#he cared for her when she was an eunuch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stsgooo · 6 months

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Clumsiness.

✩࿐ summary: maomao notices that the eunuch's behavior is odd recently. she's set on discovering the root of the cause.

warning(s): idiots in love, slight angst, mentions of bullying, fluffy, maomao pov. wc; 3.1k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader

a/n: binge watched all of tad last night and wanted to write smth for jinshi just because i have my weaknesses. i don't know exactly what this is except random rambles. anywayyy, i haven't read the manga yet so please no spoilers :3

m.list ao3

THERE'S VARIOUS THINGS THAT MAOMAO SIMPLY DOESN'T CARE FOR. The uncomfortable mornings where it's too chilly, the work she catches after one of the servants loves her ideas, and idle chatter that comes with silence. However, the thing she doesn't care for the most is when Eunuch Jinshi decides to make his random and surprise appearances.

It usually brought trouble and a headache for her. His smiles and violet eyes staring into her very soul. She never looked forward to them as it always accompanied some random job in another part of the palace she simple didn't like. Or he would ask of her some impossible task that not even the gods could grant him. Maomao could do without Jinshi's behavior.

However, she could easily recognize when he wasn't acting himself. On this day particularly, she was especially aware of Jinshi's lack of excitement.

She was called and pulled aside from her duty's in the Jade Pavilion to report to Jinshi's quarters. She was quick and made little pause in her stride over. A simple routine that they both silently agreed to. He would call and she would make her way over as quickly as possible.

It was when she arrived, she realized things were not to routine.

Jinshi was laying face flat against his desk, unmoving except for his breathing. Usually, he'd be sat up, smirk on his lips, and his legs crossed as he regarded her smugly. But now, it was like she wasn't even in the room as he made small groaning sounds of disdain, his fingers tangled into his tresses as he gripped his scalp.

He was definitely not acting like himself from the bat.

"Xiaomao, thank you for coming on such short notice." Gaoshun greeted her with a small bow, offering her a sympathetic glance as he turned his attention to Jinshi. "Jinshi-sama had a matter he'd like you to take care of."

Maomao raised her eyebrows, eyes cutting back to Jinshi who remained unmoved. Is he going to present the matter himself? She thought, watching as Gaoshun inched closer, nudging the younger man's shoulder with his elbow. He seems quite the mess.

"Apothecary," Jinshi's voice was muffled as he spoke, his head still tucked into his arms. Maomao looked to Gaoshun who just sighed heavily, ducking his head. "A servant from the Garnet Pavilion has fallen ill, I'd like for you to help her feel better."

"What's her symptoms?" Maomao asked, eyes watching the pathetic man flatly.

He tensed, his head moving to peek at her from between his arms. "I fear this is more a matter of the mind."

She frowned. "I can't cure the mind, Jinshi-sama."

He finally pushed himself to sit up, an indignant pout on his lips. "I thought you could do anything." He retorted smartly.

"I never said that."

Honestly, this man asked too much of her too quickly. It was enough that he asked her to solve murders of high ranking military officials, but it felt a little much to ask her to cure some girl's mental ailments. A random girl who had probably contributed to the near death of Lady Lihua at that. Maomao already felt a vague frustration fill her at the thought. Maybe it was one of the girls she had the pleasure intimidating.

She was going to decline when she spotted the look in his eyes. Not the flirtatious or rather perverted glint it usually had, but a desperate one.

"Can you at least try?" He almost sounded defeated, his shoulders hunched and eye bags heavy.

Maomao still felt the overwhelming urge to give him a hard time. "Try what, exactly?"

He released a frustrated grumble, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maybe lend an ear, or offer some type of comfort? Anything that will possibly ease her nerves." He waved a flippant hand around, eyebrows knitted together. "It's making me wo... it's making Lady Lihua unsettled."

Maomao couldn't help the interest that came with his unspoken words. He was worried? It wasn't uncommon, nor did it seem that he would hide his concern for others. But the mere fact that he had corrected himself and tried to cover it up, piqued her curiosity and interest.

Either way, she had no choice.

Maomao tucked her hands into her sleeves, bowing. "I can make an attempt. Now, if you'll excuse me." She turned away, barely missing Jinshi's hopeful and beaming expression. She was about to exit when she happened to glance towards the sitting area, where a tea set sat, broken and contents seeping into the floor. Her eyebrows raised. "You'll carpet is going to stain."

She paid no mind to the loud groan and thud of Jinshi's head as she exited.

It took Maomao a while to find the girl that had Jinshi worried and she had learned quite a bit about the worrisome girl while on her search.

She had been in the palace for a long time, since she was a young child. Her work had mostly consisted of cleaning clothes and mending. Until she had caught the attention of Lady Lihua a few months ago while she was in recovery. Supposedly, she had started to bring an arrangement of flowers whenever she brought clothes. The kindness hadn't gone unnoticed. She had supposedly been accepted into Lady Lihua's personal servants. Much to the chagrin of the other servants.

It didn't take a genius to detect the disdain and disgust in the servants voices when Maomao had inquired about her.

She talks to herself more than anyone else, stated one with an eyeroll.

Her routine is more important than Lady Lihua's wishes. Our poor lady. Mourned another.

She's so on edge, it's really easy to get her worked up. It's not our fault if she breaks something. Snapped another.

General consensus, this servant was a problem.

However, it was what Lady Lihua said herself that caught Maomao's attention.

She had stumbled across the concubine during her search, the woman flanked by two of her servants. She looked to enjoying a pleasant day and appeared slightly happy to see Maomao, going as far to inquire what she was doing over in her pavilion. When Maomao informed her of her task, she was interested to see the small pinch between her brow.

Ah, Y/N, I haven't seen her much today. I sent her to help with mending clothes. She's kind, just... I hope.... Well, I hope you can find her and bring her back. Lady Lihua offered little else to guide Maomao, but she could see the vague concern, the worry in the woman's eyes. She also saw that disgust in her companions eyes.

Who exactly was this servant?

Maomao found herself in the washing area. It was mostly silent, most of the girls either having dinner, or in bed. She made her way to the back where one of the few stragglers sat alone, sniffling as she scrubbed away at a stained robe...

A robe that looked oddly similar to Jinshi's.

In all honesty, she wasn't sure how to approach this. As she spotted the red shamed cheeks and the tears that silently and boldly made their way down the woman's cheeks, Maomao usually had something psychical to cure. An aliment that weighed heavily on their health, that was life or death. She could make a medicine for that. A drink, a food, a cream-- something that would satisfy the monster resting in someone's body.

The mind, though, the mind simply was a territory that Maomao never touched. Much too difficult, much too complicated, it was unknown territory. She couldn't see things from their point of view.

Just try lending an ear.

Maomao cleared her throat, feeling a speck of sympathy as she watched the girl tense, head snapping over to stare back with wide eyes. "Hi, are you the servant from the Garnet Pavilion?"

If possible, her eyes widened more, her hands clutching the robe to her chest. "Y-Yes..." she uttered, watching Maomao closely. "You're that apothecary everyone's been talking about..."

Not a question, but an observation.

Said apothecary nodded in return, "Yes."

The girl shook her head, "I'm not injured! I swear, I-I was foolish and if I was injured, then I would surely deserve it!" Her face was a deep crimson, her lips trembling, and eyes watering. It was obvious she was attempting desperately to push down the tears, but failing miserably. "I-I'm quite alright!"

"You don't look it." Maomao responded back flatly. "Jinshi-sama sent me."

The girl looked appalled, her back straightening and the tears falling freely now. "J-Jinshi?!" She exclaimed, clutching the stained robe against her chest, aghast and sickly looking as she panted. "O-Oh, I've done it now. I've humiliated myself! I'm going to be punished! Jinshi didn't deserve that! I'm so sorry."

Maomao blinked at her, eyebrows raised high at the reaction. She didn't entirely blame the girl for reacting so brashly at the mention of Jinshi. She would probably do the same if she was having a horrible day and he'd been brought up. Possibly the only person she wouldn't want to hear about as she's actively in the throes of a breakdown of some sort.

She walked forward, sitting down beside her as the girl seemed to continue her one sided conversation with herself. Her eyes wide and unrelenting as she stared at the ground below. Maomao watched her with a dent between her brow, vaguely fascinated by the panic and mostly disturbed by the anger towards herself. The mini glare not directed to anyone except herself.

She'd seen women be harsh on themselves. Seen what it could do to a person. Maomao could see it in the girl beside her now. The edge of a line that she wasn't sure if she should cross.

"I-I just...." The poor girl trailed off, her hands falling back to her lap as she stared at the robe. "I'm so clumsy.... and terribly embarrassing.... and I-I was just trying to pour some tea, then...oh, how pathetic."

"It was an accident, wasn't it?" Maomao asked softly, watching the girl's reaction closely.

She seemed to remember Maomao was with her, blinking, her face growing a shade darker. "What?"

"Whatever you did, it was an accident, wasn't it?" She repeated.

The girl clenched her jaw, looking away once again. "It's always an accident. I never do anything right. The Emperor is bound to notice and then I'll be punished because I'm so--"

"Jinshi-sama didn't send me to punish you or to check if you should be." The girl blinked, staring at her with wide eyes now. Maomao could see the barely concealed shock in her eyes, the way she seemed to relax slightly. The apothecary sighed heavily, turning her attention elsewhere. "He doesn't seem the type to punish anyone for a little mistake. Especially, when he's the same..."

The last part was uttered to herself and the girl didn't seem to pick it up as she pressed her lips together. A contemplative look on her expression. "I-I know, but.... still, I feel so guilty. I've put such a heavy burden onto Jinshi, convincing Lihua-sama to take me in... to not complain too harshly... I never wanted this..."

Maomao wouldn't even try to understand the broken speech, instead her mind was focused on that little slip. Jinshi convinced Lady Lihua to take this girl in? A extreme kindness. A extreme kindness that would allow this girl to make mistakes, to try her hardest and fail, and not suffer extreme consequences. Maomao couldn't help the suspicious kick in her chest. As she stared at the rambling girl. Why would Jinshi do that for her as an eunuch? How did he have that type of pull? Or, more correctly, what did he have over Lady Lihua to pull something like this off?

Her attention diverted to the robe and she huffed-- it's was Jinshi's. She was the cause of the tea mess. The cause of Jinshi's red face, his low mood, and the worry on his face.

Could he, perhaps..... Oh, what a development for a eunuch.

"Are they cruel to you?" Maomao cut into her rambles once again.

"Who?"

"The other servants. They can be cruel."

There was a prolonged silence. Maomao didn't dare interfere or break with the concentration. Her thoughts were wild and she was trying to grasp one that would benefit exactly what the apothecary was searching for. A string of thought that was sensical and helpful.

"Yes... so cruel," her lips wobbled again, she sniffled and tried to push the emotions away. "I didn't even do anything and they were so cruel. I tried telling Jinshi, but he's done... done so much for me, I can't throw that away. I can't take advantage of his kindness."

"Even if it was kindness now, how is feeling like this any type of comfort? Or kindness?" Maomao stood up, waving a hand. "You don't have to feel like this. Like you have to suffer for his feelings. If you're close, tell him that you liked your prior job, or ask for another."

The girl blinked slowly, lazily, a new exhaustion in her eyes as she regarded the other. "W-What's your name?"

She straightened. "Maomao." She bowed.

The girl stood, her hands tucked into her sleeves, she bowed in return. "Thank you, Maomao. It's been my pleasure to meet you."

Things seemed to return to normal, the routine was back in place, and Maomao hadn't been tasked with taking care of crying servants. Her conversation with Jinshi afterwards had been short and straight to the point.

Did you speak with her? Jinshi had been sitting at his desk pleasantly, ignoring the overwrought expression on Gaoshun's face.

Yes. Maomao had answered, eyeing Gaoshun oddly as he shook his head.

Jinshi perked up, And? What did she say?

I believe she's going to speak to you directly when she has the chance, Jinshi-sama. She informed him instantly.

Jinshi had beamed in a way that made Maomao weary, watching as he happily threw himself from his chair and up, already walking towards the door. Well, I'll just find her myself! Thank you, Apothecary!

She didn't get to say anything in return as he vanished around the door. Gaoshun offered his sympathies before running to follow the man out.

Maomao was just glad to have things back to normal. That's what she thought about as she approached Jinshi's quarters. Normalcy was welcomed and her heart was happy to return to things she knew. Medicine and the frolicking in the mini patches of growth she could take herbs from. Things were normal.

As Maomao approached, she was skeptical to enter as she heard a crash.

Okay, maybe not entirely normal.

She knocked on the door, hoping to hear that Jinshi was busy, but the door was opened and Gaoshun stood there with a thin smile.

"Xiaomao, thank you for coming." He bowed and stepped aside to let her inside.

When Maomao entered, she was half tempted to turn back around and leave.

Jinshi's face was stuck in a frozen state of shock, a crimson shade and his jaw dropped. He was sitting on the couch and his hands were up. In front of him, on her knees, was Y/N, frantically rubbing at his robe while apologizing profusely. She didn't sound like she was crying, but still sounded extremely embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Jinshi! My shoes are a tad big-- No, I'm not making an excuse!" She frantically tried to explain, pulling back to stare up at Jinshi with wide eyes. He remained unmoved, just making small noises of distress. "Jinshi, are you alright...?"

"I-I..I..." Jinshi just blinked at the wall across from him.

Maomao turned to Gaoshun, expression flat, "Can I come back later?"

Gaoshun looked ready to respond when Y/N spun around, her expression pulled up with delight and a beaming smile on her face. "Maomao!" She left Jinshi to his shock to wrap her arms around the younger girl (by one year). A tight hug that was unrelenting and conveying her exact emotions of pure elation. "My savior!"

Savior? Maomao thought as she blinked, arms stuck at her side. What is she even doing here?

She pulled back, placing her hands on her shoulder's, squeezing. "Thank you so much, Maomao! If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be blessed!" She continued on with her delight.

"Blessed?" Maomao audibly questioned, eyebrows furrowed and raised.

She nodded in response, smiling happily as she clutched onto Maomao's hands. "Yes! You gave me the confidence to tell Jinshi about my unhappiness! He's allowing me to work at his attending maid." She informed gracefully, sounding more happy and carefree than she had in the washing area the weeks prior.

Maomao wouldn't admit it, but it made her lips twitch upwards.

Y/N suddenly paled, turning back around. "Oh, Jinshi, I'll get something to clean up with!" And she darted out the room before Jinshi could give any type of response.

Maomao turned her attention to Jinshi with a tilted head, finding great amusement in his embarrassment. "You must be really fond of her if you gave her a job here." She observed.

If possible, Jinshi's complexion darkened further, his posture straightening. "Pardon?" He squawked, eyes wide as they stared at the younger girl.

She didn't understand why he was acting like she had said something scandalous. It wasn't uncommon for someone to grow fond of another's presence. Even if they were stripped of their manhood and promised to the Emperor for life. Y/N was kind enough and Maomao assumed they were friends of some kind to have Jinshi calling in favors of some kind.

Still... his reaction...

"You two seem like good friends." Maomao clarified.

A weight seemed to lift of his shoulders as he leaned back into the couch. "Yes, I suppose we are." His voice was a mere utter, soft and distant. It appeared that he was contemplating something forgotten or something that he often thought about but pushed into the back of his mind.

Y/N reentered with a cloth and small basin of water. She returned to Jinshi's side who stared at her with a blush and wide eyes. The attention he gave her was close and unwavering. No type of falter and no distraction that could possibly take away his attention. She appeared completely oblivious as she scrubbed away at the stain on his robe resting on his thigh.

Maomao narrowed her eyes on the glitter in Jinshi's eye, ready to make a comment, when Gaoshun placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll inform you of the favor, Xiaomao." And he tugged her away.

However, Maomao thought endlessly about the expression on Jinshi's face. The kindness he exhibited for the girl much too clumsy for her own good. The tenderness he regarded her with. It was almost as if... Well, that couldn't be right.

It was almost as if Jinshi liked Y/N. In a more than friendly way.

Maomao scoffed at the thought, laying down in her bed. Her pa always said she was too speculative. Much too whimsical.

The man was an eunuch after all.

#✩࿐ t writes #jinshi #maomao #the apothecary diaries #jinshi x reader #jinshi x you #jinshi x y/n #the apothecary diaries x reader #the apothecary diaries x you #the apothecary diaries imagine #the apothecary diaries fic #jinshi fic

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megamindsecretlair · 5 months

Text

The King and I, Part 4

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT AND ANGST. Mentions of violence, forceful touching. PIV, Fingering and oral (fem receiving) , all consensual. Doesn't follow canon of the movie.

Summary: You hid in your room unwilling to witness any budding love between King Ghezo and his new bride. You hid in your room until you could not take the loneliness anymore and decided to not let this define you. An unexpected conversation allows you to see things differently.

Word Count: 5,636k

A/N: What a way to come back from being sick, I hope I still got it LOL. This one definitely had to marinate because he needed to come correct! I hope you enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

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You hated her. You hated everything she represented. You were sick to your stomach at the mere thought of her hands all over him, her laughter making him smile. At the thought of her sitting in “your spot” with the King, watching the sunrise that she’s probably seen a hundred times by now.

You spent the majority of your days in your room avoiding them. You took your meals in your room and spent your days reading or looking out over your balcony. You didn’t care what people thought.

You were a mountain and no one could scale it if you didn’t wish it so. You were unyielding. You were…lonely.

The King had been a saving grace from that loneliness. You finally belonged to someone and that feeling was invaluable to you. Someone would actually care if you fell off the face of the world. Or so you thought.

Tomorrow was the wedding and you were expected to attend, just like the first wife. Was this why she was so silent? Did she silently hate you that whole time? Forced to concede her spot at the table to someone newer, younger?

You sat on your bed with your knees drawn. You stared at the dress you were expected to wear at the wedding. You hated that dress. You wanted to rip it to shreds and throw it at the King’s feet.

The anger and hate felt better than the burning sadness in your chest. How it burrowed. How it ate at every vein and cell in your body. The sadness took everything. It stole your breath, your dreams, and your very will. You cried yourself to sleep every night this week.

Every morning, the King knocked on your door and begged you to listen to him. To talk to him. He asked you if you would kill him today. You were too sad to entertain your little game.

In one fell swoop, he gave you the greatest night of your life and the worst morning you ever lived through.

You couldn’t get over the embarrassment and shame. How everyone stood and looked at you while he introduced…her. They were all in on it, meeting her, and talking to her. No one ever did anything like that for you.

You were tossed like garbage at his doorstep. There was no grand welcoming. Just a sassy eunuch who saw you for the common village girl you were.

Fresh tears fell from your eyes but you wiped them away. Fuck this. You did not break.

You did not break under your Father’s cruel hands and words. You did not break when your Mother begged you to accept the latest farm owner, sheep herder, or market owner who dared ask your Father for your hand in marriage. You did not break when men put their hands on you when your Father wasn’t looking. You did not break when girls in the village would spit on you, tear your hair, or call you names to your face. You did not break when they would trip you and make you spill buckets full of water. You did not break when you had to turn around and go back to the river to fill them up again. You did not break.

You got out of bed and called for your servant. She entered a moment later, eyeing you wearily. You had been icy towards her and her attempts to help. You apologized and she helped you get dressed in a bright orange dress and wrap your hair up in a scarf. You left the room, breathing fresh air for the first time all week.

You did not care if you ran into the King and his new little bride. Let her have him. You only wished he planted a baby inside of you already so that you fulfilled your duty as a wife and he had no more cause to touch you.

You kept your head held high as you made your way to the training grounds. The sounds of clashing swords met you first as you rounded the corner. Even with all these people in the palace, you were still alone.

You took up your post and watched the Agojie run through their training drills. You watched as they sliced up straw dummies. As they practiced with swords. As they drilled, taking each other down. Their ferocity gave you chills.

After they dueled, they always helped each other stand with jokes and a smile. Through sweat and tears, they continued through, bonding in ways you could only look at. Never participate in.

The sun reached its peak, so you decided to move on. You needed to stretch your bones. Feel the grass beneath your feet. Remember that you were somebody before the King and you remain somebody after.

In the palace gardens, you circled the wide space looking at all of the exotic flowers. They bloomed and stretched towards the sun. You walked around the path, scrunching the grass beneath your toes. As far as sensations went, you preferred the sand. Maybe you could visit the sandy beach tonight.

No one cared where you went or what you did. That thought still made you sad but you could also think of it another way. No one was watching you. There was freedom in that. You could move through the halls with no one to gauge your every footfall.

You rounded the base of a thick tree and nearly stepped on the first wife’s hand. “Oh! I’m sorry!” You stepped back and she looked up at you.

She was sitting in the grass with a baby in her lap. Her other son toddled after a butterfly.

“I’ll leave,” you said.

“It’s okay to love him, you know,” she said. You turned back around and looked at her. She adjusted the squirming baby in her arms. You finally recognized that she was breastfeeding.

“What?” You asked.

“It’s okay to love the King.” She continued to adjust the baby until it latched onto a nipple and settled down. She cooed to him and encouraged him. You looked at her face. She still looked as calm and blank as she ever did. This was perhaps the first time you ever heard her speak.

She was silent during the council meetings. Silent at breakfast. At least this answered your questions on if she could even speak.

You dropped to your knees beside her and absently picked at the grass. “How can you not hate me?”

She smiled at the toddler as it giggled and fell back on his butt. He climbed to his feet, little face concentrated as you’d often seen the King look, and then chased after the butterfly again.

“I have no hate in my heart for something I cannot control. I knew I would not be his only wife, the only bearer of his children. He is a King. He is expected to have many wives to show how rich he is. How prosperous. He is to be surrounded by it,” she said.

“Didn’t you want to tear my eyes out at breakfast?” You asked.

She giggled and it was a light, tinkling sound that made you smile with her. You didn’t feel like you were being mocked or talked down to. In a lot of ways, she made you think of your best friends back in the village. You’d give anything to talk to them right now.

“You were enjoying your marriage. You are supposed to kiss your husband,” she said and shook her head. “Kissing him takes nothing from me. Being in his bed does not mean he will not still come to mine.”

You were not as gracious. The thought of him being in anyone else’s bed made you sick with anger. Like you wanted to light the whole place on fire and let it burn. What she was saying was no different than what the King had told you. He had a special relationship with her as he hoped to have with you. As he will have with…her.

“Why are you speaking to me now?” You asked as you continued to pick at the grass.

“Why did it take so long for you to speak to me?” She asked and shrugged. “In a lot of ways, you are still young. Your emotions pull you through the world. You had to experience all of it before you were open to anything I had to say,” she said.

She moved the baby to her shoulder and placed a cloth there. She tapped on the baby’s back.

A fire boiled in your gut and you wanted to call her names. You wanted to scream and rage that she didn’t know you. She had no idea what all you’d been through to bring you to this point. It wasn’t her damn business what you did with the King. But you swallowed it all back down.

You needed this connection to someone else. To someone who’d been through this already. “Alright then, what is it that you have to say?”

“It is okay to love the King. You may think that you only get a piece of him because he gives pieces of himself to the land, to the kingdom, to the council, to the Agojie, to the Oyo, to me. He gives all of himself to the land, the council, to me, to you. He is who he is,” she said.

You laughed bitterly and rolled your eyes. “Did he put you up to this?”

She smiled. “The King cannot make me do what I do not wish to. I wish to not live in a bitter household with slammed doors and a sad King. I like my King happy. You make him happy,” she said.

The toddler fell forward and began crying. You moved to get up but she held out her hand. “He will be alright,” she said and waved him off. You watched as the baby cried and cried, looking towards the first wife. When he realized that she wasn’t getting up, his cries slowed. Then he sniffled and hiccuped until he wiped his eyes, stood up, and kept moving.

“How can you be so calm about this?” You asked. You were about to explain further, that she seemed so knowledgeable about…everything. But she looked at you and smiled.

“I will spare you the details of how I got here, but you can picture it,” she said. She held out her arm. There were gouges, scratches, and burns marring her skin that made you hiss as you looked at them. “I’ve already survived the worst things men can do to women and I’m still here. I’m happy, I’m fed, I have two beautiful sons. I’m safe.

“But do not think for one second that I am calm. I am expected to push these children out for a man in constant danger from enemies. To political rivals or discontent in the palace. One hint of weakness and they will come for my babies. Or, they will grow up and be expected to give their lives for this kingdom. They will be cut down or full of holes from those bullets the devils brought with them. I am the furthest from calm. Because if I lose my babies, as it stands, the King will lose his hold on this kingdom. You have not given him sons. This new bride may or may not, remains to be seen. And he is the best king we have seen in a long time.”

“So I am to be a broodmare no matter what,” you spat.

“You are to be a wife to your husband! And the only one making it difficult is you! And your childish notion that you are supposed to be the only one he cares for. It is not all or nothing! You cared for your Mother and Father, didn’t you? Your friends? Your family? Some knot-headed little boy who smiled at you from time to time? Did you expect to be the only one they cared for as well?”

It may be childish but it wasn’t a stupid notion. After being picked last your whole life, it was difficult to conceive of a world where you weren’t the only person in your husband’s life.

It was not uncommon for regular men to have more than one wife. The really wealthy ones took more wives to basically create a labor source for their businesses. Some chose to only have one partner, like your parents, and look how miserable your mother was. Perhaps she would have been better had your father had multiple wives.

Then again, your father was so evil, it was a wonder he managed to trap your mother in marriage. He was not capable of love in his heart. And you would not wish him on anyone else. You would have liked to have siblings though. Perhaps you would have learned to share better.

“You’re an annoying older sister I never had,” you told her.

She laughed and it transformed her whole face. She looked much younger and softer as she did so, throwing her head back. “You are a stubborn younger sister I wish I had,” she said.

Your chest swelled with an inexplicable feeling of closeness. She held out her hand and you took it. She squeezed it. “It can start with us. We don’t have to be enemies,” she said.

You told her your name. She smiled. “I’m Ayi,” she said.

Topics moved on to much better things like her children, the Agojie. You did mention some things about your upbringing. Your story became much clearer once she realized that you were an only child. It wasn’t by choice. In fact, it was a constant source of irritation with your father.

The sun was starting to disappear in the sky. You had been out with her all day long and hadn’t realized it. Her sons were growing sleepy and it was time for them to eat and go to sleep. She asked that you at least kept an open mind. She didn’t like seeing her husband pouting into his breakfast.

You did take some pleasure in that. You didn’t doubt his feelings towards you, you only wished that he had been more upfront with you. This self-imposed exile was more for you to get a handle on your emotions. To have time to sift through your thoughts and feelings so that you could examine each one with care.

But you’d be a liar if you weren’t grateful that he hurt, even just a little. It was a rotten thing to wish for your husband, but it was true. You wanted him to feel a fraction of what you felt this past week. The pain, hurt, and shame at being made a fool of.

As if your thoughts summoned him, King Ghezo stood outside your room. His head was down and pressed against the door. His hands were planted on either side. He wore dark blue robes today filled with intricate square designs. His hair looked soft enough to sleep against and your fingertips ached with the memory of running your hands through it.

You stopped short to look at him but he must have heard you because he looked up. He faced you and took a few steps forward but you stepped back. You weren’t ready to face him. You weren’t prepared to see him just yet. You thought you’d see him tomorrow, during the wedding as you tried not to puke through the whole thing.

“I thought you were inside,” he said. His voice was soft. Your chest ached. His voice was one of the things you’d grown to look forward to hearing. Not hearing it these past few days hurt more than you were willing to admit.

“If I interrupted a speech, continue,” you said.

“That was not how I intended you to find out.”

“Did you know that you had already procured another wife while you were fucking me?” You asked.

His face twisted up and he sucked his teeth. “Don’t say it like that,” he said.

“Like what? Isn’t that what it was? Were you not fucking me while you were thinking of getting a new wife as soon as we were done? Fucking a baby into me so that you could move on and make more?”

“Do you want this conversation where everyone can hear?” He asked.

“They hear everything else.” You folded your arms across your chest and wrapped anger around you like a cloak.

The King took a few strides forward and you stood your ground as long as you could stand it. When he got within arm’s reach, you stepped away.

“Will you not even let me touch you?” He asked.

“Answer my questions,” you said.

“After everything we shared, do you think I was only fucking you? Is that really what you believe?” He asked.

It was hard to look him in the eyes because he looked so genuine. So genuinely hurt that you thought so little of him. But words meant nothing to you. They never did. Actions always spoke louder than words.

“How long did you know that she was coming before you climbed in my bed?”

“I have been in negotiations with her father for months before you came into my life. But we had months still before we could come to be allies against the Oyo. When he heard that I married you, he panicked. We tried to assuage his fears but he is…a strange man. He sent her anyway. I had planned to tell you while we were at the beach,” he said.

“So you waited until she was here to tell me?”

“How was I supposed to know that she’d show up the next day or that you would let me touch you that night? What can I say to make you believe me?”

“I want the truth!” Tears were starting to burn in your eyes. You hated this. You hated feeling like you were on opposite ends again when you had found your way to trust him. To love him.

“Have I not given you everything you wanted, eh? You asked for space, I gave it. You asked for patience, I gave it. You said I earned your love and you won’t even let me kiss you. You hid all week from me. I am your husband!”

“You are my King!”

The King reared back as if you’d slapped him. “I am your husband!”

“You are my King!” You stepped away and he followed you until your back hit a wall. You thought you were stepping back in a straight line, but he had backed you into a corner at an angle. Your hands dug into the stonework, hands trembling.

“You want the truth? The truth is that I did not know she would arrive so soon. I thought I had more time. I thought I could spend more time with you, while you looked at me with love still in your heart. I did not know that you would let me touch you, let me take you to bed. That you would share your body with me. If I am guilty of anything, it is being selfish. Selfish with every little bit of yourself you’ve given me. I want more. I want to know your every thought, every smile, every word that crosses your lips. If you wish to kill me, then go ahead,” he said.

He stepped back and took off his robes, throwing it on the ground. His chest heaved with the passion of his words. He opened his arms and looked at you.

“Finish the job we joke about too often.” He slapped his chest. “Stab me in the heart that beats for you. Stab me in the chest so that I can have a wound outside that matches the wound inside at the thought of never touching you again. Never kissing you. I have changed so much about how I do things, for you. I am a King. I do not have to explain myself to anyone. And yet I will explain it all to you if you wish!”

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as you watched him and listened to him. You didn’t even know why you were crying. He was offering you everything on a platter and you did not know how to cross the gap to him. As if there were invisible hands wrapped around you, pulling you from him, keeping you from just flinging yourself into his arms.

Your Father always said that you made things difficult. Ayi said the same thing. You didn’t trust when things were easy. If things were, it could be taken away just as easily.

The King got to his knees at your prolonged silence. Flickering candles in the hallway danced across his skin. His eyes were narrowed and focused on you as he looked up at you.

“Do you wish me to beg? To plead? To send her away? Ask me. Ask me to send her away and I will spite a kingdom for you. I cannot explain why you affect me in such ways. But I am here on my knees the night before a wedding, wanting you.”

You got to your knees as well. You scooted close to him and looked him in the eyes. “I want the truth from here on out. I…will get used to you having more wives or children. I won’t like it. But I don’t like to be blindsided and made a fool of. Can you promise me that?”

You were tired of fighting. Tired of trying to remain so strong that no one could knock you down. There was no one here to tear you down. There was no Agojie waiting in the winds to kill you. If you were lonely, it was because you made yourself lonely. And it didn’t have to be like that. You had Ayi and you had the King.

“I promise,” he said. “I vow to you as your husband.”

You kissed his cheek. “Then I will choose to forgive that you waited until the morning after loving me to tell me you’re getting married,” you said.

He sighed and dropped his head. “Can I make it up to you in a different way?” He asked.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “How will you do that?” You asked.

A mischievous glint entered his eyes as he pressed his lips to yours. You sighed, instantly melting into the kiss. You missed his lips on yours. His arms wrapped around your body as he held you closer, tighter. Your arms wrapped around his neck and clung to him while he kissed you. While you felt just how much he missed you with every pass of his tongue against yours.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there kissing him, but you never wanted to get up. Your knees protested otherwise. You shifted one too many times and the King finally picked you up, never breaking your kiss. He pressed your back into the wall, holding you up and kissing the absolute breath from you.

His hands cupped your ass, squeezing you. You moaned into his mouth. He never failed to ignite something deep within your core. A hunger that simmered just below the surface until you were able to draw it out with his lips on yours. His hands on your body. You’d only had him once and it wasn’t nearly enough.

He moved you, somewhere finding the energy to open your door and push inside. He closed the door with his foot and then walked you to your bed. He placed you onto it, your back hitting the soft cushion.

“Let me give you the wedding night we should have had,” he whispered.

Your balcony was open as it usually was, blowing a soft breeze into your room. It felt amazing over your feverish skin. The candles were lit, thanks to your servant, the covers turned down just waiting for you to get inside. You were thankful that you weren’t in here alone.

You nodded. “Please, I’d like that, husband,” you said.

The King smiled and covered you with his body. He was heavy and you made an oof sound underneath him, but you clung to him so that he wouldn’t let up. You liked being crushed by him. You rubbed your body against him like a cat, needing to feel him everywhere.

He took his time kissing you, content to just lay there with your legs wrapped lazily around his hips. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb lightly rubbing your cheek. Your hands grazed his back, feeling the wide expanse of him. The broadness. You lost yourself in just touching him. Feeling him. He was as close as possible and he was yours.

It could have been hours you spent there kissing him yet it felt like none passed at all. Your lips turned numb from the brutal heat of his kisses. His lips moved downward, trailing liquid fire down your jaw and neck. He planted kisses there as well as his hand moved lower to grab your ass again. Squeeze your thigh.

Your chorus of moans seemed to only pitch higher as he moved his hand back up to unwrap your dress and reveal your breasts. He took his time worshiping them. Squeezing them and suckling them into his mouth. His tongue flicked over your nipples causing your thighs to tighten around his hips. If it weren’t for his body in the way, you’d be squeezing them shut needing some type of relief or friction.

Your clit throbbed the longer he took his sweet precious time with your nipples. He rolled one between his fingers and you couldn’t help moving, stretching, needing him to do more.

“Is there a problem, wife?” He asked.

“More,” you moaned.

He smiled against your breast, licking the underswell of it. He pinched your nipple and you cried out at the unexpected bite of pain. “I think I like you twisting like this,” he said.

“Husband,” you moaned in warning. You would not last like this. This was too much. Too much sensation and teasing and he hadn’t even touched your wet pussy yet. You felt the arousal slowly leaking from you. You needed to feel him inside of you, filling you up.

“Wife,” he mocked by mimicking your moan. He kissed his way down to your stomach. His hands left your breasts, moving further south to tease at your entrance. His hand played with your damp curls and you hissed, loving and hating that he was finally touching where you wanted him to.

He nibbled on your lower stomach and you moaned, your hands digging into his curls. He lifted his head and looked at you as his fingers moved between your folds and found your clit. Your mouth dropped open as he played with it, swirling your arousal all around sloppily.

“Love that face you make, wife,” he said.

You fought to look him in the eyes and let him see you. See how he was making you feel. You didn’t know what to do or how to make him feel just as good. But that would come in time. You had many years with him. Many years to learn each other’s bodies.

You bit your lip and moaned as he rubbed his thumb around your clit. It was slow and lazy as if he had all night to bring you pleasure. The stirrings of your climax tighten your belly and you flopped onto the bed, unable to keep eye contact. You let yourself feel his hands on you. His lips returned to your belly as you tensed up and let go.

You let go of all that tension and anxiety you had been carrying the past week. The sadness and loneliness that hung around you like a demon. You shed the anger and shame as your eyes rolled back into your head and your back bowed from the bed.

Your breaths shuddered as you calmed down. The King kissed his way down your body and spread your legs open. You didn’t know what he could see, but you did see him smile. The hand he used to finger you, he placed it on your titty and began to massage your nipple with your juices.

“Ouue,” you moaned. Crisp, lightly salted air blew into the room over your wet nipple and your thighs tingled.

“Louder, my Queen,” he said.

His lips descended on your pussy like a cat lapping up milk. His tongue swiped against you slowly, taking long swipes from your entrance to your clit. You moaned and yelled to the ceiling. Your fingers dug into his curls, pushing his face in. You hoped you weren’t hurting him, but you didn’t know how you could stop.

You cried out when he suckled your clit. You felt like you were dying and being rebuilt brick by brick. Every pass of his skilled tongue notched your climax higher and higher, reaching the peak of the tallest mountain.

You pulled on his hair as you came once more, gushing all over his mouth and the sheets. You whined as your legs shook, body moving uncontrollably. The King chuckled as he kissed your thighs, your belly, in between your breasts, and up your neck.

“Are you alright, my Queen?” He asked.

It took you a few deep breaths before you trusted your voice not to break. “That would’ve been our wedding night?” You asked.

He grinned and kissed your cheek. “Every night since then if you’d have let me,” he said.

You melted into the bed. You shook your head. “Liar,” you said. But there was no heat behind it.

“I wish to feel you, husband. All of you,” you said.

“Are you not tired?” He asked. But he was already moving his trousers down, off of his hips. The fabric hit the floor and he was pushing himself up off of you.

“Not of this. Not of you,” you said. You pulled him into a kiss, tasting and smelling yourself on his tongue. It only made you want him more. You liked claiming him in such a small way, only between these kisses.

“I love you, wife,” he said.

“I love you, husband,” you said.

He moved in between your legs, sliding his knees high under your thighs. He pushed you wider than you expected, guiding the head of his dick to your slick folds. He got the tip of himself wet and then slowly pushed into you.

Your hand flew to his chest. “Slow, slow, slow,” you moaned.

He slowed down, slowly pushing his way inside of you. Your body relaxed, letting him slip inside with ease. “You’re so beautiful, wife. Filled up with me,” he said.

“Shit,” you moaned. Your legs shook on him as he began to slowly fuck into you. You were outside of time as he moved inside of you. You stared into each other’s eyes. You were pure feeling.

He kissed you in between strokes. You couldn’t keep your lips off of each other. Whispering in between kisses. How you missed each other. How you loved each other. How you wanted this to work in between you. How he wanted to plant babies inside of you and watch your belly grow with his children.

“I want to keep you, wife,” he whispered against your lips.

The glide of his dick moved easily inside of you. Like he fit there. Like you were made for each other. And for this moment, you let yourself believe it. You were meant to be here in his arms.

Your mouth dropped open, limbs weak, as a powerful climax ripped through you. You cried out to the sky and heavens. You didn’t care if you woke up the whole palace. You cried until your voice went hoarse. You squeezed around the King’s dick.

“I’m yours, my husband,” you said.

He looked into your eyes while he moaned and finally climaxed himself. His dick pulsed inside of you and you savored the closeness of his body. The heat of him. The feeling of him on top of you. He was yours and you were his.

When he was finished spilling inside of you, he dropped to one side panting. He slipped out of you and pulled you toward him. You faced him and he pulled you closer, pulling your leg over his hip. You were completely enveloped into his warmth.

You talked until the morning light. Both unwilling to allow something as small as sleep interrupt this time together. He made you tell him all about the books you read while you were hiding. He tried to make you talk about every thought you had but it was impossible to remember every single one.

You giggled well into the morning, kissing in between, and talking about the things you missed as well. All too soon, it became increasingly obvious that he would have to leave to get ready for his little wedding.

The thought still pierced your heart with an arrow. But you’d try to get over it. You’d try, for your sake and for the sake of the household. Ayi was right. You didn’t want to live in a broken household full of tension and unsaid things. You had enough of that growing up.

“Go, go get ready,” you said.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “No. But you are a king. Who am I to get in the way of that?”

He kissed you, his lips lingering against yours. His thumb caressed your cheek. “My beautiful Queen,” he said. “Will you kill me today?”

“The day is young, husband.”

The Secret King Ghezo Files | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 month

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Sponsored by Archewell of Course

Finally we learn the true purpose of this fake royal inGRIFTus visit: MEgain's dream to purcha$e (not earn) a political appointment as an Ambassador for the perks: IPP status, a NYC apartment, luxurious international travel, power, stardom, etc.

In 2021 in the name of vaccine equity (and netflix), The Meghans secured a meeting with several WHO representatives involved w/The Clinton Global Initiative including the UN Under-Secretary General Winnie Byanyima.¹

MEgain replied "It's wonderful to be back..." just to make it clear that THIS trip is all about HER not him.

It seems that identifying as Misan Harriman's Nigerian cousin might be her golden ticket to the UN.

Meghan Markle was the most unaccomplished woman in that room of so-called Nigerian women leaders and certainly the least deserving of any political appointments or elected positions. She's treated women and men like TRASH. Hissing and harassing them to such lengths that they require therapy and seek new employment.

Sparry is absolutely complicit in their drive to give his wife undeserved power and authority over institutions and human beings. He'll assist her with love bombing Ngozi even just save what little hair remains on his head. He's a Eunuch.

From the Nigerian Defense Staff Visitor Book of General Christopher Musa

Sparry: "Thank you for welcoming us to your beautiful country. Together we will heal our troops. -Harry

MEgain: "With gratitude for the support of the Invictus community. And for welcoming me home." -M??

Did these female leaders discuss the women who have been raped and violated in the African Parks Scandal?

What about hundreds of abducted Nigerian children, most recently in broad daylight on March 7, 2024?

Look at this lovely room and compare it to the spaces The Meghans publicized to the mainstream media on their tour. Spot the difference. Who do you think matters most, the wounded or the powerful?

The good news is that The MEghans have a very long history of lying, cheating, mistreating innocent people, and even mocking God.

No matter what doors 43% of bull chite will open, God will not be mocked. Sparry had the temerity to walk into Saint Paul's and read from the holy scriptures as if he's some authority on serving God while he nails his bloodline to the media's cross.

Cry out for mercy, Harry!

God will not be mocked, whatever a man sows that will he also reap.

MEgain thinks she can rebrand her ancestry and whore her way into achieving all her personal & professional goals.

Whatever she has sown, she will reap.

"An afternoon of joy, love and sharing of experiences with leading Nigerian women from across the spectrum- Public Sector, Private Sector, Civil Society, a mixture of young and old. Co hosted by Meghan the Duchess of Sussex and myself, and moderated by @MoAbudu

Talking about what it means to be a woman leader, how difficult it is to get there, and the sisterhood and brotherhood that is needed to help make leadership work. Also had a fantastic panel made up of Dr @OmobolaJohnsonHon Minister @DrDorisAnite @achenyoio@miss_asagba Dr. Mairo Mandara and CNN’s @StephanieBusari who all shared their special experiences.

Sponsored by "Archewell Women in Leadership"

Soho House's Misan Harriman but not Sparry🤔

She never cared about those less fortunate people The #Kigali of Today is the African Parks Rapes

She adored Elizabeth until she refused to place her in the Ambassador position with Emma Watson. When she had the opportunity for REVENGE she took it out on all the women waiting to meet her at the Fiji Market which included the UN Women and the Royal Tour Staff.

The Malta Ancestry Lie: "oh I do sort of blend in, and it's the loveliest feeling." Unfortunately for the Maltese tourist authority, Meghan's published article made NO MENTION MALTA!!!

"Meghan identifies 1st and foremost as the business woman. Money is Meghan's priority." P77

Numerous Bridges Burned. She has markled herself.

WTO | 2021 News items - History is made: Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala chosen as Director-General

She'sa globalist WEFer: "The General Council decision follows months of uncertainty which arose when the United States initially refused to join the consensus around Dr Okonjo-Iweala and threw its support behind Trade Minister Yoo Myung-hee of the Republic of Korea. But following Ms Yoo's decision on 5 February to withdraw her candidacy, the administration of newly elected US President Joseph R. Biden Jr. dropped the US objection and announced instead that Washington extends its “strong support” to the candidacy of Dr Okonjo-Iweala."

History is made: Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala chosen as Director-General

WTO members made history today (15 February) when the General Council agreed by consensus to select Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala of Nigeria as the organization’s seventh Director-General.

When she takes office on 1 March, Dr Okonjo-Iweala will become the first woman and the first African to be chosen as Director-General. Her term, renewable, will expire on 31 August 2025.

“This is a very significant moment for the WTO. On behalf of the General Council, I extend our warmest congratulations to Dr Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala on her appointment as the WTO's next Director-General and formally welcome her to this General Council meeting,” said General Council Chair David Walker of New Zealand who, together with co-facilitators Amb. Dacio Castillo (Honduras) and Amb. Harald Aspelund (Iceland) led the nine-month DG selection process.

“Dr Ngozi, on behalf of all members I wish to sincerely thank you for your graciousness in these exceptional months, and for your patience. We look forward to collaborating closely with you, Dr Ngozi, and I am certain that all members will work with you constructively during your tenure as Director-General to shape the future of this organization,” he added.

Dr Okonjo-Iweala said a key priority for her would be to work with members to quickly address the economic and health consequences brought about by the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I am honoured to have been selected by WTO members as WTO Director-General,” said Dr Okonjo-Iweala. “A strong WTO is vital if we are to recover fully and rapidly from the devastation wrought by the COVID-19 pandemic. I look forward to working with members to shape and implement the policy responses we need to get the global economy going again. Our organization faces a great many challenges but working together we can collectively make the WTO stronger, more agile and better adapted to the realities of today.” Her full statement is available here.

The General Council decision follows months of uncertainty which arose when the United States initially refused to join the consensus around Dr Okonjo-Iweala and threw its support behind Trade Minister Yoo Myung-hee of the Republic of Korea. But following Ms Yoo's decision on 5 February to withdraw her candidacy, the administration of newly elected US President Joseph R. Biden Jr. dropped the US objection and announced instead that Washington extends its “strong support” to the candidacy of Dr Okonjo-Iweala.

Amb. Walker extended his thanks to all eight of the candidates who participated in the selection process and particularly to Ms Yoo “for her ongoing commitment to and support for the multilateral trading system and for the WTO”. His full statement is available here.

The General Council agreed on 31 July that there would be three stages of consultations held over a two-month period commencing 7 September. During these confidential consultations, the field of candidates was narrowed from eight to five and then two. On 28 October, General Council Chair David Walker of New Zealand had informed members that based on consultations with all delegations Dr Okonjo-Iweala was best poised to attain consensus of the 164 WTO members and that she had the deepest and the broadest support among the membership. At that meeting, the United States was the only WTO member which said it could not join the consensus.

The consultation process undertaken by the chair and facilitators was established through guidelines agreed by all WTO members in a 2002 General Council decision. These guidelines spelled out the key criteria in determining the candidate best positioned to gain consensus is the “breadth of support” each candidate receives from the members. During the DG selection processes of 2005 and 2013, breadth of support was defined as “the distribution of preferences across geographic regions and among the categories of members generally recognized in WTO provisions: that is (Least developed countries), developing countries and developed countries”. This same process, agreed by all members in the General Council in 2020, was strictly followed by Chair Walker and his colleagues throughout the 2020-21 DG selection process.

The process for selecting a new Director-General was triggered on 14 May when former Director-General Mr Roberto Azevêdo informed WTO members he would be stepping down from his post one year before the expiry of his mandate. He subsequently left office on 31 August.

¹Winnie Byanyima UN Under-Secretary Gen & ED of UNAIDS since 2019: "Byanyima was appointed as the executive director of UNAIDS in August 2019, by the United Nations Secretary-General, António Guterres, following a comprehensive selection process that involved a search committee constituted by members of the UNAIDS Programme Coordinating Board. In her new position she concurrently serves as a United Nations Under-Secretary-General. In addition to her role at UNAIDS, Byanyima also serves a two-year term as a member of the World Bank Group’s (WBG) Advisory Council on Gender and Development. Since 2022, she has been a member of the Commission for Universal Health convened by Chatham House and co-chaired by Helen Clark and Jakaya Kikwete."

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writergirl2011 · 10 months

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Regarding Hyle Hunt

There's been a little discourse regarding the role one Ser Hyle Hunt will play in Lady Brienne of Tarth's storyline going forward. Some people seem to think that he is her perfect match because they hate the idea that Brienne deserves to have a romance with the man she wants--aka one Ser Jaime Lannister--because that messes with the narrative they want to push, whatever that narrative may be.

Some people think that Ser Hyle Hunt is a more interesting and more remarkable man than he truly is, when nothing he's said or done to this point has shown him to be anything of the sort. Personally, I'm not impressed with a man who set up a bet with his buddies over a young noblewoman's virginity--which was essentially the kiss of death to said young woman, who didn't have much going for her on the marriage mart in the first place. (Don't give me the "men will be men" explanation. That makes you no better than Randyll Tarly.) And his proposal of marriage boils down to: "Hey, baby, you've got an island and a lot of money, I've got a functional dick that's already proven to be fertile. I can close my eyes and blow out the candle. Let's do it." How romantic.

There has been absolutely no indication that Brienne will ever love this man, or even care the slightest for him. Threatening to turn someone into a eunuch isn't playful banter, especially not when said man once bet on her virginity and the last time she confronted someone(s) in that bet, she beat the living shit out of them. She hasn't forgotten, and she really hasn't forgiven. And when it comes to Hyle, she never really will, because in her eyes, what he did was the worst of all of them. He came the closest to winning by doing the one thing none of the others did--he made her feel included, like she might be earning a little bit of respect in that camp. Then she found out it was all a lie.

"But she hated Jaime at first!" Yeah, but that was before Jaime: told a lie about Tarth's wealth to save her from rape; shouted "sapphires" and risked a beating to save her from rape again; risked his own life to save hers by jumping unarmed into a bear pit (with only one hand to boot), and revealed the truth about why he killed Aerys, thus revealing that rather than it being a callous act, he'd saved an entire city of innocents--a noble act. THEN he put his trust in her to find Sansa, gifting her with a horse, armor, and a priceless sword. He gave her the respect Hyle only pretended to give her, expecting nothing in return.

What has Hyle done on their road trip? When Brienne kills the three former Bloody Mummers, I'm curious: how long was Hyle there? At least long enough to see her and Pod burying Nimble Dick, but the way he's described sitting there casually makes me think he'd been there longer. Watching. Sitting back doing nothing while she might've been killed. And we don't know what his true motives are in following her. If she finds Sansa, is he going to help her get Sansa to safety--or is he going to betray her and try to turn Sansa in to the Crown for the reward?

If you want any further proof that she doesn't care about Hyle, think about who she tried to bargain for when Lady Stoneheart was about to hang them all. Not herself, and certainly not Hyle. Podrick, the boy. And when they were hanging, as she was dying. the only person she had eyes for was Pod.

And who did she presumably agree to kill Jaime for? Podrick.

Yeah. She's really going to come around on Hyle.

#Brienne of Tarth #Hyle Hunt #Jaime Lannister #ASOIAF meta #give me a break people #reading comprehension #it's a thing

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nrilliree · 6 days

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The person who said that about aegon is a known TB. I mean the actor also said that aegon loves his kids. idk why are you all so obsessed with the idea that he doesn’t care about his kids when cast and people who watch the episode are telling that he cares about them.

And at least, unlike daemon, he never offered to feed them to the dragons.

Okay, and I say the grass is blue. There is no evidence for it, we all saw that it is green, but you believe me that it is blue, right? She's naturally blue, I didn't paint her blue half an hour ago and I'm not trying to tell you it's like that all the time!

Daemon - would rather feed his sons to the dragon than hand them over as prisoners to the TG... who later planned to mutilate Aegon by cutting off his ears or making him a eunuch, when he was their prisoner. (And also murdered Lucerys and caused Rhaenyra to miscarry their daughter.)

Aegon - after the death of Viserys, when, according to Alicent's threats, the bloodthirsty Rhaenyra was to appear to murder Aegon and his entire family, Aegon decided to escape alone, abandoning his wife and children to her mercy, so if Alicent was right (and she had been telling him all his life that she has) - to death. He left his bastards in a hole where the children lived in misery and fought with fangs and claws. Yes, these children count too.

And how interesting it is that when I have anonymous questions turned off, none of you came to defend Aegon. How strange 🤔

#house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #pro team black #anti team green stans

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the-empress-7 · 4 months

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Argh I am getting so mad

Dear Empress I hope you are well. I am glad I’m not the only one who thinks Charles is a weak pushover when it comes to his traitor son. I know you keep saying that he will start rolling out the “I am ill” excuses, but a few weeks ago I was reading Celticrossanon tumblr and she had a reading on there that said his energy is.. “leave it to someone else to deal with, I am tired I don’t have the will or energy!”

I see this is what seems to be happening. He didn’t act before and he won’t act now. Celta also had a reading which said that there have been debates about acting on Harry and there will come a time when the decision is removed from Charles. I hope so this crap has gone on long enough.

I do not like Charles or Camilla as people and even though everyone says William is workshy, can you blame him after all the stress he’s gone through? Imagine your boss undermines you, sides with the bullies, makes you work and never gives you credit, throws you under the bus. You’d start phoning your job in too. I don’t think William is ready to be king and nor will his dad let him take the limelight. But I do hope it happens anyway. I think Charles is a weak monarch who doesn’t care what anyone but his missus thinks.

As for all those who say Skank and her eunuch haven’t done damage, grow the eff up and look at the facts. LOL I need to go before I blow my top!! I am on SMM reddit and people there just suck off Charles or the Beckhams! I have made it my duty to expose them too. If I hear anyone else say how great DB is after his anti-people stance, I will lose it. Have a great day and try to stay sane my dear.

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Hi anon, thank you for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.

I do think William is ready, however what William is doing is directing his energies towards projects that can’t be undermined by Charles. So basically Earthshot and Homewards. Just look at how incredibly well Earthshot is doing just a couple years in, The Royal Foundation is also thriving. William is clearly capable of delivering results and being a leader, it’s just that he is choosing to be constructive instead of destructive. Trust me when the day comes when he is King, he will be ready. He is already a better leader than all the men in that family combined.

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cinnamonest · 1 year

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When I first heard Cyno's title from leaks, as a good little simp, I went to investigate if a Mahamatra is something real.

Turns out, it is not only real, with being basically a morality police, but there's a type of Mahamatras whose duty is keeping tabs on women or something like that!

Imagine Cyno being also tasked as the keeper of the few women from Sumeru. He would, probably not intentionally, but terrify his darling by telling her how lucky she is to end up under his care. He treats the girls fairly, but once they are out of his watch to be distributed? He has seen the stuff men do to them. So stop complaining and be grateful for what he gives you! He actually treats you with decency.

(Fun fact! I had this entire thing already written and then windows auto-updated at some point while I was in urgent care bc I came home to it restarting and didn't save a temp recovery file in the appdata files :))))))

So I read a short entry about it, it seems like the exact responsibilities varied from subculture and households and communities, some of them over the general populace/common prostitutes but some of them were like a supervisor/babysitter + bodyguard combo to wealthier concubines and the like which is very :))))) and it also kinda reminds me of all the historical Chinese dramas where they have eunuchs that would guard emperor's wives and the like? And how a lot of cultures/eras within certain cultures had like "common prostitutes" and then like more elite brothels specifically for the wealthy/nobility/royalty that were often cared for, and some men would be appointed to watch over prostitutes and harems and the like

Sooooo I got to thinking of like a "more accurate to the time period the game is roughly based on" AU running with a similar idea (although of course I'm still wayyyyy deviating from historical accuracy entirely bc that makes things more fun)

//prostitute/concubine sort of darling, vaguely sexist stuff in a historical sort of way and heavily gendered, mentions of eunuchs because y'know historical AU stuff

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

Cyno being appointed to watch over and enforce rules on elite courtesans... Usually, these positions are only available to eunuchs, but some exceptions can be made for individuals who have been deemed worthy of the utmost trust, usually after proving themselves over the course of time. Thankfully, that's the classification he falls into... the notion of eunuchs makes him shudder to think about.

His dependableness, stoicism and clear self-control have earned him the trust of those in positions of authorities, and thus, he was assigned to this role. His observation skills and ability to keep tabs on more than one thing at once also helped. There's a few other such guards that take care of the lot of you as a whole, and that's part of his job as well, but he's the one personally assigned to you whenever you wish to go off on your own from the others, or into the public sphere.

He's not supposed to deny you that option, either, unless explicitly told not to by a superior, or if you want to go somewhere that is unallowed, in which case he is obligated to prohibit you from going. Otherwise, if you want to go somewhere, his job is to accompany you and tend to your whims, silently and stoically unless responding to something you say or speaking to a stranger on your behalf. Which he is expected to do, as you aren't allowed to speak to strangers, instead having him act as an intermediary.

When you go to markets (given a certain allowance of spending money to keep you happy and content), you point to the things you want or tell him what to get, and he does, speaking to merchants on your behalf. If someone approaches you for whatever reason - which is rare, seeing as most people know very well not to do so, especially with his intimidating presence beside you - he will, as he's trained and expected to do, physically step in between you and the other person, acting as a human shield in case someone were to approach you with the intent to attack, as well as a physical reminder of your status, communicating very clearly that the other individual should not be so arrogant as to assume he has any right to speak to you directly. And, of course, so you yourself don't get any ideas about talking to someone outside of the range of individuals you are allowed to speak to. If said individual is just pestering you to try and sell you something or harass you, he'll chase them off, otherwise he'll lean over so you can murmur your replies into his ear, allowing him to repeat it back to the other person.

As with that matter, with plenty of other scenarios, he's not just there to protect you. It's an unspoken condition, but understood nonetheless. He's there to keep an eye on your own behaviors. Your nature means that you can't be trusted to control your impulses or make good decisions, and if you weren't being closely watched, you may very well go off and sleep with someone else at the first opportunity you get. That's why you have him there, to ensure that that doesn't happen, to keep you in line, so to speak. Accompany you everywhere you go, sit in on your conversations with any and all visitors you have. To always know exactly where you are and what you're doing. For the few hours of night, there are guards at the end of the hall that watch the rooms where people are sleeping, but that's the only time he isn't by your side. Well, even then, he's assigned a room directly next to yours, even, to be able to spring up out of bed should you call for him, or if he's needed in any way, if you get sick in the night, and so on. So technically, he never really does leave your side.

Well, except for when one of the elites comes to "visit" you. Happens a few times a day, with the occasional break. Only certain individuals are allowed to do so. That's an important factor in your relationship. You live in a large complex, and only specific nobles and the highest-ranked individuals are allowed to enter your bed.

He's not one of them.

It's yet another class-standing issue. Sure, he may work for elites, he may dedicate his every waking moment to you and the others like you, but it would be considered defiling if he were to actually do anything to you. It's grounds for imprisonment... or worse. Only nobles have that privilege.

In truth, he resents said nobles. They're snobbish, selfish people that see you as an object, rather than a person. Usually cruel and critical towards you, never have anything nice or positive to say, always too busy to spend any time with you except to come to bed at night. It makes him grind his teeth, cover his ears so he doesn't have to hear. Likewise, you're supposed to act as though he couldn't possibly know, even though you both know full well he can hear anything that goes on in your room.

It makes him feel a very negative emotion. Anger? Bitterness? He tells himself it's because he knows they don't value you like you deserve. You've always been such a kind woman... he's seen you show concern and compassion for others, it's endearing. And in truth, while you're still of the weaker, inferior half of humanity, that kindness in and of itself is a very respectable thing... but those men would never appreciate that.

Yes, that's the real source of the anger, he knows that full well, and very quickly loses the ability to convince himself otherwise, after the first few weeks. It's because it feels unfair. They don't appreciate you, don't care for you, don't watch over you, they do nothing for you. He does all of that. He knows you far better. Yet they get to reap what logically should be his rewards.

But he stops that train of thought. "What should be his"? No, that way of thinking is dishonorable and selfish, defies the natural hierarchy of society. People of certain standing have privileges that lower members do not... even though he can't logically answer as to why. They just do. That is what is taught to the masses of the populace - the nobles and royalty deserve their palaces and wealth and feasts while the common man struggles to survive. A birthright bestowed by some higher power or the like. And as long as they have the ability to enforce that way of thinking, he has to accept it too.

And to even think of you in any way other than the purest of thoughts and a detached sense of guardianship, to have anything impure go through his mind, is sinful, filthy, almost a transgression when the thoughts intrude. It's his responsibility to push them away... even if that proves difficult.

No wonder they usually get eunuchs for this position. While the prospect is horrible, and he certainly doesn't envy them for obvious reasons, they do have the one advantage of not having to deal with the same extent of mental torment and temptation that he has to subject himself to. He starts to think he really didn't initially appreciate the trust placed in him enough, not realizing at the time of being appointed just how much willpower it would require.

And you don't make things any easier. To some extent, you're allowed to treat him like he's invisible, not even there. A lot of girls with such guardians do exactly that, pretty much never speaking to said appointed guardian unless needed, essentially going about their lives and acting like they don't even exist unless commanding them to fetch something or take care of some task.

You're rather talkative, though, at least with him. It is a bit surprising at first, albeit endearing. He's used to being seen as a tool, a sort of entity that exists to serve, and has been treated as such in past assignments in moral enforcement and dealing with violators of the society's rules, to the people he always reported to. He had some individual supervising roles before, but of all those jobs he's had in the past, you're the first one that's really... talked to him, for anything more than basic commands.

There's a good reason for that, too. You're not supposed to grow close to him in any capacity. It's not... proper, not right, it's frowned upon. There's no real given rule against it, but it's just one of those things that people don't do, that is understood without ever having to be addressed that you shouldn't. You're in a completely different world, your social role is too far apart from his for him to realistically be directly addressed by you so much.

And, of course, it's risky. People might get the wrong idea. Maybe it's just because you're quite literally trained in seduction and charm, but you always look at him with these half-lidded eyes, a sultry voice, a teasing way of speaking to him. It's basically just second nature to you, it's how you've always been taught to interact with every man you meet, to put on a flirtatiousness and sensuality with every word and every move and every expression.

It drives him up the wall, increasing with each day. The standards and norms of your role don't exactly dress you particularly modestly either, quite the opposite, which doesn't help. And you specifically are always on thin ice, always testing the boundaries, always pushing the limits of how much flirtatiousness can be excused. Perhaps that's why someone like him was assigned to you.

Well, he knows what he has to do. This is part of his job: correcting your behaviors when needed. There's a fine line of what he's allowed to tell you to do, an odd dynamic where you can tell him to do tasks for you, and yet, he also has the right - the obligation - to command you, when it comes to certain matters of behavior, and he's expected to judge each situation appropriately, to not go too far in reprimanding you, to always criticize when he should while avoiding overstepping a line. It's a learned skill, requiring a thorough knowledge of rules both documented and silently understood.

Whenever you sit on the floor next to him as you and all your sisters-in-profession converse each evening, when you lean over onto him and reach your hand over to his thigh, he grabs your wrist, and gently, simultaneously avoiding both unnecessary harshness while also ensuring he doesn't grip you for a single moment too long, pushes you back. It's probably best you get on to bed, you are weary.

When you skip around all excited as you do whenever there's music in the courtyards, come over to him and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, he grabs your hands and softly pushes them back to your chest. Please, be appropriate.

He makes sure you wear more modest clothing when you leave the main grounds, rather than those incredibly lewd outfits the nobles have you roaming around estate grounds in. Tells you to stop making eye contact and look downward and bow your head when stranger men approach, like you're supposed to. Always reinforcing standards and rules. You teasingly call him such a stick in the mud.

Better that, though, than subject to the wrath of higher-ups if he didn't perform his job.

When you shift to inappropriate topics, when you try and talk to strangers (he gets the sense you do it deliberately just to see him worry), when you stoop and bend and shift your legs in ways he knows is to catch attention. It's his responsibility to speak to you in a firm voice, tell you to behave yourself. You always roll your eyes, say something to the effect of affirming acknowledgement, but you never actually fix your behavior. It irritates him. Don't you know how serious what you do is? What if it wasn't him? What if it was anyone else? He asks you that, trying to get you to see reason, but even then, you shrug it off, clearly not understanding the gravity of the matter. It worries him. What if one day you get assigned to someone else, with far less self-control? What then? You're foolish and naive. It's a constant concern on his mind.

You don't mean it seriously, but you enjoy the reactions you get out of him in particular. You don't realize how significant it is, you think of it like just any other matter of poking fun at something. You think it's funny. You find it cute.

And far more dangerously, you think it's harmless.

Far from it, in reality. If people got the wrong idea, it could get him in trouble. Proof isn't needed for these sorts of things. If someone were to accuse him of something, it wouldn't matter if there was no evidence, or even if you were willing to testify or vouch in his favor. Your testimony can't be used in a court of law anyway. Even then, if the person accusing him was high enough in rank, there wouldn't even be a court of law, they would just command whatever their will may be. Not to mention, you would also get in massive trouble. The fact that you don't understand that, or at least don't take it seriously, is incredibly concerning.

He ends up having to draw a line. One night at random, completely unprovoked, so much so it catches him off-guard. You have always teased and poked fun at him with that grin on your face, tried to get him flustered and embarrassed. Overstepping the boundaries of appropriateness, which he always chastises you for as is warranted. You always obey for the moment, but return to the same thing within a matter of minutes.

The kind of teasing that bothers him the most, though, is when you pry about his own life, deeply personal things. There was that time you first managed to pry out of him that he wasn't a eunuch - oh, no, now I'm scared. Heheh... just kidding. There was the time you asked him if he had any children, or a lover back home. He had to reinforce the negative answer several times (crossing his arms and getting all stiff and looking away, which you seemed to find very amusing) before you believed him and left the matter alone.

And then, one night, walking back to your room with him by your side in the otherwise empty hall, you return to that topic he hates so much. You're so tense all the time. It's not good to be so stressed, you know.

Your footsteps stop. You turn to him with that smirk on your face, grab one of his hands and clasp both of your own around it, pulling it closer to you. You speak in that playful, sultry tone.

I can help you. No one has to know.

It actually takes him a second to reply, stunned into wide-eyed stillness and silence, an expression of shock you've never seen on his usually stoic face. His whole body goes stiff and rigid. Then, after that moment passes, he jerks his hand back out of your grasp with force, stumbles a few steps back. He looks back at you with a serious, intimidating expression, one that makes the grin on your face fall, makes you shrink back.

Never say such things to me.

Even in all the times you've been reprimanded, he's never used that firm and rebuking of a tone. It makes you take a step back. You hang your head, speaking quietly, all traces of the flirtatious tone from moments before vanished.

...I'm sorry.

You can hear the frustration as he lets out a heavy exhale. Brings his hand up to his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Mutters something about how you're too careless for your own good.

Go on to bed. I will forget this. You ought to as well.

You clearly feel hurt and guilty, and in truth, he really does feel bad about it, almost starts to apologize for being so firm to you, as you nod and turn to your door, hurriedly shuffling inside. But consciously, he knows you needed that firmness. Better to learn that now, than learn it by making a much more grave mistake. So he lets you go inside without another word exchanged.

And more importantly, it's best you go inside so you don't see the state he's in. He's on the verge of losing composure, managing to hold himself together right up until the moment your door shuts, before stumbling back to the wall, leaning against it as he slowly sinks down to the ground. Holds his hand out in front of his face to see it trembling. Presses two fingers to his neck to feel the rapid pounding of his heart. It takes a while, sitting there staring blankly to your door on the other side, before he can bring himself to stand up again. Even then, he has to hesitate a moment. Going in there would be so easy. All he would have to do is open the door. Put one foot in front of the other. It would be so simple.

And there's a voice in the back of his head that says you would be right. No one would know. He could probably get away with it.

It takes every ounce of willpower in his entire being (and, as a great motivator, thinking of the consequences if he were caught) to instead turn and go back to his own bed. Staring up at the ceiling all night.

Yes, it really was incredible that they would trust him so much.

Not that he can bring himself to leave you, no. He's terrified of what could happen to you if he left, he clearly sees how you disregard all of his warnings as to how dangerous the way you behave would be to anyone else. And he also can't leave because... he cares for you too much. His whole life revolves around you. To remove you from it would be like tearing his heart of out his chest.

But at the same time, surely he can't stay. It feels like an hourglass reaching the last few grains of sand, like a clock slowly ticking down. Something is bound to happen. Because of you... or maybe, if something in him finally breaks, because of himself. Or maybe because of you both. It's evitable. Like an animal in a trap, and he doesn't know how to get out. The only thing to do is wait for the inevitable day something happens, perhaps because of you... but now he's starting to think his downfall will be his own doing.

#.cn

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abbatoirablaze · 4 months

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Allies, Aemond Targaryen

Word Count: 1.5k

“My lord-“

The king held his hand up, tiredly waving away Hightower, “Not now, Hightower.”

“But my lord,” Hightower said quickly, “There has been an urgent request for your presence…”

“My husband has bid that you leave him alone!” Alicent said dutifully as she spared her father a glance. The older man sent her a glare in return but said nothing as he turned to leave, “my king…are you alright?”

“No, Alicent, I am not alright. Our son was damaged…” he growled, “and at the hands of Rhaenyra’s children. I will not have this type of fighting in my household…”

“I know, my lord. I asked that you-“

“And what you did?” he growled, his own question making her jump, “what is your excuse? You are to act like a queen and yet-“

“She was the reason our son was damaged!” she spat, “it’s been weeks, and you see how your subjects treat him now that they have been able to see what has happened to him. They treat him as though he is damaged goods. As though-“

“HE IS!” he yelled at his wife, “long before he lost his eye, that boy was damaged goods, Alicent, and you know it. But you spoiled him. You infantilized him! YOU MADE HIM A MONSTER! Now his face matches what is on the inside!”

A lone tear ran down Aemond’s cheek as he turned from the door.

Originally, he’d planned on speaking to his mother and father, wanting to go to the dragon pit, but upon hearing their argument, he just stood and listened. But he had never expected them to talk to one another about him like that.

His lip warbled as he looked away, and started down one of the many sets of stairs that were unknown to many in the kingdom. Slipping into one of the passages he made his way to the dragon pits.

Pulling his cloak up over his face he started towards the handlers; the eunuchs assigned to watch over and care for the dragons until the dragon riders came to be with them or needed them.

“YOU!” he called hastily, “where is my dragon? Where is Vhagar?”

The eunuch shook his head, “I-I know not my prince…”

His nose twitched as he pulled his dagger, “WHERE IS MY DRAGON!”

A roar from the cavern caught his attention.

It was as though Vhagar had recognized his voice already and had heard him calling for her. She bellowed once more, beckoning her owner towards her.

“Useless!” Aemond spat, his nose twitching once more as he returned his dagger to his belt. Pulling on his hood once more he followed the sounds of the dragon bellowing until he reached an exceedingly deep cavern.

But he was shocked when he saw someone already with Vhagar.

Another figure, this one a little smaller than his own, was laying by the dragon’s snout, lazily stroking it while the dragon herself hummed in response.

“VHAGAR!”

Neither dragon, nor the other figure moved as Aemond hastened his pace, coming up to his dragon. He drew his dagger once more as he looked at the figure ready to challenge them if they so much as put the newly formed bond with the dragon in question, “Get away from my dragon.”

Vhagar barely batted an eye as she nosed her rider away from the figure.

“Vhagar!” he growled, lightly tapping her snout with the flat side of his blade. His dagger returned to its sheath and he crossed his arms over his chest, “what are you doing?”

“She’s enjoying a chin scratch,” the figure called out to him, “if you knew anything about some of these old guys and gals it’s that no one gives them a proper chin or snout scratch, so when someone does they’re in heaven.”

“WHO ARE YOU TO COME INTO MY DRAGON’S DEN?”

The figure turned, her hood dropping.

Aemond gasped.

“I am Ayealla, daughter of-“

“Vaemond Velaryon!”

She smiled, “nice to know that my father’s reputation proceeds me.”

“Awfully far from the sea…”

She smiled again, “I heard that my cousin Laena had passed. I had to make sure that Vhagar was claimed by someone that was worthy to ride her. Secretly I’d always hoped that Vhagar would have chosen me, but I was far too young when her last rider passed. Plus…well…I’ve had mine since I was born.”

“You may leave!” he said swiftly, sparing her a small glance, “Vhagar has her rider…and I shall-“

But he stopped speaking when he noticed the marring on her neck when she removed her hood.

“It’s rude to do that you know…but since your new to being damaged…I’ll let it slide.”

“I-I’m not-“

“Aemond…quiet yourself and listen to me…” she sighed, “because what I can tell you will make sure that no one ever treats you the way you’re feeling again.”

“H-how do you know what I’m feeling?”

“Because I’ve been there,” she said solemnly as she slid her lockes back over the side of her neck to cover the marring of her flesh, “I came here because of what happened. Because of what my cousins have done to you…I’m going to make you powerful Aemond…so people know that they won’t get away with what they’ve done…”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

He watched curiously as she pricked her finger and chanted in high Velaryon, first marking Vhagar’s snout with her blood, and then finally moving towards Aemond, and making a marking on his cheek.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“A ritual, Aemond Targaryen…a ritual of the sea…and of the old gods. A ritual of my allegiance to you, cousin.”

Aemond looked across the table to where his cousin sat.

“My, she has grown into quite the attractive-“

“Brother…” Aemond growled at his more nefarious brother. Aegon chuckled and clapped him on the back. Aemond frowned, “you are married to-“

“Don’t remind me,” he groaned as he looked to where his wife was dancing with their toddlers, engaging them in their playful attitudes, “Ayealla hasn’t been seen in the courts in years…her father was hiding her away from the family be-“

“Because our family has the tendency to kill hers?” Aemond asked, referring to how their uncle had killed her father before taking their sister back to Dragonstone.

“Some might say that,” he shrugged, “Do you think that she’s making eyes at me, brother? She keeps looking over here…and I-quiet. She’s coming over.”

“Prince Aemond,” she said quietly, joining the brothers, “my king…kind of you to invite me to the formal gathering of your courts. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to make the journey sooner.”

“We were wondering if you’d even show…” Aemond teased, “you’ve been quite a ghost in our circles…”

She gave him a sad smile, “we need all the alliances we can get, can we not? My father was against Rhaenyra attempting to take the throne. Spoke out against it.”

“He would have preferred your family got it and was sitting in King’s Landing over mine!” Aegon frowned, reminding her of her father’s indiscretions.

“He would have rathered you receive the crown than her, my lord.” She smiled sweetly at him, “a king in his rightful place.”

“Fair enough,” Aegon shrugged as he eyed the woman up and down, “so…no husband to keep you in line, Ayealla?”

“Died…at sea…I’m but a widowed woman without a nest to tend to,” she answered shortly, “I offer my services to your kingdom, my lord, as daughter of Vaemond Velaryon. That of mine and my dragon.”

“Kind of you!” Aemond smiled, answering before his brother, “we will be glad to have you serving under the rightful king of the seven kingdoms.”

“And may he have a long and prosperous reign!” she said firmly, holding up a chalice, “Prince Aemond…might I borrow you for a dance?”

“But of course, Ayealla!” Aemond replied just as firmly. He stood from his spot and looked at his brother once more before coming around the table and holding his hand out to her. She took it and the two of them walked down the steps to the formal dancing area. He wrapped his arms around her, and she clung to him as the song changed.

“I truly am surprised that you’re here, Ayealla.”

“We sealed our alliance as children, Aemond…that will never change…” she reminded him, “I received your word that you wished for me to come to the court…so I have.”

“We were children!” he recalled softly, brushing the hair from her neck so that her scars were exposed. Their eyes met, and she reached up, removing the eye patch, exposing the brilliant gem that hid beneath, “Two damaged souls…forever entwined though, are we not?”

“Our beauty is in what others would see as our flaws.”

“A fiery fighter,” he cooed gently, stroking the long-since healed skin, “one was tortured by pirates at her father’s incompliance.”

“A warrior who was looking to protect his family’s honor,” she replied even softer, her hand reaching to stroke along his brow and cheek where his scar was, “our time is coming soon, Aemond. I promised you years ago that you were to get your revenge on those who harmed you. And I keep my word, sweet prince.”

“And when the kingdom falls, we run and never look back…” he reminded her.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, my love.”

“And I you.”

#aemond targaryen #house black #house of the dragon #hotd #one shot #1shot #prince aemond #house valeryon #allies

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gegengestalt · 1 year

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Some thoughts on how Dmitri Karamazov and Pavel Smerdyakov are perfect foils

*Keep in mind that this contains spoilers for the entire book and that in order for this comparison to work, one must assume that the rumour about Fyodor being Pavel Smerdyakov's biological father has to be true.

While there is a lot written on the theological debate of Ivan and Alyosha Karamazov, I have yet to see a comparison of Mitya Karamazov and Pavel Smerdyakov. Perhaps I haven't explored enough, but these are my two cents (dare I say 3000 rubles) on the matter. Both taken care of by Grigory, both suspects in the murder of Fyodor Pavlovich, yet two men couldn't be more different from each other. I will write down my thoughts in this order:

Different from their birth (social circumstances)

Contrasting the individuals (their descriptions and characterization, side by side)

Brotherhood (relationships to Ivan and Alyosha, preparation for the next point

Narrative (their place in the narrative)

1. Different from their birth

From even before they were born, their paths are opposed. Mitya is born out of the union of Fyodor Pavlovich and Adelaida Miusova, an aristocratic, beautiful and educated young woman who married Fyodor against her family's wishes and was no innocent victim of his. Even when he left her son, it was her choice, though a hard one (and probably the best one, considering her fate.)(BookI,chapter1). Stinking Lizaveta didn't have much of a choice. She was a poor and mentally disabled woman who suffered violence from Fyodor shortly after Adelaida left, and died in childbirth (BIIIch2). Mitya keeps a connection to his mother through his inheritance, but for Pavel, it's a curse. He is "the stinking son of Stinking Lizaveta", and ironically the child that remains in his father's home for the longest time.

From these circumstances, the children grow up to be a firstborn who feels entitled to what he feels is owed to him, and an illegitimate son whose work as a servant is taken for granted. Yet, even when Mitya is of a good social position and Pavel is of a lower one, Mitya is the one who seems to sink below what is considered to be how an aristocrat should act in public and is compared to a beast, and he has often surrounded himself with peasants in his parties. Pavel is the one who takes small steps to strive for more than what he's given, he likes to dress well, he learns and has aspirations beyond what he's expected to do. (For this whole paragraph, BVch2)

2. Contrasting the individuals

Their differences come down to individual characteristics as well, and it's evident even in how they present themselves. Mitya is described as muscular and sporting signs of masculinity like a moustache that is often seen in military men (BIIch6) He walks with long strides, he's loud, outwardly emotional and often gesticulates in exaggerated manners. Pavel's main physical feature is his weakness and sickliness. Compared to Mitya's masculinity, Pavel is portrayed as emasculate, as he is compared to an eunuch. He has a silent and discreet demeanour, and he's not very expressive. (BIIIch6, BIXch6)

Mitya is impulsive. This causes him to have a temper and not be very smart in the way that requires focus, patience and forethought (seeing him as completely stupid leaves out so much of his character). What Pavel lacks in the physical strength that Mitya has, he makes up for with a more calculated and patient approach. He's neat and meticulous even in the night of the murder, while Mitya runs around stained in blood. Speaking of meticulousness, it's interesing to me how Pavel's behaviour could be described as effeminate, while Mitya's masculinity is overdone through several masculine stereotypes at once (the knight of honour, the brute, the sensitive and tortured artist).

When it comes to women, God, their country and poetry, their opinions are comically different. Mitya enjoys the attention he gets from women and returns it, he expresses love for God and Russia in the text and he's very fond of poetry, quoting it often and even speaking with rhymes and wordplays at times. (BookIIIchIII&IV, Epilogue 2). Pavel happens to disdain all of these. While he holds contempt for both men and women, the suggestion of marriage digusted him. He rejects God, claims to hate all of Russia and declares that poetry is rubbish ("who ever talks in rhyme?" well, it seems like Mitya does)(BIIIch6, BVch2).

3. Brotherhood

Ivan and Alyosha, the children of Sofia Ivanovna, have contrasting relationships with their half- brothers. Mitya, who quickly grew fond of Alyosha, puts him in a moral high- ground and pours out his heart to him. Alyosha accepts it and reciprocates his brotherly love, even if he isn't as outwardly enthusiastic. Pavel, on the other hand, looked up to Ivan on the basis of thinking they could be alike and shows great interest in Ivan's displays of intellect. Ivan is increasingly scornful of Pavel as the story progresses. Ivan and Alyosha's contrasts extend to their half- brothers as well. Mitya and Alyosha are the life- affirming pair of half- brothers, while Ivan and Pavel are the pair with the ideas deemed destructive by the narrative.

Two fun contrasts I noticed, as a side note:

Mitya and Alyosha are two sides of not working for money, and Pavel and Ivan are two sides of work.

Book III ends with Alyosha and Mitya parting ways and Book V ends with Pavel and Ivan parting ways.

4. Narrative

While Ivan and Alyosha carry the theological and philosophical discussion in the heart of the book, Mitya and Pavel are the main players in the world that puts the theories and ideals to the test. Dostoyevsky's narrative attempts to make the reader sympathize and have faith in the greatly flawed human being that is Mitya. Those who believed in his capacity for spontaneous good will never believe that he murdered his father, while those who didn't would have a harder time believing in his open- ended redemption. Pavel's case is a little more complicated. His inner thoughts aren't as exposed as Mitya's, and his motivations aren't explicitly nor reliably stated, so it's harder to consider his importance unless one pays attention to how the narrator presents him as an outsider, a shallow presence. Not even his relationship with Marya is explored. I have my reasons to believe this may be a deliberate choice, since a theme in Fyodor Dostoyevsky's work is the suffering of the lower classes. Mitya is a great character, but Pavel isn't, not because he's badly written, but because perhaps his conflicts aren't Mitya's intense and paradoxical angst and passion. Perhaps there is a lot of boring and unromantic pain in the world.

Mitya and Pavel execute Alyosha's and Ivan's respective positions, even further. Mitya's religious fervor surpasses Alyosha's, his faith is a simple and unwavering affirmation even when he's drowning in the guilt of sin or Rakitin pesters him to dissuade him from his faith. His religiosity goes so far that he overdoes one of the core ideas of the book: while he embraces Zosima's idea of guilt for all, it doesn't just mean that he should be guilty for everyone, but that everyone is guilty for everyone else. Those are fundamentally different things. As for Pavel, he dared to do what Ivan doesn't, he put his ideas in practice (BXIch7-8). However, I don't believe that he was directly inspired by him. I think he adapted the ideas to his own interests. Sometimes people love to realize what they already knew, and wait until they find a justification. One of my favourite things about Dostoyevsky is that we see the philosophical content happen in the world of his stories.

From their birth to their fates, two men couldn't be more different. Mitya, who acted or expressed himself in a suicidal manner well over ten times, ultimately stays away from the pistols and declares a sense of responsibility for a crime he did not commit. Pavel, who was shown to feel attachment to his own life and save his own skin, destroys himself out of his own volition after tormenting Ivan.

Thank you so much for reading if you made it all the way to the end!

#the brothers karamazov #how do I even tag this? tbh I could write even more on this #tbk #dmitri karamazov #pavel smerdyakov #fyodor dostoyevsky

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grand-theft-carbohydrates · 10 months

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-Ode to Grief #3-

The concubine and the musician passed each other outside the king's bedchamber. It was past midnight. The musician was on his way in, and the concubine was on her way out. Both were carted around in a litter, although for very different reasons.

Gao Jianli could not see her, but he knew a woman was there. He could smell her perfume and hear the creak of the sandalwood chair bouncing in time to the eunuchs’ footsteps. Her chair had only four pallbearers. Gao Jianli's had eight. That probably meant something, although he did not want to dwell on it.

He wished desperately that he could see her face, to know what she might be thinking. How he wished to see a face. Anyone's face.

The King of Qin amused himself liberally with the women, but they were never permitted to stay the night. He slept alone and kept a sword by his side. Gao Jianli knew this because the king had swung the sword at his face the first time he entered his bedchamber--to check that he was really blind. And he was, of course, so he hadn't flinched or even understood what was happening until a lock of his hair had fallen at his feet.

The king had relaxed after that, and thus began their present arrangement. Gao Jianli would arrive every night, kneel at the foot of the king’s bed and play for hours and hours on end, not leaving until dawn crept in, the crickets fell silent, and the birds picked up their chorus.

It was not wholly accurate to say that the king slept with no one. He slept with Gao Jianli—and the musician suspected that he could not sleep without Gao Jianli.

The king was drafting bills at his desk when Gao Jianli was announced and ushered inside. He could hear the rattling of the bamboo and the whisper of the brush. The faint smell of perfume still lingered in the room.

"Ah, good evening, Court Composer! No, no, please don’t ke tou. I’ve told you, it makes me feel stupid when people do that while I’m in my underwear.” The servants led Gao Jianli to his designated mat. Another handed him the zhu--which had been locked away and inspected every night--and he clung to it like a drowning man finding flotsam. The bamboo drumstick and taunt silk strings had become the only things that felt real in this terrifying new world of shades and vertigo. He only felt whole when his instruments were safely in his hands.

“How do you like your new clothes?" said the king.

"I’m sure they’re splendid, Your Highness, but I’m afraid their beauty is lost on me.”

The king laughed, “I mean, how do they feel? Are they comfortable? Easy to move in? I hope you don’t mind, but I had my tailor hem the coat a little higher than is proper so you wouldn’t trip over.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Your Highness,” Gao Jianli ran his hands over the zhu's wooden belly, checking it for any dents and scratches.

“The colour is very becoming. You look like a proper Sage of Music now.”

“His Highness does me too much honour,” No, no, no! Someone had tuned it wrong! The fourth string was painfully over-drawn, and Gao Jianli quickly eased it back, letting out a sigh of relief as the instrument was returned to its proper state.

“I say! It’s drafty in here, isn’t it?” The king rose and bustled about the room. Moments later, something soft and heavy was draped over Gao Jianli’s shoulders—one of the duvets from the bed. The smell of perfume was stronger now. A large wooden table was dragged over to his left side, plates rattling. “Would you like a snack? Let’s see, there’s beef, lamb, swan, wild boar, abalone, shark-fin…Please stop and rest as often as you wish—good health isn’t something gold can buy, you know!”

“I don’t want to eat.”

“Some tea, then,” the king poured him a cup and blew on it gently, “careful, it’s still quite hot.”

------------------------ [small pov shift! I'm going to try write this part with QSH's voice. lets see if all that roleplaying helped!]

The king settled back down at the desk and picked up his brush, although he was far too eager to resume his work. He watched Gao Jianli tune his instrument from the corner of his eye and played a little game with himself; what would the Sage of Music entertain him with tonight? The Kingdom of Yan, for all its sickening frivolity and excess, produced extraordinary artists. The fact that he had acquired their best and brightest star was just further proof of heaven's favour.

The musician shunned the stand, preferring to balance the zhu on his knees. One of his little idiosyncrasies. It muffled the sound somewhat, softening each note into something indescribably sweet and inviting.

Gao Jianli bowed his head, was still for a long moment, and did something he’d never done before. He opened his mouth and began to sing.

The king was rather taken aback. Unlike his legendary skills with the zhu, Gao Jianli’s voice was not a thing of breathless beauty or a technical marvel. It was reedy and feeble, fluttering like a moth in the vast, high-walled bedroom. He had obviously been crying—again--and his nose was stuffy. And yet, the sound was still utterly bewitching. The king sat forwards, his hands upon the desk, struggling to catch the words.

Wait. This was his song! Gao Jianli was singing Without Clothes, the Qin battle anthem. It was a simple, stout chant signifying the people’s willingness to go to war. The king had heard it sung by soldiers, a hundred thousand voices raised as one unified roar, fit to shake the heavens. He had never heard it sung like this, had never heard anything like this. This fervent, tearful whisper. The low, agonised keening of an injured beast. Gao Jianli touched the strings as if he was afraid they might break. The zhu in his lap wailed and wailed like a lost child. He played like a man in his death throes, gutted and slowly bleeding out.

“How can you say you have no clothes? I’ll share my coat with you. The king calls us to arms, I’ll prepare my axe and spear to fight with you.”

How can you say you have no clothes? I’ll share my shirt with you. The king calls us to arms, I’ll prepare my spear and halberd to stand with you.

How can you say you have no clothes? I’ll share my skirt with you. The king calls us to arms, I’ll don my armour and weapons to march with you.

And just like that, the song was over, and the last note petered into silence.

King Ying Zheng sat frozen in place, trembling from head to foot, unable to understand what he was feeling. His eyes stung, his throat ached as if it had been slit open, and his chest felt vice-tight. The closest he had ever felt like this was when that dagger-wielding madman chased him around the throne room, except this was much, much worse. It felt like someone had hacked off one of his limbs. Like a raw, jagged hole had been carved into his chest, leaving him hollow and so desperately empty.

Ying Zheng’s first instinct was to have Gao Jianli dragged out and executed. No. That wasn’t enough. He needed to cut off the hands of every musician in the country and throw their instruments onto a flaming pyre. He was a fool to think he would be safe by taking Gao Jianli’s eyes. He should have torn out his tongue and locked that wretched thing away inside a box of salt, right next to Gao Jianli’s treacherous heart.

“Play it again,” Ying Zheng said hoarsely.

“No.”

“No?”

“It can’t be done.”

The king’s voice was dangerously soft, “can’t be done, or you won’t do it?”

“Both, I suppose.”

Ying Zheng was on his feet, scattering the bamboo books and brushes with a clatter. Hearing the commotion, the guards rushed into the room. The king held them off.

“I have been more than lenient with you, Court Composer,” he hissed. “I have spared your life and given you the honour of serving me. I shower you with gifts and treat you with every courtesy, yet you have shown me nothing but contempt. First, you sing this seditious song and now you dare to defy me. You will play it again. Your King commands it.”

Gao Jianli sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaving a shiny trail of snot on the silk Ying Zheng had personally picked out for him. He was still weeping softly.

“Command the oceans to empty,” he said, “command the sun to run backwards in the sky. Command the dead to rise from their graves and bid them to speak. Once you have done all that, I will play this song again.”

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

Notes: the emperor's shadow has reached into my brain and rearranged ALL my neurones. here is the song gao jianli is singing. As you can see, I've changed the words slightly because my focus is on flow rather than accuracy. the biggest change is "the king calls us to arms" I've done it to give the song more immediacy and also to reflect the intent of the original "the king is summoning eager warriors."

#chinese history #qin shi huang #my writing #the emperor's shadow #jing ke #gao jianli #all musicians in 200 BC know how to do is cry. lament their dead lover. plot regicide. be bisexual and lie!!!!!#brb new QSH shitpost idea #we did it boys! we sung the ode to grief. hit the showers (and the king)

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ladyloveandjustice · 1 year

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Anime Recommendation: Raven of the Inner Palace

I said I wanted to give this one more attention since it got lost in the shuffle of last season, so here we go! Raven of the Inner Palace is a supernatural mystery series set in a fantastical version of ancient China. It’s bursting with ghosts, bloody demises and courtly intrigue. It’s fast-paced, dramatic, beautiful, and has some heartwarming character development at its’ core. If you want an extra reason to give it some love, it’s an adaptation of a story aimed at women, which is increasingly rare in the modern anime landscape.

The series follows a mysterious woman dubbed “The Raven Consort”. She’s isolated and confined to the inner palace, and (as the intro narration likes to remind you), she’s skilled at the mystic arts and does not have any nighttime duties despite her title (meaning she doesn’t have to sleep with the Emperor, or even answer to him). Even the new Emperor, who only just recently retook the throne after being ousted by a spiteful relative, has no idea who she is or what her true role in the court is, but he’s understandably intrigued.

If you like ghosts, episodic supernatural dramas that form a larger mythological arc, cut-throat palace politics, careful character development, and/or sweet romances that develop from a strong friendship, this a show for you. The general premise of the series is the Emperor or another court official will come to Shoxue, the Raven Consort, with news of a ghost, and she’ll figure out how to help the ghost cross to the other side (or in some cases, forcefully exorcise them). As Shoxue solves these problems, we learn more about her, how she came to be the Raven Consort, and the terrible truth behind her role.

If you know anything about ancient Chinese imperial history, you have probably accurately guessed the show gets very dark. There’s tons of suicides, beheadings and other executions, people being persecuted, servants being tormented and so on. Probably the biggest thing to warn for is that one of the eunuch’s backstories involves csa. The show always treats it seriously and rarely gets graphic all about it, though the show’s final episodes have a few surprisingly bloody moments. (Also one of the problems of the week involves romanticized sibling incest- it’s easy to miss the line referencing it, and it doesn’t end well for them, but still something note).

It doesn’t feel like edginess for the sake of edginess though, just an acknowledgement of the consequences of the rigid social roles the characters adhere to, and a natural extension of the commentary on the rigid role Shoxue herself is forced into. When her backstory is revealed, it definitely feels like there’s some commentary on how women with power are punished, though we don’t get far enough in the story to see if the anything meaningful will come of it.

And amidst all the drama, there’s something sweet going on here- throughout the show, we see Shoxue slowly go from someone who’s completely isolated to someone who forms warm connections with not just the emperor, but a variety of new friends who see past the creepy stigma surrounding her. Seeing Shoxue awkwardly navigate her new relationships is part of the charm of the series.

Also, they do this cool thing where the little flashback tales are done like Chinese shadow puppets:

The Emperor is definitely set up as Shoxue’s love interest. The first episode has him act a little pushier than he will for the rest of the series (they do the ‘it seems like he’s going to come on to her in bed but he actually just falls asleep” thing). During the rest of the episodes, he seems to want to be her friend first and foremost before going further and tries not to push her too much. It just becomes a sweet underlying relationship where they try to understand each other. Shoxue leans a little into mild tsundere stereotypes at times, but there’s good reasoning given for why she’s so prickly. And there’s hints at the Emperor having his own emotional struggles, and that the power he wields might cause issues that divide them down the line, so it would be interesting to see where that goes.

It's overall an elegant, slightly spooky character drama. The anime has a quick pace- often throwing a lot of information at you and insisting you keep up- but that also means it’s never boring, and the animation can be quite nice and fits the ethereal nature of the show. If anything in here sounds like your jam, I strongly recommend you check it out!

#raven of the inner palace #kokyu no karasu #anime #my reviews #anime overview #fall 2022 anime #recs

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liaa--qb · 9 months

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'The Viper and nightingale game '

[ Dark mean Aemond x strong niece] Part 4

chapter 4 : first heart break

Summary : Rheawina recalls her sweet and sour childhood moments. (We will go through their childhood memories )

( likes, comments and sharing would be appreciated🧡)

[ chapter 3 link]

**********************************************

It was amusing how she should have been with Jace and Luke, her brothers, but here she was, the first to reach him. Aemond abandoned his punching for a moment but then picked up a decayed, hefty sword, using it forcefully against a large rock, his voice dripping with disdain. "Those lowborn fools had the audacity to claim that a boy without a dragon is like a eunuch—no manhood to speak of. These wretched bastards dared say this to me, the prince."

His sword strikes grew louder and more aggressive, unsettling Rhaewina, as if his cursing weren't alarming enough. Aemond rarely used such strong language in front of his elders or other people, but in private, he often vented his frustrations. Still, he had never been this crude in her presence or Helaena's.

She stepped closer, attempting to touch his arm with her gentle hand. "I told you not to take them seriously. Their words can't define you. You surpass them in every conceivable way. My mother has always told me that having dragons doesn't make anyone courageous. She loves me for who I am, regardless. You don't need to let their words consume you entirely."

Her soothing words did little to calm his fury, as his response made evident. "Huh! Easy for a lady whose sons both have dragons and get everything they desire without hesitation, unlike me"

His words stung, and she hadn't expected such a response, particularly about her mother, who was also his sister. How could he say such things? Yes, he was angry, but he had no right to speak ill of her mother. She fired back with determination, "What do you mean by that? I don't have a dragon either. I've never shed a tear in front of her because of a dragon. You excel in everything, yet you harbor jealousy toward Jace, Aegon, and the others. Why ? You're never content with yourself, and that's your issue. Don't speak ill of my brothers and mother"

Aemond replied with a mirthless laugh, recognizing something. "Of course, how could you understand...could you? You certainly can't."

She yearned to comprehend the meaning behind his words. What could there possibly be that she wouldn't grasp?

Though Rhaewina was just a child, her youthful heart imbued her with the belief that she could conquer anything, achieve anything. She had never regarded herself as inferior. Her age might pose some limitations in understanding certain matters, but she always tried her best, listened intently, and feigned comprehension when necessary.

Overflowing with eagerness, she implored, "What ?... What won't I understand? Please tell me. I promise not to tell anyone. I'll even share my secret with you. Please, just tell me !"

Aemond gazed at her, pondering for a moment before finally speaking, "Helaena. Helaena is going to marry Aegon. There's talk of it throughout the Red Keep." He looked downward, as though losing something.

Rhaewina was aware of this, but she couldn't discern the connection. "So what? I do feel bad for her, but they'll surely take care of each other with time. Don't worry about her; she'll be happy," she reassured.

Aemond interrupted her, his tone seething with frustration. "I don't want her to marry Aegon... I want to marry her. Aegon doesn't deserve her... he doesn't deserve anything he's getting. I'll take care of Helaena better. Even Jace was asked for her hand in marriage, not me. And Mother didn't even tell me about this. All these low, contemptible boys were taunting me..."

He paused, clenching his fists, his anger palpable. "They said I wasn't asked for her hand because I don't have a dragon. They claimed that a targaryen boy without a dragon has no manhood. That's why Helaena would never marry me. They all laughed, they all damn well laughed. How dare they? How can they even be alive after saying such things?" this almost came as a shout from his mouth.

Aemond's fists were red with anger, but for Rhaewina, everything came to a halt at that moment. Her little heart felt like it was on the verge of shattering. Tears welled up in her eyes. What she had just heard wasn't what she had expected. Aemond liked Helaena and wanted to marry her. This notion wounded her deeply, beginning to break her fragile heart. She didn't comprehend why this was happening or why she felt such anguish. She wanted to cry out loud, to reach out to Aemond, but she didn't know how to deal with this pain.

She simply hung her head, clutching her skirt tightly to keep from breaking down right there. She didn't want to reveal this vulnerability to Aemond, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back her tears. They refused to be contained.

Aemond continued to pour out his anguish, oblivious to the fact that someone else nearby was also suffering. "I'm telling you, she would never be happy with Aegon," he lamented. "While Helaena and I would have been such a better match. She's lovely, so soft-spoken, an angel descended from heaven itself. Sometimes she shares these unique views that I find absolutely amazing. No one else understands, but I try to appreciate them just to make her happy. Aegon mocks her for it, you know? I understand that her thoughts are simply beautiful musings from her own world, but I love to indulge her and myself by calling her a dreamer just to bring happiness to her. She deserves happiness and nothing less.

She's a Targaryen princess, and I am a Targaryen prince. Our betrothal would have been perfect... so perfect. It would have helped us preserve our Valyrian bloodline's purity. Why can't anyone understand that ? They were even discussing your grandsire, the king, considering Jace for it. Why, and not me ?"

He turned to Rhaewina, his grip tightening on her shoulder as he continued, "Tell me now, why shouldn't I have Helaena just because I don't have a dragon? Why should everything I desire be handed over to someone else just because I lack a dragon ? The dragon has always been a dream for me, a symbol of power and our Targaryen heritage. I wanted it because I loved it, the thrill of riding and soaring high in the sky. But why has it become a necessity now? Tell me !". His beautiful blue eyes were full of anger and pain now, looking like they were becoming darker sec by sec.

Aemond, though for just a 10-year-old boy, had rough hands through cuts and training that now clung tightly to her delicate shoulders. Her tears refused to recede as he pressed her with these questions. She attempted to speak, but her words emerged as sobbing whispers, her voice trembling. "Yes, they are wrong, Aemond... I... I need to go for my dance lessons"

She couldn't endure any more of this conversation. She was on the verge of tears. Pushing Aemond's hand down, she hurriedly fled from the scene. Aemond, deeply saddened by his own predicament, was taken aback by her reaction. He watched her run away but couldn't muster any further concern at the moment. His own pain weighed heavily on him, reinforcing the belief that no one wanted to be close to him anymore. He resumed striking the rock with his sword.

*******************************************************************

Some days later :

In the days that followed, Rhaewina refrained from speaking to Aemond. She gravitated more towards her group of friends, silently finding comfort in the company of Felicia and Joyce. She was profoundly sad, a feeling she couldn't shake. It was astonishing that she even distanced herself from Helaena, her closest friend and dearest sister. The girls who used to be inseparable were now worlds apart, one engrossed in wedding preparations, and the other... well, call it jealousy. She loved Helaena deeply and cared for her, but after the incident, she needed some space. It was the first time she ever doubted herself. She wondered what Helaena possessed that she didn't. Perhaps it was because Helaena was older, or maybe it was something else. These thoughts gnawed at her, and it hurt her to think about how dedicated Aemond was to Helaena.

Many times during these days, she didn't even catch sight of Aemond with the boys during their breaks between training, a clear sign that he was with Helaena. While she sat with her friends and handmaidens. Her heart ached, thinking about how devoted Aemond was to Helaena.

As the wedding ceremony approached, many noble houses were arriving as guests. Even Maris and her sisters attended. Felicia, toying with her necklace, looked at Maris with excitement and asked, "Hey, did you see Prince Aemond?"

Maris replied irritably, "Yes, we went to meet Helaena, who was selecting her rings. I found Aemond there too. He was helping her with everything. I don't understand why ? When Helaena has handmaidens and other private maids, he's there with her the whole time, sticking to her like glue. What does he have to do with a girl's jewelry? The queen asked Aemond to escort me and my sisters to the hall and guide us for our first visit to King's Landing, but after the queen left, he told his servant to take care of that task and said he had to be with Helaena because it was important. She needed him"

Joyce couldn't help but laugh. "Maris, dear, he always does this with you. It's a bit sad. Maybe you should consider waiting for Prince Daeron to grow up."

This comment prompted peals of taunting laughter, even from Maris's sisters. Maris retorted angrily, "I'm not going to follow him around everywhere. Yes, I like him, but his attitude can be insufferable sometimes. What's with his arrogance? Being skilled with a sword and a Valyrian prince isn't that extraordinary. Even a commoner could outfight those Targaryen princes, wielding their Blackfyres and Dark Sisters. Didn't you all see how Ser Criston Cole easily bested Prince Daemon twice, despite the prince having better weapons and the famous Dark Sister that everyone raves about? Aemond doesn't even have a dragon now."

In a seemingly inconsequential moment, Maris's little sister Floris chimed in, looking perplexed. "But sister, he's not that bad. He once told me that I was quite pretty compared to other princesses he had seen when he visited us last time. He even bought me a rose when I couldn't reach it on a tall branch because, you know, I'm short."

Maris swiftly scolded her sister, giving her a playful hit on the back, saying, "Shut up! Stop interrupting me."

Joyce couldn't resist adding, "See, Maris, this is what happens behind your back. Poor you." Laughter echoed among the young princesses once more.

Despite the unfolding events, Rhaewina's heartache grew steadily. Maris's gossip only intensified her melancholy. She couldn't help but ponder why Aemond didn't see her as more than a friend. Why was Helaena, in his eyes, so breathtakingly beautiful that she felt invisible whenever they were together? Did Aemond find Helaena's dreams and fantasies more enchanting? Did he believe that Rhaewina might marry someone else? These thoughts gnawed at her, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to bear.Right now in her daydreams she was somewhere else.. lost in thoughts:

How much care is he taking of Helaena? Does Helaena know this? If so, why isn't she fighting with the queen to stop her marriage preparations with Aegon? I wouldn't have married someone else in any way if Aemond had ever cherished me like this. I would even fight for him. We would run away with each other to Pentos or the North if no one allowed us to marry. Aemond would definitely fight for me with everyone else because if he loves something, not even the Gods can take it away from him. We will live together far away in another beautiful palace.

Aemond would build a grand palace for me on my nameday. I would ask him to add more lakes and all types of pretty flowers there, even more than the Red Keep. He might be initially against the idea of having a huge bunch of flowers everywhere, but I would make him agree, as I always do. Our palace would be immense with white and rosy walls, large gardens filled with lakes and swans. It would be the most beautiful palace among all the kingdoms. He would keep me safe and bring me gifts daily, especially a necklace; I want him to give me a beautiful necklace. Later, if the Gods will provide Aemond with his dragon, he would take me far away from these boys if they tried to force me to marry any of them. I might ask Aemond to protect me by dealing with them on my behalf. Wouldn't it be right for me to be happy if he killed people on my behalf?

As a crown princess, it's wrong of me, but if other men hurt me, then it's right for Aemond to take action. I might be sitting behind Aemond on his dragon. Which dragon would Aemond choose? It should be more beautiful than Sunfyre. Aemond said he would love Cannibal, but that's too scary. I don't know what his obsession is with dangerous dragons like Cannibal and Vermithor. Last time, he was bragging about Grey Ghost... Eww, dear God! He should stay away from those huge, horrible-looking beasts. He's small, and they could harm him so badly. I dearly wish he gets a dragon like Syrax or Sunfyre, someone really slender and beautiful, if he's against hatchlings.

Her reverie was abruptly interrupted by Maris calling her name urgently, "Rhaewina... Rhaewina, our clown princess, are you listening?" Rhaewina reluctantly returned to the present, her eyes clouded with disinterest. "What, Maris?"

Maris rolled her eyes and continued, "They were telling me that you're going to marry Aemond. Is it true? Do you and Prince Aemond have feelings for each other? Did your favorite grandsire suggest this?"

Felicia couldn't help but join the conversation with a teasing tone, "Maris, you see, now you don't stand a chance. Even our clown princess likes Prince Aemond. Aemond, who barely talks to princesses, and is notoriously difficult to approach, liked Floris more than you. He'd probably ask his favorite little brother Daeron to marry Floris instead of you now"

Maris's irritation was palpable, and she responded sharply, "Felicia, shut your mouth. I'm not desperate to marry any prince, especially a dragonless Targaryen prince. Prince Lucerys might be little clumsy and small, but he still has his dragon. It's a disgrace if Aemond never acquires one. What's the point of his marriage then? He's the second prince, after all. I, on the other hand, have Blackwoods as an option."

Maris turned her attention to Rhaewina, her tone more serious, "Tell me, Rhaewina, are you planning to marry Aemond? Is that right?.. I would advise against it. Why don't you consider Jacaerys? You Targaryens have your customs, right?". After a pause while looking at her friends she continued " I'm just saying that if you wanted to stay within your house... I mean, you and Jacaerys would be a suitable match. Even Lucerys, perhaps. They seem more like your type, don't you think?"

The others in the group nodded and chimed in with agreements, sharing a small giggle. Rhaewina, although dying inside, pretended to go along with the conversation, wearing a fake smile. She had to keep up appearances, even if it meant hiding her true feelings. "No, Maris, you're absolutely right. While I might have considered Aemond at some point, I don't see it now. I think you've made a valid point. As for my brother Lucerys, I can't say, but I'm open to other possibilities. Don't worry about Aemond; he's just preoccupied with Helaena, his dearest sister. I care for her deeply as well, which is why he's probably not able to spend time with you. I also know that Aemond cares for you, and someday, you two might find happiness together. After all, our queen holds House Baratheon in high regard, even more than the Lannisters and Strong."

As she uttered these words, Rhaewina couldn't believe how she managed to speak so convincingly, concealing the turmoil within her.

#house of dragons #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x fem!oc #aemond x fem!reader #dark aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #yandere aemond targaryen #possessive love

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pompomqt · 3 months

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Journey to the West Chapter 29

So, no Sun Wukong?

I miss that Funky Little Monkey Man already :(

In this chapter of Journey to the West with @journeythroughjourneytothewest we continue to see how the pilgrimage is fairing with Sun Wukong absent. So let's get into it shall we?

So we begin this chapter where we left off last time, with Sandy and Pigsy battling it out with the Yellow Robe Demon. Unfortunately Sandy and Pigsy are no match for this demon, but fortunately they have the help of all the deities who are on ' Tang Monk Protection Duty' helping them out, so they are able to fight the demon to a standstill.

Meanwhile said Tang Monk is having a good cry and wondering what his to disciples are doing and if they are going to be able to rescue him soon. Before to long however a young woman walks in and asks him why he's here. At first Tripitaka is rather worried the woman plans to eat him, but luckily the girl isn't a demon like the last girl he talked to. Instead it turns out she's a kidnapped princess from a nearby kingdom, who was brought here and forced to be the demon's wife. In exchange for this information, Tripitaka tells the girl his own tragic backstory, about how he is on a mission to get scriptures from the west, but was kidnapped by this demon to be eaten.

Fortunately the girl is willing to talk her husband into letting him go free in exchange for Tripitaka delivering a letter to her family when he passes through her old kingdom on his journey. Tripitaka of course agrees to this deal, so the girl writes a letter and then unties Tripitaka and gives it to him. That done, the girl tells him to leave out the back door so that he doesn't run into all the little demon minions who would probably just kill him on the spot. So while Tripitaka leaves out the back and then proceeds to hide in a bush, the Princess goes out front to talk her husband into letting the three of them go.

In order to convince her demon husband to let the monks go, she tells him a story about how when she was young she made a vow that if she found a good husband she would feed the monks. And how she had a dream just now where a deity demanded that she fulfill that vow. And when she woke up with a start she saw the monk tied to the pillar, she realized this must be how she is meant to fulfill her vow. So will he pretty please let them all go for her sake?

Thankfully the Demon is willing to agree to this, he can eat any old human whenever he wants to, so it's not that big of a deal to let these ones go. He then tells Sandy and Pigsy to take their master and scram and that he'll spare them this time for his wife's sake but warns them not to trespass on his property ever again. Sand and Pigsy are more then happy to heed the demon's words, so they out the back to look for Tripitaka and find him in a bush. Then the party wisely high tails it out of there.

A while later they finally make it to the Princess's kingdom. While there Tripitaka asks for an audience with the throne in order to get his travel papers certified. When the King hears that there is an illustrious monk from the great Tang Kingdom he is more then happy to meet with him. After Tripitaka tells him his story and shows him his papers, the King stamps them with his approval. With that taken care of, Tripitaka also says he has a family letter for the king, from his third daughter who was kidnapped by the Yellow Robe Demon.

The King is happy to finally know what happened to his daughter, pity he couldn't have learned that before he put all those ladies in waiting and eunuchs to death though. Before now he sort of just assumed she'd left on her own and gotten lost or something, not that she was kidnapped. Anyways the court reads the letter, and by the end of it the king is crying. Unfortunately none of his men are willing to go on a suicide mission to try and rescue her from the demon. Eventually one of them thinks to ask if Tripitaka can do it, after all he made it all the way here safely, so surely he has some method for subduing demons?

So the King asks if Tripitaka is capable of fighting the monster and saving the princess. And even says he's willing to become bond brothers with Tripitaka if he succeeds. Tripitaka admits that while he's a good monk, he doesn't really know how to fight monsters. And when the King asks how he got all the way here then, Tripitaka tells him he has two disciples two help him on his difficult journey.

The King asks why he didn't bring his two disciples in with him, and Tripitaka says it's because they are so frighteningly ugly that he didn't want to bring them in without permission in case it offended or frightened them. The King isn't to worried, because he's probably under the impression that they are just talking about normal human ugliness. And even when Tripitaka describes what they look like, the king still feels well equipped to handle them with that description in hand, and insists that Tripitaka summon them in. So Sand and Pigsy come in and give the king a single bow, which is pretty rude of them to act that way towards a king, but the king is so frightened of them he even falls off his couch lol. So much for the warning from Tripitaka.

Tripitaka is of course mortified by all this and prostates himself before the king and apologizes, saying he knew something like this would happen. The King is pretty understanding though, after all Tripitaka did warn him, so soon enough they are all able to move past this. After the King recovers from his fright he asks Sandy and Pigsy which one of them knows how to subdue monsters. Pigsy of course takes the opportunity to brag about how great he is and even shows off his thirty six transformation magic and rake. This thoroughly convinces the king that Pigsy is well equipped to handle the yellow robed demon!

So the king offers Pigsy some wine and says they will throw a banquet when Pigsy returns with the demon defeated and the princess in hand. Pigsy is at least polite enough to offer Tripitaka some wine first, but Tripitaka doesn't drink so he lets Pigsy and Sandy have it all. With that Pigsy uses his cloud soaring to be on his way.

After Pigsy leaves, Sandy clues Tripitaka in on the fact that when they fought the demon before they were only able to battle him to a draw with both of them together, so he fears Pigsy alone won't be able to win. Hearing this, Tripitaka gives Sandy permission to go after Pigsy and assist him. So with that Sandy also cloud soars away. Seeing this the King becomes alarmed and begs Tripitaka to not also go flying away, and Tripitaka assures him he couldn't even if he wanted to. Tripitaka is more then happy to stay behind on this adventure and just chat with the king for a while.

Meanwhile Sandy catches up with Pigsy and tells him that Tripitaka told him to assist him and Pigsy is more then happy to accept his help. Together the two of them break down the demon's front door. The little minion demons of course go and report this to their boss that the two ugly monks are back. The Demon is surprised and wonders what they are doing here since he already released their master. A minion demon suggests that maybe they forgot something? The Big Boss Demon points out that you don't break down someones door just because you left something at their house. So the demon gets dressed in his armor and goes out to asks them why they are here.

Pigsy meanwhile shouts that they are here because they abducted a princess and forced her to be his wife (similar to how Pigsy got his own wife....) Anyways Pigsy tells him to tie himself up and surrender. The Demon of course doesn't do that, and instead goes on the offensive and the battle begins. However the battle is going even worse then last time, after all the deities that were helping them previously are currently staying in the kingdom with Tripitaka, so it's just the two of them this time, and Pigsy is rapidly losing stamina.

So Pigsy passes the buck to Sandy and bails. So with Pigsy now fleeing like a coward, Sandy is of course immediately overwhelmed and captured by the demon.

Current Sun Wukong Stats: Names/Titles: Monkey, The Stone Monkey, The Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong (Monkey awakened to the void), Bimawen (Banhorseplague), The Great Sage Equal To Heaven and Pilgrim Sun. Immortality: 5 + 94,000 years. Weapon: The Compliant Golden Hooped Rod Abilities: 72 Transformations, Cloud-Somersault, Ability to transform his individual hairs, super strength, Ability to Summon Wind, Water restriction charm, and the ability to change into a huge war form, ability to duplicate his staff, ability to immobilize others, the ability to put others to sleep, and the Fiery eyes and Diamond Pupils, intimidating horses, churning large bodies of water, sleeplessness, seizing the wind, enhanced smell, discerning good and evil within a thousand miles, Spirit Summoning, lock picking, and object transformation. Demon Kill Count: 5+ Unknown Number of Minions Human Kill Count: 1006 God's Defeated: 19 + Unknown number Defeats: 3 Crime List: Robbery, Murder, Mass Murder, Arson, Theft, Coercion, Threatening a Government Official, Resisting Arrest, Assault, Forgery, Employee Theft, False Imprisonment, Impersonating a Government Official, Treason, attempted murder, failure to control or report a dangerous fire, desecrating a corpse, breaking and entering, trespassing, violating Tree Law and looting corpses. Cry Count: 4 Mountains Trapped Under: 1

Current Tang Sanzang stats: Names/Titles: River Float, Xuanzang, Tang Sanzang, Tripitaka Abilities: Curing Blindness, making branches point a certain direction (allegedly), reciting sutras, pretty privilege, memorization and Heart Sutra. Cry Count: 16 Tight Fillet Spell Uses: 27 Paralyzed by fear: 5 Bandit Problems: 2 Kidnapped by demons: 3 Falling Off Horses: 6

Current Bai Long Ma Stats: Names/Titles: Bai Long Ma (White Dragon Horse), Prince of the Western Ocean, and third prince jade dragon of the dragon king Aorun Abilities: Transforming into a human, a water snake, and a horse, eating a horse in one bite, and flight. Crime List: Arson, and Grave Disobedience. Contributions to the plot: 1

Current Zhu Wuneng Stats: Names/Titles: The Marshal of the Heavenly Reeds, Zhu Wuneng (Pig who is aware of ability), Zhu Ganglie, Pigsy, Idiot and Eight Rules. Weapon: Rake Abilities: 36 Transformations, parting water, fighting underwater, cloud soaring and size enhancement Demon Kill Count/Kill steals: 1 Failed Flirtation/romances Attempts: 3 Cry Count: 1 Crime List: Sexual Harassment, Murder, Kidnapping and arson.

Current Sha Wujing Stats: Names/Titles: The Curtain-Raising General, Sha Wujing (Sand Aware of Purity), Sandy and Sha Monk Weapon: Monster Taming Staff Abilities: Fighting underwater and Cloud soaring. Kidnapped by Demons: 1 Crime List: Breaking a Crystal Cup, murder, and desecration of a human corpse.

#journey to the west #jttw #jttw read through #journeythroughjourneytothewest #tang sanzang #zhu wuneng #sha wujing #Tripitaka neglected to mention to the king that the disciple who did most of the heavy lifting to get them here #is no longer with them #in fact the only demon they've fought without wukong #and they had to be rescued by the princess who they are now going to try and rescue

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