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lyraoftheevergreens · 4 months

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The Realms Enchantress

Chapter 2

NSFW, minors do not engage

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader!Niece, Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Female!OC,

Summary: For years Daemon never had a care in the world just, sex, wine and a good battle. With the exception of his favorite niece. His little dragon he called her. He swore to be there for her and he got himself exiled when she needed him the most. Now, he returns from war at the step stones and is determined to get her back. No matter the cost.

Warnings: Targaryen Inscest, mentions of sex, oral female and male receiving, talk of nudity, mentions of death and blood, mother murdered, dead babies, depression, periods, vulgar language.

Authors Note: Welp, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I might as well tell you. I’m a complete whore for Daemon and that truly shows through this. I hope you all enjoy my slutty little works.

This is edited to a degree, I apologize for any errors in advanced. I tried my best.

Word Count: 5,542; sorry, got a little carried away

Tag List: Open

Chapter 1

2 years and some moons went by after y/n’s name day now 8 and 10 years of age a tourney is called in celebration of the babe in her mother’s womb. Celebration of the kings heir that has yet to been born. Your father swears it will be a boy. So hopeful that he is celebrating his arrival before your mother’s labors have even begun.

Your father gives his thanks and speech to commence the start of the tourney and alerts the people that your mother’s labors have begun. You sat with your family in the viewing area next to Rhaenyra and Alicent when Daemon approaches the viewing box, “Princess’ lady Hightower. Here to watch me win?” He said with his usual smug expression.

“We will see how true your words remain.” Y/n speaks first.

“You shall see then.”

He goes on to pick his opponent, Gwayne Hightower, Alicents older brother. She becomes visibly nervous when Daemon picks him. It is when Daemon un horses him that you think she is going to burst out crying in fear for her brother. Daemon then makes his way back to you,” Lady Alicent, I am all but certain I can win these games but having your favor shall ensure it.” He says to her holding out his jousting stick. You and Rhaenyra were in shock, you hurt more so. Every tourney he asked for your favor now he ask for hers. When you took your seat you noticed the maester approaching your father. You sat the tourney for as long as you could but once the murder began you decided to take your leave. You went to snack tables and grabbed an apple where you were met with your uncle. “You’re leaving my tourney?” He spoke first.

“No, taking a break from the murder. Besides it’s not your tourney, it’s for the babe in my mother’s womb.”

“Unless that babe is born with a cock, I remain heir. Besides, It’s not murder when it’s in the name of the tourney.”

“My apologies, I refuse to watch.”

“Well I hope you return to watch your favorite uncle once more.”

“Perhaps I will.” With that you went your separate ways. Your uncle to the tourney field and you to the viewing. A few moments go past, your uncle is unhorsed and on the floor, “PRINCE DAEMON TARGARYEN WISHES TO CONTINUE IN A CONTEST OF ARMS.” Shouts the announcer. It’s then that you take your leave not wishing to see what happens next.

You made your way to the red keep and once in the halls of the keep all that could be heard were your mother’s screams, you made your way to the room this was coming from. The guards stood at the door would not let you in. You pleaded with them,” please, I wish to comfort my mother through her labors as I have done so through the previous ones.” Unbeknownst to the guards this birth would not be like the previous ones.

Once you entered through the large heavy wooden door your mother’s screams flooded your ears, your father and the hand maids holding your mother down like cattle, the maesters hands inside her womb. Blood everywhere. You stood there in silent shock. It wasn’t until one of the hand maidens alerted your father of your presence that you felt hands grab at your arms and pull you from the room. Your brain unable to process your father yelling at you to leave and for the guards to remove you from the room. “Remove your hands from her!” Yelled Ser Errol, he took you from the guards that had dragged you out the room, you looked up at him with tears streaming from your eyes. He could feel how limp you were. He carried you to your chambers and sat you on your bed. It was then your uncle came in,” You left. I suppose it’s fine due the fact I turned my back on my opponent and lost.” He said with an annoyed tone in his voice. He still wore his armor, he placed his helmet on your clothing chest. It was then that all could be heard was the shouts from the tourney. Your mother’s screams had stoped. You turned your head towards your uncle, tear stained face and shaky voice,”she is dead.”

“Who is dead?” He replied.

“My mother. He killed her.”

“Who killed her!” He shouted with his hand gripping dark sister at his side.

“My father.” Daemon let go of the sword and sat at the chair. “Tell me, what did my brother do.”

“He had the maesters cut the babe from her womb. His hands were inside her. My mother held down like cattle for slaughter. Like some birthing animal. He killed his wife. My mother! MY MOTHER!” It was the that you began yelling and crying hysterically. Daemon rose from his seat and pulled you into him. Your face on the metal on his chest. You began slamming the sides of your fist on it, beating his armored chest. He stood there and took your anger. Rhaenyra entered,” what has happened, is mother alright?” You looked up at Daemon and whispered a silent no. He understood. You walked to Rhaenyra and locked the door to your chambers. You turned to her and began to speak,” I’m so sorry Nyra, mother has passed.” Rhaenyra stood there silently and let her the shock of your words absorb into her. Daemon began to remove his armor and watched the two sisters. “She is dead.”

“Yes.” With that the tears slowly fell from her eyes. And then she broke out into a hysterical sob. You held her close to you, the two of you falling to the floor. You sat and held your sister as she sobbed into you. It was then that your uncle left. Unbeknownst to you at the time that he went in search of his brother. Eventually you and Rhaenyra made your way to the bed and fell asleep in each other’s arms. You both woke in the morning, she left to her chambers and you remained in yours, the maids helped you bathe and dress. You walked with Rhaenyra to Rhaenys is hill. Syrax atop the hill. You both stood in front of the two pyres. Not realizing how long the two of you were stood there till daemon approached Rhaenyra, “they are waiting for you.” He told her in a hushed tone.

“Nyke pendagon lo, during lī dorolvie hours issa lēkia glaesagon, ñuhon kepa finally found biarves”

(I wonder if, during those few hours my brother lived, my father finally found happiness)

“Aōha kepa jorrāelagon ao, tolī than ziry mirre emagon. Se both hen ao”

(Your father needs you, more than he ever has. The both of you)

“Nyke jāhor dōrī sagon nykeā tresy”

(We will never be sons) with that Rhaenyra stepped forward to your father she tried to speak but her voice broke. She looked next to her at her grieving father staring upon his dead wife and son. Her mother and brother. She quickly turned her head.

“Dracarys.” With that, Syrax made his way down the hill and set the pyres aflame. Daemon held you to his chest while you both watched your mother and brother burn.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao kepus, sir tolī than mirre.”

(I need you kepus, now more than ever)

“Nyke’m kesīr.”

(I’m here) he spoke as he held you close.

Everyone retreated to the castle once the ceremony was over. Rhaenyra to her room while you and your father thanked people for coming and encouraged them to feast. You sat with your uncle while he drank his wine. Once it was all over Daemon turned to you,” Nyke līs sir jikagon byka zaldrīzes. Se oktion urnēbagon jorrāelagon issa.” (I must now go little dragon. The city watch needs me.)

“Nyke shifang. Geron issa naejot issa chambers kostilus”

(I understand. Walk me to my chambers please)

“Hen rhinka.”

(Of course)

Daemon offered you his arm. You took it and he escorted you to your chambers. You both entered. Stood there in the center of the room. He held you against his chest. His fingers ran through your hair.

“I must go now.”

“Stay with me.”

“I have a duty to the realm. Keep the streets safe, for the kingdom. For you.”

“I understand, but selfishly I want you to stay.”

“If I could you know I would.”

“I understand. Go, leave.” With this he kissed your forehead and left. Your handmaids undressed you and you changed into your night shift and made your way to Rhaenyras chambers. You entered without knocking and climbed into bed with her. She turned and placed her head on your chest. She cried into you until she fell back asleep. You woke the next morning in Rhaenyras’ bed. You turned to face what you assumed was her but were met with your uncle asleep next to you. You put your head on his chest and he spoke. ”good morning sweet girl.”

“Morning.” You mumbled to him. “Where is Nyra.”

“She is on Syrax. I saw her earlier leaving to the dragon pit. I asked where you were and she informed me you were asleep in her bed.”

“Mmm.” You grumbled. He laid there stroking your hair as you laid with your head on his chest. “Are you going to leave the bed today.” He asked, he spoke gently, with care. “No.” You answered. Your head and body ached with grief. Your eyes burned from all the tears. He left the bed first then proceeded to rip the covers off you. You shoved your face into the pillows, “Daemon.” You grumbled. He wasn’t having any of it as he picked you up into his arms and walked out the doors of Rhaenyras’ room into the halls of the red keep. Your arms around his neck. “Where are we going?” You questioned him. “Hush, don’t worry yourself about it.”

You held onto him, hiding your face in his neck. You heard him bark orders of getting a carriage ready but you didn’t see to whom these orders were being told to. He stood holding you for longer than you thought possible but he never faltered. In time he was notified of a carriage is arrival. He took you out to the carriage and you left his arms to enter the carriage he sat next to you and you held onto his arm resting your head on his shoulder. Soon you arrived at what you realize to be the dragon pit when the driver opens the door to the carriage. Daemon exists while you remain seated.

“No.” Is all you say as he stands waiting for you to follow him.

“That beast of yours misses you.”

“He is fine, take me back to the Keep Daemon.”

“If that were true why is he causing so much trouble for the dragon keepers.”

“Because it is a false belief that we control the dragons.”

“Then go. Set him free.”

“Daemon. Please.” You were practically crying at this point as tears began to form in your eyes.

“dōnus riñītsos, come with me.”

You stayed silent as you got out from the carriage. He held out his hand to help you down when you realized you wore nothing but your night shift and to make matters worse, you were barefoot.

“ I’m not dressed. And my feet are bare.”

“Then I shall continue to carry you.” He states matter of factly. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he carries you like a child. His hands under your bottom holding you up.

He has the dragon keepers bring out Dyrax. He held on to you as they bring out your dragon.

“Gods has he always been so huge. He’s going to be to large for the pit.” You turn your head to look at your dragon “the beast” Daemon likes to call him, he had grown so large in the year since Daemon had last seen him. Dyrax saw Daemon holding you and could probably smell the sadness that over took you. He let out an ear bleeding screech. He was ready to set the whole pit on fire at the sight of his rider in someone’s arms. You asked Daemon to put you down and he refused, walking you to Dyrax.

You put your hand to the dragons face.

“It’s okay my love, Nyke’m okay issa jorrāelagon, nyke’m ȳgha. Ziry’s lentor.”

(I’m okay my love, I’m safe. He’s family)

“Put your hand on him.” You tell Daemon and he does, with one arm holding you to him and the other on the dragon.

“Aōha olvie nykeā magnificent dyni, nyke kostagon ūndegon skoro syt issa niece iksos sīr attached naejot ao.” (You’re quite a magnificent beast, I can see why my niece is so attached to you) Daemon says to the dragon. “Go on, climb in to the saddle.” He tells you and you wrap your arms and legs around him tighter. “No, I refuse. Take me back to bed.” You tell him. “Fine. Hold on tight.” He says and then begins to start his climb up Dyrax. “Daemon! I’ll climb.” You shout, letting go of him and begin to get into the saddle.

“Where are we even going?” You ask. As he begins to take his seat infront of you

“Dragonstone.”

“No. I won’t be able to stay awake for that long of a flight, I’m not well. I just want to sleep please take me back to the castle.”

“I’m taking you to a castle. You’ll be fine.” He says and then shouts to the dragon keepers, “Tepagon issa se fabric ties.” (Give me the fabric ties) they toss it up to him and he catches it.

“I am not an infant.” You speak sternly.

“Then why must you act like one.” He remarks beginning to tie you to him. “If you fall asleep while you are tied to me then I won’t have to worry about you falling to your death, if you die your father will have my head if this beast we are on doesn’t kill me first.”

“Fine.” You say helping him tie you to him.

“Sōvegon Dyrax. Obey issa.” (Fly Dyrax. Obey me.) Daemon spoke to him, but yet your stubborn beast refused to move.

“Rȳbagon naejot zirȳla. Gūrogon īlva naejot zaldrīzes dōron Dyrax.” You told the dragon. And with that he let out a screech and started his accent to the sky.

(Listen to him. Take us to Dragonstone Dyrax)

“Stubborn bastard.” Daemon mumbled making you laugh. You kept your arms wrapped around Daemon and rested your head on his back under his shoulder.

“Why Dragonstone?” You asked him.

“Why no? You are Princess of Dragonstone after all.”

“Nyra needs me.”

“She has the Hightower girl and Syrax, she will be fine.”

“What if it is I who needs her.”

“You have me.”

“For how long?”

“We will see zaldrītsos, I can promise you four days. Possibly more.”

(Little dragon)

“And your precious gold cloakes?”

“I’ve put Ser Harwin in charge while I attend to you.”

“Does anyone know I’ve left with you? Nyra, Ser Errol, my father?”

“I informed Rhaenyra of my plans when I saw her leave her room. Ser Errol is aware and as for your father do you believe he would let me have you to myself?”

“No. Besides he doesn’t leave his chambers so I suppose he wouldn’t notice my absence.” The two of you talked for sometime then eventually you drifted to sleep. After a long nap you woke to the sound of Daemon yelling commands to Dyrax.

“Tegon Dyrax. Naejot se ripo. Listen you stubborn bastard. Jikagon naejot se ripo.” (Land Dyrax. To the pit. Listen you stubborn bastard. Go to the pit.)

“Rybās Dyrax.” You spoke up. (Obey Dyrax.) with that he started to descend to the pit.

“He was almost listening to me.” Daemon mumbled. You kissed his cheek,” oh yes, very close.” You laughed. Once landed the dragon keepers of the island took Dyrax.

“Ziry jorrāelagon naejot ipradagon.” Daemon told the keepers to feed Dyrax, that he had a long flight, as he climbed down the dragon with you still tied on his back.

“Daemon, are you going to untie me.”

“No, I quite enjoy you back here.” He said holding your legs that are wrapped around his waist. The hour was late you noticed as the sun had set.

“What is the hour?” You asked as he walked to the doors of the castle.

“Hour of the eel I believe.”

“Oh quite late. Daemon, if I’m going to tire again I should walk.

“Okay but hold on.” You wrap your arms around his neck as he begins to untie you. Once untied from him you begin to fall to the floor. With an uumph from your lips.

“Thank you. Do you suppose the water is warm?”

“It’s too late to go in, I’ll take you on the morrow.”

“Fine. Your age is getting to you uncle Daemon.” You jest with him.

“Tis not.”

“Tis is.” You say walking away from him.

“Could an old man do this!” He shouts and begins to run towards you. You laugh as he chases you on the sand. He’s much faster than you are and eventually catches you. You scream and laugh, the two of you falling to the sandy floor. “Are you alright?” You ask him in between fits of laughter. “I’m just fine.” He lays there laughing and catching his breath. You sit up and smile down at him.

“I always forget how much I love it here. No politics, no ‘duty to the realm,’ it’s quite lovely. The dark sea.”

“Would you leave Kings Landing? Leave Rhaenyra?”

“Rhaenyra would come with me. But yes, I would.” You said and laid down next to him. Your head on his shoulder. You both laid there looking up at the stars.

“Qēlos.” You whispered. (Star)

“What’s the matter?” Daemon questioned.

“I wish there was a nicer word for star, the Valyrian word for star wouldn’t make a very nice name.”

“A name for whom? A dragon? It’s would fit a dragon quite nicely.”

“No. A girl. A babe. Mine, eventually. Hopefully.”

“I’m sure you will think of something beautiful.”

“I suppose so.”

“You still wish to have children after what you witnessed with your mother?”

“I watched my mother have still born babes and yet I still want many children, a husband who loves me. Our many children will be evidence of the love we have for another. My father let her die. If I wed the proper man, he won’t allow me to die.”

“I wouldn’t let you die.” Daemon whispers to you.

“You’re married.”

“My bronze bitch. Our marriage is unconsummated, it can be annulled.” He said.

You stayed quite laid in the sand when someone came walking down with a torch. Maester Gerold.

“Your graces, I was notified of your arrival. All is well?”

“All is well as can be.” Answered Daemon as he got up, helping you to your feet next.

“You’re in your night clothes princess?” The maester questioned.

“Oh yes. I apologize for my appearance.”

“Not necessary princess. If you will follow me, we have prepared your rooms. Do you wish to bathe?”

“The princess does, prepare it in her chambers.” Daemon ordered the maester as the three of you walked to the castles doors. Once inside the Maester ordered a bath to be prepared for you in your chambers. Dameon then ordered the maids to move his belongings to your chambers.

“I brought you here so it seems only right I keep you company.”

“Very well then.”

You sat on the bed and watched as the bath was prepared and Daemons belongings were brought to the room. The handmaidens stood to the side waiting for you to undress and enter the bath so they could bathe you. When Daemon spoke up and ordered them to leave.

“She can bathe herself.” He barked at them. They all hurried out of the room. “Good. Even better I don’t have that bleeding Ser Errol around either.”

“You don’t like him?”

“No. He treats me as though I’m to steal your virtue.”

“Are you not?” You questioned him.

“Only if you wish me too.”

“That’s alright. I will inform you when the moment arrives.” You say and drop your night shift off your shoulders and it puddles to the ground at your feet. No small clothes underneath. You stand there naked infront of him.

“No small clothes? Very naughty princess.”

You turn and walk away from him and get into the bath. Enjoying the hot water relax your tired body. As you rest in the basin eyes closed Daemon comes and sits next to you on the floor, with the back of a single finger he caresses your cheek. “Gevīe.” He whispers.

You knew you were beautiful, you were named the realms enchantress for a reason. Your beauty paralyses men and women. You could start wars with the look of an eye. Yet when Daemon called you beautiful with a look of want in his eyes you were ready to leap from the bath onto him.

He then glides his finger down from your cheek, to your neck to a single breast stoping right above the bud of your breast. You look into his eyes with yours. He removes his hand and retrieves the sponge and begins to bathe you. He wets your hair and cleans your body. His arm going under the water to wash between your legs. You close your eyes and hold back a moan. It took every ounce of strength for him not to take you out of the bath and have his way with you. But he kept his restraint. Finished bathing you and helped you out. Gave you your robe and had you sit on the chair infront of the mirror and brushed your hair. It was then you began to cry.

“Did I hurt you rinitsos?” He said looking at your face from the mirror. You looked up at his face and managed to get out a no in between your soft cries. You stood and looked up at him, “take me to bed.” You whispered as tears flowed down your cheeks. He lifted you and took you to bed, the blankets already pulled back. He lays you down and tries to get in next to you but you stop him.

“No. Undress. I’m bare, it’s only fair you are too.”

“You wear a robe.” With that you stood and untied it and let it fall to the floor.

“I’m not now.” You said getting back into bed. With that he began to undo the buckles of his doublet, removing his boots and breaches. Last his small clothes and tunic. He stood there naked before you. His member hanging there yet still quite large. It didn’t matter to you as you kept eye contact with his face. You patted the empty side of the bed as a gesture for him to join you. He entered the bed and pulled you into him.

“My mother will never brush my hair again.”

“I’m sorry my sweet girl.”

“What age were you when your mother passed?”

“4. I don’t remember her much unfortunately.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-.”

“It’s alright, don’t fret.” He interrupted the start of a ramble. He stroked your wet hair and eventually tracing his fingers up and down your spine. You looked up at him and he felt your movement and looked down at you. Your hand moved up his chest to his cheek. Leaving your hand gently there you spoke, “Daemon, kiss me.” He laid there silently staring at you. Your hand moved into his hair. “Please.” That one little please was all it took and he was on his side pressing his lips to yours. You followed his movements and when his tongue entered your mouth you weren’t sure what to do so you allowed him to lead the kiss, you laid there having never been kissed but the need for Daemon was to strong to ignore. After a while you pulled away to breathe and just stared into his eyes. Nothing but the candles illuminating the room.

His hand moved to the back of your head and pulled you into him, his lips connecting with yours. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you on top of him. You could feel his hard length under you as you hovered your hips over him. You pulled away to speak. “Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt my sweet girl.” “Your.” You spoke, a blush coming to your cheeks as you pointed down. “Your uhm.” “My cock, no.” Your blushing ferociously now. He glides a finger over your wet center and over your pearl, a soft moan escapes your lips. “Does that hurt you?” He ask.

“No, it feels good.”

“As do I.” With that he flips you both over so he is on top. His cock between your folds rubbing over your pearl. Your head falls back as you moan. He puts a head over your mouth.

“Shh, you don’t want the servants reporting back to your father.” You pull his hand from your mouth.

“Perhaps I do.”

“As you pointed out earlier I am married zaldritsos.”

“Uhg, don’t speak of her.”

“My bronzed bitch.” He leans down bring his lips to your ear. “I spoke the truth to you earlier. I’ve never laid with her, not how I am with you right now.”

“She’s truly never had you?”

“No.” He continues to thrust his cock between your folds never entering you. His lips connect with yours. Your tongues dance. You lay there in absolute bliss. After a long time he gets off of you and begins to fist his cock, you lay there and watch for a moment. The act so arousing. You get up behind him and placed your hand over his. He turns his head to look at you.

“Can I?” You speak up.

“No darling, lay down. I’ll be done soon.”

“I want to. I want to make you feel good.” You whisper hesitantly.

“These are whores tricks, you are my sweet girl. Not some whore.” He says. You begin to kiss down his neck.

“Please. Teach me.” That was all it took and he gave into you.

“Okay.” He released his hand and placed yours on his hard length. So much bigger than when you had seen it earlier. His hand covered yours as he had you pump him.

“Get on your knees infront of me.” You did as he said climb off the bed and getting on your knees for him.

“Use both your hands.” You did as he said, “oh yes. Good girl. Now lick the head.” You lick it once.

“No sweet girl. Keep licking, keep moving your tongue over it.” You did as he said pumping his length in your hands and giving the head the attention it craved. Daemon sat with his head back breathing heavy.

“You wanna swallow my seed? Hmm?” He asked you.

You let out a, “mhmm” with your lips.

“Okay, give me your hand.” You did as he said, he put two of your fingers in his mouth and began to suck up and down on them. You began to grow wetter.

“You’re going to do that on my cock. It’s okay not all fits your mouth, you can still use your hands.” You did as he said and released one of your hands and began to suck up and down on his length. “Breathe through your nose darling. Thats it. Good girl. My good girl.” You kept going and quickened your pace.

“It’s here sweet girl, get ready to swallow all of it okay.” He spoke in between his heavy breathing. You kept up your movements and eventually your mouth filled with a warm liquid. Some of it began to come out the sides of your mouth “try and swallow it, try.” And you did, you tried but it was all so overwhelming you removed your mouth from him and his seed went on to your face. The sight of his seed on your face made him release a bit more. He used his thumb to wipe off some of it and bringing it to your mouth. You swallowed what was on his fingers. He got up and grabbed a towel the maids had left behind. Cleaning your face first and then his cock. You both climbed into bed you laid there head on his chest. Your eyes widened and you sat up. “Am I with child?”

“Why do you think that sweet girl?”

“Your seed is my stomach. Babes grow in the stomach.”

“No, they grow in the womb.”

“The womb is in the belly.”

“Did your mother not tell you how she came to be with child all those times?”

“No.” You blushed and were about to cry, you had so much to learn and no mother to teach it. Daemon brushed away a small tear.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”

“How babes are made?”

“You have your monthly bleeds correct? You’ve seen your mother push out babes?”

“Yes I bleed, but when my mother begins her labors I’m always by her head.”

“You bleed from your cunt. When a man inserts his cock inside you, and releases his seed in there you will grow a babe in your womb.”

“Oh. I understand. So, the marital act?”

“Yes?”

“Is it that?”

“Yes it is.”

“Does it hurt?”

“At first, but fucking can be a pleasure. Like how you brought me pleasure with your hands and mouth.”

“I understand.”

“Let’s sleep, we can discuss this further after sunrise.” You laid with your head on his chest tucked into his side. You couldn’t fight the needy feeling you felt between your legs. How wet you were. You tried to sleep but it was impossible. You looked up at Daemon who was sound asleep. Lips parted as he gently breathed. The sight of him so relaxed didn’t help what was between your legs.

“Daemon wake up.” You shook him awake.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled.

“I can’t sleep.” You remarked.

“Such a shame. It’s quite nice.” He responds his eyes still closed.

“I feel funny.” You tell him.

“Funny how? We’ve slept in the same bed plenty of times. Oh no, I knew I shouldn’t have let you-“

“Im still wet from earlier.” You cut him off.

“Oh?” He opens one eye and looks at you.

“You need kepus to help you?” He remarks.

“Yes.”

“Let me think. I can’t take your maiden head.”

“Why not?”

“Because rinitsos, If you marry a cruel lord and you do not bleed for him on your wedding night, he may hurt you. I can’t have anyone hurting you. I think I know what might work.” He says filling the blankets of your bodies. “Open your legs.” He demands. He lowers himself. Eye level with your cunt. “7 hells you are wet. My poor girl, I was gonna make you go to sleep with all this between your legs. Not a very good Kepus of me.”

“Nope, bad Kepus.” He gives swift smack to your core at your remark. You gasp.

“Don’t start being bad, bad girls don’t get what I’m about to do for you.”

“I’ll be good.” You beg. With that he flattens his tongue lapping you up. His tongue goes between your folds and over your pearl. You’re a moaning mess already and he doesn’t bother to cover your mouth or give you something to cover your own mouth with. He loves hearing how free you are with him. The pleasure he’s bringing you. His tongue goes in and out of your cunt and his thumb rubs circles on your pearl.

“Please, please.” Your beg him. “Don’t stop.” You choke out. With that he shoves his tongue as deep as he can. Your cunt so tight he can feel it squeezing his tongue. He’s hard again imagining how it would feel around his cock. He’s now flicking and sucking your pearl with his mouth and using his smallest finger inside you. You’re a moaning mess for him. He can tell your about to peak by your cunt fluttering around his finger.

“I. I. Daemon-“ You’re cut off by your own release as you peak on his finger and tongue. Your shouting moaning mess as he devours every last drop and wipes his face on a fresh towel. He licks his fingers clean and uses a towel to wipe his hands.

“We are absolutely not returning to Kings landing now that I know you taste like that.”

“I taste good?” You asked.

“Absolutely. I’m addicted to it I’m afraid.” With that he pulls you in for a kiss and you can taste your self on his tongue. You pull away, “mmmm, I do taste good.” He gives a swift swat to your bottom. “Naughty girl. Only good girls get my tongue.” He smirks at you.

“I’ll be good. Your sweet girl.” The two of you go back to kissing and eventually fall asleep in each others arms.

Chapter 3

#daemon targaryen x ofc #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen one shot #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon #daemon targeryan #hotd daemon #daemon x reader #daemon smut #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x y/n #soft daemon targaryen #soft!daemon x reader #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader

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mayullla · 1 year

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Title: Forever a Lost Heart

Character(s): Pantalone (Genshin Impact) Summary: Pantalone came back home after a long time to find his lovely wife sleeping soundly. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, not really Stockholm syndrome but reader has given up for a long time now, imprisonment, forced marriage

Note: .....*also confused* why did I delete the previous ask a long time ago T-T I apologize i am not the best at explaining back then (even now tbf ;-;)... but anyway still hope you like this lil fic! I am really happy with this one! Also had to repost this cause i made a huge mistake in deleting the original TvT yeahhhh sorry about that...

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

It wasn't a marriage out of love. Your parents were so blinded by money, and fame forced you to marry a harbinger when he had given them a certain offer for a more luxurious life in exchange for their lovely daughter.

You.

You felt nothing more than cattle in the market, sold by your "owners," and in the next moment in the hands of someone else. Except this one was dressed it as if it was something romantic.

"Dear, how was your sleep?" Your eyes fluttered open at the voice as you looked around the dark room. Sleep still in your eyes. You forced yourself to wake up, using your arms to push yourself from the soft fabric of the bed. "You are back?" It wasn't supposed to sound like a question.

You didn't think he would come back so soon.

It has been a few days since he left, busy when the Tsaritsa summoned him for something related to one of the harbingers. "You don't sound all that please dear." It wasn't a question, as Pantalone placed a hand on your face. His gloved hand felt cold and lifeless to your cheek.

You shook your head, denying his words. Moving your hands to hold his as you lean more into his palm, closing your eyes as if comforted by his presence. "No. I am glad you are back..."

"How sweet of my love."

Yet hidden within your heart, he was correct. You didn't miss him, for the days when he was away were like a paradise for you. An empty and hollow paradise but still a paradise away from something that wanted to eat you whole. You hummed on his hand, a soft smile on your lips.

"Hmmm... you are such a doll, dear. So compliant." Pantalone chuckled, rubbing his thumb lightly on your cheek. "Did you watch over the mansion while I was away?" You nodded again. It was something that kept your mind away from the feeling of hopelessness and away from any punishments.

"Yes, I did."

"What else did you do while I was away? Did you get the gifts that I sent to you? I bought the most beautiful dresses and gems that would match your beauty. Thought nothing really is beautiful as my dove." Reminded of the boxes that the servants brought you nodded. Expensive jewels and dresses, shoes, and handbags, he had sent you many things, some of which you personally liked.

But all still useless things, they are nothing but stones and clothes, something that could never truly give you what you really wanted.

"You shouldn't lie, my dear." Ah, it seems that you didn't watch your face... it was your mistake after all you just woke up still tired from your sleep. You didn't realize your mistake until it was too late when he held your cheeks to make you look at him with such softness when his eyes had none.

"A wife should never lie to her husband, nor should she. You were always a great actress. Many outside this mansion believe that you truly love me. And quite a few misunderstood your sadness as loneliness away from her husband." His voice was sharp as he forced your face closer to his. You stared at his eyes, your own widening startled a little before returning back.

It wasn't a surprise at all that he knew. He was just too smart, for things to be kept simple.

"Were you planning on running away, dear? When I finally have my guard down around you, you could finally sneak away from me?" He innocently asked, as if he was he was accusing you. Staying still for a moment, looking down then to his eyes as you held on his wrist with a light touch, you shook your head. Well, as much as you could.

No, it wasn't like that... You had long given up ever escaping what faith had given you ever since you were born. A puppet created by your parents you were just handed over to another who could control your strings just as well.

It was something that came easy to you somehow... even if you wanted that freedom, the fear of what would happen when you stepped outside your boundary shook your heart. You didn't love your husband, but his obsession was far better than the love your parents showed to you.

"I am sorry... I just... I just feel lonely." You told him softly.

You were tired of being a doll, yet you hesitate to go out unable to find the courage to do so. If this was something of a healthy relationship maybe you could have changed for the better, but alas you didn't even have that when you were kissed by the side of your forehead by the man who softly held your face again.

"It seems that I was the reason that you have become like this. I am sorry to have left you alone for so long because of work, you have waited so patiently for me. Thank you, dear." Taking your hand, he kissed the back of your hand, the lingering warmth still there even after his lips parted away.

Your husband always knew how to twist things to his liking, how your words were twisted to his own pleasure.

"The Tsaritsa had asked me to head to Monstade soon after some rest, for some dealing over there. I wish to take you with me. My dear has been lonely for so long that it is only proper that we have some time together." Pantalone expression never changed as he rubbed your cheeks gently, his other hand holding yours. "Is there something you wished to do there, dear?"

Your eyes widen just a small bit at his words. Surprised that he was offering you finally to go out while you knew that you would never be able to leave his sight the idea of finally being able to leave the window as you watch the snow fall every minute made your heart light with hope. It was a foreign feeling something that Pantalone definitely noticed when his own smile widened just a little bit more.

Moving your hands as you took his that was holding yours, you moved it to your cheek, rubbing it affectionately as you kissed the back of his hand. "Yes... That would be lovely."

"I see that my sweetheart wishes to join me. I will have the preparations done and make it so that you will have a comfortable ride to Monstade." Pantalone stated as he watched your affections, finding it so amusing.

"It has been far too long since we have been in each other company outside. The last one was the honeymoon trip to Fontaine, but we didn't even do much then." Pantalone mumbled, a small smile gracing his lips again when an idea popped into his head, "Yes... let's do that."

You closed your eyes when he started combing your hair, uncaring to what he had in plan. His hand was gentle with you hair, as you dreamed about the dandelions and sunny skies.

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 2 months

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Four

TW: NSFW, inappropriate use of handcuffs, angst

Tom picks you up from your shift, and you ride in silence. The uncomfortable, we need to talk, prickly silence that has your bones feeling weirdly placed and your teeth achy with unsaid words. His mouth and your mouth combined? Quiet between the two? Strange. You both know something’s up. Maybe even more than one something.

When you get into your place, he goes to use the restroom, and you meander around cleaning a little bit—putting some dishes away and rearranging your coat rack and making sure your recently neglected plants aren’t dying dry deaths.

“Sorry, guys,” you whisper, filling them up and eyeing the leaves for any browning spots, spraying the orchids’ tangled roots with water and a little plant food. You pause at the dark purple orchid from Julian, realizing there’s still a smear of your dried blood on the pot. Roses love to eat blood and bone. You’re not so sure about orchids. It’s hard not to think of Julian, when you look at the beautiful plant, but you can’t quite bring yourself to get rid of it yet. It’s not the orchid’s fault, after all.

“You just keep getting cuter,” Tom says, smirking from the kitchen doorway.

“They’re living things,” you reply, sticking your tongue out.

“You know, I worked a case once where a lady had a lot of plants.”

You shoot him a raised brow. “Was she poisoning someone with one?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, that fast growing, uncut dark shag probably due for a haircut soon. Shame, you kinda like it a little longer. “See, it just makes me even more suspicious that you know that.”

“Am I a suspect now, Officer Ludlow?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Easy, Poison Ivy, don’t make me get the cuffs.”

“Poison Ivy, really?”

He shrugs. “What? She’s hot. You’re hot. You both love plants. Got that fiery temper.” Wink.

“And you’re what, Batman?” You crinkle your nose at the comparison. Bruce Wayne ain’t got nothin on Tom Ludlow. Plus, you were never a big fan. Now, Punisher, he’s someone you can admire.

“No. I’m a side character. Poison Ivy’s boyfriend.”

Do not engage. Do not interact. Do not make eye contact. Did he just call himself… You haven’t had a boyfriend in what, years? Tom Ludlow? Boyfriend? Dating? Your brain might be short circuiting, a rattling tool box of metal getting zapped with a cattle prod, and you stand there, frozen, looking dumb for a good minute until you can compartmentalize and rationalize.

Tom Ludlow hasn’t really left since that first night you invited him in. His clothes are in your dirty laundry, his shoes are sitting next to yours on the entryway rug, making your sneakers look like kids shoes in comparison, his amazing smell is on everything, his indent is on your bed. He’s just settled himself right in here, and you didn’t even notice.

“What’s a throw down?” You ask, stupidly, suddenly, not sure why you pick that moment to inquire about this.

To your credit, it does take him off guard and make him forget about the whole boyfriend thing… For now. “It’s a gun dirty cops carry. Something to throw away in case they shoot someone...unlawfully.”

“Is that…what you have on your ankle?”

His frown is like a thunderhead, and he probably would have started yelling, if not for how tiny your voice sounded, and the big-eyed bunny look on your face. “No, baby. That’s my backup. In case I lose my other gun. Which, I have. Why are you asking me this?”

Oh fuck, this was a bad, bad decision. Maybe you should mention the dating conversation again? You turn to face him, trying to seem less suspicious and probably just ranking yourself even higher on his list of suspects. “Brixton, that guy that interviewed me, said you fired it in the store.”

Nice save—never mind, looks like you’ve personally signed Brixton’s death certificate yourself. You jump in to appease that hostile look curtaining over his face. “It's just..I feel like there’s something up, Tom. Something you’re not telling me?”

You’re such a hypocrite.

“What does that have to do with my backup?” He asks, great fucking detective that he is, and you’re caught like a rabbit in a metal fox trap, ready to gnaw off its own leg just to get free. And maybe, judging by that suspicious look on his face, you should start digging in sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You throw your hands in the air, maybe a little too dramatically. “I’m just trying to piece this whole thing together, y'know? And if you’re not telling me anything, how can I do that? I saw his face—the man who attempted to murder a cop in cold blood—and I’m scared.” None of that was particularly a lie, but you still feel bad for freaking out on him.

You feel even worse, when his standoffish attitude melts immediately for you. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby, come here,” he says, holding out his arms to you.

Once upon a time, with anyone else, you would be an ornery shit and refuse the respective olive branch. But with Tom…you melt too, and before you know it you’ve crossed the tiny kitchen to fill his arms.

“You’ve taken this whole thing like such a champ, I fucking forget you’re not used to getting shot at,” he says to the top of your head. “M’sorry, baby. I’m working on figuring this all out. I promise you. I’ve got some leads. I gotta find a guy…” He shuts himself up out of habit, not used to sharing details of an ongoing investigation with a civilian. But then he seems to think better of it, considering you’re right in the fucking middle of it too. “I gotta find this guy who might know the shooters. I’m waiting on a call. Got a lead through an inmate in County.”

“Why would an inmate help you?” you mumble into the solid plane of his chest.

“Because I put him there, and he’s not gettin’ out unless he gets me that name.”

You blink at that, craning your neck to look up at him. “Is that legal?”

He looks down at you with that Come on look that makes you feel more than a little foolish.

“Oh.”

You feel the rumble of his amusement from deep in his chest, more than hear it.

“Is that…always how you really get things done?” you ask, at risk of being made to feel even dumber. “Like, are the official channels really that useless?”

“Pretty much, sweetheart. Learned it the hard way a long time ago. Too many bureaucrats in the LAPD. Not enough people actually willing to get the job done.”

With a long sigh you nod, utterly reluctant to vacate the depression between his pecs. You’re pretty sure it was made just for your head.

You guess you're about to embark on some back channels of your own to keep him out of trouble. The thought of what Julian might have in store for you makes a shudder of revilement run through you. Tom cranes back to study you, those hawkish eyes narrowed. He knows something’s up. He’s too smart, and you can’t fathom how you’re going to trick him, even if it is for his own good.

You suppose your best bet is distracting him–so you stand on tip toe, and press your lips to his.

***

He just will not drop it.

He drives you absolutely wild. To the edge of your sanity. To the brink of death.

This man’s tongue should be considered a lethal weapon. It’s an absolute menace.

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, yet you can’t help but think to yourself, this is how you die.

“Tom…” you beg. “It’s too much!”

You would have even tried to get up, to get away, to flee, you’re that desperate, but he’s been holding you down with those big beautiful hands, and you are just a quivering mess of a woman at his mercy. Plus, he’s got you cuffed to the post of your bed.

“You can cum anytime you want, sweet girl,” he tells you. “You know what I want to hear.”

“This is…interrogation…under duress.”

“Oooo, someone’s been studying up.”

“Hey, I know…stuff.”

He’s changed tactics, making slow, soft circles with his tongue, just shy of where you need him most. The keening whine it tears from your hoarse throat makes him chuckle against you; a deep, bone-melting sound that you think Satan could take some notes from.

“You know what I want to hear.”

I’m yours.

“Torturing me into saying it won’t make it true.”

“I already know it’s true, sweetheart. Just want to hear you say it.”

You whimper, your head thrown back into the pillows. So keyed up yet exhausted, too stubborn for your own good. You sense Tom looking up at you, his cheek resting on the soft pillow of your inner thigh.

“Scare you that much, baby?”

You have to try twice before you can find your voice, suddenly feeling like you downed a fat gulp of Mojave sand. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

He climbs your body, and you are relieved until he sheathes himself inside you, just like that, like this is the place where he belongs. You desperately try to grind against him, knowing you are so close to the edge, but he just pins you with his thick cock kissing your cervix and his elbows on either side of you.

He kisses your forehead, and its all so tender you could cry.

“You know you’re safe with me?”

“I know.” You mean it, too, even if you sound pitiful.

He sweeps your hair from your face with gentle fingers, looking down at you with a little smile that wrecks your heart. It simply was not fair.

“Then tell me what’s going on.” You’re not sure if he means your neuroses in general, or your earlier almost-slip, or…who knows? Discussing any and all of it aloud terrifies you. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Finally, you just frown, and fall back on your favorite word of all time.

“No.”

Miraculously, he doesn’t get mad, like every other man you’ve ever known would have. He just seems to think you’re cute. “You know what?” He muses, tracing your collarbones and making you shiver, “I think,” he follows the dip of your skin, down between your breasts, then under, slow and soft, over your rib cage as you make little strangled gasps, attempting unsuccessfully to writhe—get him frustrated enough to move. “I think you like it when I tease all your worries away.”

Why does that infuriate you even more? “This isn’t teasing.” Your whining delights him and humiliates you. “This is tortu-ah.”

He has your pert right nipple tugged between two fingers, rolling the sensitive flesh against rough calluses. The sensation swells into your pussy, and she clenches, exacting her own form of vengeance on Tom, for once on the same side as you—the cum or die side.

A breath of air hisses from between his teeth, and you grin up at him in triumph. Sure, you’re the one handcuffed to the bed being edged out of your mind, but you know underneath all that cool, collected facade this affects him just as much as it does you.

“You haven’t seen torture yet.” He says, his smile turning malicious.

“What?” You pant. “Can’t help it that my pussy loves your cock so much, baby.”

He turns peach again, skin absolutely betraying his attitude, and you let loose a sharp giggle that turns to a groaning snarl when he pumps inside of you, slow, not enough. The rhythm he adopts after a minute or two of equally frustrating practice is made for your destruction; more frustrating than just holding him inside, unmoving.

That languid squelching rub, the slow strokes that make your cunt flood and fatten with plentiful cum, yield to and accommodate its bulky visitor like a good little host should—all of it gets both of you gnashing your teeth and growling like beasts.

In this feral, viscous slide of your bodies, Tom takes your mouth instead of talking, teeth and tongue and spit. None of it would be pretty from an onlooker's perspective, you think, as he swallows the bottom of your face into his big jaws, but fuck, it’s just what you need from him while he works your cunt to a slow, brutal end.

La petite mort, your brain thinks, surfacing from the sluggish black haze for a moment before you lose it entirely again to a violent, slow orgasm on just his cock. You barely feel the scratchy tickle of his stubble as he buries his face into your neck, biting and licking at your collar, and ending right along with you.

“Trickster,” he mumbles, hips twitching in finality, length already softening and settling inside you.

“Who me?” You giggle.

“Minx,” he growls.

“Never,” you tease.

“One of these days I’m gonna get you to say it baby. Might as well just get it over with.”

“Say what?” You ask, now just trying to piss him off.

He nibbles the skin of your neck, and you giggle-flinch away.

“I have to tickle you?” He asks.

“Swear to God, Tom, I will kill you.” Then, you pout. “These cuffs are kinda uncomfy.”

He sighs and unlocks you from your metal, cold bondage, then rubs the blood and warmth back into your wrists. “Can I ask you something?”

You flick your head at him, curious, and push the sweaty hair from his forehead. “Yeah, of course.”

“Will you take a little vacation with me? After I’m done with this case? I’d like to take you somewhere. Just us. Anywhere you want. Beach, mountains. I know we’re already right next to the beach, but maybe one with calmer water? They have some nice little bungalows in Florida.” He’s cute, when he’s all rambling and shy and flustered.

You lean up to kiss him, halting his nerves. “Yeah, I will.”

“Really?” He asks, grin big and goofy and only missing a long tongue hanging from the side.

He makes you laugh. The dichotomy of this man. God, you want to eat him. “Yeah. I have unused vacation time anyway. As long as you promise not to secretly be a serial killer.”

He snorts, probably thinking of the same image that you are: Bull-in-a-china-shop, brutish, forceful, loud Tom trying to be sneaky and malicious in any capacity? It’s just not believable. What you see is what you get with this long, bronze man currently walking butt ass naked to the bathroom and retrieving a damp, warm towel for you to clean up with.

***

“So, where do you wanna go?” He asks, once you're settled in his arms with the blanket wrapping you up. You think it’s just way too adorable, how he fusses over you. Pushes your hair back from your face, makes sure you’re adjusted and comfortable, makes sure your toes are covered, kisses your forehead.

“I’ve never been to the mountains,” you suggest, nuzzling your face into his chest and inhaling, trying to memorize him—this moment.

“Mountains it is,” he grins. “We’ll go hiking.”

“Do you think we’ll see woodland critters?” You ask hopefully.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, “I’ll protect you.”

You laugh into his skin. “Tom, I want to see them. I’m not scared.”

“What about, I dunno, bears?”

“Bears are cute.”

He gives you an incredulous look, as if you’ve really caught him off guard with that one. “You’re something else.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Am I gonna have to hold you back from trying to pet a 700 pound grizzly?” He asks, fingers playing with your shoulder blades.

You pretend to think about it. “No, but maybe a raccoon….?”

“Oh my god, go to bed,” he chuckles. “I’m rethinking the mountains.”

“Oh c’mon!”

It takes a good hour for you both to get tired enough to fall asleep. The witty banter keeps you awake, like you’re at a teenage slumber party with your best friend. It’s you that drifts off first, because if you don’t get your nine hours you emulate Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

#tom ludlow x you #tom ludlow x reader #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #julian mercer x you #julian mercer x reader

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exhausted-archivist · 11 months

Text

All Lore from the Dragon Age: Official Cookbook: Taste of Thedas

This is going to be a long post with all the lore from the cookbook collected in one post. This is only going to be counting the lore in the "blurbs" so to speak as the actual recipes themselves, which are not meant to be set in-world.

Additionally, it should be noted that I am unable to say one way or the other if the props used in the photos or the etching art shown on some recipes are to be taken as reflecting the canon the cookbook narrator is in. For the sake of completeness, I have included the less conclusive elements.

Shoving everything below the cut for length as well as to help people avoid spoilers. Think I got everything... There is a lot in this book honestly.

Cookbook Lore

World State

Cassandra is Divine.

The Hero of Ferelden is a Cousland Warden.

The Warden gave Leliana Schmooples.

Hawke is a non-mage, as Varric knows Bethany.

Hawke is diplomatic in personality.

Bull's Chargers, Krem, and Bull are all alive.

Cullen stayed off lyrium.

Celene is empress; Briala and Gaspard are still alive.

Alistair is king.

Varric is viscount.

Uncertain aspects of the world state:

The suggested lore based on the art, props used in photos, and vague wording in blurbs. These are not for certain this is the canon.

Briala is described as a spymaster and lover, implying she was possibly reunited with Celene.

Celene, Briala, and Gaspard are possibly working together in the truce. But the wording is vague it could simply be Celene ruling alone while Briala and Gaspard live.

Cole was encouraged to be more human and is traveling with Maryden Halewell.

Cullen got his mabari.

Josephine was romanced by the Inquisitor.

Morrigan has Keiran.

The Hero of Ferelden romanced King Alistair.

Food Lore

Lentils and onions are common ingredients to find in pantries across Thedas.

Ferelden has reliable access to tomatoes that allows them to use them regularly in their food.

Fereldans are known for their love of soups, stews, pickled eggs, and turnips that it is regularly joked about and seen as a stereotype. Devon regularly comments on the known expectations.

Turnip and Mutton Pie is a classic Fereldan dish served in taverns across the nation.

Nevarra food culture holds that food is suppose to be a feast for the eyes and mouth. Leading to their plating to be dazzling and seen as works of art.

The Jade Ham, is a smoked Anderfels ham with a particular glaze made from wildflowers and turns the ham as hard as jade.

The Anderfels are hostile and often considered inhospitible in certain areas. But despite the harsh environment, pigs farm well there and as a result are much larger than elsewhere in Thedas.

There are custard connoisseurs across Thedas.

Lichen ale is toxic, though most dwarves are able to handle it. However, non-dwarves can only tolerate a few sips of the drink.

Isabela has a drinking game based on how many enemies you have, it has killed at least one person.

The Rivaini tea blend is said to have healing properties such as helping alleviate headaches.

Dwarves underground raise giant spiders like people on the surface raise cattle and goats.

Orzammar has a contest where one is crowned as Orzammar's Best Sauce, the competition is so fierce people get underhanded in their attempts to acquire recipes. This has led to eateries, and in general people of Orzammar, to guard their recipes from others.

Orzammar also farms various mushrooms for eating.

Rice is commonly found in Antiva and Rivain, however it is not a large export for Antiva so it is a rare grain for folks in Ferelden. Due to it not being exported, rice is a cheap food item in Antiva and is very common in the more mundane foods of commoners.

Wyvern, like phoenix, can become deadly poisonous if eaten when they aren't prepared properly.

A jam maker lives in Orzammar, importing individual ingredients so they can make the jam themselves and hopefully sell it cheaper than imported jam.

Fauna

Mentioned through out the cookbook, not necessarily as ingredients themselves but sources for other food items.

Ayesleigh gulabi goat - Rivain

Cattle

Cave Beetles - Underground

Chicken

Crab

Cuttlefish

Dracolisk

Giant

Giant Spider

Goat

Gurgut

Halla

Lamprey

Lurker

Mackerel

Mussel

Nug

Pig

Prawn

Quillback

Sheep

Shrimp

Snail

Turkey

Wyvern

Additional Lore

The golden nug statues do exist in Thedas, Devon mentions seeing one in Haven and hearing rumors of there being more.

Fereldans who worked for the Inquisition would leave Commander Cullen pickled eggs on his desk while he was going through the worst of his lyrium withdrawal symptoms.

Spring time is gurgut mating season, and travelers are advised to keep their distance.

Starkhaven is oval in shape, shaped by rings of tall, grey stone walls, is filled with lavish estates, fountains, and sits on the Minanter River.

Makes reference to the ambient events of where Cole dumped a bushel of turnips onto a fire.

Food: Dishes, Ingredients, and More

Foods/Dishes

These are mentioned, referenced, and/or introduced in the cookbook description of the food, these aren't including the ingredients or foods mentioned in the recipes.

If the item is marked with **, it means there are multiple cultures with the same dish but the cookbook is offering specifically that as the reference point.

Apple Grenade - Antiva

Bark Bread - suggested alternative to black lichen

Biscuit

Biscuit, sweets

Black Lichen Bread - Orzammar

Blancmange - a white pudding dish from Orlais

Blood Orange Salad - Nevarra

Boiled Turnip

Bun

Bun, sweet - a pastry served as dessert

Cabbage Soup - Ferelden

Cacio e Pepe

Cherry Sauce

Cherry Cupcakes - Tevinter

Chocolate Cake

Chocolate Cream

Cinnamon Rolls

Couscous Salad - Rivain

Crab Cakes - Kirkwall

Croissant - Orlais

Crow Feed - Antiva

Custard

Dark Bread

Eggs à la Val Foret - Orlais

Fish Chowder - Antiva

Fish Wraps/Fish Pockets - Seheron

Flat Bread - Nevarra

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding - Ferelden

Forest Fruit Cobbler - Dalish

Found Cake - Ferelden

Fried Crab Legs - a substitute version of fried young giant spiders

Fried Young Giant Spiders - Orzammar

Gnocchi - Antiva

Goat Custard - Rivain **

Grilled Poussin - Chasind

Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce - Avvar

Hearth Cakes - Dalish

Hearty Scones - Ferelden

Honey Carrots - Orlais **

Jade Ham - More suited for a weapon, stated to not be suited for eating.

Lamprey Cake - not made of real lamprey, just a cake modeled after it.

Lentil Soup - City Elf **

Llomerryn Red - Rivain

Mashed Turnip

Merrill's Blood Soup - Dalish

Mushroom Sauce

Nettle Soup - origins unclear

Nug Bacon and Egg Pie - Ferelden

Paella - Antiva

Pastry Pockets - recipe originates with the Grey Wardens, cookbook provides the Orlesian Grey Warden variation **

Peasant Bread - Orlais

Pickled Eggs - Ferelden

Pickled Lamprey - Free Marches

Poached Egg

Poison Stings - Chocolate-coated orange peels from Tevinter

Potato and Leek Soup - Ferelden

Pumpkin Bread - Tevinter

Red Grape Compote

Rice Pudding - Tevinter

Roasted Fig

Roasted Cave Beetles - Orzammar

Roasted Prawns - a substitute prawns for cave beetles

Roasted Turnip

Roll, pastry

Snail and Watercress Salad - Avvar

Sour Cherries in Cream - Orlais

Spiced Jerky - Dalish

Steamed Turnip

Stir-fried Turnip

Strawberry and Rhubarb Cobbler - Ferelden

Stuffed Cabbage - Ferelden

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms - Orzammar

Stuffed Vine Leaves - Tevinter

Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup - Ferelden

Toasted Almonds

Traviso Energy Balls - Antiva

Tzatziki - Tevinter

Turnip and Mutton Pie - Ferelden

Unidentified Meat - a common tavern food in Tevinter

Yogurt Dip - Nevarra

Drinks

Chasind Sack Mead

Chasind Wildwine

The Emerald Valley

The Golden Nug

The Hissing Drake

Hot Chocolate

Lichen Ale

Pomegranate Juice

Rivaini Tea Blend

West Hill Brandy

White Seleney wine

Ingredients

These are only listed in the lore entries and not the actual recipes themselves as whether or not they are canon is questionable as the recipes recommend store bought items as well as ingredients that have unique Thedosian counterpart names.

Almond

Antivan Pasta

Apple

Apricot

Bacon

Bacon, Nug

Bark

Barley

Beef

Beetroot

Bell Pepper, red

Bitter Greens - this is a class of salad greens known for their bitter flavor.

Black Lichen - Underground

Blood Orange - Nevarra

Butter

Butter, Halla

Cabbage

Cave Beetles

Celery

Cinammon

Cheese

Cherry

Cherry, black

Cherry, sweet

Chicken

Chickpea - Rivain

Chocolate

Cocoa Powder

Corn, yellow

Corn, checkered

Couscous - Rivain

Crab

Cranberry

Currant

Deep Mushroom, various varieties

Dracolisk - The narrator suggests it being a potential meat in a recipe in Tevinter.

Dried Fruit

Eggs

Fig

Flour, semolina - Rivain

Giant - Suggested that Tevinter might serve giant

Giant Spiders - Underground

Goat

Grape, red

Grape Leaves/Vine Leaves

Grease

Guimauves - Orlesian

Gurgut - Avvar

Heavy Cream

Honey

Jasmine

Mackerel

Mango

Mint

Mussel

Mutton

Lamb

Lamprey

Leek

Lemon

Lemon Juice

Lemon Verbena

Lentil

Lichen

Licorice Root

Lurker - Avvar

Oat

Oil

Onion

Oregano

Pastry Dough

Peanut

Peanut Butter

Peppers, Hot

Peppermint

Plum

Pork

Potato

Prawn - said to have the same texture and flavor as cave beetles.

Puff Pastry - Orlais

Pumpkin

Quillback

Raisin

Raspberry

Rhubarb

Rice - Antiva and Rivain

Salt

Semolina Flour - Rivain

Shrimp

Snail - Avvar

Spinach

Strawberry

Sugar

Tomato

Turkey

Turnip

Watercress - Avvar

Wheat

Whipped Cream

White Chocolate

Wildflowers

Wyvern - Avvar, Orlais

Charts and Stats

Because I love a good visual rep of data, I collected some stats of the types of food, how many recipes are from where, and the amount of time a character was mentioned.

Types of Food

I did percentages for the course of food as well as the portion of options that are vegetarian, vegan, dairy-free, meat based, and alcoholic.

Food Types Stats

These charts show the ingredient percentage in the actual recipes and not the lore blurbs themselves. This is out of 72 recipes with the amount they were used in (-) after their percentage.

Left Hand Chart

Alcohol: 14.6% (27)

Dairy-free: 15.7% (29)

Egg-free: 25.4% (47)

Meat based: 16.2% (30)

Nuts: 3.1% (6)

Shellfish: 2.6% (5)

Vegan: 4.2% (8)

Vegetarian: 20.4% (39)

Top Right Chart

Alcohol: 37.5% (27)

Alcohol-free: 62.5% (45)

Bottom Right Chart

Beef: 11.4% (4)

Chicken: 17.1% (6)

Fish: 17.1% (6)

Lamb: 5.7% (2)

Pork: 28.6% (10)

Shellfish: 14.3% (5)

Turkey: 5.7% (2)

Percentage of Recipe Origins

Anderfels: 1.4%

Antiva: 11%

Avvar: 6.8%

Chasind: 2.7%

City Elves: 2.7%

Dalish: 6.8%

Ferelden: 15.1%

Free Marches: 5.5% Kirkwall: 2.7% Starkhaven: 2.7%

Grey Wardens: 1.4%

Nevarra: 2.7%

Orlais: 13.7%

Orzammar: 9.6%

Rivain: 4.1%

Seheron: 1.4%

Tevinter: 9.6%

Character Mentions

I organized the chart by game and the characters in alphabetical order.

DAO Alistair: 2 Dog: 2 Hero of Ferelden (Cousland): 6 Leliana: 1 Loghain: 1 Morrigan: 1 Sten: 1 Zevran Arainai: 2

DA2 Anders: 2 Bethany: 1 Fenris: 3 Hawke: 1 Isabela: 1 Merrill: 2 Sebastian Vael: 1 Varric: 3

DAI Briala: 1 Bull's Chargers: 2 Cassandra: 2 Celene Valmont: 1 Cole: 2 Cullen: 3 Dorian: 2 Friends of Red Jenny: 1 Gaspard: 1 Josephine: 3 Krem: 2 Sera: 1 Solas: 4 The Iron Bull: 4 Vivienne: 2

Food Courses

I thought it would be interesting to see how the recipe groups totaled out in how much of the book they made.

Drinks: 12.5%

Baked Goods: 13.9%

Sweets: 11.1%

Sides: 5.6%

Starters and Refreshments: 12.5%

Travel Food: 13.9%

Soup and Stew: 11.1%

Main Course: 19.4%

Wanna support this blog? You can check out my ko-fi.

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phoebepheebsphibs · 5 months

Text

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 11: Anthropophobia

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Splinter is the first to meet April as she walks in. She's carrying several bags that hang from her wrists and arms. Apparently she went grocery shopping before she got here.

Splinter walks over to her and nods his head in greeting.

"Ah, April. Good to see you again..." he sniffs the air, his demeanour immediately changing from composed host to excited foodie. "Ooooh, is that tiramisu I smell?"

April laughs as she reaches into one of the bags.

"All for you, Splints," she says, handing the box of cake over to Splinter, who grabs it with a huge grin.

"Aha! Come to big papa! Thank you, April, this is very kind of you."

"Anything for you and the guys," she says with a smile. "Speaking of which, how's Mikey doing?"

Splinter pauses.

"...How much have they told you?"

"You know Donnie, he likes to be vague and build up suspense for dramatic effect. But he texted me last night to say how the mission went."

"Did he?"

"Sometime at like, midnight or one AM," she grumbles. "Just to say that the mission was a success and they got Mikey back. I asked how he was, and all he said was that he was alive and conscious. But I haven't known Donnie all these years to not know when he's hiding something. So, how is Mikey, really? Is he okay?"

"It's difficult to say," Splinter mumbles, walking back into the lair with April. "He's... he's awake and can communicate, to some extent. He can walk and even run. But... I'll let you decide when you see him."

April is unsure what he means by that, but lets it slide. She's sure she'll find out in a bit.

The three other Hamato sons come into the room to greet them. Leo is first, rushing in with haste. Raph comes in after him, his pace quick but not as swift as Leon's. Donnie meanders in last, his stride slow and somewhat sluggish. He looks exhausted.

"Hey, family!" she says, leaning in for a hug from Leo, who takes half of the bags from her as Raph takes the rest. "How're you holding up?"

"Well enough," Leo mutters. "All things considered. At least, I haven't had a emotional breakdown yet!"

Raph looks embarrassed. Apparently he can't match that boast.

"Where is the man of the hour?" April asks. "I got some new paint pens for him."

Leo looks uncomfortable.

"Uhh... we left him in Donnie's lab. I think he's still asleep... let's get these groceries into the kitchen for now; we'll tell you about everything."

April nods sadly as she follows the guys.

"Hold him still!"

"Stop struggling!"

"Get me 20 Cc's of the mandrill, the boa, and the -- crap, he's gotten loose again!"

Mikey shrieks as he jumps down from the operating chair and dashes to the exit. A guard blocks his path, a cattle prod in his grip. He flicks the switch on it and a loud grinding sound ignites as blue sparks fly from the end. Mikey makes a quick turn and dodges him, running to a corner of the room and cowering. The doctors surround him angrily.

"Where's that frost gun?"

"Over there by the table!"

"Antagonizing little cretin! You'd think he'd have learned his lesson from the last time!!"

One of the men in white comes back, brandishing a long thin airgun with a blue stripe down the middle. A special weapon made specifically for him, for when he acts out. The doctor points it at Mikey and pulls the trigger. A gust of icy air shoots out directly at Mikey. He screeches in pain as the shock of temperature causes his body to go rigid. He falls to the ground convulsing and shivering, painful stabbing sensations prickle across his entire body. He almost feels like he's dying. He can't move.

The guards grab him roughly. He can't move to fight back. Mikey sobs and screams.

He hurts so much, there are so many hurting places on his body.

Needles that have broken the skin to inject what Mikey can only assume is poison because of how much it hurts.

Bruises from where he has been forced into places with other animals to see how they interact. They are never friendly. Mikey is the only one to ever walk out of the room again. Instinct is efficient and ruthless.

There is no love in this room. Only hate. Only pain.

Mikey is taken back to the chair and strapped down. He howls.

"I'd advise you not to do that again," a doctor says with anger burning in his eyes. "Or else there will be consequences."

Consequences worse than what is happening now? He doubts it.

Syringes prick his arms. Oozes and slimes and ghastly liquids are shoved into his veins and bloodstreams. He can feel it doing painful things to him, he feels his bones shift and crack and grow and shrink. His teeth snap into new formations and his fingers start to elongate, the nails splintering and curving into talons.

Mikey sobs. Why is he here? Why do they hate him? Where are the other ones?? Where is Red, and Blue, and Purple? Where did they go, why have they left him behind? Did they escape this place? This place is all he can remember, apart from them. He only recalls needles and linoleums and cages and cold and pain and tears and hatred and fury and longing and loneliness.

Why did they leave him... didn't they love him, once?

Didn't anybody love him once?

No. No one could ever have loved anything from this place.

No one could have loved whatever it is that Mikey is.

Mikey's eyes snap open, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He doesn't recognize this room. It's another cage? It's a small white tunnel, he's stuck inside, he needs to get out!

Mikey clambers around, whining and crying like a puppy stuck in a kennel. He somehow manages to make a backwards shimmy out of the tunnel.

He is in Purple's lab. He wants to leave, now. Right now.

Purple and Blue and Red aren't in here. Where did they go?

The door is open. Mikey rushes out, calling for them.

He howls, long whining hoots that anyone within the lair could hear. Why don't they respond? Where are they?

They left him again...? They left him. They left.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

Mikey starts to whimper.

Should have known they would leave...

No, they wouldn't leave!

Then where are they?

Somewhere... Brothers are somewhere... He'll find them eventually.

No trust. Something bad. Smell something bad.

Mikey smells it, too. Where is the bad smell coming from?

It's not a disgusting scent. In fact, it is, in some ways, very nostalgic. There are traces of coconut oil in it. Sweet scents. But it is a bad smell.

Something dangerous is in the home.

It's coming from the kitchen...

Mikey goes into hunting mode. He digs his talons into the cracks between the bricks in the wall. As he climbs, the pads on his palms shift, tickling sensations that give pins and needles on his hands. Miniscule hairs create Van der Waals forces, causing a suction effect as Mikey starts to scale the wall and crawl to the ceiling.

He sneaks along the top of the hallway, following the bad smell.

Mikey cranes his neck down to peer into the kitchen. Everyone is inside, unloading bags and boxes and containers of food and supplies.

Rat is in the corner of the room, wiping his eyes. He was crying. The human who made breakfast is also in here, quietly rummaging through the pantries and cabinets as he places things away. He looks like he might cry, too. Blue, Red and Purple are holding someone in their arms. She is making a lot of noise, weeping and wailing and sobbing in their embrace. Apparently everyone was crying.

They must love her.

But she smells bad. She has the bad smell. Why trust bad smell?

The bad smell is human.

We don't like humans.

No... we don't... but the male human made the food for us! We trust male human?

NO. No trusting humans! Bad humans! They do terrible things to us. Mikey must not trust humans. Only Instinct. Instinct kept us alive.

Instinct kept Mikey alive...

The male human seems to sense something is watching them, and looks up. He yelps in surprise.

Red, Blue, and Purple turn to look at him, then at what he's pointing at. The girl looks up at Mikey and screams in fright.

He hisses back at her, growling loudly as his tail whips underneath him. The scales and scutes start to lift, the ridges on his shoulders and thighs raising high. His tail becomes a spiky bludgeon.

Let Instinct take over. Instinct will keep us safe.

Mikey can do it. Instinct Might hurt brothers.

Instinct is better. Stronger. Instinct is --

MIKEY CAN DO IT, he snaps back in his mind. His tail cracks like a whip again as he snarls angrily.

The human girl yipes and hides behind Red.

Mikey starts to creep along the ceiling, watching them. Making sure that the evil humans don't do anything to hurt Rat or brothers.

Red follows him around the room, raising his hands and guarding the girl.

"Mikey? Hey Mikey, come on down, bud..."

"How... how is he doing that?" the girl asks.

"Lizards can climb on walls," Blue mutters. "Remember we said he has lizard DNA now?"

"I can't believe... that's really Mikey?" the girl whimpers quietly, grabbing Blue's arm.

"It's him," Blue says. He sounds sad.

"Mikey, come down?" Red begs.

Mikey sneers at the girl.

"What? April? You remember April, right?"

Mikey snaps at her, baring his teeth. The canines are growing longer and longer.

"Mikey, she's your sister," Red enunciates.

Mikey's expression softens. Sister? Like brothers?

"Yeah, mi hermano, she's cool! It's big sis April!" Blue joins in, patting her on the head. "See? She's one of us!"

Mikey croaks at her, cocking his head in confusion.

Don't trust her. Don't trust them. Humans are evil. Humans did this to us. They hurt us, and kept us from brothers, and made us sad and scared. She will hurt you!

Red walks directly underneath Mikey and holds his arms out as far as he can. Mikey lowers himself into his embrace, dangling upside down from the ceiling for a moment before readjusting and wrapping his torso around Red's forearm, his spine twisting with flexibility that surprises his brother.

"Boa constrictor?" he asks, looking at Purple.

"I guess," Purple answers with a tired shrug.

Mikey keeps his eyes on the human girl. She cautiously starts stepping closer, holding a hand out to him.

"Mikey? It's me, April. Please say you remember me...?"

Her voice wavers. She sounds so sad.

Humans can be sad?

Humans only cause sad. How can this human be sad?

Her eyes become glassy and blur over. She sniffles. Her nose is red and her cheeks are rosy. She was crying. She was very sad. Why is she sad now?

Did Mikey make her sad??

Mikey mews at her. He feels bad now. Her fingers touch his beak. He takes in the scent on her hands... lotions, perfume, coco butter from her curls. Mikey doesn't remember her face, or her voice. But he remembers these scents. And they do smell safe. He loves these smells, though he can't remember why. His eyes water, the scents activating some distant and foggy recollection of a warm embrace and a soft hand against his head and the feeling you get when laughing too hard.

She might be human... but he loved her once. He can love her again.

Mikey purrs, closing his eyes and leaning his face into the touch. He hears her stifle a sob, stroking her hand across his forehead and down his cheek. Tears pool in his eyes and seep through. Soon enough, she's wiping the tears away.

The humans were never gentle like this in the other place. They never loved him. But she loves him.

He was loved once. He is loved again.

Prev || Next

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bomberqueen17 · 5 days

Text

currently in the Fens

I am actually literally in a Fen right this moment apparently. I can actually hear the river Cam, which is doing something and I can't tell what behind a tree, there's a noise so it's either falling over something or being partly penned-up by something or-- like a dam or a waterfall idk. it's really flat here, like that's the salient feature of this geographic area i think, and the river is in like five channels kind of meandering around and of course this place being heavily human-inhabited for the last thousand years at least, but more like five thousand, many of these channels have been tamed, straightened or redirected or whatnot. but anyway some portion of the river Cam is outside my hotel rn.

There's also cows on it, which is kind of wild. There's a cattle guard at the park entrance so obviously those cattle are authorized to be there.

Anyway I am going to see several friends, some Internet and some Real Life, this week and am going to look at some museums and some architecture in Cambridge, and Flag Fen Archaeology Park and the cathedral at Ely and such.

Yesterday getting here was slightly an adventure because we'd researched and knew that by flying into Gatwick we could just directly get onto the Thameslink train and go right to Cambridge and so we bought our tickets and went and looked at the board to ask how to get to Cambridge and it said under Cambridge "please enquire" and oh they had shut down that whole branch of track because of some kind of fire so we Could Not Get There From Here ah shit! So we had to instead go to St Pancras and then nebulously to King's Cross which... I was not clear on the mechanism of whether those were the same thing or not but once we were there it was obvious that they are adjoining, that is the life hack solution etcetera, and then we had to get onto the Ely train to get to Cambridge (I had been pronouncing Eeeeleee right hurrah). But we managed, and it was not that difficult after all, and we could even just still use our same Thameslink ticket and that was great and all but like. Whew ok.

The solution to jet lag is just to be real tired; I slept like ten hours last night. I'm not exactly myself today but I am myself enough to go look at a whole museum in extreme detail. I suspect this museum is aimed at children but that has never stopped or deterred me in any way.

We are staying in a hotel that is university-themed, like why not. There is a giant model of DNA hanging in the lobby and the walls are covered in punts for some reason, and the desk staff are wearing tweed uniform jackets. (I am not surprised by the DNA thing because its discovery was announced hereish in the Eagle Pub ) It's cute. It's weird. It just got acquired by Hilton so who knows how weird it will remain. There's a balcony, which I thought was hilarious given my knowledge of the British climate, but actually it was ravishingly gorgeous yesterday (lightly breezy, meltingly sunny, a warm room temperature) and it is going to remain partly cloudy but warm for most of the week so actually the balcony was a really good call. (The room below, which has the footprint of the balcony as indoor space, was the same price, and Dude dithered a bit but went for fresh air.)

I have updated my bird packs in my Merlin app so i can try to find out what the various birds are (i mean I figured out the swan on my own) but I do not have a good app for plants and my burner French sim won't let me send photos so i am struggling with just not knowing what anything is. I had not realized how much of my psychic landscape is taken up by knowing the names of the plants around me, and everything here is familiar but Not The Thing and it's mildly distressing. There's no goldenrod but there are these exuberant things with pale purple spike flowers, seven feet tall, sprawling in every hedgerow. And there are willow trees along the river bank but this thing is like a huge mutant Japanese maple the size of a Norway maple. And those things have canes like bramble bushes but huge. what is anything.

The only plant I can reliably ID is English ivy which is probably not invasive here, I'm just going off a random hunch there tho.

OK the museum opens in a minute so I'm gonna go look at archaeology which is why I'm here, and having done that I will have largely achieved my goals so the rest is gravy.

#about the author #cambridgeshire #united kingdom #travel #it me

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simlit · 6 months

Text

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // fifty

| @catamano | @keibea | @izayoiri | @thesimperiuscurse

next / previous / beginning

HIGH PRIESTESS: I want sentries at every door. Put them on the roofs if you have to. KYRIE: What’s going on? HIGH PRIESTESS: There’s been an attack. Elion, you’re not to leave his side. Not one moment. ELION: Understood. KYRIE: What is happening? For once can you just give me a direct answer?! HIGH PRIESTESS: sighs Prince Lucien… he is dead. KYRIE: W-What? HIGH PRIESTESS: Murdered in his own bed. I… don’t know what to think anymore. KYRIE: H-How? Who— HIGH PRIESTESS: The Guard have someone in custody, but I’m not taking any chances. Kyrie, call the Chosen. They are not to leave the premise until further notice. INDRYR: Some of us have already come. If we’re to be locked down, I think we have a right to know why. HIGH PRIESTESS: His Grace will explain to you at a later— KYRIE: Lucien has been killed. ÅSE: Hah? Dead? What is meaning of this? Who is culprit? What is being done?! HIGH PRIESTESS: This is none of your concern. It will be dealt with— EIRA: Like you’ve dealt with everything else? ÅSE: You will deal with me! You tell me what is going on in this city! Nothing is right here! You are all foul! I wish not to share breath with you a moment more! EIRA: Åse— ÅSE: No! I am not to be calmed! That child was innocent, and there is killers crawling all over this place! Where is justice? HIGH PRIESTESS: Kyrie. Get them under control. The trials will be postponed. Soon there will be envoys from Kera arriving. It’s going to be a political nightmare… KYRIE: Is that all you care about? We’ve known the Prince since he was— HIGH PRIESTESS: We will speak later. Elion. ELION: Yes, Mistress. ÅSE: And you, Priest! Are you to be like cattle herd? What have you to say?! EIRA: Åse, stop it. TAIYO: Your Grace? Maybe you should sit down… KYRIE: I’m fine. TAIYO: If you’re unwell, you shouldn’t push yourself. INDRYR: I have something for queasiness. EIRA: I’ll get Eve. KYRIE: Please, I’ll be fine. We should gather the others. We have a lot to discuss.

#ts4 #ts4 screenshots #ts4 story #ts4 bachelor challenge #chosen of the sun #oc: kyrie loren #cc: åse dalgaard #cc: eira #cc: indryr #cc: taiyo hayashi #oc: elion maharis #death tw

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brodygold · 4 days

Text

The Golden Opportunity

A 200 follower special

The sun hung high in the sky, casting its warm, golden glow over the vast expanse of the rolling plains. The dry, rustling grass swayed gently in the breeze as William sat atop his stallion, surveying his ranch. He’d worked the land for years, pouring his blood, sweat, and tears into it, and it had become a part of him. The rhythms of ranch life were second nature to him now—waking before dawn, tending to the cattle, and spending long, solitary hours out in the open. It was a life he enjoyed, even if it was a bit lonely.

Despite his contentment, though, something had been gnawing at the back of William’s mind lately. Strange stories had begun circulating in nearby towns, passed along by ranch hands and traders at the market. Tales of a mysterious group known only as the Golden Army. They were said to travel from place to place, recruiting the best of the best—men who were not only strong and skilled but also held an untapped potential for greatness.

Most people dismissed these stories as mere myths, gossip meant to entertain and provoke curiosity. William, pragmatic as he was, tried not to give them much thought. After all, he had a ranch to run, and he’d always prided himself on staying focused on what was in front of him.

Still, the stories lingered in his mind, especially on those long, quiet nights when all he could hear was the distant howl of coyotes and the rustling of the wind through the trees. He would find himself with a cigar in hand, thinking about what it would be like to join a group like the Golden Army, to leave behind the life he had built in exchange for something unknown, perhaps even extraordinary.

One afternoon, as William rode his horse along the southern edge of his property, he spotted something unusual in the distance. A group of riders, their figures shimmering against the horizon, were making their way toward him. There was something striking about them, even from afar. They rode with purpose, their horses in perfect formation, each rider sitting tall and proud in the saddle.

As they drew nearer, William’s curiosity deepened. Their golden jerseys, vibrant and gleaming, caught the sunlight, reflecting it like molten metal. The leader of the group was a tall, imposing figure who seemed to radiate authority. His golden jersey was trimmed with white, and his horse—larger and more powerful than the others—was adorned with matching gold and white tack. The group approached William’s position at a steady pace, their horses’ hooves kicking up small clouds of dust as they came to a halt a few feet in front of him.

The leader dismounted gracefully, his sharp eyes locking onto William. “You must be William,” he said, his voice deep and confident. “We’ve been watching you for some time now.”

William, still sitting atop his horse, frowned. “Watching me? Who are you?”

The man smiled, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “I am Richard, Captain of the Golden Army. And this,” he gestured to the riders behind him, “is my team.”

William’s pulse quickened at the mention of the Golden Army. He had heard the stories, of course, but seeing them in person was different. There was an aura of power about them, something magnetic and undeniable. Still, he was cautious.

“I’m just a rancher,” William said, his tone guarded. “What do you want with me?”

Richard took a step closer, his boots crunching in the dry grass. “We don’t want you to be ‘just’ anything. We see your potential, William. You’ve got the skills we need, and I believe you’re destined for more than this.” He gestured to the vast expanse of land behind William. “We want you to join the Golden Army.”

William’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Join you? But I’ve never been part of anything like that. I’m no soldier, no competitor. I’m just a rancher.”

Richard shook his head, his gaze steady. “You underestimate yourself. You’ve spent years honing your abilities out here—working the land, riding, leading. These are the very qualities we look for in our recruits. You have the strength, the discipline, and the determination to ride with us.”

William opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Richard pulled something from his pocket. It was a medallion—a round disc made of pure gold, engraved with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer and shift as the light hit them. He held it up before William’s eyes, letting the light glisten off of it.

“Look at this, William,” Richard said softly. “Focus on it.”

William’s gaze was drawn to the medallion almost against his will. The way it glinted in the sunlight was mesmerizing, the swirling patterns pulling him in deeper. He blinked, trying to shake the feeling, but the longer he stared, the harder it became to look away.

“You’re tired of the same old routine,” Richard’s voice was low and hypnotic now, barely more than a whisper. “You’ve worked hard, but there’s a part of you that craves something more. Something greater.”

William’s thoughts were slowing, the world around him beginning to blur. The medallion swung gently back and forth, each movement sending a ripple through his mind. He tried to speak, to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. His body felt heavy, as though the very air around him had thickened, pressing down on him.

“Relax,” Richard continued, his voice soothing, almost kind. “You don’t need to fight it. You don’t need to think. Just listen to my voice, and let the medallion guide you.”

The golden disc seemed to pulse in time with William’s heartbeat, drawing him deeper into a trance. His eyelids grew heavy, and his grip on the reins loosened as his body swayed slightly in the saddle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that something was happening to him—something profound, something irreversible—but he was powerless to resist.

“You’re no longer William,” Richard’s voice was everywhere now, filling his mind completely. “That name no longer belongs to you. You are Clayton now, a rancher in service of the Golden Army. You are one of us.”

*Clayton.* The name echoed in his mind, at first foreign, but then... familiar. As Richard repeated it, the name seemed to take root, growing stronger with each repetition. The memories of his former life as William—the years he’d spent working the ranch, the countless hours he’d poured into building his life—began to fade, dissolving like mist in the morning sun. New memories took their place, memories of riding with the Golden Army, competing in equestrian events, and earning glory for his team.

"You are Clayton," Richard said one final time, his voice firm and commanding. "And you belong to us."

Clayton blinked slowly, his eyes glazed and unfocused as the trance began to lift. When he finally looked up, the world seemed different—brighter, sharper, more vivid. He felt a strange sense of calm and certainty, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The ranch, his old life, felt distant, like something from a dream he could no longer fully remember.

Richard smiled, satisfied. “Welcome to the Golden Army, Clayton. We’ve been waiting for you.”

---

From that day forward, Clayton’s life changed entirely. His ranch was left behind, forgotten like a chapter in a book he had closed. His world now revolved around the Golden Army, and under their guidance, he flourished. The Golden Army was more than just a group of riders—they were a brotherhood, bound together by their shared commitment to excellence in equestrian sports and a life of discipline and camaraderie.

Clayton quickly adapted to his new role. His horse, now fitted with golden tack, responded to his every command with perfect precision. The Golden Army’s training regimen was rigorous, but Clayton found that he relished the challenge. He spent his days practicing dressage, show jumping, and cross-country racing, honing his skills under the watchful eyes of Richard and Jackson, the co-captain. Each day, he grew stronger, faster, more attuned to his horse.

The Golden Army was known throughout the country for their dominance in equestrian competitions. They weren’t just riders—they were legends, revered by fans and feared by rivals. Clayton quickly became a key member of the team, his natural abilities and ranching experience giving him an edge over the competition.

But the true test of his loyalty and skill was the Grand Equestrian Challenge, the most prestigious event in the sport. The Golden Army had won the Challenge for years, but each victory was hard-earned, and the competition was fierce. This year’s event was particularly important, as they would be facing off against The Titans, a rival team known for their sheer physical prowess and aggressive tactics.

The days leading up to the Challenge were intense. The Golden Army’s training sessions became longer and more grueling, with every rider pushed to their limits. Clayton, though new to the team, was determined to prove himself. He worked tirelessly, his body aching from the long hours in the saddle, but the sense of purpose he felt was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He wasn’t just competing for himself—he was part of something larger, something greater.

On the morning of the Grand Equestrian Challenge, Clayton stood in the stables, adjusting the golden tack on his horse. The sound of the crowd outside the arena was already deafening, a steady roar of anticipation. His golden suit gleamed in the early sunlight, and the emblem of the Golden Army on his chest seemed to pulse with life, filling him with pride.

Richard and Jackson approached him, their faces calm but serious. “Today’s the day, Clayton,” Richard said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve trained hard for this, and you’re ready.”

Jackson nodded. “We ride as one. Trust in yourself and in your team.”

Clayton felt a surge of confidence as he mounted his horse, the weight of the moment settling over him. This was what he had been preparing for, what the Golden Army had shaped him into. He was ready.

The competition was fierce, but the Golden Army was a force to be reckoned with. Each event was more difficult than the last—dressage required perfect control and poise, while show jumping demanded precise timing and coordination. Clayton’s horse responded to his every movement with grace and power, and together they executed each maneuver flawlessly.

As the final event—the cross-country race—began, Clayton found himself neck-and-neck with The Titans’ best rider. The course was treacherous, with sharp turns and steep hills, but Clayton’s instincts, honed from years of working the ranch, kicked in. He guided his horse with expert precision, gaining ground with each stride.

The roar of the crowd reached a fever pitch as Clayton and his rival approached the finish line. In the last few moments, Clayton urged his horse forward with a burst of speed, crossing the line just ahead of The Titans’ rider.

The Golden Army had won.

As the crowd erupted in cheers, Clayton was surrounded by his teammates, their faces beaming with pride. Richard approached him, his expression one of deep satisfaction.

“You’ve done it, Clayton,” he said, his voice filled with respect. “You’ve proven yourself, and you’ve earned your place among us.”

Clayton smiled, the name now feeling as natural as breathing. He had found his true calling, his true purpose. No longer was he just a solitary rancher. He was Clayton, a rider of the Golden Army, and he knew that this was where he belonged.

Together, the Golden Army rode back into the sunset, victorious and united, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

#golden army #thegoldenteam #jockification #male transformation #hypnotised #male tf

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ateezlibrary · 2 months

Text

what it takes. (chapter 2/?)

summary: following your mother's passing, the king scrambles to retain power in the kingdom of goseon by ensuring that you are arranged a suitor and wed within a week's time. little does he know, your heart belongs to another that is considered unworthy. how will you navigate a broken heart, an immense loss, and a newfound … friendship, is it? members: wooyoungxreader, mentions of past yunhoxreader

word count: 2,261

genre: ateez royalty/fantasy au, angst, unrequited love, forbidden love, unexpected enemies to lovers

“May I get you anything else, pri—Your Grace?”

You pluck nervously at the lace gloves that creep along your forearms, eyes meeting Yunho’s even in the bed chamber’s dim light. The wedding festivities ended far later than you’d have liked, with endless lines of congratulations and remarks of just how adorable your newborn son-to-be would be as the new face of the kingdom.

He was still adorned in his royal garb, sword nestled in the sheath along his back. You winced at the venom that dripped from your formal title as it rolled off his tongue. You could see the hurt etched across his face, practically hearing the sound of his heart shattered.

“Yunho,” you beg in a hushed plea, feeling suffocated in the billowing white and gold fabric that wrapped around you in layers of silk and gem.

“I’m sorry,” he clips, his voice barely a whisper as he begins to back into the doorframe.

Given your new union to the Gongsam Kingdom prince, you were expected to travel to the allied kingdom in the morning to meet your court to-be and learn more of the logistics in your arrangement. You were familiar with him even before the wedding—Jung Wooyoung.

Over the years, you and Wooyoung had become close friends. You attended lectures together, trained together, danced at balls together. He was as nice as you could expect from a gilded prince, mannerly and well-kept. Though, there was never a distinct charm about him that you could quite place your finger on. Handsome, to be sure, but you would always dismiss the teasing from other the other royal children that he was infatuated with you.

Not to mention, your attention had been immensely swept away in recent time.

With a sigh, you shift from the bed to where Yunho stood. Save for the moonlight that crept through the windows, candlesticks lit the room just enough so that you could navigate your way around. You halt before him, taking note of the way his eyes glaze over at the sight of your layered lace gown and the jewels that hung from your neck.

“You make a beautiful bride,” he remarks sadly, taking another step beyond the doorframe and back into the hall when you grab his wrist.

“Stay tonight.”

Your request urges Yunho to arch an eyebrow, and you swore you saw a smirk dance across his lips before he was once again masked with concern.

“I—I can’t,” he sighs, pressing a hand over yours. “It would be considered an act of high treason to pursue the princess, especially now that—well …”

“That I’ve been sold off as prized cattle?” you scoff, shaking your hand away from his. You were tired of crying, tired of mourning ever since you’d been summoned to that damned throne room. Your voice was hoarse, your face sullen from the sleepless nights leading up to the wedding.

“Prince Wooyoung is a very lucky man,” Yunho remarks after a long pause.

“And what am I?” you ask.

“A little less,” he replies, another solemn smile etched across his face. You watch as nerves prick at his skin, the way he begins to fidget and look around the room anxiously. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve requested a transfer of duty to the northern border, where our guard is stationed in the mountains.” Your heartbeat begins to pound in your ears, the room suddenly feeling too small.

“What?” you manage to get out. The room is spinning, it’s far too hot. You remain frozen, staring back at Yunho with wide eyes in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

“I want you to be happy,” he sighs, taking your hands in his as he continues softly. “You will never be able to appreciate what you could have with Wooyoung if you are too focused on what you have—had, with me.”

Your silence is enough response as Yunho lowers your hands, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead before backing into the hallway.

“I wish you well.”

As the door shuts behind him, you collapse onto the floor with a long, drawn-out sob.

* *

“Welcome to Gongsam, Your Grace.”

The foreign palace guard, dressed in shades of navy and stone, offered a hand to you as you descended the steps of the carriage. It had taken nearly a full day’s worth of travel from Goseon to Gongsam, the journey carried out in a painful silence.

You had kept the carriage curtains drawn for the entire ride, arms wrapped around yourself as you clutched onto one of your most recent letters from Yunho. You read, and reread, and reread, reminding yourself of the pain you inflicted upon yourself by bringing it along. Folding it into a neat square, you tuck it into the satchel attached to your waistband before following after the palace staff.

Guards, handmaidens, and council members dash around you, hurriedly preparing for your grand arrival. Drapings of silver and white hang from towering pillars at the front of the palace, the night’s stars dancing across them. Fountains in the surrounding gardens trickled gently, bushels of hydrangeas and snapdragons dancing across their bases.

The estate was beautiful. Too beautiful.

“Welcome, darling!” You recognize Queen Eunkyung immediately, about to curtsy before her when she pulls you into an embrace. You remain frozen for a moment before bringing your arms around her, fleeting images of your mother’s warmth intruding your thoughts before you pull away.

“We are so excited to have you with us for the season,” she chirps, her eyes dancing like starlight as she beams at you. With a tight-lipped smile, you nod and follow her down the hall to what you assumed were your chambers for the next several months. She tells you stories of their preparations for your arrival, how the kitchen staff were on pins and needles to serve you and find out your favorites.

You come to a halt before a tall, ivory door decadent with silver script and markings. She bows her head ever-so-slightly, an odd gesture from a queen to a princess. About to head inside, you turn back to her with a puzzled expression.

“Thank you so much, Your Majesty,” you begin, bowing your own head in return. “But, where is …”

“Wooyoung’s quarters are just at the end of the hall,” she replies instinctively, pointing a manicured finger towards a door twin to yours. With a final smile, she hurries back to the great hall to continue coordinating the staff for your arrival celebrations.

A deep sigh slips past your lips as you shuffle to Wooyoung’s quarters, exhaustion settling in your bones from the long journey as you rap your knuckles against the door. Almost immediately, it swings open and you freeze.

Standing before you is none other than Prince Wooyoung, in all his darkened glory. A silver and sapphire circlet sits across his forehead, matching the silver of his various earrings. His robes are a deep ebony, mirrored by the kohl smudged at his waterline.

“Well, look who’s arrived,” he drawls, the scent of mulled wine on his breath. “Hello, my darling.” You wince at the sound of “my darling”, knowing it paled in comparison to the sound of “my love”.

“Have you been drinking?” you scoff, watching as he sways to lean against the doorframe with a lazy grin.

“Care to join me?” he offers, arching an eyebrow suggestively. “We still need to consummate the marriage, you know.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why the sudden shyness, princess?” he slurs, turning to stroll back into his room and leaving you to follow. His bed sits at the center, disheveled linens and strewn glass bottles hiding its frame. “We’ve been friends for so long, I know you’re no prude.”

“And I know you’re no drunkard, but here we are,” you chide cautiously, his intoxication leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “What is wrong with you?”

“Wrong?” He laughs, arms thrown out as he does a twirl before you. “I’m celebrating, something you should also be doing.” Staggering to the dresser at the far end of the room, he returns with a fresh bottle of plum wine. He juts it out at you expectantly.

You furrow your brows at him, confused as to how this could possibly be the mild-mannered, cheerful Wooyoung you’d spent so many years with. He was flirtatious, fun, and a bit crude, to be sure, but he had never been one to lose his demeanor like this.

Despite your intense focus on Yunho during the ceremony, you knew Wooyoung was still a well-trained prince and knew all the right things to say—to your parents, to your guests, to you.

Who the hell was this?

“I’d rather not,” you repeat, more sternly this time. “I just wanted to say hello before I retired for the night. Seemed like the polite thing to do.”

“Ever the people’s princess,” he continues to slur. You hadn’t even noticed when he’d cracked open the new bottle of wine and already downed a good third. “Tell me—do the people know you were fucking your guard? Because, we all did.”

“Who’s all we?” you snap, anger churning in your core. You had no idea how he could have possibly known about Yunho. Hatred blinded your vision, blurring Wooyoung’s smug expression beyond your tears.

“People talk,” he replied simply, a shrug as he fell back onto his bed.

“And you will not,” you bark at him, instinctively pressing against your thigh where the folded letter sat. “It’s in the past.” Whether or not you were lying to yourself, was for you to decide.

“Is it, darling?” Wooyoung suddenly growls, appearing sober as ever as he approaches you. His eyes are hazy, yet you can still make out the resentment in them. “Because if I recall, you didn’t look at me once during our wedding.”

You stilled, his revelations throwing you for a loop ever since you set foot in his room. Perhaps it was a mistake to try to be civil with him, after all, considering he’d already decided his emotions towards your arrangement.

“And you’re telling me you wanted to marry me?” you retort, mere inches between you at this point. You can see the hurt reflected in his face, that he wanted this no more than you did. You’d heard rumors of his own scandalous nights with other women, of how he showed no distinction to handmaidens or duchesses that left his bedroom in the early hours of the morning. “I thought we were at least friends.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, both of you glowering and fighting to suppress your own hurt in response to your union. Wooyoung’s chest heaved with the deep rhythm of his breaths, nearly matching yours as you silently took in his features. Undeniably, he was beautiful.

But there was nothing beautiful about the way this conversation was going.

“Good night, Wooyoung,” you say finally, turning on your heel without a second glance at him as you slam the tall wooden doors behind you.

The next morning, you woke up with the expectation that your handmaidens were waiting to draw you a bath, Yunho stationed outside of your door to guide you down to the great hall for breakfast. The sight of cerulean walls that looked nothing like your sage green at home quickly stirred you from that daydream.

With a groan, you kick the sheets off of you and press a hand to your temple. Faint flashes of the conversation from the night prior with Wooyoung come to mind, causing you to groan and roll your eyes.

What an absolute ass.

You were still dumbfounded as to how he had managed to treat you more differently than you could imagine in the years that you’d known him. Last night, he was nothing like you’d ever seen of him. Even at royal balls, you’d shared a drink or two and spend the night giggling with one another, pointing and laughing at gaudy gowns and too-high hair.

Speaking of balls.

“Your Grace?” A faint knock at the door captures your attention and you compose yourself, letting in the handmaiden. “The Queen has sent word that there will be a ball this evening to honor your arrival. She has arranged with the palace seamstress to deliver several of her gowns for you to try on and adjust, if need be.”

“Thank you …” you trailed off, expecting her name. She blinks back at you diligently, and you wave a hand trying to prompt her. “… your name?”

“Ah!” She bows in apology, giving an apologetic smile. “Haneul.”

“Haneul,” you repeat. “Lovely to meet you.”

“I—Thank you, Your Grace,” she stammers, quickly taking her leave. You peer around the edge of the doorframe, down the hall to where Wooyoung likely still slept. Should you go ask him why he was so extreme yesterday?

No, you knew the answer. He despised this arrangement as much as you did, no matter how good of friends you were in the past.

How did he know about you and Yunho?

Without even thinking further about Wooyoung’s suspicions, your mind raced towards your love. Was he faring well at the northern border? The mountains were awfully cold this time of year. He was likely overworking himself, more than any of the other guards stationed at their base. You knew him well enough to know that every time he’d been upset, he would work himself to death.

You sigh again, shaking the hurt that crept up your throat and returning to bed where his last letter lay.

* *

Wooyoung was not at breakfast.

You also saw no sign of him throughout the day, not on your walks through the palace nor when you let in the seamstress to choose your gown and ready for the evening. Queen Eunkyung commented during one of your walks together that Wooyoung was delighted to have company in the palace, making you wonder just how well she truly knew her son.

The front courtyard was bustling with guests and palace staff alike by the time you descended the palace stairs, grand chandeliers hung from the branches of willow trees and long tables covered in dishes of meat, bread, and dried fruit. At the center, partners danced and spun to the tune of the palace band. The King and Queen of Gongsam sat below a canopy of wisteria, two thrones brought to the yard for the occasion.

“Evening,” a voice called from beside you. Turning on your heel, you met Wooyoung’s gaze before it trailed over the silhouette of your gown. He looked dashing as ever, a neatly fitted ebony suit with the circlet sat upon his head. His hands remained in his pockets, bracing him as he leaned against the banister that led to the staircase before you.

“Hello,” you quip, waiting to see if he’d acknowledge his unusual behavior from the night before.

“There are the newlyweds now!” The king and queen call from their thrones, causing the room’s heads to turn towards you at the top of the stairs. Subjects of Gongsam bow and cheer at the sight of you, Wooyoung falling into his role as the beloved prince with a sickeningly sweet grin as he puts an arm out for you to hold.

You scoff, pushing past him and descending the staircase yourself. The crowd barely notices the tension between you, pointing out how they loved your gown and sharing congratulations on your joyful union.

You look back to the top of the stairs where Wooyoung remained, just barely noticing how his jaw clenched at the sight of you.

Joyful, indeed.

#fic: what it takes #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez #atiny #ateez ff #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #yunho x you #yunho x reader #angst #smut #enemies to lovers

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