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daycourtofficial · 5 days ago

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An Autumn Courting

Pairing: Eris x winter court!reader | WC: 12.5k | warnings: sexual tones, mentions of hunting

Summary: coming into his role as High Lord of the Autumn Court, the first thing Eris does is make a proposal of marriage to you, something you’re going to make him work for.

A/N: this has been in my drafts since October 2023, I’m so glad to let this be out in the world. Happy @sjmxreaderweek !! This is way too long but enjoy anyway

Eris Vanserra had three soft spots.

First: his mother - a female who spent her life trying to make his better. The first and perhaps only person to show him pure, unconditional love. Someone who did not balk at the terrible things he had to do and endure to survive. One of his most complicated and long lasting relationships where nothing truly made sense.

Second: Lucien. He had a soft spot for all of his brothers when they were born. Being raised by Beron sucked the life from most of them. He watched as they slowly became apathetic at best, cruel at worst. All except Lucien.

Lucien, his baby brother, who remained a good, loyal male, despite everything Beron tried to do to him. Lucien, who looked at him with wide eyes and a big heart. Lucien - his first contact leading up to his father’s death, the only person he wanted there.

Third: his hounds.

Eris adored his hounds. He spent thousands of hours training them, breeding them, and preparing for the next litter. Their kennels were a refuge for him, a place no one in the family ever ventured out to. Only a handful of servants ever got close and they merely mucked out the stalls and changed feed for the dogs. They were the first things to ever truly be his.

Eris had three soft spots. Now it was four.

Your continued presence, skirting on the outside of his periphery for years meant more to him than you could ever possibly know. The only fae willing to talk back to him but keep a twinkle in their eye.

He spent years trying to figure out why your eyes plagued his dreams, how the wind would blow past carrying your laugh. He could never quite pinpoint an exact reason.

Staying away from you during court events was the best course of action for everyone. He knew if he got too close to you, Beron would notice and insist on exploiting this weakness of Eris’s by either a) trying to arrange a marriage between the two of you, putting you under Beron’s control and driving Eris further under Beron’s thumb, or b) keep you far away from Eris.

He knew which one was worse.

You had known Eris for centuries, a tenuous friendship due to his lack of trust and your uncertainty as to where you stood with him. Something inside of you always felt there was more to him than the mask he wore to the public, but you could never truly be certain if it was just naivety and hopefulness.

Years of seeing each other at inter-court events, culminated in the two of you finding each other, having occasional moments that left you wanting to see more of him. You could never linger together for too long, lest Beron catch on to how his eldest son’s eyes bore into yours for a second longer than appropriate. Every meeting, dance, or word shared between you two always left you flustered, every moment shared was dissected at length afterward.

One night, while under the mountain, Eris took a risk and found you in your chambers. He had to know that you were okay - as okay as one could be in such an environment. He was used to this environment- he knew how to play the game, how to endure the atrocities in front of him. But you didn’t.

Eris had pushed his way into your chambers, quickly shutting the door behind himself. The intrusion had left you so flustered, you ran to him, prepared to chastise him.

Instead he grabbed your shoulders, quickly spinning you before he rested your back against the door, ensuring no one could burst in without his knowledge. He caged you in with his arms on either side of you, his amber eyes roaming your face, inspecting for injuries.

“I don’t have much time. But if this ever ends, it will not be long until I put the pieces into place to better my position.”

You understood the meaning behind his words, ones too worried to utter the real truth out loud.

He was going to kill Beron. Or someone was.

You knew he was concerned about ears in this place, so he didn’t speak freely.

“I cannot promise you much, but if you wait, I will do things properly. But I would not hold it against you if you cannot wait.”

He hung his head, his long, red hair falling into his face before taking a deep breath and slipping out the door before you could say anything.

So, you waited.

You had survived the atrocities that happened under that cauldron-forsaken mountain and helped your brother Kallias rebuild the Winter court.

Then the war with Hybern happened. You continued your work trying to provide security and sanctuary to your citizens, but it was hard and draining.

The years carried on, until one day Kallias was called off quite quickly by mail, leaving you and Vivian quite confused but not for long. News of the death of Beron Vanserra traveled quite quickly through all of Prythian.

Kallias had returned for mere minutes before a letter arrived in front of you, a second one appearing in front of Kallias a moment later.

The envelope was sealed with the Autumn Court insignia, one that you’ve admired for many years now: a fox curling around a fire. It felt homey.

It was the Court’s official crest - and the Vanserra family’s familial crest resembled it. You broke the seal, reading the letter.

Fawn,

It is my hope that this letter finds you in good spirits and good health. I am writing this as a formal declaration of my intentions.

With your agreement, it is my intention to court and wed you, making you the Lady of the Autumn Court. It would be my honor to serve my court as your husband with you at my side.

This decision lies solely with you. I have, however, written a similar letter to your high lord, Kallias, so he will not feel blindsided should you accept.

Take your time over this decision. I will be busy in the coming weeks, adjusting to life as High Lord, however I will make whatever time is necessary for you shall you wish it.

Yours,

Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court

You smiled at the title in his signature, sure that this was the first time he got to write it out.

Your eyes glanced up to find Viviane and Kallias’s peaking glances at you as they read the letter Eris had sent them.

“It would appear as though you’ve caught the eye of Prythian’s newest High Lord.”

It was no question that you would attend his coronation. Autumn was a direct border to Winter and Kallias had been waiting decades for Beron to die to potentially work with one of his sons on building better relations. He had always hoped it would be Lucien, the easiest and most diplomatic Vanserra. The two had a working relationship and he would be a lovely neighboring ruler.

During the whole affair, Eris’s eyes hardly strayed from yours. They followed you, not straying to any of the hundreds of fae gathered, not to the other court nobility that had arrived.

Just you.

His eyes had followed you as you lingered after the ceremony, finding Lucien just as the letter had instructed. You kept his gaze as you spoke to the youngest Vanserra, giving him the answer to Eris’s letter. You nodded just enough for the new High Lord to see, and his posture immediately relaxed. You stood taller knowing on a day all about him, he clearly had only been thinking of you.

You had written back to Eris after the coronation quite quickly, much more quickly than a proper lady should, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Excitement coursed through your body, almost impossible to sit still.

Corresponding with Eris was more fun than you had anticipated. It took a few letters, but he began opening up more and more, telling you stories about his day or some memory long forgotten. Most letters include some story about Lucien, but they felt much more relaxed than the version of him you knew at court events. He even stopped signing them with his full name, shortening it to just ‘Eris’ eventually.

You had made the mistake of mentioning to Kallias about Eris’s intentions. Your brother had been upset at first to find out his sister had caught the eye of a Vanserra - he had never trusted the family, always on guard in their presence. But when he heard the words ‘courting’ and ‘traditional’, you swore his eyes danced with amusement as he plotted something.

Official courting was very similar across Prythian, with minor details changed for each court. For members of nobility and highly esteemed families of the Winter Court, it was usual custom for the betrothed pair to visit each other’s villages. Time spent partaking in the customs of each village was essential - life in Winter could often feel very insular. Villages less than a day’s travel from each other could be quite different, even language differences occurring. Holidays across the court looked similar to outsiders, but traditions held a wide range of activities.

Kallias would allow you to do as you wished as long as you weren’t tricked or coerced into anything. However, your brother would make Eris regret his exact words of a ‘traditional courting’.

Eris had agreed to the terms, but sent many letters about his brother in forewarning and to not take him seriously. Having met the youngest Vanserra on several occasions, you were well prepared for what he might do.

An agreement was formed - Eris was to spend two weeks in Winter before you would spend two weeks in Autumn. At that point, you would provide some form of answer. You had some idea of what you would say - you wouldn’t be wasting everyone’s time otherwise. But it would be foolish and rash to wed without spending any time alone with the male.

Eris was set to arrive in a week’s time, coming to your home, coming to Winter. It felt surreal, not quite allowing yourself to believe it until the male was standing before you. A week was nothing for a High Lord - Kallias’s visits to other courts usually required several months of notice. But seven days still felt too long after seeing him at the coronation. You did anything to make yourself busy - planning activities for the two of you, reassuring your brother once again that this was what you wanted, trying to showcase Winter in the best light.

Still, every night when you laid in bed, everytime you closed your eyes, you were brought back to the coronation, how his eyes followed you across the room. A room full of the most powerful and important people in Prythian, and his gaze never left yours.

You hardly slept the night before he was set to arrive, waking with the sun as if it would bring Eris here more quickly. The morning went by at a snail’s pace, the palace unhurried for the day. You had bathed, dried your hair, paced around, tidied your room. You did anything you could think to keep busy, to keep your mind off the clock.

Eventually enough time passed for you to make it to breakfast, sitting across from Kallias and Vivianne’s amused glances. They chatted idly, amused smiles directed at you that you pretended to ignore. You only pushed the food around on your plate, watching the sun through the window, trying to will it to move faster.

“Something wrong?” Kallias’s question made its way through the fog, the only words he had spoken you had been able to make sense of.

“Sure, sure.” You waved him off with your fork, eyes moving to the entryway to the dining room every so often. He laughed, amused at how little you were listening to them, but you had tuned him out once more. Doubt crept in as each second passed, your anxieties certain something would keep the two of you apart. Had he changed his mind? Was it all in the chase for a hunter like him?

As if your doubts had conjured him, he was striding through the entrance hall, his red hair practically melting the walls as he went past. Over the years, you had seen Eris in a variety of wardrobe: deep reds ranging to bright green, a variety of embroidery threads on every piece. He made every color his own, gravitating towards richer, earthier shades. The dark blue jacket that hung from his shoulders made the color seem so new and exotic, despite being a significant portion of your own wardrobe. The depth of color popped beneath his pale skin somehow, unjustly proving there truly was no color he couldn’t make his own.

The piece looked like anything you would find in Winter, but somehow like nothing you had ever seen before.

He had looked so sure of himself at the coronation, steadfast in a way a High Lord needed to be. In the few weeks since, he had somehow grown even more into himself, standing tall and sharp. His hair was much shorter now than it was under the mountain, the weight of that place chopped off with the fiery locks.

Eris stopped before you, smiling as he took you in, a bit of shock mixed in with the delight. Too caught up in your wandering eyes, you completely forget to even pretend to courtesy until it’s too late and you fumble a short bow. His face lit up with amusement, and you hoped he'd ignore it. Your prayers seemed to be answered until he leaned in and asked, “see something you like?”

The question sent chills down your back, your spine straightening. Your mouth became too dry to respond, and even if you could, you couldn’t think of anything to say. This thing with Eris, however mutual it may be, had alway been fleeting - small conversations, loose promises. No matter how your heart pulled to him, you still knew so little about him.

Kallias cleared his throat from behind you, his focus completely on Eris. The males only nodded to each other, not even attempting small talk. Kallias had been on edge ever since the first letter arrived - you heard him pacing at night, sure that the Autumn male was planning something. But those concerns hardly made it to your ears, your brother staying tight lipped about his reservations.

You didn’t think there was any validity to Kallias’s concerns for even a moment, especially not as he stood before you, a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes.

“I didn’t think you would allow this. I expected to be thrown out of Winter.” His voice was soft, the usual sneer or jestful tone gone, leaving room for something more vulnerable.

“Do you take me for a liar, High Lord? Not a good look for a new bride.” The quip sent him slightly off balance, surprise or pleasure at the change in your attitude.

“My apologies.” He bowed low at the waist causing you to go completely still. As High Lord, he didn’t have to bow to anyone. The other High Lords were his equals, but they didn’t deserve this level of respect.

“I’m just kind enough to forgive you, Eris.” He straightened at the sound of his name, the slight smirk enough to let you know how much he enjoyed it.

You spent the afternoon showing him the palace and the grounds, noting the amusement on his face at the ice gardens. You showed him the deep blues of the palace, listening as he compared them to his own home, the Forest House.

“I have arranged for some private dining for us. Kallias wanted some grand banquet in your honor, but I shot that down.”

“Wanted to get me alone?”

“Oh, we won’t be alone.” He waited for you to go on, still keeping stride next to you. “There are eyes everywhere in Winter. Why do you think we don’t have a chaperone?”

Eris turned in a circle, moving around the landscape, searching for anybody. There wasn’t another living thing for miles in the vast wintery expanse.

“Can you keep a secret?” He nodded, leaning his face closer to yours. You did the same, leaning up on your toes to meet him. You lowered your voice, soft as the snow fall. “It’s the animals.”

“The animals?” A mixture of shock and delight came across his face, a hint of disbelief as well. You nodded, not elaborating further. As far as you could tell, the animals in Winter were vastly different from the animals of other courts. They were larger, better at hiding, and were connected to Kallias somehow. You had tried for years to get him to explain it - why arctic foxes lingered at the palace doors, hares burrowed beneath every window. He always stayed tight-lipped about it, but he always knew things he shouldn’t. He was always the first to know your business, even if you never told him.

“I don’t really get it, but they like my brother.”

Eris followed as you led him to the west side of the palace. Light snow fell, crunching beneath your feet as you made your way down the path to the stables. You finally reached the surprise the servants had set up - a massive sleigh fronted by a team of large reindeer, stocked with blankets and food.

“What is this?”

“Our chariot.”

Eris looked over the sled, the reindeer all standing at attention, dark fur accented with lush garlands.

“Couldn’t we just winnow?”

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?”

He huffed, his breath visible in the air. He followed you into the sleigh, his body pressing close to yours. You let out a low whistle, the reindeer taking off quickly. Eris fell back into the seat, unprepared for the quick takeoff. Your hand covered your mouth, trying to hide the laugh that escaped, but you knew he heard it from the way he looked over at you.

His magic made a warm bubble around the two of you, blocking out the wind as the reindeer picked up a good pace. The sleigh glided across the snow, making fresh tracks as it moved. Eris looked around, trying to find any hint as to where the two of you were heading off to.

“What are we waiting for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

He studied you then, really focusing on you. You did the same, studying how much he contrasted the wintry landscape passing behind. His blue coat helped him blend in somewhat, but he stood out too much from the ice and snow to ever be able to fully hide.

“Have you ever been to Winter?” Your voice was louder, trying to be heard over the wind. You’ve seen him in Winter three or four times, the Vanserras never lingering long, only here to discuss things related to the border. Your father despised having them around, always tense in the days leading up to their arrival. But you wanted to hear it from him, wanted to know what your home was like to an outsider.

“Officially or unofficially?”

“Both.”

He leaned back on the seat, stretching out his long legs in the sleigh, his body still touching yours but not encroaching on your space.

“Officially, a handful of times. Unofficially, a few dozen times. I’ve snooped around the border a time or two.”

“To see the sights? Or do something a bit more?”

He gave a sharp look, some debate happening behind his eyes on how much to tell.

“I’d be lying if I said the land on the border between our courts was anything less than spectacular.”

You had never been so far north as the seasonal courts, but the lands connecting Summer, Winter, and Autumn were quite the sight. A blend of all three courts, a beautiful lake laid in the middle of the tricourt border. The wind blew falling leaves and soft snow across the water, but somehow the air was the perfect temperature to go swimming. It was a beautiful spot, popular with travelers.

“My excursions were less than savory.” His face was grim now, hard set with bad memories. Your breath hitched at how quickly the conversation had turned. It’s not too surprising to know Eris has snuck across the border - you have snuck off into Summer a time or two, emboldened by youth and recklessness.

But a few years ago, someone had done something so heinous the memory still made you gag.

“Have you ever harmed one of Winter’s citizens?” It still wasn’t known who killed those children, their deaths still a heavy tragedy for your court. Their wailing parents could be heard across the court. Your brother had long suspected the High Lord of the Night Court of it, but he had no leads.

“No. Mostly a neutral meeting site for discussions.” He seemed less than forthcoming, not wanting to linger too long, but willing to answer any questions you had. You only had one last question, needing it answered before letting this subject die.

“Did you have any involvement with the children?” You didn’t have to specify, you knew he’d know what you were referring to.

“No. I would never.” Relief washed over you. He seemed open in a way you’ve never seen before. You wanted to see more of it, let him tell you who he is in his own words.

The sled started slowing down at your whistle, halting in the middle of a barren field. The dark sky stretched on for miles, filled with galaxies of stars too numerous to count and too small to quantify. You unfolded the blanket, draping it across both of your laps, before opening the picnic basket. You passed him a small mug, filling it with hot chocolate from an enchanted kettle.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.” You tried for a more hopeful tone, the lilt in your voice asking to move on from the tragedy. He thought it over seriously for a few moments, watching the steam from his mug dissipate before settling on something.

“I have twelve hounds, all named after ingredients in pumpkin pie or apple varieties.”

“You have hounds?” He nodded, allowing you to continue. “I’ve only seen hounds from afar around here. In Winter, they work either with hunting or guardians. I’ve heard in Day it’s popular to keep them as pets. Are yours more pet or worker?”

“Anyone else, I’d say they’re workers. But in the interest of honesty, they are more pet.”

The mug of hot chocolate in your hands was the only thing keeping you from squealing in delight.

“Do you spoil them?”

“No.” You eyed him skeptically, not accepting his answer. “Okay, fine. I spoil them. But I make them work for it.”

“That’s so sweet. I’m sure they all love you.”

He didn’t respond, but you were sure it was the truth. You couldn’t imagine any being not falling in love with him, especially after spending years with him.

You slowly leaned into him, trying to soak up all his warmth. He turned, his face only inches from yours. His nose was a hair away from bumping into yours. Amber eyes flicked down to your lips and back up, but he stayed where he was.

You pushed back from him, catching the glimpse of color from behind his head, telling him to look up.

The sky above you, previously pitch black, slowly allowed streaks of green and light blue to ribbon across its landscape. The sky was a living painting, bright hues stretching across the blank canvas. The movements seemed random, smooth strokes looking for a place to rest. Every stroke looked intentional, every color carefully picked to complement the ones around it.

The hundreds of times you had seen it before didn’t matter - each time was brand new, never looking the same as the last. Eris was quiet beside you, the silence stretching up to the sky in appreciation of its beauty.

For a long time, neither of you say anything, but Eris’s hand slowly moved closer - first resting next to yours, each finger slowly and gently making contact, until he was holding your hand in his, gazing at this new beauty to bask in.

You smiled to the sky, thankful for whatever reason it was here. It would be the first thing the two of you would share, your shared focus on the same thing. The whole ride home would be devoted to talking about it, sharing feelings and observations, but now the two of you stared, necks craning at something that had stretched across Winter for as long as fae had existed.

On Eris’s second day in Winter, the weather was just right for an activity you were determined to see Eris try before accepting any proposals. You bundled yourself up, donning several layers beneath a coat before you bounced down the hallway. His room was several doors down from yours at Kallias’s input no doubt, but it gave you an extra moment to smooth out any wrinkles in your coat.

Deep blue skies filled the windows you passed, the day outside exceedingly bright. It was springtime in Winter, one of the warmer days that brought fae outdoors in droves, but your intended destination would be quite cold.

Your knock on his door was quick, three taps before his face greeted you.

“You’re quite chipper this morning,” he greeted.

You beamed, excitement for the day coursing through you. “It’s a beautiful day, of course I’m chipper.”

You looked down from his eyes to find his chest bare, no shirt to cover the pale skin littered with freckles. A set of two moles beneath his left clavicle caught your eye, before your gaze stuck on the red hair beneath his navel, leading into his trousers.

“I can meet you for breakfast downstairs if you wish to eat.”

Your eyes snapped back to his, a hint of arrogance lacing his words at having caught your ogling. He spared you from any other jabs at your expense, at least.

“No need, we’ll be getting breakfast out in town.”

A surprised look crossed his face before he quickly changed it for one of intrigue.

“Spare a moment so I can change.”

He came out exactly a moment later, not letting you wait too long. He stepped out in brown trousers, brown riding boots, a loose white shirt, and a beautifully decadent emerald green vest with gold detailing. He looked so autumnal, almost like a crisp apple you were dying to bite into.

Your lips puckered. “You’re going to need more clothes.”

“Oh? You seemed quite happy with the lack of layers I was wearing earlier.”

You scoffed, trying to cover the heat that was spreading up your face. “I am a lady, High Lord. Of course I am happy to see a lack of layers in my attractive guests.”

He laughed through his nose, an almost pleased snort at your unabashed comment.

“Any hints as to the day’s plans?”

“None until you get dressed.” He grumbled something as he turned back, leaving the door open before rifling through his trunks again.

“You do know I can warm myself quite easily with my magic.” He found a larger coat, probably the thickest one he owned, but it looked thin in comparison to the large, feather coats of Winter’s citizens. You followed him, standing in his doorway as he spoke to you.

“That’s cheating, though. Besides, your magic could be a hazard.” He stopped buttoning his jacket, fingers pausing mid movement.

“I thought I wasn’t getting any hints until I was better dressed.”

“You are better dressed.”

“I would never leave with my buttons undone. I’m not an animal.”

You stepped aside, walking down the hallway and away from him. His door shut softly behind him and he quickly caught up to you, matching your stride through the palace. No matter how much he asked, you didn’t let up, leading him out of the palace and onto the cool paths that navigated around the property.

You thought he would give up - it would only be a ten minute walk, after all. But he was unwavering, determined to get the answer from you, so much so he wasn’t paying attention to the upcoming view.

“We’re going ice skating!” You declared proudly, pointing ahead at the frozen lake coming into view. Figures glided across the frozen surface, laughing loud enough to be heard from far away.

“Why are we going ice skating, my ice princess?”

The nickname caught you off guard, the title not sounding as stilted as it usually did. You tried to keep your composure, a difficult task as your tongue suddenly became very thick in your mouth. “It’s tradition.”

“Is it now? Or do you just want to admire me gliding across the ice in those tight uniforms your skaters wear?”

A sigh escaped you, careful not to let him hear your laugh.

“It’s tradition in Winter for betrothed couples to skate together.”

“We’re a betrothed couple now?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You still hadn’t technically given him an answer nor did you plan to until the end of the trip. Everything was going so well, you had to ensure you liked being in his company before agreeing.

“We’re something.”

“I suppose ‘something’ is the most serious relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“Haven’t you been engaged to the Morrigan?”

“I was a child. I had met her all of a handful of times before it ended.”

“So us ice skating is the most serious romantic endeavor you’ve ever been involved with?”

“It would appear so.”

“If I may be so bold, that is quite sad.” A pair of ice skates appeared in your hands, the size determined by some servants who snuck into his chambers last night and measured his shoes. You held them out to him before gesturing for him to sit on a nearby bench to put them on.

“What’s sad is going to be seeing me out on the ice and that will be the end of my most serious romantic endeavor.”

You reached out, gently pinching his cheek between your thumb and forefinger.

“I wouldn’t end things with how pitiful you look on the ice. I find pathetic males endearing on occasion.”

“I will note to never allow you near Lucien again.”

Your own skates appeared in your hand as you sat next to Eris. The two of you laced boots in tandem, listening as a few kids played a game of hockey on one end of the lake.

“You’ll probably be a little wobbly getting out there,” you warned, standing up to help him. You held your hands out, which he gladly took, helping him find his balance on the mat.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, just wait.”

You helped him waddle to the entrance, his body instinctively reaching for the short walls that had been erected around the lake. Eris moved onto the ice, attempting to keep the blades beneath his feet connected to the ice. It was much slippier than he anticipated, his feet moving at an odd angle before he quickly moved back to grip the wall once more. His eyes met yours, your face barely able to contain your grin. Your eyes shone with delight, your tone laced with wicked amusement as you held out your hands.

“Forgive me, High Lord. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a skating prodigy.”

His jaw tightened at the jab, annoyance simmering beneath his skin. Everyone else on the ice made it look easy, skating past the High Lord in pairs. One male even did a jump right in front of him.

If there was one thing that would never change about Eris, it was that he was a sore loser if he wasn’t automatically good at something.

A skater passed by, ice shavings hitting Eris in the chest. It was enough to get him to remove himself from the wall, to move out toward your outstretched hands. He looked like a newborn foal, standing for the first time on fresh legs. You suppressed a giggle, reaching out for him.

He made it halfway between you and the wall when one of the kids from the other side of the lake hit the hockey puck too hard, the black circle skidding fast directly at Eris’s feet. It hit the blade of his left skate, sending him falling forward.

A loud, boisterous laugh fell from your lips. Your head tilted back, the sun nearly blinding you, but you couldn’t contain the joy you felt in this moment.

A beautiful male fell into your arms, looking more like a fresh fawn than the high lord he was.

He clutched at you, his feet giving out beneath him as he tried to find his balance. The blades slashed the ice, cutting and churning up slush until eventually he slowed down, his feet able to stay in place long enough for him to straighten up.

Eris still clung to you, but his face came close to your ear, whispering so only you could hear.

“I look ridiculous.”

“Yes, you do.”

“And you’re enjoying it.”

“Very much so.” A meteor couldn’t wipe the smug look off your face at his struggles. You pried his hands from your shoulders, holding them tight in your hands as you slowly started skating backwards. The shock on his face had you biting back another laugh, but you held him tight, gliding backwards without a concern in the world.

He slowly began figuring out how to move his feet, making short glides. Each sweep of his legs brought more confidence, but his hands still remained tight in yours.

Eris didn’t have many courtly duties to take up his time while in Winter. He had spent most of the last week preparing for this, but he only had to put up with daily updates and light correspondence taking no less than an hour a day.

You took him everywhere you thought of: nearby villages, sightseeing, trying restaurants. He was more receptive to Winter cuisine than you had anticipated, but it shouldn’t be too shocking that there was some overlap between your courtly palettes.

Today the snow came down in massive heaps, a sheet of white covering the windows, making it impossible to see past a few feet.

“Please don’t tell me we’re going out to do something like see how much snow we can catch.”

You smiled, turning from the window to find Eris looking down at you. You stood, practically bouncing the balls of your feet at the plan for today.

“I’d never do that to you and your delicate constitution.” A huff escaped his lips at your taunt, but no retort came back.

“We’re going to bake and assemble a gingerbread house.”

It was too early for yule, the ingredients necessary for the traditional dishes out of season. But you craved to showcase Winter in all its splendor.

“A gingerbread house? To live in?”

“Not for us to live in. For the gingerbread fae to live in.”

He only stared blankly, the concept clearly a new one to the High Lord.

“Do you not celebrate Yule in Autumn?”

“We burn bushes and the like, but we don’t make gingerbread.” He said it with a grimace, like the cookie was offensive.

“Well, you can help me build it and decorate it.”

A few hours later, when the cookies were taken from the oven, the two of you took a break, venturing around the palace grounds, talking about everything and nothing. At some point you were sure the cookies had cooled enough to work with, but there had been a break in the snow and you weren’t quite ready to return yet. Instead you had detoured into the nearby village, taking Eris to get hot chocolate.

“I promise, I’ve tried so much hot chocolate over the years, but this is the best.”

“Very convenient that they live so close by.” You smiled over the mug, taking your first sip, the sweet rich flavor one you couldn’t get enough of.

“I may have persuaded him to move his shop here.”

Eris held his drink, waiting for it to cool more.

“Here I thought I was the scandalous one of us.”

“It all worked out! He met his wife here and they’ve been very happy for a long time. And they have me to thank for it.” Pride was etched into every inch of your smile, to see happy citizens and watch things work out for them was a joy.

“Winter’s own little matchmaker.”

After enough time (and Eris admitting it was the best hot chocolate Prythian had to offer), the two of you had wandered back to the palace, taking your sheets of cookies into the dining room. Servants had already arranged all your decorating needs neatly onto the table: icing, gumdrops, sugar. Anything sweet your heart could desire was on the table.

“The world’s supply of sugar was dropped off in our absence.”

It didn’t take long before he was sucked into the work, determined to make a grand gingerbread house fit for a High Lord. You watched as he carefully iced one of the walls, applying windows and doors to it. His lines were perfect, a steely look of determination on his face.

This was what this trip was about. Seeing Eris for who he was at all times: relaxed, enthralled, annoyed. After a moment of watching him, you turned back to your own house, hoping a distraction would quell the butterflies roaring in your stomach. You picked up one of the tiny ginger males, picking out the perfect red icing to make his hair with.

Before long, Eris’s two weeks in Winter were coming to an end. It felt surreal to watch him winnow away, feeling juvenile over the longing you felt in his absence.

Eris would head to Autumn a day before you, so the two of you hadn’t lingered long on saying goodbye. It had taken longer than expected for him to depart, as if the both of you were unwilling to give the other up for any amount of time. The pull you had felt toward him all these years, the seemingly insurmountable obstacles keeping the two of you apart, and yet a whole day felt impossible.

Life had continued on in your whirlwind romance, but it felt different now. Two weeks away and it felt like being in someone else’s clothes, stepping into someone else’s life.

The silence felt louder, your room colder. The halls you grew up in, the room you’d known your entire life - they felt so empty now, so lifeless without a redhead blazing fires.

The next day Kallias winnowed the two of you to Autumn, somewhere about a mile from the perimeter of the Forest House. He spent the twenty minute walk probing you nonstop about if you were truly happy to do this.

“It would mean living here year round.” His arms spread out, sweeping across the landscape. It was so different from your home in the Winter Court, trees full of leaves that are about to shed, woodland creatures skittering all around, watching the two of you.

The air was always so still in Winter, but here it ebbed and flowed, carrying the scent of bonfires and apples wherever it went.

“I don’t think that would be so bad.” You failed to mention how excited you’d be to live with a certain male, not wanting to endure Kallias’s teasing or gagging noises from him.

Your brother escorted you through the woods, your arm tucked into his as you passed through the wards placed around the Forest House. The large, dark estate was tucked away in the woods, trees as tall as the sky surrounding it. The sun was hitting it just right, letting it shine in all its glory, as if even the weather was happy with the change in Autumn.

A servant had found the two of you - some guard, you assumed from the weapon at his side. He bowed quickly before the two of you, quickly turning on his heel for you to follow. You didn’t have to follow long, Eris already waiting in the front hallway for the two of you.

It was hard to decide what to look at - the male or the gorgeous interior of the home. You were set to be here for two weeks, plenty of time to ogle the decor and architecture, so you opted to keep your eyes on Eris. He looked different in Autumn, more at ease, but also brighter somehow, as if every room and background bent toward him, trying to complement his skin.

He kept his eyes on you the same way, likely figuring out how much you contrasted against the earthly shades of the court. You didn’t care, certain he would spin it in a more favorable light than you would. He eventually took his eyes off of you, turning towards your brother, reaching out a hand. Their hands met, slight steam coming off from their touch before your brother chuckled. It wasn’t until you peeled your eyes from Eris to find one of his brothers, Lucien, standing behind him

“Eris,” Kallias’s voice took on a more stern tone, one that had a groan coming from the back of your throat. Kallias’s blue eyes met yours, a silent conversation taking place while he was still shaking Eris’s hand. After a minute of glaring back and forth, he turned back toward Eris, patting his hand before retracting it.

“Eris.” It said all that Kallias wanted to. The threat hidden in the one word, the tight grip he had on Eris’s hand. Eris only nodded, a tight lipped smile at either Kallias’s rigid position or the tight grip he had on him. Kallias examined him for a moment before letting go, his arm moving to wrap you into a hug.

“Last chance,” he said quietly into your ear. You softly shook your head no as you leaned into his touch, the cool air enveloping you in such a familiar way. He patted your back before letting go.

“I’ll see you in two weeks then.” This time he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear, accenting every word in a ‘I’m the High Lord’ way. You chuckled softly as he turned, nodding at both Vanserras before walking out of the house.

The three of you stood in silence for only a moment, no one quite sure how to continue on after Kallias’s departure. Lucien’s eyes gleamed with excitement, a smile full of mischief and trouble sent your way.

“Would you like to walk around the estate?”

It was an interesting sight to behold - two fae, each over several centuries old, strolling about Autumn with a much younger and louder chaperone following behind them.

“I have to say you do seem quite different since the last I saw of you in Autumn, High Lord.”

Lucien’s steps followed the two of you, his whistling an overt measure to ensure you both remembered his presence. When you had asked for traditional courtship, you hadn’t had Lucien in mind.

“Autumn is seeing a great change.”

“You may speak freely, if you wish. I understand double speak is common around here, but I am unfamiliar with it and find it tedious.”

“Autumn is doing quite well now that the blight that was my father has been taken care of.”

Lucien’s whistling stopped, an almost choking noise coming from his mouth. Eris shot a spark from his finger at his brother. Even though he couldn’t see it, he heard Lucien patting the fire out of his breeches and smiled. Your eyes caught Eris’s, unable to stop the enjoyment at seeing him so happy.

“How crass, High Lord. To speak of your departed father in such a way.”

Eris’s eyes nearly bulged from his head, an excuse sitting on the tip of his tongue until he caught a glint of amusement in your eye. He clicked his tongue, looking straight ahead toward the path.

“You sound like Lucien, my least favorite brother.”

A cough came from behind, but Eris didn’t turn to look at his brother before replying. “Chaperones are merely to ensure our innocence and chastity, not to butt into conversation.”

“Yes, we are quite innocent and chaste up here. No deflowering has occurred on your watch,” you added.

“I do love a good deflowering, but watching it happen to my brother is not what I wish to see.”

Steam practically shot out of Eris’s ears at Lucien’s quip, but your giggles broke him from his anger.

“A virgin High Lord. How noble of you, your grace. And you picked me to deflower you? I’m so honored.”

The High Lord of Autumn had half a mind to forego the frivolity of tradition. Two weeks of his brother following him around was sure to end in murder. He knew you were quite a fan of them, some romanticized notion of courting traditions in your mind he couldn’t quite bear to see squashed.

Your first night there had been enough for him to put up with meddling brothers for a lifetime. He had shown you around the Forest House per your request. He listened intently during the tour as you compared the Forest House to the Snowflake Palace, comparing your current home to what was hopefully set to be a future one. You were now comparing balconies, ones you had shown him on his tour, balconies carved in part from ice in the upper levels of the palace.

“I’m sure you could remodel here with your flames a bit.”

A chuckle made you smile, happy to amuse him over such silly imaginings.

“I don’t think they’d be structurally sound to stand on.”

“Hmm, that’s a shame. A flaming throne room would really make the place shine.”

The two of you moved through the house, wandering through centuries of history. Stories flowed from Eris’s mouth - items that were millennium old, passed down through the Vanserra line carefully. Things the high lord has grown so accustomed to seeing every day he had forgotten to enjoy the intricate details of them.

At some point on the tour, Lucien had stepped away, having to attend to some matter on his own.

“I could show you where your chambers would be if you moved here.”

You stopped, grabbing Eris by the elbow to get his attention. You held his arm as you spoke, the fabric of his jacket soft in your hand.

“Eris, if I am to wed, I would rather spend my nights with my husband. It’s no fun sleeping alone.”

He swallowed harshly, needing a moment before he responded. “Noted.”

“Would that be a problem?”

“Not at all.”

“Then can you show me your chambers?” Eris swore under his breath, the direct question straining his pants.

“Lucien steps away for an hour and you’re already trying to deflower me.”

“Maybe the chaperone was for me, Eris.”

Eris was still staying in his old chambers, wanting Beron’s old chambers completely renovated before he moved into them. His room was somewhere in the west wing, the windows facing a large field that had massive stables at the end of the horizon. You walked to the window, ignoring inspecting the rest of the furniture in favor of the lush green pasture.

“Horses?”

“Hounds,” he corrected, his voice dripping with pride. It jogged your memory - the brief conversation you had earlier about his pack of hounds.

“Do they sleep in the bed with you?”

The silence stretched on for a moment before he asked, “how important is the answer to that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, squinting your eyes as you looked at the field, trying to make out any dog-like shapes. “I’m often incredibly cold during the night and a warm, furry friend would be nice.”

“It’d be a shame then to not tell you that they all end up here during the night.”

You whipped your head to him, incredulity coating your words. “How many are there?”

“A dozen or so.”

A laugh escaped from you. Eris Vanserra, a male supposedly cut from Beron’s cloth who had half of Prythian annoyed at him and the other infuriated with him, had a pack of hounds to keep him company at night?

“This is delightful.” Only a few hours into the trip and you had already learned so much about Eris.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You leaned against the wall, turning your body toward him. It didn’t go unnoticed when he stepped slightly closer, following to not let any more distance linger between you two. “The other courts think you’re the Mother’s curse upon faekind. If only they knew you liked snuggling.”

“Even cursed ones have hobbies when they’re not ransacking villages or plaguing the common fae.”

The day was supposed to end with a dinner in your honor, celebrating relations between Winter and Autumn, and a way for you to meet more people in the Forest House. Instead you had asked if you could share dinner in his chambers, citing the travels of the day making you weary.

An excuse Eris saw through, but elected not to say anything. He’d be damned to give up this much alone time with you, certain Lucien would make himself known at any moment.

The two of you ate and drank in Eris’s sitting room, not having ventured into his bedchambers. This trip was about you and he’d follow your lead, no matter how straining it became.

“We’ve been on our own for several hours now. Do you think our chaperone’s gone?”

“With any luck he’s fallen into an uncapped well or perhaps gotten lost at sea.”

“I don’t think we’re that lucky, Eris.”

He leaned back in his seat, the wood creaking as he stretched out his long legs.

“It’s night time. He’s likely off writing a letter, waxing poetry about how much he’s missing his mate.”

“You’re not concerned about any interruptions, then?”

“At this point Lucien should be old enough to know better. What he sees is on him.”

The words had barely left his mouth before you glanced down at his trousers, noting the clear outline of his bulge. You looked back up to find his searing gaze on you, amber eyes full of molten want, the air around the two of you hot enough to have sweat prickling at your neck. You patted his shoulder, trying to soothe the rejection before it came.

“Still, he only has the one eye. Wouldn’t want to completely blind him.” You wanted to - your legs practically shook with need. Something held you back from allowing him in fully, to take in every aspect of this potential relationship.

Eris had escorted you back to your room, unperturbed by the earlier rejection. He only waited as you stood across from him, not quite ready to open your door and bid him goodnight. The longer you stood here, his body heat practically inviting you closer, the more likely you were to cave into your carnal wants.

His own restraint did little to quell the ache between your legs. In fact, it made it worse. He was being respectful, never pushing or upset at the space you needed.

“I should go to bed.”

A half attempt at moving, to get your brain in gear, to retire for the evening, but as long as his eyes were on you, it was hard to pull away from his orbit.

If Eris had it his way, this whole visit would have been structured so differently. Every meal just the two of you, spending only a few hours apart for some necessary meetings he had.

But you had asked for traditional courting.

So he put up with more chaperoned walks through the garden, meals spent with others, hardly getting a moment alone with you for weeks until you slipped into his sitting room each night, recounting the time spent apart. You saw more of Lucien than you did him, his brother neglecting almost all of his duties in favor of entertaining at all hours of the day.

Eris was on the brink of wringing Lucien’s neck. Watching his eyes pop from his head would amuse him, wondering if the mechanical one would pop out too or if it would stay in its socket forever.

Most of Autumn’s rituals around love and commitment were saved for the day of the wedding or the ceremony itself. Fire night was a big event, but that was six months out and Eris couldn’t wait that long. He had been racking his brain for ages, trying to figure out something to showcase Autumn.

The proposal weighed heavy on your mind over the days you spent with him. While you were having a great time, Kallias never made you feel like you had to marry for political advantage. He actually seemed to prefer you to marry outside of it. Your brother desperately wanted you to marry any of the athletes of Winter, preferably from his favored teams.

You were having a great time being courted - finally being allowed to soak in Eris’s company was a delight. But you couldn’t quite say yes.

Eris had told you it would be an early morning and to dress in layers and to wear pants, but it was all he’d give you. You took his advice, layering well for the Autumn chill, lacing up your boots when a knock came at the door. Eris stood on the other side of the door, a tweed jacket unbuttoned, showing off a matching vest beneath it. Dark pants clung to his thighs, disappearing into the knee high boots hugging his calves. He said nothing, letting his gaze trail up the pants that hugged your thighs, a devilish smirk on his face that almost had you pulling him into your chambers.

“Ready?” He asked, extending an elbow toward you. You accepted it, letting him lead you on whatever adventure he wanted to show you.

“I thought I would show you one of my traditions.” You stayed silent, waiting for him to tell you more, but he didn’t say more, only looking forward as he walked. He guided the two of you through the house, up to some side hallway that led to the pasture behind the house. Barks came from the door at the end, either excitement or aggression you couldn’t say.

“And what is this tradition?”

“Whenever my mother would successfully give birth, I would take my hounds out and catch dinner.” He paused, one of his hands resting on the doorknob before he turned to face you.

“Would this bother you?” He fully faced you, close enough that you could almost touch him. You reached out, your hand brushing his, letting his warmth wake you up. Standing in the hallway with him felt like standing in the sun after a long, cold day, his gaze enough to warm your bones.

You shook your head, hunting for game a familiar one in Winter.

“I’ve never hunted with animals before.” The only movement was an eyebrow before his fingers held your hand. “Kallias is really into trapping.” Furs and meat were the two necessities to make it in Winter, most court citizens avid hunters.

He nodded, surprise evident on his face, but he said nothing. He squeezed your hand gently, looking deep into your eyes, fondness clear in his gaze. He looked on the verge of saying something, but only turned the knob, letting the early morning haze in, not quite clearing the lovesick haze that had settled in your stomach.

All the barking stopped immediately once Eris opened the door, the sound of dozens of paws hitting the ground thunderous in your ears. They quickly mobbed the pair of you, standing politely, tails wagging furiously. Several colors of fur tried to make their way to you, a dozen noses desperately trying to reach you. You giggled, reaching a hand out to pet one of them. You’d get to nuzzle one of their heads before another hound pushed it out of the way, trying to get your affection.

Eris gave a short, high-pitched whistle, sending the party into a frozen state, each one on high alert as they waited for his next order. It was almost terrifying how well they listened to his command, moving in tandem as if from one mind.

They all focused on him, a few with tilted heads. He let out a series of whistles, the meaning lost to you, but they understood. They moved as a group, their movements wispy and light, practically floating on air as they moved through the pasture, keeping a pace you couldn’t even dream of reaching.

“How do we find them?” Eris began trudging off after them, following the line in the morning dew they had made. From the front of the house, when you had arrived only a few days ago, you couldn’t have guessed at this large field hidden among the trees, this quiet sanctuary beyond a house containing Prythian’s greatest secrets.

“We follow as best we can. They’ll let us know when they find something.” A large crossbow was hung across his shoulder, not quite sure how you had missed it beforehand. It covered the muscles of his back, showing off his broad shoulders.

“What sort of expectations are there for the Lady of Autumn?” You had briefly met the previous one on this trip, Eris’s mother graciously inviting you for afternoon tea. You spoke for an hour with her, charmed by her while also being moderately terrified of her.

A woman married to Beron for centuries certainly had some skeletons in her own closet. You hadn’t thought to ask about her duties as Lady of the court, but rather mostly about Eris.

“There are a few, first and foremost being at court events.” Something you had expected - it would be silly to have a title and never be seen by the public. “My mother has her own passions and hobbies that take up her time, I don’t expect anyone,” he sent you a pointed look, “to do exactly as she does. Be present, be someone Autumn recognizes. Represent Autumn and see dignitaries from other courts. Other than that, it’s how much or how little sway she wishes to have.”

“Would I have to wear all green and red?” He laughed, the sound disturbing some roosting birds nearby, their wings taking flight.

“You may wear whatever color you like.”

“How often is Lucien around?”

“Not very. He comes usually for a day at a time, if that. He’s only here so frequently because he jumped at the chance to be a thorn in my side.”

Barks came from up ahead, the whole pack in an uproar, clearly catching the scent of something.

Eris grabbed your hand, the two of you running to catch whatever it was they found. You felt giddy at it all - his hand around yours, running through the trees. You felt so much younger and freer as the wind blew through your hair.

Could this be life with Eris?

The dogs had been unsuccessful. Eris did not want to admit it, but you were certain it had to do with how many questions you asked him, the chatter enough to scare off any nearby game, no matter the lead the dogs had on you.

The two of you spent the entire day outside, trying to find anything worthwhile, only calling it a day as the sun began to set. You had trudged back to the Forest House, unsure what you wanted more: a good meal or a long hot shower. Stepping inside, the house smelled divine - rich, fragrant foods that had your mouth watering.

The cooks must have heard your dilemma and answered for you. The two of you sat and ate, not much to say, too exhausted and gross to have anything of note to vocalize.

The silence gave you plenty of time to think. Eris had shown you a part of himself today, showing one of his favorite pastimes, it was only fair you did the same.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” It was the first thing you had said since coming inside, waiting until Eris was walking you to your chambers to ask it. The question clearly caught him off guard, his head lightly shaking in surprise.

“Of course.”

A rhythmic ceremony of sorts played out as the two of you prepared for bed. Taking turns bathing and changing into bed attire, nestling into bed, it all felt so comfortable and relaxing. The room smelled like him, coated in a smoky scent so thick it nearly made you dizzy.

As you lifted the covers laying next to Eris, two of the hounds jumped onto the bed, curling at his feet. You laughed, patting the bed next to you for one of them to come closer, but it only invited one of the ones on the floor to jump up.

Her brown fur was soft as it landed next to you, your hand petting her automatically. You curled around her body, an almost crescent moon shape to both of you. You felt the bed shift before Eris had done the same to you: contorting his body around yours, pulling your back flush to his chest.

The room smelled of Eris, but it also smelled like his hounds in the best way. The one in your arms, Cinnamon, nestled in for the night, and the contentment at being cocooned between their two bodies quickly lulled you to sleep.

A few hounds had made their way into the bed through the night, rotating as if in shifts to ensure they all got a turn. One or two were posted at each entrance, guarding both the bathroom and the door to his sitting room. One sat beneath a window, stationed there most of the night, her eyes on you whenever you woke up in the night.

Eris woke not long after you did, his arms circling tighter around you as he breathed you in.

“Does she sleep at all?” You asked, breaking the stillness of the morning. Eris only groaned, burying his face into your hair. His fingers dug into your hips, the millimeter of space between the two of you too offensive. He grumbled something incomprehensible into your hair, the words unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“Who?” You nodded toward the dog beneath the window, her gaze already on the two of you. She had a dark auburn coat, her long hair perfect to disappear amongst fallen leaves.

“That’s Lady. Not a cuddler.”

“Not even with you?”

“She cuddles in her own way. Sits near me and I have to stay very still.”

The image was incredibly endearing - the High Lord of Autumn letting his dog come to him in her own way, accommodating her as best he could. It had your heart practically bursting in your chest. You didn’t ask anymore questions, letting the room grow quiet with laziness.

Nobody moved for a long while, even the hounds staying still as they sprawled across the floor. Eventually a stomach growled - yours or Eris’s, you couldn’t tell. One of the hounds, Clove, you think, came over and nudged his back, her long snout attempting to get him out of bed.

It took longer than the dog had wanted, reluctance in every movement from both of you, but eventually the two of you left the warmth of the bed and took a walk in the woods, dozens of paws following you around.

Your remaining days in the court went by in a blur of red hair, warm skin, and explorations of the house and the forest surrounding it. You spent your nights tucked in Eris’s arms, the sweet domesticity of sharing a bed enough for both of you.

Each day brought a new confidence, that this was where you were meant to be, but every day something would hold you back, some new question keeping you from saying yes.

Before long, your shared two weeks in Autumn were up, your last night spent in Eris’s chambers, tangled in his arms and legs. He had held you tight all night, not wanting to let you go even as he slept.

A few hours before you were set to leave, luck had been on your side. One of the servants had let slip that Lucien had set off early that morning, some business in the Night Court requiring his immediate attention.

The sun was rising through the trees, chasing away the darkness of the night, bringing with it new life. The sun, for all its glory, hadn’t warmed up the ground yet, unable to fight the cool morning air yet. The cold in Autumn was different from Winter. It was familiar, a few details exchanged. The cold in Winter was dry and bone deep. The Autumn chill clung to you, stuck like a second skin.

Eris walked beside you, a few of his hounds trotting around the pair of you. The rest of them were out in the woods, chasing each other, investigating every scent trail they could find. The ones left behind were a guard of sort, likely expected to raise an alarm should anything happen.

The air was heavy with humidity and uncertainty, neither of you ready for what the afternoon would bring. Once you left, he’d have a busy day, ironing out the details of all the things he had pushed aside the past few weeks.

You weren’t sure when you would be back, if you would be back. Your mind was telling you stay guarded, to not give in. But you remembered Lady’s bright eyes, how she watched Eris everywhere he went, how he made time out of his day to spend a few moments alone with her, letting her come to him.

But now he walked beside you, silent and sure, unwavering as he walked over roots and bramble, a dog weaving between his long legs on occasion.

You bent over, crouching low to the ground and picking up a fallen stick. The leaves on it were still vibrant, some perfect color between orange and red. You held it up to the light before holding it close to Eris’s head, comparing it to his long, bright locks.

“They’re the same color as your hair.”

He moved one of his hands through the air, vaguely gesturing all around. The movement caught someone’s attention, a ball of red fur sitting in anticipation for the stick to be thrown their way.

“Most of them look like my hair.”

“Well that’s not fun.”

“I’m the High Lord of Autumn. It’s not far-fetched to think my lands resemble me.”

You only hummed, marching onwards, more determined with each step. After a moment of pretending to ignore the dog, you threw the stick off to the left when you figured they would least suspect it. The two of you continued in silence, the crunching of your boots crackling through the woods as four legs darted after the stick.

After a moment, you stepped off the path, looking for what had caught your eye. Quickly plucking the flower from its stalk, you hurry back to the bewildered male you left behind. You presented the flower to him before holding it next to his face, pointed so you could see the flower. The bright orange flower flared to life next to him, the perfect companion to the hundreds of freckles dancing across his cheeks.

The flower practically glowed next to him, its petals slightly bending in his direction. You’re not sure which came first: the magic or the life of the land.

“It matches your eyes.”

“My eyes are not orange.” You pulled the flower back, rolling your eyes as you did so.

“Not the petals, the eye of the flower. The center.” You pointed to make it clearer for him, the deep amber middle a perfect match for his eyes. He watched you carefully before looking down at the flower, the orange reflecting in his eyes.

He smiled, his mouth curved in a gorgeous upward tilt. He looked made of the woods, the forest around him bending to be seen by him or to catch a fraction of his warmth.

The crinkles in the corners of his eyes were enough proof you would go to great lengths to see them more permanently.

“So, to whom do I owe the pleasure of your undivided company all morning? I haven’t seen Lucien running about today.”

Eris only looked ahead, picking up a fallen stick and tossing it as far as he could, two of the hounds circling you chasing off after it.

“It seems he found a new toy to play with.”

“Must be some toy to pull him away from any opportunity to bother you.”

“I’m quite skilled at bargaining when there’s something I desire.”

“It wasn’t just luck that sent Lucien off this morning, was it?”

He merely shrugged, his hands clasped behind his back, the air of nonchalance he was attempting not quite landing right.

“I’m sure my brother’s told you I’m a selfish creature.”

A coy smile made its way across your face.

“Perhaps.”

“He’s not wrong.” The look he gave you felt all consuming. Amber eyes peering through every defense, every blockade of yours. He looked down at you, more resembling his hounds on the hunt for their toys than a male. The look pierced through every defense you had, nearly crumbling at the sight of it.

You had one last meal planned with Eris, one last time to speak over everything. He didn’t ask - staying silent, waiting for you to come to him.

There was one last question you couldn’t bring yourself to ask yet. It was the one thing keeping you from saying yes. Your last inhibition. It could all end depending upon his response.

“Eris, how are you different from your father?” He had only touched on the subject of Beron your first day here. It had been in an unfavorable manner, but you couldn’t tie yourself to someone without knowing the full truth.

“I haven’t burnt anyone alive so far.”

Your fork fell to your plate, so surprised at Eris’s words all of your senses stopped working. You knew Beron was a cruel man, but the extent of the harm he was producing in his court was unknown.

“That’s diabolical.”

Eris put his fork down softly, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“Forgive me, it’s a question I am asked over and over again, even by myself. It’s a bit frustrating.”

His hand reached across the table, holding yours softly. His eyes were molten amber as they looked at you, honesty pouring out of them.

“I fear becoming like my father. I fear it’s inevitable. That is why I wish to keep people around me who will keep me in check. Lucien does a decent job, but he’s an emissary. He’s not always around. My mother wishes to spend her time between Day and Autumn.

“I need a life partner. Someone that will keep me from my worst tendencies. Someone that will keep me from becoming him. Someone that I like spending time with.”

“And I’m all of those things?” Your voice was soft, a murmur amidst the candlelight.

“And more.”

“Well, for the sake of honesty, maybe you should continue on with that list.”

His smile made your heart beat wildly, erratic beats you couldn’t calm no matter how hard you tried. The incandescent glow of the candlelight made him so striking it almost hurt to look at his beauty.

“You have always seen me. And I made a promise to you all those years ago. I know you aren’t seeing anyone else, and I’m a lovestruck fool who can’t help but hope that that is because of me. That you return my feelings toward you.”

You leaned in, desperate to close the space between you.

“And what are your feelings toward me?”

“Ones of yearning and love.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his eyes pleading with you to return his affections.

“Eris Vanserra, the secret romantic.”

“Only for you.”

You reached a hand out, caressing his cheek. You watched him swallow hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with movement. Your gaze kept flickering between his eyes and his lips, debating where to pay attention to.

All along, every decision was yours. You took the lead while he waited, letting you guide whatever this was. He did it with Lady, taking his time, putting her comfort over his wants.

“You were right. I was waiting for you.” You closed the gap between your faces, bringing your lips to his. He tasted sweet and warm, a bit of spice to it. His lips captured yours, melding perfectly to the shape of them. It felt perfect as his hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You almost fell out of the chair, breaking the kiss to squeal, but he caught you, pulling you into his lap. His lips reconnected with yours, more fervent this time. He had gotten a taste, and now he was desperate for more. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you flush to his body.

It felt right. This was the last thing you needed to say yes.

You pulled back from his lips just enough to speak.

“There’s one last thing I need to know before I can make up my mind.”

“Anything.” Looking into his eyes, you felt the truth to that one word. He would give you anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask.

“I’d never marry someone without spending the night with them.” Your low voice was dripping with innuendo. The smell of his arousal coated the air as you leaned in to kiss him once more. His hands moved down to your ass, gripping you tight against him. Too caught up in the moment, neither of you heard the door open, ana mused Lucien trying to look displeased.

“Well, well, well, High Lord. And you mocked me for needing a chaperone. I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re-“

Eris quickly pushed the door close with his magic, forcing Lucien from the room without leaving your lips.

He held you close to him, savoring the moment. His mouth curled into a smug expression, an arrogant look in his eye before he said, “I’m sure I was worth the wait.”

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#acotar fanfiction #acotar writing #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris x y/n #eris x reader #eris x you #eris fanfic #eris fic

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joonsytip · 4 months ago

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Left for Ruins || Seungcheol [Teaser]

Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Crime, Smut, Fluff, Office Worker Husband!Seungcheol, Investigative Journalist Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Being an investigative journalist, you would do anything to unravel the truth, even if it means getting married to the timid office worker Choi Seungcheol, who was in fact the best friend of your brother who went missing seven years ago.

Warnings: Mentions of all sorts of criminal activities, reader and Seungcheol are two people with contrasting personalities, exploitation, gaslighting, heavy themes involving syndicate etc.

Thanks to @diamonddaze01 for the amazing banner! ♡

Comment or send an ask if you wanna be tagged.

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

“I want you to marry me.”

Seungcheol is currently cornered, shying away from the proximity, unable to meet eyes even.

“W-Why do you want me to marry you?”, he manages to utter, body leaning back in reflex as you close in further.

All he gets from you is a very known cunning smile.

As you watch him like he's a prey, he pleads with you to give him some space.

“You're in your thirties, don't have a partner, got a stable job and a clean image. Don't you think we'd look good together?”, your hands take off his glasses, making him look into your eyes, “You are handsome and I've known you for as long as I can remember.”

Seungcheol finds it hard to maintain eye contact. Always soft spoken, he hesitates to ask you questions.

He needs time, he needs a push. You know it all and you know him all too well.

As expected, his hands reach yours to get back his glasses. He gently takes it and puts it back on. His eyes meet yours at his own will, for the first time that night.

“I’m practically blind without my glasses.”, he says softly, “Can I ask you some questions? Will you please answer them? And I have a lot to ask.”

You find it amusing, the way he awaits your response. If you deny, you're sure no questions will be asked. You're confident that you'd be able to coax him into marrying you with no such difficulties anyways.

You're known to be ruthless. You don't bat an eye before deceiving people, lies naturally flow out of your mouth.

When you give a nod, he asks you to take a seat, mainly for himself so you could back off and he could finally breathe.

“You've known me for years, Y/N. And I'm sure you're not asking me to marry you because you have feelings for me. Tell me the truth and I'll consider it.”

Your eyes glint dangerously but it's gone suddenly.

Your face falls, melancholia starts pouring into the atmosphere.

“I’ll be honest.”, you say, sounding sincere, “You were closest to my brother. It's been seven years since I saw him. I heard time heals but for me it's making things worse. I still can't believe that a good person like Daon would disappear overnight.”

Seungcheol takes the seat beside you, his heart aching in the memories of his best friend.

Your gaze drops at your lap, letting the sudden wave of tears stream down your face. It's a wound, unattended, always fresh.

With a croak in your voice you continue, “My brother trusted you the most and for me, I know that you've always tried to be a shelter, looking over as a guardian figure.”

Seungcheol’s demeanor is similar to yours, as he says, “When Daon disappeared, I just couldn't forgive myself. It always occurred to me that I should have searched more, did I give up too early? What if he's still waiting for me? I'll always live with this guilt.”

You both sit in silence.

“We could never repay you, what you did for us back then is something not even family members do.”, you feel Seungcheol go stiff when you place your hand on top of his, “My mom is nagging me to get married and I realised I trust you a lot. That if I gotta do this, I'd rather do it with you. I feel safe around you, Cheol.”

His ears are turning red, mouth going dry. His entire body screams for help.

You study him carefully, lips twitching as he excuses himself out of his home office for a moment.

As soon as he's out, you're off your seat.

“You're insane, Y/N.”, you could sense the disbelief in the voice coming from the earpiece, “You should be an actress.”

“Shut up, Jeonghan.”, you say through gritted teeth, “I have never let my hair down for this long, it's starting to irritate me. My ears are itching.”, you fix your hair so it covers the device in your ear.

Your mouth launches a string of complaints while your hands place work effortlessly to plant bugs over several places.

“The guy seems like a decent person. Throwing a marriage proposal just to wiretap his office seems a bit too much.”, Jeonghan keeps on speaking through the earpiece, "What if he agrees to the marriage, how are you so sure he won't?

You pay no attention to his rambles, skimming through the papers and files, eyes often darting to the door.

“Make sure the devices are working fine. I placed only one camera though, no place to hide others.”, your brows furrow as you go through the files, “Nothing useful here. Maybe I could get something in the drawers.”

But the sounds of footsteps approaching makes you halt.

Seungcheol on entering back notices you in the same stance as when he leaves you.

He carefully walks towards you, almost guilty when he kneels in front of you, “I appreciate that you think so highly of me but we're exactly opposite in terms of personality and aspirations. We won't work out. I'm sorry, Y/N but I can't marry you.”

You hear Jeonghan sighing in relief.

“Woah, he really didn't take the bait.”, you hear him mumbling, “We're done here. It's time for you to leave.”

Jeonghan is about to speak again but he hears sobs.

Seungcheol eyes you in horror as he watches you sob hysterically. Your eyes are red, nose flaring.

“Why don't you understand, Cheol?”, you choke, struggling to speak but do nonetheless, “Do I really need to spell it out for you!!”

Jeonghan shrieks on the other side, this wasn't on the card.

“Calm down Y/N.”, Seungcheol hesitantly holds your hands.

A second later he's about to turn to grab water for you but freezes.

“I like you, Choi Seungcheol! I really like you, a lot.”

Seungcheol's shaky hands somehow manage to grab your face, his eyes searching for yours, “Do you mean it?”

You scoff internally.

“Do I look like I'm joking?”, you say wiping your tears.

He observes you for a moment then you're being pulled into his embrace. Your lips curl up instantly.

Good for you, your tears flow as swiftly as your lies.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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bumblesimagines · 7 months ago

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For Life

Request: Yes or No

Summary: The Wolverine was unmatched in the fighting ring, until a new face arrived and turned his life upside down.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical X-Men Warnings, lots of blood mentions, violence/fighting, both fluff and angst, Logan being as whipped as he was for Jean with (Y/N), age gap cause Logan is super fucking old lmao, more so snippets/a concept over a full fledged fic.

divider by cafekitsune!

~~~

Wolverines generally avoid humans in the wild but are known to be particularly aggressive and even dangerous when cornered or provoked, prompting them to put those sharp canines and claws to work. Wolverines are known for their incredible strength and stamina, but mostly for their infamous ferocity. Despite their reputation as ill-tempered loners, wolverines are known to be social with others and will form lifelong relationships with their mates.

It'd been a cold evening in Laughlin City and most of the bar's patrons had shuffled into the establishment with their faces nearly hidden behind hoods and scarves as they scrambled to get out of the snow and chilling winds. The occasional gust of wind blowing in whenever the door opened left patrons simultaneously groaning in complaint but the heater emitting warm air kept their grumbling and huffing to a minimum. The nipping cold had soured many moods, and Logan could see many men itching to forget about the cold with an adrenaline-pumping fight. He was just eager to make an easy buck.

He braced an arm against one of the cage's support beams and watched with a hint of a smirk as his latest opponent staggered out of the cage, his buddies narrowly catching him before he could plummet onto the hardwood floor and further batter his face. The locals eyed him with a certain disdain, certain suspicion, but he put up good enough entertainment for them to tolerate him. He sniffed, hardly phased by the punches he'd taken during the fight, and nodded to the referee.

"Does anyone else dare-"

"I'll have a go."

Logan immediately craned his head to eye the voice's owner, foreign and new to Laughlin City. He'd been participating in cage fights long enough to begin memorizing the locals, and the fresh face staring back at him was an utter stranger. Passing by Laughlin City, Logan assumed, but he lacked the particular smell of gas, car air freshener, and look of exhaustion to be a trucker like most of the patrons taking up seats around them. He observed him, taking in every inch of his new opponent as he rounded the cage. He seemed young, but then again, so did Logan.

"Name's (Y/N)." He said, staring Logan in the eyes as he shed his jacket and shirt. Someone nearby took both articles of clothing for him, likely eager to see what he'd do, or how he'd go down. Logan had managed to break two noses and chip a few teeth already, one could only wonder what he'd do next. "Nice to meet you, Wolverine."

Logan simply grunted and pushed himself off the support beam, rolling his neck and curling his fingers into tight fists. (Y/N) grinned at him, almost arrogantly, but not with the usual cockiness of a man who thought himself the toughest guy in Alberta. He appeared... too calm for Logan's liking, but once the referee stepped out of the cage and closed the door, he decided to focus on beating his face in instead.

They circled each other first, eyes raking over the other from head to toe in search of a weakness to exploit, of a twitch that'd give away their next move. Logan could hear the muttering of the crowd, the impatient tap of fingers and boots, and the intensity in their stares. His eyes flickered away briefly, and he immediately cursed his mistake when (Y/N) lunged. Despite a part of him urging him to dodge or block, he remained still, expecting (Y/N)'s knuckles to break upon impact but instead, his fist connected effectively with Logan's jaw and he nearly stumbled onto the floor.

Managing to catch himself as scattered gasps echoed from the crowd, Logan grazed his fingers over his aching jaw and raised his head to look at the man. Mutant. No human had ever taken a swing at him without immediately spraining or breaking something, let alone been able to make his head turn with a punch. The corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk and the crowd erupted into cheers, primarily egging (Y/N) on to beat him to a pulp; Logan wanted to see him try.

The ache in his jaw faded swiftly, just in time for Logan to take a swing at (Y/N) and see how much he could tank. (Y/N) dodged his quick swings efficiently, taking steps back each time before he caught Logan's forearm and swiftly spun, his back pressing to Logan's chest before Logan was promptly hauled over his body. He collided with the floor, the cage trembling as if an earthquake had struck, and Logan doubted it'd be able to take the weight of his body a second time without damage. (Y/N) flashed another little grin down at him but instead of taking advantage of his momentary shock, he took a step back and allowed him to get up.

A professionally trained mutant, Logan deduced when he got to his feet, intriguing. And worrisome. He hardly needed a group of mutants on his ass begging him to join them.

"You ready to give up your title of champion, big guy?" (Y/N) questioned with a hint of a mocking coo, his words rowdying up the same crowd who'd turn on him if they learned of his mutant abilities, although Logan guessed they likely already suspected and merely wanted to see him hurt for a change. Challenging in his tone but his eyes studied Logan with a degree of curiosity he typically never saw in others.

"We're just gettin' started, bud."

"Even better."

Everything afterward felt like a whirlwind of punching, kicking, dodging, and blocking; Logan's favorite sort of dance, and one that'd hopefully end with some cash in his pocket and a well-deserved cigar. He managed to maneuver (Y/N) around, his arm coiling around his neck to put him in a headlock most wouldn't survive. (Y/N) pressed back against him, forcing them to stumble backward until Logan's back collided with the cage's wall that miraculously managed to stay put without giving out on them both. Logan released a guttural groan when (Y/N)'s short blunt nails dug into his skin, leaving bright red marks behind with specks of blood that only made him tighten his hold.

"Anything goes, right?" (Y/N) wheezed, his palm pressing against Logan's arm, a chill shooting down Logan's spine when it slowly moved on its own and gave him enough space to catch his breath without the pressure on his throat.

"The hell-"

Straightening his knees and tossing his head back into Logan's face, Logan cursed and released him fully to bring a hand to his nose. He covered it, waiting for it to heal without catching the eye of the people around but (Y/N) gave him no time to recover. He spun on his heel and took another swing at him, bringing his knee up into Logan's stomach when he doubled over and then slamming the bottom of his boot into the side of his face. His head slammed against a support beam and he groaned, the aches and pains healing rapidly but before he could stand up, he realized his body refused to follow his wishes.

"Giving up yet, big guy?" (Y/N) asked with a tilt of his head, eyes glinting with newfound warning. "We'll be here all night at this rate."

Logan swallowed, a hint of panic surging forward at his inability to move and the mystery surrounding the powers being used against him. Some sort of mental ability, he guessed, but whatever it was he disliked it tenfold. Logan grinded his teeth in frustration and begrudgingly nodded. "Fine," He grunted and sighed in relief when (Y/N) released whatever hold he had on him, allowing his body to relax and slump.

While, yes, losing a fight was a bruise to his pride, Logan found himself more intrigued by the fellow mutant, if not more cautious. With the sky darkening outside, Logan retreated from the cage to collect his belongings and ordered some beer while he watched (Y/N) at the other end of the bar. Once the bartender placed the beer down, he scooped it up in his hand and rounded the bar toward him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the men who clapped (Y/N) on the shoulder as if he'd done everyone a service. He waited, though, for everyone to be out of earshot.

"How'd you do it?" Logan questioned quietly, chugging back some beer and smacking his lips as it flowed down his throat. (Y/N) fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, sparing him an amused glance and an arched brow. "The whole- the whole body thing. What is it? Some sort of telekinesis?"

"How about you walk me to my motel and I'll tell you all about it?" (Y/N) grinned again, eyes crinkling despite the way they'd been going at each other moments prior, and he turned toward the exit with a beckoning nod. Reaching into his pocket, Logan jingled the keys to his old, busted RV and watched his grin widen.

Out in the cold night, semi-trucks passed them by on the icy roads beside the snow-tipped bar. (Y/N) tugged his hoodie over his head, keeping it on when he sat in the passenger seat and relished the light heat that filled the RV once Logan turned it on. Logan glanced at him, eyeing his light attire once more but keeping his questions to himself despite curiosity knawing at him insistently. He kept his eyes on the road, careful to avoid going at a speed that'd have them sliding into the forest around them.

"It's not telekinesis." (Y/N) muttered, reaching out and fiddling with the radio dials until he found a decent station. "I.. I controlled your blood. It's not as, uh, clean and pretty as telepathy or telekinesis but it's pretty useful in most cases. I can sense when someone's sick, too, or even help with cuts and infections. I'd make a pretty decent surgeon, honestly." He gave a small chuckle.

Logan snorted, though some unease settled in the pit of his stomach. "Yeah? How'd you figure out you had it?" Logan glanced at him again and immediately noticed the way his features fell.

"It's not a pretty story." He sighed softly, his head tilting to watch the trees and snow pass them by in a mixed blur. "Let's just say, some of my blood got out of my body and I panicked.. and it started levitating... anyways, enough about me, big guy. What's your thing? It can't just be that super-healing thing, right?"

Pursing his lips, Logan clutched the wheel with one hand and curled the other one into a fist. From the corner of his eye, he watched his claws slide out and then swallowed when (Y/N)'s features brightened. Gentle fingers wrapped around his hand and Logan retracted the claws, an unfamiliar feeling swirling in his stomach as he felt (Y/N) run his fingertips over his skin, tracing his knuckles and then the veins along the back of his hand. It'd been a while since he last left a gentle touch, and a quiet part in the back of his mind almost considered him unworthy of it.

"My name's Logan." He grunted softly, the typical tension he always carried fading with each delicate caress.

"Well, Logan," (Y/N) lifted his head with a cheeky smile on his face, his thumb pressing into one of the veins and drawing Logan's eyes toward him. "You mind keeping me company tonight? Or do you have someone you have to get back to?"

"No," Logan's lips tugged upward. "I've got time."

The motel was as rundown as Logan expected, dimly lit hallways occasionally plunging into darkness when the light flickered above them, and the curiosity surged forward again, prodding him to question where the mutant had come from or why he'd chosen Laughlin City of all places to stay in. But (Y/N) gave him no time to dwell further on it, the back of his foot kicking the door shut behind them before his hands grasped the collar of Logan's coat and pulled him in.

There was a dangerous addictiveness and allure to (Y/N), from the way he effortlessly danced the line between sweet and rough: a kiss full of tongues and teeth and nips but smoothed over by gentle fingers massaging the muscle of his biceps when Logan slid his coat off, only for those same fingers to slip through his brown strands and tug. It triggered something within Logan, a growl emitting from his throat as broad hands grasped at the other's hips and drew a breathless laugh from (Y/N).

As much as he enjoyed considering himself a lone wolf, the brief connection with others during one-night stands always reminded him he was still partly human, even when others considered him a savage brute. He savored it, savored when he had (Y/N) on his lap, his chest rising and falling with heaves and lips parted to release low grunts and groans. He savored the feeling of (Y/N)'s arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely, his breath fanning against his ear and allowing Logan to hear every noise he exhaled. He savored the ability to dig his fingers into soft flesh without worry, or sink his teeth into (Y/N)'s collarbone and feel the mark heal beneath his lips. He mostly savored the addictive warmth encircling him and the pleasure that made his thighs tremble.

His arms tightened around (Y/N), pressing him close to his chest, and captured his lips to swallow another whine. For the first time in who knows how long, he found himself hoping he'd see more of (Y/N) around.

But after a few days, the mutant disappeared from Alberta, and a week later Logan took a girl by the name of Rogue under his wing.

"You may see another familiar face here."

Logan turned his attention away from the mutant children, trying to ignore the way his heart warmed at the sight of them living happy lives without the threat of danger from those who despised them for simply existing. He searched the outer yard for any sign of Marie, but he assumed she was likely still getting acclimated to her new home at the school, and finally peered down at Charles questioningly. Charles smiled knowingly and motioned off to the side.

"While I prefer having (Y/N) here for his safety, he enjoys venturing out to help others. I hear you two became acquainted while he was away." Charles spoke, and without thinking twice, Logan's head snapped in the direction he'd pointed in, his heart leaping into his throat at the sight of (Y/N) walking toward him with that godforsaken grin that'd plagued Logan's thoughts and dreams for weeks. "(Y/N) has called this school home for many years, and he often helps with the more severe injuries. I'll allow you two a moment to... catch up."

(Y/N) nodded to Charles as they walked past each other before stopping in front of Logan and crossing his arms over his chest, his head tilting playfully to the side and eyes drinking him in. "It's nice seeing you again, Logan." He stepped closer, eyes lifting to meet his once more. "Here I was thinking about taking a drive back to Alberta. Guess you must've read my mind."

"Pretty sure that's Charles's thing," Logan replied, pressing this thumb into (Y/N)'s chin and curling the rest of his fingers under it. He had to, otherwise he would've convinced himself he was imagining things, that the mutant who'd managed to make him laugh and smile was still miles away someplace else. "What were you doin' in Alberta?"

"I heard rumors and whispers about a man down in Laughlin City and thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. I would've asked you to come back with me but.. that didn't seem like the type of pillow talk you'd appreciate." He explained softly, leaning into Logan's touch and closing his eyes briefly when Logan pressed his palm fully against his cheek, still caught in the fleeting worry he'd wake up and find himself on the side of the icy road with Marie nowhere in sight. "You're here now, though." His eyes opened. "Are you staying?"

"I don't-"

"Oh, come on," (Y/N) scoffed lightly, warmly, and moved in even closer. "It's nice here, Logan. I can finish showing you around and we'll find something for you to do. The food's good, the rooms are nice, and it's... freshening to hear the laughter of kids finally being happy. You'd make a helluva teacher, I bet. Everyone's favorite." His genuine tone shifted into a teasing one, laughing softly when Logan rolled his eyes.

Lifting his brows, Logan smirked and brought him close, itching to close the distance despite a heated voice in his head telling him he didn't deserve the warmth and acceptance. "We can start and end the tour in the dorms-"

"Only if you promise to stay." (Y/N) cooed, tilting his head away to dodge a kiss but he allowed himself to be tugged into an embrace. His arms curled around Logan's shoulders, lips drawing back into a wide smile before he planted a kiss on the corner of Logan's lips. "If you stay, we can finish what we started... and see where it goes."

Logan leaned back, his brows twitching down into a furrow but (Y/N)'s grip around his shoulders tightened, forcing him to stay and not flee from his words. He swallowed, conflicted in the way his brain and heart battled. Half of him screamed at him to leave, to go before he could mess everything up but another part desperately clung to the idea of staying and finally having a place to call home, finally having a person to call home.

He noted the flicker of uncertainty in (Y/N)'s features following his silence, felt him beginning to draw back from the embrace. Logan secured his arms around him and allowed a ghost of a smile to slip. "Yeah," He murmured, weakly at first. "I'd like that."

Truthfully, Logan hadn't been fully listening to what Scott- or well, what Cyclops had spoken about in the briefing about their latest mission. He'd heard the usual 'group of anti-mutants' and promptly tuned out afterward in favor of soaking in how (Y/N) looked in the dark suit, though noted somewhat glumly how it didn't allow him to wear the engagement ring. His staring hadn't gone unnoticed given the amused glances Jean stole and the exasperated exhale from Cyclops before they were dropped near the location of the warehouse.

"Good luck, Lo." (Y/N) whispered to him, planting a kiss on his cheek and dragging his fingers over Logan's beard with a mischievous glint in his pretty (E/C) eyes.

They'd separated pretty soon after, splitting up to cover more ground given the amount of people working with the group. It hadn't taken long at all for the fighting to begin, and despite Cyclops pushing for them to use as little force as possible, Logan couldn't help bruising and cutting a few people up. He managed to knock out a gunman when he heard the distinctive clap of thunder. Amusement had him cracking a grin followed by pity toward whichever fool dared face against Storm, but then he heard her shriek:

"(Y/N)!"

Too high-pitched, loud, and full of horror for Logan to brush aside as a warning call. His footsteps thundered throughout the halls as he moved, shoving and swinging his claws at anyone who stood in his way until he stumbled upon the sight, eyes immediately finding (Y/N) on his knees with Storm beside him. Logan beelined toward them, dropping into a crouch and promptly feeling a wave of nausea pass over him at the sight of (Y/N) blood-stained hands grasping desperately at his throat.

"They-" Storm swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling with panic. "They shot him. He- He can't heal with the bullet-"

"Darlin'," Logan exhaled shakily, pulling him swiftly into his arms and attempting to keep his composure despite the wheezy exhales and gurgles filling his ears. Blood spread across his throat, blobs of it levitating only to lose their perfectly round form and fall onto the floor with splatters each time (Y/N) grimaced. "I know it hurts but you have to focus on gettin' the bullet out. Baby, hey, focus."

(Y/N) stared up at him, wide eyes filling with tears and shoulders shaking with his hiccups and trembles. The red tint of blood on his lips filled Logan with a familiar sense of dread, his arms holding him tighter so (Y/N) wouldn't feel him trembling as well. He watched the blood oozing out of the wound rise, oddly shaped and raised while he worked on shoving the lodged bullet out of his throat before he choked to death on the very thing he could control. He wheezed and coughed occasionally, droplets of blood flinging onto Logan's cheek and coloring his beard but he paid it no mind.

Storm fiddled with her earpiece, stuttering out explanations to Jean and Cyclops and urging them to move quicker. Logan thumbed away the tears that slipped down his (S/C) skin, forcing himself to give encouraging nods and smiles despite the hurricane threatening to break within his chest.

(Y/N) tilted his chin up toward him and Logan swooped in eagerly, kissing him despite the blood that danced on his tongue afterward. He heard the familiar clatter of metal falling onto the floor and leaned back, eyes flickering around frantically until he spotted the bloody bullet rolling around beside them.

"Hey, hey, you did it. You-"

Storm exhaled shakily. "Logan."

Logan's head snapped back toward (Y/N)'s face, first noticing the dullness in his eyes and then the way blood continued freely oozing from the wound. He stared at him, his mind struggling to comprehend the limpness in (Y/N)'s body and the stillness of his chest, the world around him slowly coming to a standstill. Storm's sniffling cries and the frantic questions from Jean and Cyclops as they finally arrived became distant, unable to focus on anything but (Y/N).

"Hey..." Logan exhaled, cupping his cheek as his brows furrowed into a tight-knit. "Hey, hey, hey, you- you can't do this." He furiously blinked away the tears that glazed over his vision, rubbing his thumb into (Y/N)'s cheek and waiting for him to nuzzle into his touch as he always did, but it never came. "You can't do this. You can't-" Logan cradled his body against his chest, burying his face into his collarbone as he'd done dozens of times before. (Y/N) remained unresponsive, his arms falling limply at his sides from Logan's movements.

"You can't do this to me. You promised you'd never leave."

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seoulmatez · 22 days ago

Text

𝓈𝓎𝓂𝒷𝒾𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓈

it's time for your final project and a surprising someone wants to pair up.

anaxagoras x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ enemies to lovers (?)

Evening classes have a way of dragging on for what feels like forever—three hours of lecture with a measly ten-minute break would make anyone feel the same. So when your professor finally dismisses the class for the night, the only thing you can think about is putting your materials away and getting off campus as soon as possible.

With the click of your pen, you flip your notebook closed and move to put it in your bag. When you return to your upright position to do the same with your laptop, a shadow falls over you—someone is standing over you. You drag your gaze up to see who has joined you and your eyes meet pale aqua ones. It’s Anaxa. You fight the groan threatening to bubble from your throat.

Once he has your attention, he doesn’t waste any time getting straight to the point. “Let’s work together on the final project.”

Yeah, like you’d do that again.

Group work has always been a pain. You’d think it would get better in university, even more so having been paired with one of the top students in your cohort, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. Last semester was probably the closest thing you can personally compare to hell—a combination of conflicting ideas, clashing schedules, and incompatible personalities was never bound to work. At no point did it ever feel like the two of you were on the same page. You’re sure you can scroll through your texts from months ago and find at least a hundred of them complaining about him and how difficult it was to work with him.

The only saving grace of the entire experience was that you managed to make it out with a good grade—a perfect grade, actually. That and the fact that you would probably never have to work with Anaxa again was enough for you to put the unsavory incident behind you.

But here he is now, asking if you would willingly do it all over again. You can’t help but snort.

“I don’t think I said anything funny.” Anaxa frowns. Your unwarranted (at least in his mind) sound of amusement seems to have struck a nerve.

You shrug, continuing to pack your things away. “It was kind of funny. I thought we both agreed we’d never be each other’s first choice given the chance to pick partners of our own.” You never explicitly said those words to him and he never said them to you, but you assumed it was a sort of silent agreement when you parted ways.

“I didn’t particularly enjoy having every one of my actions questioned by you—”

You cut him off, “The feeling is mutual.”

Anaxa sighs in annoyance. You had almost forgotten that he hates being interrupted. You didn’t do it on purpose, the words met the air before you even had time to comprehend that you were speaking, but seeing him bothered makes your lips twitch in a reserved smile. Serves him right with how many headaches he gave you.

“But,” he emphasizes the word in a way that further highlights his annoyance which only makes your smile stretch wider, “working with you offered the most ideal outcome.”

“So you’re using me to get a good grade.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. You know that’s exactly why he sought you out. You’ll never admit it aloud, but despite your differences, the two of you tend to think alike at times. A favorable mark is the only reason you would consider renewing this partnership.

“You make it sound exploitative.” He sounds almost offended, though, you can’t say whether it’s because you accused him of using you or implied that he needed you. “I view it as a symbiotic relationship—we help each other and both benefit from the association. Equivalent exchange.”

You silently weigh the pros and cons, wonder if you can put up with him for a month without ripping your hair out. You’re sure you could get by well enough working with anyone else in your class and that it would be much less of a hassle to do so. You’re positive of that, so why can’t you tell him no?

Anaxa isn’t the most likable—he’s prickly around the edges and treats his word as absolute. Though, for all his faults, he isn’t really that bad of a guy. Personal biases aside, he’s smart, and, as far as you can tell, his goal is to share that knowledge with others. That much is worthy of respect. You huff out a breath through your nose. “Fine. I guess you’re right.”

You don’t outright say it but both of you interpret your words the same—it seems you’ll be working as partners once more.

“I’m rarely wrong,” he tells you with a borderline cocky grin. The way your eyes roll is automatic. Unlike last time, you can’t say that you didn’t sign up for this. “Are you free to go to the library?”

“That eager to get started?” You raise your eyebrows as you finally rise from your seat, though you shouldn’t be surprised. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were looking forward to this.” You gesture between the both of you with a finger.

Anaxa doesn’t find your joke funny. “I’m eager to start the project.”

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m going home. Not everyone is a workaholic like you.”

He clicks his tongue. “How long do you plan on making me wait?”

The phrasing of his question makes your heart thump loudly against your ribs. For a moment, you wonder if he picked up on the underlying tone of it, how it could be easily misread, but the placid look on his face leads you to believe you’re the only one thinking in such a way.

You only realize you haven’t given him a response when he raises his eyebrows curiously. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so confused… it’s, dare you say, cute.

You smile. “Not long. You have my number, text me tomorrow.”

manon here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#scribbles ᝰ.ᐟ #hsr x reader #anaxa x reader #anaxa fluff #anaxagoras x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #anaxa x you #hsr drabbles #hsr imagines #hsr x you #— honkai star rail

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writtendaydreamm · 4 days ago

Text

Three Nights Ago

Summary: Langdon has had enough of the silent treatment and confronts Y/n about it

Author’s Note: Based on this submission. I don’t think I’ve really written much angst, but I tried my best lol. Working on a part two, hopefully a resolution between them, but we’ll see! Let me know your thoughts!

Y/n hadn’t spoken to Langdon since that night.

At first, he thought maybe she just needed some space, some time to think. Then she came in to work this morning without so much as a glance in his direction, and he knew it was more than that.

She was purposefully avoiding him.

He could only assume it was because of what he said.

Part of him regretted saying it. After all, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, right? And what he and Y/n had wasn’t broke at all. Quite the opposite. The no-labels, friends-with-benefits, situationship they had going on worked for them. He couldn’t complain. Things were good the way they were.

And still, the thought that things could be better than just good constantly lingered in the back of his mind. It would be a lie to say he didn’t want more. He’d wanted more for a while. Out of fear he’d fuck things up, he never voiced those thoughts out loud, keeping them strcitly to himself.

At least up until that night, that is.

Utterly content, limbs tangled with hers under the sheets, drunk off the feeling of finishing inside of her slick warmth, the thought slipped past his lips before he had a chance to stop himself.

“We should give this another shot.”

It’s not like they were far off from being a couple as it was. He still had a copy of a key to her place, she still had one to his. A half-used bottle of that expensive shampoo she used sat in his bathroom cabinet. A few bottles of his favorite beer were stocked in the back of her fridge.

They’d been doing this dance on-and-off for years now. Never able to call it quits but never able to commit to making it work either. The first time they tried, they had jumped in too passionately, too hastily, too early on in their careers. Like a meteor, they burnt out and crashed at a devastating speed. Then she had met someone else. And then so had he. Needless to say, neither of those exploits lasted very long — none of them ever did. Anyone they tried to see or sleep with was only ever a fleeting moment of sobriety from their all-consuming addiction to one another.

Things were different now though. They were older. More mature. Nearly done with residency. It could work this time. He really believed that.

Of course, she didn’t give him a clear answer that night. Not that he expected one right then. It was a loaded suggestion. He knew that.

He did expect them to talk about it at some point though. It wasn’t his intention to open that door, but it was open now and he needed to know if she was going to walk through it with him or close it in his face.

Three days have passed. Not only had they not discussed that particular topic again, but they hadn’t discussed anything at all since then.

Leaving his texts on read. Not returning his calls. She’d even gone as far as trading shifts with one of the mid-shift residents the last two days all to avoid being around him.

It was worse than outright rejection and he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Tempted to show up to her apartment last night and confront her, he talked himself out of it. It wouldn’t have done anything more than push her further away from him. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Two hours into their shift now and she’s still somehow managed to keep her distance from him. Standing as far as possible from him during rounds. Spending more time in the waiting room doing triage with interns than she’s done in the last couple of years. The closest they’d come to an actual interaction was brushing shoulders as she zoomed past him helping push a gurney into Trauma bay 2.

He figured he’d have to wait till their shift ended to confront her, but luck was on his side today. They both stopped at the nurses station at the same time. They couldn’t have been further apart, standing at opposite ends, but it was better than nothing. He stared at her shamelessly hoping she’d look up and acknowledge him in some way, give him something other than this undeserved cold shoulder. Y/n remained unphased however, typing away on the keyboard in front of her as if he wasn't actively burning a hole through her head with the heat of his stare.

Never one to shy away from telling him like it was, this was unlike her. If she didn’t want things to change that’s all she had to say. While it was true he wanted more, he’d rather things stay as they were than lose her. As inconsistent as their relationship was, she had remained one of the only consistencies in his life. He needed her. She was his crutch. Even just a few days without seeing her, hearing her, feeling her, left him totally crippled.

Watching her walk away from the nurses station, he took his chance. It was unfair to corner her while they were both supposed to be working but he couldn't let this go on any longer.

—

Feeling someone come up behind her, Y/n didn’t have to turn around to know exactly who it was. Maybe it was his cologne, or the familiar sound of his footsteps, or just his presence that she was so attune to. Whatever it was, she knew it was Langdon.

With a heavy sigh, she allowed him to drag her by the arm into an empty examination room. She could have fought his hold if she really tried. Run off and delay the inevitable for another day. Maybe even two if Collins was willing to switch days off with her. But it wouldn’t do much. She couldn’t avoid him forever. They worked in the same hospital, in the same department, on the same shift. It was surprising to have dodged him at all these past few days.

She had every intention to have a conversation with him about that night…eventually. Once she finally knew what she was going to say to him.

However, in the three days she bought herself to think it over, the only things she had put together was the fact that the right words would never come to her, and that even if they did it wouldn’t make a difference. This conversation was going to be hard and painful no matter how she worded it.

If it were up to her alone, she wasn’t sure when she’d gather the nerve to finally speak to him. In a way, Y/n was relieved he was forcing her to rip the band aid off and tell him what’s been on her chest these last three days. This was a conversation they needed to have sooner rather than later and she had put it off for too long as it was.

With the door locked shut, and the curtain pulled close, there was no escaping for either of them now. No turning back.

Standing on either end they were only just a few feet away from each other, but it felt like they were an ocean apart. This was the first time they’d been in the same room since that night. The familiar comfort and intimacy they shared in his dimly lit apartment then was quite the contrast to the awkward tension between them now under the unsettling fluorescent lights.

Silence filled the small, sterile gray examination room, drowning them. They sized each other up, waiting to see who would break and gasp for air first.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Langdon said finally. It wasn’t clear from his tone whether he was asking or telling her this. It was clear however that this had been weighing on him heavily these past few days. She could hear the strain in his voice, see the burden behind his eyes.

It killed her to see him hurt this way and all because of her. For a second she debated sparing his feelings. She could say she traded shifts because of a last minute appointment, or a family emergency that came up. Say she was just too busy and never got to reply to his messages. But he knew her too well and would know she was lying.

Besides, she wouldn’t want him to lie to her. If she wanted his honesty, then she would need to be honest as well.

“You’re right. I have been avoiding you,” she said, owning up to her odd behavior.

He didn’t know what the right thing to say next was, but he did know he was willing to say and do whatever he needed to make things right between them again.

“I know it’s about the other night. And before you say anything, just forget I brought it up. Okay? Things between us are good the way they are, we don’t need change what we’re doing or try-”

The sound of her laugh cut him off. It was a dry, humorless laugh but a laugh nonetheless. Langdon narrowed his eyes at her in confusion and disbelief. Here she was laughing in his face while he was being vulnerable and open about his feelings.

“Glad you find this funny, Y/n.”

“It’s not funny, it’s just — I mean you really thought that’s why I haven’t been speaking to you? Because you said we should get back together? No, Frank,” she shook her head. Her expression stiffened like stone, bracing herself before she continued, “I found your pills.”

She watched his reaction carefully, checking for his ticks and tells. But his poker face was impressive. If he was feeling any sort of pressure it wasn’t showing. He feigned ignorance so well she would’ve bought it had she not seen with her own two eyes the plastic bag of pills stuffed lazily between a pile of shirts in his drawer.

“What are you talking about? What pills?” he asked, brows furrowed convincingly.

“Your bag of benzos. Or the hospital’s benzos I should say. Right? Cause that’s where you stole them from?”

That pulled the rug straight from under him. His face fell instantly and his heart followed falling what felt like a hundred feet down to the pit of his stomach. There was nowhere else to turn, no other way out of this than to deflect and deny.

“Woah — stole? Benzos? Really, Y/n. Are you actually accusing me of what I think you are?”

“Of diverting drugs? Yes, that’s exactly what I’m accusing you of.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

“Frank, spare me. Please. I ran an audit,” she said before he could continue to dismiss what she already knew to be true.

Langdon’s demeanor changed completely at the mention of the audit. His composure faltered, the innocent, ignorant act dropped. He stood before her now guarded and defensive.

With a heavy-heart, Y/n released the last sliver of hope she held onto that this was all just some big misunderstanding. It was obvious now, written all across his face, that this was exactly what it seemed, what she feared.

When she found those pills she wanted so badly to find a logical explanation. There had to be. She thought and thought of every possible reason he would have those pills. As hard as she thought, only one thing came to mind — drug diversion.

Walking into work the morning after, it hung over her head like a dark cloud and the pills she hid in her bag weighed like a ton of bricks. If what she suspected turned out to be true, she risked the safety of their patients and the future of her own career if she didn’t do her due diligence. The guilt of running a medication dispensing report behind Langdon’s back was severely outweighed by the need to ease her own conscience. Upon examining the report, she hoped to find her worries dispelled. But rather than the dark cloud lifting up and away, it poured down on her instead in a heavy rain that washed away any possibility of Langdon’s innocence.

The discrepancies were undeniable. He prescribed and “wasted” more painkillers than any other doctor in their department. That, paired with the pills she found all but confirmed it.

Arms crossed, Langdon doubled down, refusing to admit to it. “That audit doesn’t prove anything.”

“I think Robby would beg to differ.”

All the color drained from his face hearing her bring up their attending. “Please tell me you haven’t told him about this bullshit?”

“No, not yet.”

Though she should’ve. When she found that bag of pills in his drawer that night, the right thing to do would’ve been to take them straight to Robby the very next day. Instead, against the feeling of her gut turning in on itself, screaming at her that something was wrong, she gave Langdon the benefit of the doubt. The pills were yet to see the light of day again, still tucked in the bottom of her purse since that night. Rather than blindside him, she felt it was only fair she spoke with him first, to give him a chance to explain himself before taking any serious action.

Thank God, he thought. As long as this stays between them and doesn't leave the room, things will be fine. He’ll be fine.

“I’m telling you, whatever you think is going on, is not what it looks like. Okay? It’s me, you know me, you know who I am,” he pleaded, lowering himself to her eye level.

“I’m not so sure I do,” she admitted woefully, searching his eyes looking for the Langdon she knew, the Langdon she loved. But the man before her wasn’t him.

Her Langdon was not a thief and definitely not an addict. Sure, he was a bit of an adrenaline junkie always seeking a rush. Jumping out of planes, bungee jumping, hang gliding — risk taking behavior wasn’t out of character. But she could never have imagined he was capable of this level of self destruction. That he would risk throwing away everything he’s worked so hard for.

The words hit him like a slap to the face. “How can you say that?”

“Because I know, Langdon. The pills I took from your apartment? I haven’t had them traced back to who distributed them yet because I really don’t want to see your name there. But I know it will be,” she cried out.

Among all the words she said, took from your apartment, repeated in his head. It had just dawned on him now — she’s had the pills this whole time. He had been looking everywhere for them. Retracing his steps, turning his apartment inside out, searching through every nook and cranny of his car, clearing out his locker. He’d been on edge these past couple days wondering where they went. If they fell into the wrong hands he was fucked. At least now he knew where they were. The relief that brought was only momentary though as irritation quickly took its place. He ran his hands through his hair trying to keep a lid on it.

“What are you doing going through my stuff in the first place?” he practically sneered at her.

Unbelievable, she thought snorting at his audacity. The nerve he had to turn things on her and make her out to be the bad guy for finding the pills in his drawer as if him having those pills in the first place wasn’t the more pressing matter here.

“I wasn’t going through your stuff asshole,” she spat back snidely. Not like it would’ve taken much to find those stupid pills anyway. She had been looking for that worn out blue t-shirt of his she loved sleeping in and there they were, practically begging to be seen.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

“Why? Are you trying to get your fix?”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m not a drug addict, Y/n,” he snapped, her comment really hitting a nerve.

“Is that right?” she scoffed mockingly. “So then please explain to me why the fuck you have a plastic baggie of prescription pain killers hiding in your drawer?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said, voice rising in his frustration.

“You’re right, you don’t,” she agreed, much to his surprise. “But you do have to explain yourself to Robby once I bring him what I found.”

With nothing left to say, she brushed past him making her way to the door. Before she could turn the handle, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her from behind. Langdon held her tightly, dragging her back and away from the door. She used all her strength, fighting against his hold. But he was too strong for her.

“Get your hands off me. Let go,” Y/n cried out. “You’re being an asshole, Frank. Let go of me.”

Mindful the walls weren’t soundproof, Langdon released her but ensured to block the door with his body. Hoping to reason with her, to explain himself, and talk her out of telling Robby, he approached her. It wasn’t intended to be aggressive, or intimidating, but he must’ve been too worked up to realize he was coming across that way.

After one step towards her, Y/n immediately backed away from him, eyeing him warningly like she was afraid of him or what he might do next.

It was like a dagger to the gut seeing the way she recoiled from him like he was some sort of threat when just days ago she was begging for his touch. He stepped back dejectedly, giving her the space to feel comfortable. With a deep breath to calm himself, he explained earnestly the pills were simply a means to an end.

“I’m just weaning myself off, okay?”

“And how long have you been weaning yourself off, Frank?” y/n challenged.

He was quiet. If he answered it would give away how far off the deep end he’d fallen. But she didn’t need to hear him say anything to figure that out for herself. His hesitancy and agitation, the way he averted her gaze, his shifty body language, was all the answer she needed. He hadn’t just fallen off the deep end, he was sinking to the bottom of it.

How had no one noticed? How had she not noticed? There had to have been signs. Then again maybe the signs were there and she was just blinded by her bias, by her feelings for him, by her trust in him.

She wouldn’t allow that bias to affect her now. Not that he was making it easy for her. His usually vibrant blue eyes were dulled by despair as he looked into hers begging her to believe and trust him now.

“You need help,” she urged softly, taking a tentative step closer to him.

It was Langdon who backed away from her now. He didn’t need any help. He was handling this his way. Like he said, he was just using whatever was left of his patients’ medications that would’ve been dumped anyway to tide him over as he worked through the withdrawals. He knew what he was doing. He knew these drugs and how they worked.

“I have this under control,” he maintained. “I’m not some tweaker off the street.”

“Are you really so far up your own ass you can’t see that you have a problem.”

“I don’t have a problem,” he insisted tensely, through gritted teeth.

Too stubborn for his own good, she cared about him too much to let him sink any further. She already failed him once missing the signs. There was no way she’d turn a blind eye now.

He’d probably hate her for what she was about to say next. But he left her no choice.

“If you don’t tell Robby by the end of the day, I will.”

Frozen in his spot, his mind raced with the implications of what she’d just said.

The ultimatum was the final nail on the coffin of their conversation. Whether he had more to say or not, she wasn’t sticking around for it. Brushing past him quickly, afraid he might try to stop her from leaving again, she managed to get on the other side of the door.

The sound of the door shutting pulled him out of his thoughts. Turning over his shoulder, he caught her eye through the door’s glass panel as she too spared one last glance back at him.

The last time their eyes locked so intensely had been that night. The night he suggested they give their relationship another shot. The night she found those pills. The night that would turn out to be the catalyst, setting off a series of events that would change his life as he knew it.

She turned away first having seen something in his eyes she’d never seen before, at least not directed toward her — contempt.

Standing in the room alone, the walls closing in on him, her last words ringing in his ears, he slammed his fists against the counter.

Fuck.

#dr langdon x reader #frank langdon x reader #langdon x reader #frank langdon #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #frank langdon fanfiction #frank langdon imagine

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revehae · 11 months ago

Note

Could you do something from dream 00line + mark bullying, dub con and non con? 🥺

well… this is basically what you asked! i changed it up just a little bit tw // noncon, forced oral (m receiving), gangbang

“come on,�� jeno groaned playfully, grip on your hair tightening. “that’s not how you used to do it.”

you whimpered weakly, the muffled sound sending a tiny tremble through jeno’s cock as he kept your warm mouth around him in spite of your protests. not that you could expect anything less from him. he was never afraid of forcing you into something you never wanted.

jeno had never seemed afraid of anything, now that you thought about it. you still remembered the risky exploits they made you tag along on. how could you not? it was only some years ago, back when they would force you to please them in the boys’ locker room.

haechan laughed, both at jeno’s encouragement and the miserable look on your face. he always did like seeing you suffer. “you want her to gag on your dick like a virgin?”

jeno shrugged. “call it nostalgia.”

“guys, come on,” mark said, as if he was trying to put a stop to this. but you knew better. time after time of being disappointed, getting your hopes up thinking he would make them leave you alone, you learned years ago that mark was hardly any different. “aren’t we a little too old for this now?”

haechan rolled his eyes in annoyance. “jesus christ,” he sighed. “will you ever get off your moral high horse?”

“he can do whatever he wants. he can leave, if that’s what makes him happier,” jeno said, in spite of knowing mark wouldn’t go, the same way you did. he yanked your hair harder, forcing your mouth further down onto his cock until you were damn near suffocating. “i’m not stopping until she gags.”

jaemin laughed out of nowhere, having been quietly watching the entire situation unfold. “maybe she’s had practice since then, jeno.”

“you mean, our little slut has been whoring herself out to other guys?” haechan chimed in, snickering. the thought amused him. no guys used to ever come near you, like you were the most unfuckable thing in the world. you were obscure and unnoticed.

jeno felt you pushing at his thighs like you used to do when you desperately needed to come up for air. “in that case, what’s the fucking problem? why are you being so difficult?”

your eyes winced closed when jeno slapped your cheek, the burn of his palm sizzling on the side of your face as you jolted back. your eyes watered, and before you could bother to recover, jeno was forcing his cock back inside your throat, thrusting his hips.

that was when you finally and inadvertently gave him what he wanted, gagging around his cock and scraping at his thighs for mercy that he wouldn’t give you, keeping your mouth on him by your hair.

“that’s it, babe,” jeno told you, looking down at you with a blend of scorn and amusement. “choke on it just like that.”

mark shook his head in disapproval, arms crossed. “jeno, dude. you’re gonna hurt the poor girl.”

jaemin crouched down beside you when jeno pulled out of your sore throat, having finally gotten what he wanted. “don’t be such a prude, mark. she can take it,” jaemin replied, looking at you almost dotingly. he pressed two of his fingers into the corners of your lips and forced them into a smile. “isn’t that right, baby?”

you shook your head, backing away from them until you crashed backwards into the side of the hotel mattress. when you started to crawl towards the door, haechan kicked your ass with his shoe, making you slump onto the floor for all of two seconds before you scurried onto your feet.

and nearly tripping over them, you made a beeline for the door. the same door mark was near, as if he was toying with the idea of turning around and heading out too. but rather than let you go, he gripped your arm.

your eyes were stinging. you glanced up at him desperately, hoping that maybe he would show some remorse. “please. you said you were sorry. you promised.”

it’s not right, mark told himself, swallowing as he looked at the fear in your stare. after graduating, he told himself that he would be a better man and not a stupid boy.

and that was why on the last day of school, he took it upon himself to apologize for everything the four of them had done to you that senior year. he promised that he never meant for things to go so far, that he meant every word of what he told you, that he regretted everything he had done to hurt you.

and even now mark wanted to make them stop, he really did. but that desire was outweighed by the one to feel you again, to lose himself in the heat of you as his thrusts became more and more restless.

and a moment or three later, that was exactly what he was doing, all the while holding your smaller body down as his eyes fluttered closed, hypnotized by the sweet squeeze of your vice-like cunt. he became increasingly feverish with every passing second, unable to hear the thoughts that told him to be gentle.

jaemin nudged haechan playfully. “you know, this is exactly how i remember it.”

“ah,” haechan replied with a pleasant sigh, a little smile on his lips as he watched mark fuck you mindlessly. “some things never change.”

#nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #mark lee smut #lee haechan smut #na jaemin smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #haechan smut #nct dream hard hours #tw: noncon

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caws5749 · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, can you do nat x reader? Reader can walk through walls so the avengers hired her because she can be an asset to the group. What she's not telling them is she could see the red string of fate. She sees tony is connected to pepper, scott is connected to hope and etc. But she couldn't see hers that is until she met natasha

A/N: this is such an absolutely beautiful idea and I am so honored to be able to write this, this genuinely may be one of my favorite requests I have ever received

The music provided the perfect ambience for the scene. It was loud enough to be heard and felt, but quiet enough for conversations to be had. Voices came from every direction, some laughs floated above. The party was your first since joining the Avengers team.

You let your eyes wander about the room as you sat on the couch. Red, faint, glowing strings could be seen about the room. Some connected to another person at the party; some went out the window.

Your heart warmed seeing Tony and Pepper, their strings relatively short given the closeness between the two as they shared a private conversation. A smile tugged at your lips as your gaze fell to Hope and Scott. They were a bit further apart, their string a bit longer, glowing brightly under the lights. When they shared a loving look, you couldn't help but feel hopeful about your own life.

You couldn't see your string, you couldn't see your fate. But you could see everybody else's. Well, not everyone had one. Some people just didn't have someone they were to end up with. Some people's person wasn't here anymore, as sad as it was. Steve didn't have a string, but you knew at one point he certainly had. Natasha didn't have a string either. You weren't quite sure why. Perhaps she had had someone and they were here no longer. Or maybe she just didn't have someone and never would. Perhaps she wanted that. Perhaps she didn't.

You hadn't actually met the red-head yet. When you'd joined, she'd been gone on a mission and was supposed to return this evening. Perhaps you'd finally get to meet her. You found that she was often on your mind, for a reason you still hadn't figured out. It just seemed that no matter what you did, Natasha Romanoff was there.

But your ability to see that fate of lovers wasn't even why you were on the team. In fact, the team had no idea about that little gift at all.

You'd been hired for quite a different skill-set, one that even you couldn't quite seem to figure out why it happened. While it seemed odd to say, you could walk through walls, something that was incredibly useful for mission. You and Vision shared that little gift, and once it became apparent you could fight and were easy to train, they were happy to have you on the team. It helped that you often knew just how to pressure certain adversaries, possibly because you could see who they were connected to. You could see their weakness, as much as you hated to exploit it.

"There she is!" Clint's slightly intoxicated voice rose above the rest. You quickly looked in the direction of the doors, eyes going wide. Natasha Romanoff stood in the doorway, smirking slightly at her best friend, donning a skin tight black dress. She was practically glowing.

She moved into the room, her hips swaying. She seemed to move in slow motion. Her eyes quickly swept across the room, starting at the opposite side of the room and moving towards you. The Widow stopped in her tracks as her emerald eyes met yours. Her smile faltered, brief shock and an unknown emotion flickering across her face.

You felt a sort of pull, a tug and you looked down to see a red string emerge from your chest. You watched as it lengthened and met another string. Your breath caught as you saw that string had come from her. And while she had been practically glowing before, she was actually glowing now, a soft red hue surrounding her silhouette.

"Nat!" Clint yelled. She ignored him.

You stood from the couch and she switched her direction to you. You met in the middle.

"I'm Natasha. Why haven't I met you before?" she questioned softly.

"I'm Y/N. I just joined."

She hummed and tilted her head. You could tell she couldn't quite tell what was going on.

"Why do I feel... drawn to you?" You couldn't decipher if she had asked that rhetorically.

"It's a long story," you murmured. She quirked an eyebrow.

"I've got all night."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x femreader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #mine #avengers imagine #Natasha Romanoff imagine #requests

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unclewaynemunson · 2 years ago

Text

Pt2 of the badly kept secrets of Eddie's heart monitor

After the first two weeks, Steve seems to have suddenly decided to stop visiting Eddie. No explanation, no goodbye: one day he's there, and then he... Isn't. It takes a few days, sometimes, Steve has a life of his own after all, but a whole week goes by with nothing. And another one. Eddie only knows he's alive – and in town – because the others told him when he asked. Maybe Steve's gotten tired of being surrounded by all that hospital sterility. Or maybe he's gotten tired of being around Eddie. Or maybe... Eddie groans and takes up a stare-down with the fucking heart monitor that's still attached to him at all times, his biggest enemy.

Unfortunately, he has way too much time on his hands, alone in this room and unable to do anything but lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. It makes it far too easy to let his thoughts spiral. Maybe – no, probably, certainly, undoubtedly – that goddamn heart monitor was the ideal help for Steve to decipher Eddie's biggest secret without any difficulties.

Yes, that must be the reason why Steve is staying away. Sure, the guy could tolerate being around “the freak” for a few hours a week out of pity, but of course he wouldn't want anything to do with him anymore upon finding out exactly what kind of freaky thoughts he really has about Steve. Steve was polite enough to pretend like he didn't notice the heart monitor speeding up every single time he got in Eddie's proximity, but of course, of course he noticed. He noticed and now he hates Eddie.

And honestly? He has every right to hate Eddie, with the way Eddie has been exploiting every opportunity to get Steve to touch him. Even though he'd regret it right away whenever the heart monitor couldn't shut the fuck up, Eddie never learned from his mistakes. He was even stupid enough to find meaning in the way Steve's touch would linger after helping him lie down or sit up, stupid enough to find tenderness in the way Steve held his arms when helping him out of his bed and to the bathroom. Obviously, Steve never wanted any of that. Obviously, that only made Steve uncomfortable, but the poor guy was too polite to lash out to the dude chained to a hospital bed healing from having all his organs chewed inside out.

Eddie sighs and closes his eyes; not because he wants to sleep, but because the staring contest with the heart monitor isn't really getting him anywhere. Maybe it's for the best that Steve is staying away. That way, Eddie might be able to get over him more easily. He doesn't deserve Steve's friendship anyway.

***

“I wanna visit Eddie today.”

“Alright, have fun,” Steve answers. “Tell him I said hi.”

Robin sighs dramatically. “No, dingus, you're coming with me. I need a ride.”

“No!” It comes out of his mouth a little too quick, a little too loud, and Robin raises her eyebrows at him.

“No, I can't,” he explains in a calmer voice.

Robin raises her eyebrows even further, making them disappear beneath her bangs altogether. “You literally just told me you don't have plans after work.”

“Yeah, but...” He lets his voice fade out and settles on muttering something incomprehensible.

“I did not understand one single word of what you were saying,” Robin points out. She sounds annoyed, but there's a vaguely amused smile playing around her lips, betraying how she really feels about the whole thing. “Seriously, what's up with you and Eddie? Did you have a fight or something?”

“No...”

“Until two weeks ago, you were at the hospital basically every spare minute of your time. You even canceled two dates just so you could spend more time with Eddie! And now, all of a sudden, you'd rather spend your evening on your own at home watching TV than visit your friend?”

“He's not my friend,” Steve protests.

She gives him a punch against his shoulder.

“Okay, I'm pretty sure he hates me, Rob.” Steve finally caves in. “He gets, like, very uncomfortable whenever I'm around. And I don't wanna add to his discomfort any more than necessary, so it's better I stay away from him.”

“Well, I don't know what on earth gave you that idea, but that is by far the biggest load of bullcrap I heard all week,” Robin says matter-of-factly. “He's asked about you every single time I visited him. He'll be happy to see you, dingus, you're coming with me today. No excuses.”

***

Like clockwork, the steady beeping of the heart monitor falters as soon as Eddie locks eyes with Steve. To make things even worse, what little color that is on Eddie's cheeks leaves his face immediately.

Despite the paleness of Eddie's face, Steve can't help but notice how good he looks in comparison to when he last saw him two weeks ago. He's sitting straight up, leaning against a pillow, and the look in his eyes is far from drowsy.

“S-Steve,” Eddie stutters out. “Hi.” He clears his throat. “And – and Robin, of course, hi! Good to see ya, Buck.” He stretches out his arms to embrace her, and Steve awkwardly comes up behind her. It feels weird not to follow Robin's example and give him a hug, but when he bows over the bed and wraps his arms around Eddie, the beeping immediately picks up speed again. To make things even worse, Eddie quite literally recoils from his touch, leaning away as far as possible and letting his arms hover in the air around Steve more than actually hugging him back.

When Steve looks at Robin, he notices that her eyes have grown about twice their normal size while they flash back and forth between Eddie, the machines around his bed, and Steve.

He locks eyes with her and tries to silently convey a See, I told you so about Eddie resenting him. She answers with a barely visible nod and relief fills Steve's chest. He's lucky to have Robin right by his side, his best friend, the one person he can always count on understanding him. She'll get them out of here in no time and leave Eddie in peace and –

“Oh shoot, sorry, I forgot I need to get a, um, a thing from the car,” Robin says. “I'll be right back.”

As she stumbles out of the room, Steve wants to scream at her that that was very much the opposite of what he wanted her to do, but she disappears before he can do anything about it, only leaving an awkward silence in her wake. So Steve has no choice but to turn back to Eddie and take his familiar place in the chair beside his bed.

“I kinda didn't expect to see you anymore.” Eddie is the one to break the silence. He sounds more distant than the last time Steve saw him. It must be worse than Steve thought: Eddie had been happy to be rid of him and now here he is again, after a meager two weeks of peace.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. “She insisted I come with her.”

“So you didn't wanna come?”

Steve chuckles darkly at the irony in that question, not really knowing how to answer that.

“Alright, I'm just gonna say it,” says Eddie when it becomes clear that Steve doesn't quite know what to say. “You figured out what I – how I felt about you, didn't you? Cause of the heart thing.”

Steve looks away, stares intently at the ugly dark blue linoleum carpet under his feet.

“Yeah,” he quietly confesses. There's no use denying it now, he figures.

Eddie heaves out a long sigh.

“For what it's worth: I'm really sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to make you-”

“It's fine,” Steve quickly interrupts him. He doesn't think he could bear Eddie's pity right now. “Don't worry about it. I just wanted to give you some space, y'know, get outta your hair for a bit. I didn't want to make this any more painful for you than it has to be.”

“Really?”

The heart monitor stutters again and Eddie's voice sounds weirdly strained. Steve can't help but look up. He's met with big brown eyes that are looking at him like Eddie actually cares about him. For a moment, Steve imagines to see tears, but then Eddie blinks and the illusion is gone.

“I um... I appreciate that, man,” Eddie says.

Another awkward silence dawns over the room.

“Wait,” Eddie says after a few seconds. “So you're not angry?”

“No!” Steve immediately replies – and it's true. He understands why Eddie doesn't like being around him, that too much has happened in the past for them to just move on and hold hands or some shit.

“It's not your fault,” he tells Eddie. He looks away again, back to the floor in front of his sneakers. “If it's anyone's fault, it's mine, right?”

Eddie huffs out a sound of disbelief. “Why, cause you're just too damn sexy, Harrington?”

Steve frowns. “Well, no, cause I was an asshole and I was mean to your friends during all of high school and it's stupid of me to expect you to just get over that shit and-”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

There's that stutter in the heart monitor again. It makes Steve wonder if he's putting Eddie's health at risk by simply existing next to him. Maybe it would be better to leave Eddie alone and wait in the car until Robin is done with her visit. What the hell is taking her so long anyway?

He keeps his eyes stubbornly focused on the blue floor. “Isn't that why you got so uncomfortable having me around?” he points out. “Look, I get it, man. I was an asshole, it's true. And it was selfish of me to keep showing up here only because you were too polite to say to my face what you thought about me. I was only thinking about myself and about how much I liked being here with you, it wasn't fair.”

All of a sudden, the soft touch of a hand lands on his shoulder. He hates how that makes his own heart speed up. If he were the one attached to a heart monitor, Eddie would've seen right through him in an instant, that's for sure.

He looks up and meets Eddie's wide-eyed, somewhat shocked face.

“You - you thought you were making me uncomfortable?” Eddie asks him, sounding like he's completely gobsmacked.

Steve frowns. “Isn't that what we've been talking about for the past five minutes?”

“Steve,” Eddie says. “I am so sorry. I didn't – I never – Look. Listen.” He removes his hand from Steve's shoulder and roughly wipes it over his face. His heart monitor accelerates even further. “Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you, okay?” He doesn't wait for a reaction, only uses his pause to take a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again and looking right into Steve's.

“I'm gay, Steve. And that evil computer over there-” He points towards the heart monitor, “-keeps betraying my big, fat, gay crush on you. Every time you walk in here, or read my book to me, or do so much as smile at me, I just – God, I'm such a goner for you and there was no hiding it because of that stupid fucking thing.”

This time, Steve is quite sure he is not at all imagining the tears in Eddie's eyes.

“I thought that's why you stopped visiting. Cause you figured out how gay I am – about you – and you didn't want anything to do with that. With me. Being gay. For you.”

Eddie swallows. He lifts a hand and pulls a strand of hair over his face in a poor attempt to hide the truly terrified expression that's all over his features.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Steve breathes out. He can't even begin to comprehend how spectacularly wrong he has been about everything. It's almost like he's in shock. Only a minute ago, he thought Eddie despised him. And now, he has to process the revelation that the guy in fact has had a crush on him – a “big, fat, gay crush” – all along. That the reason his heart was behaving so weirdly was because Steve's proximity made him lovesick. That he recoiled from Steve's touches out of fear that the monitor would give him away and make Steve realize he was gay and in love with him.

“Please say something?” It sounds like a question, small and so afraid of what is about to come.

“Eddie, I – Jesus. This is... A lot. To process,” Steve manages to choke out.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I'm sorry I made you think I hated you. But... Please don't hate me. I really missed you visiting. We can be friends, right? You won't even have to touch me ever again, we can just hang out like bros, and I'll try to get my feelings for you under control, and you can-”

Steve finally gains control over his body again: he leaps forward and presses his lips against Eddie's with slightly more force than he had meant to do.

A surprised yelp escapes from Eddie's mouth, and the beeping of the heart monitor goes even crazier. It makes Steve's own heart do a goddamn cartwheel, that audible proof of what he is making Eddie feel.

He completely understands why the heart monitor is going batshit crazy right now; everything about this is fucking amazing. One of his hands finds its way to Eddie's surprisingly soft hair, and he revels in the feeling of touching Eddie again and in the taste of Eddie's lips against his own, and maybe he should just climb into Eddie's bed to–

“Thank God for that.”

They quickly jump apart to find Robin standing in the doorway, an annoyingly smug grin on her face.

“You two could really not be more stupid if you tried, huh?”

Steve squints at her while his hand blindly finds Eddie's on top of the sheets and curls itself around it. He feels his cheeks heat up, but he doesn't care. Nothing matters anymore, except for Eddie's hand warmly resting in his own.

“Did you even need anything from the car at all?” he asks Robin, raising an eyebrow at her.

“No, of course not,” Robin scoffs. “Just needed you idiots to finally get your shit together. I don't think I've ever met anyone more dense than the two of you, seriously! There were at least three moments when I almost barged in here to just smash your faces tog-”

“You were eavesdropping on us?!”

“Obviously.”

Steve opens his mouth, indignant and ready to tell her exactly how mean and evil she is, but she merely raises a hand and the look in her eyes is terrifying enough to shut him up before he has even started speaking.

“Hey, listen,” she says. Something in her face softens. “I'm really happy for you guys. Seriously, no matter how stupid you are, you two deserve every bit of happiness in the world.” She takes a step backwards towards the door. “I'll go wait in the car, dingus. Go kiss each other some more.”

And before Steve or Eddie can say anything, she winks and closes the door behind her.

Taglist: @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @saramelaniemoon @lololol-1234 @carlajim98 @7-starboi @acedorerryn @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @zoeweee @resident-gay-bitch @my2amgaythoughts @didntwant2come @steveshairspray @noodle-shenaniganery @thedragonsaunt @finntheehumaneater @queerriotgrrrl @co5m0 @dino-nuggets-posts

#in which robin is all of us #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #they're idiots your honor #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 months ago

Text

The Ballad of the Golden Knight and the Flower Nymph ~ Jaime Lannister x Tyrell Reader

Summary: Y/N has been Jaime and Cersei's best friend since before they were born, the fated trio of a bard's adventure story, however, not with a happy ending. When Jaime and Y/N fall in love, and Cersei becomes more and more bitter and jealous, revenge must be had. If Cersei does not know happiness - Then no one is allowed to.

> The story follows Y/N's relationship through the years with Jaime and Cersei, all the way until Daenerys' return to Westeros.

(( Jaime Lannister fanart by Michael Komarck ))

"There it goes! Quick, Jaime, before it gets away!" a lovely young lady was running around the flower garden trying to catch up with a cute orange cat they spotted while sparring in the training grounds. They had heard the knight training them to come back or they'll get scolded - But the warning fell on deaf ears. The same as the cat, who didn't want to cooperate, and escaped by climbing up a tree... And Jaime after her.

The poor boy was struggling to climb up the tree, but the cat was much faster and nimbler than him. "Shut up, Y/N, of course, you’re faster on the ground - But I can't climb up as fast as the cat! In fact, why don’t you climb up here and scare it down, so I can chase it around instead?"

Y/N wasted no time and climbing up by his side, grinning like a little imp. "I was enjoying my view." she teased the boy who blushed a little. "Besides - You were being graceful! I have to let you overcome this challenge, right? Knights are supposed to be strong and nimble, aren't they?"

"I’ll have you know, I’m as nimble as that cat!" he sounded mock-offended, pouting at her, only to hear the cat meowing defiantly from a higher branch, just out of reach. Both of the children started giggling.

"Oh yes, Ser Jaime the Cat Knight the Nimble, sworn to the chase. Shall I sing of your exploits?" the girl leaned forward, close to his face.

Jaime, however, hit his chest with pride. "You’ll be singing of my victory when I catch it! Just wait." he declared boldly as he lunged for the cat, darting further up the tree - Though he went to fast that he almost lost balance, making Y/N worry.

"Careful! If you fall, I’ll have to make you a crown of thorns instead of flowers! I want to sing of your success, not at your funeral!" the statement made the boy let out a confident laugh.

"I would wear it proudly either way, if it came from you, my sweet lady!" Y/N blushed a little at how charming Jaime could be - With them being spoken for, it was difficult not to imagine a loving and beautiful future together.

Eventually, however, they both gave up trying to catch the little devilish feline, retorting to laying on the ground by the flowers and looking up at the clouds lazily passing by - And then, they looked at each other, and laughed.

"Do you think it's laughing at us now? Two idiots, defeated by a scrappy little stray cat?" Y/N asked, turning to her side to look at her beautiful betrothed.

Jaime grinned, sitting up enthusiastically. "It is not over, Y/N! Next time, I will catch it for sure! And when I do, you will owe me a proper song about Ser Jaime the Cat Knight!"

Y/N smiled sweetly at him - He was so innocent, so untainted, so pure and genuine - A golden knight, a true sunshine, who deserved only the best in the world. He was beautiful, with golden hair messily emanating around him like a Godly aura, and those emerald eyes sparkling so precious with boyish enthusiasm and vitality. He was perfect. "Fine. But if you fall again, I will make the song about Ser Jaime the Tree Tumbler instead." they shared a laugh again, before Y/N had an idea, and fell back on her belly, quickly gathering some white, yellow and red flowers, quickly making a gorgeous flower crown. "For Ser Jaime of House Lannister - I have made you this crown, fit for a gallant knight, for when you prevail over that feline demon!"

Jaime's eyes went wide with surprise, and his cheeks were red. "A knight, you say? I’m hardly one yet... But I’ll gladly accept it from you, my lady."

"You look very regal. Like a lion of summer, crowned in blooms. It suits you, Jaime." her compliment made the boy smile even wider - One of his baby teeth had fallen, and he looked goofy and cute. Still, he laughed carefree.

"A lion of summer? How silly! What would Father say if he saw me now? 'A Lannister wears gold, not daisies,' he’d grumble. Ha!" Jaime imitated his father masterfully, making them both laugh even more.

"Oh, hush! It suits you. Besides, gold can be cold. This is warmer, don’t you think? Flowers are beautiful - And so are you." she spoke in such a sweet tone that it made Jaime's heart melt with warmth and darling.

"It is… warmer. Thank you." but much to his surprise, instead of a response from the girl, he received a sweet kiss on his cheek; Jaime's cheeks reddened more than the flowers he was wearing. "Wh-What was that for?"

"For being my knight in shining armor, of course! Every fair lady should reward her champion of light and justice, don’t you think?" she giggled cutely, making the boy stand up straight and tall, like a valiant knight should.

"Yes, that is right! And when I become knighted - Ser Jaime Lannister - I shall make for our wedding - What say you, the most beautiful Flower Lady?" he picked her hand gallantly, kissing it; He adored how lovely she looked, so demure and graceful, even when she wasn't trying, even when she was covered in dirt and wearing breeches. She was so soft and sweet, like no other. Everything she did made him so deeply in love with her.

"Ser Jaime Lannister the Golden Knight, and Lady Y/N Tyrell, the Rose of the Realm."

But it was always "The Knight and the Rose", not "The Knight, the Queen and the Rose", Cersei bitterly remarked, as once again, she was being left out from the activities her own twin brother and best friend were so joyfully doing. She wasn't allowed to horse-ride, wasn't allowed to spar, to do archery, to wear breeches and tumble around the mud like a pig, or chase after cats and dogs like a simple fool.

She was simmering internally with anger, and her face was twisted in envy, watching those two being all lovey-dovey. After their mother caught them in bed together, she separated them to sleep in different wings of the castle; She was forced to share a bed with all those headless chicken who try to befriend her, while Jaime enjoys the glee of having his bedchamber just across Y/N's own room. Why does their mother not make a fuss about those two sneaking into each other's room? Of course, Cersei snitched on them, but it wasn't a problem, because they were betrothed, she said. They need to get to know each other, she said. Horse shite, Cersei said, before having her mouth slapped.

Angry hot tears stung at her eyes that night, punching the pillow and kicking her bed maid off the bed. If the person by her side wasn't Jaime or Y/N, then they didn't deserve to share the comfort of her bed. It was hers, not theirs.

As dark thoughts kept tainting her heart, she didn't realise how she butchered her embroidery, and even stabbed her own finger with the needle - Nor that her father stepped behind her.

"You might be proficient with the wrong kind of needle." her whole body shivered in shock as she heard her father's grave voice. "You are supposed to bleed the enemy to death, not your own self."

"Father..." she grumbled under her breath, looking at Y/N and Jaime going back to sparring. "Look at them. Rolling in the dirt like common stable boys. It is unbecoming of a lady, don’t you think, Father? She is unworthy of becoming Jaime's wife - The future Lady Lannister, the wife of the heir of Casterly Rock."

"She’s indulging Jaime. That is not unbecoming; it is strategic." he spoke calmly. "Do not think I have any love for her family - In spite of that, however, politically speaking, this alliance is as powerful as it can get. Save for the Crown, there is no stronger family worthy of our lineage."

But Cersei was hearing none of it. She was bristling with rage and deaf to the political truth of the matter. "Strategic? She’s filthy! If that were me, you would drag me by the ear and lock me in my chambers for a week!" she exclaimed like a brat. "Her whole family is uncouth filth - She said she was riding horses since she was old enough to walk, and has been training in falconry with her brother all the same! How is that worthy of our noble family?!"

Tywin took a sharp inhale, making his daughter's blood freeze in her veins; It was clear he was getting fed up with her complaining."If that were you, Cersei, you’d be shouting at your brother, demanding the sword instead of proving you can wield it better. Or sulking when it wasn’t handed to you." she tried to complain, indignant at the accusations, but her father cut her off immediately.

The Lannister Lord looked at the yard, his piercing green eyes staring at Lady Y/N ducking with great agility under Jaime's swing and lightly tapping his side with her sword - His son laughed, declaring her the victor. Unlike his twin, Jaime was not a sore loser; He worked hard to overcome his weaknesses, to become a better version of himself. He was not the smartest, academically speaking, and he was having great problems even reading - But at least, when it came to wielding a sword, he was a prodigy. Tywin knew better than anyone that he needed a shrewd and intelligent wife to help him govern Casterly Rock after he was no more.

"She knows how to play her role in this mummer's show. A lady when it matters, and clever enough to win favor when it doesn’t. That is why she is worth my time, Cersei." the Lord told his daughter.

Cersei hissed at her father angrily. "So I’m not worth your time because I don’t prance around with flowers and simper like a fool?"

"No, you are not worth my time because you waste it. You’re too busy complaining about what you’re not allowed to do instead of mastering what you are. She can stitch a tapestry as finely as she can outwit Jaime with a wooden sword. Can you say the same?" Cersei's fists clenched with simmering rage, her nails biting into her palms painfully. Her voice got lower, venomous.

"She isn’t perfect. You only favor her because she’s a Tyrell. She brings wealth and alliances. If she were not, you would scold her just like me." she declared boldly. "Besides - Mother didn't have to behave like a fool to charm you. She was just pretty... And a maiden. Just like me.

"Do not mistake my favoritism for weakness. If she falters, I shall correct her. But unlike you, she doesn’t test my patience every time she opens her mouth." Tywin scolded his daughter coldly, watching as she flinched at the harshness of his words, though characteristically of her ego, she refused to back down. Her gaze shifted back to the two playing fools, watching as Jaime helped Y/N get up from the ground, though he still looked bright and full of admiration at the Tyrell girl, despite her being filthy from head to toe, just like him.

"It's not fair... She’s bewitched him. Jaime looks at her like she hung the moon. That’s why you’re so indulgent. Because she’s wrapped him around her little finger, and you think she’ll keep him loyal to you." she huffed, her eyes narrow and filled with murder. "Jaime is mine, not hers. He is my twin brother. He should spend time with me, not her - She is just a stranger. She can't steal everything from me, in my own home!"

"Cersei - Open your ears and listen clearly to me." her body froze in place with unexpected fear. "We all must play a role in this life, based on what dice we roll." he spoke solemnly. "The circumstances of your mother and I were far different than those of Y/N and Jaime - Though do not think, even for one second, to downplay your mother's worth to only her beauty and maidenhead." she never heard her father speak that way - He wasn't a man of compliments or sweet words, yet in his own way, he was scolding her for reducing his wife to being just another woman. "Y/N is here to make Jaime fall in love with her, marry, make children, and inherit Casterly Rock. The strongest two houses in Westeros are bound to thrive for generations on end." he continued his speech. "Likewise, she is here to teach you how to behave in the same way - How else are you supposed to learn how to shake down that nasty attitude of yours and become a woman worthy of charming Rhaegar Targaryen?"

Cersei jumped in her seat, her attention shifted completely on her father. "Rhaegar... Targaryen...? Th-The Prince, you mean? The Heir to the Iron Throne?"

"I will not have mine own daughter marry any less than the best there is in this realm." he declared coldly, looking into the horizon with cold spite - Cersei knew there was some bad blood between her father and King Aerys, but she wasn't aware of the details. "I will make you the Queen of the Realm, even if kills me - So instead of sulking and spitting venom like a viper, how about you use even half of that effort into honing those skills you take such pride on - Bitterness will get you nowhere. Listen to her. Learn from her. Never falter - And then, you shall become Queen."

For once, Cersei didn't protest - She hadn't met the Crown Prince yet, but she heard tales of how gallant and handsome he was, just like in those romantic tales she heard - For once, Cersei imagined herself Jonquil, in the arms of her beloved Florian - What a foolish tale - She was foolish indeed, to be dreaming of such childish things - She wasn't just a girl, she was the daughter of Tywin Lannister; She wasn't supposed to fall in love to the idea of a beautiful and valiant Prince who would treat her right... But she was get enamoured, dreaming of a man she had never met.

For once, Cersei didn't dream of sharing a bed with either Jaime or Y/N, but with a silver-haired boy with purple eyes like amethyst, and with the heart of a dragon. Y/N and Jaime can have each other, for all she cares; A dumb lion and a cunning rose. They can do whatever, as long as she marries Rhaegar Targaryen and becomes the Queen of the Realm.

"Jaime! Jaime! Look!" a young girl chirped enthusiastically, holding her skirts up in her arms, as if she was holding something. "Look what I found!"

Jaime looked at the pretty little lady with utmost interest and curiosity, drawing closer to her - To his surprise, he saw four baby bunnies nestled together. "Rabbits? Where did you find these?"

"I was in the flower garden nearby, looking for pretty red flowers to make crowns for you and Cersei - I found the mangled bunny mommy under a tree, and a few babies next to her. These three were the only surviving ones." the golden haired lioness also approached the two, looking at the little fluffs with a frown and slight disgust.

"They look... Weird." she muttered under her breath. "They're too small. We can't eat them, nor make pelts out of them. You should have left them to die as a family. They're too small to know they are suffering, regardless - Father says it's a mercy."

"I..." little lady Tyrell's smile fell, and she looked down at the terrified bunnies. "I... Hoped we could take care of them. Maybe Lord Tywin will see this as an early way of taking responsibility - Learning how to take care of a frail and vulnerable creature, so we get used to taking care of our babes when we grow older?" she tried to reason, but Cersei only scoffed, looking away.

"As if my Lord Father would ever agree to such a folly..." without much grace, she pinched her fingers around the scruff of a brown bunny, lifting it up - As soon as she got it to eye-level, the little critter squeaked loudly, making the lioness let go of it to fall back on the skirts of the Tyrell girl. "What an awfully loud and uncouth creature."

"You were much like it when you were born, daughter." the three children all jumped in shock as they heard the Lord Lannister's stern voice; Thankfully, he was followed by his Lady Wife, who was smiling warmly at them. They remained mute as the father raised another of the rabbits and inspected it.

"This one looks old enough to live without its mother. The eyes are open, the teeth are strong, and its limbs are nimble." he put it into his wife's delicate hands.

"And almost as darling as a baby." Lady Joanna added with a motherly hum. "I think Lady Y/N's idea is a most brilliant one - I would say they are old enough to learn the way of the household, would you not agree, my darling?"

"For Cersei and Y/N yes, I would say so, but what about Jaime? He has no time to fool around, he is to become a knight, not a kennel master for rabbits." Lady Joanna placed her hand delicately over her mouth, stifling a sweet giggle as she placed the bunny in Jaime's hands.

"You are most correct, my darling - However, would you not agree that it would bring Jaime and Y/N closer, taking care of babies together, the same they shall do in the future, when they marry and create a family of their own? Mayhaps this little exercise of responsibility will foreshadow their future happy life together." as always, Tywin couldn't argue with his dear wife's reasoning - He could almost never refuse her. In fact, the man held a half-smile and offered a curt nod to the children before leaving them to their plays.

"And there even is a fourth little bunny, for Cersei's and Jaime's little brother!" Y/N exclaimed, making Lady Joanna smile kindly, placing her hand over her slightly swollen belly.

"Don't come crying to me when they die." was his last response before he entered the castle to return to his duties, followed by his wife.

Although Cersei didn't want to admit, she was quite happy her father agreed to allowing them to keep the rabbits - In spite of it not being thanks to her own persuasion, but her friend. Truly, it was fine, she tried to lie to herself - Though whenever she looked at Y/N as saw that radiant smile... Or, rather, whenever she saw how happy Jaime was, staying around Y/N like a moth to the flame... A piece of her was breaking. Jaime was HER twin, they shared the same womb, he came into this world holding her foot - Jaime should love HER the most, not Y/N!

But Cersei couldn't be angry at Y/N - Not when Y/N was the only person who understood her. Not when Cersei could talk to her about falconry and horse-riding, about archery and swordsmanship. Y/N wasn't like all those stupid bedmaids who know only to gossip and seam dresses. Not when Y/N was supposed to marry Jaime, not Rhaegar Targaryen.

No, Y/N was different, she was raised different. She had loving parents and loving siblings who adored her; The people of Highgarden weren't looking down on her for wearing breeches and playing in the mud with her brothers or learning how to ride with them - In fact, they praised her for being proactive and wishing to learn as many arts as humanly possible. She was always praised for every little thing she did - Something that Cersei had never heard of, especially from her father. The only comfort Cersei ever had was the loving embrace of her mother, and the company of Jaime and Y/N...

However, she was jealous on both of them, to such a burning degree, that oft times, she couldn't hold back a sneer or a snarky comment that would hurt them.

She wanted to be a nice person, truly, she did - But why was Jaime treated differently, just because he was a body? Why was he allowed to play around and get dirty, to practice swordsmanship, archery, horse-riding... While she was stuck learning the history of dead men, and sewing some ugly flowers of a dress. She loved Jaime - She wanted to be Jaime - When they changed clothes, they were one and the same, not even Tywin Lannister could differentiate between them two. She loved Jaime - But she also hated Jaime.

The same way she loved Y/N, but also, hated Y/N. Y/N could embroider the most beautiful patterns, she could paint the most picturesque landscapes, make the prettiest flower crowns and bouquets, master all the arts taught by the Maester... As well as roll around in the mud like a pig with her brother... Or help with spar... Or indulge in archery competitions... Or ride small horses... Or chase cats through the garden... Or even indulge in falconry...

She hated how she felt so bitterly about everyone around her - She wasn't like this, she didn't want to feel like this. She wanted to be beautiful, graceful, kind - She wanted to be a woman worthy of being called 'The Queen of Westeros' ; and yet... She was well aware, these dark, tainting feelings were eroding her from the inside, and only her mother could help her diminish those awful thoughts and feelings plaguing her soul. It was times like those that not even the thought of marrying the silver haired beauty wasn't capable of consoling her.

"Well then!" Jaime was the first to chirp up, digging his hands into Y/N's skirts and retrieving the most energetic and robust bunny; That one was a gorgeous shade of blue-grey and velvety soft, with light coloured eyes. "You shall be mine companion!"

"He is definitely a fighter, just like you, Jaime!" Y/N giggled cutely, watching her beloved hold the bunny up so awkwardly, yet with a sunny grin on his face.

"And just as much of a fool - Look at it, wiggling in your grip, as if it wouldn't shatter his bones if he fell to the ground from that height. Fragile little fool." Cersei crossed her arms, spitting at the two, though not even she could deny how cute those little critters were.

Jaime, however, ignored her comment, and only let out a boyish snigger. "You shall be the greatest knight to ever be! Just like The Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne!" he claimed boldly. "So young, yet already so legendary - Ser Bunny Dayne!" he said in a loud, confident roar.

"What. An. Idiot." Cersei let out a loud groan, before picking her own bunny; It was a golden girl with light coloured eyes. It could, in no way, match her beauty - But it was, by far, the prettiest of the three, and the most refined-looking. "Mine shall be called Queen. I will have the blacksmith forge a crown for her, and you and your plebeian rabbits shall bow down and kneel in front of us." she smirked at the other two, who smiled sweetly at her, doing a joint reverie curtesy.

"My Queen!" they giggled in unison, as Cersei finally seemed satisfied with the outcome.

The runt of the litter was a white rabbit with black eyes, small and scrawny. "My little darling shall be named Rose." Y/N cuddled the little petal-sized bunny into her neck, watching as Jaime cooed at how cute they were, with the rabbit nuzzling into her cheek as if seeking protection and warmth.

"It's settled! We now have three companions worthy of a ballad to be sung by the bards across generations! The Knight, The Queen and The Rose!" declared the boy boldly.

"Sounds like a wonderful tale to be sung for tourneys and events of all kinds!" Y/N clapped cheerfully.

"Yes, yes, magnificent, I agree." Cersei looked at the two bright idiots with disdain. "But has either of you any idea whatsoever on how to take care of a bunch of rabbits?" they remained mute and unmoved. "Thought so. You two are idiots, that's what you are." she scoffed once again. "There are midwives and nurse-maids who take care of infants - But who in their right minds would know how to take care of infant rabbits?" she scolded the two. "No matter. Let us see if the maesters can help us - Or perhaps the horse or kennel masters. They are all animals, cannot be that different, can it?"

"Cheers to Queen Cersei for being the brightest of us!" Y/N clapped at her for her bright idea - It wasn't that she didn't think of it, but Cersei had been so upset lately, that she needed to find some way of gratification - Of validation - And since her own father was never going to give it to her, and the words of her mother were already beginning to dwindle on her, the last thing she held was some authority grip on her little group of friends.

But that wasn't long to last, as no matter how hard she tried, Cersei could never receive the praise she so dearly craved for. No matter how pretty her writing was, Y/N's calligraphy was always better, more gracious, more feminine and elegant. No matter how good her seaming and embroidery was, Y/N's was always more refined and intricate. No matter how well she did in politics and history lessons, there was always some little tid-bit useless trivia that Y/N came up with to impress the Maesters and Septas.

Not fair! It was not fair!

She was still young, she had time to learn, of course! She was still young, and so was Jaime - They still could switch places and pretend to be the other twin, and Y/N never snitched on her... But that was worse, because her father allowed Y/N to train and play around with Jaime, and it was so much fun!

She loved to swing a sword around, to get dirty and wear breeches, to do calculus and think up war strategies, to pull back the string of the bow and shoot arrows -- Sure, she wasn't very good at it, but how could she be, if she wasn't allowed to train herself, like Y/N did? Oh, she was so very jealous, watching Y/N ride on a beautiful mare, by Jaime's and Tywin's side, and on her gloved hand, a most beautiful falcon nuzzling its beak into her cheek as she fed it some meat.

She wanted to be the one on that horse. She wanted to be loved by the falcon. She wanted to have her hair breezed by the wind as she rides into adventures. She wanted her heart to race with adrenaline and excitement. She wanted to spill blood and gore.

Instead, she was doomed to be mounting a throne, to be loved by a disgusting old man probably, to have her hair breezed by the air on her balcony, to have her heart race with annoyance as he climbs into her bed, and spill the blood of her maidenhood and the gore of her births.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair! Just because she didn't have a cock between her legs didn't make her any less worthy and capable!

She looked at Jaime with disdain and envy, stabbing her embroidery and biting her lip until blood trickled down her chin - He couldn't even read properly, but he was allowed to train to become a knight? All of father's good traits came to her, but she just had to be a woman like her mother - Yes, she was beautiful, but at what cost? It was a curse to be a woman.

But how can she excel, when her bitterness and jealousy overwhelm her very senses? When her pride and greed for validation are stronger than her will of remaining a passive little doll to be manipulated by others. She is a lioness, she is strong, noble, prideful, arrogant and confident - How can she allow herself to sit back and just embroider and smile and... Nothing else.

These gnawing worries and emotions kept plaguing her to the point that she hadn't realised how she was falling behind in her studies, until her father went to check on their maesters and septas to see how they were doing - And it was not a pretty sight.

The Lannister Lord looked at Jaime's work with a rare nod of approval - Though slower than average, his son was capable of clearly reading out loud the words written on the books he was supposed to study; Tywin had tried time and time again to make sense of the letters jumbled inside his own son's head, and was never able to sort it out. "The Maester tells me you’ve been making progress with your reading, Jaime. I was beginning to think it was beyond you."

Jaime, not having expected a compliment from the cold man he calls father, blushed faintly, looking down with a boyish smile, before gazing at Y/N. "It wasn’t easy. But I had help." likewise, the girl smiled sweetly at him. Of course it was the Tyrell girl who got Jaime to learn how to read properly, he needn't be surprised anymore.

"Y/N has been incredibly patient with me... More patient than I deserve, if I am being honest. She found ways to make it easier for me to piece words together, despite the letters not making sense to me and looking chaotic in my head." Cersei wanted to vomit at how annoyingly cutesy those two idiots were being with each other. They didn't have to flaunt how very happily in love they were with each other, and all that nonsense they were shamelessly displaying in front of everyone.

"I do not deserve all the praise, My Lord, I truly have not done much; Jaime did all the hard work himself - He is very diligent when he sets his mind to do something. He just needed a push in the right direction, and he flew on his own from there." oh, what an annoyingly humble and selfless response - Cersei hated that. If she achieved something, she wanted to be praised for it, not to pretend to be holier than thou. "Diligent or not, you did well, Lady Tyrell. Jaime is lucky to have a devoted and patient wife such as yourself." Tywin felt like his body was being burnt and prickled with thorns, spewing such compliments, but if it meant achieving what he set as his goals, it mattered little. Cersei needed to learn from Y/N, and Jaime had to marry Y/N. The Highgarden resources were highly valuable, and so was the Crown power.

Alas, his plans were only going half his way, as his daughter, with the ever spiteful venomous tongue, cut in to protest. If only she would learn to shut up, she would be seen as wiser. "I tried to help him too, Father. But it’s impossible to teach someone who doesn’t even try to learn."

"That’s not fair, Cersei! It's not my fault I see the letters flying and constantly changing places!" Jaime protested immediately, not appreciating the way his sister was blaming him like that.

Cersei slapped her hands on the table, raising up and hissing at her stupid younger brother. It was times like these, when he was agreeing with her, that she felt completely alienated in her own home, by her own family - She was truly alone. "Oh, it is not? Did you try this hard when I sat with you for hours, sounding out every word? No! You just stared at the page like a dullard, and when I corrected you, you sulked like a child!" she crossed her arms, huffing in anger. "I was right to stop wasting my time. You’re hopeless, Jaime. More suited to swinging swords like a lowborn than inheriting Casterly Rock. You never had a problem reading - You just wanted Y/N's attention so you can impress her."

The room falls silent, echoing with the sound of a slap, as Cersei's face gets struck, and she falls to the ground. Jaime stiffens, remaining silent, while Y/N instinctively bites her lip and holds his hand for comfort. She was always somewhat afraid of men who acted violent, though she couldn't fault Tywin for disciplining his misbehaving daughter - Y/N herself wanted to strike Cersei for speaking so ill of her beloved Jaime.

"I, myself, tried teaching Jaime how to read - Are you saying I would not know if my own son had a problem with his studies? Or do you assume that, when he says the letters are jumbled in his head, he is lying to get out of studying?" the Lord's voice was harsh and grave.

"Exactly so!" Jaime sighed, squeezing Y/N's hand. "Y/N helped me read intuitively... I read the shape of the letters, of the words, so I try to read the first and last letters and guess the words. I read fast this way, yes, but I do not always read correctly - So I have to go back to reading the same word again, and figure out where I was wrong..." he tried to explain, though his own ailment was difficult to understand even for himself, let alone to put it into words. "I... I am sorry I am so difficult to deal with... I promise I really tried my hardest to get better... And I still am... But it does not always work as I wish it to. It takes patience... And I am very grateful for every bit of it."

"Jaime has worked so, so hard, and he has improved so much. When we study together, he focuses with such determination... He stays up every night to practice reading, even though he wakes up tired in the morning." Y/N cleared her throat. "He wanted to make Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna proud by reading a poem for them, on the anniversary of their wedding."

Jaime’s tension eases slightly, and he gives the Y/N a bashful, grateful smile. Tywin, in turn, looked sharply at Cersei - How was she going to make Rhaegar Targaryen want to wed her, when she has such a disgusting attitude? No man would ever want a spiteful and opinionated wife like her. "Do you hear that? Patience. Encouragement. Qualities you sorely lack, Cersei. Instead of supporting your brother, you insult and belittle him. And you wonder why you fail where others succeed?"

Cersei's voice rose up, in spite of her knowing she will get awfully punished - Her red cheek was stinging, and tears streamed down her face, but it was in vain - Whenever her pride took over, her mind took a backseat and she forgot herself. "Why do you always take her side? She’s not even your daughter! In fact - You treat her more like a daughter than you treat me!"

Tywin rose a quizzical eyebrow, though remained unshaken. "Is that so?" he spoke in such a low, cold tone, that it made all three children shiver with a terrified chill. "Then tell me, Cersei. Why is it that every report I receive from your Septas and the Maester mentions your negligence? Your embroidery is sloppy, your history lessons are incomplete, and your arithmetic is abysmal."

Cersei, however, remained on the defensive. "They exaggerate! I’ve been studying, obviously, but how can I focus when she—" she gestured her hand towards Y/N. "When she keeps giggling with Jaime and skipping classes and distracts me all the time?"

Her father cut her off with a tone as sharp as valyrian steel. "Enough." Cersei froze on the spot as her father stepped in front of her, looking down at her with such disappointment that it physically hurt more than the slap itself. "Making excuses for your failures by dragging others into it is unbecoming of a Lannister. You think you can mask your laziness with lies? To humiliate the noble House of Lannister?" he called for one of the Septas to come in - She nervously did a curtsy, unable to look up at him. "Show me her embroidery - And than Lady Tyrell's."

The other Septas waiting outside hurried to retrieve the most recent pieces hastily - He was not proficient in embroidery, but one needn't be, when comparing Cersei's uneven stitches, and the little prickles of blood stained on the sides, to Y/N's delicate and intricate romantic pattern of a golden lion surrounded by blooming roses. What a disappointment. Surely his own children should have inherited some of his talent and wit... Hopefully, the third would be better. "Discipline, diligence and pride - As opposed to lack of interest, haste and boredom."

Seeing her own embroidery next to Y/N's made Cersei feel positively humiliated - She hadn't realised until then how far apart they were. "You take pride only in being a Lannister with wealth and power - Though you do not possess the skills, nor the will for it. Perhaps if you studied as much as you complained, you would reach at least a quarter of Lady Tyrell's level."" her face was burning with shame, as her father asked the Maester to bring about their academic progress records.

"Lady Tyrell has consistently excelled in her studies, my lord. Her arithmetic is precise, her history essays insightful, and her understanding of High Valyrian is remarkable." the old man cleared his throat awkwardly. "As for Lady Cersei…" he hesitated, gulping down as he glanced nervously at the Lannister Lord. "… has struggled to meet even the minimum expectations."

No one spoke another word; The maesters and septas all left the chamber, leaving Lord Tywin alone with the three children. With a nod of his head, Jaime took Y/N's hand and they, too, bolted out of there, not wanting to be subjected to his wrath.

"What do you have to say in your defense, daughter?" one last chance he offered her, before a tidal wave of critique shall follow.

"What would you have me do, Father? I see Y/N for who she is - She is not nearly as much of a fairy as everyone thinks she is! She is pretending - She seduced Jaime and everyone around her - She is trying to steal everything from me!" and Tywin expected nothing more from his brat of a daughter. Why could she not be as well behaved as her own mother? He swears Jaime is more like Joanna - How could Cersei inherit nothing from her own mother?

"For her to 'steal' things from you, as you say, you must first 'own' things - Which, mind you, you do not own anything. Everything you have is thanks to me and mine own efforts, not by any means anything that you have done thus far." Cersei’s hands tremble with rage, but she says nothing. "Why must you squander every opportunity to prove yourself? Can you not see you are not nearly as smart as you think you are?" he continued with his disappointment. "You are angry for being a pawn used for political alliances, yet you do nothing to prove your worth above marriage - Yet how much use can you be of me, when you behave like a spoiled child, and you would repel the Crown Prince at first sight with your unruliness?" the idea of Rhaegar looking at her and running away from her broke her heart in pieces.

"What would you have me do? Sit and smile like her? Pretend to care about embroidery and make up while Jaime is allowed to chase glory?" Cersei’s eyes burn with tears, but Tywin pays her no mind, as usual.

"I would have you master the tools at your disposal. You are a woman of House Lannister. You wield power not with swords, but with intellect, charm, and influence, yet you refuse to cultivate any of these because you cannot see beyond your own bitterness. That is why you fail. Instead of using your advantages to secure a future worthy of our name, you squander them with petty jealousy and spite." he then continued in a softer, yet no les chilling tone. "You embarrass me, Cersei. If you drive away the Crown Prince with your disgusting arrogance and spite, then you are of no use to me."

Cersei storms out, her anger boiling over into hot tears as she vows silently that one day, she’ll show them all. She’ll show him. She’ll prove she’s more than they think — At any cost.

She sought out the only person of comfort to her, and fell to her knees before her mother, dramatically hugging her legs and sobbing loudly into her lap, as Joanna could only pat her golden locks to appease her. "Not fair! Mother, it is not fair! Why does father always scold me, but never Y/N? Why does Jaime like Y/N more than me? Why can Y/N do the same things Jaime can, but I cannot?!" she cried like the little five year old child that she was, noticing the blinding differences between them. "Am I not good enough for father? Am I not a worthy daughter? Am I meant only to breed like a cattle cow, and bring babes into this world, while Y/N and Jaime have fun together, going on adventures and living a happy and fulfilling life?!"

"Oh, my sweet child, that is not true." Joanna kissed the golden crown of her head. "Your father cannot scold Y/N because she is not of our own family, but a Tyrell - She is an important member to alliance with, for political purposes - The fact that Y/N and Jaime get along so well is just a pure coincidence."

Joanna smoothed a hand over her daughter's golden curls, her touch gentle as always. "You are your father's only daughter, Cersei. He holds you to the highest of standards because he expects great things from you."

Cersei sniffled, pulling away just enough to glare up at her mother. "He expects me to sit still and be quiet! He expects me to smile and curtsey and act as if I am no more than a broodmare to be bartered away!" her little fists clenched at the fabric of Joanna’s gown. "Why doesn’t he expect that of Jaime? Why can Jaime do as he pleases while I—" she hiccuped, her voice breaking "... while I am scolded like a child for simply wanting the same?"

Joanna sighed softly, brushing a tear from Cersei’s flushed cheek. "Because Jaime is a boy, my love. And you…" she hesitated, then cupped her daughter’s face in both hands, forcing Cersei to meet her eyes. "You were born to be something else entirely. Something greater."

Cersei blinked, her breath hitching. "Greater?"

"Yes." Joanna nodded, her voice soothing, but there was an undeniable weight to it. "Jaime will grow into a knight, yes, but you, my sweet girl — You will be the Queen."

For the first time since she had fled to her mother’s chambers, Cersei’s breath steadied. The Queen. That meant being the wife of Rhaegar Targaryen, the mysterious and gallant prince of her dreams, the man she had never met before, but often fantasised over. The thought sent a strange thrill through her veins, stronger than any promise of adventure, stronger even than her desire to best Y/N. The realisation that, being the Queen of Westeros, gave her the power to rule - And she always loved having authority and power over people.

"The Queen..." she repeated, as if tasting the words for the first time.

"Queen Cersei." Joanna smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. "But a Queen must have patience, my love. She must be clever, and careful. She cannot lash out like a little girl throwing tantrums."

Cersei frowned. "But Y/N—"

"Y/N is not you." Joanna interrupted gently. "She will marry Jaime one day, yes, but that is her role. Yours is far grander. Yours is to rule. When you father and I are no more, and Y/N and Jaime marry, Y/N will rule over the Westerlands and most - But you? You will be the sole power over the whole Seven Kingdoms."

Cersei swallowed, her mind racing. To rule. The words filled her head, drowning out the ache in her chest. Perhaps she had been foolish to cry over Jaime’s affections and attention. Perhaps she had been wasting her energy on a war that was already lost. Let Jaime and Y/N have their foolish happiness.

She would have a crown.

She straightened, brushing the last of her tears away. Joanna, ever perceptive, smiled faintly as she watched the shift in her daughter’s expression.

"I understand now, Mother." Cersei said, lifting her chin. "You are right - I am a big girl now - And big girls don't cry. Rhaegar would never like me if I was snotty and bratty, after all."

Joanna pressed a final kiss to her brow. "Good girl."

And in that moment, Cersei decided—if she could not have Jaime’s freedom and Y/N's favoritism, she would have the world's respect.

At any cost.

The four little rabbits had become the heart of their small world - And the fourth one was always laying on Lady Joanna's swollen belly, as if to protect her baby and become a symbol of safe birth.

Jaime had taken it upon himself to bring her fresh greens from the kitchens, and even Cersei — Who had been reluctant at first — Would sit beside her mother, gently stroking the little white rabbit’s fur as they talked about the future. It was true, she was jealous thinking there would be another Lannister to be the competitor for her mother's love - But she would teach her sibling some discipline.

And then, the day of the birth came.

Joanna’s cries had echoed through the halls, sending a cold shiver through the children as they waited just beyond the chamber doors, into the garden outside.

Jaime paced restlessly, his hands clenched into fists. He looked at Y/N, who was trembling, mortified - If they marry, he would have to put Y/N through this horror? Was that what being a woman was? Was that how their mother shrieked delivering them also? It was cruel and unfair - He didn't want his mother to go through this - And he didn't want Cersei and Y/N to go through this either.

Cersei sat rigidly on the bench, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her foot tapping anxiously against the floor as she manically petted her rabbit. Y/N, though her hands trembled, kept her voice gentle as she spoke to them - Yet it was wavering and weak. It was the first time the twins saw the perfect rose being shaken and afraid.

"Your mother is strong. She’ll be fine."

Cersei shot her a sharp glare but said nothing. As much as she wanted to snap at her, she didn't have the power to.

Then, at long last, the screaming stopped. Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Jaime reached for Cersei’s hand, squeezing it tight. Y/N bit her lip.

And then— Finally— The door opened.

But it was not Lord Tywin who emerged. It was a Maester.

Jaime and Cersei leapt to their feet at once, searching his face for any sign of relief. Y/N felt her stomach twist as the old man hesitated, adjusting his chain as if weighing his words carefully.

"The child is a boy..." the Maester said at last, subtle tears pooling in his eyes.

Jaime let out a breath. A boy. A little brother. He always wanted a little brother to play with, to protect, to teach. Cersei, however, could care less, and Y/N was deaf to those news. She knew, based on the man's face, something awful happened.

"Lady Joanna, however ... Did not survive the birth."

Silence.

Jaime went pale.

Cersei froze.

Y/N’s heart stopped.

"No." Cersei’s voice was barely a whisper at first, then it grew. "No. No, she—she wouldn’t—"

But the Maester only bowed his head. "Lord Tywin has asked for no disturbances. He is mourning in solitude."

Jaime’s breath hitched, and then he broke in fits of loud sobs; He stumbled back against the wall, his hands covering his face as the first sob tore from his throat.

Cersei stood shaking, her fists trembling at her sides, and then she screamed, and shrieked her lungs out - A raw, ugly sound, filled with fury and heartbreak. She threw herself against the Maester, shoving him back with all the strength her little body could muster.

"You’re lying! She’s not dead! She can’t be—SHE CAN’T BE DEAD!" the old Maester staggered but did not retaliate. Grief destroys people, he knew it all to well, and at such a frail age, no les... ; Cersei spun toward Y/N, eyes burning with tears and rage. "You said she would be fine! YOU LIED TO ME!" Y/N flinched, but before she could say a word, Cersei lunged to attack Y/N, to shake her, to yell in her face, to blame her; Jaime barely had the strength to stop her. He caught her wrists as she swung at Y/N, his sobs breaking between his desperate pleas.

"Cersei, stop... Please..."

But she was too lost in her grief. "I hate you!" she screamed at Y/N, her face contorted in anguish. "I hate all of you! I hate him! That little monster! He killed her! He killed her!"

The little brown rabbit — Joanna’s rabbit — Had been placed in the crib with the newborn, its soft fur brushing against the infant’s tiny hands. Cersei saw it, and something inside her snapped. With a choked cry, she tore away from Jaime’s grasp and ran.

Jaime collapsed to his knees, his face buried in his hands.

And Y/N, stunned, heartbroken, knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders. She wanted to tell him everything would be alright, but she could not bring herself to lie - Not when she was so deathly afraid of her own fate.

Time, however, waits for no one, they say, and Lady Joanna Lannister's body was burnt, while everyone else had to move on with their lives, just as before.

Casterly Rock’s grand halls felt suffocating under the weight of grief, though its lords and ladies carried on as if nothing had changed. But something had changed — Everything had changed. Lady Joanna Lannister was dead, and in her place was a wailing, red-faced babe who had done nothing to earn his family’s love. Lady Joanna Lannister was dead, and with her, so was the last bit of humanity in Lord Tywin Lannister's heart.

Still, just as previously planned, Princess Martell of Dorne, along with her son and daughter, had arrived not long ago, and their presence brought an unusual warmth to the keep. Oberyn and Elia — young, lively, and utterly unafraid, had made their way through the lion’s den with confidence, their sand-kissed skin and bright Dornish silks standing in stark contrast to the heavy crimson and gold surrounding them.

Cersei had taken it upon herself to guide them through the Rock, though Y/N and Jaime were never far behind, trailing lost lost puppies trying to catch up to her - Or stop her from bringing them to the Lions' cages.

"You must see the monster." Cersei had said, leading them toward the nursery with a cruel glint in her eye. "The beast that took my mother’s life."

Elia hesitated, casting a wary glance at her brother, but Oberyn, always the curious mischief, followed with amusement. It was even better seeing the worried and apprehensive look on Y/N and Jaime, as they looked at each other, though had no clue how to stop the imminent problem that Cersei Lannister was. As beautiful as she was, she was perfectly ruthless.

The nursery was quiet, save for the soft cooing of a wet nurse tending to the infant Tyrion who layed nestled in his crib, with the tiny brown rabbit still curled beside him, twitching its pink nose in sleep.

Cersei wasted no time in dismissing the wet nurse, and showing off her cruelty for the world to see. "Look at him." she sneered, stepping up to the crib and glaring down at the child. "This grotesque little thing, with his misshapen head and his ugly little stubby hands. He should have died instead of her. He has no right to live."

Jaime stiffened beside Y/N, his hand curling into a fist. Y/N swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably as Elia frowned deeply, her hands clasped before her.

"He is just a babe, Cersei." Elia murmured, but Cersei did not hear her, nor did she care to hear. She reached into the crib, her fingers curling around Tyrion’s soft, chubby flesh.

"Cersei, don’t —" Jaime warned, but his sister ignored him. With a sharp squeeze, she took hold of the infant’s tiny prick and pressed, harder and harder, watching as Tyrion’s face scrunched up in agony before he let out a high, piercing wail.

"Cersei, stop!" Y/N gasped, stepping forward, but the golden-haired lioness only pressed harder, her teeth bared in fury.

"You are the reason she is dead!" she hissed at the helpless babe. "You took her from me! You killed her! You should have been strangled in the cradle, you little monster!" Jaime lunged, shoving Cersei back just as Oberyn moved. The black haired Prince grasped her wrist with a firm but careful grip, his dark eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

"He is just a babe." Oberyn said smoothly, though his voice held an undeniable sharpness. "He has done nothing wrong."

Cersei trembled with fury, but she did not pull away. Instead, she tore herself from Jaime’s grasp and stormed from the room without another word.

Silence settled awkwardly between them. The wet nurse hastily returned into the room to sooth the crying Tyrion, rocking him gently in her arms.

Elia exhaled, shaking her head. "I did not think Lord Tywin would allow such cruelty in his house, but I see now that grief can fester in many ways."

Y/N sighed, rubbing her arms as she turned to the Martell siblings. "I apologise sincerely for the way she acted... Cersei, she... She hasn’t been the same since Lady Joanna passed."

"Grief does not excuse cruelty, little rose." Oberyn countered, tilting his head at her. "Though I believe you already know that."

Jaime scowled but said nothing, his jaw tight with emotion. Then, as if the moment had never happened, Oberyn grinned. "Let us not dwell on sadness. I did not come all this way to be scolded by a child who thinks herself queen already."

Y/N blinked, startled by his sudden shift in tone and the boldness of his speech. "Our mother was friends with Lady Joanna, you know." Elia offered, her expression softening. "She had hopes that Oberyn would one day wed Cersei."

Jaime’s brows furrowed. "And now?"

Elia’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Now your Lord Father refuses to even entertain the idea. He says Cersei will only wed a king." Y/N frowned.

"But..." Oberyn cut in with a venomous smirk "He did have a counteroffer."

Elia rolled her eyes. "He suggested I wed your little brother."

Jaime stiffened, and Y/N’s mouth fell open in horror. "Tyrion?" they both gasped in shock.

Elia nodded. "As an insult, no doubt."

"And here I thought Tywin Lannister was known for his tact." Oberyn mused, shaking his head.

Jaime bristled, insulted by the free way the two siblings were talking. "You don’t have to accept it."

"Oh, we would never." Elia assured him with a tired smile.

Oberyn, however, had turned his gaze back to Y/N, his smirk growing playful. "But perhaps I was meant to marry the beautiful rose, not the feisty lioness, after all." he purred, stepping closer to her. "You seem far more interesting than your golden-haired friend; Mother told me only praises of you - The Queen of Thorns raised quite the beauty. "

Y/N’s eyes widened, being rendered speechless, as Jaime immediately stepped between them, scowling. "Don’t be foolish, Martell." Jaime snapped. "She is betrothed to me."

"A tragedy, surely." Oberyn sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart. "But not one without its delights — I do enjoy a challenge."

Y/N flushed brightly at the Dornish Prince's boldness, as Jaime sneered further; Elia only laughed. "Do not let him tease you." she told Y/N warmly, taking her hand in hers. "My brother is reckless, but he means well."

Y/N smiled hesitantly. "I shall keep that in mind. Thank you, Princess." she replied, trying not to look at the way Jaime’s hand twitched at his side. For some reason, Elia's hand holding hers made her feel... Warm. It was a special kind of safeness and joy that she only had when playing around with her own sisters. How strange, feeling that with a girl she has only just met.

Oberyn winked. "Good. That makes it all the more fun."

Elia thought her brother was only hell-bent on humiliating the Lannisters, though the little rose proved to be his main source of interest. Was her brother actually interested in a girl to marry, for once? Usually he wasn't so delicate with girls he wanted to charm the skirts off. That night, the two Martell siblings chatted away until they fell asleep - How happy Oberyn was that he no longer had to marry such an awful girl - The mere thought of having to marry Cersei Lannister had him want to drown himself in the Water Gardens.

The two were very close with one another, and hoped to remain that way forever, sharing gossips and indulging in fun adventures together - One of them, of course, being the Tyrell rose - She was such a lovely girl, and so sweet once she actually started speaking to them; No more shyness as before, Y/N was giggling and laughing away with Elia and Oberyn at the feast, indulging in red wine like never before. Both Jaime and Cersei were shocked to see her like that - So free, so easy-going and haughty - She blended in with the two Dornish siblings almost perfectly; No wonder Highgarden and Dorne were so close to one another, the South was so lax and free of rules and regulations.

Y/N sat in front of Elia and Oberyn, between the two Lannister twins, sharing laughter and conversation, while Jaime sat strangely quiet and awkward; Cersei, meanwhile, was very clearly displeased, scowling over her goblet of wine as she watched her only friend bond with Elia in ways that the two of them never did before. What did that Dornish whore have that she didn't? She had black hair and black eyes, and looked average at best - And she wasn't the least bit interesting or special. Elia Martell wasn't a lioness like her - So why was she so much more interesting to Y/N than her?

"And then I met Baelor Hightower - He was a very nice young man - Or at least, that's what I thought. Half in love with him; Very gallant and sweet... That is..." both siblings bent over the table to speak in a hushed tone.

"He farted!" they said in union, making the three of them loud loudly and very peasantly.

"No way! Really?!" Y/N couldn't believe her ears. "That is horrible!"

"Now he is Ser Baelor Breakwind." Oberyn said confidently, making the girl double over laughing.

"I could not look at him anymore without laughing - Poor man!" Elia was crying tears of laughter.

"That sounds hilarious - Truly!" Y/N entertained them so; Jaime tried to laugh a little, but felt ashamed, whereas Cersei continued to drink herself into a jealous drunkness; Why did Y/N never laugh like that around her? Was she not as funny as that ugly peasant girl?

"I must say, Y/N, you remind me so much of home." Elia mused with a warm smile. "We do not often have guests who understand the importance of good company and gossip. All these serious men, always talking of battles and honor."

"Exactly!" Y/N agreed eagerly. "They act as if laughing and enjoying oneself is some kind of crime. But truly, they just don’t know how to have fun."

Elia chuckled, while Oberyn smirked. "That, little flower, is where I come in." he said smoothly, pouring more wine into Y/N’s cup before she could protest. "I am an expert in fun. I could teach you, if you’d like."

Y/N raised a brow at him, amused. "And what exactly would you teach me, my prince?"

"How to live, of course!" Oberyn said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "You are too young to be caged in a place like this, burdened with duty. In Dorne, you would be free. No one would make you wed against your will. You would never have to birth heirs if you did not wish to. You could ride where you please, dance when you like, and no one would dare tell you otherwise."

Jaime made a face, finally speaking. "That’s easy to say when you’re not the heir to anything important. Just a second son meant to inherit nothing."

Oberyn laughed, unbothered. "Exactly, little foolish lion. That is the very best part." He turned back to Y/N, eyes twinkling. "I am not the Prince of Dorne, I am merely a prince of Dorne. That means I may do as I please. And if you were to come with me, so would you."

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. "You make it sound so tempting."

"That is because it is." he said, lifting his goblet to his lips, watching the beauty before him with his sparkling gem eyes.

Jaime clenched his jaw, while Cersei rolled her eyes. "You do realize she is to marry Jaime, don’t you?" Cersei said, her voice dripping with smugness. "She is betrothed to my twin. You may flirt all you like, but Y/N belongs to House Lannister. Not Dorne."

Oberyn didn’t even bat an eye. "Is that so?" he mused. He turned to Y/N, a teasing smile on his lips. "And tell me, my lady — Do you wish to belong to House Lannister?"

Y/N hesitated, and said nothing. Suddenly, the fun vanished, and she was placed behind two rocks that could kill her. She glanced at Jaime, who looked more sullen than anything, before shifting her gaze to Cersei — Who very much expected her to say yes.

Y/N sighed, placing down her goblet, sobering up. "My name is Y/N Tyrell, The Rose of the Realm, Lady of House Tyrell of Highgarden, daughter of the Warden of the South, protector of the Reach." she spoke, earning a widening grin from the Prince, who realised just what she was saying - She is her own master, and no one can own her.

"Then take a vacation - Come to Dorne." Oberyn said, resting his chin in his hand as he watched her with loving eyes, completely enamoured by her. "I shall steal you away, and we will see what adventures await you beyond these dull stone halls."

"You cannot steal what is already mine!" Cersei snapped, glaring and slamming her empty goblet on the table.

Oberyn laughed. "Yours? How curious. I see no collar around her neck."

Jaime scowled. "She’s not going anywhere."

"We shall see, little lion. Duty can only get you so far - Dissatisfaction gets you even farther." Oberyn mused, twirling his goblet between his fingers before looking back at Y/N. "If ever you find yourself longing for happiness and warmth, remember — Dorne is always warm, the Water Gardens are always open, and I will always be happy to escort you there myself."

Y/N bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. The thought of walking hand in hand with Oberyn and Elia, and having fun in the Water Gardens actually sounded fantastic. Elia giggled beside her. "You truly are shameless, brother." she said. "Though, I agree - Y/N, I would love it if you visited us someday. We could have so much fun."

"Oh, dear sister, that is not even the half of it." Oberyn winked.

Jaime scowled, Cersei fumed, and Y/N found herself laughing despite it all. It seemed Oberyn Martell had a way of making everything more interesting, the Tyrell girl thought to herself, somewhat blinded by the allure of freedom and hedonism, of a life filled with luxury yet none of the responsibility; The cries and death of Lady Joanna still haunted her, reverbing through every night terror she had;

But could she really forsake it all and run away, just for her own happiness?

The night was still, save for the whisper of the sea far below and the distant hoot of an owl. The candles in Y/N’s chamber had long since burned low, leaving only the glow of the moon spilling through her open balcony doors, along with her restless thoughts and the pain in her heart.

Why was choosing so difficult, she thought to herself, absent-mindedly staring at the ceiling. She wasn't truly betrothed to Jaime, they were far too young, of course - However, her mother and Jaime's mother were good friends, and alliance between their two houses was an outstanding power; Of course, the fact that the two of them got along so well was simply a coincidence, though a much pleasant one.

Yet there she is, racking her brains over a choice - And it wasn't just the illusion of choice that most people lament over - It was a true choice handed to her.

She met Jaime when they were so young, and they got along so well; He was so just and gallant, a true knight in the making, and Y/N was sure he will end up growing into such a strong and righteous man who would treat her right and protect her from any woe...

And then, there was Oberyn Martell, the half-mad Prince of Dorne; Already a young man, older and more experienced than her in both life and romance; He was insane enough to steal her away from the Rock and make her his Princess, lavish her with jewels and flowers and ride together into adventures... Possibly even indulge in hedonism and lust that would make even the most experienced whore ge flustered and blush... And for the first time in her life, Y/N felt excitement in her heart, and restlessness, as if her feet were burning to run with no shoes down the grassy field, so fast that she would end up flying like a cageless bird.

She was so... Bored to death, being the perfect little flower, here in the cold Westerlands; She wanted to go back home in the reach and ride with her sisters and hunt with her brother, to recite poems dramatically and play with her falcon... She wanted to decipher riddles with her mother, and dance and sing with the commonfolk surrounded by flowers of all kinds...

She hadn't realised how much she missed home, until Elia and Oberyn came into her life, reminding her of the sweet memories lingering in her heart, tugging at the strings and shrieking at her to return to her origins, down South where it was warmer and more welcoming.

"Truly, little rose, you ought to lock your doors." a familiar voice was followed by a thud and Y/N's imminent yet adorable squeak of surprise. "Unless, of course, you had been waiting for me, and to that, I would have to apologise for my tardiness. It is unbecoming of me to make such a lovely lady wait."

Y/N turned sharply, only to find Oberyn Martell perched upon her balcony, balanced effortlessly on the rail as if he had all the time in the world. His grin was wicked, his eyes gleaming in the dark. Just like a viper ready to steal her away from this life.

"Ryn...!" she hissed, rushing forward, not sure whether to scold or shush him. "Are you mad? What if someone sees you being an absolute menace, sneaking into my room like that?" though she scolded him, her fingers dug hastily into his disheveled open shirt and pulled him into the room to safety, checking for injuries all over.

"Then they will think I have good taste. I have always been a fan of sweet perfumes." he said easily, holding her hands gingerly. "Come, I have come to steal you away for one last adventure before I must return to the red sands of home."

Y/N crossed her arms, playing defiant. "You think I will just climb out of my own chamber like a common thief? Do you not know it is unlady-like for one of my status - Betrothed, no less - To be roaming around with a bachelor like yourself, in the shroud of mystery and the veil of night?"

Oberyn bent at the waist and offering a suave yet provoking smirk. "Do you need me to carry you, then? Young ladies like yourself truly have high standards these days." she swatted at him with a bratty huff, but he only laughed, catching her wrist and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of it. "Do not make me beg, sweet girl." he murmured against her skin. "Come walk with me one last time, before I must leave you behind in this prison of stone and gold."

"What if I do want you to beg? Would you do that?" with an air of arrogance that clearly wasn't quite working (Oberyn found it quite funny, in fact, how coy she was playing, as opposed to the snobby Cersei and her unbecoming arrogance), Y/N looked away from the Martell prince, as if she wasn't even noticing his presence.

"Aye, but of course, for such a beauty -- " he gallantly went on one knee, holding her hand and kissing her fingers gently. "I would even beg on my knees for favour."

Y/N hesitated. But gods, how could she say no? The Dornish retinue was to leave back to Sunspear the following morning; That was the last time she would be seeing Oberyn in a long time, she was well aware... Denying his offer would make her regret her entire life...

Perhaps, just a little bit of naughtiness couldn't hurt, could it?

With a sigh, she grabbed a cloak from her chair and threw it over her shoulders. "You have earned my time, I suppose..." she cleared her throat as a way to hide the rosy hue of her cheeks.

Oberyn grinned before hopping back to his feet and picking Y/N up like a princess and sneaking through the quiet halls and down into the moonlit gardens, where the scent of roses and lavender filled the cool night air.

For a while, Oberyn didn't want to let Y/N down, and he walked like that just holding her in his arms, as if she was as light as a rose; Though he knew, something was awfully wrong, by the way she was so awfully silent and snuggling into the crook of his neck as if she was nothing more than a baby kitten.

"You are too quiet, little rose." Oberyn said, glancing at her. "What could be ailing that a lovely dove?"

Y/N exhaled. "I..." her voice was as sweet as a whisper. "I am afraid of the power of choice and consequence."

"Ah, thought so." he said, carefully placing her on the ground. "For someone who has lived a pre-determined life, a story already written, to be facing a crossroad with different destinations... Well, I do not envy you, sweet girl." he let out a dry chuckle. "At least you are wise enough to know you deserve better than to be shackled by duty."

"Duty is all I have ever known." she admitted. "And the love of my parents, who wish for me to live a happy life bound to a man who would care for me as if I was a porcelain doll."

Oberyn’s playful expression softened. "What great parents you have, sweet rose." he said, stepping in front of her and twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. "And between duty and love, what is it that truly terrifies you?"

She swallowed. "What terrifies me is the intersection between duty and love." she hesitated, her voice faltering.

Oberyn, ever perceptive, filled in the blanks. "You are afraid of childbirth." he murmured, watching with gentle eyes as Y/N looked away, her hands tightening in her cloak with great shame. "I know. Elia told me." he continued, his voice ever darling. "To be afraid, and to be unable to speak it out, in fear of snubbing and judgement. You are not the first, nor the last woman in such position - And once again, I do not envy your position." his rough hand was warm, caressing her delicate face. "Men are simple creatures - We get drunk, we get our cock buried deep in some pretty woman, and we run to war." he picked her chin, raising it up. "I do not claim to be a saint. I will not lie to you - I am as much of a whore as the girls in the brothel, except I don't get paid. I like women, and I like men, the same as I like to shed blood and kill. If you marry me, I will not promise you faithfulness, but I can promise you safety, luxury and understanding. I do not require children of you, nor will I ever." his other hand sneaked around her waist, pulling her closer to his body.

"Then why... Are you doing this...?" her voice was so soft that he almost didn't hear her; A good question - One which made him chuckle, looking down into those sparkling eyes of her, gleaming in the silver light of the moon.

"Not from the goodness of my heart, nor from selflessness, of course." he joked. "Not only did Elia like you very much - But you are also a beauty that has intrigued me so."

"Beauty is not what captivated you, Ryn." his smile widened.

"Not alone, true, though it paid a good part in it." he said. "Truth is, you are what Elia would have been, if she weren't so sick. Now, don't get me wrong, I haven't gotten smitten with you because you remind me of my sister - I am not those foolish lion cubs - But you are... Just like a little kitten, trying to look all cute and graceful, but you wouldn't pass up an opportunity to run around hunting mice and scratching the drapes to ribbons."

"Are you calling me a mischief, Ryn? My, how unbecoming of me - I have become haughty!" she tried to laugh it off, but it caused no effect.

Oberyn looked down at the girl, and his smile softened. "Your heart belongs to Jaime Lannister, doesn't it?" she remained silent as she averted her sight away from him. "Thought so. He is the dream of every little lady, isn't he? A gallant knight to take care of the fair lady."

Y/N looked at him then — Truly looked. The way the moonlight kissed his sun-bronzed skin, the way his dark hair framed his sharp features. He was beautiful, and he was tempting.

But her heart was torn.

"Jaime... He... He is not like Cersei." her breath was hitched in her throat. "He... Is very kind with me, and very sweet. He is genuine... And a little dumb sometimes, but not in a bad way. I mean... He is very... Innocent and pure. He is... Like a ray of sunshine. That's how I see him... And when he smiles... When he is happy, he... He is just so..."

Oberyn studied her for a long moment before letting out a small sigh. "What a lucky lad." he said. "I've heard enough, sweetling. No need to tease me more, I understand your heart better than you do." he said, pulling her closer. "Just know, if the lions ever forget their place, and you find yourself feeling all alone, that half of my bed shall remain empty only for you, and that I will marry no woman but you." hearing such a bold statement, Y/N tried to protest - Except, she was hushed instantly.

"And if I never do?" she asked, almost terrified to know the answer.

Oberyn’s fingers brushed her cheek. "Then I shall mourn the loss of my sweetest dream." she felt her heart clench, and gleaming crystal tears started stinging her eyes. "Now, now, sweet girl, don't cry over me - Instead, let me teach you one little trick that you can use on that fool, to see if he truly loves you."

"Wh-What...?" the girl stammered over her words, unable to understand his meaning.

"When you get bold enough to go for a kiss, do this --" he cupped her face carefully, making her look him in the eyes. "Look into his eyes, and see deep into his soul - Don't ask me to explain, you will understand when it happens - And then... Lean in slowly..." his lips captured her soft ones, as pink and soft as the petals of a flower, and sweeter than anyone he's ever tasted before. He was going crazy, his body felt hot and his hands wanted to grip her body and feel her skin; He was suffocating with love and lust all over. "... you will know."

He observed the small pants of her breath, and the sparkle of her eyes as she looked up at him as if she'd seen the Gods. He knew - And now, so did she.

"Yes." she breathed out. "I do know, now." and before she could stop herself, she reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, embroidered handkerchief. "Here..." she said, pressing it into his hand. "Something to remember me by."

Oberyn glanced down, fingers tracing over the intricate golden suns stitched into the soft fabric. His lips quirked, twitching into a smile. "Ah. You wound me, little flower — This will only make me miss you more."

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was as soft as it was fleeting. It was not a kiss of conquest, nor of demand. It was a kiss of promise. Of something unfinished. Of reunion, not of confession like the one before.

When he pulled away, he sighed. "Ah, if only I had met you first."

Y/N smiled, though her eyes were misty. "Goodbye, Oberyn."

He smirked, stepping back into the shadows. "Not forever, sweet girl. Just for now." and with that, he was gone, leaving her alone in the garden, clutching her lips, and wondering if fate was truly so cruel.

That night, she did not sleep - Instead, she pondered over his words - Now, she knows - Yes, she knows, Oberyn's feelings for her; She felt those through that kiss; He was genuine, he was true. And he, also, knows her feelings for him - Though, he knows her heart better than even she, and he knew, she loved Jaime, not him. How peculiar love is - An emotion she does not comprehend as well as she thought she did.

Perhaps that mattered little - The sweet dream will be over in the morn, and with it, so will the reverie. Oberyn and Elia will be back in Dorne, and Jaime will be going away from the Rock for his training as a squire; That meant Y/N was finally free to return home where she was happiest and safest, away from problems and responsibilities - And away from the love confusion she created for herself.

Tywin Lannister's ambitions remain big, and for Prince Viserys' birth, he hosted a tourney at Lannisport; Once again, Y/N and the twins were inseparable as they watched the jousting and cheered for the finest knights;

Of course, Cersei was completely head over heels in love, watching Prince Rhaegar Targaryen winning joust after joust, defeating the likes of Tywin's finest knights - And even the renowned Barristan the Bold! Everyone was cheering for the Young Dragon -- Only for him to lose to the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne - That is when Jaime started cheering the hardest; He worshiped Ser Dayne more than anything - And he wanted to become just like him.

Of course, the Crown Prince was then knighted, and Cersei couldn't stop babbling about her supposed future husband - Her aunt, Lady Genna, had told her their betrothal will be announced at the feast, and she was so excited to marry such a gorgeous and strong Prince!

Thoughts of Jaime were no longer in her head - Y/N can have Jaime, for all she cares - As long as she has Rhaegar Targaryen, she was happy;

That night, Cersei climbed into Y/N's bed, shaking her awake. "Don't you dare sleep, Y/N. I've got plans for us." she said, before dragging Y/N, along with her other two bedmaids, Melara and Jeyne, towards the forest, at the tent of the witch, Maggy the Frog.

The air was thick with the scent of damp moss and rotting leaves, the distant hoot of an owl cutting through the quiet as four cloaked figures slipped through the trees. The tourney grounds were far behind them now, the laughter of revelers and the clang of steel lost to the whispering night.

"We shouldn't have left the camp." one of the bedmaids muttered. "If we’re caught — "

"We won’t be caught." Cersei interrupted sharply. "Unless you keep whining and get us lost."

"Uh... Cersei...? Are you sure you know what you're doing...?" Y/N wasn't particularly afraid, rather, she was confused and uncomfortable at the idea of seeking fortune from an old crone. She was never superstitious, and she believed people forge their own fates - However, there was a little bit of a gnawing thought at the back of her head, screaming at her to run away.

"Don't be a craven, Y/N. We'll get your prophecy also. Now hush - Get inside." the lioness spat, shoving Y/N further.

Ahead, nestled between gnarled trees, was a crooked tent, its thatched roof sagging as though burdened by centuries of secrets. The only light came from within, flickering behind crude shutters. Y/N felt the chill before they even stepped inside.

Cersei was the first to push through the sheer leather door. A sickly-sweet aroma of herbs and decay clung to the air. Maggy the Frog expecting them.

Her skin was sallow, her lips shriveled, her eyes like frog slits in a face wrinkled and worn by time and warts. She was seated behind a battered table, three bowls of some dark, viscous liquid set before her.

The girl with the golden curls put her hands upon her hips. "Give us our foretelling, or I'll go to my Lord Father and have you whipped for insolence."

"Please..." begged Melara. "Just tell us our futures, then we'll go."

"Some are here who have no futures-" Maggy muttered in her terrible deep voice. She pulled her robe about her shoulders and beckoned the girls closer. "Come, if you will not go. Fools. Come, yes. I must taste your blood."

Melara paled, but not Cersei. A lioness does not fear a frog, no matter how old and ugly she might be. She should have gone, she should have listened, she should have run away. Instead she took the dagger Maggy offered her, and ran the twisted iron blade across the ball of her thumb. Then she did Melara too.

In the dim green tent, the blood seemed more black than red. Maggy's toothless mouth trembled at the sight of it. "Here..." she whispered. ".... give it here." when Cersei offered her hand, she sucked away the blood with gums as soft as a newborn babe's. Y/N looked with disgust, her body cringing away from the sight.

"Three questions may you ask." the crone said, once she'd had her drink. "You will not like my answers. Ask, or begone with you."

But Cersei was unrelenting and ever confident. "When will I wed the prince?" she asked.

"Never. You will wed the king."

Beneath her golden locks, the girl's face wrinkled up in puzzlement. Did that mean she will marry Prince Rhaegar after King Aerys died? Was he ill? Was that why her father and aunt told her about the betrothal so soon? "I will be queen, then?" asked the girl again.

"Aye." malice gleamed in Maggy's citrine yellow eyes. "Queen you shall be... Until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear." Y/N was sure she had heard that in some fable sung by a bard at a tavern. There was no way that was true, she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. Far too unspecific.

Anger flashed across Cersei's face. "If she tries I will have my brother kill her." wrathful as she was, she still had one more question due her, one more glimpse into her life to come. "Will the king and I have children?" she asked.

"Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you."

That made no sense to Cersei. Her thumb was throbbing where she'd cut it, and her blood was dripping on the carpet. How could that be? she wanted to ask, but she was done with her questions. She looked at Y/N, who looked back at her - She was just as confused, yet held a solemn look on her face. She must be sensing something amiss.

The old woman was not done with her, however. "Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds." she said. "And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you."

"What is a valonqar? Some monster?" the golden girl did not like that foretelling. "You're a liar and a warty frog and a smelly old savage, and I don't believe a word of what you say." Cersei huffed in anger, stomping her foot on the ground before grabbing Y/N's hand.

Y/N was silent, and she looked at her golden friend with a pondering look. "You got us all the way here to hear your future, but you are not happy with it." came her cold reply. "Granted, I agree with you - Everything the witch has foretold sounded like nothing more than the stories old nan used to tell us when we were nothing but babes. Fairy tales and bard songs for children who love dreaming. Nothing specific to you, nor something that could prove her craft." no, she was lying, and by the ugly grin on the witch's face, she knew she was found out. "Witch Maggy, my name is Y/N of house Tyrell. I shall give you blood, so in return, grant me three questions. Fair exchange?"

The old woman grinned disgustingly. "As fair as a deal can be, little rose." she tapped her fingers together with enthuse, watching the young lady cut her finger and offering her blood for her to lick off. "Mhh, sweet blood, like a flower's honey. Your answers might be more to your liking than your friends' over there." she let out a broken cackle. "Ask away, ask away."

"Here is an easy one - Like any lady, I am interested - Who will I marry?" Y/N stood tall, eyeing the old witch for her response. She knew best what was in her heart, what was in her life - Any bit of specifics, she will know.

The witch inhaled deeply. Then she exhaled a long, slow breath — One that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. "Two men shall claim your hand - A red viper, swift and deadly; A golden lion, valiant and proud" she foretold. "One shall dance under the red Sun, while the other will sing under the golden Moon." that... Sure was cryptic enough, Y/N thought to herself; It wasn't difficult to guess the two people involved, though the cause of it sure was mysterious.

"Will I have any children?" came her most feared question,

"Your womb shall be as the winter earth — cold, barren, untouched by spring. No babe shall suckle at your breast. No heir shall cry your name."

Her breath hitched. She wasn’t sure if it was relief or fear curling around her ribs. Y/N's hands trembled, along with her heart. Would a husband cast her aside for this? Would she be tossed away like a withered rose, unwanted and forgotten?

She felt Cersei’s fingers curl around her wrist, nails biting into her skin. Cersei was smiling, albeit, bitterly.

"Poor Y/N." she murmured, feigning pity. "No children for you. No little lions. No legacy." even better, Cersei thought to herself - If Jaime and Y/N don't have children, they can't have reason to return to the Rock and leave her alone in King's Landing.

She was pleased - And Y/N knew very well why. Cersei was never as smart as she was, nor did she listen to her father's words when he told her so. Pity.

"Why will I have to marry a second time?" came the last question.

"The viper shall topple over the mountain, yet perish beneath its weight." Y/N frowned at the thought of Oberyn dying, thought she couldn't comprehend why. "You, who shall free the lion of its shackles, shall lead the pride."

Cersei's hand squeezed Y/N's so hard that she thought it would shatter. "Go now, little flower." Maggy crooned. "And remember… All prophecy is a curse, for it binds those who seek to escape it."

"I get three questions too!" Melara's meek voice squeaked out, and when Cersei and Jeyne tugged upon her arm, she wriggled free and turned back to the crone. "Will I marry Jaime?" she blurted out.

You stupid girl, Cersei thought, angry at the idea - She could live with Jaime marrying Y/N, provided they stand by her side - But Melara? Jaime does not even know you are alive, you dumb broad. Jaime lives only for swords and dogs and horses... And for her and Y/N.

"No, you absolute idiot - Did you not hear? Jaime - My betrothed - Shall marry me." Y/N rolled her eyes at her idiocy; "If you want to marry Jaime, you first have to let him know you exist, you lowborn fool." it wasn't often that Y/N spat out such vile insults - It even surprised Cersei, who felt proud of her.

"B-But... I-I... I loved him...!" there were defiant tears in her eyes.

"Hush now, Mel, no need to get upset. There are plenty of pretty boys for our status." Jeyne tried to sooth her friend,

"Not Jaime, nor any other man." said Maggy. "Worms will have your maidenhead. Your death is here tonight, little one. Can you smell her breath? She is very close."

"The only breath we smell is yours." said Cersei. There was a jar of some thick potion by her elbow, sitting on a table. She snatched it up and threw it into the old woman's eyes.

Y/N stumbled back from, Cersei pulling her away, and they ran away into the cold night air, followed by Melara and Jeyne. Once they got back to the retinue, Jeyne sneaked back to her chambers, pretending she never even knew the existence of a witch.

Melara, however... Wasn't as lucky.

"What gives you the right to marry Jaime, and not me?" the poor idiot dared to speak back to Y/N, making both the flower and the lioness look back at her with terrifying eyes. "I love Jaime - Truly, I do! More than you ever will!" her declaration was bold and false. "You just marry him for wealth and status - Besides - What good are you to the future heir of Casterly Rock when you are a failure as a woman and cannot birth him heirs?!"

"It would serve you well to shut your mouth, Melara. If my Lord Father hears about the treason you are spewing, he would sear your tongue off himself." Y/N wasn't expecting Cersei, of all people, to side with her - But in a morbid way, she was enjoying it. "Besides, my brother loves Y/N - Everyone knows that. There is no competition - Especially not from some peasant girl like you. You should count your blessings that we even know your name at all. Clearly you don't deserve even that much grace."

"You are a vile, manipulative, evil liar!" Melara shouted, backing away in tears. "You don't speak for Jaime! I want to hear it from his mouth, not yours! He is gallant and just and fair - Unlike you two!"

"Melara." Y/N stepped forward with such morbid elegance that it resembled a ghost. Melara's blood froze in her veins and was unable to stop Tyrell's hands from wrapping around her neck. "Can you smell the stench of death?" she asked, pushing her backwards, towards the well. "Because you reek of it."

"LET ME GO! HELP, SOMEBODY---"

But it was too late; Once Cersei leaped to help her friend, she slapped her hand over Melara's hand and together, they pushed her down her well, to her doom.

"At least we know the witch was right about one prophecy." Y/N grumbled, dusting herself off. "I guess this remains our little secret." she said, offering the lioness her pinky finger.

"It has always been the two of us, Y/N. In duty and in joy." the lioness smiled, hooking her pinky to her friend's. With this crime committed, they were ever closer - Closer than they've ever been before - Closer than that Dornish whore would ever hope to be to her best and only friend.

And thus, they shared a secret that will be their forever, until the dawn of time - Though Y/N refused to tell Cersei she knew the meaning of the word 'valonqar' ; She didn't want to make her hate poor Tyrion even more than she already did, though she was sure it was inevitable, with how she blamed Joanna's death on him. She shall never change.

Before long, Jaime was no longer a squire, but a knight, sered by no other than Ser Arthur Dayne himself - His greatest honour, he must be so proud, Y/N thought to herself with immense joy, as she waited his return in King's Landing; By now, Y/N had also remained in King's Landing to be Elia Martel's lady in waiting as she married Prince Rhaegar, much to Cersei's dismay, having to live three years in the castle, only the watch the man you fell in love with, marry and sire children with the Dornish whore who wanted to steal both her brother and her best friend.

She deserved to die, like sickly ugly thing.

Alas, that idiot, Y/N, was taking good care of her, even after the birth of their first child, Princess Rhaenys. What an ugly, squalling thing. HER children would never be that disgusting and loud.

Cersei was livid - She felt invisible to even her only friend, as though she did not matter anymore. How could she not? She was Cersei Lannister - There was no way that sand bitch was better than her. She deserved to die. She deserved to perish in a most brutal and torturous way.

Y/N was hers. ONLY hers. And so do Jaime and Rhaegar.

All three of them shall be hers, one way or another, even if she had to topple over the mountains and drain the oceans.

Thus came her brilliant idea - When Jaime was to return to King's Landing, they would meet up at an old inn, and she would bewitch him into a scheme; A most clever scheme, of which even her father would be proud - A scheme that would ensure both Y/N and Jaime remain by her side forever and ever and ever.

aime found Cersei waiting for him in the high tower, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Her beauty was sharper than a blade, her smile as knowing as a cat’s. She had summoned him, and as always, he came.

"Jaime." she murmured, stepping closer, her fingers trailing up his arm. "You are finally the knight you've always dreamt to be. Congratulations to you." she said, drawing closer to him. "You must be happy - Thrilled, even. Thrilled enough to spend the night with your fair lady, perhaps?" she purred into his ear. "Or... You would rather have me, the one who loves you most in this world? The one to whom your soul is bound for life and death?"

"I..." Jaime blinked, his head hung, feeling a little dazed. "I wanted to tell Y/N. She's been waiting for me all this time. I want to make her proud - To make her happy. She's encouraged and supported me so long... I..."

Cersei’s lips pressed together, displeasure flashing in her green eyes. But she smoothed it away, tilting her head as if in sympathy.

"Then you are happy with the marriage?" she asked. "To be tied to her? To live your days as Lord of Casterly Rock, ruling, scheming, passing dull judgments while your wife bears you children embroiders handkerchiefs?"

Jaime hesitated. When she put it like that... Being a Lord did not sound quite as exciting as he thought it would... But he had so much fun with Y/N as a child - Life with her couldn't ever be dull... Right?

"That’s not what you dreamed of, is it?" she pressed, her voice a whisper now, close enough that he could smell the perfume on her skin — Flowers and oils, intoxicating. "You wanted to be a knight. A true knight."

Jaime swallowed. "I am a knight."

"Are you?" she breathed. "Not yet. Not like Ser Arthur Dayne, not like Ser Barristan Selmy. Their names will be sung for a thousand years. Will yours?" Jaime stiffened, the words cutting deeper than he expected.

"You have always wanted to be like them - And Y/N knows this. She's a good girl. She will understand. You are a golden lion like no other - You were made for glory and fame." she continued, stroking his cheek, peppering him with poison kisses. "And now you can. You are already the youngest knight in the realm, but imagine—" she smiled, and gods, how beautiful she was when she smiled. "—if you became the youngest Kingsguard in history."

His breath caught. "You could stand beside the greatest knights in the realm, your greatest deeds written in that stupid book they have for the Kingsguard members." she murmured. "Ride with them, fight with them, be one of them. And when people speak of the Kingsguard, they will not just name Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy. They will name you, Jaime Lannister, the Lion of the Rock, the youngest ever knight to be cloaked in white."

The thought sent a thrill through him. "And best of all..." Cersei continued. "You will be at my side, always. Protecting me, watching over me. No matter who I wed, we will be together in King’s Landing. The same goes for your sweet Y/N - She won't leave that bitch's side any time soon; She will remain here, in King's Landing all the same. You can bed her from time to time, whenever you miss her. Surely, she misses you by now."

Jaime looked away, his jaw tightening. "Or..." she purred, stepping around him, her fingers gliding over his chest. "You could move to Casterly Rock, all alone and away from the battlefield; Watch Y/N wed you in duty, not love. Watch her bear your children, but keep her heart locked away, because it is no longer yours."

Jaime frowned. "What are you saying?" there was no way -- The Y/N he knew held his heart, and he held hers.

Cersei’s lips curled in mock sympathy. "Oh, Jaime, you don’t see it? Oberyn Martell stole her heart the moment he laid eyes on her." she leaned in, whispering. "Do you remember that day, when the retinue came to our home? Did you forget the way she smiled at him? How she blushed under his gaze? How easily they spoke, laughed, like they had known each other all their lives?"

Jaime’s stomach twisted. "Do you think she would have embroidered a handkerchief for you?" Cersei murmured, tilting her head. "She gave him something to remember her by. She let him kiss her. And now he’s gone, off to Dorne, taking a piece of her with him." she continued with her vile tongue. "Did you know - Whenever that Dornish snake comes to visit his sand whore of a sister, he always spends the night in Y/N's chambers?"

Jaime clenched his fists. "But it doesn’t have to matter." Cersei said, drawing his face to hers. "Because you have me - And I would never betray you. We are twins, after all, are we not? If we cannot trust each other - Than who can we trust?"

Her lips hovered close — Too close.

"Father knows of the Martel Prince and Y/N; I heard him speaking to the Tully Lord about changing your betrothal to Lysa Tully - That oversized fat cow, remember? You don't want that, do you?" Jaime's look was that of sheer and utter disgust. "Come to King’s Landing, Jaime. Join the Kingsguard. Take the white cloak, become the knight you always dreamed of. And at night, when the castle sleeps, you will find your way to me, and I will be yours, as I have always been. Let father have his legacy. Let Y/N pine for the Dornish Prince..." Cersei rose her skirts and undid his breeches, sitting on his lap. "... or fuck the Dorne out of her mind. It is all the same. The three of us - We belong together; She's just lost her way, surely... I have heard those Martels have magic blood - They must have bewitched poor Y/N. We must bring her back to us, show her the way. She is one of us. We cannot lose her."

Her fingers curled into his hair, tugging gently. "The three of us belong together. That is the only truth that matters." Jaime closed his eyes, torn between reason and desire. Between honor and love. "Join the Kingsguard, and you can have it all." Cersei eased into him, and the young knight lost all reason.

"I shall join the Kingsguard."

But that was a decision he had to talk with his betrothed; In secret, he visited Y/N's chambers, late at night. Sneaking out, they go into the gardens, away from prying eyes - Though Y/N, most of all, is well aware of the whispers and gossips of the palace. Nowhere was safe.

The night air was thick with the scent of lemon trees and jasmine, the gardens of the Red Keep bathed in the silver light of the moon. The hum of crickets filled the silence, a peaceful contrast to the endless courtly games within the castle walls.

Y/N wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she stepped cautiously over the cobbled path. A warm hand caught hers, steadying her. "Careful." Jaime murmured, his voice quiet yet filled with familiar warmth.

She smiled softly up at him, her fingers curling against his palm before she let go. "You’ve changed." she observed, tilting her head. "You stand taller, prouder." she beamed at him. "You have become a true man."

Jaime grinned, glancing down at his freshly knighted hands, as though seeing them for the first time. "Ser Arthur Dayne knighted me himself." he admitted, voice laced with pride. "I want to be like him, Y/N. A true knight, one whose name will be remembered long after I am gone."

"The Sword of the Morning himself. What an honour." there was something bright in his gaze, something fierce and determined, but beneath it lay a quiet doubt. A hesitation he had yet to voice.

Y/N turned toward him fully, taking in the golden-haired boy who had been her closest friend since childhood. "You always wanted to be a knight." she said softly. "And now you are one." yet his nervousness was clear to the girl. "... A knighthood isn't enough for you, is it? You want more." Jaime's eyes widened in shock, and he looked away towards the walls of the Red Keep - Looming, suffocating. "You want to join the Kingsguard, don't you?"

The words sent a pang through his chest. "How did you know?"

"I have suspected that for a few years now, to be fair." she smiled sweetly at him. "You are brave and just, just like Ser Barristan the Bold and Ser Arthur Dayne - Both of which belong to the Kingsguard. The finest knights of the realm - The protectors of the people."

"You think... I am like them?" the golden lion had an almost boyish wonder in his eyes, flattered yet almost afraid to inquire for more.

"Ever since I have known you, yes, I have thought you were going to become a knight worthy of the greatest stories..." Y/N looked down with a sad smile. "Even if that meant you could never hold love for me, the same way I love you."

"Y/N..." he whispered out her name, his arms shooting up instinctually to hold her, but then he stopped abruptly. "I... I am sorry, I... I just..."

"That's alright. I understand." Y/N offered him a smile - It looked bittersweet and heartbroken. "I have been trying to come to peace with the idea for a while now. I did not expect you would be knighted so soon, truly - I thought I would still have your love for a few more years, maybe even marry first before you got to make that decision..." he remained quiet, frozen in place. "Alas..."

"Forgive me." he whispered. "I truly love you, Y/N." he confessed. "I love you with all my heart - I swear I do - I really do. You mean everything to me, I---"

"Hush now. You are a man, you must not fumble over your words like that." Y/N let out an amused breath. "Don't worry about me. Worry about your father. He will go mad when he hears your decision."

"Well... I suppose..." he gulped, looking down.

"Your sister must be happy. She will have you by her side all the time. Protecting her." Jaime looked at her, as if caught with a lie.

"I... Don't know what to say..." he admitted shamefully. "You... Are right. Both times, you are right." and she was right in silently deducing it was Cersei's ploy all the same, he realised.

Y/N was silent for a moment. She inhaled deeply, steadying her thoughts, her heart. There was a time when she believed her life and Jaime’s would be forever entwined, that they would grow old together, ruling over Casterly Rock - That future was fading like a dying ember. Just like Maggy the Frog said.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

"If this is what you truly want, Jaime." she said, her voice a whisper, "Then I will always stand by you and support you every step of the way."

Jaime’s breath hitched, his gaze snapping to hers. "You will?" he asked, bewildered by her loving tone. He thought she would be mad, hysterical, sobbing - But... Her reaction... Hurt him even more. She was as kind and loving with him as he remembers... What has he done?

"Of course." She smiled, warm and steady, despite the ache in her heart. "No matter where you go, no matter what you choose, my heart will always be yours. Even if we are not bound by marriage, even if our paths diverge. I will love you all the same."

Jaime blinked, as though trying to process the weight of her words. "Y/N…" His voice was unsteady.

"You are kind, Jaime." she continued, her eyes soft as she traced his features. "You are brave, and righteous, and good. You are a knight in the truest sense of the word, and I am proud of you." she held his hands, squeezing them dearly. "Do not let the world change who you are, my love."

Jaime exhaled sharply, almost as if the praise pained him. His fingers curled around hers, holding on as though she was an anchor in the storm of his thoughts. For so long, he had been told he was nothing without Cersei, that no one else would love him the way she did. But here was Y/N, looking at him with unwavering warmth, with admiration that was not manipulative, nor possessive. Just genuine, pure devotion.

"You deserve happiness, Jaime." she whispered. "And if this is what makes you happy, then I will not stand in your way."

Jaime opened his mouth, but no words came. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, Cersei’s voice echoed—"She loves Oberyn. She has already chosen another."

But looking at Y/N now, standing before him with all the tenderness in the world, he knew — Cersei had lied. All this time, she had lied.

Jaime swallowed thickly, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening, unable to let go.

"I should return." she said softly. "Elia will wonder where I am." Jaime nodded stiffly. "Before I go - May I ask for one single favour?"

"O-Of course. Anything for you." he declared whole-heartedly.

She reacher her finger up, brushing away a stray tear from his emerald eye. "Do not cry, Jaime Lannister - It was your decision. Do not regret it now." she said with a playful smile. "I will teach you a little trick - To see if someone truly loves you." she giggled, remembering her late-night lesson.

"Wh-What...?" the boy stammered over his words, unable to understand his meaning.

"When you get bold enough to go for a kiss, do this --" she cupped her face carefully, making him look her in the eyes. "Look into her eyes, and see deep into her soul - Don't ask me to explain, you will understand when it happens - And then... Lean in slowly..." her soft lips captured his chapped ones, rough and broken by the wind, yet sweet and plump like no other. She was going crazy, her body felt hot and her hands wanted to grip his body and feel his skin; She was suffocating with love and lust all over. "... you will know."

Y/N observed the small pants of his breath, and the sparkle of his eyes as he looked down at her as if he'd seen the Gods. Shee knew - And now, so did he.

"Yes..." he breathed out. "I do know, now." realisation blasted him like a brick in the head, striking his heart with a crossbow arrow - That kiss meant to him more than what he and Cersei had shared just a few hours previous. The lies she told him, just to keep him closer to her... Was it all worth it? Was it worth giving away Y/N's sweet love, for honour and fame and glory, and his twin's bed?

Y/N reached into her cloak and pulled out a small, embroidered handkerchief. "Here..." she said, pressing it into his hand. "Something to remember me by." it was embroidered with a golden lion among flowers, the same handkerchief she made years ago as she was watching him spar. She only worked on that when he was sparring, he remembers. He truly can't believe she held onto that...

"I shall be seeing you around, Jaime. I am wishing you only the best in the world." she turned around, pulling her hood on. "I love you." and she faded into the darkness.

As he stood there, alone in the gardens, he felt a hollow ache settle deep within him. For the first time, he wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.

Cersei's plan, however, did not go as smoothly as she'd hoped, for Tywin Lannister saw Jaime joining the Kingsguard a slight from the King against him - First, he refused having Jaime as a squire and Cersei and the Crown Prince's Consort, and now, he wants to take away his own heir; Cersei was taken back to the Rock, while Jaime was all alone in King's Landing... All alone, with Y/N. All alone, to witness the madness that everyone was whispering about.

The Madness of King Aerys Targaryen, second of his name.

He witness the King growing more paranoid by the minute, suspecting his own servants, his own family of treason; He had honorable knights and lords killed with Wildfire right in front of him, and Jaime's heart shattered with each of them. He became disillusioned, broken and disappointed - This wasn't what he wanted to become - Protector of a mad man who massacred the people he was supposed to rule over.

There was only so much he could 'Go away inside', as Ser Gerold Hightower taught him, and in turn, he also would teach others; And when he witnessed the unfair executions of both Lord Rickard Stark and his heir, Brandon, he felt goosebumps all over his skin, and bile coming into his mouth.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Yet in spite of all this, what hurt the most was not the lost promise of a legacy, nor the fact that Cersei was no longer with him, or that the King chose him not for his skill, but to spite his father --

No.

What hurt the most was seeing how terrified Y/N was every day of her life.

He had to guard outside the chamber whenever the King would want to bed the Queen - And Y/N, also, would await just outside, to tend to the Queen afterwards; Each time, she would tremble more, would cry more, would melt and wither away... And he felt all the same.

Hearing the cries of agony coming from Queen Rhaella as she was bitten and mauled and clawed by her own husband during what should have been a most sweet and intimate act between two lovers...

Seeing Y/N in such a state hurt his heart, but hearing her describe the Queen's torture and the marks on her body, her suffering, at the hands of her own husband... It hurt just as much.

"We are the Kingsguard - We protect the Realm, the people... That includes the Queen also, doesn't it?" he asked once - A pure and innocent question, that of a young lad, Ser Hightower said.

"Just 'Go away inside', young man. We swore a vow to protect the King, not to judge him. As much as it pains me to say, we have to protect the Queen, aye - But not from the King himself, we cannot." it wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't just. It wasn't how it was supposed to be.

No man should ever hurt his woman. No Lord should ever hurt his Lady. No King should ever hurt his Queen.

Y/N stood in the dimly lit hallway, supporting her weight by leaning on the cold stone walls just outside the Queen’s chambers. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt incense, masking the stench of blood and fear that lingered behind the great doors.

Jaime stood beside her, on the other side of the door, his newly polished armor gleaming in the torchlight, but his face was pale, his jaw clenched tight, trying to fade away into the old memory of a happy life - The dream of a happy future with Y/N - A future that he threw away down the river with his own two hands.

From inside, muffled cries echoed through the stone walls — Queen Rhaella’s cries was reverbring through the cold halls like a tidal wave meant to drown the castle.

Jaime’s hands curled into fists. He had seen battle. He had trained with the best knights in the realm. But this? This was something else entirely. He was not prepared for this kind of brutality, nor did he want to be. Not when he had a duty to protect, and he was unable to.

Y/N stood stiffly, her hands trembling at her sides, wrinkling her skirts. Jaime could see it now — Truly see it. The way she clenched her teeth to keep her lips from quivering. The way her breathing was shallow, controlled. The side of Y/N that he'd never imagined he would see - Y/N, terrified, petrified out of her wits. And she had every reason to be. She was there where the Starks were killed. She was there when the Queen was abused. She was there when so many were burnt alive. The horrors, the crimes, the atrocities committed by the King himself - She had seen them all, in the past years since she's been at the court.

"Y/N…" he whispered her name, making her flinch at the sound of his voice, her shoulders tensing before she slowly turned to him. Her eyes — Gods, her doe eyes — Were wide, filled with unspoken terror and pooling with tears threatening to fall. How pitiful, how terrible.

"It’s alright." he murmured, reaching for her hand without thinking. She took it, fingers cold as ice. "Just try to Go away inside. It's the only way I manage to cope."

The Queen’s cries grew louder. Jaime swallowed, his grip on Y/N’s hand tightening. He had always thought her brave - Oft times, braver than him, but now, he understood — Her bravery had never been the absence of fear. It had been enduring it, despite the horror.

And he hated it. He hated that she had to endure this. He wanted to promise her that she will be safe in his arms, that he would protect her from any danger, that everything will be alright...

Not for the first time, he questioned everything - The Kingsguard. The vows. The honor he had been taught to uphold. What good was a sword if it could not protect the ones who needed it most?

As Y/N trembled beside him, Jaime made yet another oath, though this one was personal, made by his heart - No matter what, he would protect her - Even if it meant breaking all the other vows he had taken before.

The door was slammed open, and the King exited the chambers - He looked at Jaime and Y/N and let out a disgusting snarl. "Hands off the maidens, Lannister - You swore a vow to keep your cock dry like the deserts of Dorne." he pushed the lion away from the girl. "And you - Do you revere me so much that you tear up at the mere sight of my excellency? Ha!" he aggressively grabbed her jaw, squeezing it tightly, his long claw-like nails digging into her soft cheeks. "If you want something, get on your knees and worship my cock, just like your ancestors did before, you little Tyrell whore." he let out a gargled cackle, before pushing her to the ground and walking away. "Tag along, Lannister - You have to guard me as I take a piss."

Angered beyond belief, Jaime was forced to peer his eyes away from the tearful Y/N who picked herself off the ground and forced herself to get inside the Queen's chambers to tend to her. Reluctantly, he followed the mad king, listening to his awful insults of poor Y/N and the disgusting things he'd do to her;

This man wasn't meant to be King - This man wasn't even a man anymore. He was an outright monster, the nightmare that old nan told them when they were little children. Vile, uncouth, unworthy scum.

As the Lannister Knight was forced to hear the mad man's rant for longer that night, Y/N swiftly returned to her chambers, all alone, and hiding under her blankets, sobbing her woes into the pillow. She only remained in King's Landing out of love for Elia, not wanting her to remain all alone, especially after how she almost died giving birth to her second child, Aegon.

The moon hung high over King's Landing, casting silver slants of light through the thin curtains of Y/N’s chambers. A single candle burned on her bedside table, its flickering flame barely keeping the darkness at bay.

But the darkness wasn’t just in the room. It was in her mind. It was in her chest. It was the suffocating weight of fear pressing down on her ribs, curling around her throat like unseen fingers.

She wailed into the void, her body trembling, her breath ragged, her hands tearing away at her gorgeous hair...

A soft creak at the window stopped it all.

She barely registered it until a warm hand touched her shoulder out of nowhere, making her jump in her skin, almost shrieking her lungs out - Only to have a hand placed over her mouth, and a body over her;

"Sweet dove, it is me." a hushed voice whispered into her ear, soothing enough to calm her panic down.

"R-Ryn..." she stammered out, after the man in cause slowly took away his hand. "D-Don't do that again... I-I thought... I-... Y-You..."

Oberyn’s voice was softer than she had ever heard it. His usual teasing bravado was absent, replaced by something raw. Something real. Pure worry for her.

Y/N looked up at him, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the candlelight. Her breath a panting pace, her eyes puffy and pink, and face wet, hair disheveled; All whilst he looked as flawless as ever, those black eyes of his warm and darling, burning with the flame of the dimming candle light.

"What happened?" he asked, shifting his body so he would be kneeling on the bed before her.

The dam inside her broke, and her arms were thrown around the man, clinging onto him tightly, pulling him back on the bed so she could sob her life away into his bare chest.

"The King-" she gasped between sobs. "The things he does, Ryn—you don’t understand. Every night, I hear her scream. The Queen—" She choked on her words, shaking her head violently. "No one does anything. No one can do anything." she continued her broken string of words. "I tend to her every night when he claims her - And Every night, the wounds, the scars, the bruises... Worse and worse..." she mewled pitifully, breaking his heart. "And tonight... He... He even threatened me... Again... Spoken such disgusting words..."

Oberyn’s jaw tightened. She could see the anger in his eyes, simmering, barely restrained, like burning coal in the fire.

"Elia is safe with that silver haired cunt." he assured her, voice firm. "The Prince would never let any harm come to her. He can do at least that much, especially now, after she birthed him an heir." he grumbled with spite. "Almost at the cost of her life, that is."

"For now." Y/N whispered a truth that was better left unspoken, her voice barely audible. "But if anything happened to Rhaegar—"

She didn’t finish. They both knew what would happen. The Mad King was a monster, and no one was safe from his wrath.

Oberyn lifted a hand, brushing away her tears with a touch so gentle it nearly undid her. "You don’t belong here, sweet rose. This place is rotting. It’s poison." she nodded, her throat too tight to speak. "I’ll take you away from here." he vowed. "The next time I return to King’s Landing, I will bring you to Dorne. I swear it on my life." he vowed, holding her closer to his chest. "I shall do what that imbecile couldn't do and marry you; Keep you away from danger, safe and sound."

"Ryn..." she whimpered, her fingers gripping tightly onto him. "Can you stay here for the night? Please?" she nestled into him. "I am terrified of being alone."

"Of course, my sweetling."

Oberyn's promise to her was the only thing keeping her together in the days that followed... But those days weren't long, and then the rumors started. The whispers spread like wildfire. The gossip was heard far and wide, spread by the spiders's web.

Prince Oberyn Martell had been seen sneaking into Lady Y/N Tyrell’s chambers. Every night, the guards had seen a shadow slipping through the halls. The court loved gossip, and there was no story more tantalizing than a Dornish prince seducing a noble lady under the Mad King’s nose.

And the Mad King loved to punish.

Soon enough, before his very nose, before he even realised, the sky was burning red.

Outside the Red Keep, the city was aflame. The Lannister banners had come, the gates had been opened, and Tywin Lannister’s troops poured into King’s Landing like a tide of crimson and gold.

The King thought they were his salvation - His most trusted, most loyal servant had come to defeat the rebellion; He didn’t know they were his doom; And thus, the King had enough time to pass judgement on his favourite subject, the defying maiden that kept bewitching the Queen;

The only thing Y/N could do was pray for a quick death or a miracle - She knew there was carnage outside those walls; In the throne room there was only herself, the King, and her beloved White Knight, staring at them, stunned and mind-blocked.

Aerys’ fingers were bruising her wrists, his breath hot and vile against her cheek.

"You think you can defy me in my own castle?" he seethed, his grip tightening as he slammed her against the cold stone of his chamber wall. "You and your Dornish filth — Whoring under my roof—"

"I didn’t—" Y/N sobbed, struggling against him. "I swear, my King—please—" if Jaime thought Y/N was sleeping with another, would he still protect her? Would he still feel the same for her, as he did before? Did he believe the rumours?

The Mad man laughed. A sharp, deranged sound. "Please?" he mocked. "You beg me, yet you spread your legs for theviper? You deserve to burn just like the rest of them—" his fingers clawed at her skirts, and a scream built in her throat.

... Then she collapsed to the floor like a discarded doll, with blood spilling and spraying all over her; A blade slid through flesh, followed by the sound of a thud.

She gasped, stumbling back, crawling away from the blood pooling around the corpse of what was once King Aerys II.

Jaime stood before her, his pristine armor splattered with red, the white cloak of the Kingsguard stained and tainted. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword, staring with horror at the blade, and seeing the reflection - His reflection - Bloody and afraid.

His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, gaze shifted away, and Y/N realized—

He wasn’t looking at the King. He was looking at her.

"Y/N." he whispered, voice breaking, before he immediately collapsed on the ground by her side, gathering her into his arms, shaking and sobbing as she was. "I’ve got you." he murmured, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. "You’re safe now. You’re safe." she clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his cloak, her body trembling violently. "It’s over. He cannot hurt you again. No one can." he promised, voice hoarse. "I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not ever again."

The King’s blood pooled around them, and Jaime held her as the world as they knew it burnt all around them.

When the doors were opened, Ned Stark was the first to see the horrific scene; Y/N was huddled away in a corned, Y/N had sat on the Iron Throne, his bloody blade over his knees, and looking into nothingness; What was he trying to prove? Kingslayer, that's what he was. A man with no honour, no shame, no morals.

Though Jaime was later pardoned for his sins, and retained his spot in the Kingsguard, to protect the next King - King Robert Baratheon, and his wife, Cersei Lannister - He found, much to his dismay, that Y/N wed Oberyn Martel and went to live with him in Dorne, never to return to King's Landing ever again.

He could not fault her - She held no happy memory of the capital, after all, and there was no joy that anyone here could bring her; He could not marry her, nor bring her comfort; She could have remained Cersei's lady in waiting, although, for how long, before she was forced to marry and fulfill her duty as a noble woman of her status.

Of course, the Queen was pissed - She demanded Y/N return to court - She wanted her friend back - That was the whole purpose of everything, to have Jaime and Y/N constantly by her side. But now, she lost her beautiful flower, what was she to do? There was only so much joy she could get out of sharing a bed with her brother - He still remained as foolish as always, caring only about swords and battles and all that nonsense. At least her and Y/N were bound by womanhood, by secrets, by so many traits they shared together.

Alas... That friendship was forever lost to time and destiny.

"A Wedding fit for a King, you said?" Lady Olenna Tyrell scoffed, looking away, though the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in a proud smile. "I almost do not recognise you, my child."

"That little atrocity is as much of a King as I am." Y/N huffed at her mother, slumping down on her chair unceremoniously. "No less, he is Cersei's bastard, with all the cruelty, and even less of a common sense than her." Oberyn chuckled light-heartedly, slumping down on the chair next to her, immediately reaching for the wine goblet. "I have already killed one Mad King - What is another?"

"Hush now, child, you did no such thing - It was the Kingslayer's blade, not your hand, which pierced the Mad King's belly." her mother scolded her, before straightening up. "The Sun of Dorne must have burnt your head, for you speak nonsense."

"Dear Lady, mother by law, are you not so proud of your little flower?" he played with a lock of her hair. "Hearing the news of her sweet niece's marriage - Second marriage - She jumped on the horse and tried to come here all the way, just to see her to safety." he mused with a sly smile. "Used to be she was so shy and passive - Now she grows hot headed, thirsting for blood and the safety of her kin."

"Fools, both of you." Olenna spat, though her eyes sparkled with motherly love. "Better feel blessed for your luck, not your heart or brain, for otherwise you would have still been lovesick over that fool who lusts over his sister's golden cunt - And what then would you have done? Killed your husband's bastards and live to tell the tale?"

"Instead, I would render us both lucky for marrying a man who got four chains at the Citadel just because he was bored out of his mind - Or, rather - A viper more proficient in poisons than any Maester in the land." the Queen of Thorns was quite fascinated by the way her daughter was speaking to her.

"And what, may I ask, is the price, then? Surely, the Red Viper of Dorne would not offer his aid out of the goodness of his heart." her eyes turned stern, looking at the Dornish prince.

"Could you perhaps be suggesting me cold-hearted when faced with my sweetling's distress? How cruel must you think me be, my dear lady mother by law." he did not seem the least bit offended. "Of course, my wish to exert vengeance on the Lannisters only adds to the thrill of fulfilling my darling's every wishes."

"Men are such fools - Only ever seeking the taste of honey in between a woman's legs." she rolled her eyes.

"I will have you know, the honey is very sweet - And so is the taste of revenge." Oberyn licked his lips sultry. "So why is there I hear you complain, when our goals have mutual finality?"

"He even has the venomous tongue of a viper." the old lady huffed, before smiling at her daughter. "Much better choice, I assure you." she said, referring to Jaime Lannister.

The scent of roses lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp aroma of Dornish wine that Oberyn swirled lazily in his goblet as they contemplated murder. A deadly collection of possibilities, carefully curated for the demise of a boy king who had lived far too long and was threatening the blooming of a flower..

Olenna tapped a delicate finger against the table, her sharp eyes narrowing at the selection before her. "The Strangler is effective, of course." she mused. "It tightens the throat, turns the face a lovely shade of purple… Quite dramatic, but too quick. A shame, really. I’d rather see him linger and wither on the ground like a pig."

Oberyn smirked. "You sound almost Dornish, Lady Olenna. In Dorne, we prefer a death to be… An experience. Something one does not simply slip away from, but feels with every agonizing breath."

Y/N tilted her head, glancing at her husband with a knowing smile. "Something slow, then. Something fitting for a boy who enjoys tormenting others — Wouldn't it be poetic justice if he suffered in turn?"

"Ah, my love, you understand me so well." Oberyn murmured, shaking his arm a little, only to reveal a small vial in between his fingers, which he fingered and played with idly. The liquid inside moved thickly, a deep, oily, murky green. "Basilisk blood."

Olenna raised a silvered brow. "I have heard tales of it - I had perhaps thought it to be simply that - A tale."

"It is a rare poison indeed - Legendary, in fact." Oberyn explained, watching the liquid slosh against the glass. "Derived from the fangs of the great lizards of the Isle of Tears, just off the northwest coast of Sothoryos. A single drop burns through a man’s veins, leaving him writhing in agony. His blood turns black, his flesh festers, and he screams until his throat is too raw to make another sound." He grinned. "Is that dramatic enough?"

Olenna took a slow sip of wine, considering. "Dramatic, certainly. But we are not simply making a statement, Prince Oberyn. We need precision. A public spectacle is well and good, but we must be certain the boy dies before anyone can suspect our hand in it." she declared. "I will be damned before I am forced to find that girl another husband - After all, who else but you has such renowned illicit knowledge?"

Y/N traced a finger over her own goblet, looking at the red wine with a pondering look. "The Bloodwyrm's Lament." she said, impressing her mother. "It forces painful convulsions, as well as heavy bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose."

"Clever." Olenna admitted. "And equally ruthless." she continued. "Plenty of ideas, yet which to use?"

Oberyn chuckled, setting down the basilisk blood. "We are at an impasse, I see? Then, perhaps, a blend?" he offered. "These beauties together could make for a fine crystal. Place it in any food or drink, and it shall be no more."

Y/N and Olenna both turned their eyes to him.

"Bloodwyrm's Lament for the initial pain, Basilisk Blood for the agony… and The Strangler to make certain he does not survive the ordeal." Oberyn spread his hands as if laying out a feast. "His body will convulse, his face will turn purple, his insides will rot as he chokes, and he will die knowing it was no simple accident, but a punishment crafted just for him - And we are all happy."

Y/N smirked. "Swift, but meaningful. Sweet revenge." she glanced at Olenna. "Perfectly balanced."

The Queen of Thorns hummed in approval. "And how do you propose we deliver this delightful crystal?"

Y/N leaned back, tapping her nail against her goblet. "The wine will be too closely watched - Not to mention, Margaery would be sharing a goblet with him. The main courses will be tested for poison. But the wedding pie…" she smiled. "The doves will be the main spectacle, as will the newly weds. No one will notice if something is slipped into the king’s slice before it reaches him."

"And who, my dear, will have the honor of delivering the final touch?" Olenna asked, her voice laced with amusement.

The Tyrell woman spoke carefully. "Sansa Stark." surprising both her daughter and her husband.

Oberyn lifted a brow. "The poor girl?" he asked in surprise. "How could you have possibly managed to persuade her?"

"I never said she is a knowing accomplice." the woman waved her hand. "Girls love jewellery. Craft the poison crystal into a hairnet, and she won't suspect a thing." she continued on. "Besides - I doubt she would be opposed to marrying the grandson that you crippled, Viper. She must be in a great hurry to leave the lion's cage."

"You call me a dangerous and hot-headed man, yet every drop of your blood schemes." Oberyn grinned mirthfully. "You got that cunning tongue of yours from your mother, I see!" he looked with a twinkle of mischief at his wife.

Olenna took another sip of her wine, eyes gleaming with something murderous. "A dangerous man needs an intelligent wife to keep him in check."

"And a dangerous woman needs a husband who will let her be dangerous." Oberyn countered smoothly, lifting his goblet in a mock toast. "To a wedding, then."

And thus the deed was done; Olenna Tyrell went with her whole retinue in King's Landing to lure the little wolf pup closer to her side, with dreams of willow blossoms and marriage - And as a gift, a hairnet adorned with lovely crystals, so that she would shine with joy, knowing she was one step closer to escaping the lions, and one step closer to becoming a flower in the Highgarden.

Whilst Oberyn and Ellaria enjoyed the brothel, Y/N joined her family - Of course, Margaery was as lovely as ever, and her mother as ruthless as always. Sansa even joined them on occasion, indulging in her favourite lemon cakes.

Yet not all his pleasure and glee in the pleasure house, as the Rains of Castamere was sung by some poor Lannister bastard, who dared interrupt the Dornishman's good time; Before long, the whores had left, and the fool had a dagger shoved through his hand, binding him to the table - And the only thing saving him was not his companion, but the arrival of the Imp, who remained speechless as his intensity... And his pure hatred for the Lannisters.

Martell took the Imp aside for a little walk, just the two of them, for a conversation with little to hide - A conversation that would terrify the little golden lion. "What are you doing in King's Landing, my Prince?"

"I was invited to the Wedding." he smiled simply. "My wife's niece is the bride - I wouldn't be a good husband if I did not join the retinue, would I?"

"I thought we were speaking truth." Tyrion spoke solemnly.

"The last time I was in the capital was many, many years ago, for another Wedding - My sister, Elia, married Rhaegar Targaryen, the last Dragon. My sister loved him, bore his children in her womb; Took care of them, waddled them, fed them at her breast - Didn't even allow the wet nurse to touch them." he continued, fidgeting a little. "My sweet wife was there by her side day and night, helping her." his smile was wide, filled with resentment. "And beautiful, noble Rhaegar Targaryen left her for another woman." he went on. "That started a war - And the war ended right here, when your father's army took the city."

"I wasn't there." Tyrion looked down, feeling guilt, in spite of him having no part played in the massacre.

"They butchered her children. My nephew and niece, carved them up and wrapped them in Lannister cloaks. And my sister - You know what they did to her?" he picked the imp's chin, raising it up to look him in the eyes. "I am asking you a question."

"I have heard rumours." Tyrion gulped, his heart pounding hard against his chest.

Oberyn's laugh was mirthless. "Yes, so have I." he said. "The one I keep hearing is Gregor Clegane, the Mountain, raped Elia and split her in two with his greatsword." Tyrion tried one more time to say he wasn't there, he had nothing to do with it - It was in vain. "But if the Mountain killed my sister, it was by your father's orders." his voice dropped a little in a humourless tone. "Tell your father I'm here. Tell him the Lannisters aren't the only ones who pay their debts." he let out a small huff. "Cheer up, little man - My wife would be thrilled to see how much you have grown since last she saw you -- Perhaps you should ask your dear brother and sister; They are sure to know what I am talking about."

Thus she returned to the brothel to retrieve his paramour and left to explore more of the city - Yet back to their room, there was no sight of Y/N; Surely, she must still be with her family, he thought - Or worse, she caught sight of that foolish Lion. What a pity, he thought to himself, however inevitable that conversation would be. Fifteen years or so passed since that day when Jaime Lannister drove his blade through King Aerys' body and rescued Y/N from being burnt alive - For that, Oberyn was thankful, yet for everything else, he was not.

"You're a Queen, not an ox." Olenna huffed, looking away from those ugly necklaces displayed nobly over the red velvet cushions, before she grasped one of them. "Your grandfather gifted me a necklace quite like this, at my one-and-fifty name day." she threw it off the balcony, grinning.

"My father never did have a good sense of fashion." Y/N giggled at her mother.

"My wedding is in a fortnight, grandmother, we cannot turn everything away." Margaery scolded her picky grandma, who simply smiled.

"Of course I can - And I will." she said sternly, before addressing the ladies in waiting. "My dears, go to the royal jewellers all over the capital - Tell them who you are, tell them who sent you - The one who brings me the best necklace will receive the second best." the girls grinned happily, before skipping away with excitement.

Y/N smiled sweetly, before receiving something from inside her sleeve. "Can I receive the best, if she likes this?" Margy gravitated to her aunty, her eyes wide and sparkling beautifully.

"It is gorgeous!" Margaery smiled brightly.

Y/N placed the necklace over the girl's cleavage. "And it also suits you - Do you agree, mother?"

"Takes a flower to know a flower." Olenna laughed, sitting back on her chair. "Yes, that's the one, I agree. Enjoy your gift, Y/N."

"I suppose I do not have to rely on Joffrey to place a string of dead sparrow heads around my neck." the young girl joked, making both her auntie and grandma scold her for speaking reckless.

Out of nowhere, a very tall and strong woman appeared, speaking very politely and diplomatic, introducing herself as Brienne of Tarth - She used to be Renly Baratheon's protector, that much Y/N heard from Loras, though she did not know that she beat Loras in jousting - That was a woman! Y/N giggled to herself, thinking about a young Brienne beating Jaime up. That would have been cute to see.

Margy delicately took her auntie's hand to follow her into the gardens, to hear what the blonde lady has to say about the night of Renly's assassination; The shadow of Stannis Baratheon killed him, she said - And though it sounded beyond fantastic, Oberyn told Y/N about the stories of the water witches Princess Nymeria brought to Dorne, and she knew of the blood mages of old Valyria - There was nothing to say such forbidden magic couldn't persist to these days.

"Auntie - Lady Brienne here bravely sought Ser Jaime Lannister to safety, after his imprisonment by the Starks." so that was why Margaery wanted her along. "Perhaps you might with to speak." she smiled sweetly, before returning to her grandmother.

"Is that so?" Y/N asked with a passive smile. "Hard to believe the proud lion would be needing aid. What happened?"

"My Lady, I..." Brienne looked down for a second, gathering her words. "Ser Jaime saved me when we were captured - He lied to preserve my maidenhead, though I could not save him from the cruel fate of having his hand chopped off." Y/N's eyes widened with shock, her hands flying to her mouth in disbelief. "Afterward, the lord of the castle we were brought to allowed Ser Jaime safe passage to King's Landing, but threw me in a bear pit with only a wooden sword and a dress. He jumped in the pit and fought the bear, yelling at the people to kill the bear, while he helped me get out of the pit." she placed her hand over her heart. "In spite of his reputation as a Kingslayer, his actions are honorable and righteous as that of a true knight."

"Thank you for saving him, Lady Brienne. For that, you have my eternal gratitude and thanks." spectacularly, Y/N embraced the tall lady, who was frozen in shock. "I do not want to imagine him dying." she said. "Though I cannot believe his heart has healed - May you take me to him?"

Brienne looked down at the smaller lady - She wondered what kind of delicate connection the two of them had - Still, she could not refuse her. "Of course, my lady. Right away."

Jaime sat in the dim candlelight of his chambers, his body draped lazily over a cushioned chair, though there was no comfort in his posture. His golden hair was unkempt, his features sharper, wearier, even after bathing thoroughly a few times since he's arrived. He idly flexed the fingers of his remaining hand, but it was the stump at his side that truly defined him now - The empty spot where once was his sword-hand.

From the corner of his eyes, he noticed a shadow passing the threshold, along with the soft squeak of the door. He lifted his head, expecting another visitor to come gawk at him. Instead, he saw the sweetest dream he's ever had, right before his very eyes - The one woman he never thought he would see again in this life.

"Y/N." he breathed, almost disbelieving. Was he dead, and dreaming? Was he in a reverie? He did not take Milk of the poppy, nor was he drunk... So why...? How was it possible?

She stepped closer, the warm glow of the candles illuminating her features. She was older now, more refined, yet still radiant in a way that made his chest ache. The woman that was so close to being his wife; The woman to whom he turned his back.

"Jaime." she whispered back, and in that moment, they were children again, playing in the gardens of Casterly Rock, before the world had turned cruel.

For a long moment, neither spoke. He drank in the sight of her, the softness of her gaze, the gentle concern that had never faded. She was the same as ages ago.

"I heard what happened to you." Y/N finally said, stepping closer. "Brienne told me everything."

Jaime chuckled, low and bitter. "I imagine she made me sound more noble than I deserve." he gestured at his missing hand. "I am not the gallant and righteous knight that you used to know, you see." he huffed. "Do you pity me?"

"No." she said firmly, stepping closer to him, close enough that he could see the way her lips trembled, the way her hands fidgeted as if she wished to reach out but did not want to overstep. "I only regret that I wasn’t there to save you."

"What could you have done?" Jaime asked, voice hoarse. "You weren't saving me from Father's scoldings; Those men were savages, traitors." he looked down at the ground. "If you were there... I would not have been able to save you."

"I could have at least held your other hand." she murmured.

Jaime inhaled sharply, looking away. She had always been like this — So effortlessly kind, so willing to love... And he… had been too blind to cherish it when he had the chance. There she was, standing ing in front of him, as bright and beautiful as the Maiden, and as loving and warm as the Mother... The one to whom he was truly bound by soul...

Yet there he was, bound and broken, shackled by the mistake he did ages ago, when he chose blood ties over his ration and heart. He allowed himself to be manipulated by dreams of honey and gold, when the true reverie was right under his eyes.

A fool, he has been... But now, returned to his home... He has seen what Cersei truly was; Bedding other men, snarking him, snubbing him, blaming him for not having escaped soon enough... Guilting him for leaving her alone, as if he was faring any better; As if he wanted to be taken prisoner by the Stark boy.

As if unworthy, Jaime raised his gaze, his sad eyes looking the lady up and down; She was wearing rich Dornish silks of the highest quality, and was adorned with jewels of which even he has not seen before. It did not take an intellectual to know the truth; She was happy. "Dorne treats you well, I see?" he asked after a moment, forcing himself to ask the question that had burned in him since the moment he saw her again. He couldn't speak his name - He wouldn't - But she knew regardless.

Y/N smiled, the kind of smile that did not need words to affirm its truth. "Yes. He treats me very well."

Jaime swallowed thickly. He had always known he was too selfish to truly wish her happiness without him, but looking at her now, seeing the peace in her eyes, the way her body held no tension, no uncertainty — He knew Oberyn had given her something he never could. The last time he remembers seeing her was that day, when the Mad king wanted to burn her alive - The fear in her eyes was no more, nor the tears wetting her beautiful face. The reign of terror was over.

"Then I am glad." he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N reached out then, the hesitation gone, and took his remaining hand in hers. "But you, Jaime? How are you?" she asked. "You have been through so many hardships - Yet finally you have prevailed and returned home." a question so simple, yet it unraveled him.

"I don’t know..." he admitted tragically.

She squeezed his hand gently. "You are still you, Jaime. Even without a sword in your hand, you are still a knight. You are still worthy of being called one."

He laughed, hollow and broken. "Do you really believe that?"

"I have always believed in you." she said softly. "Even when you did not believe in yourself." she smiled up at him. "Even when you were Ser Jaime the Cat Knight."

"That cat must still be laughing at us." Jaime shut his eyes, breathing through the ache in his chest. He wanted to turn back time, to make different choices, to never let go of her hand. But time had marched forward, and now she belonged to another, and he — He belonged to no one.

"If I could do it all again..." he murmured. "I wouldn’t hesitate."

"You forget yourself, Jaime. You did not hesitate." Y/N smiled, sad and knowing. "You did not hesitate to choose Cersei over me." the man gulped with guilt - Of course she knew, there was no need for words or explanations. Y/N knew the two of them better than they knew themselves.

"Since when...?" he found himself asking in such a meek and mousy voice.

"Since your Lady Mother moved your bedchambers across mine own." the lady let out a sardonic chuckle. "The two of you have never been known for your subtlety, mind you. People just chose to turn a blind eye to your... Misbehaviour. Deeming it a twin thing. But I knew better." she said, her voice throwing daggers at the man's heart. "I have known since then that you were a lost cause for me, and that you would fall prey to your sister's lies."

"Why did you not warn me?" he found himself asking, bewildered, yet not surprised.

"Would you have believed me, over your own sister?" Jaime nodded to himself - She was right, and he replied with a negative answer. "Thought so."

A silence stretched between them, filled with everything they had left unsaid. "There is no point for regrets anymore. We cannot go back, Jaime. We can only go forward."

Finally, Jaime spoke, his voice as fragile as the moment between them. "You are right." as always.

"Jaime - What ever happened to our bunnies?" Y/N asked, all of a sudden. "I never did get to ask you, did I?"

"No... I guess you didn't." Jaime said with a sad smile. "Cersei got angry the day she heard she won't be marrying Rhaegar Targaryen, and she hugged the rabbit so hard she killed it." of course she would do that. "She got even angrier, and she went to Tyrion, killed the rabbit in front of him, then forced the cooks to make it into a meal and feed it to him." Y/N covered her mouth in shock. "As for ours... I knew Cersei would end up hurting them... So I went into the forest one night and let them go. I do not know if they got attacked by predators, or survived... But at least they survived her." what a very sad fate for them.

"Well... Can't say I am surprised." Y/N sighed pitifully. "Sorry that I asked. I soured the mood." she said, fixing her hair. "On another note - Tell me... Is there anything that you learnt from this... Journey of yours?" Y/N asked, letting go of his hand and stepping away. "Anyone that... Taught you something meaningful?" she continued.

"What are you talking about?" the man asked with confusion.

"What do you see when you look at Brienne?" his eyes narrowed, along with his furrowed brows - He could not make the meaning of the question. "Do you know what I see in Brienne?"

"What does Brienne have to do with anything?" The lion was evidently confused.

"Everything." came the solemn answer.

"What are you talking about?"

"Does she not remind you of yourself?" Y/N ask, receiving silence.

"I am not that ugly." Y/N shot him a warning look, making him apologise. "Apart from being tall, strong and blond, I can't really see what similarities we share. Do enlighten me, O, wise one."

"Snark me like that again, and I am leaving." he remained silent. "Although your sarcasm proves me that you do, in fact, admire Brienne for what she is - And for what you were incapable of doing." she let out a dry laugh. "She did what you could not - She kept her righteous heart and kindness. You became blinded by renown and power." she spoke bitterly. "Do you even remember why you killed the Mad King? Do you remember why you so readily accepted that God-awful nickname of yours?"

"Well, if I remember correctly, he was ripping away at that pretty dress of yours, and wanted to fuck you in front of me before he would burn you alive with wildfire. Am I misremembering something?" snarky as always, and with all the bitterness. "I did not even get a thank you, if I remember well enough."

"Forgive me for crying so much that I forgot to voice my gratitude." Y/N rolled her eyes. "I was trying to remind you that you used to be selfless. You used to be the man who wanted to protect the weak; Who wanted to be the champion of justice and all those who could not protect themselves. Like Arthur Dayne and Barristan Selmy."

"Yes, well - Arthur Dayne is dead, Barristan Selmy was dismissed from his post, and I am a cripple. Between the three of us, I wonder what legacy will we bear." Y/N groaned in annoyance.

"Legacy? What are you, your father? Since when did you care about legacy? Since when did you discard everything that you ever stood for? You used to have honour, justice, righteousness." Y/N shook her head. "Do you think I fell for you because you had pretty gold hair, and gorgeous green eyes, and had a rich family?" she went on. "I fell in love with you because you were hard-working and diligent, because you always wanted to do what's right, and wanted to protect those who could not protect themselves." she let out a ragged breath, her voice breaking a little. "What happened to my sweet Jaime?"

"He died, along with the Mad King." when he got the nickname of Kingslayer, and had his reputation tarnished.

"No." Y/N said sternly, surprising him. "My Jaime died when he fell prey to his sister's manipulating lies, and forgot how to think for himself. The Jaime in front of me is nothing more than Cersei's puppet that she liked to sleep with - But no more. You're not as dashing as you used to be, without one hand and the long hair." with his answer being a contemplative silence, Y/N stepped towards the door to leave.

"Y/N." he called out. "Can you promise me something?" she hummed in agreement. "No matter which way life takes us, what roads the two of us take - No matter what - Please... Y/N... Promise me you will seek your happiness above all else."

Y/N stood there in the door, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. She had to return to Oberyn and Ellaria as fast as humanly possible - Being in the same room as Jaime brought her nothing but misery... A bittersweet misery which she could not escape.

"I promise." she mumbled under her breath, before escaping back to her chambers, into a land of love and warmth where problems existed no more.

A fortnight passed, and the wedding ceremonies were in bloom; Everyone was having fun - Except, of course, the Mad boy who thought himself a King. Y/N was content staying with her husband and his paramour, feasting at a table, somewhere away from the main events - Yet even still, as she kept squeezing Ryn's hand, she saw her mother caressing Sansa's sweet face, fixing the hairnet and stealing the mischievous crystal.

But the King grew bored, and he invited a most vulgar dwarf show, depicting his enemies fighting each other... With awful words and an even more dishonorable showcase of humiliation, which left everyone watching uncomfortable... Except for the Queen Regent, of course. Poor Sansa was fighting between being numb, and bursting into tears; First she watched her father beheaded, she was abused by her supposed betrothed, and then her brother and mother, at a wedding no less...

And to make matters worse, the first time Y/N saw Tyrion, after so long, was him being metaphorically pissed on by his own brat of a nephew - Though Y/N was almost sure Joffrey wouldn't have shied away from actually pissing on his uncle if it weren't for Tywin.

Y/N squeezed Oberyn's and Ellaria's hands tightly, watching with hawk eyes as Joffrey handed Margaery his goblet - And when she placed it on the table, she added the crystal Lady Olenna handed to her prior, when fixing her dress.

The dove cake was cut, Margaery fed him a bite or two, and then the King forced his uncle to fetch him the goblet again; One big gulp, and another, and another - Until he started choking and raking his nails at his own throat until there was skin and flesh no more; Vomit was spewing from his mouth, his eyes were red, and blood was spilling from his nose and ears; His body was trembling and spazzing involuntarily, and his shrieks were sweet lullabies to all those he had wronged.

One scheme, three people, and an unfortunate innocent to be the scapegoat. Y/N had not wished Tyrion to be blamed for this ploy, they had not anticipated Cersei's and Joffrey's sheer cruelty - Alas, the poor imp was imprisoned and trialed for his crimes.

At least Margaery was safe, and with that Oberyn also was asked to join the Small Council by none other than the Lannister Lord himself - In the brothel, no less. What a very amusing turn of events.

Tyrion was imprisoned, yet his brother did not hesitate to go talk to him; He was innocent, he knew, and yet... What could Jaime do to save him? Nothing, he realised - Alas. One thing he could, however, was to save his squire, Podrik, by sending him along with Brienne... Brienne...

Y/N had been right. Brienne was just like him, in the past, and now, with Oathkeeper in her hands, she could do what he never could - Keep her oaths, protect those in need.

Bring Sansa Stark home.

In that tainted and rotten heart of his, there was still a spark of light, and even though Catelyn Stark was dead, he had sworn to her to bring her daughter back into her arms. Jaime Lannister might be incapable of such a feat - Yet Brienne of Tarth could do anything she ever dreamt of, and more.

In the gardens, Oberyn and Y/N were writing poems for his daughters back in Sunspear - And the lioness appeared to disturb their peace. Oh, for Y/N to meet Cersei like this, after so many long years, it was unpleasant. To go from 'Cersei' to 'Your Grace' with a bow - She was sure she enjoyed it very much. Or ordering them for a walk, without the capacity to refuse.

"I did not take you for a poet." Cersei started the conversation, stealing one glance at the way Y/N and Oberyn were holding hands, and her jaw clenched in anger.

"Not a very good one, I am afraid. Y/N here has the romantic heart for it." he kissed her hand sweetly.

"I did not think you would be sharing paramours." the lioness japed.

"It is for one of my daughters." he replied.

"You have several, don't you?" Cersei pointed out.

"Eight." Ryn stated proudly.

"Eight?!" Cersei looked at him. "Eight daughters?" she repeated. "Would any of them call me 'auntie'?" she looked at Y/N, who seemed uncomfortable by the question, and avoided her gaze. "Or, perhaps a son?"

"We might not have children together by blood, Y/N loves my children as though they were her own." the Dornishman spoke up immediately.

"Pity. I suppose the prophecy came true for some." Y/N couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh.

"It did not miss you either, I am afraid." the flower smirked antagonistic at the Queen regent. "Though I believe you are less happy with the outcome, all things considered."

Cersei glared at the girl - Dorne ruined her - She used to be so mellow and sweet; Now she dares speak back to her. Blasphemy. "What is she like? Your daughter, I mean."

"She is my fifth daughter - And the most stubborn. I named her Elia, after my sister." he began.

"Beautiful name." a lie. Cersei hated Elia Martell more than any woman alive. She stole Y/N from her. She stole Rhaegar from her. She stole every thing, including her happiness.

"Yes, it is - Though I am saddened every time I speak it - And then, I grow angry." Cersei remained unmoved.

"Perhaps that is why she is difficult. Gods love their jokes, don't they?" jokes? Oberyn asked. "You are a Prince of Dorne, a legendary fighter, a brilliant, feared man throughout Westeros - Yet you could not save your sister." she said. "I am a Lannister, Queen for 19 years, daughter of the most powerful man in the kingdom, and yet I could not save my son." she went on. "And you... You belong to the second most powerful House, on which we now depend dearly; You had my father's admiration and my brother to wed, you befriended the Crown Princess and ended up happily marrying her sister..." she smiled bitterly. "But no matter how hard you tried, you could not hold onto anything that you held dear and it all slipped through your fingers."

"Might be so, but I live a happy and worryless life now. I would say it all worked for the best for me." Y/N shrugged lightly.

"Tell me, sister - What is the use of power, if you cannot protect those you love?" Cersei asked.

"You can avenge them." Cersei agreed.

"Do you really believe Tyrion killed your son?" Y/N found herself asking.

"I know he did." Cersei spoke with certainty - It took everything from Y/N not to sigh.

"He will have a trial, and we will find out the truth." Oberyn spoke simply.

"We will have a trial, yes..." Cersei then trailed on, tearfully speaking of how much she missed her daughter - Not that Y/N would understand, of course, she said. Still, they promised to deliver her the name's day gift and remind Myrcella of her mother's affections. Myrcella was happy.

Oberyn was now part of the Small Council, and heard plenty about the Targaryen girl in Mereen, winning and conquering far and wide; It gave the Viper quite the funny idea - Get the Targaryens back on the throne, to get rid of the Lannisters. Funny thought indeed. Rhaegar Targaryen abandoned his sister - Tywin Lannister killed his sister and his niece and nephew. Lesser of two evil? Who knows. In spite of this, Dorne still loathed the Dragons.

The trial was every bit as Y/N expected - Unfair, just like the whole country. She never expected Tywin to hate his own son so much that he would have him killed - Was it because he was a disgrace? An imp? Or because birthing him, his beloved Joanna died?

So many people testified against Tyrion, making his sound like such a horrifying monster... And yet Y/N saw the same squalling baby in the crib... The baby that Cersei was torturing in front of her and Oberyn.

And Jaime wasn't doing anything to save his little brother - Except, he went to beg his father for mercy, at the cost of his White Cloak; He promised he will accept the seat at the Rock, and find a suitable wife to marry and make heirs together -- Only if Tyrion lives.

The thought of marrying a woman that wasn't Y/N hurt his heart dearly - But... He knew Y/N would want Tyrion alive... And he would have been, were it not for the whore who betrayed him, who lied about him so ruthlessly... Who broke his heart, the same way he loved Tysha... And because of their father, his heart broke forever.

"Father... I wish to confess..." Tyrion sneered between his teeth, before turning to all the people watching the trial. "I saved you. I saved this city and all of your worthless lives. I should have let Stannis kill you all." the words of a very hurt man.

"Tyrion - Do you wish to confess?"

"Yes, father. I am guilty." he spoke with snark and defiance. "Guilty - Is that what you want to hear?"

"You admit you poisoned the King?" Tywin spoke, perched up on the Iron Throne.

"No. Of that, I am innocent. Tyrion said. "I am guilty of a far more montrous crime." he hissed. "I am guilty of being a dwarf."

"You are not on trial for being a dwarf." Tywin spoke, but he was easily cut off.

"Oh, but yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life!" he exclaimed pitifully.

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?" Y/N shed a tear, seeing the little Lannister being so hated. He didn't deserve all this madness.

"Nothing but this - I did not do it. I did NOT kill Joffrey, but I WISH that I had." merciless trial. "Watching your vicious bastard die gave me more relief than a THOUSAND lying whores!" Y/N had her hand over her heart, and searched for the crowd - Her eyes met with Jaime, and in that instant, they both knew - The little Lannister was doomed to death since the day he was born. "I wish I was the monster you think I am! I wish I had enough poison for the whole pack of you! I would GLADLY give my life to watch you all swallow it." he turned to his father. "I would NOT give my life for Joffrey's murder; And I know I'll never get my justice here - That's why I'll let the Gods decide my fate."

I DEMAND A TRIAL BY COMBAT.

Y/N fell into her seat, whilst Oberyn straightened up; Jaime gulped with fear, whilst Cersei gritted her teeth in anger, and Tywin clenched his fists.

The youngest Lannister was brought back to his cell, and his brother followed with one last sibling chat. The only friend he's ever had... The strongest knight in the Kingdom, yet he couldn't even fight for his brother's honour... Couldn't even defeat a stable boy, without his precious right hand.

Bronn, his sellsword, the man who fought for him once, also did not accept to fight for him - After all, who in their right mind would fight the Mountain, of all people - And Tyrion could not blame him for that.

He was all alone.

Except...

Much to his surprise, two people entered his dimly lit jail - The man he knew as Oberyn Martell, and his wife, Y/N Tyrell, of whom he knew little, except for what he heart from his brother and sister. Even now, she was as gorgeous as a flower - Or so Jaime used to describe her.

"I thought you'd be back at the brothel by this hour." Tyrion spoke softly.

"I did spend all yesterday with a stunning blonde." Oberyn said, placing his torch on the wall. Tyrion watched as he gallantly took a chair and placed his coat on it, so his wife would not dirty her dress sitting down. "Cersei approached me - We talked a lot about her daughter, how worried your sister is about her. She was trying very hard to hide she was trying to sway me away from you - I think she may have even believed it herself."

"But, well - Cersei has never been that good of a liar. Most people aren't Jaime, you see. I think you, of all people, would know that much." Y/N smiled enigmatically.

"It is very rare to meet a Lannister who shares MY enthusiasm for dead Lannisters." Oberyn exclaimed with mock joy. "She desperately wants to see you killed."

"She didn't need to bother you. It looks as though I have taken care of that myself." he sighed. "The joy she will feel when my head leaves my neck. She's wanted it for a long time."

"Yes, I know." Tyrion was confused. "We met, you and I. Many years ago."

"I think I would have remembered that." Tyrion looked suspicious.

"I don't believe you would, little one. You had only just been born." Y/N smiled sweetly. "You do not remember even me, who took care of you until the moment I left for King's Landing." he was even more confused.

"My mother, the Princess of Dorne, took me and my sister Elia on a visit to Casterly Rock - You see, our mothers were good friends, and talks of marriage were in place. Me, to marry Cersei, they said. Of course, your father would hear none of it - Thank goodness for his arrogant pride." Oberyn let out a dry chuckle. "I did not like anything about the Rock. Not the food, not the weather or your accent - Nothing. But the biggest disappointment - You."

"You and my family might have more in common than you think." Tyrion hissed pitifully.

"That is not true." Y/N said. "Everyone, everywhere, talked only about the little Lannister monster - A head twice the size of his body, a tail between his legs, claws, one red eye, the privates of both a girl and a boy."

"That would have made things so much easier." Tyrion sighed.

"When I met your sister, she promised to look us - Dragged Elia and I all the way to your nursery and she unveiled the monster." Ryn recalled dramatically. "Yes, your head was a bit large, your arms and legs a little small; But no claw, no red eyes, no tail between the legs - Just a tiny pink cock." he said. "We couldn't hide our disappointment. That's not a monster, I told Cersei. It's just a babe, Elia told her." he went on. "And she said - He killed my mother. And she pinched your little cock so hard I thought she might pull it off. Until Y/N and your brother tried to stop her." he continued the story. "It does not matter, she said. Everyone says he will die soon; I hope they are right. He should have died long ago."

"Well." Tyrion bit back a sniffle. "Sooner or later, Cersei will get what she wanted. She always gets what she wants."

"Does she?" Y/N chuckled. "She wanted to marry Rhaegar Targaryen. She wanted to marry the man she fell in love with, and have children with him. That woman only ever loved one man, and that is Rhaegar, not Jaime. All the love she bears is for herself." she said, tilting her head.

"Tell me, little man, what ever happened to that fluffy little thing nestled to you in the crib?" Tyrion frowned a little. "This beautiful lady here, before you were born, found a bunch of rabbits. One for each, and one for you - Or so she says. I always did wonder what happened to those rabbits."

"Stew." Tyrion shrugged. "Jaime used to play with me, with the rabbits. Once he left for training, the nursemaid had to take care of all four of them. It was only me, and four rabbits. Cersei was in King's Landing too... And Y/N, I do not remember you. Forgive me." he said. "I know... Cersei's rabbit died first. Some disease, the Maester said... And then she killed the rabbit and made the cooks make it into a stew, to feed me. I remember she specifically said it was my fault the rabbit died - Just like how I killed our mother." he sighed, looking down. "Jaime said his and Y/N's ran away into the garden, to live happily ever after among the flowers... My guess is, they also became porridge. Who knows."

"Cersei has always been vengeful." Y/N nodded her head. "Truth is, since the day Oberyn and Elia came into the Rock, she has hated them like nothing else." she smiled bitterly. "All because I was getting along with them so well." she said. "Dornish whore, she called Elia. O, how I wanted to wring her neck as she stood. Cersei wishes she was even a fraction and kind and gentle as Elia was."

"You see, little man - Cersei may get what she wants - But what about what I want?" Oberyn spoke, looking at the prisoner. "I married Y/N so I can save her from the Lannisters. To keep her safe from this, when your own brother abandoned her." he leaned forwards. "But there is still one thing that I demand. Justice for my sister and her children."

"If you want justice you've come to the wrong place." Tyrion laughed mirthlessly.

"You are wrong, Tyrion. The Mountain killed Elia Martell and her children, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon - At your father's orders. We want revenge for all the evil that has been done." Y/N said with power in her voice. "Elia was not my sister by blood, but I loved her like mine own. I took care of her each day, in this god-forsaken citadel of death - Only for her to be slaughtered by a monster who calls himself a knight. I will not have that be the last memory of her."

"I want bring those who have wronged me to justice - And all those who have wronged me are right here." Tyrion looked at him with awe and wonder. "I will begin with Ser Gregor Clegane who killed my sister's children, and then raped her with their blood still on his hands, before killing her too." Tyrion shed a tear when hearing him speak. "I will be your champion." his saviour.

"Do not worry, little cub. Oberyn is the Red Viper of Dorne. Not even the Mountain can stand in his way." Y/N smiled, bending to ruffle the messy and dirty golden hair on Tyrion's head, before holding Oberyn's hand to leave to their chamber.

"You tell him that, yet you worry more than anyone I have ever known in my entire life." Ryn chuckled carefree.

"Of course I worry - That man is a monster, that a human." Y/N grumbled, squeezing his hand lovingly. "And I did tell you that blasted prophecy." she looked down, biting her lip. "Do not allow it to happen. I do not wish to be a widow. I do not wish to part from you."

"Why? The prophecy said you will marry Jaime Lannister after me. Is that so bad a fate?" he japed lightly, getting slapped on the arm by his wife. Her reaction earned a heartfelt laugh, and a sweet kiss. "Worry not, my sweetling; We both know not even that monster can kill me."

"Unless you let it get to your head."

Ellaria and Y/N both were kissing and embracing their beloved Oberyn, encouraging him for his fight, whilst reminding him to be careful, to not get arrogant and all that. With such little armor, he had to be lithe.

"Don't leave me alone in this world." the ladies both said.

"Never." he replied, before going to show off with his spear.

Alas, those were the confident words of a dead man who got his revenge after his death; The poison of his lance offered the Mountain a most torturous death... Yet nothing could save Oberyn from having his head smashed in, as the monster pushed his thumbs through his eyes.

Poor Ellaria was shrieked her lungs out in horror - Y/N, however, collapsed to the ground. The prophecy had turned true, and with that, so did her sweet dream of summer.

Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne, was dead.

When Y/N was brought to her room, or how did she get there, she did not know; All she knew was that the first thing she woke up to were the green eyes of Jaime Lannister, looking down at her with worry. No one else was there - No doubt, celebrating Oberyn's death, along with Tyrion's death sentence.

"... Why are you here?" Y/N whispered, her voice saddened, and growing sadder. "Shouldn't you be trying to help your brother escape the city?"

"Already done that." he assured. "Varys will get him out of King's Landing." he said, his hand placed gently over her cheek. "Enough about that - You just lost your husband tragically. My brother's well being is the last thing on your mind."

"Do you think they will allow me to go back to Highgarden?" Y/N asked powerlessly. "I'm sure they will. But a widow, at my age? How pitiful. It was not even a war that took him. What a shame indeed."

"I... I am sure that, should you want to return home, they will welcome you with open arms." Jaime reassured her.

"Is Cersei still alive?" the question confused the man.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Did she never tell you about our little secret escapade?" Y/N giggled sadly. "Our meeting with Maggy the Frog, and the prophecy she gave us?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about." he admitted, furrowing his brothers.

"During the time of Prince Viserys' birth celebration tourney, Cersei took me to the witch's tent. She answered us three questions, you see." she smiled, looking away. "Cersei's was that she would marry a King, not a Prince. That she would have three children, shrouded in gold, while the King will have sixteen." Jaime looked at her with shock - They were so young back then - How could the witch know all that? How could she predict so well? "She will become Queen, until another, more beautiful, will take her place. She will outlive her children, and then, the valonqar will strangle her to death - Or something like that." she chuckled softly. "Younger brother, it means."

"You think Tyrion would kill her?" the girl shrugged. "No, he's gone. It's okay."

"Is it?" she snorted, getting in a sitting position.

"What was yours?" he asked, surprising her with his curiosity. "What was your prophecy?"

"Hmm... How did it go now? Something like... I will marry two men - A red viper (clearly, Oberyn was that), and a golden lion, valiant and proud." she let out a sardonic chuckle. "I won't have any children because I am barren, thank the Gods for that." she went on. "And, the one I hated the most - The viper shall topple over the mountain, yet perish beneath its weight. You, who shall free the lion of its shackles, shall lead the pride."

Jaime remained silent - The thought of marrying Y/N was sweet and tempting... But surely, not at the detriment of the man she loved so much. "Y/N." he licked his lips, trying to form his words. "I know... I have wronged you. More times than I can dare count. And... I know you loved Oberyn with all your heart." he continued, awkwardly and unsure. "However... If you ever feel lonely, and you wish for a place to enjoy your days... Perhaps not as festive and easy-going as Dorne, but with all the luxury... I..." he looked down for a few seconds, before looking back at her. "I will resign from the Kingsguard on the spot and join you at Casterly Rock. No father, no Cersei, no Crown. Nothing. I won't go to war, I won't leave your side, I won't do anything stupid or reckless anymore - Not that I can at this point, anyway."

"And when the Targaryen girl comes to steal the crown from Cersei's head - What then? Will you go to save her, and leave me behind again? Will you start a war against the dragons?" but her answer was a tight hug.

"I will bow my head and bend the knee to the girl. I am tired of war. I am tired of being involved in the unjustly matters of the Crown, of my own family. I want no more part in any of it." Y/N's hand reached to caress the man's rough and scarred face.

"Can you, truly?" he nodded. "You will not desert me again?" he shook his head. "And you will love me more than you ever loved Cersei?"

"I have always love you more than I loved Cersei." Jaime admitted sincerely. "I just got caught in her lies... And in her bed. Everything she said... All her lies... I was too stupid, and I believed all of them." he muttered, kissing her forehead sweetly. "But no more of that. I cannot even stand the look of her - Not after what she did to Tyrion."

"... Alright, Jaime." she muttered, easing into his embrace. "But we are leaving the city tonight, without question."

"Anything for you, my Rose."

As promised, Jaime went to his father's tower and left the white cloak there, telling him he will become heir, and marry Y/N Tyrell; Let him believe in legacies all he wants - He is done living another man's dream - From now, he lives his own reverie.

With Tommen becoming King, and Margaery Queen, the Faith rose up, and the High Septon took over; They imprisoned Margy and Cersei - But the little rose was smart, of course, she was a Tyrell taught by the Queen of Thorns herself; Cersei, however, had the pride of a lioness, but not the smarts of it; With Tywin long dead, she was all alone in King's Landing and with no allies, save for an exiled maester, who was only able to deliver a letter to Casterly Rock - To Jaime, to come save her.

"Come at once.” she had written, in the letter he had Y/N burn in their shared chamber. “Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.” Her need was real enough, Jaime did not doubt. As for the rest … She’d been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleblack and Moon Boy for all he knew … Even if he had gone back, he could not hope to save her. She was guilty of every treason laid against her, and he was short a sword hand, a loving heart, and good reason.

He had sworn a vow to protect his wife, and he was not going to break that one, even if the Gods will it - Especially not for his sister. He was done playing the hero - He was fine being Jaime the Cat Knight, or Jaime the Tumbler, or Jaime the Whatever-Nickname-Y/N-Came-Up-With for him; And even better, she kept her promise of coming up with a song for his greatness as the best cat-chaser to ever exist.

With no allies and no one to turn to, Cersei faced the walk of shame, but with that came revenge, in the form of wildfire, and the destruction of the Sept of Baelor, along with the young Queen and her brother, Loras Tyrell, and their father, Mace.

The news of her family dying at the hands of Cersei only fueled Y/N's need for revenge - And in turn, Highgarden rose against the Crown, and was ready to pledge their allegiance to the Dragon Queen - And so did Casterly Rock. The Queen may have her Crown, but will not have the coin, army nor support of her family.

And thus, the Dragon Queen moved to reclaim her Crown, starting a war; King’s Landing burned in the distance, a city of ashes and ghosts. The Red Keep loomed above, its once majestic silhouette tainted by the destruction Cersei had wrought. The Queen of Ashes, ruling over nothing but ruin. That is what she will always be known as.

Jaime and Y/N moved swiftly like shadows through the corridors, silent, unseen. The castle was quieter than it had ever been. The scent of fire still lingered in the air, mixed with the distant cries of the people who had lost their families..

At last, they reached Cersei’s chambers. Jaime placed a hand on the door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Y/N watched him, waiting. There was no doubt in her heart — He had already made his choice. She squeezed his arm, giving him all the courage she had.

He pushed the door open.

Cersei sat by the balcony, watching the war beneath her, with a goblet of wine in her hand, her golden hair, short and disheveled, her face pale and angered. The moment she saw them, her lips curled into something between relief and desperation. It was fake, as it has always been.

"Jaime! Y/N" she exhaled, standing quickly. "You came for me. I knew you would!" she let out a chuckle of relief. "I began to fear my letter never reached you!"

Jaime said nothing. His green eyes were unreadable, locked onto hers with an intensity that made her falter. "I threw it in the fire."

Y/N stepped forward, her own gaze burning on Cersei. "No one is coming to save you, Cersei. Not after everything you've done to us."

Cersei scoffed, though there was a tremor in her voice. "Of course you would hold a grudge like a love sick puppy getting kicked." she sneered at Y/N. "I thought you got over my brother. Shame."

Jaime exhaled sharply. "You always thought me weak over you, didn’t you? The smartest child Tywin had." sis voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "Well - You are not as smart as you think you are, Father was right about that."

Cersei’s gaze flickered to his, searching for the brother she once knew, the one she could twist around her little finger. But he was gone. "Jaime—"

"You were wrong to tear us apart." Cersei’s lips parted, confusion flashing across her face.

"I loved her." Jaime said, stepping closer. "I always loved her. Not you. Not the twisted thing you became. I was just too much of a blind fool to admit it."

Cersei staggered back a step. "You don’t mean that." she whispered. "You and I, we were meant to come into this world together, and we were meant to leave it together. Don’t you remember? Don’t you—"

"Valonqar." Y/N purred into Cersei's ear, placing her hands on her shoulder. Her voice was laced with amusement, her lips curling into a cruel smile.

Cersei paled. Y/N continued, tilting her head. "You always thought Tyrion would be the one to end you. But oh, sweet Cersei…" She stepped even closer. "You held Jaime's foot when you were delivered into this world, did you not?"

"No—" Jaime’s hand shot forward, wrapping around her throat.

Cersei’s eyes went wide. Her hands grasped at his wrist, but she was powerless against him. "Jaime — Please!" she gasped, her voice cracking, her nails clawing at his flesh. "We were— We are... I lov---"

His grip tightened. Tears welled in her eyes as she choked, her body convulsing, her knees buckling. Jaime leaned in close, his voice a whisper. "You destroyed everything we ever had. Everything I could have been." her lips parted, her breath shuddering, but no words came out. "I hate you, Cersei. Good riddance."

Her struggles weakened. Her fingers slipped from his wrist. Her eyes, once gorgeous, green and so full of fire, dulled. And then — Nothing.

Jaime let her lifeless body slump to the floor. For a moment, there was silence.

Y/N looked down at the corpse of the woman who had ruined and humiliated them both plenty of times. Cersei, the golden lioness of the Rock, now just another body, like all the casualties of war.

She turned to Jaime. He was staring at the lifeless form of his twin, his expression unreadable. Y/N stepped closer, reaching for him. He flinched, but she didn’t let go. Her fingers brushed against his cheek, grounding him. "She was never your sweet dream, my love." she whispered. "Only a night terror."

Jaime’s green eyes met hers, filled with something raw and aching. He exhaled, the weight of a lifetime of regret leaving his body. "Let’s go home, sweet Rose." he murmured. Y/N smiled softly. "You promised to sing to me that Ballad you wrote - About the Golden Knight and the Flower Nymph."

"Of course, my darling."

Hand in hand, they stepped over Cersei’s body and left the Red Keep for the last time. Daenerys Targaryen would get her throne, would marry the bastard of Ned Stark who turned out to be Elia Martell's son, Aegon Targaryen; And Tyrion would re-take his position as Hand of the Queen.

Y/N and Jaime would remain in Casterly Rock, where the sea met the stone, forever to enjoy each other's company, in a place where they could finally be free to live their sweet dream.

#jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf imagine #got #got x reader #got imagine

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julesnichols · 27 days ago

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Okay bear with me here because I've got brain fog and tend to word salad but I'm gonna try my fucking best--

Everyone who insists that shipping/romance isn't the point of Severance and that anyone who ships is missing the REAL point about what capitalism does is also missing the fucking point, because it's BOTH

Because yes, it's about what capitalism does and the evils of giant corporations. But it's also about love, and specifically two things about love:

1. That falling in love when you're not supposed to, when you're trapped in hell, is one of the most revolutionary things you can do in a system that wants to crush you into dust. In a system that wants you to obey, loving somebody instead of giving in or giving up IS the most revolutionary choice you can make. This corporation can tell you that you're less than human, they can torture you, but you can still carve out a life and a family and find romantic love, too

and

2. That you cannot create a version of yourself that exists solely to do labor for his entire life so that you can cease to exist for forty hours of the week to escape your grief, and not face the consequences of that action

I think I've made my point about the first one enough as is, so let me just get into the second a bit more:

Mark Scout was choking on his grief over losing Gemma. He drowned himself in alcohol to cope, and either lost or left his job that he loved. He took a job that involved brain surgery to split his consciousness in half rather than confront his grief head on; he can choose not to exist for forty hours of his week, and spend the other hours either drunk out of his mind or asleep (the consequences of drinking being something that bleed into his innie as well).

I think that anyone who's dealt with a traumatic and painful loss can relate to why he would do such a thing. Isn't it understandable, if you had a way to not exist for a while, that you would take it without hesitation? That if you were drowning and confronting it would mean more pain before it got better, you'd run from it if you could?

But what Severance wants us to do is go beyond sympathizing with Mark Scout: it asks us to consider the consequences. Because in severing himself for a reason people can sympathize with him for, he created a version of himself that exists solely to work for his entire life, with no breaks, no rest, and torture tactics when he fucks up-- no matter how small the fuck up may be.

A version of himself without his memories, who has trickles of his grief but none of the love to go with it. Who falls in love with someone he meets down there, because Mark S. was created so that Mark Scout could avoid his grief and his love for Gemma. And thus, Mark S. moved on, because he never knew anything else.

Then Mark Scout finds out that Gemma is alive. He reintegrates without his innie's consent, because he views Mark S. as inferior to him and entitled to his memories. Their relationship is inherently exploitative.

Mark S. and Helly's relationship progresses further. Helena Eagan stalks Mark Scout. And here's something that gets me: you have to have your head buried six feet deep in the fucking sand to not see that they were flirting.

A sane person would've run when Helena awkwardly bragged about who she was and offered to bring Mark Scout to her father. But Mark Scout escalates it, turning it into a flirtatious joke about her taking him home to dad. And yes, he does ultimately go for more brain surgery because he feels guilty and spooked that he was flirting with Helena. Because he escalated the flirting.

Again, you have to be deep in denial to not see that. It relates back to the point about how he feels entitled to his innie's memories and experiences: he feels guilty and unsettled, so he tries to absorb more of them in hopes of more glimpses of Gemma to help him find and save her.

Again, can't you sympathize with that?

And again, the show asks you to consider the ramifications beyond that.

(note: I am on the side that innies and outies aren't cut and dry separate people as they are the same base people with different memories and lived experiences, akin to amnesia)

The first thing that Mark Scout remembers is Mark S. having sex with Helly, specifically as he watches her orgasm for the first time while he's inside of her. An extremely intimate moment, and it's intentional that it's that and not another flash of Gemma. Because the show, once again, is asking the audience to consider the consequences of Mark Scout's actions in severing himself.

And Mark S. recognizes that Mark Scout is exploiting him at the end! Mark Scout demands he find Gemma, save her, and be willing to die (because even if he reintegrates, NEITHER of them will be the same-- I'll come back to this in a sec). He belittles what Mark S. has with Helly and the life he's made for himself. He dehumanizes him. Because Mark Scout created Mark S. to escape, to do labor for him, and again-- he wanted to use him to get Gemma and then cast him aside, furthering how he dehumanizes and exploits him... and there are consequences to that action.

Back to the thing about reintegration I said I'd get back to: the characters within show, and quite frankly a large swath of the audience, thinks that it's Mark Scout absorbing Mark S.'s memories, and just still being Mark Scout with those memories. And yet, the show has shown us that this isn't the case. Petey says his earliest memories of the severed floor feel as far back as his childhood! What I think reintegration does, is create a new version of innie and outie, with both their memories. And that it's probably reliant more on harmony of goals and desires than forcing it; but again, the outies view the innies as inferior. Even the people in the show who claim to advocate against severance don't consider the innies human enough to consider what'll happen to them.

And so of course Mark S. chooses himself for the first time in his life at the end of the season. Because once again, the show asks you to look beyond the surface and consider the consequences.

And yet, too much of the audience also subconsciously (or consciously sometimes tbh) thinks of innies as subhuman, and miss the entire fucking point. Yes, there are obnoxious shippers; there always fucking are in large fandoms, use the block button as God intended. But you are being equally obnoxious and obtuse if you insist that the show does not want us to consider love and romance, too. Because again, it's about both the evils of capitalism and how revolutionary love can be, and how you cannot escape your actions. You cannot separate those two themes, because the show uses the romances in the show as vehicles to explore the evils and consequences of capitalism.

So stop fucking saying everybody who ships things doesn't understand the show, and actually watch it yourself, because clearly you don't either.

#severance #fandom wank #anyone who tries to clown will end up in the clown car btw (my blocklist)#argue with a wall and die mad about it tbh #sick of pretentious assholes acting superior bc they don't ship things #like ok 👍 great 👍 good for you 👍#you don't have to ship things ofc #but don't act like you're superior for it or that the show doesn't want you to consider these romances #and feel conflicted things #bc you cannot separate the vehicle they're using to explore these themes from from said themes

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daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

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Secret exchanges

Summary: a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Author’s note: this is set pretty soon after I am ash from your fire ☺️

Warnings: furthering my sexy Eris agenda by letting him be a smidge cunty

Word count: ~1k

“Shadowsinger.”

“High Lord.”

The titles were exchanged with tense tones as both males look each other over in hopes of finding a nearly fatal wound they could exploit. Coming up short of that, the two watch each other with uncertain gazes, this meeting marking something new.

The Illyrian steps closer, holding out a box in his scarred hands. The new high lord accepts the parcel, looking inside to ensure everything is accounted for. Underneath the lid, the box contains six beautifully decorated mint chocolate cupcakes from the bakery you adore that’s nestled in the heart of Velaris.

“Are condolences in order?”

Eris sneers at Azriel’s taunting tone, snapping the lid to the cupcakes, “only to the foolish noblemen my father made rich. It feels as if everyone in Autumn can breathe properly now that a foul stench has dissipated.”

Males of lesser intelligence could have pieced together the timeline between Rhys banishing you from Night and Eris assassinating Beron within a 24 hour span. Despite his feelings for the red head before him, Azriel was impressed at how swiftly he took the reins.

Azriel inspects the male before him, somehow standing taller than he had previously seen, as if the weight of the world were lifted from his shoulders. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight passing through the trees, and he looked as if the Earth had molded him herself. He almost glowed beneath his skin, as if his veins crackled with pure fire.

Azriel knew Rhys was blowing things out of proportion by banishing you, and Azriel, along with the rest of the inner circle, had no idea how to help you or to let you know that they didn’t care.

Well, they did care. They cared a lot. He and Cassian alone spent several hours sparring trying to work through their rage at the Cauldron’s choice of mate for you.

They weren’t thrilled by this situation, but ultimately they understood that this wasn’t your choice, and while it is your choice now, Azriel of all people couldn’t hate you for trying to make your mating bond work.

He wanted to hate you, though. When he was first told of your banishment, he wanted to destroy your room, destroy any and all memories of this betrayal. He spent days in a fog, running through his meticulous backlog of scheduling to figure out when and how such a ‘relationship’ had occurred.

He had finally left his room in a rage and was on his way to your room when he ran into Nesta, where she practically dragged Azriel by his ear to the training ring. She forced Azriel to spar with her, forcing him to talk about why it hurt so badly.

It would be easy for him to write off your banishment as the right thing to do under the guise of his hatred for Eris. But the real truth, settled deep, deep down in his bones, was that you were the only other member of the family who wasn’t paired off.

He felt less alone when you were around. Not that he had any inclinations towards you. It just didn't feel as crushing with someone else to share the burden. Now with you being gone, albeit not of your own accord, he felt that loneliness seep back in, that deep desire for someone to love him wholly.

But now you’re off, banished not only from your court, but from your family. Rhys had commanded all of them to cease any contact with you directly.

Technically Eris was a workaround.

Azriel could never deny you, especially not when it came to your obsession with the cupcakes he just handed to Eris, the two of you sneaking off on several occasions to satisfy the sweet tooth you shared.

Despite every part of screaming to do so, he couldn’t deny your mate when he came to the shadowsinger, asking for an olive branch.

Azriel cleared his throat, not wanting to spend anymore time with the newly appointed High Lord, but still needing some update on you, “how is she?”

Eris sighed, mulling over how to answer the shadowsinger. His thoughts went to you, and how you always spoke fondly of Azriel. You’d never keep the truth from Azriel, despite keeping the mating bond from him. You hated not telling anyone in your family, a topic of conversation you and Eris constantly circled back to.

“Coping as you would expect,” the new high lords words making Azriel feel worse than he did before. The shadowsinger’s eyes move to the ground, and in a rare move, decides to extend an olive branch of his own.

For you. He would do this for you.

“I don’t agree with Rhys’s actions.”

Eris raises his eyebrows, “ah, so the dogs can disagree with their master.”

Azriel’s snarl causes Eris’s lip to curl in a smirk, but he holds his hands up in surrendor.

“I never expected you or the other one to ever disagree with him, at least never admitting it to me.”

Hazel eyes meet amber, a mask over his features as he slits his eyes in warning.

“Don’t make me regret disagreeing with Rhys.”

Eris’s expression softens at the Illyrian despite the obvious threat lacing his words. He looks down at his fingers, inspecting his nails as if he can't be bothered to look at Azriel anymore.

“If I ever do anything that would make you regret it, you and the other brutes may come and dispose of me yourselves. The honor would belong to you, if she doesn’t wish to collect.”

Azriel turned to leave, but was stopped by Eris’s voice.

“Before you go,” Azriel turned as Eris procured several sealed envelopes with your handwriting on the front.

“I was instructed to leave these with you.”

Azriel grabs the letters from Eris’s hands, as if he would burn them in front of the Shadowsinger, taunting him further with any contact to you.

In his hands lay several letters, each one addressed to a member of your family except for Rhysand.

Eris’s voice chimes back in, “she wanted to write to him. Couldn’t find the words.”

He shrugs, turning his back on the Shadowsinger as he starts walking back through the orchard, flowers blooming all around them.

“Or perhaps she knew he would skin you alive if you delivered it to him before he was ready.”

#eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader #acotar fanfiction #forgot to tag when I posted this smh

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uriel-is-best-girl · 2 months ago

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Spoilers for up to ch 130 of Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work

Alright, so one thing that Got Dropped into a Ghost Story, Still Gotta Work (what is the abbreviation for this??) really got right is the horror.

Something I often find with these kinds of horror novels (infinite flow, protag having a cheat, excet) is that the horror can often turn into just spooky set dressing, just a background aesthetic. The scares stop being or never were impactful, there's no tension, all that.

This novel, of course, has the "what if someone who's a scaredy-cat was put into the horror setting" gimmick, which means our mc is constantly affected by the setting. Yet, at the same time, Roe also has to survive the horror scenarios somehow, which means he does crazy shit because he has all the answers on his phone to survive. So the real question is how does the author reintroduce fear after giving a character something like that? It's not enough for Roe to be scared and get through the scenarios anyways. I think the two key things at work here is elimination of safety and lasting consequences.

Nowhere is safe. This is a slow realization, one that Roe knew immediately, but has to be proven to the audience. This is a world in which at any moment you could walk into a ghost story. While his job may literally be to enter these ghosts stories, that doesn't make him immune to the inherent nature of this world. The first two nightmares Roe goes through are forced, and sudden, but still controlled in that he was put into them on purpose. But the serial killer mansion? The train to Tamra? Hazards of living in this world, its why he chose to stay with the company after arriving in this universe, because now that he's here there no way to avoid them.

Okay, so the universe itself isn't safe. You could go into a ghost story at anytime, but that isn't the only hazard of simply existing. At work there are terrifying and inhuman (literally or personality wise) coworkers: Kwak Jegang, a researcher who plays with peoples lives, Lee Jaheon, a lizard headed alien, and higher ups who you must carefully dance around, being a well preforming employee without making them suspicious.

And at own home? A haunted doll that you must be friends with, which contains a terrifying being who has a completely different, inhumane value system, and a roommate that will kill or exploit you the moment you let your guard down.

So no place is safe, but worse, is that the author takes it a step further. Nowhere is safe, not even your own mind. The way unreliable narration is used in conjunction with the contamination is chilling. It was terrifying for me to realize with Roe what was happening. That neither of us noticed, and that he was about to go back to not noticing. It was a sickening tension, and afterwards when we see some of the things that were suppressed by the corruption, the hints he left for Lee Jaheon? It adds to the horror, because he was fighting it, but all your best efforts are lost when you're fighting against your own mind. When you forget that you're trying to fight something at all.

Built into this, and being the other crucial element, is lasting consequences. The nightmares they enter are onetime, self-contained things rights? Yes, there's always a danger of accidentally entering them but once you leave it's all over right? Turns out it's more complicated than just a scenario that randomly appears and repeats! What happens in the nightmares, and the relationships made with the monsters, isn't self-contained. The two most potent examples are probably the tattoo from the Blue Mascot, and Roe's relationship with Braun.

To be honest Roe and Braun's relationship is I think one giant example of this and I'm probably going to do a whole other post about their relationship. For a majority of the novel the consequences of messing with, or making Braun mad have been built up. Roe is terrified both because of all the stories of people mistreating haunted dolls, and also because he saw firsthand how powerful Braun is. And when the time comes that it happens, Roe makes Braun mad, its sufficiently terrifying. There was no way for Roe of the alien coalition rescuing him to defeat Braun through brute force, and remember. Nowhere is safe. There was nowhere that Roe could run where Braun wouldn't eventually find him.

Actually, thinking about it, I'm noticing a theme as I type this out... Because with both Braun and Blue Mascot the only way out of the situation, the only solution, was to talk to them, and isn't that interesting? I'll have to make a different post analyzing that...

Anyways, I've gone on for long enough now, conclusion is that I really love this novel and idk what I'm going to do while I wait for more chapters to accumulate...

#kim soleum #got dropped into a ghost story still gotta work #roe deer #braun #got dropped into a ghost story still gotta work spoilers

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fangirlingalittletoohard · 2 months ago

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Wildest Dreams

You name was chosen during the Reaping. Finnick Odair is assigned as your mentor. Despite how wrong it is, there is something between the two of you. But it's doomed, isn't it? Your death is inevitable, yet somehow, your thoughts are consumed by your mentor.

Part 3 - final part

1,582 words

Finnick Odair x reader

Use of y/n

Warnings: trauma, implied sexual exploitation, mentions of death

Masterlist

Part 2 here

................................................................................................

An intense feeling of panic woke you. You tried to sit up but were unable. A bright light above you disorientated you and you couldn’t quite figure out where you were. Paper sheets were laid over your body and you could feel the sting of needles in your arms. You could hear a voice. It was angry and desperate.

“I swear, if you -”

Darkness began to overcome you again. It was Finnick’s voice. Despite the anger in his tone, it calmed you a little.

~~~

When you awoke again, you were in a small, sterile-looking room. You lay atop a cold metal table. Slowly, you moved your neck, then your shoulders, then pushed yourself up to lean against your elbows.

You were dressed in a lightweight sea-green gown. You pushed yourself up further and examined your arms and legs: no cuts, bruises, or even scars. The stubbly hair that had begun to regrow after being waxed from your body before the games had disappeared again. Your skin was smooth and seemed to shimmer under the light when you moved your limbs in a certain way.

Carefully, you swung yourself around so that your legs dangled off the edge of the table. There was a mirror opposite you, and you stood and observed yourself in it. Your hair had been pinned back and fell in long tousled tresses down your back, adorned with pearls and seashells. Elaborate green and gold paint had been applied to your eyelids and your lashes were extended and painted a deep green. Your dress caught the light as you moved, giving the impression of sun reflecting on the imperfect surface of the ocean.

You were mesmerised for a moment until you became consumed by utter disgust. Looking at yourself now, there was no indication that you had ever been in the arena. That final hour had surely left you with at least a few scars, but nothing showed. You had been dressed up like a doll. A doll that had killed two children.

As you turned away from the mirror, A door in the corner of the room swung open. Wordlessly, you were guided out of the room, into an elevator, through various corridors, and finally backstage. Of course, your first interview as Victor. You almost gagged at the thought of having to take to the stage and continue your performance, but before you had time to kick up a fuss, you were being ushered onstage towards Caesar Flickerman.

~~~

You barely remembered the interview. It was as if your brain was erasing its own memory every few seconds. You stared blankly at the large screen displaying the ‘highlights’ of your games, including the two murders which you had committed. It didn’t feel real. You barely recognised yourself. Numerous times, Caesar had to repeat a question. The only memorable moment was President snow approaching you to place the crown in your hair. He reeked of roses, and you had to conceal yourself retching as he walked away.

Finally, you were ushered offstage, through yet more corridors, into a car, and onto the train. You were going home. Home to face the people who knew and loved the boy you had killed.

“Oh my god, [y/n]!”

A body collided with yours, arms wrapped around you, a hand pulled your head into the crook of a neck. “Finnick!” You barely managed to choke out. Tears were rising so fast that you were powerless to stop them. “Are you okay?” He asked, worry evident in his tone. He held your shoulders and pushed you away slightly, scanning your face. Large, hot tears began to fall down your cheeks. “Yeah, I’m-” You were interrupted by a sob. Finnick pulled you into him again, holding you so tightly that you could barely breathe.

Eventually, the train started to move, your sobs subsided, and your tears dried. Finnick refused to let go of you. Gripping your hand tightly, he led you into a living room area and sat opposite you on a sofa. “They wouldn’t let me see you, [y/n]. Not after…” He paused and broke eye contact with you. “Not after what?” You asked, suddenly concerned. “It’s best you don’t know.” He decided, quietly. “Finnick,” you began, somewhat more aggressively than you had intended, “I have a right to know what’s going on.” Finnick sighed, defeatedly. He looked tired. “After my games, the Capitol took a liking to me. Practically the second I turned eighteen, my body was being sold to the highest bidder.” He laughed bitterly. “When they got you out of the arena, you were in a bad way. You needed a lot of surgery. I’d heard what people, what men in the Capitol had been saying about you. They weren’t going to just give you essential surgery, [y/n]. By the time I got into your room, they were marking up your breasts. I managed to kick up enough of a fuss that it got back to some pretty high up people. They decided that only lifesaving surgery was necessary after that.”

You sat in silence for a long time. You felt sick. You had been on death’s doorstep, and whilst you were unconscious, the surgeons had been deciding how best to make you look appealing, rather than focussing on keeping you alive. Food and drink were brought to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to consume anything, you simply sat opposite Finnick, your mind racing.

After hours of silence, you finally spoke, voicing your biggest concern. “Finnick, how am I supposed to go back to living like normal?” You practically whispered. Finnick thought for a moment, before replying, “you’re not.” Finally, you looked back up at him. “How are people going to react when I get back? I killed a boy I went to school with.” Again, Finnick took his time to reply. “Some people will be proud, others will be angry, and some will just be celebrating another District 4 Victor.” “How do I deal with it?” You asked. “Just like in the arena. You do what you must to survive.”

You closed your eyes. You had hoped that the Games being over would mean that you could stop being a tribute, and Finnick your mentor, but you understood now that that wouldn’t be the case for a very long time. The Games weren’t ever really over. This time next year, it would be you mentoring a fresh set of tributes, and you would still need Finnick’s advice. The opportunity to have a normal relationship with him had been torn away from you. There were plenty of things to be angry about, but in that moment, the one that outweighed them all was the fact that you would never know if the spark between the two of you was real, or just a result of your shared trauma.

~~~

Finnick had been right about District 4’s reaction to you. Stepping off the train, you were greeted by a roar of cheers and applause. It was overwhelming. Your district seemed, on the whole, to be revelling in your victory and had spared no expense in their celebratory efforts. Everywhere you looked were streamers, posters, fireworks, and pictures of you dressed in your opening ceremony costume.

Back home, however, was a vastly different affair. Practically as soon as you reached the front door you were enveloped in a hug by both of your parents, your cheeks wet with a combination of both your tears and theirs, but they seemed reluctant to allow you fully inside. Slipping through their grasp, you discovered why: the window had been broken, and the words ‘justice will be served’ painted in black letters stained the living room wall.

“We know you only did what you did in order to survive,” your father began, his voice measured and careful, “but a lot of people aren’t pleased about Cove.” Cove. That was his name - the boy from your district who you had killed. It wasn’t easy to think about him before you knew his name, but now that his name had come out of your father’s mouth, it was even more difficult. “We don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here with us.” Your mother stated softly. “You have a house in Victor’s Village. You’ll have more protection there. We’ll come and visit.”

You couldn’t speak. There were a thousand things to say, but not a single one seemed worth voicing. Your life would never be normal again. All you could do was nod before turning and heading in the direction of the sea.

You walked until your feet were in the water. Cool water lapped around your ankles and you forced yourself to breathe in time with the gently breaking waves. After a while, you became aware of a presence behind you. Arms wrapped around your waist and held you tightly. “Finnick.” You whispered, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. “I’ve got you.” He assured, placing a soft kiss to the side of your temple. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears threatened to spill out.

You took a few more deep breaths. Finnick’s scent was almost indistinguishable from the salty sea air. It felt like home. You were so confused about so many things, but the one thing you felt utterly sure of in that moment was that Finnick was the one safe and constant thing in your life. You would be okay because Finnick would make sure of it.

................................................................................................

A/N - I'm SO SORRY the final part took so long! Life got in the way! Thank you for the patience my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist - @chelseyyouraverageluigi

#finnick odair x you #finnick x you #finnick x reader #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #thg finnick #hunger games finnick #thg x you #thg x reader #thg #the hunger games #hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay

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prettyinpwn · 9 months ago

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Bill and Ford and Adult Grooming - Why Gravity Falls is a Metaphor Champion for Abusive Relationships (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 4)

GF Writing Analysis Series:

Pt. 1 - Ford Pines: A Masterclass in Writing a Good Flawed Character Pt. 2 - How Gravity Falls Could Have Been Better + Poor Ford and Wendy Pt. 3 - Mabel Pines: How Well Was She Written... Really?

Hello and welcome to the fourth post in my GF Writing Analysis series! Though the title is self-explanatory, I still want to warn folks that this post will contain dark content relating to adult grooming AKA abuse. If that is content you'd rather avoid (and for some reason your filters did not catch my trigger warning tags), this is your heads up that this post will contain that type of discussion.

For those of you who are not sure what adult grooming is, no, it's not the sexual grooming between an adult and a minor like we typically think of when the term "grooming" comes up, nor does it have to be romantic at all, although sexual acts can be a part of this form of grooming. It is defined as:

"-the predatory act of manoeuvring another individual into a position that makes them more isolated, dependent, likely to trust, and more vulnerable to abusive behaviour. The goal is to prepare the other person for abuse (for example, sexual or financial) later. Therefore, the groomer’s first step is to establish friendship and trust." (Source).

It is my belief that the relationship between Bill and Ford in Gravity Falls - which The Book of Bill helped illustrate even more - is one of adult grooming. This post will explore how the concept of adult grooming applies to the relationship between Bill and Ford, how it changes our perception of them as characters, and the value of showing metaphors for abuse in media for all ages - like Gravity Falls is - to help bring to light this very real and underdiscussed issue and help victims recognize it themselves.

Defining Adult Grooming Further + Who Bill Really Is

We already visited the definition of adult grooming above, but we haven't explored the psychology behind it yet. Namely, I want to explore who partakes in adult grooming on both ends. There is the abuser, and the victim.

The abuser is described as often being:

"Narcissists, Antisocial predators, con artists and sexual aggressors practice grooming to target and manipulate vulnerable people for exploitation." (Source).

Well, very obviously, we know that Bill is the abuser. But... why? He could be a narcissist, an antisocial predator, and a con artist, just like the above description. But which? Why is he an abuser?

Well, our first inclination might be to turn to The Book of Bill and think about his backstory; how he could see in the third dimension in a two dimensional world, tried to "liberate" his dimension to see what he could see, and... then slaughtered them all. He implies it was an accident. He just "wanted the best" for his people. But... drumroll please... get ready for a U-turn into some literary talk...

The Great Gatsby references surrounding The Book of Bill were more than just a "lol random" joke. Infamously, the narrator of The Great Gatsby, Nick Carraway, is what's called an 'unreliable narrator'. This is a writing technique defined as:

"-any narrator who misleads readers, either deliberately or unwittingly. Many are unreliable through circumstances, character flaws or psychological difficulties. In some cases, a narrator withholds key information from readers, or they may deliberately lie or misdirect." (Source).

To me, after understanding just how much more Hirsch has tied The Great Gatsby to The Book of Bill's release (e.g "TJ Eckleburg" being the password to get into the associated ARG website, offering a free PDF of The Great Gatsby on said website)... I think what Hirsch is trying to say, is... Bill is an unreliable narrator, as well. Not that that wasn't already well established throughout the series.

Let's ask ourselves this question: is there anyone Bill hasn't lied to? Tried to gain sympathies from? I'll wait. Because the answer is no. Bill lies every time he opens his mouth. Even the god of the Gravity Falls setting - the Axolotl - calls him a liar in the Dipper and Mabel and the Curse of the Time Pirates' Treasure!: Select Your Own Choose-Venture book.

So as a small aside to the main point of this post: I don't think there's anything in The Book of Bill that we can guarantee is proof or canon. If I'm honest, I think The Book of Bill is the mad rambling of a monster trying to justify to us as well as himself that he's better than he really is. He's an unreliable narrator to himself because he needs to save himself from mentally shattering upon the admission that, yeah, he's really that horrible of a person.

If I were to define what The Book of Bill is, is it's a sad attempt to elicit sympathy for a monster, by a monster. It's a masterclass in how he - as an abuser - grooms someone. If you read The Book of Bill and walk away feeling bad for Bill, then congratulations! You would have fallen prey to him just like Ford did. And just like everyone who ever fell prey to him before that.

The metaphor Gravity Falls and its extra content illustrates through Bill is how charming, funny, and enticing and sexy according to Tumblr for some godforsaken reason abusers can be in real life. Because the worst of monsters are the ones who do everything to convince you they're not.

So what does this say about Bill as a character? Don't be fooled. He really is that monstrous. He doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Everything Bill does is with a goal in mind, a person to be used or manipulated to get there, and with a complete lack of conscience to stop himself from doing it. And that's what makes Bill such a strong and terrifying villain: He really is that evil. He really is that soulless. He's not a villain of great strength or power that can be easily defeated with might. He's a villain that underlines something very real beyond a screen or book page, something that we all likely have experienced in real life: an abuser.

Bill and Ford: Abuser and Abused + How Bill Does It

Getting back to the definition of adult grooming, let's explore how it works. There are typical steps abusers like Bill use. We'll list them, then list examples alongside each step that show how Bill used these tactics on Ford for the sake of both exploring their characters more, and illustrating how well Gravity Falls depicts actual abuse.

Please note that I'm using this source as my guideline on the steps of adult grooming.

Step One: Targeting the Victim

The abuser first looks for someone they can target. They learn all they can about the victim. Typically, they look for victims who are:

Unpopular or have family problems. Gee... who does this sound like?

People who have low self-esteem. GEE... sounds familiar again.

People who have mental/physical disabilities. Although Ford does not have either, at least not proven in canon, it is possible that his genius could be considered a disability in how high IQ individuals typically are more socially isolated, depressed, anxious, insomnia-ridden from overthinking, and can have troubles with making friends due to likeliness to correct others (*cough* "Grammar, Stanley." *cough), different senses of humor, and being misunderstood. (Source). Plus, we know his polydactyly caused people to outcast him.

People who have already been through abuse. I - and many others - have made the point that it's common fan interpretation that Ford's father was abusive to a point. At the very least, I have argued in previous posts that Filbrick taught Ford that "value = what money you make from smarts". He was, after all, supposed to be "their ticket outta this (New Jersey poor neighborhood) dump", right? Assuming this is true, well... Ford was already taught from a young age that his value was in how others could use him. Filbrick may have primed him to be abused by Bill, unintentionally.

Okay, so we've established step one of adult grooming, and how Ford fits 99% of these criteria at least for the type of victim an abuser targets. What about step two?

Step Two: Gaining Trust

Honestly, I don't need to elaborate much on this part. I'll just quote the article I sourced before, because any Gravity Falls fan will instantly know how this applies to Bill and Ford:

"Groomers can be hard to notice as they will do their best to appear safe and genuine. This makes it hard to identify them. Over time, they will gradually manipulate the victim to be dependent on them."

"While gaining trust, the groomer may use flattery like offering gifts, admiration, and sharing “secrets” with the person to make them feel special. The groomer may do favours for someone. The groomer may gradually begin asking for favours in return, generally starting small. This may be the start of a romantic relationship or a simple friendship."

"Groomers may share secrets with their target in order to make them feel special and trusted by the groomer. This also may make the target feel they need to share secrets of their own, which the groomer may later use to increase their power over the target."

I mean... *gestures at all of Ford's journals and interactions with Bill in The Book of Bill*. Bill couldn't get any more textbook abuser/adult groomer than this. He praised Ford, shared secrets with him, made him feel so special, etc.

Step Three and Four: Filling a Need and Isolation

These steps are quite self-explanatory. The abuser (Bill) convinces the victim that they need them. "You need me to complete your portal project, Ford.". "No one else understands you, Ford.". And then comes the isolation, and where we'll touch on Stan and McGucket.

"Groomers will likely try to isolate the victim from their loved ones. This may be evident in the way they refuse to meet family and loved ones. Or perhaps they bad mouth them, or try to point out to the victim that the groomer is the only one who really and truly cares for them. Being isolated from friends and family makes it harder for the victim to notice warning signs."

Bill convinced Ford he didn't need anyone but him. He convinced him to isolate more and more; to push his brother away, to push McGucket away, until Ford had literally no support network, making him prime prey for Bill to take advantage of.

Step Five+: The Real Abuse

This step can manifest in many different ways. After reading the article sourced above, there are so many similarities to what Bill did to Ford. I'll list them here:

Continuing isolation.

Destroying self-esteem.

Physical abuse (leaving Ford with bloody knuckles, making his body hurt, leaving him on top of the Shack in the freezing cold, etc).

Seek to take control over victims (in Bill's case, the fantasy/supernatural metaphor of possession is just that: a metaphor for control).

Normalizing behaviors that aren't normal ("Here, I'll just possess you more and more, I swear giving me complete control is normal!").

Making the victim feel helpless.

And many, many more. Folks, I'm not going to lie: I would not be surprised if Hirsch and other writers involved in Bill's creation read a manual on how abusers work (or maybe experienced it in their own lives, but hopefully not, as I wouldn't wish that on anyone) to write Bill. Because Bill does these steps on cue to Ford. He is a textbook abuser.

So... What Does This Say About Bill and Ford?

The dark humor in Bill's writing is that he portrays his shadowy side as lighthearted, but there's a very, very dark underbelly of abuse in everything he does. Even the way we interact with Bill as viewers/readers in real life is a microcosm of his abuse. Look at how he's written:

"Oh, I look like an innocent, funny little triangle guy. Don't mind me. *Does something horrifying and awful.* Oh, I'm just funny, trust me, look how sad I am for losing Ford, and how I drink about it, and I'm all sad here in interdimensional therapy, and I kept a speck of dust from my dimension in my hat! I swear I'm really regretful!"

Text in point: "I'm just a rascal! A funny little guy! But everyone seems to think I'm "evil" or "a sociopath".

He wants to be a hero, or a star, as he calls it. He shows himself on a magazine cover, as someone talked to in a live show, as the leader of the Henchmaniacs (which I'd argue are also either are abusers or victims themselves based on how Bill describes them in the book), etc.

But he's a liar. He's a conman. He's a dream demon; a demon that has power over dreams, but dreams are just that: lies and illusions. Like I said, even the Axolotl thinks so:

"Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can't return. Says he's happy, he's a liar. Blame the arson for the fire."

What that line and this screenshot means, is that Bill is 100% to blame for the destruction he wreaks. He didn't "show people the truth". He burned them alive because they didn't worship him as the hero he wanted so badly to be, and he blamed it on, "Well, they just didn't GET what I was trying to tell them.". And the worst part about Bill, is he knows deep down he's to blame; that he has the blood of millions on his hands. But he literally tries to describe it as "liberating" his kind. Ford knows this, too, and tells us directly in The Book of Bill that the book itself is a sham:

Key quotes being: "It will become whatever it must to deceive you, to pull you in." and "DO NOT BELIEVE A WORD".

Honestly, there's only one line Bill ever said that was truth:

Yet, even though Bill knows he's a monster, he never stops. He's had millions of years to change, yet he hasn't. And I doubt he ever will. That's why the Theraprism is effective: it's a jail of his own making. He could get out if he wanted to get better and worked at it. He's always had the key to unlock his cage. But he won't. Because he can't admit fault.

So instead of fixing himself, he keeps wanting to drag others into his cage with him. Like a man drowning who'll grasp onto anyone else struggling, pretending he's helping them float together, only to push them down to keep himself above the water. But in the Theraprism, he has no one to pretend to. He's a "theatre kid without a stage", like Ford said. A little emotional leech without someone to latch onto. He's just alone, like he was after he destroyed his entire dimension.

As for Ford, he champions the story of a victim who regained his power and heals through the love of his family. If you read his and Bill's story from the perspective of abuser vs. victim, it's the story of a man who was isolated, taken advantage of, nearly destroyed... but then wrests his power back and chases after his abuser for thirty years for revenge. However, it's telling that it's not through his thirst for vengeance that Bill is defeated, but through his brother's love for him and the rest of their family.

I mean, look at the main villains of Gravity Falls: someone who sacrificed his family (Bill), someone who was selfish and didn't give a crap about his family (Gideon), etc. And the heroes: people who self-sacrificed for their family. All the Pines wrestle with this theme, from things as small as Dipper giving up a let's be honest very minimal chance at Wendy to make Mabel happy and win Waddles at the fair, Mabel destroying her puppet show to save Dipper from Bill, Ford self-sacrificing and getting tortured for I don't even know how many days locked up with Bill during Weirdmageddon to protect others, and Stan performing the ultimate sacrifice in the finale for his family and world.

Bill is the antithesis to the Pines: a selfish abuser who killed his family. And the Pines are heroes because they learn the moral lesson of the story: to give up pride and selfishness to forgive, self-sacrifice, and love your family and do anything for them, despite your trauma or prior disagreements. They could have just as easily ended up like Bill: awful because of a refusal to admit fault or self-sacrifice. But they don't, because they learned what Bill never did.

That's also why this show focuses so much on the theme of past vs. future and letting go; the Pines learned to let go and accept change, Bill never did. He's stuck. Funny how time stops whenever Bill shows up in the real world, huh? /symbolism wink

And that's why Gravity Falls - and Ford and Bill's story especially - is a champion metaphor for abusive relationships and healing from them.

#gravity falls #the book of bill #the book of bill spoilers #ford pines #stanford pines #bill cipher #tw: abuse #tw: grooming #gravity falls analysis

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sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months ago

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Be still my foolish heart

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 10

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, angst (resolution at end), discussion about money and struggling financially, continuing sexual thoughts, MINORS DNI, sad matt (as if that needs a warning)

a/n: Sorry for the sporadic posting everyone, the past few weeks months, years have been crazy. Here is the resolution for the spicy angst in chapter 9! I hope you all enjoy.

w/c: 6k

Running your thumb over the crease you’d inadvertently made in the page, you worried your bottom lip as you tried to press it flat beneath the pad of your finger. This book was a rental and you could NOT afford to pay for it if it wasn't returned in pristine condition. Bills had been piling up this semester. In itself, being broke wasn't a new problem. Your inability to cope with said bills, however, very much was.

You'd been treading the poverty line since you'd left for Columbia. School was expensive, your mom wasn't there to buy groceries, and the company managing your gas bill had increased their rates, meaning your previous budget was worthless. The high cost of heating, combined with the fact that your dad was once again flaking on his contributions to your mom's rising medical debt... It was adding up.

Sure, it was stressful. Money was the biggest cause of your anxiety most days, with your difficult curriculum following closely behind. But you'd been coping well enough.

Until your subconscious decided to pile more weight onto your already struggling psyche.

The image of Matt's pompous smirk hovering over you had been haunting you all week. Every time you closed your eyes, his deep rasp rumbled in your ears–praising you for your tenacity, your performance. Even days later, the thought was thrilling. And that made you feel unbelievably guilty.

Though nothing had actually happened between you and Matt, your brain was determined to brand you as an adulterer. Any time you heard from Everett, even if it was just a text, your stomach rolled with intense regret. You felt dirty and ashamed. For needing the thought of another man to get you off, for mentally cheating on Evs while being beneath him, and for exploiting your friendship with Matt by crafting this sinful image of him.

You’d unintentionally dragged your boyfriend onto the emotional rollercoaster you were stuck on, swerving between desperate lust and distant tension without a warning. One day, you’d need to be on top of him, lips locked, and the next you couldn’t stand being within ten feet of each other. After a week of continuous flip-flopping, Everett had reached his limit, telling you sternly to figure out what you wanted before teasing him further. The brief argument only added to the embarrassment you’d been wading in.

Sighing roughly, you pinched the bridge of your nose. Humiliation bubbled in your stomach, churning around your day-to-day anxiety. Your brain felt like it was being slapped around like a tennis ball, jumping between various reasons to spiral. You had no money. You were going to flunk out of school. You were unable to hold a relationship. You'd never be satisfied in love.

Groaning, you rubbed at your temples, the pads of your fingers flickering as your pulse pushed at them. You needed to fucking study, which seemed impossible when your brain would not shut up.

“Doin' ok there, bug?”

The familiar voice startled a shriek from you, your hands flying to grab the counter as you nearly toppled out of your seat. Wide eyes flying up from your textbook, you felt heat rush to your cheeks when you saw Foggy standing there. Foggy's brows were raised, an amused smile directed at your frazzled state.

“Jesus Christ, Fog. You're gonna give me a heart attack one day.” You grumbled, shaking off the lingering fear and smoothing your clothes in an attempt to regain your dignity.

“You sure that day isn't today?” The blond asked innocently, eyes twinkling with the jest.

Huffing, you raised the heavy text you'd been pretending to read, hiding behind it as you muttered, “Shut up.”

Foggy cackled, striding behind the counter and hopping onto a stool. “What’s so interesting? You clearly didn't hear me come in.”

“This stupid Contracts assignment.” You huffed, absently running your thumb over the corner again. “I can’t get through it and, trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Hamer v. Sidway?” Foggy clarified. When you nodded, a sly grin slid over his face. “Well, wouldn’t you be lucky to have a certain handsome friend who has already digested that opinion! If only you were in a study group with him…”

You shook your head as Foggy tapped chin thoughtfully, a smile breaking through your stony expression despite yourself. “Oh are we disbanding the 3 Musketeers? I wasn’t notified.”

“You missed the public hearing.” Foggy shrugged, sighing with exaggerated weariness. “With no opposing testimony, the vote was unanimous.”

“Mr. Nelson, you aren’t suggesting that I missed 10 days worth of public notice, are you?” You raised an eyebrow, tension rolling off your shoulders in Foggy’s presence. “Because I’d have to live under a rock to overlook those signs in my most frequented areas.”

“Oh woe is me!” Foggy crooned mournfully. “Losing my beloved Musketeers to a default judgment.”

“Your Musketeers?” You scoffed out a laugh.

“Well, as the founder of our little band of misfits–” Foggy puffed out his chest, barely stifling his grin as you protested incredulously.

“Excuse you!” Crossing your arms, you forced a scowl onto your face as Foggy giggled beside you. “The 3 Musketeers of Columbia will go down in history as nothing short of a team effort. Mark my words, Franklin: if you so much as insinuate–”

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Foggy’s laughter was infectious. “Ok, ok! I concede. This ruse was a test of your loyalty, my fair lady. One that you’ve passed excellently, I might add.”

“A test of my loyalty? I’m not the one trying to break up the crew, Fog.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your smile most definitely undermining your ability to look threatening.

Averting his gaze as his expression softened a bit, Foggy kicked his feet like a child on a swing, scuffing them lightly on the ground at the low point of their respective arc. “Fair enough. It just…you haven’t been around this week. Thought maybe you’d found better people to study with.” All humor had drained from his face, his brow slightly pinched with anxiety as he continued to avoid eye contact.

Frowning in lieu of a response, you stood from your seat at the counter, snatching Foggy in a bear hug. Relievingly he chuckled, leaning into the embrace. Resting your chin on his beanie-clad head, you squeezed him tightly. ‘Listen here, Nelson. You and Matt mean too much to me for me to even consider replacing you as study group co-founders. Not to mention that 99% of the other students here don’t hold a candle to the pair of you in any respect.”

Releasing your friend from your hold, you dragged the empty stool closer. Your shoulders brushed Foggy’s as you plopped back on top of the chair. “I promise, Fog. I’m not leaving the group.” Your voice was grave as you made the vow, the seriousness apparently escaping the man next to you who, of course, laughed.

“Christ, bug, you make it sound like we’re a middle school band on the verge of collapse.”

“And what if we are, Fog?” You threw a hand over your chest dramatically. “You know your heart ain’t in it anymore. And Matt’s kazoo work hasn’t been the same since the tour.” Breaking off into a forced voice crack, you chewed the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling when Foggy snorted.

“Ok, Matt would never step foot into a room with a kazoo in it, let alone select it as his instrument of choice.” He grimaced, no doubt imagining the assault of a kazoo on his roommate’s delicate senses.

“Well you’re lead vocals and I’m tambourine, so he doesn’t have many other options.” You explained, no longer hiding your grin as Foggy cackled.

“I’m vocals!? Ugh, we’re DOOMED!” He groaned, running a hand over his throat as if it was sore from imaginary over-exertion.

“Are we? I’ve heard legends of the Siren deep in the showers of Jay Hall.” You smirked as his jaw dropped.

“Oh that little–Doesn’t he know that making false promises is, like, unholy or something?” Foggy scoffed with embarrassed frustration. “I should’ve known he’d tell you. He can’t keep anything from you.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the reference to your and Matt’s close relationship. Your brain began to spiral as you remembered the image of his smile hovering above you.

“Hey, I'm not actually mad, bug. It’s alright.” Foggy elbowed you, studying your face.

Nodding uneasily, you gave a weak chuckle. “I know, Fog. Sorry.”

“Did Matt do something stupid? Is that why you haven’t been around?” Foggy asked, turning his body to face you as his concern piqued.

“No!” You squeaked out in a rush, shaking your head furiously. “No, he didn’t do anything, Fog. I’ve just been stressed about school and my mom and stuff. I’ll make more of an effort to tell you guys when I need space, ok?”

The long-haired man didn’t seem to fully buy the excuse, but he swiveled back towards the counter. “Mmmhmm. Sounds plausible, but you know you can always come to me if something happens, right?”

There was clearly more to that promise than he was trying to let on, but you were too frazzled to decipher what the hidden meaning was. “Course, Fog. You too. With me, I mean.”

Knocking his shoulder against yours, Foggy’s nose crinkled as he smiled. “I know, jitterbug. Now stop worrying over me. My ego will get too big.”

Snorting at the thought, you linked your arm with his. “I’m going to ignore the slightly insulting nickname in favor of asking you how it went with Marcia the other day.”

“Marci, not Marcia. And it was AWESOME!” Foggy squealed, face lighting up as he began recounting his evening with her the weekend before.

Homework entirely forgotten, you were enraptured as Foggy animatedly walked you through his eventful evening with his bombshell classmate. Ignoring the fact that he was certainly embellishing the story for your benefit, but he'd clearly had a good time.

Just as he began to narrate how the night eventually ended, your phone buzzed.

“Saved by the bell!” You shuddered comically, smirking when Foggy scoffed in offense. Flipping open your phone, you tried not to cackle in Jen's ear as Foggy pouted beside you. “Hey Jen, what's up?”

“Did you see the email?” Glossing over pleasantries, Jen was obviously annoyed, sparking a rush of worry in your gut.

“Um, no? What happened?” You frowned, chewing the inside of your cheek as your brain began to spiral over the numerous mistakes you could've made that would result in a pissed off roommate.

“Our building won't have heat for the rest of the month.” She grumbled, definitely rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

“The rest of the MONTH? You're fucking kidding.” Anxiety quickly turning to shared frustration, you held up a finger when Foggy looked at you quizzically.

Your building was ancient and the baseboard heaters were probably older than you, which meant they'd stood no chance against the bitter New York weather this winter. The heat had sporadically given out over the past few months, resulting in half hearted promises from the owner about new systems being installed–so this news wasn't necessarily surprising, but that didn't mean you wanted to deal with it.

“Super wanted us to know so we could 'make the necessary arrangements'. Piece of shit.” She sulked.

“Fuck, Jen, what are we gonna do? I can't afford a space heater.” Scrubbing a hand over your face, the resilient debt-induced panic that had faded to the back of your mind reared its mangey head.

“Well, good news and bad news. Good news is Oscar's parents are willing to loan us a pair that they have in their garage so we won't need to buy or rent any.” She trailed off, clearly not excited about the latter half of the plan.

“C'mon Jen, break it to me.” You huffed, not at all willing to let her ignore the less fortunate piece of the situation. If you wanted to prevent your impending nervous breakdown for another few weeks, you'd need to act on this issue immediately.

“Wewon'tbeabletograbthemuntilaftertheconference.” She muttered in a rush.

Drawing in a breath to extend your waning patience, you asked again. “Jen, in English please.”

An uneasy groan came across the line before she clarified. “We won't be able to grab the space heaters until after the conference.”

Shit. That was bad news. Most, if not all, of Columbia's 3Ls were at the Tri-State Justice Conference in New Jersey until Friday—three days from now.

“I'm sorry, but we both need the attendance credit and—” Jen explained, sounding like she was about to cry.

“Hey, it's ok, babes. I'll figure it out. Don't worry, ok? Just enjoy the conference as much as you can and I'll find a place to stay.”

“I'm really sorry, I—” She stammered.

“I promise I'll be ok.” Your throat felt tight, your efforts to stave off a breakdown over this clearly failing. ”I'll talk to you soon.“

Hanging up the phone, you dropped your head into your hands, digging your fingers into the bridge of your nose in an attempt to collect yourself.

Hesitantly, Foggy called your name. “Everything ok?”

“Uh, not really...but when is it ever?” You chuckled bitterly, your words muffled by your palms.

Two arms wound around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug that mirrored the one you'd given Fog earlier. Your face met his sturdy shoulder, and it took every ounce of your resolve to not let yourself dissolve into tears.

“What happened, bug?” Foggy asked, holding you tightly as you inhaled shakily.

“Apparently our heat went out. Again. And, uh, I don't really know what to do, Fog.” You admitted, craning your neck to look at him. “Everett, Jen, and Oscar are all out of town and I–”

“You can stay in our room.” Foggy stated simply, as if it was the obvious solution to the problem. “We don't have much, but we DO have heat.”

“Fog, you don't have to–” You protested, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“I know I don't have to, I want to! It'll be a study group sleepover!!” He rubbed a circle into your back before taking his seat once more.

And that was that. The long-haired boy had already turned back to the book he’d pulled out while you were on the phone, considering the matter resolved. Sitting there dumb founded, you stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to yell “Psych!” and leave you to sort your own shit out. But he didn’t.

“Do Frodo and Sam kinda give you a gay vibe?” He asked suddenly, jarring you out of your anxious stance.

“What?” You blinked, trying to process the jump to a completely different topic while you were still thinking about a sleepover in Matt and Foggy’s shared room.

Giving a shrug, Foggy turned the page. “I mean, they’re soulmates for sure. But sometimes it seems like Tolkien did not mean for it to be platonic, ya know?” Glancing up at you with a grin, he giggled. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Fog,” You chuckled in exasperation, shaking your head at his unfailing positivity.

“What?” Raising the book as he threw his arms up, Foggy’s smirk made you laugh harder. “See this is precisely why you need to sleepover. Matt never finds me this funny.”

“You were serious about that?” You asked hesitantly, fisting the cuff of your sweater sleeve in one hand, toying with a loose thread along its edge.

“Uh, yah? Why?” Foggy snorted, still reading and no doubt hosting a heated internal debate over one or more hobbits’ sexualities.

“I mean..I dunno, wouldn’t that be…weird?” Heat was clawing at your face, your insecurities making you cringe sheepishly.

“Ah, I suppose I’ve neglected to consider all the facts.” Sticking a folded gum wrapper in the joint of his book, he let the cover flap shut, crossing his arms as he pondered. “You are a girl, and the latest studies suggest a correlation between your gender and high levels of 'cooties'.”

Expression utterly serious, you couldn't help but dissolve into giggles as Foggy tapped a finger on his chin in deep contemplation. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

“I'm not sure I do. Unless you DO in fact have cooties. In which case Matt and I would need to draft a contract to distribute liability in the event that we CATCH your cooties.”

“You know what,” You laughed. “Let's all be honest about who is catching 'cooties' from who. I have fantastic hygiene, counselor.”

“You're right. It's Murdock we need to worry about.”

Looking at each other solemnly, you and Foggy broke at the same time, cackling over the ridiculous notion.

“Of course I was serious, dude!“ Foggy kicked your shin lightly as you wiped a tear from your cheek. ”Did you really think I was just going to let you freeze to death? That Matt would allow that to happen?”

“No,” You murmured, tucking the toes of your sneakers behind the legs of your stool. “I guess not.”

Mouth squishing to one side with his skepticism, Foggy leaned closer to your hunched form. “In case I am not making myself clear, let me lay it out for you, jitterbug. Neither Matt nor I would ever object to you staying over if you wanted to, let alone needed to for your own safety. We care about you and we would never jeopardize a fellow Musketeer.”

Nodding bashfully, you linked your pinkies together, dropping them into your lap. “Ok. Thanks, Fog.”

“Anytime, bug. How much longer are you chained to this counter?” He frowned at the offending furniture with distaste, laying a palm over his stomach. “I'm getting hungry.”

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at the clock behind you. “About another hour. But you are more than welcome to venture out for a meal before that. Only one of us is contractually obligated to be here.”

“NO MAN LEFT BEHIND” Foggy declared, saluting you before turning back to his book diligently.

Biting your cheek to stifle a grin, you turned back to your own homework, grateful for the two men keeping you sane as your life crumbled into chaos.

Swallowing as your throat constricted with nerves, your knuckles hovered an inch away from the nicked wooden door. Your adrenaline-soaked subconscious was buzzing, telling every cell to enter “flight” mode, but your feet felt glued to the dingy carpet.

What are you so afraid of? You chastised yourself. It's just Fog and Matt. Not like you're about to have open heart surgery or something.

Tilting your entire body forward until your knuckles brushed the surface of the door, you'd barely made a sound before it opened, revealing a confused Matt and a beaming Foggy.

Greeting you simultaneously, Matt's perplexed tone didn't match his roommate's joyful one in the slightest. “Are you ok?”

Despite being evidently baffled, Matt ushered you into the room.

“Um, yes? Why…” Looking to Foggy questioningly, you watched as the long-haired boy grimaced apologetically. “Ah, I see someone did not fill you in on the situation.”

“I forgot!” Foggy smiled sheepishly.

Exhaling with a frustrated huff, you shifted from foot to foot as the ball of nervous energy fueling you tumbled around your body. “Um, my building has no heat for the rest of the week so Foggy said I could stay here? But if that's not ok with you–” You took a small pace backwards, giving you the option to completely eject from the situation, but Matt carefully reached for your arm.

His fingers brushed over your wrist, gently clasping around your arm. At his cautious touch, the air flew out of your lungs, your eyes widening as they focused on his face. Lips turned down ever so slightly, his brow was furrowed with his classic Matt Murdock concern. Whether you'd given yourself a papercut or received news of your mother's recurrence, Matt's worry and desire to fix whatever he could was etched deeply in his expression.

“Of course that's ok, sweetheart. The heat's out again? Did they say they were going to replace the baseboards?” As he asked his follow-up questions, his free hand came up to cup your other elbow, until he was practically cradling you in his arms.

Sighing, you didn't fight him as his grip tightened, morphing into a full body embrace. Hands spread over your back, Matt's chin landed over your head like it belonged there. Anxiety fading, you shrugged against him with a bitter laugh. “Sure, but they say that every time.”

Planting a kiss against your hairline, and coincidentally reigniting the swarm of murderous butterflies in your stomach, Matt withdrew his arms and stepped aside to wave you into the room. His mouth was still curved into a frown, the wheels in his head clearly turning as you set down your backpack and hopped onto Foggy's mattress.

“Thank god you're here, bug. I desperately need someone to read through my legal writing assignment. She only drops the two lowest and I need a decent grade in this class.” Foggy rummaged through his bag, yanking out a few pages filled with illegible handwriting and margin doodles, dropping them in your lap.

With a giggle, you made a show of copying Foggy's movements, dropping the assignment back into his possession. “Yah, sorry bud but you're going to need to read that to me if you want my help.”

“Oh come on, my handwriting isn't THAT bad.” Foggy protested, squinting at the essay.

“It might not be the worst print in the world, but I'm not a grade school teacher. I'm not practiced at–” You explained, smiling innocently as Foggy grew more affronted by the accusation.

“Woah, woah, woah, GRADE school–”

“Ok, you're right, 7th grade maybe?” You shrugged, laughing as the blond shoved you in response. The two of you were grinning at each other when Matt's question burst out of him.

“Have you complained to the board of health? Or the HPD?”

Meeting Foggy's gaze, you both blinked owlishly before turning to face Matt. The dark-haired boy was staring blankly at the pair of you, his face flitting between dark concern and pure fury.

“What?” You asked, eyes drawn to Matt's fists as they flexed at his sides.

“About the heat. It's..it's not safe for your landlord to be leaving his tenants without heat. Not when it's this cold.”

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy interrupted placatingly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. ”That's why she's here, remember? Problem solved.“

“Until it goes out again next month.” Matt growled.

Squeezing Foggy's leg, you shot him a knowing look. “Matt, I'll call HPD tomorrow when they open. Promise. You can sit with me to listen, if you'd like.”

Pursing his lips, Matt considered the suggestion. With a weary exhale, he nodded, his fingers sliding out of their rigid curls. “Ok.”

“Right, well, now that we've settled that, let's listen to Foggy read his essay aloud—since neither of us will be able to look it over otherwise.”

Grumbling, Foggy flopped onto his stomach, resolutely ignoring your chuckles as he cleared his throat. “Prepare to be dazzled—”

As much as you wanted to help your friend out with his assignment, Foggy’s words flew into one ear and out the other, briefly tapping your brain like a small steel sphere on a pinball bumper. Once you'd seemingly put his mind at ease, Matt had joined the two of you on the opposite side of the room, Snuggling in close and sandwiching you between the pair of men.

On any other day, the position would be comforting. Your limbs cloaked with their combined body heat, their soothing voices overriding the anxious buzzing in your brain. Today, the invisible swarm of bees in your skull only became more enraged. You felt trapped, cornered by your friends and your own tattered feelings.

Matt's shoulder flanked yours, his body pressed in so tightly to you that the thin hairs on your cheeks and neck fluttered with his every exhale. A small vibration in your pocket pushed you over the edge. Had Everett finally responded to your apology? Was he still upset? How could you accept his forgiveness when you were practically sitting in Matt's lap?

Shifting your weight uncomfortably, you tried to keep yourself separate from Matt, digging your shoulder into the wall rather than leaning it against his chest. Another buzz from your pocket had you gritting your teeth. It was too much, it was all too much. Foggy was talking so loud and the temperature of this room was stifling and how on earth could he sleep in these sheets–they must have the thread count of a fast food napkin.

Choking in a breath, you dove off the bed. “It sounds great so far, bubs. I have to check my phone real quick, someone is calling me.” Nearly toppling over in your haste to escape the room, the door shook as it closed roughly against its frame. Shakily pulling your phone from your jeans, you opened it, trying to get your breathing under control. It was like you'd been shoved underwater with a dwindling oxygen tank–given the sudden atmospheric pressure and your inability to take a full breath.

One text was from your father, reminding you to pay the most recent medical bill. I'll get right on that. You rolled your eyes, deleting the message.

The other message was from Everett. Your body went rigid as you read his name, your finger inching towards the button that would open it up, revealing whatever he'd sent you. As the screen flashed, pixels shifting to spell out the five words he'd deemed important enough to send, your heart momentarily stopped.

Talk when I’m back.

Nothing else. No indication of how angry he was, what the talk would be about, if you would still be together in a week. Fuck.

Behind you, the door creaked open, a worried Foggy appearing from the shadows. ”Everything ok?“

”Yep!” You squeaked, snapping your phone shut with a force that made you grimace. “All good.”

Sending your friend a smile that you hoped looked more honest than it felt, you shuffled back into the room, sensing that the energy had changed. “Sorry, just Everett and my dad bothering me.”

In your absence, Matt had returned to his bed. His posture was gracefully straight, a book lying across his lap beneath his fingers. If his stance hadn't clued you into his mood, the lenses now propped on the bridge of his nose had. Something was up, but you weren't in any state to handle both of your emotions right now. Foggy gave a weak smile, hopping back onto his bed.

“Matt pointed out that you might not want to think about homework all night. I actually rented some movies on my way home! I was thinking we could watch one.”

“That sounds fun, Fog. Matt are you–”

“No.” His answer was curt, pitched low. He must've sensed your surprise because the edges of his expression immediately softened. “I have a headache. Don't want to spoil the fun.”

“I'm sorry! We probably aren't helping. Did you want us to go to the lounge?” You asked, fingers grasping for your bag in case you needed to switch locations.

“No need. I'll put my headphones on if I need to.” Matt's lips flickered with the barest hint of a smile before settling back into the neutral expression he'd originally had on.

“Let us know if you change your mind, buddy.” Foggy chirped, opening his laptop. “Ok, bug. Take your pick.”

With a wave of one hand, Foggy displayed three DVD cases as if they were a winning poker hand. “We've got: National Treasure, Happy Feet, and The Ring.”

“What an eclectic bunch.” You snorted. “Scary movie first, Nick Cage last. We'll scream, cry, and laugh in that order.”

“Genius. She's a genius!” Foggy remarked, cracking the first plastic sleeve open. “This girl is going places, Murdock.”

Matt smirked, but said nothing, his fingers still dancing over the raised dots on the pages.

Lying on his side, one ear turned out to the rest of the room, Matt's own skin prickled sympathetically as you rolled over on the grimy carpet–each plastic fiber screeching as it dragged across your skin. The sound made him cringe, far too similar to fingernails on a chalkboard.

It was late. You and Foggy had indeed made it through all three movies, only pausing to run to the bathroom and the corner market for more snacks. Matt couldn't help but feel like he was intruding, eavesdropping on a sweet moment between friends and existing where he wasn't welcome. While Foggy was glued to his computer screen, your attention was sporadic, heart rate spiking whenever he so much as shifted on his bed.

You were paying more mind to him than the entertainment you were pretending to enjoy. Which was irritatingly amusing given how little you'd wanted to do with him recently. Something deep inside him was crying out in warning, telling him just how close you were to slipping through his fingers and disappearing forever. But how could he steady his grip when every pump of his heart had you spooking like a prey animal.

The rustling of fabric from your body on the floor nettled at his conscience. Your breathing was shallow, your vocal chords emitting small aggravated groans that should've been imperceptible, if Matt was a lucky man. Inches away from his bed, you were writhing in discomfort, lying awake just as he was—unlike Foggy who was snoring away, dead to the world. That couldn't be helping your frustration, it sure wasn't doing him any favors.

The tiniest of sighs slipped through your lips, wafting the scent of salt into his space. Frowning in concern, he set aside the pity party he'd been throwing himself and swallowed his nerves.

“Can't sleep?” His voice was barely a whisper, but you startled anyway, shooting up into a seated position.

“Christ, Matt.” You chuckled feebly.

“Language.” He joked, lips curving as you laughed again.

“Forgive me, Saint Matthew. I was taken by surprise. Thought you might be that little girl from the ring coming to get me.”

“Is my voice that feminine?“ He wrinkled his nose, feeling a bubble of pride when your heartbeat began to slow, his distractions working for now.

“No, but when you're expecting a ghost, everything seems ghastly.” You shuddered.

A jumble of words sat at the tip of his tongue, an accusation he needed to make if he wanted to get any rest tonight. It was as though you were expecting it, aware you'd done something wrong. Awaiting your punishment without a word.

“You don't have to sleep on the floor, you know. My mattress won't bite.” Avoiding confrontation for as long as he could, he attempted for another quip. Unfortunately, you'd picked up on his barely concealed aggravation, if your flinch was any indication.

Huffing out a laugh, you craned your neck to face him. “I know, Matt. But I'm not going to put you out like that. You didn't even know I was coming.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your heat?” He couldn't stop himself. He needed to know. He needed to understand why you were pushing him away.

“I mean, I only found out this afternoon–”

“I could’ve helped you report them.” He explained, still thoroughly confused.

“You still can!” Your muscles creaked as your arms tightened around your shins, instinctively defending yourself from his questioning.

“You just..showed up. And I had no idea what had happened.” His voice sounded hollow, even to him.

“I figured Fog would ask you, I'm sorry.” That was truthful, but it still didn't answer anything.

“So you're still avoiding me, then.” Your breath was cut short, fingers digging into your flesh. His own body was eerily still, trying to hold the immense guilt he'd been feeling back until the conversation was over. Until he knew what he'd done.

“Matt, I'm not—”

“No? Then why does it feel like you're trying to constantly escape me?” Snapping his mouth shut before his words revealed just how hurt he really was, he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“What are you—”

“When I hugged you earlier, you went all stiff. You’re clearly upset about something on your phone, but you refuse to tell me about it. And you keep calling me 'Matt'.” His throat constricted, fists clenching around his blankets.

“That's your name–” You reasoned desperately, but your heart gave you away. He wasn't crazy. It was deliberate.

“Not to you!” He hissed. Sitting up slowly, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to force the pain in his skull to subside. “You always..you used to call me Matty or trouble or bubs. Recently, I've just been Matt. I just..please tell me what I did so I can fix it?”

“Matt,” You sounded mournful. Defensive stance abandoned, you crept closer to his bed, falling into a sloppy heap beside him, still on the floor. “Trouble, you didn't do anything. I've been jumpy and in my head recently because of my own shit, not because of you.”

The steady thump of your pulse echoed in his ears. It didn't waver. Not once.

Blinking rapidly, Matt shoved his hands against his face again, this time to rub away the tears forming before you could see them.

Reaching one hand up, you brushed a knuckle against his rightmost calf. “I'm so sorry that I hurt you. It was not intentional. I care about you so much and I...” You trailed off, drawing in a ragged breath before speaking again. “I care about you. I always will.”

“I care about you too.” Tangling your hand with his, Matt ducked his head, feeling incredibly exposed. “You scared me.”

“I'm sorry.” There it was again. The consistent beat of your heart. Even as the patter of rain. He squeezed your fingers.

“I know.” Trailing a thumb over the back of your hand, he felt another icy current of fear in his veins. “And I’m serious about reporting your building. We can always host you but what if you get snowed in or something? If you’re stuck there with no heat..I don’t want that to happen to you, bug. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Grabbing his bed frame with your free hand, you hauled yourself up and onto his mattress, collapsing into his open arms. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I've already forgiven you. But I just needed you to know that it matters. That you matter.”

“Fuck, trouble. You're gonna make me cry harder than that stupid bird movie.” You laughed, the puffs of air tickling his neck as they left your lungs.

“That one did seem especially sad.” He hummed.

“Don't know why they had to rip my fuckin' heart out. Seems a little unnecessary.” You scoffed, body slowly melting against him as he rubbed circles over your back.

“Definitely unnecessary.” He agreed, loosening his grip on you. “You should get some sleep before classes tomorrow.”

He started to unwind from you, intending to take your place on the floor, but you caught his waist with your arms, tipping you both onto the mattress. “If I'm not sleeping on the floor, neither are you, bubba.”

With a single hand, you grabbed the spare blanket off the floor, moving away from him as you bundled yourself up, a happy exhale tumbling out of you as you relaxed into the cocoon. Though you seemed to have worked through whatever mental block had existed before, Matt wasn't quite convinced.

“Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You wouldn't.” Was your sleepy response. “Besides, if that little bitch crawls out of Foggy's computer screen, she can take you first.”

A startled laugh escaped him and he shook his head. “Sure she can, bug. Sleep well.”

“You too, Matty.”

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