in between for her. He had threatened to live in sin to have her. Was it truly damning to have someone you wanted by your side? If an old dragon could not be made to give up what he desired, what made him think that two young dragons would give in to his commands?

Aemond and Daenys could not be stopped even on Daemon's account. They were both young, hot-tempered, and too caught up with each other. The two would force her father’s hand if he did not give his blessing willingly. A scandal that could be avoided if the old prince saw reason.

“Ziry iksos nykeā Hightower.” He is a Hightower. Daemon brought his forehead down to nuzzle hers as his violet eyes closed shut. He breathed his wife in as he held back a groan from his wife’s inner walls fluttering around his cock. She would be the death of him, oh but what a blissful end it would be.

Naerys tried and failed to stifle her laugh which turned to a whimper when Daemon rocked up into her swollen cunt. A playful punishment for her cheek. Kicking a poor man while he was down. Her husband had acted like a spoiled child who seemed to take joy out of denying his nephew. He was running out of excuses and they both knew it.

“Ziry iksos aōha lēkia tresy.” He is your brother’s son. Aemond was a Targaryen even if his mother was a Hightower. Targaryen’s appeared to always be meant for another. He loved Daenys and she loved him. There could be no argument about their feelings toward each other. There was certainly no argument that could be made on who would be more suited for her than Aemond. “Who would you rather have her marry?”

A part of Naerys knew why her husband hesitated to wed the two. It was more than a father's overprotective nature rearing its ugly head. Targaryen’s were a special lot. There was no denying that. Blood belonged with blood. Daemon had wanted his blood for his daughter. It was more than just a want for an heir. He wanted a son for Daenys. It was natural. It was what was expected. His parents had a natural blood mate as had their parents. Why not his daughter?

But Naerys had failed to give birth to a living son. Daemon would never hold it against her, but she knew why he resented Aemond’s presence so much. He stood as a reminder of what could have been. Perhaps in another life things were different, and things were just as they should be, but in this one, their nephew would have to do.

Another part of her, the naive young princess that her husband had first married, wondered if he had truly found peace. If he were as happy as he claimed to be. He defended her to no end, but she still could not stop the dark thoughts that roamed around in the back of her head.

To marry Daenys to Aemond would mean cutting off Rhaenyra for good. To side against his niece. His first niece. The princess he had originally put all of his hopes and desires into. There would be no going back if he chose this path. A war would permanently separate the two.

There was always another option. Daemon could choose to honor Viserys' wish. His brother's last decree. To marry Daenys to Joffrey. To take up for Rhaenyra’s cause. To give her the legitimacy she so desired. To crown her queen.

Daemon did not miss a beat. He kissed away the worry that washed upon Naerys little brow from her troubling thoughts. Sighing into her temple. Not for the first time did he regret his treatment of his little wife during the first moons of their marriage. He should have told her of his sooner of his feelings toward her, but he had been too clouded by his own conceit and resentment.

He had almost lost her in her attempts to prove herself worthy. She, apart from their daughter, meant more to him than all the breath in his body. His brave gentle girl. He did not deserve her yet he had her heart and devotion nonetheless. He should have stayed away from her. Let her marry one of her Velaryon cousins as Ser Vaemond had planned, but he had been too selfish. Too greedy to be denied her. If he couldn’t have Rhaenyra he’d have his other niece for a wife. Daemon was better off for it in the end.

“Ziry jāhor emagon naejot sagon gaomagon gō aegon iksos crowned.” It will have to be done before Aegon is crowned. He whispered it to his little wife. Conceding at long last. Neither Ser Otto nor the prince would trust one another before the deed was done. Too much bad blood stood in the way without the tie of kinship keeping them from harming each other.

“Se Zaldrīzes Ripo jāhor emagon naejot gaomagon.” The Dragonpit will have to do. The Rogue Prince would not have his daughter marry in a sept and they did not have time to journey to Dragonstone and back to wed her in the proper place. Naerys felt the bulk of her woe disappear as she let out a breath of relief which quickly turned into a moan. Her husband had captured her mouth in another sweet yet feverish kiss.

There was no need to prepare themselves for their next round of coupling. With a swift thrust, Daemon was once more buried deep within her love-soaked heat. Where he belonged. The day was still early. They could worry about the ceremony later. Right now her husband had need of her. He was still grieving after all.

Mid-afternoon descended upon the Red Keep before Daemon ceased his amorous affections. He had left his wife feeling achingly sore and reluctant to leave their bed chamber, but there was much to still be done. The castle was in a somber state of half mourning as they prepared for their new king's coronation on the morrow.

Aegon had been located, but the soon-to-be king was found in a drunken state hiding within the Grand Sept. He was dragged back to the Red Keep by a disappointed Ser Criston and a disgruntled Aemond.

The lecherous prince protested bitterly against taking up his late father’s mantle. He did not wish to see himself seated upon the Iron Throne. The boy had some awareness. Naerys would give him that. “Let my sister have it or one of my brothers. I don't care! I do not want it!” If it was up to Daemon she knew that he would place Aemond in his stead with Daenys at his side. Their grandson would be the future king.

The realm might be better for it, but they had chosen the side of duty and order or at least the appearance of it. Aegon would be made king whether he wanted it or not. It was not an issue with which Naerys would concern herself. His mother and grandsire had it well within hand. Rhaenys was at the forefront of her mind now.

“Are my granddaughters safe?” Her aunt's unnaturally cold voice greeted her before she could even shut the door to her chambers turned holding cell. Rhaenys stood facing her windows. The shutters were closed leaving the fire and freshly lit candles to provide light on the eve of the dying day. The older princess' body was rigid as she stared out below at the sweltering capital.

“They arrived safely back to Driftmark this morning.” She reached out to lend a reassuring hand but the older woman flinched away. It stung as Naerys moved her arm back to her side. Wringing her wrist to keep her hands busy. “No one will go after them.” She would not stand for it. She would allow it.

Naerys owed Laena who had been a sister to her in all but name. She would not see any harm come to her late cousin's daughters. Laena would do the same for her. At any rate, the Greens did not have any quarrel with either Baela or Rhaena. They were mere girls who had the misfortune to be betrothed to their bastard half-brothers. “You have my word aunt.”

“The word of jailers and traitors means little to me Naerys.” Rhaenys finally turned her rapidly graying head around to face her. Narrowing her violet eyes in cool inspection. The younger princess tried her best not to cower under her good aunt's gaze. It is a funny thing how we revert into the children we once were from something as simple as a disapproving glare.

“Aegon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.” Naerys held her ground. Her aunt let out a huff in amusement. As if her words were so ridiculous. Truth had become humorous in the face of lies that they had told for so very long. Mayhaps she had even forgotten it. What a strange world they lived in. “From where I stand, Rhaenyra is the traitor.”

“Traitor to what exactly?” Rhaenys would not lend her candor to the situation. She had made her bed with Rhaenyra. She would not give in now no matter the truth. It need not be said. They could skirt around it for all they like. The truth after all was a fickle thing that changed as easily as a late summer breeze. “She is the king's chosen heir.” That meant little now and they both knew it. To crown Rhaenyra queen would be folly.

“She has obvious bastards for heirs.” Her aunt could not even refute it. It may not be treason per se, but it was chaos. The realm would descend into madness if Rhaenyra was crowned and placed on the Iron Throne. Not even men declared their bastards as trueborn. Let alone did they dare to make one king, but her cousin had Targaryen conceit in abundance. “The realm can not withstand her reign.”

“You are so quick to tear another woman down Naerys.” It was Naerys turn to let out a snort in amusement. Though she did not flinch back as she had when the older princess reached out to admire a silver curl with a sneer. She had forgotten that her aunt was a Targaryen like the rest of them. A dragon rider with a dragon’s heat.

“I thought I taught you better than that.” Her aunt knew good and well why she would not side with her cousin. Rhaenys had been there when Rhaenyra tried to accuse her of treason. Her cousin had judged her to be an enemy and wanted her head just as she had wanted Ser Vaemond’s.

“We would not be in this mess if you had not let them steal your crown out from under you.” The Naerys spat out. She would not be dismissed as a woman acting out of malice and spite. If her aunt wanted cruelty she would show it to her. If she wanted to hurt. She would hurt back. It was petty, but she had reason enough. She would not cower and hide like a frightened girl.

The Queen Who Never Was. Naerys knew how Rhaenys hated it. Hated being called it by those closest to her. The constant reminders from her uncle the late Lord Boremund Baratheon. Whispers from her husband Lord Corlys. Even Ser Vaemond’s mocking sneers

Rhaenys was the firstborn daughter of the firstborn son. She was the rightful heir, but the Old King wanted a male heir to succeed him rather than his late son's daughter. Her position as heir died the moment her father had.

Rhaenys was passed over thrice. First by her uncle, Naerys grandsire, then Naerys father, and finally Viserys. The crown should have gone to her, but it went to a worthy successor with only a whimper of a protest and that came from her uncle the Sea Snake. Her aunt had always said she had gotten over the slight, but she could see a brief flash of envy in her violet eyes sometimes when they gazed upon the Iron Throne, Viserys, or even Rhaenyra.

“You talk of the good of the realm. Everything I have done has been for the good of the realm.” Her aunt's face was set in stone. Her eyes held little light in them. Years of practice made the lack of emotion on the subject appear natural on her pale visage. “If I recall your mother made the same decision when she let Viserys take your crown as well niece.” Though her tone was not biting, Rhaenys curled her lips in a jeer. A blow for a blow.

“My mother did not even have the support of her own brothers.” True enough, Ser Vaemond had supported her father’s claim, but he did not put up much of a fight once Prince Aenys had been sent to an early grave. Lord Corlys had offered his protection. He would never let a hand raise in harm against his only sister or his babe niece, but he offered little else.

“She had no choice! I was a child! You had the might of House Velaryon at your disposal. You had a dragon!” At the time, only Daemon had claim to a full-grown dragon. Little stood in her way. “You had a son who would rule after, yet you still gave up your crown for a man not even worthy to rule Dragonstone, let alone the Seven Kingdoms!”

Viserys was a weak man who spread disease and poison wherever he went. He played the role of peacemaker, but he caused more damage than all of them. Trampling on tradition while he gained everything he had ever had from it. “You won’t even stand up to her husband to make Baela heir.”

“Do not lecture me niece.” Rhaenys laughed. It was a bitter one this time. “Everything I do is for my granddaughters.” The years of pent-up frustration brewing finally bubbled over at the surface. “You are a mother now Naerys. You ought to know better. You are a woman grown now. Since you are so concerned with who is a worthy heir, push for your claim and your daughters. Ask the Greens that you side with to call for a Great Council. Ask your husband to start a war for you. See where that gets you!”

She did not doubt that Daemon would start a war of succession for her. It was well within his nature, but there was no denying that it would only end in needless bloodshed. Naerys had no sons and no means to provide the realm with them other than Daenys. While the smallfolk might love their Rogue Prince the lords of the land were less than fond of her uncle and would like him less as their King consort.

Truth be told it was a relief in a way that she had not been made queen. Aegon was right. Above all the Iron Throne was a curse more than it was something to covet and hold in one’s possession.

“Our house finally has the chance to seat a woman upon the throne and yet you stand in your cousin's way the same as the men who stood in our way.” Perhaps Rhaenys had deluded herself into thinking that Rhaenyra would be a just and fair ruler. Perhaps Rhaenyra might be a good queen, but Naerys would have no part in helping her cousin to the throne.

This went beyond who was worthy of holding the throne. “You side with the men of the realm just the same.” Her aunt tried one last time, but it was in vain. Naerys would not be bullied into acceptance by a hypocrite who sided with a woman who had made her own daughter's marriage a misery. “We all must make sacrifices Naerys.”

“She accused me of treason.” After ripping out the tongues of her Velaryon cousins and ordering the beheading of her uncle no less. Naerys would no longer dance around the truth. She could not. She had the bruise to prove Rhaenyra’s intent for her. If it was not for her husband's affection toward her, her head would surely be in Syrax’s belly next to Ser Vaemond’s. “Forgive me if I am not so sympathetic to her plight.”

“I will send for someone to deliver you to your granddaughters.” There were still those loyal to the crown princess. It would not take much to sneak her out of the Red Keep. She could enlist Ser Westerlings' help if need be.

Naerys would not see Baela and Rhaena alone in this world. The girls had been through so much. They would undoubtedly be pushed aside if their grandmother was not there to protect and defend them. Even if it meant giving Rhaenyra one more dragon rider, Laena's girls needed her.

Rhaenys reached out to grasp Naerys. Seemingly releasing the mistake in her chastisement. She had been too cruel, but the younger princess flinched away. Pulling open the chamber doors she did not turn around to face her aunt. She could not do so without crumbling. “Good luck aunt.” Making her way back into the hall Naerys let out a silent prayer to the Mother that she would not meet her in worse circumstances than this.

Aemond and Daenys wedding ceremony was a quiet and hurried affair. Neither she nor her cousin turned nephew turned good-son seemed disappointed by this fact. A septon had been procured with surprising speed, but Daemon insisted that he would officiate the ceremony. After of course he had called his soon-to-be good-son to their chambers for a pre-wedding bonding of sorts.

“If you ever hurt my daughter.” Her husband sat upon his armchair polishing Dark Sister in his sword hand. His other pale hand he placed upon Aemond’s shoulder. “If I find out that you have ever made her unhappy.” He gestured to the blade in his grasp. Twirling it around with a small smirk that did not reach his darkened eyes. He looked every bit the vengeful Valyrian God of old. “This will find a home in that empty hole you call your eye, sweet nephew.”

The younger prince did not flinch at his uncle's words. Only bowing his head slightly. “I would gladly accept that fate, nuncle.” It was his simple reply. One that seemed to satisfy Daemon who got up from his chair to place a heavy pat on Aemond’s with a mirthless chortle.

Naerys did not doubt Aemond’s sincerity. He was utterly devoted to Daenys. She had not seen him so much as looked at another maiden. He was not a drunken lustful fool like his older brother nor was he neglectful as his father had been.

He had some darkness in him, but it was familiar. The same darkness she saw in her own husband. The same need to prove himself as a second son, but he was overall a dutiful Targaryen prince. In any case, Naerys would burn Aemond herself with Silverwings' help if he was ever untrue to their daughter.

Daenys' lady companion, a bubbly girl of ten and six who was the daughter of their steward, had brought Naerys wedding robes to the Red Keep at the young princess's request. To that, her mother could not be surprised. It was clear that her daughter had not planned on leaving Kings Landing without what or rather who she wanted.

Helaena had taken care to pin flowers picked by her children into her little sister's hair alongside her headpiece after Naerys had pinned up her silver curls. Beaming at the finished result. “Ao jurnegon hae pretty hae aōha muñnykeā byka zaldrīzes.” You look as pretty as your mother little dragon. Daemon’s violet eyes were glassy in the candlelight as he gazed at his daughter. There was no denying that Daenys looked every bit the Valyrian bride. Though her mother thought that the robes fit better on her daughter’s frame than they had ever looked on her.

Naerys could not help, but compare her daughter's wedding to her own. Truthfully could only remember her nerves. The bulk of that fateful day had been a blur. Even when it had been fresh in her mind. She did recall though that Daemon had to draw her blood for her. Her hand had been too shaky.

Daenys had been able to cut her own lip without Aemond’s assistance. She did not wince when her new husband placed their combined blood upon her forehead, the only person who had done so had been Alicent though her bright smile held the truth of her feelings towards her new good-daughter.

Daenys repeated her vows in Valyrian with perfect diction. She beamed up at Aemond, who looked the happiest Naerys had ever seen, as she did so. Daenys was a glowing vibrant bride and her mother was glad for that.

The feast afterward was a rather interesting experience. Aegon had sobered up enough to attend the family gathering in late fathers Nos his private solar. He had not, however, recovered enough from his past libations to have full control of his wits. The soon-to-be crowned king had called for the bedding twice. The first was met with dark glares from both Aemond and Daemon which should have kept him from egging on the situation, but not a quarter hour later did he call for it to be done again.

“Your bride is very pretty brother.” Having been banned from wine and ale for the duration of the feast Aegon took a swig of water from his goblet. Continuing on with a half-drunken smile. “It is a pity that Good Queen Alyssnne saw fit to do away with the first night.” Helaena who sat next to her husband blanched, though his next words would cause them all to stir in anger and recoil in horror.

“My dear little sister could have had two princes breaking her in tonight. Perhaps she still might.” The singers had stopped their music at the last of their new king's declaration. The room went deathly silent. Before either Daemon or Aemond, who were both armed, could enact harm against Aegon, before he was even crowned no less, Ser Otto sprouted up from his seat at the table's end to diffuse the situation.

“I believe that it is time that you retire, your grace.” The hand of the King motioned Ser Criston over to where his eldest grandson sat by a furious Aemond who had only been stopped from committing kingslaying and kinslaying from his young bride's honey hand on his pale one. “You will need your strength for tomorrow.” Aegon protested, but Ser Criston and some of his men were able to lead him back to his bed chambers without too much fuss.

While there was no bedding that did not stop Daemon from trying to hold off Aemond and Daenys departure for as long as he could. The thought of his daughter being swept away to be misused by his nephew made him ill. So he took to glaring at Aemond from where he sat on Daenys left during the duration of the feast. Taking his daughter's smaller hand in his and placed a paternal kiss upon the honey skin. It was almost amusing at first, but as the feast progressed it soon enough became an unbearable sight to watch. The Rogue Prince's mood only became more gloomy with each minute that passed.

Daemon would not even let Daenys join her new husband for so much as a dance, lest Aemond might somehow whisk his daughter away to defile her. Never mind the fact that he was well within his rights to do so now. She was his wife.

Aemond returned his new good father’s glower in kind, but he did not say anything to the older man. Not wanting to provoke his uncle's ire at his own wedding feast. Their poor girl, despite her smile, looked like she was suffocating under her father's smothering. Having to placate both men who she sat into between.

Naerys did not like the idea of what would happen after the feasts either. Their daughter would always be her baby. Her only living child who she had been blessed by the Gods to carry inside her belly for nine moons. It was she who had cared for her before anyone else had known her. She had been a part of her and would always be. She knew Daenys better than her own self, but the young princess was a married woman now. It would not do for her husband to act as he did.

It was only when Naerys had been asked by Ser Criston to join him for a dance, that her husband turned his back on the newlyweds long enough that the two were able to sneak out and head for Aemond’s chambers. Away from prying eyes as they spent their first night as man and wife.

Naerys could not hold back her laughter at the look on her husband’s stern face when he realized that his daughter and good-son had left for their chambers. He was pale as a ghost as he scanned the king's private solar for a glimpse of Daenys. “īlon jāhor ūndegon zirȳ isse se tubis kepus.” We will see them in the morning, uncle. They did not get much rest that night though she counted it lucky that Daemon had not sought to make their daughter a widow on her wedding day.

The ride to Aegon’s coronation the following day was pleasant enough. Naerys rode with her daughter and niece, the soon-to-be crowned queen. The girls sat huddled opposite to the older princess exchanging whispers and giggles amongst themselves. With a rosy flush coloring her honey face, Daenys was the very picture of a new bride. Outside their wheelhouse was a different story.

Both Aemond and Daemon rode ahead of them on horseback. The two had not spoken to each other since the ceremony, but as long as neither prince attempted to harm the other their wives would not force a connection between them. At least not yet anyway.

The hopes for the coronation were low. The Dragonpit had been filled enough with small folk. Though completely sober for mayhaps the first time in his adult life, Aegon was sullen and pale as he made his grand entrance. His eyes watering over as he kneeled next to his sister-wife to be anointed and blessed by Septon Eustace in the frail High Septon’s absence.

Ser Criston held up the crown of the conqueror for all to see before placing it upon the prince’s white head. Proclaiming him the heir and king in the name of the seven. From the corner of her eye, Naerys noticed her good-son staring at his brother's head. A second son bound by duty. Daenys grabbed her husband’s hand in comfort. Aemond gladly took her little honey hand further into his grasp, but his eyes remained on Aegon.

Alicent went forward to place her own crown upon her daughter's fair head. Giving her a kiss on her cheek before bowing to her. “My Queen.” The girl would not quite meet her mother’s eye though the dear little queen did accept her mother's gesture with a half smile.

Ser Criston had been the one first to bow his head to their new king. He had done so without thought. Tradition dictated that they follow the Dornish knight's lead. In recognition of their new king, each standing on the Dragonpits dais, apart from Helaena who remained kneeling, dropped to a half curtsey, a head bow, or a jerk of the head in Daemon’s case which had been stiffer than Aemond’s half-hearted attempt. Naerys' husband would give him no more than that.

Aegon turned his hollowed-out eyes to gaze at his family and council before turning to face the crowd. King Aegon. The second of his name. For a brief moment, it seemed as if the boy’s low spirits would continue on, but then the crowd began to cheer. He was king. He was the lord of the seven kingdoms. Protector of the realm and he only just now realized it. He basked in the small folks' acceptance of him. Pumping his sword in elation, until an unexpected visitor arrived.

Rhaenys. In her full armor, she rode on top of Meleys. The scarlet she-dragon burst from underneath the floorboards. Crushing the small folk who had been unlucky enough to be in her path. Naerys had not forgotten her aunt. Nor how they left things between them, but she did not expect her to pay her kindness with this.

Chaos reigned over the Dragonpit. Ser Otto commanded the gates to be open as the occupants inside scrambled to exit from the dome lest they wind up crushed or trampled by the Lady of Driftmark and her dragon. Naerys found herself being pushed behind her husband. She let out a breath of relief when she turned her silver head and saw that Aemond had done the same with their daughter who stood clinging to her husband.

Meleys and her rider stared down Aegon and Alicent. The dowager queen ordered Ser Criston to protect her daughter who had moved back from the center of the dais, drawing her son in back of her. Naerys felt all the blood leave out from her body when the dragon began to growl down at the mother and her son.

Her aunt had never been a violent woman, but war makes monsters of us all. Meleys let out a piercing roar at the dowager queen and the freshly crowned king. No heat came. A scream. A battle cry. Nothing more.

Naerys was left reeling as Rhaenys took to the skies heading for Driftmark. Her aunt could have left in peace with Ser Westerlings. The loyal knight had been more than willing to offer her his sword. To take the older princess quietly, discreetly back to her home, Or gather her granddaughters from Hide Tide and bring them here to her, but she had chosen to torment them instead. She had chosen to play at war. She had chosen her queen.

Ao3 Link:

Tags: @misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade @beggarsnotchoosey @m-indkiller @pearlstiare @green-lxght @lazypinkpig @mvrylee @janelei

[msweebyness]

MiracOlympus- An Unpleasant Encounter

This is a short that takes place back in the young gods’ teenaged years, based on a moment from the second episode of the Gods School web series. But with a much more insidious context… @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

Just as a reminder:

Marc- Persephone

Mylene- Demeter

Lucien- Zelus

Enjoy!

Down in the fields around Olympus, a duo of divine siblings were picking various different crops for the feast that would take place later that night.

Marc laughed at the silly joke Mylene had just told, before he spotted some lovely Narcissus flowers growing in a grove nearby. Thinking they would be wonderful to decorate the tables, he turned to his sister.

“Hey, Sunflower, I’m gonna go pick some of those flowers in that grove to put in the centerpiece vases!”, he told her, picking up his basket and standing to leave.

“Okay, Poppy, just stay close!”, the goddess of the harvest answered with a smile, before turning back to her work.

With that, Marc made his way toward the shady grove, and began picking flowers. Gathering narcissus, wild roses, and daisies for the centerpieces, he was unaware of a pair of sharp eyes watching him…

But when he had moved fairly deep into the grove, sufficiently out of his sister’s sight, he heard a familiar voice that made his blood go cold speak to him.

“Hello, little flower.”, and Marc went rigid, turning toward the voice in a defensive stance.

“You’re not supposed to be anywhere near Olympus, Lucien. Leave now.”, he said sharply, though he couldn’t keep the tremble out of his voice, much to his dismay.

“Oh, why the cold reception, my lovely little blossom. I came all this way just to see you, after all.”, Lucien said coolly, moving out of the shadows with a serpentine grin.

“No one wants you here, least of all me! Get out of here, and for the hundredth time, leave me alone!”, Marc demanded, his hand moving toward his pocket, ready to grab the dog whistle that Nathaniel had given him, which would summon Baark to his side in an instant.

But Lucien didn’t back down, only moving closer to Marc. He reached out and cupped his cheek, making the raven-haired god shudder with revulsion.

“Come now, you don’t want me to leave.”, he purred as he leaned in so his face was only an inch or so from Marc’s, “You can’t deny what’s between us, little flower…”

Marc stiffened and quickly shoved him away, fixing him with a dagger-sharp glare.

“There is nothing between us!”, he snapped, “I love Nathaniel, and only him! And I want NOTHING to do with you!”

Lucien scowled at the mention of the redhead, and grabbed Marc’s wrist in a tight grip, pulling him in close.

“Don’t mention that name. That twerp has no place ruling over an entire domain.”, the vile god snarled, “And you shouldn’t be wasting your time on him.”

“Don’t you dare insult him! Let me go!”, Marc hissed, trying to pull himself free from Lucien’s grip. He quickly thrust his other hand into his pocket, fingers closing around the dog whistle.

However, before Lucien could make any other moves, Marc sent a prayer of thanks to the Fates as he heard his sister’s footsteps approaching, as Mylene called out for him.

“Marc? Poppy? Where are you?”

Quickly, Lucien shapeshifted into a hawk and hid in a tree, just as Mylene pushed through the cover of leaves and emerged in the grove.

“Oh, there you are! Let’s go, I think I have everything I need!”, she said, holding up her basket of grains and the like, before she noticed her brother’s disheveled state, “Poppy…are you okay?”

Straightening up, he managed to give her a smile, “Y-yeah, Sunflower, I’m fine. The, uh, the pollen is just…really thick back here.”, he quickly said, adding a sneeze for good measure.

“Well, come on, let’s get you back to Olympus for some fresh air.”, Mylene said, as Marc retrieved his basket of flowers. And with that, the two siblings flew back toward the mountain peaks, with Marc sending a cold glare back to the hawk still in the grove.

A few moments later, the hawk transformed back into a young god, glaring up at the peaks of Olympus, where he was no longer welcome…not noticing the ground giving an angry rumble below him.

Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs!

[treesofgreen]

I watched the live and David is just so incredibly sweet and cute, like I knew it but omg. His laugh.

Izzy and Ed having known each other so long they taught each other to fight and have each created pockets of themselves in the other OH MY GOD like yeah we could tell and who knows what will show up on screen but I am feasting on this.

The bit about iZzy and happiness and the ring seemed split into two parts to me, with the ring being linked to fan theories as a reason, and the part about him being broken and unwilling to be vulnerable again not necessarily a part of the ring backstory? I felt like there was a distinction being made, maybe for plausible deniability wrt spoilers.

He used to be happy but "Izzy is too jaded to realize he's unhappy" - that's depression, babe. I've said it before but Ed and Izzy are both drowning, in different ways, and unaware they're dragging the other down with them.

David complimenting Kristian on making things better for the people around him made me tear up, as did him talking about Rhys.

All too brief glimpse of a good pupper.

Leather is very comfortable after awhile apparently! Good to know. Imagining Con like Ross Geller trying to get in and out of the pants when they first started filming.

I too am upset Izzy wasn't in the episode with Jack but Con flailing around Will Arnett is very relatable.

"love tug"

Con and David having no idea what was meant by the Queen Anne set - that's because it was the same set redressed, right? I wanted Con to say the pufferfish lol

"Izzy is a diva" "all pirates love a torch song" yes good.

Con and David both forgetting/denying Stede beat Izzy is too funny.

Kristian is a rock star for doing these.

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

Just watched Episode 14, the most recent episode of Dungeon Meshi, and damn, things are getting so interesting!

Now that other characters are being introduced, so many more things come to light! Like how characters fundamentally both understand and misunderstand each other! The culture of the people in this world and how it mirrors the real world! (For example, "Eastern Folk" being treated as a hegemony, and being hit with microaggressions from even people they are close to, similar to many real world cases where someone isn't exactly a bad person, they just have some misunderstandings and underlying biases that they really must acknowledge and shake, but the problem is they tend to get defensive upon being called out for the possibility that they may be engaging in some form of bigotry)

Also, god, the narrative is gonna get kind of hard to follow, because it really does feel like everyone's converging on the Dungeon now, and we're going to see what it means to all these different people, though I feel as though Laios and his party are by design, special, in that Laios intimately wishes to understand and care for monsters, compared to others, like how Kabru doesn't understand the anatomy or the function of them, he merely sees them as difficult obstacles that he is contractually obligated to clear. That and his rather concerning intimate understanding of how to kill a human being... Kabru concerns me... I don't know enough about him, but he seems like the kind of person who, once he gets an idea of something in his head, will follow through with it recklessly.

Really, this is probably one of the best fantasy works I've ever experienced, plain and simple. It's peak. Also, man... I gotta say, if there's one thing that I feel is conveyed through the truly powerful new intro and outro, it's that one of this narrative's main and most powerful themes is unity... about how the joy of feasting leads to many other fundamental joys of being alive... the way we as human beings receive both pleasure and meaning through food... it's just absolutely breathtaking, and hits so deep.

[sweetmariihs2]

So, I made this playlist for Cedric on Spotify and I came here to talk about it. And believe me- I have A LOT to say. No one asked, but I can't keep this to myself.

I'm autistic, so I think that explains for itself (i'm hyperfocused). I made this playlist 100% based on the character trying to keep it very close to canon, I tried to capture the Disney feeling, the vibes, his personality, through the lyrics and instrumentals of the songs.

Rewatching Sofia The First, I felt a lot of nostalgia of childhood and old Disney princess movies, so I really wanted to capture that feeling, because otherwise the playlist wouldn't make sense, it wouldn't be Cedric. Furthermore, Cedric is a sorcerer and visually speaking I see that he fits slightly into the whimsigoth aesthetic, which would be themes related to the moon and stars, magic, witchcraft. That alone suits him, but added to that, I feel like he has this similar vibe to Merlin from Sword In The Stone, for example. So I think with Cedric, the stars and magic aesthetic suits him well, but not in a 90s girls way like whimsical/whimsigoth does. In this case, it would be something more magical, more nostalgic, like a wizard character straight out of a book, which directly goes back to Disney.

For the Disney villain vibe (something that would be a middle ground between Gargamel (I know he's not from Disney) and Merlin), I have his songs like Cedric The Great and My Evil Dreams, but also Poor Unfortunate Souls (Ursula's theme), Higitus Figitus (Merlin's theme), How Could I Refuse (Preminger's theme). I also have some instrumental songs, such as Let Me Tell You A Story from Russell Shaw and La Valse De Renard, which capture the feeling of that clumsy and nervous sorcerer, who's always moody and busy with everything at once, planning. You know what I'm talking about, do not pretend you don't.

And not just as a villain, but as a Disney character on his own- I feel like Sofia The First does a great job of paying homage to the old films and capturing that same feeling, so I see STF as not just a cartoon 'produced' by Disney (like The Owl House for example) but like one of those princess movies, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty. So I added stuff that could give me this feeling and still stay in character for him, like Disney songs, for example:

You know, not all the songs in that list are exactly from Disney, but that doesn't means they don't give the same feeling. And not only that- they feel nostalgic (and emotional, if I may say)

But I don't want to divide these songs in boxes, saying stuff like "this one is for the disney theme" "this one has lyrics that match his character" "this one fits his aesthetic"- some songs are there for more than just one reason, and I like to see it as a set, after all they are all on the same playlist. These songs fit the Disney Character vibes, but some also fit the magic aesthetic stuff, so it's all mixed. I prefer to see it that way

For this magical vibe, I have one of my favorite singers, Aurora Aksnes. She has an album called The Gods We Can Touch and just half of it has this vibe, not just in the looks of the album but also in the instrumentals, melodies and lyrics, so I couldn't help but include some of her songs. And I find it ironic that most of her songs that I chose have lyrics that suit him.

Like the case of the song "Potion For Love", which narrates a situation of romantic frustration, and both the lyrics and the title remind me of Cedric's situation with Sascha in the episode Enchanted Feast, and what I understand from that title is that there is no solution to love, there is no magic potion that can solve this problem. I love being a nerd

Other songs of hers that also suit him a lot are the case of Midas Touch, which I already mentioned here on Tumblr, where she narrates the situation of a reckless king in love (King Midas) who is desperate for Aurora's love, as if he depended on it, but she can't love him back because he "turns everything he touches to stone", and she can't accept this role, even though he's begging her to do so (it reminds us a lot of a situation, doesn't it?) (it could be either a y/n x Cedric situation or the events in The Day Of The Sorcerers, but in that case I prefer to ignore the romantic phrases in the song and turn it into something platonic, otherwise it will be really weird).

You Keep Me Crawling has lyrics open to interpretation, as it can talk about both religion and an abusive relationship, but it also fits the case of a wicked dictator, which the narrator still has hopes of them having mercy and deep down still being a good person, just like the case of Cedric and Sofia in The Day Of The Sorcerers.

Conflict Of The Mind talks about family issues/family fights, that despite everything, they still love eachother. Aurora wrote this song for her sister and it reminds me of Cedric and Cordelia.

A Dangerous Thing talks about a two sided person, but that Aurora knew from the first moment that this person was dangerous, and it's just getting worse and worse, to the point she reminds herself that there is no love in the world anyway, her good heart always forgets this. WHO SHOUTED SOFIA AFTER READING THIS?

To Be Loved, just read some of the lyrics: "I tell myself I have to build defenses / 'Cause once you are in love, you are defenseless / Everything was easy when it meant less [...] / Nobody knows me, nobody knows me / I'm never lonely / Until someone holds me / And let's go, just to show me / How it's like to be loved [...] / Cause nobody shows me / Nobody shows me / How is like to be loved"

The Innocent, I won't explain myself, I'll just put a part of the lyrics here: "Danger in the boy that would lose control / When everyone thought he had a heart of gold / I remember how he used to play / He'd let me win if I let him stay / He left without a single trace / I don't know why he said goodbye... to love / You would never let me in to your heart"

Exist For Love is for... fanfic purposes. And because it's the opposite song of Potion For Love. And in the MV she gets out of a shell like a mermaid/Aphrodite. Cedric x Mermaid reader, why not if he was a sea monster once (and this song is about being all lovey dovey with someone, it fits him when he was in love with Sascha, poor thing). And this album has those magical vibes, I already spoke about it before

The other Aurora's songs are there just because of the vibes. BECASE I WANT THEM TO BE *jk*

There's also Million Dollar Man by Lana Del Rey where she's in love by that villain guy and she sings "I don't know how you convince them, and get them, babe / I don't know what you do, it's unbelievable / And I don't know how you get over, get over / Someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you" and you know. It's a Lana Del Rey song. He is one of the man written by LDR I just know that he is. Salvatore is there too 👀

AND QUEEN OF DISASTED BECAUSE SHE SINGS "you're the king and baby i'm the queen of disaster"

Some directions so you can understand and use the playlist a little better:

The songs that suit him because of the lyrics are the ones at the top (a large part of the playlist), even though there are still a few that were chosen just for the vibes mixed in there. From "What Is A Youth" onwards, there are the songs that I listen to when writing and drawing things related to him, these are the instrumental songs and Disney songs, and further down are the podcasts that are uploaded by users in the app, because the owners of these songs didn't wanted to publish them on the platform.

If you want songs that match the situations he experienced, listen to the top of the playlist. If you want to daydream and feel like you're in Enchancia, or better said, in a Cedric x Y/N fanfic, I mean, in a Disney movie, listen to "What Is a Youth" and below. Of course, you don't need to listen to everything in order, and you can mix it up, like I usually do. A Disney vibes song, a magical vibes song, a song that suits him, just like a cake recipe. Chef's kiss

I put a lot of effort into it and it's too good to be kept hidden. I listen to it almost everyday lmao (if not everyday)

And now of you excuse me I'm going to retreat to my workshop to cry

thank you

[painsandconfusion]

Dionysus

An episodic continuation of 'I Have a Job For You'

(tw: siege, death, starvation, war, alcohol consumption, so much dread)

“..sire?”

The request was timid. A gentle interruption of the king’s somnolescent pacing. 

He sighed, coming to a stop as his eyes fell on his captain. “Yes?”

“..the water has officially run out.”

The king’s eyes fell upward toward the sky. Toward whatever god might still care about them.

None seemed to. This siege has lasted months now with no response. 

No Ares to grant them strength in battle. No Indra sent them rain as they withered. Kratos sent them no strength to withstand this. Odin took their dead and neglected their war. Minerva refused to send him even a scrap of wisdom - of even the smallest morsel of cleverness to find a way out. Ra bore heat down on them every day, not sparing them once.

Not one single god took up the sword in their name. 

Not one god wanted anything to do with them. 

“..sire?”

Ah yes. The captain was still here. Expecting a response. 

Expecting some kind of divine wisdom.

Expecting him to lead. 

But no gods were guiding him. Not anymore. No voices pulled him toward prosperity, wisdom, or strength. 

His people would starve to death in their homes, wrapped around their loved ones and surrounded by their own filth. 

With a deep, languid breath, he gave the command. “Then open the wine cellars. Our people will drink tonight.”

There was a beat of silence as the captain stared at him. “...wine..sire?” Surely wondering if their king had gone mad. 

“Wine,” he confirmed. He looked back to the captain now, crossing the room to retrieve his crown. “Gather the people and have the last of our stores brought to the castle kitchen and let them know to prepare a feast. Gather the musicians and performers and have everyone in their beset. I don’t want a single crumb left in the mornings when we open the main gates.”

In silence, the captain stood. And in silence, they left again.

The king settled the heavy metal over his skull again, just a thin layer of hair and skin between bone and gold. What once glimmered with warmth now felt so cold at it bruised against him. 

He bore it anyway as he dragged himself for the stairs. To his rooms to find a garish outfit to match. Something with tassels and gold and rich furs.

The Coyote offered them no cunning to escape for this. Hephaestus lent them no aid as their swords and spears broke away under the enemy’s blows. Shiva seemed the only one interested in them, watching their kingdom wither and burn. Jupiter gave them no strength to hold out any longer. 

But tonight at least, they would dance with Dionysis. Just this one last time.

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @treasureguardingdragon @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

[dramashii]

A blessing in disguised; CW: Destined

I wasn't really planning on watching this. I saw it in my homepage while scrolling for dramas to watch. I didn't even read the synopsis nor did I see any trailers prior to watching the 1st ep. I simply clicked on it because I saw it was starring Bai Jing Ting and that is enough of a reason. 12 eps later and I am really enjoying this. You can say I was destined to watch this.

God-Sent Marriage

Destined is 40-ep historical romance Cdrama starring Bai Jing Ting and Song Yi. It's about two unlikely people who got married because of a misunderstanding. Now, they have to embark this crazy journey together called marriage while also solving family, business, and political issues. I've actually only seen this trailer first and I thought this was simply going to be a light-hearted drama. However, this exists, so angst will also be involved in this series.

Bai Jing Ting's character Gu Jiu Si and Song Yi's character Liu Yu Ru are polar opposites. Gu Jiu Si is so chaotic and childish, and doesn't really have many worries as he is the only son of wealthy merchants. Liu Yu Ru, on the other hand, has endured many hardships since she was young because of this she has developed a calm and level-headed personality. Together, they are a match-made in heaven.

This drama is a feast to the eyes. The cinematography is great.

I am a sucker for dramas were the leads get married first and then they fall in love much later on. The first 12 eps are literally an embodiment of this trope. You get to see how their dynamics change from being strangers, to friends, and then to sworn brothers (iykyk). I like how they compromise and at least try to make their marriage work. Liu Yu Ru was supposed to marry her first love, but because of a misunderstanding, she married Gu Jiu Si. She lamented over the what ifs with her first love for one episode and then moved on because she knows there's nothing that could be done, and it's better to try to get along with her husband (which is fair and logical).

The romance is great as leads are both nice to each other. I also enjoy that for the first time in a long time, I actually see a family in a drama that enjoys each other's company. Gu Jiu Si's parents have a great relationship with each other, they love their son, and dotes on their daughter-in-law. It's refreshing to see this.

Another aspect of this show which I enjoy is the different views on marriage. Historically, marriage is a life sentence. At a time when women were mostly at a disadvantage this could be a death sentence. This is exactly what Liu Yu Ru's mother is facing. She has no choice but to be under her husband's whims. But Liu Yu Ru is different because she married into a family that respects the women's contribution in the household. Her mother-in-law holds an influential position in their family business, and even takes Liu Yu Ru under her wing. She guides her and introduces her to the world of trade. Gu Jiu Su is also supportive and encourages her to have her own dreams and ambitions, and not to be shackled in their marriage.

The biggest criticism I have towards this show is the villain. He's your typical villain with a sad backstory who hates the male lead because he wishes to have the life he has. I spoiled myself as to what his motivations are and I am simply annoyed. I wish he would go away but alas, this is not a drama without annoying characters.

But overall, this drama is everything I want in a romance drama. I've seen the trailers for the upcoming episodes and the angst fest will begin. Hopefully, it will still be as good as the 1st 12 eps.

[reviewdiaries]

Nancy x Ace and the case of emotional intimacy in 4x02

The writers are on fire this season, no seriously, they ate a bunch of the unhinged wants from the Nancy Drew fandom and said ‘here, it’s the final season, feast on this!’ Part of me wondered if they would keep the proverbial foot on the gas after that truly what even oh my god final scene of episode one, but oh boy they really came out swinging for episode two.

You know the drill, I get rambly, more beneath the cut.

The tension throughout this episode between Ace and Nancy is absolutely delicious. Whilst I would love to know how that confrontation at Icarus Hall ended, I really love how they open 4x02. Ace isn’t letting Nancy off that easily, not after finally cracking open this slice of honesty at last. He hasn’t physically pushed in again, not since that step back when Nancy told him they were cursed, and it’s a direct contrast to 4x01 how hands off he is in this episode. He doesn’t invade her personal space, he’s restraining himself so hard in the first few scenes not to reach out to her, he knows that having opened the door to this conversation and Nancy’s fears about the curse it would be too easy for her to shut down again, shut him out and refuse to be anywhere near him. He’s having to walk a tightrope of managing his own feelings and trying to get more information and not pushing in the wrong way and losing Nancy completely. 

GIF Credit @whitefluffyyeti

He’s hurt, he’s angry, he wants to scream at the world that he’s finally found out that Nancy loves him and he can’t do anything about it. The physical barrier of the table in this opening scene is a really delightful framing option. They’re talking (sort of) finally, but it’s not a fully open conversation yet, there’s a barrier (literally) blocking them from reaching an understanding. 

GIF Credit @whitefluffyyeti

Ace is desperate - for information, for understanding, for Nancy to stop shutting him out and actually tell him what she knows. He’s had this dumped on him barely twelve hours ago and is still processing. Nancy, meanwhile, has had weeks to work through her feelings and has made a decision for her, without the acknowledgement that it’s more than her in this. Nancy has been blinded by fear to the fact that this cannot just be her choice. They’re a team, they’re a unit, no matter that they cannot be physically close to each other, but they’ve forgotten that in amongst the fear and the anger and they’re not working effectively together.

That’s a running theme throughout - they’re together for a lot of the episode, but not actually working as a team. It’s mostly Bro!Nancy pushing, belittling, ripping those around her down, but after enough sniping Ace starts to give it back. Never enough to hurt Nancy, but enough to rile her, to let her know that he isn’t just going to lie down and take whatever she feels like throwing at him. He’s had weeks of not having her, barely even seeing her, and now suddenly he has all of this new information to work through and it’s not even really Nancy anymore, it’s some Bro version of her and god he just wants his friend back and it hurts.

GIF Credit  @hucklebucket

You see him fading back further and further from the group, not wanting to even engage with her whilst she’s like this, because this isn’t his Nancy, sure he still loves her, but he doesn’t particularly like her right now. What starts out as just Dudebro humour quickly degenerates into verbal and physical abuse and at every turn Ace works to hide his hurt from her, to not let it affect him, to protect Nancy even when she’s trying to kill him.

The tipping point is at the hospital where she accuses him of flirting with the nurse - you can watch him shut down and disengage before walking away. Ace will do a lot for Nancy, Ace would die for Nancy, but this isn’t her. This is some horrible warped version of her and he’s not going to sit around and let her abuse him like this.

He doesn’t want anything from this version of Nancy. Even when she offers to tell him about the time they did get together you can see a flicker, a moment where he files that piece of information away for later because this is new, this is something that he wasn’t aware of, this adds layers and context and confusion to what Nancy has been dancing around all this time, because how could they have had time together? But he doesn’t want to know now, he doesn’t want this Nancy to be the one to tell him, bartering the information away to make him like her again. He wants his Nancy to tell him, he wants it to be a conversation, not bargaining chips and one upmanship.

When she starts trying to physically hurt him he backs away, at no point does he go on the offensive or try to really overpower her. 

GIF Credit  @hypermania

He just tries to get her somewhere where she can’t hurt him or herself. But even when she’s slightly more in control of herself and the first thing she does is apologise to him he still doesn’t engage with her. Doesn’t come down to her level. He hangs back, because this is worse than when she wasn’t spending time with him, this is something twisted and he hates how it makes him feel like he’s the one that swallowed poison. 

That shifts when she vomits. As soon as she’s unwell he can’t help himself, he moves in to check she’s ok, to be there for her. Because there’s a lot of hurt that it’s going to take him a while to move past, but now at least it’s his Nancy back again, and he needs to be close to her - two magnets impossible to keep apart. But he doesn’t talk to her, he’s still angry, still hurt, and yes she’s apologised but it’s not enough to soothe everything else about this god awful day. He uses the others to stay away from her, physically putting distance between them even though Nancy is back to not being able to keep her eyes from him. This will take more than an I’m sorry. This needs honesty, openness, time for the two of them to reforge a connection. They go off together to finish the case, to get closure and a confession from Logan, Ace throwing himself into his role. The car rider over there silent and awkward - this isn’t the time, Nancy is still head half in the case even as she keeps sliding glances to Ace to gauge whether he’s ready to listen, ready to talk, ready to let her back in again.

There’s been a lot of hypothesising about the curse, the parameters of it, and the fact that this forces Nancy to actually communicate for the first time with someone she loves. It’s something she’s been slowly learning to do with those around her, but it hasn’t filtered through into her romantic relationships. Every other relationship we’ve seen her avoid and deflect and outright refuse to engage, but suddenly that’s no longer an option. Her options here are1)  to not engage with Ace, which she tries with varying degrees of success throughout these two episodes, or 2) to actually talk to him and communicate openly. That last scene between them is the most open and vulnerable we’ve ever seen them in reality, and it shows how much growth Nancy has gone through over the course of the show that she now is able to actually talk to Ace and tell him these intimate details.

When she shows up at his door, he doesn’t really react to her joke (yes that’s the jar Bro!Nancy failed to open earlier) and physically flinches away from her as she moves into the apartment. He’s halfway to kicking her out when she finally (finally) begins to talk, to explain how she’s felt all day, and the understanding that not being able to access her own emotions has brought her. She doesn’t get to decide what Ace can and cannot know about this curse. It’s as much his as hers, arguably more his because it’s his life on the line. And yes Nancy has been so hurt and damaged by the other timeline that she’s trying to protect and shut down, but it’s not only her in this and at last she understands that.

At last she offers to tell him everything, and this is his Nancy and his space and it’s the diametric opposite to the night before. It’s light and he can see her and the night before he was filled with need and want and righteous demands for answers. Now it’s quieter, wanting to be with her to understand, to sit with her and talk. Because yes the physical aspects of a relationship are important, but part of what he’s been denied (to both of them over the last few weeks) is the connection and communication. The understanding, the raw truth, stripped back to the essence of each of them. And the relief on his face as Nancy talks to him, as she finally lets him in. The tension drains away and it is a real and palpable thing. There’s still that careful careful distance between them, because now at last Ace understands the need for no physical intimacy, but there is emotional intimacy instead. Hands carefully kept to themselves, eye contact, raw grief and tears. 

GIF Credit  @princessclarke

And Ace acknowledges her pain, they both finally reach a place of understanding for the other. Gone are the demands, the pushes, the refusal to back down. Now is a quieter comfort, a gentle humour, a slow breath out to release the tension. The relief of a wound finally cleansed, of being able to ask Nancy about what happened between them and hear about the good stuff, not just the grief and trauma. Because sure it’s important to talk about that, but they deserve the gentle kindness, the good, the slow slide of waking up and telling him that he smiles in his sleep.

GIF Credit @princessclarke

Nancy is a schoolgirl in love, desperate to talk about her crush. And what a way to talk about it, to actually be able to speak about the things that happened between the two of you with the person they happened with. To be able to use a shorthand that you both understand. To finally fall back and just stare at each other, drink the other in, bask in the closeness that could never have been achieved before the curse. Not like this, not without the physical closeness entwining with it.

GIF Credit  @princessclarke

And that final shot, the framing of the two of them on the two different colours of bedspread. This is the start of something new. This is lancing the infected wound and allowing them to heal. This is hope. Ace is calm and still for the first time, content just to watch, and Nancy’s chest is tight with the wanting and this beautiful blossoming hopeful thing.

GIF Credit  @nacesource

This is finally being on the same page and wanting to try. Because that’s all Ace has been begging for throughout the day, the chance to try. And all Nancy has refused to allow herself the option to hope. This is the start of something beautiful. It won’t all be magically fixed, there’s still going to be heartache and grief and bumps along the way. But this is where it starts, a glorious night spent talking until they fall asleep, baring their souls for the other to finally see fully.

[chuplayswithfire]

i think we all know that episode ten features both Stede and Ed paralleling each other, but what really interests me about the whole thing is that they are moving in reverse from each other, not following the same path but rather tracking backwards.

Ed is at his most emotionally honest and healthy point at the start through about the first half of Episode 10. It might not seem like it on the surface, given the crying, feasting upon of marmalade, depression nesting, and sad poetry writing, but this is Edward Teach for the first time (possibly in his life, but definitely during the season) allowing himself to feel his emotions in the moment without needing to be subject to racist violence or trauma (the French captain using a racial slur, the false kraken) first. Stede broke up with him and instead of putting on a mask until it overwhelms him, he's just sad. He just lets himself be sad, and then he reaches out to other people - Lucius, and then the crew - and he starts to heal.

Is he doing great? Fuck, of course not. The man's just had his heart broken after giving up everything he knows and putting himself out there. He's feeling god awful. He's a wreck. Even when he's cleaning up, and feeling a bit better, it's clear he's still really fucking sad, and clearly his new hopes are fragile considering Izzy will later break them down like a wrecking ball, but in that first half of the episode what we see is Ed suffering and hurt.

And honest about it. No hiding himself. No hiding from himself. He doesn't try to blend in. He doesn't put on a different mask, he doesn't hide away from it. Even without Stede, he's letting himself feel what he wants to feel and react how he wants to react and be the person he wants to be, Edward not just Blackbeard myth and legend. He's acting fully on his personal growth.

Stede on the other hand starts the episode out lying to himself and everyone around him about everything he's feeling. He's regressed to all his worst habits - he's passive aggressive with Mary and avoidant, nosy and invasive, leaning fully into his privilege to dictate to Mary her title (pointing out that Widow Bonnet isn't accurate and that she should change it) and space (being in her painter's studio when she clearly doesn't want him there, and remember, Stede is the one familiar with passive aggression and the rules of society. He knows what he's doing.)

He tries to pretend that everything is normal, giving into his classic trait of avoidance by refusing to properly discuss the issue of his abandoning his family (Mary is the one forced to bring it up! After Stede tries to passive aggressively get her to talk about Doug!) or becoming a criminal or - any of it, really.

And this culminates in two ways: 1) Stede going to that bar and indulging in the worst of himself with those men, betraying Ed for the sake of winning a place amidst men he's never been able to find companionship with and 2) ruining Mary's event with verbal and then physical violence and refusing to discuss THAT either.

for the first - it is difficult to see the way that Stede discusses Ed in that post as anything besides Stede throwing Ed fully under the bus for the sake of his own reputation (and being fully aware of it, which makes him feel worse, which makes him lash out more when he gets to Mary's art show). Stede's been uncomfortable at home, unhappy, has made this choice to rush back and pour himself into a space that's already been filled in and paved over, and it's becoming increasingly clear to him that no matter how much he wants to deny it, he doesn't belong here.

And then along come fellow gentlemen who gas him up, who consider him a hero, who want to hear all about his adventures. He's boasting when we return to the clip, about his duel with Izzy, clearly already deep in his cups given the number of empty tankards around him. When they ask about Blackbeard, leaning in, eager, "Is he as bloodthirsty as everyone says," full of relish and intrigue, Stede responds with truth - "Oh he's absolutely lovely."

And those men falter, their faces struck with confusion, maybe disappointment, and you get a moment of Stede seeing this, that he's losing the crowd, and he says, "Oh and of course a bloodthirsty killer" and immediately there are smiles and impressed nods. This isn't something he said to protect Ed or his reputation - this is something he said to recapture the crowd hanging on his every word, for once listening to him, Stede Bonnet, with respect. No Baby Bonnet here.

Not great Stede!

But then he makes it worse, by adding, "Born of the devil himself."

Born of the devil himself. The ultimate means of othering someone in the Christian world, which, these times were very big on the religion, on the Christianity, on the importance of being children of God, and here is Stede throwing Ed fully under the bus to say that Ed isn't just a bloodthirsty killer, but a monster, a being born from the devil himself.

Stede has personally heard from Ed that these are some of Ed's worst fears about himself. That he's a bad person, a monster, that he's done all these horrible things, and Stede fully throws Ed to that reputation for the sake of getting along with his fellow rich white gentlemen. He is fully putting Ed in the box of the Devil Pyrate Blackbeard for the approval of these men. And he clearly feels pretty bad about it, considering he hastens to say he doesn't want to talk about Ed.

And then we get to his second big hit on his spiral down (and I do love the symbolism, that Stede and Ed both have a two hit spiral down to the bottom). He goes to Mary's art show, drunk as a skunk, to humiliate Mary and make her feel as terrible as he does, because he hates that she's happy.

"And if her husband gave up the sea, surely she should give up the dishonest title, even though she hates my guts. [exaggerated sad face] which is her right."

Oh he can't stand that she's happy. That she gave him that speech and told him she won't blow up her life just because he blew up his (after he blew up hers in the first place!!!)

And then when Doug puts a hand on his shoulder, there's that already classic line - "Unhand me or bleed." - as he tosses him to the table and presses a knife to him. The look of dawning realization.

"Clearly I've had too much to drink. And for that I am sorry. Being home's been quite an adjustment. For both of us! I forgive you by the way. For sleeping with Doug."

This is the lowest Stede can go. This is his bottom drop. This is not an apology for what he said about or to Mary, what he did to Doug. This is an apology for having too much to drink, coupled with a condescending, but we were both in the wrong, equally! Stede doesn't actually face that he's beyond fucked things up until Mary almost kills him and he's forced to come to the realization of ohhhhh shit, she was going to kill me!

Luckily from here, he can make the climb up. And this is partially because Mary is gracious about the whole thing (more than most people would be, to be honest), but also because Stede has a way out. Stede can go back to the sea, and he can go back to his crew, and he can go back to Ed.

He came home, but he can leave again. And he sets things to rights. He talks about his feelings, he speaks to the children and Mary and even Doug, he puts her reputation back to the way it should be and fakes his death and he's able to walk back to a life that he truly wants as a man free of the past.

Now back to Ed.

See, now we're back to that fun reverse parallel. Because in a perfect filming choice, the intersection of Stede and Ed's emotional arcs happens to be the moment when it all hits the crescendo - because Izzy confronts Ed, who is at his best and most free self, at the moment that Stede is torching Mary's life and being his absolutely worse self. And I didn't talk about that scene earlier, but let's talk about it.

Let's talk about Ed is smiling and laughing a little, is cleaning up and restoring the space around him, is giving himself the emotional room to go "Feels nice to tidy up a little, can't believe I was living like this, can you Iz?" and invite a man who has both been his ally and his betrayer in, and Izzy Fucking Hands, lounging in the background, leafing through Stede's book of pirates and anti Blackbeard propaganda, says,

"I'm going to speak plainly." And Ed welcomes this. Ed gives him the space to speak. "I should have let the English kill you." And we see the expression on Ed's face, as his smile drops and his brows furrow. "This, whatever it is you've become, is a fate worse than death."

And Ed tries to laugh it off, a little bitten of tch, shake of the head, close the eyes, and smile again, "Well, I am still, Blackbeard, so -"

And Izzy cuts him off with a growl. Izzy tosses the book. Izzy stomps up to him. Izzy growls out that the English propaganda is the real Blackbeard, not Edward, who's just a "namby-pamby in a silk gown, piiiiining for his boooooyfriend."

And Ed snaps.

Narratively, its the moment when Stede grabs a knife and holds it to Doug's throat.

(Note that they both go for the throat. Constantly paralleling each other.)

From here, while Stede goes on the upswing, Ed goes on the downswing. It's here that he betrays himself and Stede - where Stede tore Ed down to cast him as the monster for the approval of his wealthy white peers, Ed has everything of Stede's cast into the sea, starting with Lucius and then the books and the the knick knacks and finally the crew themselves, save for the ones Ed needs. This is Ed's two part violence - hurting the crew, throwing away Stede's stuff.

(I'm going to be honest, I don't read cutting off Izzy's toe as an act of violence, that seemed very much like an act of acknowledgement for and too Izzy and the man he wants Ed to be, the man he worships. It's a classic Blackbeard thing to do, cut off a man's toe and make him eat it for a laugh, and Izzy wants Blackbeard.)

And Ed has people around him too, people who care about him, but they're Stede's people first. We haven't seen Ed getting close to the crew aside from Lucius and Frenchie - and where Frenchie was validating Ed on the French ship, Lucius has been Stede's staunch partner in romance. It's really clear why one goes and one stays. The person that Ed has who "cares" about Ed, is Izzy, who this whole performance is for.

So we end where we began.

One protagonist at his most emotionally healthy and honest. One protagonist drowning in his worst state to date.

God I fucking love this show.