#its been a bit since i read the books or wrote him so this may be really bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

desideriumwriter · 1 month

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Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was.

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again.

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred.

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated.

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands.

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time.

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud.

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

“What? I’ve just what?”

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison.

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head.

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china.

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open.

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards.

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly.

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.”

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things.

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?”

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug.

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley angst #request #requests

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willalove75 · 10 days

Note

hello hello!! I hope you’re doing well and also super congrats on your baby 🎉🎉

Was wondering if you could possibly write more about domestic Alcina based on that one fic you wrote? Maybe something along the lines of a romantic night in together when it’s stormy outside. I’m a sucker for how you wrote her in a domestic and modern setting and I’d love to see more if you wouldn’t mind ^^’

no worries at all if you don’t take this request!! I just super love your writing for Alcina Dimitrescu and it makes me super happy to read your work when I can 🩵🩵

Hiii! Thank you so much! Baby and I are doing great! He’s the best thing in the whole world, I love him so much🥺😭💕

Thank you so much for the request! An idea for this popped into my head immediately when I read this ask and I’ve been super excited to write it since!! I’m so glad you liked my domestic!Alcina so much! She’s so much fun to write in different settings but a modern Alcina always has me in some kind of a chokehold😂

I hope you enjoy!!

Tags/warnings: fluff, smut, teensie bit of degradation kink and mommy kink, and more fluff.

A/N: ITS FINALLY DONE😭 I proof read this once so please ignore any errors or whatever. Or let me know and maybe I'll fix them (wishful thinking lmao) also soft!Alcina is baby.

Rain pelts against the back door while lightning fills the sky with flashes of white. The boom of the thunder makes the house shake. You find yourself curled up on the couch, staring out into the inky, rainy night as you pout. Usually, you’re not one to pout, but tonight, you make an exception. Justifying your sour attitude by telling yourself if anyone else was in your situation, they would be pouting too.

Today is your anniversary with Alcina, a day you were immensely looking forward to. The two of you have been together for a few years now, and every year Alcina would take the reins and plan what the two of you would do on your anniversary. Extravagant vacations, expensive jewelry, on your one year anniversary she even got you a brand new car meanwhile there was nothing wrong with the one you were driving. Alcina spared no expense and always went above and beyond.

This year, however, you begged her to let you plan the day. She could still arrange whatever ridiculous plans she could come up with; because a three year anniversary normally doesn’t call for a two week stay in a luxury resort on a tropical island, but for Alcina, it wasn’t something she thought twice about before booking.

After softening her up with some good sex and puppy dog eyes, Alcina rolled her blue-gray eyes while a smirk pulled at the corner of her lips as she relented.

“Fine, draga. You may plan what we do the day of our anniversary. However, I still fully intend to book the European getaway I’ve been eyeing for you.” You look up into her eyes as you lay on top of her, resting your chin on your arms folded over her chest, a wide smile gracing your features. Before you can speak she holds up her finger to stop you. “Only on one condition.”

Arching your brow at her, you ask “what condition?”

“In the condition that I finance whatever it is you are planning.” You go to argue and she cuts you off again. “Absolutely not, I will not have you spend your hard earned money on our anniversary. You may plan whatever you like, but you’re using my credit card.”

You roll your eyes at her and groan in disapproval. Before you can register her movements, Alcina’s large hand lands a firm smack on your ass. A yelp escapes your lips; your ass is already red, raw and sore from the night's earlier activities.

“Don’t make me spank that attitude out of you my darling. You know I won’t show you mercy.”

Rolling off of Alcina and onto your back, you cup your ass as you let out a whine.

“God damnit!”

Alcina smirks and before you can recover from the sting, you feel her weight settle on top of you.

“So, have we fixed that attitude? Or is a punishment in order?”

“Nooo.” You whine. “Fine, I’ll use your card.”

“Good girl.” Alcina says as she trails her lips and nose up and down the side of your neck, her skin just barely brushing against yours.

After the multiple rounds the two of you just went, you were convinced that you were tapped out for the night. However, in typical Alcina fashion, she knows exactly what to do to elicit a response from your body. As she places feather-light kisses up your neck, her hands slide up from your hips to the dip of your waist. Her hands travel higher until her fingertips are skimming the sides of your breasts. Even with the weight of her breasts on top of yours, you can still feel the sensation of your nipples hardening against her skin.

A familiar wetness forms between your legs for what feels like the hundredth time tonight as Alcina presses her thigh against your cunt. She smirks at how easily she’s able to arouse you. Sitting up, Alcina hooks one of your legs over her hip and rocks into you, grinding her cunt against yours.

“Mmm, I love how wet I can make you with just a few light touches. My sweet, sensitive girl.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a filthy moan as she picks up the pace. Before you know it, the two of you are rutting against each other, crying out each other's names as you chase your highs together.

The closer your anniversary got, the more excited you were for what you had planned. From morning until night, you had the whole day planned out. For breakfast, you were going to take her to her favorite cafe for coffee and pastries. After breakfast, the plan was to walk to her favorite art museum, which conveniently happened to be only a couple of blocks from the cafe. Knowing Alcina, even though she’s been there hundreds of times, the two of you would be wandering around the museum for hours. Especially since a new exhibit was supposed to open up a couple of weeks before your anniversary. It would be lunchtime by the time you were done at the museum, so you planned to have a picnic set up in the park in her favorite, secluded spot. You spared no expense on buying all of her favorite meats, cheeses, crackers, spreads, and of course, a couple of bottles of her favorite wine: Sanguis Virgnins. After lunch, you planned to walk around the park a bit and then before sunset, head to the beach for a sunset walk along the water. For dinner, you made a reservation at her favorite restaurant that overlooks the ocean. To conclude the evening, you planned to have rose petals scattered across the floor and candles lit around the house to set the mood for a passionate, romantic end to your anniversary.

Everything was set and perfect, now you only had to wait for the day. For days you were on the edge of your seat with excitement, hoping Alcina would love what you’ve curated for the two of you. It wasn’t until yesterday did things go south. A storm warning lit up your phone screen as you and Alcina were having dinner. The storm was supposed to veer off into the ocean and bypass you completely, but as if god himself wanted to shit all over your perfectly planned day, the storm came straight up the coast and landed practically at your front door.

Alcina knew how excited you were to surprise her with the perfect day so she insisted on doing as much as you possibly could. So on the morning of your anniversary, the two of you headed over to the cafe. Even though you were only outside just to get in and out of the car, by the time you finished breakfast and made it to the museum, the two of you were soaked to the bone. To make matters worse, the museum had the air conditioning on full blast, which caused the both of you to shiver as you tried to enjoy the artwork. You weren’t even in the museum for half an hour before you decided to cut your losses and head home.

So here you are, sitting on the couch staring out into the storm and pouting. After you got home, Alcina went to shower. She invited you in but you were too down and didn’t want to bring her mood down also, so you declined her offer and changed into comfy sweats and made your way downstairs to the living room.

“Draga?” Alcina’s voice pulls your focus away from the dark, dreary outdoors.

“Hm?”

“My darling, don’t look so upset.” She says as she makes her way over to you.

“I can’t help it, I am upset! I had the perfect day planned and it got completely shat on.”

Alcina comes to a stop in front of you and lifts your chin to look up at her. When you’re standing you have to crane your neck to look up at her, but when you’re sitting? You basically have to bend your head as far back as it can go.

With her other hand, she cards her fingers through your still-damp hair, gently scratching at your scalp.

“I’m sorry your plans got rained out, draga. But we still have plenty of time to turn this dreary day around.”

You place your hands on her hips, that are practically eye-level with you, and smooth your thumbs over the silk of her robe. “I guess.”

“Besides,” she says as the hand in your hair slides to the back of your head where she slowly grabs your hair by the root, just the way you like it. “You weren’t the only one who planned something for today. And luckily, the inclement weather has no effect on what I have planned for you tonight.”

She gently pulls you up by your hair as she leans down and brushes her lips against yours. “So, what do you say, iubirea mea? Come, show me what you have here.”

Alcina pulls away before you can lean in to kiss her and she grabs your hand, leading you into the kitchen where the spread that was supposed to be for your picnic is laid out on the island.

Picking up a few items and inspecting them, Alcina raises an eyebrow and smirks at you when she recognizes all of her favorite, super fancy meats and cheeses.

“This is quite an impressive spread you have here, draga.”

You pick up a jar of caviar and turn it over in your hands as you speak. “Yeah, this was supposed to be our lunch, which was supposed to be in our favorite spot in the park.”

Alcina’s eyes soften at your words, touched at the thought and little details you put into your plans.

“Well, even though it’s past lunchtime, it would be a shame to let all of this go to waste, don’t you think?” She says, trying to bait you, but you can be just as stubborn as she is. So you just shrug your shoulders, mumbling an “I guess” in response.

She walks around the island and takes the jar of caviar out of your hands. Knowing how much you love her hands, she makes a show of popping the jar open and dipping a tiny spoon into it. When that doesn’t work, she offers you the spoon, knowing damn well you hate caviar. You take one whiff and you scrunch your nose and pull away.

“Oh stop, it doesn’t even have a smell.” She says before popping the spoon in her mouth and slowly closes her lips around it. Always one for theatrics, she slowly pulls the spoon from between her lips and rolls her eyes back and moans in pleasure. “Mmm, delicious.”

When her gray eyes open and meet yours, you can’t help but shake your head and let out a small chuckle at her antics. She leans in to kiss you and you pull back, avoiding her lips.

“Nuh-uh. I am not kissing you when you most certainly taste like fish.”

Alcina rolls her eyes for real this time and sets the jar and spoon down on the counter. To your surprise, she grabs the ball of mozzarella with her hands and pulls a chunk of it off. Splitting the piece in two, she leans her head back and drops the cheese into her mouth. After a couple of chews, since she is never one to speak with food in her mouth, she swallows it and arches her perfectly manicured brow at you.

“Better?” She says, flatly.

You can’t help but smile at her and nod your head. She leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips.

“Open.” She says once you part, still holding the other piece of mozzarella in her hand.

Opening your mouth wide, she drops the piece of cheese onto your tongue and you happily chew it. This time it's your turn for your eyes to roll to the back of your head and let out a moan - only it’s genuine, you’re not trying to put on a show like Alcina was earlier.

When you open your eyes, you open them to Alcina sticking her finger into her mouth, cleaning off the remnants of the cheese. Your mouth goes dry and your pupils dilate as you watch her. She always knows how to get you going and offers you her other finger to clean, and because you’re a total slut for this woman, you part your lips on command and take her finger into your mouth.

You caress her finger with your tongue a few times before Alcina presses down on it, pinning it in place. Her lips part and her eyes dilate as she looks down at you with her finger in your mouth and she slowly thrusts her finger back and forth across your tongue. With each thrust her finger goes a little deeper and deeper and you whimper around it. After one final thrust that goes deeper than all of the other ones, nearly making you gag, she pulls her finger from your mouth and captures your lips in a kiss. Cupping your face in her large hands, Alcina flicks her tongue into your mouth, once, twice, and as you lean in for a third swipe, she abruptly pulls away.

An actual whine leaves your lips before you can stop yourself and Alcina chuckles, brushing her nose against yours. She pulls away and makes her way back around the island, putting a small plate of food together.

Looking up at you, feigning innocence, she cocks her head to the side and asks “aren’t you going to eat?”

You let out a groan, now that you’re almost uncomfortably wet, you rub your thighs together and make your way next to her. Alcina smirks, knowing just how turned on you are. Her little plan to distract you is slowly coming to fruition.

Some time passes by and you end up sitting on the counter while you and Alcina feed each other different meats and cheeses and refill each other's wine glasses well before they need refilling. She spreads your favorite fig jam on a cracker and puts it between her teeth, offering you the other half. With a giggle, you bite into the other half. As you’re each chewing your piece, in an uncharacteristic move, no doubt fueled by the copious amounts of wine you’ve both had, Alcina presses her lips into yours. You can’t help but laugh as she kisses you while you both have crackers and jam in your mouths and you feel Alcina smile into the kiss. She places both hands on either side of you on the counter, caging you in and continues to kiss all over your face, jaw and neck. In a fit of laughter, you try to lean back but she wraps her arms around you and pulls you to the edge, her hips slotting perfectly between your legs.

By the time her kisses come to a stop, the two of you are giggling like teenagers and you wrap your arms around her neck as you nuzzle into each other. When you pull back, you still have smiles plastered across your faces and you see the sparkle in Alcina’s eyes. When you’re this close to her, you can really see the crows feet in the corners of her eyes and the delicate smile lines that line her perfectly plump lips.

Your heart stutters in your chest at the way she looks at you so lovingly. It still amazes you that you were able to melt the heart of the self-proclaimed Ice Queen. There was a time where you weren’t sure if you were ever going to get past the layers and layers of walls she had built up over the years before you met. It took time and patience, but she slowly let her walls come down brick by brick. There were a few times where you thought you were never going to see the real her and you debated on ending the relationship. Alcina always seemed to know when you were reaching that breaking point and even though it was hard and wildly uncomfortable, she tore down a few more walls and let you further in. She showed you the scared girl underneath that cold exterior. The girl that was terrified of having her heart broken again, each time you saw past another wall you melted for her.

There was one time where you were literally walking out the door after an argument over her keeping you at arms length. The only thing that stopped you was the way her voice cracked when she called after you. When you turned around you saw her lips trembling and tears threatening to roll down her cheeks. That night she broke through the rest of her walls and let you completely in. She told you things she’s never told anyone else before. Told you about her childhood, her tumultuous relationship with her family, how they tried to marry her off just to get rid of her. She poured her heart out to you and you knew then and there that no matter what else happened, you were going to be the one that protected her fragile heart from then on.

“What?” Alcina asks as she stares back into your eyes.

“Nothing.” You say as you shake your head. “I just love you so much, Alcina.”

“Și eu te iubesc atât de mult, draga mea.”

(I love you so much too, my darling)

Alcina takes your wine glass from your hand and sets it down next to hers on the counter. Before you can protest she silences you with a kiss. It starts out soft and slow, but before you know it your kisses become more passionate, more frenzied. Her hands slide from your hips to underneath your ass and you grab the hair at the back of her head with one hand and hook your other arm around her neck.

In one swift movement, Alcina lifts you off of the counter and you squeal into her lips. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around her waist. She carries you up the stairs as if you weigh nothing, and heads into the bedroom. Often times when the two of you get to this stage, since it’s not the first time she’s carried you into the bedroom, Alcina will unceremoniously toss you onto the bed and either pounce on you, or torture you by making you wait. As you brace yourself to be tossed, you’re surprised when her grip on you tightens and she gently lays you down, allowing some, but not all, of her weight to rest on top of you.

Alcina looks at you in the most tender way. Her eyes take in every detail of your face and you can’t help but do the same, admiring her naturally long eyelashes, the blues and grays that swirl in her irises, and her lipstick-free lips that look all too kissable. She brushes a stray lock of hair out of your face before cupping your cheek and capturing your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. The kiss intensifies when you feel her lick against your lips and you eagerly let her in. More of her weight settles on top of you when you pull her closer, her hips slotted perfectly between your legs. As you’re reveling in the feeling of her on top of you, Alcina takes you by surprise by taking your bottom lip between her lips and sucking on it, drawing out a moan from your lips. She nips at it before letting it go and dives in for a hungrier kiss. You can’t help but roll your hips into her as she claims your mouth, and she groans into the kiss, rolling her hips into you in response. If she was wearing her strap right now she’d be buried to the hilt and the thought sends a shiver down your spine.

Chuckling at feeling you shiver, she rolls her hips into you again and again, a little harder each time. You desperately try to grind into her but there just isn’t enough friction at this angle and you let out a pitiful whine before you can stop yourself. Alcina smiles into the kiss and slows down before pulling away. She rubs her thumb across your eyebrows, softening the furrow that developed between them once she stopped kissing you.

“Do you want your present now, sweet girl?” She asks as her fingers dance across your skin.

“Mhm.” You hum, nodding at her with a smile.

“As you wish. There are just a few things that need to be done before you get your present.”

“Like what?”

“Well, first things first, this,” she says, tugging at your sweatshirt. “Needs to go.”

Alcina sits back on her heels, giving you space to sit up. Her hands slide under your sweatshirt, letting out a purr when she feels bare skin underneath her fingertips.

“Nothing underneath? Today must be my lucky day.” She teases.

She helps you pull your sweatshirt up, her hands stopping at the sides of your ribs. You pull it over your head and toss it onto the floor. She guides you to lay back down, each of her hands palming a breast as you fall back into the mattress. Cold fingers send a chill down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and your nipples to harden at the touch. Alcina gropes and massages them before squeezing one and dragging her tongue across a hardened peak. A gasp of surprise escapes from your lips and you hum and roll your hips as she mirrors the action on the other side.

Alcina peppers your chest with kisses and small bites, soothing over each sting with her tongue. Once she is satisfied with the marks she left, her fingers hook into the waistline of your sweatpants.

“Next, these need to go as well. May I?”

Your hips roll at the question and you nod your head, not wanting to let her hear the desperation in your voice.

Alcina lets out a tsk.

“Use your words.” She reprimands.

“Yes, god, take them off!”

“Good girl.” She says with a chuckle and she begins to pull your sweatpants down your legs.

Her eyes glow with lust as she pulls them off, realizing you’re bare underneath those as well.

“And no panties either?” She hums. “You spoil me, draga.”

Your sweatpants are cast away, landing somewhere on the bedroom floor and immediately forgotten about. Alcina takes a moment to admire you sprawled out, naked on the bed before her. A faint flush develops on your cheeks and across your chest as her eyes roam over every inch of your body.

“Doamne, ești uluitor.” She whispers to herself.

(“God, you are breathtaking.”)

Even though you’re not sure exactly what it was that she said, you feel your flush deepen and you instinctively cover your face with your hands, a sudden bout of shyness overtaking you.

“No, no, don’t hide.” You can hear the smile in her voice as she takes your hands and pulls them from your face, holding them at your sides but not restraining you. “Let me see you, draga.”

You open your eyes to see her gray-blue eyes staring back at you and you can’t help but smile up at her.

“You are so beautiful, my love.” Alcina says before capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

The kiss doesn’t last long before Alcina pulls away and sits back up. Her hands slide down the hourglass of your waist and down your thighs, coming to a rest at your knees.

“Now, there’s one last thing that needs to happen before you get your present, my sweet girl.”

“What?”

Alcina spreads your legs apart, opening you up wide for her.

“I need you absolutely soaked for what I have planned next.” She says as she drags the back of her knuckles up your already dripping slit, just barely nudging your clit. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” You pant. Her thumb brushes over your clit a few times before slowly circling it. “Fuck, yes, I can.” You moan.

“That’s my good girl.” Alcina says before settling herself between your legs.

She teases your clit with her fingers for a few more seconds and just before you become too impatient, she holds you by the back of your knees, spreads your legs wide, and licks a broad strip up your cunt, flicking your clit with her tongue. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a guttural moan as she repeats the motion over and over again. Just as your legs begin to tremble, Alcina pulls away and removes one hand from your leg. Looking up at her, you see her lips, nose and chin glistening with your arousal and she sucks two of her fingers into her mouth, her eyes never once leaving yours. Heat pools in your belly when she releases her fingers with a pop and they disappear below her. Without taking her eyes off of you, she effortlessly slips them into you. You’re the one who breaks eye contact when she pushes them deep into your pussy and curls them into that spongy spot that makes you see stars.

With your eyes rolling into the back of your head, Alcina nips and licks the inside of your thigh as she gently massages that sweet spot inside. It’s enough to have you moaning her name, but not quite enough to get you where you so desperately want her to take you to. Alcina senses your growing frustration and gently laps at your clit, adding even more pleasure to your body. You don’t feel yourself getting close until she takes the hardened nub between her lips and sucks at it, occasionally flicking her tongue over it. At the first spark of arousal that shoots up your spine, you cry out as your hands grab at Alcina’s head, burying your fingers into her hair.

Just as you’re about to get to the edge, Alcina pulls her fingers out and releases your clit from between her lips. A pathetic whimper leaves your lips and you look down at her in disbelief.

“What-”

“Patience, draga, you can’t come yet.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because I said so. Now be a good girl and spread your legs wide. You can take more of me, can’t you, draga?”

“Yes, fuck, please. Fill me.”

“Be careful what you wish for, draga.” She says with a dark chuckle.

Before you can react, Alcina slides three fingers into your cunt and sets a near brutal pace. You collapse back onto the bed with a cry as she fucks you harder and harder. Your legs tremble around her and just as you’re about to reach your peak again, she slows down, taking your impending orgasm with her.

“Fuck!” You cry. “Why?!”

“I already told you, I’m just getting you ready for what’s to come, my love. Patience.”

She thrusts her fingers in and out of you, keeping you right on the precipice of bliss until she’s satisfied with how drenched and stretched out you are.

After edging you once more, Alcina pulls away all together and sits back up.

“I think you’re ready for your present now, don’t you think?”

“God yes, please!”

“Is my sweet girl's tight cunt all wet and stretched out for me?” She teases as she hovers over you.

“Yes, fuck.” You breathe.

Alcina places a soft kiss on your lips and moves off of the bed and towards the walk-in closet.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

You wait, impatiently, for Alcina to return and when she does, she’s holding a double ended strap-on dildo in one hand, a bottle of lube in the other and a towel slung over her shoulder. The dildo is purple and quite large, both in length and girth; it’s easily one of the biggest toys you own. Now you get why Alcina needed you so stretched and wet.

She sees the excitement in your eyes as she makes her way towards the bed and lets out a low chuckle.

“Are you excited about your present, draga?”

With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, all you can do is mumble “mhm” and nod your head; your eyes never straying from the toy in her hand. Your legs unconsciously open wider for her as she approaches.

Alcina kneels in front of you on the bed and guides you to lay back down before popping open the lube. She coats her end in the lube and makes a show of using two fingers to spread her lips wide. You can already see how wet she is and that her clit is enlarged and puffy. It takes all of your self control to stay where you are and not pounce on her and bury your tongue inside of her. Noticing the look in your eyes, Alcina teases you by slowly rubbing the toy between her lips, letting out tiny gasps as she nudges her clit with the tip. Just as you feel yourself begin to clench around nothing, Alcina slides the toy into her cunt and throws her head back, letting out a satisfied moan.

When she looks back down at you, her irises are all but swallowed by her dilated pupils. Wordlessly, she pops open the lube cap again and this time coats your end in it. You think she’s going to wipe the excess off on the towel but instead, she cups your soaked pussy and spreads the remaining lube all over you. She takes you by surprise when she shoves three fingers deep into you again, making you cry out in pleasure. After a few twists and thrusts, she pulls them out and begins stroking the cock jutting out from between her legs.

“Are you ready, sweet girl?”

“Yes, fuck, please. I need it.”

Alcina lets out a chuckle. “We haven’t even started and you’re already begging for my cock? Such a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” You whine.

She takes a moment to admire how turned on and eager you are, her eyes focused on your throbbing pussy and she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Look at you, so wet and clenching around nothing already. Since you’re so desperate, you’re going to be a good girl and take mommy’s whole cock. That’s fine with you, isn’t it, draga?”

“Yes! Please, please give it to me. I’ve been so good.” You let out a whine as Alcina rubs the head of the purple strap up and down your drenched slit, just barely brushing over your clit.

“You have been a good girl for me tonight, so I won’t tease you too badly. Let me get you a little more stretched before I fuck you into the mattress. Is that alright, sweet girl?” She asks as she slowly pushes the head between your lips and past the first ring of muscle. It's deep enough for you to clench around, but not enough to get any pleasure from, just the sensation of the head stretching you out.

You whine and try to rock your hips to get her deeper, but Alcina grabs your legs underneath your knees and spreads you wide, holding you in place.

“You’ve been such a good girl this far, don’t make me punish you this early.”

All you can do is whine in response and try to not squirm on the bed. Finally, Alcina decides to stop teasing you and without warning, sinks the entire length of the strap into you and you let out a strangled cry.

“Fuck, I stretched you out so nicely and you’re still so tight.” She says as her eyes flutter from the pleasure she’s receiving from her end of the strap.

Alcina pulls out and thrusts back into you again, she does this a few more times before she begins to lose her composure and she pushes your knees so far backwards they’re practically at your ears. At this angle, with you so spread, Alcina is able to pull out and fuck you deeper and harder as she sets a pace that causes you to cry out with each thrust.

“Good girl.” She purrs. “Look at you, taking my cock so perfectly. God, I love all of the little noises you make when I fuck you.”

Just as you feel like your orgasm is about to build, Alcina switches her pace and bottoms you out, with her hips flush against you and begins to grind the cock deep into your pussy. A surprised gasp escapes your lips and you whimper each time she grinds into you.

“Oh fuck! Alcina!”

“I know baby, it feels so good doesn’t it? That’s it, keep taking it.”

Outside, the storm begins to pick up. The room is occasionally lit up by the lightning cracking across the sky and the thunder continues to shake the house. But with Alcina being buried so deep inside of you, neither of you give it any attention.

The room is filled with the sounds of both of your moans and cries and the sound of her hips slamming into you over and over again. Alcina lets go of your legs and you wrap them around her, keeping her close. Your arms wrap around her neck and you pull her down into a sloppy kiss of clashing teeth, tongues and noses. She bites down on your lower lip, nearly breaking the skin and you rake your nails down her back as she rails into you over and over again. She cries out from the mixture of pleasure and pain from your nails. One of her hands wraps around your neck, just the way you like it, and she adds a slight amount of pressure to the sides.

“You take my big cock so well. Look at you, such a perfect little fuck toy for mommy, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Fuck.” You whine as your eyes roll back.

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me, I can’t wait to make you explode.” She says with what sounds like renewed determination as she switches her strokes to long, hard ones.

The new pattern causes you to arch your back into her, letting out a guttural moan. Her relentless pounding causes your orgasm to build once more, this time much more quickly. As Alcina feels you begin to clench harder and tense around her, she lets out a dark chuckle.

“You’re so close already, I can feel how hard you’re clenching. You want to come so badly, don’t you, my sweet girl?” All you’re able to muster is a whimper and a slight head nod. “Tell me, tell me how badly you want to come.”

“So fucking bad. Please, please don’t fucking stop.”

“Oh, I won’t. I’m nowhere near done with you, draga. Especially not before you give me what I want.”

Knowing what she means, you let out a whine and tightly grasp at the hair on the back of her head. Alcina reaches between your bodies and her thrusts falter for just a moment. Before you can even complain, the cock begins to vibrate inside of you and you cry out for her.

“That’s it, draga, that’s it. Don’t fight it, give it to me my love.” She says in an unexpectedly soft tone, especially given how hard she’s fucking you; but you’re too far gone to really notice.

After a few hard thrusts you’re right on the edge and you can hear how wet you are each time she slams into you.

“Fuck, Alci, fuck, please, please, make me, I’m gonna-”

Before you can finish your ramblings, your orgasm hits you like a bus. Your back arches off of the bed and your eyes roll to the back of your head. A scream rips through your vocal cords as the intense pleasure takes over your body. As Alcina fucks you through it, you feel a rush of liquid between the two of you. Your orgasm gets splattered across your thighs and lower stomach as Alcina’s thrusts continue until your body collapses back onto the bed. She slows her pace and comes to a stop, the strap still nestled deep inside of you as you clench around it while your body trembles from the intensity of your orgasm.

Alcina buries her face into your neck and you feel her panting against you as she catches her breath. When you finally come back into your body, because you’re pretty fucking sure you soul was separated from you for a few minutes, you run your fingers through Alcina’s hair and hold her close.

“Holy shit.” You pant. “That was crazy.”

“That was so fucking hot.” Alcina mumbles into your neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever made you squirt that much before, we’re fucking drenched.”

You let out a breathy chuckle and Alcina presses a kiss into your skin. She sits up and slowly pulls out of you and you whine from the loss.

“Oh hush, don’t think I’m done with you just yet.” She says with a devious smile. “I still have to come.”

“How you didn’t during that is actually insane.”

“I came close a few times, but that’s not how I want you when I do. And as you well know, I usually get what I want.”

You can’t help but laugh at her arrogance. Does she usually get what she wants? Of course she does. But you have her wrapped so tightly around your finger that more often than not, you get what you want too.

“Oh? Then how do you want me?”

“Ready for more already?” She asks with an arched brow.

“I will be, I just need a minute.”

Alcina leans down and pulls you into a passionate kiss. Your tongues dance around each other as your hands wander across your bodies. After a couple of minutes, Alcina pulls away and has you flip onto your stomach. She begins to pull your hips up and you get up onto all fours. Before you can get comfortable, you feel Alcina’s strong grip on the back of your head as she pushes you down onto the pillows, face down, ass up.

“Just like that.” She says as she holds your head down and spreads your legs wider.

Even though you’re drenched, Alcina still pops open the lube and coats the toy in it again. Both of you agree, there’s never such a thing as too much lube. Plus, the last thing she wants is to subject you to any kind of friction burn. The two of you have been down that road before and even though it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, it definitely put a damper on the night and kept you out of commission for a couple of days.

She rubs the toy against you a couple of times before slipping it back in. A few slow, long, deep thrusts have you mewling beneath her and you hear her smirk with pride at how easily she can unravel you.

“For my final gift to you tonight,” She says as she keeps her thrusts steady. “You can come as many times as you want.” You let out a satisfied moan that turns into a cry as she thrusts hard into you. “Don’t get too excited, there is a catch.” She says as she returns to her slower pace. “You can come as many times as you want, but I won’t stop until I come. Alright?”

You know if you used your safe word she would stop in an instant. As torturous as the orgasms she forces upon you can be, they’re also other-worldly and there’s definitely a part of you that never wants them to stop, even if you’re a trembling, overstimulated mess.

Eager for her to start, you whine a “mhm” and nod your head. A sharp smack lands on your ass and you yelp both from the surprise and the sting.

“Use your words. Do you understand me?” She says as her tone darkens and the grip on your hair tightens to the point of almost being painful.

“Yes! I can come over and over again and you won’t stop until you come.”

Another sharp slap meets your ass and Alcina immediately soothes it by running her hand over the mark that is definitely starting to develop.

“Good girl. Now be a good little slut and take my cock like the perfect little toy you are.”

Alcina immediately sets a brutal pace, slamming her hips into your ass over and over again. Even if you tried, you wouldn’t have been able to keep the moans and whimpers from slipping through your lips. The grunts coming from behind you as Alcina fucks you spurs you on and you rock back into each thrust, causing her to let out a groan.

“Fuck, good girl.” She says, smacking your ass again. “I love your cunt, taking my cock so perfectly.”

The first orgasm hits you hard and you cry out as you tremble underneath her. It came faster than you were expecting but you’re too blissed out to care that this will inevitably be the first of many orgasms in this position.

Alcina’s pace doesn’t falter or slow down as you come and you whine from the slight overstimulation.

“I told you, draga, I’m not stopping until I come.” She says between pants.

The next two orgasms come one right after the other and you cry out while you shake underneath her. Alcina tightens the grip on your hair and pushes you harder into the mattress while she digs her fingers so hard into your hip there’s no way there won’t be small bruises there later tonight.

You lost count of how many times she made you come by the time you feel yourself losing steam. Her thrusts begin to falter just a bit, signaling she’s getting close. Cracking open one of your eyes, you see Alcina in your peripheral. Her eyes are screwed shut and her lip is caught between her bottom teeth. She tries to keep quiet but you can still hear the small moans and whimpers that escape from her as she gets closer to her release.

With a renewed determination, you slam your hips back into each of her thrusts and she lets out a groan of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, draga, good girl. God, yes!” She says as she throws her head back.

Alcina stops holding back her moans and her thrusts start to lose their rhythm, her low moans and whimpers get higher and higher the closer she gets to her release.

After one high-pitched moan, you can feel the hand in your hair begin to tremble and she releases her grip. Alcina falls forward until there isn’t an inch of room between your bodies, catching herself on her hands that landed on either side of you. She buries her face into your neck and sinks the strap deep into you before grinding down. The closer she gets, the sweeter her moans are when she cries into your skin. With her forehead resting against your cheek, you sink your fingers into her tousled hair, holding her against you.

“Baby, I - I’m gonna -” she whimpers softly into you. “Oh, oh! Oh fuck!”

Her body trembles on top of you and as she fucks herself through her orgasm crying out your name. You hit your peak once more and try to grind back into her as much as you can with her laying on top of you. Your bodies tremble in overstimulation as you both slow down, loud moans and cries softening into quiet whimpers and panting breaths.

The two of you lay there for a couple of minutes as you catch your breaths and come down from your highs.

“I just need a moment and then I’ll get off of you. I’m sorry, I must be crushing you.” She says softly. You can hear the vulnerability in her voice that she lets through only when she’s with you in the privacy of your bedroom.

For someone who is so strong and confident in herself and her body, Alcina also holds many insecurities about her size. She’s learned to accept and embrace the space she takes up, but in quieter moments, she’s opened up about how there are days she hates feeling like a giant. Especially when you’re so small compared to her, with nearly a foot in height difference between the two of you, she often worries about putting all of her weight on you, or afraid she’s going to do something that will hurt you.

She moves to get up and the hold you have on her hair tightens, keeping her against you.

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. I like the feeling of your weight on me. It makes me feel safe.” You quietly admit.

“Are you just saying that?”

“Nuh-uh.” You hum. “I promise. I always feel so well protected by you, but when you’re on top of me like this, I feel like nothing in the world can hurt me.” You say as you do your best to nuzzle into her.

It takes a few moments of an inner battle inside of Alcina before you feel her relax, the rest of her weight settling on top of you. After a quick wiggle to adjust so you can breathe, you let out a content sigh and you scratch at your scalp. Alcina snakes her hands underneath you and holds you tight.

You feel something wet on your shoulder just as you hear Alcina sniffle above you.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice is thick and you try to turn your head towards her as much as you can.

Alcina shakes her head and takes a quivering breath in.

“I’m alright.”

“Baby why are you crying?” This time you try to turn your body a little to get a better look at her but she keeps you pinned in place.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“For what, honey?”

“For loving me. All of me. You have no idea how much I treasure you.”

“Can I look at you?” You ask.

Alcina nods her head and slowly pushes herself off of you before sliding out the toy still buried in you. As you roll over, Alcina removes her end of the you and tosses it onto the towel at the end of the bed. Stretching your arms out towards her, Alcina crawls into them and you place a kiss at the top of her head, holding her tight.

She sniffles again and you pull back from her and place your knuckles under her chin, raising her gaze to look up at you, as she’s done to you countless times.

“I love you so much. Every inch of you. Every part of you, even the parts you don’t like about yourself, I love them and I always will.”

Looking into her gorgeous eyes, she looks up at you innocently. Alcina may be a lot of woman, but in moments like this you see the young girl she keeps buried inside of her. With all six foot three of her curled into you, you can’t help but cuddle her like she’s your size.

Alcina slides her hand into your hair and pulls you into a deep kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made up for when words failed. The kind that conveyed so much love it made your heart nearly burst.

When your lips part you wipe the trail her tears left behind and she lets out a huff before sitting up and wiping her eyes.

“Ugh, well this wasn’t part of the plan!”

You let out a chuckle while rubbing your hands over her thighs.

“Maybe not, but I do love when you’re soft.” Alcina rolls her eyes at you. “What? I love seeing the soft side of my big, bad, intimidating girlfriend.” You say as you wrap your arms around her waist and rest your chin on her chest, looking up at her.

Alcina playfully rolls her eyes at you before wrapping her arms around you and pulling you back down onto the mattress. You let out a surprised squeal and laugh as she pulls you down.

“I’ll show you big, bad, and intimidating.” She says, flippantly snapping her teeth at you.

“Oh no, I’m so scared!” You say with almost too much sarcasm in your voice as you laugh.

Alcina scoffs at you.

“Don’t be fresh!” She says as she goes to tickle you.

“No! No, no, no!” You yelp, trying to squirm away from her.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere!”

The two of you end up in a pile of limbs and laughter before she finally gives up on tickling you. The drastic shift of moods tonight has you absolutely wiped but Alcina convinces you to shower with her before going to sleep.

Once you’re both done and ready for bed, you notice the rain has finally stopped and all you hear outside is the sound of frogs croaking in the distance. Alcina holds you against her and kisses your forehead.

“I truly am sorry your plans got rained out today, draga.” She says. “Perhaps we can reschedule what you had planned for next weekend?”

“You really want to do that?”

“Of course I do! You put so much time and effort into it. All of the little details you decided to add, like my favorite foods or my favorite museum, it means so much to me that you wanted to do all of those things with me for our anniversary.”

“Well, yeah. I have fun when you have fun. Besides, it’s not like I get many opportunities to woo you.” You say with a smirk.

Alcina laughs and kisses the side of your head.

“We shall have to remedy that, then.” She puts her fingers under your chin and guides you to look up at her. “Happy anniversary, draga mea. Ai toată inima mea. Te iubesc atât de mult îngerul meu.” (You have my whole heart. I love you so much my angel).

“Happy anniversary, Alcina. I love you.”

#willalove75 #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8 lady dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #re8 #re8 village #re8 alcina #resident evil village

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violetasteracademic · 1 month

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Hi , I want to ask if you think Lucien was always meant to have a rejected mating bond with an Archeron sister ?

Hello lovely anon!

So.... this is a tough question to answer- because where does always begin in the writing process?

Does it begin in the first draft? Does it begin in the wild prophetic visions you have at three am that you want to scribble down but you don't because you are trying to sleep, but still, it lingers? Does it begin in a beat sheet, a plot outline, a Pinterest board?

I'm not sure if SJM always intended a rejected mating bond. To be completely honest, I go back and forth. I think that Sarah has let a lot of things slip that she wrote that were never going to even be submitted to her editor on a first draft (like the famed Nesta/Cassian/Azriel batwich, RIP and I'm still waiting on SJM to write a threesome). And yet when she shares those things, people almost consider it canon and analyze it to death and use it to prove certain things. At some point, she probably really genuinely considered making Lucien and one of the sisters a couple, but I can't say for sure where in the process that died.

I remember seeing Emily Henry share on her stories recently an addition to her "RIP" character list- as in characters that she had written that literally did not even make it into the book. The first draft of Beach Read was actually a love triangle, involving some local guy who owns an ice cream business or something of the sort who is also trying to romance January. I can see what she might have been trying to do there- give January two options reflecting two sides of her. Ice Cream Steve (not sure if those details are correct but we'll go with it) would have served as a perfect foil to Grave Digging, Bleak Literary Fiction Author Gus. But ultimately, Ice Cream Steve did not even make it to the book. Do we treat him as real? Do we wonder if he may have been a better fit for January? Do we analyze what this means for January and Gus?

I'll get a little bit into the technicality of what developmental editing is and how it can completely reshape a story, erase characters, create characters, and shift their storylines, but what I do know is this- the function of Lucien being assigned an Archeron sister, any Archeron sister, is completely clear: To win him over to the Night Court as an ally and embolden him to help Feyre get away from Tamlin. This is absolutely critical. Lucien's role in the story since this hasn't developed romantically because he is mated to one of the Archeron sisters, it has spun off in a new direction plot wise with the Band of Exiles, Vassa, Koschei, and the human queens- which also develops a tentative relationship between himself and his brother Eris again, with his mating bond hovering in the background. However, his mating bond began this new direction, and it wouldn't have existed without it:

Lucien would not have left if it were not for the mating bond. I believe that is the element that was always true. Lucien's mating bond, be it with Elain, or Nesta as originally planned, was always going to be a plot device. And I can answer where I believe the story of a love triangle at the very least began its groundwork- which is A Court of Mist and Fury. I personally think that as of publishing ACOMAF Lucien and Elain were already done, fizzling out in the developmental editing process, and Azriel and Elain were endgame, but I'm open to those who see it differently.

Before we move on, here are the different types of editors:

A development editor basically edits the story at large. They focus on elements like theme, character development, plot holes, ECT. When dealing with a series, often times an author will provide a detailed packet to their developmental editor before doing dev runs. This is because the developmental editor needs to understand where the story is headed. They need to understand what needs to be appropriately foreshadowed, what themes to highlight, and keep their eye on the big picture so that everything comes to a well developed, emotionally charged, and thematically satisfying conlcusion.

What is clear to me is that Azriel and Elain were being developed emotionally and thematically in ACOMAF:

These are the types of passages that focus on the big picture. Before Feyre's sisters have become Fae, Feyre is musing on what her sisters would be like in Velaris. She thinks about how Nesta would like it, despite herself, and become fast friends with Amren (true) and how Elain would like Velaris, but she would cling to Azriel for peace and quiet. True. Feyre considers how handsome Elain and Azriel would be together if he ever stopped loving Mor.

Developmentally- what is the purpose of this? It's the same book that Lucien and Elain's mating bond is revealed, so why muse on Elain and Azriel as a couple if Azriel could get over Mor, which he now has because of Elain? Meanwhile, Elain is engaged. Feyre doesn't say a word about that. She sees how her sister would want to be with someone like Azriel, and Feyre doesn't even think twice about Graysen because Azriel is right for her sister. This isn't Feyre being an unreliable narrator. Everything else in this passage came to be true.

These are the types of moments developmental editors hone in on to make sure theme and foreshadowing are strong and successful.

Of course this is already after the beautiful moments Azriel and Elain have together- Azriel getting shy and self conscious before dropping one of the most beautiful lines in all the books about being born hearing the song of the wind. Elain already being able to read Azriel- looking to him and smiling and finding comfort and assessing his countenance to see if everything is going okay.

If I'm a developmental editor, and I wanted it to be really clear why Lucien and Elain were right for each other- why would I keep all of this in? Why tie Elain and Azriel together thematically and emotionally? So again, this is where the question "where does always begin" comes into play. Did SJM realize in her first draft that Nesta and Lucien weren't going to work, so she switched to Elain, only to realize that Elain and Lucien don't have chemistry either? Was it after a developmental edit? I can't say for sure on that end. Maybe ACOMAF truly was just setting up a love triangle, but personally I think Elain and Az were always endgame as of the books being published, and trying to explore Elain and Lucien as a couple probably died out before the final draft of ACOMAF and SJM realized Lucien still needed to be mated to one of the sisters, thus ideas about the rejected mating bond started stirring instead and then were hit HARD in ACOWAR. I can see the argument that the door was being kept open for Lucien in ACOMAF, though I personally think Lucien's mating bond reveal was strictly a plot device. But what is extremely clear is that as of ACOWAR the path was set in stone.

Again- these are the things where, not to take credit away from Sarah, a developmental editor really comes into play. If Sarah is going, okay- who is Lucien going to end up with? Nesta? No, it can't be Nesta, even though that was originally the plan. Elain? Maybe, it could be Elain. What does that look like? Maybe it was Lucien and Elain in the pitch packet. Then a developmental editor goes, okay- where are we headed? What are the themes? What are the character arcs and growth we are looking for?

Then we move on to ACOWAR, and both of them were developed to have a theme of choice threaded into their interactions:

What these moments make clear is that the mating bond makes it impossible for Elain and Lucien to get what they truly want out of love with each other- for someone to love and choose them beyond the circumstances placed on them. Lucien wants this just as much as Elain does. They are now thematically connected in that way- in wanting to be chosen above all, despite everything. That's where this Facebook comment makes soooo much sense:

Nesta didn't have any growth or healing to offer Lucien, because thematically there was not really anything there between them. Nesta and Cassian also had this instant, intense connection that could not be ignored or played slowly. Nesta also didn't lose her fiance, she herself saying she had as little at stake in Velaris as she did on the other side of the wall. Nesta had anger and resentment. Elain had loss, which on the surface could thematically match Lucien, but then we dig deeper to learn that they aren't only needing to heal from the loss of love, they are needing to heal from the loss of choice.

Elain was engaged to a man who hates fae. And Elain was always going to become Fae.

Lucien had his history and story with Jesminda since book one. He thought Jesminda was his mate. The woman who loved him for him, not because he was a High Lord's son or because of any other High Fae customs Lucien rejects. This is where you see the development. Lucien and Elain could have worked on an incredibly surface level, both of them having lost their first loves, but deeper themes revealed themselves that showed they mirror each other in a way that doesn't make them right for each other, but that allows them to face what needs to be faced: being strong and brave enough to choose for themselves instead of letting the world control them.

For Elain and Lucien to have made sense together thematically, everything should have been reversed. Elain should have been mated to Azriel, and then Elain and Lucien should have met somehow and fallen in love, and the choosing each other above all, love trumping even a mating bond, Lucien being chosen and loved without question, without hesitation, would have belonged to them.

But again, without the mating bond, Lucien and Elain wouldn't even have met in the first place and Lucien would not have left Spring. So where does that leave us? The mating bond as a plot device. It was literally required to move the story forward, but thematically is anticlimactic for both parties in terms of the kind of love they want for themselves.

So- was Lucien always going to have a mating bond rejection? Probably not. But where in the years long process did all of this reveal itself? Only Sarah knows that. But I think what is quite clear is that it was always going to happen if we start from what is published in the books between him and Elain.

I think it's very possible that SJM did really intend for Lucien to wind up with one of the sisters. But if you've ever gone through the writing process yourself, you realize pretty quickly how many things fall apart and don't work/make sense/are actually anti-thematic to the characters you've created. Maybe she'll tell us one day exactly when Elain and Lucien fell apart, just like Nesta and Lucien fell apart. But we do have to keep in mind that an author like SJM, who was able to sell a trilogy all at once, probably had to have at least a 25 page packet outlining the trilogy and it's development. So- was it Nesta and Lucien in the pitch packet? Was it Elain and Lucien, because even while structuring a pitch she realized Nesta and Lucien would never work while outlining, but thought Elain and Lucien would? Only to discover Elain and Azriel connecting while drafting ACOMAF?

Writing a book is years of plotting, outlining, writing, rewriting, editing, writing again, and sometimes what you come up with is unrecognizable from the plan. And considering SJM contracted a trilogy, she would have pitched in pretty significant detail what would happen in book two and book three. We'll see what Sarah does and does not choose to reveal!

I think that's everything! I love getting these questions from you guys. I still have a cue in my inbox, and I am sorry it's kind of random when my inspiration strikes and I have a clear answer and can quickly think of the passages and ideas! But I will try to get to my older ones that have been sitting for a minute, I promise!

What do you guys think? I know everyone has different thoughts on this and I love to hear them!

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elriel endgame #azriel x elain

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its-actually-minicika · 2 years

Text

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 4;;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them lmao - dubious consent, canon typical violence, lack of Jacaerys, death, blood and gore, Aemond - who forces the reader into holy matrimony in this one (oh yes it's happening), and of course engages in petty masturbation (it's not THW without him going ham on his own hand ♡)

Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)

Author's Note: Low and behold, part 4 is here!! Originally, this was supposed to be a 4 parts series, but that obviously isn't the case anymore. THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I'M SO SORRY - I had major issues with the tag list, and at some point, tumblr wouldn’t let me post this; I unfortunately couldn't solve those problems, no matter how hard I tried, so most of you haven't been properly tagged :") This update is a hot mess, and I haven't actually had the time to read through all the paragraphs that I wrote. I SHALL BE BACK TO EDIT

A huge thank you to everyone who's still following the story, though, and I hope you enjoy!

A war is in its midst.

When everyone else is readying themselves for the following decisive battles, you and Aemond are busy playing house.

Things get heated in Harrenhal, and one must decide when and where to pick their side.

The contact of the hot water upon Aemond’s ivory skin made the man shudder in naught but blinding pain. Achingly slow movements, followed by slow grunts echoed throughout the room – and Lady Tully stilled upon the silken sheets, moving her eyes over the book’s page for the thousandth time since he returned; thus driving all her peace away.

The baths Aemond determinedly took in the raptures of the late-night hours never failed to make her uncomfortable, and keep her on edge. Even so, being forced to hear the pained man move with such little stability and lack of confidence almost teetered the girl to the brink of madness.

Harrenhal had been in shambles since its proud conqueror beckoned his return on dragon back that very eve. Two young maids shouted for maesters, and Alys Rivers nearly caused a scene. As he got off his leather saddle, the Prince all but collapsed from tiredness and blood loss.

'He commanded his features to turn brave and taciturn,' his paramour had told her, 'as to not let a single hint of his condition spread throughout the Keep. My poor Aemond.'

The fool had been reached by an arrow.

An impressive feat, one had to agree – and wonder further on the identity of the courageous shot.

‘Struck right between his shoulder blade and chest,’ she had heard some lost girl utter, ‘It is a miracle he’s still alive.’

… Or the Gods’ cruelest punishment, the Lady compelled within her thoughts.

“Mmhh…” Aemond’s rugged breath deterred the girl to raise her glassy orbs from the confinement of the wilting pages. She schooled her eyes to stay above any level of indiscretion, and gingerly followed the trail of blood mixed with dirt, that seeped into and dirtied the once clear water.

Now that her curiosity was quenched, she could freely look away again.

Half a heartbeat later, she relented and surrendered in the face of his quarrelsome state. The Prince bit the inside of his cheek again, and raised his hand up to allow droplets of liquid to trail past his wounded shoulder… but to no avail.

“You could call in a maid, you know.” Her raspy voice descended upon his struggling body. Sooner than she may have liked, the Bliss of Riverrun closed her eyes, and concentrated on the languid noises that the Prince was making.

Seconds felt like pending minutes, until Aemond One-Eye graced her with a reply.

“I don’t need a maid to help me.”

Then that was that, the young woman soon concluded, returning her attention to the opened book.

'The Philosophies of the Riverlands', however, provided little to no aid to the situation at hand – and her overall station.

For she knew, perhaps far too well, that she had to play a different game than the one they'd engaged in, months prior to her imprisonment in that cursed place.

Insufferable man… she vexed him cruelly inside her head, I hoped by now you would be dead.

She raised one leg from the mattress that embedded her, and shifted it, so as to allow her limbs to hang lowly by the edge of the bed. Her thoughts formed and went as they pleased, but the girl settled on one final reach.

He hadn't even allowed Alys to help him undress. Suggesting her now was a deliberate waste of her time.

Not only that, but she still had to win his trust. Somehow, she promised herself, no matter what it takes, she'd do it.

Forcibly she rose from the bed, and made her way slowly towards his wide basin, fixating her eyes on the stone floor ahead. Her throat closed in on itself, and the girl pursed her lips into a tight line, whilst exhaling through her nose. It took a while for her to calm herself.

"... What about me?" She asked in a leveled tone.

Her gaze met his piercing orb, and the Lady nearly took a small step back. His face long washed the wave of shock from his sharp, Targaryen features – Aemond awaited her next words with a quirked up brow and a slight bite o'r his inner cheek. He seemed more than interested in her meek suggestion.

His wordless approval had left her speechless and, for a while, only her heartbeat emerged in her ears.

The Prince Regent trailed his eye hungrily over her extended arm. He took in a sharp breath as she grasped the rough sponge from his hand, and drained it of the putrid smell. She confidently brought it up to him – and teasingly trailed it over his hard chest, down to his lower abdomen, up again to his slouching shoulder.

"This… will hurt you a little bit." She whispered to him, skillfully averting her face from the man in question.

He gritted his teeth harshly, and almost let out a groan from his parted lips – with his dexterous and long fingers, he gripped the edge of the wooden basin, but dared not to look away from the kneeling Lady – choosing, instead, to focus on singling out her every soft and hard feature.

On her end, (Y/N) dabbed the piece of cloth over his wound gently, chanting inside her head to remain small and taciturn.

He shan't get more of a reaction from me, she promised herself through the span of an agonized huff, as she focused in on the task at hand.

Aemond's white skin revealed itself from the washed patches of dirt, and the Prince sighed a deep breath of contentment, as he felt his body be unintentionally caressed by her. His eye fluttered close, and a slight furrow of his tantalizing brow indicated the uncommon pleasure he took from their sporadic intimacy.

The two remain in awkward silence - the only noise that reached the girl's ears being the rattle of water and the occasional hiss from Aemond.

"... I'm sorry." She strained herself to whisper, whilst her hair fell seemingly out of place. "This looks as if it's painful."

The Prince Protector mirrored her stance, and glanced at her through the thick curtain of long, silver hair – the lilac in his eye complimenting the heatwaves of fire that danced across his marred skin.

"It's not painful." His gruff voice echoed in reply.

"... You –" The Lady began, but stopped on her tracks to level her voice again, by the aid of coughing in the back of her hand.

"You don't have to pretend in my company, you know."

She graced him with a forced smile, one she hoped seemed light enough to fool him. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't make fun of you."

Her eyes trailed over to the harsh stone floor, wrinkling at their sharpened ends – "When I was three and ten," she began, "My youngest brother betted against one of the stable boys: that he could ride faster than anyone on his horse, Middle." Her eyes spasmed close at the memory, and the girl wistfully smiled to herself, "The fool scraped his knees in that dreadful race. Middle threw him right out of his expensive saddle."

As she spoke, she brought the rough cloth over Aemond's shoulder blade, right above his wound, and began scrubbing the dirt that adorned over his skin.

"He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, so he made me clean it, in the stead of a maester." The Lady let out an airy laugh, as her nose scrunched up with a pang of fondness. "I have never seen a boy get so worked up over a simple scratch before."

Aemond hummed in admission – half relieved by the distraction she was offering, and half worried by the impending pain he would soon feel. He shifted from inside the basin, as if to reach for the sponge in her hand himself, but the girl simply laid her hand away.

Her musings came to an abrupt end. She retreated on her steps lightly, and offered the Crown Prince a quirked-up brow.

"You need to stay put, Prince Aemond. Otherwise, I risk causing you more harm than good." She swallowed thickly, and only shook her head, "Your wound needs thorough cleaning, Your Grace. And it is too far in the back for you to clean it by yourself."

She glanced at his face anew, and let out a tumbling sigh as he nodded his head again, trying his hardest to relax into her touch once more.

Part of him remained put up – the bulk of his chest and shoulders still gloriously hunched over, ready to bolt up at any given moment.

"... I hate to admit it. I thought he was exaggerating then – with the discomfort which he feigned was feeling."

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as she glanced quickly at the laying man, "But how can one make fun of another's state of pain?"

A sympathetic look was shared between them.

Her eyes softened in admission to his furrowed brows and descended features. In that exact light, she couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled her Jace.

"Pain makes us human. And it's a reminder for us: to really cherish our times of incandescent joy."

The break of a cold sweat kissed over Aemond's forehead; droplets of which gathered at the base of his left eye, where his leather eyepatch stayed secured.

The girl pushed down a disdainful puff, as her eyes trailed him over, from the rosy blotch of skin, back to his hawk-like eye.

"Leather retains heat." She murmured before she could catch herself.

The Targaryen Prince expelled a deep breath, and, as her hand came to rest over the buckle that secured his patch into place, he primed his lips into a downturned arch.

"It can't be good for you to always keep it on."

"The sight of it frightens others. I don't want it to frighten you."

"I've seen you without your eyepatch before."

"That was different. This time… is different."

The latter of his words sent a shiver down her bent spine. Nothing is different, she was aching to say. Her lips pressed anxiously together, and the girl offered Aemond a curt nod. Just as she was about to pull her hand away from the nape of his neck, the Prince's wet palm came up to stop her.

His fingers shakily entwined with hers. The deep callouses of his hand scratched the softness of her open palm.

For a while, Time herself froze before them.

(Y/N) came to avert her gaze, but Aemond's eye feverishly searched for the relieving clash of hers. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the Lady of Riverrun nearly choked onto the clogged-up air.

His silver locks curled slightly at their ends – the dampness of the room striking its claim over his perfectly straight strands of hair. In his own right, Aemond could be called beautiful. His striking Targaryen features might have ensured the favor of many young maidens, were it not for his rash and impetuous attitude, the bite that rested in his character – which no doubt spread like a disease over his life at Court.

"Look at me." Against his better judgment, and his innermost turmoil, Aemond allowed her small fingers to trail over the buckle of his blinder again. He drew out a comforting sigh, and, with her hand still in his, gently slid the leather off.

He sucked in a quiet breath, as the coldness of the air enveloped his throbbing eyelids.

The poise in his composure was cracking at the seams, with the passing of each second, during which she settled to remain silent.

Eventually, her hand came to rest over his face again. Her dexterous fingers began to leisurely wipe the sweat from his brow, his eye, by submerging them into the lukewarm water, and bringing them over and over to his clenched face.

"I'm sorry." She settled on to say instead, once the breaching of kind words failed to meet her. "No one deserves to be left without an eye. No one deserves such appalling cruelty."

"You appear to be sorry an awful lot this evening, My Lady." Aemond choked under his breath, taken aback by her gentle movements and sainty utter.

"I spend the better part of my days in the company of my own thoughts." She huskily reminded him, "... It's been increasingly easier for me to reflect on my past mistakes."

Wordless from her hoax admission, and desperate to feel her hands explore him further, the Targaryen Prince rose heavily from the dirtied water – his chest coming directly to her field of vision.

The girl let out a cutting gasp, as she turned swiftly on her heel, refusing to glance at his modesty, not any longer than she'd already had.

Her eyelids fluttered close, and she shifted from one foot to the other, but to no avail. For in spite of her desire to run away, the Lady found herself hammered in place.

The proximity between them laid out to be a problem – Aemond let out a frustrated sigh, and turned her head around with the clasping of his untouched arm. Two of his fingers came to rest at the base of her cheek and chin; the Prince let out a satisfied hum, as her body trembled in slight shock at their change of position.

"Gevie…" He muttered to no one but himself.

His cock stood proudly at attention, kissing over his prominent abdomen, trailing long past his belly button. Every now and then, white pearls pooled to the base of his length, weeping from his angry tip, trailing past his stones in the reach of the water below him.

"Look at me." He breathed again, and his sweet Lady obeyed.

She threw him a dejected look: half harsh and cold, half hardened and scorned. The tips of her ears matched the redness of her pale cheeks. Her eyes cast their curious glow throughout every corner of the room, yet stayed away from the scorn of indiscretion that called out to her, only centimeters below her swollen lips.

Aemond's thumb flicked once over her crimson labium, but the man sighed, seemingly discouraged, and settled upon gripping her dainty wrist instead.

"Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda."

The gentleness that oozed from his voice could have had anyone fooled. But not her. The translations of the words he muttered against the skin of her wrist were lost on her, but the Lady of Riverrun still singled out a most protruding word.

He had never failed to call her 'his tormenting love'.

The girl's breath rose and fell with each agonizing word that befell over her face.

"Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa." Aemond sighed against her wrist.

'I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin.'

Her words rang harsh and true inside her head – and, much like it was back then, her heart harbored no honorable intent towards the Trident's Terror.

He burnt your entire homeland, she chastised herself harshly, He killed thousands. Every day, even more find their end by the breath of his dragon. By the way of his wrath.

The ache in her heartbeat rang loudly inside her ears – her every pore aligned with her wish to run away, and her mind was screaming at her to retreat to a corner.

Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.

"Let's… just finish getting you cleaned up, Your Grace" She struggled to finally suggest out loud, through the timid inflection of her outwardly calm voice.

She slithered her face away from his grasp, and began draining the sponge of the dark mud again.

Aemond sighed, and lowered himself back into the cold water – his lone eye never leaving the mould of her smaller frame.

"I heard that conversation… sometimes distracts the ill from the discomfort of the cleaning process, Your Grace."

Now turned to his exposed back, the girl's hand wavered over his punctured shoulder. She waited three, perhaps four seconds, before her arm finally breached contact with the wounded flesh.

Aemond took in a sharp breath, but remained otherwise silent, until she prompted him to speak again.

"How… how did such a thing even come to happen?"

Aemond's chest rose and fell with each labored pant. His eye remained tightly closed, his jaw awfully set. Her question registered into his mind, and a reply formed at the former base of his thoughts.

For a while, however, the One-Eyed Prince remained quiet – weighing the option of telling her the truth rather carefully.

"A Frey company was marching South." He hissed as her light hand came over his flesh, applying soft pressure in its wake. "The fog of the morning masked them from me – but Vhagar's shadow still went right above their heads."

The woman brought her free hand to rest over his lower back, and her fingers rubbed soothing circles into the dampness of his skin. "It was… very lucky that you didn't get more hurt."

She scorned herself inwardly, but kept her curiosity at bay. She wouldn’t ask him whether the company had risen victorious, or if he burnt all those men to the ground.

The latter option, in any case, seemed more than likely.

The Crown Prince tensed visibly, but didn’t scoot away from her soothing touch. A deep sigh parted from his cracked lips, and the man revelled at their sudden closeness.

He ached to talk to her, to plead with her to welcome him inside her heart – and into her bed. He could feel his own beat loudly, and his body trembled in unquenched lust and rage.

Still, he knew it was too soon for that.

Not once during their rash acquaintance, did the girl before he talk with so much interest about his day with him.

His thoughts trailed to Alys, and Aemond wondered if half her new admission was owed to her – if indeed the two women secured a friendship within the last two weeks, if his whore became her confidant, if she breathed in her trust in him.

He would have to talk to her later. Thank her, if he was feeling apt and generous.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in the shell of his ear, and the Targaryen Prince nibbled at his lower lip. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down; the coldness of the water gave him the strength to concentrate, by the sliding of small ripples down his exposed chest and abdomen. The ache of his wound was a small price to pay, if only to feel her knuckles working against his back.

"There we are. All done, Your Grace."

She rose up from her kneeling stance, wincing at the sudden change of perspective, and at the throb of her tired knees. She gingerly presented the clean set of clothes and bathing robes to him. Her head remained turned to the side, and her hand instantly let go of the heavy clothes, the moment his palm came into contact with them.

In the stead of returning to sit idly by their resting place, the woman graced him with a final look, and let out a faint mutter. "I'll leave you to it."

She wavered but a moment, and turned her stare to the ruined clothes; the ones that Aemond had so carelessly discarded on the floor, as he prepared for his undeserved nightly soak.

The shadow of a long-laid plan gleamed beneath her silent gaze.

"I can wash them for you tomorrow – after my bath. It might be wiser to keep the nature of your wounds hidden. The maids needn't worry over how much blood you lost."

Aemond's brows furrowed in slight shock, and the Prince remained wordless in the face of her sensible suggestion.

And yet her eyes spoke with so much sincerity, that he gleefully allowed the pang of hope to warm his unforgiving features.

"As you wish." He rumbled out, while forcing himself to move his stare to the folded clothes before him.

His eye trailed back to his hands' agile ministrations, and Aemond soon began to roll over his linen breeches, covering his half-hard cock with the help of the rough material.

A throaty groan etched from deep within his throat, however, as he reached for the pristine shirt.

The girl stopped in her tracks, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

The struggle he was undergoing would have been music to her ears – were it not for the solidarity of her position. For the millionth time that night, she reminded herself of her plan and her desperation to escape.

Thus, unbeknownst to her own better judgment, the Lady compelled herself to seek him further.

Although her words failed to assist her, the way she gingerly reached, with her hand wide and outstretched, made Aemond aware of her pending intent.

Their bodies were inches apart. The girl sucked in a hurried breath, and neglected to exhale it as the oxygen hit her lungs.

Aemond was burning up – and whether that was from the lack of fresh air within the confining room, or the first telltale sign of fever, or her – he was lost on saying anymore. His weakened arm slithered into the sleeve of his shirt, though the pain was long forgotten.

And instead of focusing on his poised movements, his glassy eye ran hungrily over her face and hypnotic features.

(Y/N)'s fingertips grazed over the light material. Her tired eyes softened at the familiar feeling. The threat of tears beckoned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them all away in a hasty movement. Melancholy ate away at her, far more often than she knew was wise to allow.

Still she remembered, if only for a moment, the raptures of Jacaerys' warm embrace. And how, in the heat of summer, that very same cloth felt against her heated cheek.

They must have had the same seamstress, the same tailor. Of course, she thought to herself in a bitter manner, after all, they are both Princes.

… Were.

But if she closed her eyes, she could pretend – No, she chastised herself fully, such a thing just cannot be. And you'd be a fool to attempt to it.

The magnetic pull between them trebly pried the two souls together. And it would be yet another minute, until (Y/N) finally took a step back, opening her mouth to announce the end of her intimate task.

Her eyes fell on the stone hard floor, and she carefully turned her back around him.

The long waves of her hair shifted over her modest nightgown, covering her mounds of flesh with a slight shift to the left.

"I'm going to sleep." She pathetically uttered, as the warmth that emanated from Aemond's form not moments prior, still fell heavily over her slight frame.

Mechanically she gripped the satin sheets and engulfed herself with them – a slight comfort came over her, as the coldness of the unused bedding fanned gently over her scorched limbs.

Aemond remained stuck in place, and a heaved breath rumbled from within his chest. The red in his cheeks would have put both their Houses' seals to shame – For once, he was glad she wasn't looking his way.

***

The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.

And his Lady might have made it up: the dip at the edge of the bed, the smell of fresh pine and wildfire that caressed her in her sleepy state, and the slight "Thank you" that dabbled from her captor's lips.

“You plan to ride on dragon-back again? So soon?” The echo of Alys' voice carried her worry throughout the silent clearing.

The first rays of sunlight caught flame into her raven hair, lighting her features in such a way, that it accentuated her every perpetual scar and wrinkle. The fire inside her eyes could rival the one of a trueborn Targaryen, were it not for her strong outer appearance.

Aemond moved his body at a leisurely pace, not even bothering to throw the woman one of his usual vexing looks.

"Do you think dear nuncle will put a stop to the siege of the Twins, should the word spread about my condition?"

His cutting words rendered the woman speechless, and the Rivers witch simply clicked her tongue, whilst glancing at the green grass below her.

"War awaits no one, my dear." He asserted definitively, as he gripped onto Vhagar's long bridles.

The mighty beast let out a shaken roar, as Aemond winced once his wounded shoulder made light contact with her dark-green scales.

"Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar." He instinctively reached for her, and caressed her lower belly with one of his gloved hands.

At their calm exchange, Alys bit over her lower lip, harshly enough to draw her own blood. "You should stay." She managed to draw out, "At least a while – going in search of your uncle today, instead of tomorrow, won't make a difference to your brother's cause."

But her voice of reason reached deafened ears. For Aemond Targaryen was set on paying the debt he owed. The debt he agreed to take on, the moment his dragon clasped onto Lucaerys, swallowing the bastard whole.

"Everything matters at war, Alys." He hummed impatiently, while snapping his head in her general direction. "What do you think will happen to you, should Daemon reach Harrenhal? Your pretty head will rest near mine, impaled on a sharpened spike."

But if she told you to stay put, you would do just that, wouldn’t you? Her bitter thoughts chewed her conscious away.

Alys spat out a lowly curse, as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "Daemon Targaryen was here once, not long before you. He didn’t kill me then."

"Because you didn't matter back then." The Prince Protector of the Realm hissed through painfully gritted teeth, "You were no one to him. You were a wet nurse who merely spread her legs for him."

The man turned his back to her, as he wordlessly bound Vhagar's bridle over his wrist again and again.

"And last I checked, your cunt failed to inspire him."

Her mouth parted in a silent protest, and her green eyes widened in partial distress. "Still I should remain in luck," She choked out through a breathless laugh, "for it has never failed to inspire you."

"You are perfectly right," Aemond's laughter was humorless and brash, "And it is because of this loose cunt that Aegon nearly lost the support of Storm's End."

The Prince spun around on his heel's end, and trapped the woman in between his hard chest and restless dragon. "Sometimes I think you cost me more than you're worth." He whispered calmly into her ear, while trailing his index finger over the sharp edge of her jaw. "For speaking back to me, I could have you executed."

The finality of his words drew her body closer to the ancient beast, and Vhagar let out a displeased grunt. Amusement pulled at the corners of his downturned mouth.

"Still you should remain in luck," He mocked her with an airy laugh, "I find myself in an exceedingly good mood today."

The back of his hand came to play with a loose lock of her messy braid, and the Prince smiled at her stance and her bewildered look. "But you've been a most useful asset, haven't you, my dear?" He obliged her with a teasing smirk, "Lady Tully responded well to you, hasn't she? Tell me," He paused momentarily, as he trailed his hands to the narrow middle of her waist, and back up again. "Have you kept up your training with her?"

Alys' face fell into a frown, as she staggered a frustrated look. Aemond was toying with her.

"That dull book she pretends to read at night has the maps of three secret passages hidden amongst the latter pages. Two of them lead to that cell into the West Wing – but of course, she doesn't know that. The third one leads to the stables of Harrenhal."

Aemond hummed pleasedly, and the man soon took a wide step back, allowing his paramour enough space for proper breathing. "You did well." He smiled wistfully, "I should reward you well tonight. You may think of something you desire. I will see to it once I return."

"I would very much like you to stay and heal today." She urged him not a heartbeat later, surprising even herself with the intensity of her tone.

Aemond's composure broke with the licks of roaring laughter – one that was empty, and fell devoid of any feelings of fondness or grief.

"Think of something else." He urged her coolly, and dismissively pushed past her, to reach for his dragon's saddle.

"'Tis a good thing you shall never be a wife, Alys. The role of the worried wench doesn't suit you one bit."

"Keep feeding her half-truths and lies." He encouraged the woman with a final reach over her hand. He squeezed once over her balled-up fist – acting as both a promise, and a taciturn warning on what should happen, should she let him down again. "Regarding whatever else she may have to say… you'll report it back immediately."

With that, the Kinslayer of the Trident took off, leaving the promise of bone and ash behind his dragon's menacing ascend.

The Eyrie was, on all accounts, smaller even than Maegor's Holdfast. Inside the stronghold nestled the Arryns, hidden deep beneath the illusion of the smallest stronghold of the main seven Kingdoms. Despite its intermediate size, the Keep of the Giant's Lance deemed itself one of the safest places to be – Hardly a lie, especially now, Cain Waters ineptly hummed, once his wobbly feet carried him over the stoney threshold.

Despite its less-than-imposing size, and lack of sheer volume, (Y/N)'s sworn shield felt himself smaller than ever before.

How would he dare account for his whereabouts? Reason his shortcomings?

How could he hope to explain to his Lord that not only did he return empty-handed, without his beloved granddaughter on horseback – he returned without the notion of a hand at all?

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, it was Mira Florent who rested loyally by his side – her strength and stability allowing the Waters bastard to lean into her, if only for a fleeting moment, during the ascend of the narrow stairs.

"Take heart," She whispered, "Your Lord is a kind and understanding one. You won't be facing trial for this."

His mere reply was a solitary grunt, and a quick smile, dejectedly thrown her way.

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, Albar had remained behind. The mute man shrugged his head decidedly when Cain gestured towards the waiting castle, and Mira explained to him that the Vale scarcely left him feeling safe and wanted.

And he understood, perhaps far too well – the feeling of dejection a bastard boy felt, as he stepped foot into the land of his birth.

***

He'd been granted the comfort of a Maester and a hot soak, almost immediately after his appearance at the Arryns' Great Door.

The Lady of the Vale proved to be a kindred spirit, capable of great nurture, despite her lack of heirs to her family's ancestral throne. She gasped loudly at the sight of him. Her eyebrows furrowed in grave distraught, and her lower lip trembled as the healers informed her of the state of his right hand.

Her searching eyes reminded him of the ones of his own mother – neither particularly warm nor cold towards him, but fair and just in their own accord.

She almost decided against calling upon him to the Trouts' Black Council, but the young Oscar Tully had entirely different plans.

His eyes, as they were, were socketed by a deep, but elusive brown. They spoke and reminded him of a whole different tale than the one of his fair, poor Lady.

And it was Oscar's eyes, so similar in shape to hers, who bore ghastly holes into the back of Ser Cain's skull. His arm rose up, as if to cut off the man's retelling – his nostrils flared up in disgust, and his face twisted into a painful scowl.

"So what you're telling me… is that you failed to bring her back."

Cain's eyes hardened at her brother's words, and the knight nibbled on his lower lip, in an attempt to calm himself.

Although a brave and honest man, he dared not look in the eyes of Lord Grover Tully – he dared not see what lay beneath his wilted face. Thus, all his attention focused in on the chirping lass.

"Aye, my Lord." He mustered up to tell him, "I lost her to the One-Eyed Prince. We escaped Harrenhal, and managed to get as far as the Saltpans, but –"

The boy scoffed at his attempt to pardon and explain himself. He nodded affirmatively, and scrutinized Cain with his piercing gaze.

"You returned with an empty hand, Ser Cain. You failed: miserably."

His back straightened in an attempt to appear bigger, and the hot-headed lass rose from his chair in a hurling daze.

"Because of you, my sister is in the hands of that cycloptic freak. Because of you, we don't know anything about her whereabouts. She could be tortured, enslaved, sullied – worse!"

Lady Jane Arryn clicked her tongue in disbelief, and beckoned her guard to guide the boy back into a sitting stance.

"That is quite enough, Oscar." She asserted calmly, "We have no evidence of such a feat."

"Of course we don't!" The young Lordling huffed annoyedly, jolting on the brink of madness, "The deranged cripple wouldn't reply to any of our ravens!"

His face contorted animalistically, the freckles on his face being taken by the deep shade of crimson that coloured in his plumper cheeks. "And with you here, Waters, we don't even have the certainty that (Y/N) is still alive!"

"Oscar." Grover's deep voice echoed a warning through the quietness of the tiny Keep.

As if struck in the face, the youngest of the Tully brothers shifted in his seat again. "My sister's fate is breached unknown," He cried out in a collapsing tune, "She's our family, grandfather, my only sister! Pray tell, why does it look as if I'm the only one who gives a damn?"

The graying Lord and the narrow Lady both leaned towards a perplexing look. But before any of them could reply to his laid-out challenge, (Y/N)'s brother urged them further, as he hissed through his gritted teeth. "It would have been better for you not to return at all, Ser Cain. It would have been better for all parties involved to have sent me in his stead, Grandfather!"

His shoulders slouched forward, and the brazen boy fought with Grover's intense stare. "Had I failed, I wouldn’t have even returned at all." Oscar roared over the silent council, proclaiming his intent with a defying raise. "I would sooner have died, than see her be taken by that monster again."

"What would you have had me do, boy?!" Grover Tully raised his voice in turn, "You fool. Would you have had me send you away for her? Do you think your death would have made you a martyr?!"

Cain's lips pursed into a tight line, as the Riverlords before him bickered further. Even Lady Jane Arryn seemed to be left speechless, unsure of when or how to stop their arguing.

Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.

"Do you think," His Grandfather uttered, "that if you were to die, anyone would remember you fondly?!" The red in his cheeks matched the one on his grandson's face, and the elder Lord broke out into a coughing fit. "Your sacrifice would mean nothing. And when the dust settled over Westeros, and the war was done, you would just be another casualty. Another body to burn in a communal."

Almost immediately, his eyes softened, and their deep creases faltered on his face.

The Lord of Riverrun grunted in fatigue, but still rose himself securely on his two able feet. He marched towards the huffing boy, and placed a wrinkled hand over his sweaty forehead, urging him to quiet down.

"It's not about glory, Grandfather." He spat out lowly, as his ears began to match his fiery locks of curly hair. "It's about family. Our family. It's about ensuring its survival."

The older man gave the lass a curt nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and turned to the knight with a downturned smile.

"There wasn't a knight more fit for the task than Ser Cain." He confirmed his judgment with a tired gesture in his direction. "He was knighted at five and ten. You are over your seven and tenth birthday, boy, and haven’t been even mirthed a squire."

Oscar sucked in a protesting breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall before him. His brows furrowed in a dangerous quarrel, and his blood ran hot. "Yet even with all the skill in the world, he still failed."

Lord Grover was losing his patience, "Yes, grandson, that he did! He failed, despite all the signs that pointedly told us otherwise – do you think you'd do an equitable job? When you haven't even once crossed swords in a Joust or Tourney?"

Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.

She whispered to her waiting guard, and the man took a step ahead, hitting over the chantry with the hilt of his sword.

The noise that erupted grabbed the attention of both grandson and grandfather.

"The turn of events marked by Ser Cain's departure means we need to readjust our plans." She commanded their heed calmly, "It is… unfortunate; that Lady Tully's sworn shield failed to protect her. Yet here we all stand, warming our bottoms on a mine of gold."

Cain should have been grateful for the distraction she was offering. All the displeasure surged upon him evaporated within the click of her tongue, and less conventional language – still, even he had to remain weary on the subject he opened.

"On a mine of gold?" Oscar spat out sharply, feeling his self-control disperse by failing him again. "My Lady, do you think my sister's condition is a situation of great rejoice?"

The Lady's blue eyes cut through the boy deeply, and the young man closed his mouth in embarrassment, before sitting down again.

She reached for the goblet of wine, and wet her lips with it, "Our strategical situation couldn't be better. Not once have we had a spy of Harrenhal successfully return. In truth, we didn’t even think it possible." Her lithe hand pointed towards the bloodied knight, and her eyes glimmered in mischief, "Yet here stands our living proof."

She elegantly rose from her ivory throne, and signaled the man to take a seat at the bent table. As he gingerly followed her lead, the woman spared him with a kind glance, and met his glance with her deep azul gaze.

"From what I gather, you spent the better part of a month undetected in the Strongs' Keep. Is that true?"

Cain nodded stiffly, and rested his bulky hands over his tired knees. "Yes, my lady. That I have."

"And you were knighted at fifteen?" She alluded to what was early spoken.

"Yes, my lady."

"By Lord Hunter Redwyne." She urged him to clarify, through the edge of a quirked-up brow, and the callings of a small smile pulling at her dusted lips.

"Yes, my lady. The very one."

Lady Jane hummed, seemingly satisfied by his short answers. She turned her attention to Lord Grover and his tiresome grandson, and merely asked Ser Cain again.

"And you faced the Kinslayer in combat, cut by a Valyrian blade, and lived to tell the tale?"

"... Aye, my lady."

Oscar's eyes remained unyielding. But Grover Tully glanced at the man before him, and offered him a wordless bow.

"Tell me, Ser, how would you like to command your own battalion?"

"You have to be patient." Alys chastised her deeply, as her luring features turned from flaccid to sharp. "Hardly enough time has passed since your last attempted escape – Aemond is still very much on edge."

The Lady's eyes turned to her. With the bridge of her nose scrunched up, and her fair features molded into a desperate plea, the girl looked more like a lost child, than an able and resourceful Lady.

Alys regarded her as such, and sighed deeply as she grasped onto her shoulders carefully.

"If I wait any longer, it'll be too late. I've already wasted three moon turns in this cursed Keep. I have to return to my family." The Tully spoke decidedly, leaving behind no room for arguing. She took a seat before the tiny mirror, that breached her modest vanity – a recent gift from Aemond, deduced by him to make her feel more like a proper lady.

The image that reflected within it looked at her like a dire stranger. The green silks she was dressed into, the pristine, braided hair that framed her pale cheeks perfectly; She was the vision of a flawless royal, a soft and polite maiden, untouched yet by the spoils of death and war.

'Would this be enough?' She asked herself desperately, whilst gripping the edge of her chair painfully.

Was this what Aemond had always wanted? The proof of her lack of autonomy, finally presented to him on a silver platter, as he returned from war every night?

Was he, perhaps, congratulating himself, every time he glanced at her, thinking himself master of the universe for making her arch and kneel?

Alys shook her head once more, and rested a hand over her bouncing knee.

"Patience is a virtue, Lady Tully. You needn't put yourself through any more unnecessary risks."

The Lady of Riverrun shook her head vigorously, finally snapping herself back to reality; Her actions were defying, and devoid of any capacity. Alys felt herself more confounded by the second. "I'll help you plan this thoroughly." The wood witch adverted. Her head quirked to the side in an encouraging gesture, and the girl nodded feverishly in reply.

Her green eyes widened in fair delight, and Aemond's lover lowered her gaze over the girl's book. "You memorized the passages well enough. Very soon, you shall put your knowledge to practice."

(Y/N) let out a tired sigh, and graced the older woman with a pleasant smile. "I'm lucky to have you, Alys" She played with her rings as she spoke, "Thank you. For everything."

As the elder woman finally left her Quarters in favor of bringing out the order for dinner, (Y/N) let out an aggravated groan.

Her long pretense would surely make her nauseous. But she would be a simpleton indeed, to place all her trust in Alys.

The walls preleened with the doom of silence. A cold breeze dug its way deeply into her spine, and the silent taste of passing and demise left a sour taste in her parted mouth.

***

Aemond began dinner as he wontedly did every day – praying to the Warrior to grant him strength in battle, to the Smith, to mend all that was left broken, to the Father, "to shine his light", and lead their souls out of the brink of darkness.

Each and every time, without fail, the girl would bring the pristine napkin to her mouth, masking the obvious way her lips would quirk into a most unyielding smile. His pious speech, and the way his hands painfully clasped together, begging for the blessing of resolve, made her scoff in blinding wonder.

Was he even aware of the words he mostly muttered? Did he ever stop to assess himself throughout the day, and realize the sin in which he debaucherously bathed in?

As his speech came to an end, the Lady preleened forward, grabbing a hold of the boiled-up stork.

How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.

"You've never been one to speak much during our time spent together." Aemond remarked through the rumble of a solitary hum. "Yet I had hoped this last week softened your resolve, My Lady."

Her eyebrows rose in slight discomfort, as her eyes focused on the leisure movements of his bigger hands.

So he was softening up.

She opened her mouth almost immediately, but her hesitant eyes danced around his blinding stare. Her plump lips pressed into a hard line, and she exhaled loudly through her nose, in an attempt to ground herself.

"Not at all, Your Grace, I assure you." The cluttering of her fork came to a hoisted end, as Lady Tully aligned her head to focus directly on the One-Eyed Prince. "I should love nothing more than to talk to you… Please, do advise me on what you would like most to hear."

She fidgeted nervously with her silver rings – a quirk she developed whilst imprisoned in the Strong's Keep – and gingerly awaited his reply.

Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.

The stillness in her speech and eyes drove the man effectively wild.

"Aemond." He stilled her faction through the reign of a distorted sigh.

She regarded him with a petrified stance. Her hands fell heavy over her legs in the wake of anticipation.

"... I-I beg your pardon?"

"Aemond." He repeated his name again, "We already break bread and sleep in the same bed." His lilac eye rose from his plate, and singled out her reddened cheeks. The man paused a while, as if to weigh his words carefully, and his cold, glassy orb, hungrily ran over her form. "It seems inevitable that we'd call each other by our given names. Yet you never once said mine throughout."

The girl could feel her throat dry up. While still maintaining his awkward stare, she reached for the glass of wine that rested by her left side. She wrapped her hand around its stem, and brought it to her paling lips.

The liquid courage slid down her throat in a quick, though burning manner, and (Y/N) had to swallow down an erratic cough. Her brows furrowed amidst, as she picked her words out slowly.

"I have called your name before, Prince Aemond. Many times throughout the moons, in fact."

He smiled at her perturbed reply, and shook his head in coy distraught.

"Not without the honorifics." The man clarified in a pleading tone, his voice growing hotter now. "... Just say my name." He sighed defeatedly. His hand gripped the edge of the table, silently, as the Targaryen Prince could feel his mind running with a thousand thoughts per passing minute.

The silence ate at him alive. She drowned the wine in a swift swing, and slouched forward to pour herself another glass.

She was too sober for this.

Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.

Part of her wanted to pluck his eye out. Part of her wished nothing more than to make fun of him. Laugh, perhaps, at his desperate indiscretion. Do something – anything – to gauge a reaction out of him.

Any sort of reaction, that would make her pestering feelings for him leave her heavy soul.

Surprising even herself, adamantly going against her own wishes, the woman caught herself breathing out.

"... Aemond."

Unexpectedly he moved, by jumping to his ready feet, fully disregarding the oak chair as it hit the floor in a most perused manner.

The pang of noise alerted her, and seemingly, the guards outside. A while they remained in silence, listening in to the clash of metal that announced their unsure shifting.

But they wouldn’t come inside. The girl was lest aware of that.

As time pressed on, Aemond remained hammered in place, heaving out his weighty breaths and clasping his hands in aching fists.

Her eyes momentarily left his shadow – to turn again towards the poach of wine, and empty another glass in rapid gulps.

The heavy atmosphere inside the room hung lowly over their tired heads. (Y/N) resumed her mellow eating, wincing at the shakiness within her hands. She grabbed another piece of the boiled meat, though Aemond's stare soon made her drop it, and the girl clicked her tongue in disbelief; grabbing it instead with a piece of cloth, and securing it into a tight knot.

This time, it was her actions that had failed her. And perhaps it'd be her ready words that would prevail.

"Aemond." She spoke again, this time more confidently than before. The bitter liquor was burning her throat, her chest, her heart. She felt her limbs heavy – with both anticipation and frustration - borne out of lack of relief. She wanted to slap him, to hit him, to crush him beneath her feet.

She wanted to run away, to stay confined, forever inside this room, forever astute to what was going on in the outside world.

She wanted to feel something.

She wanted…

"Yes." Aemond encouraged her softly, and her attention came back to the raptures of the present tense. "There we go." He worded out, keeping his tone barely above a whisper.

Neither could tell when or how it happened – but Aemond's body was inches away from touching hers. The heat emanating from his beating heart washed over the meek form of the tipsy Lady. His Lady.

She gulped painfully, and the Prince could feel how his hands started spasming with the need to feel her. His nails bit the inside of his calloused palm, leaving deep and angry marks inside them.

His prominent veins shifted with his every faction. His face morphed into hopeful disarray.

"There we go." He repeated gently, "I want to hear your laughter. You never once laughed with me."

Her stare was hard to decipher. And yet confliction danced across her face. Aemond turned serious, and the stammering of his hands came to an untimely end. His eye bared holes into her reddened face; and the Lady humorously thought, if only for a moment, that it was a lucky thing he didn’t still have both his eyes. For such a stare would be embedded in her subconscious, bringing forth her swift undoing.

The corners of her mouth felt painful to bend and break. Shakily she smiled at him, and opened her mouth in shocked reclusion.

A shy laughter erupted from her unquenched throat, and the woman shuddered, surrendering the reins of reason to the drunken thoughts that sieged her.

Her laughter wasn't her own. The languid movements of her hands, that trailed over Aemond's chest, were not her own.

His finger came to caress her cheek. Her nose. Her brow. Her lips. Her mouth. The Crown Prince sucked in a dangerous breath, and secured his left arm loosely around her waist.

"Good girl," He spoke tenderly, his voice going from gruff to rough, "Such a good girl for me." His fingers combed through her messy braids, marking their swift undoing – taking a step back, he could feel the heat leave his head, in the favor of traveling lower, to meet the almost flaccid cock confined in the tightness of his pants. "Say my name again. Laugh again." He commanded in a pleading meowl. His lips twitched in anticipation, and his eyes trailed lower, lower still, from up her face, down to her soaring bosom.

"Aemond."

"(Y/N)."

A solitary look of shame was shared between them. Perhaps pushed forward by the only remaining faction of rationale, the two placed a step in between each other, but even that proved to be too fickle of a barrier to keep them whole apart.

Aemond reached to cup her face with his own trembling hand – on her end, the girl's digits trailed over from his high cheekbones, down to his prominent cupid's bow, in an all but gentle caress.

"Avy jorrāelan." He hissed through painfully gritted teeth, allowing his head to rest in the crook made of her shoulder blade and neck. "Avy jorrāelan." He repeated, the vulnerability in his voice making him lose the hold he had over himself.

"Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao." His feathered breath came into contact with her dainty neck. (Y/N) gasped lightly, as she felt the first of his many kisses being tenderly placed over her jaw and neck.

Her head was pounding, and her eyes were screwed shut, as the coldness of the wall hit her in perused waves. The impropriety of the soft moans and sighs that filled her ears to the brim left her confused and wanting.

The worst of it was that she didn’t know whether they came from her or him.

She felt as though her head was being harshly held below the water, and the girl clawed at her dress to loosen her tight bodice, which seemed to constrict even her erratic breathing.

Aemond's attention moved from her earlobe back to her lips. He felt how her hands contorted sporadically, and he placed his own palm over hers, to put an end to her hasty movements, and give her a sense of calmness. His fingers suddenly entwined with hers, as his form hovered above her. His throat etched with a lousy moan, and his mouth finally crashed with hers.

(Y/N)'s eyes opened at the shocking scene, and her lips suddenly parted, either to beg or to protest against him, but Aemond's hot tongue found entrance into her warm cave – deciding instead to deepen the kiss, and press himself further against her smaller form.

The outline of his throbbing cock molded against the shape of the woman's thigh, and the Prince Protector of the Realm let out a pleasured hiss, once her insistent writhing ended up brushing up his weeping tip. "Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa." He mumbled against her swollen lips, "Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī."

She let out a fatigued whimper, and swiftly turned her head around, putting an abrupt end to their meek and vicious pecks.

"What's wrong, hmm? Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir."

Aemond's lips were soft and tender, leaving behind an almost vivacious bite over her exposed parts. His pace had been filled with an animalistic hunger; the longing inside his eye caught her unprepared, and her lips parted with the desire to feel something – anything – that his palpable mouth would keenly offer.

(Y/N) shuddered with her eyes closed, and grabbed a hold of his long, white hair, leading the man closer yet to her swelling heat.

The way in which he held her should have felt so very wrong. But at that moment, the only thing she could do was extend her arm back up to him, and guide him with an insistent pull over his silky locks: encouraging him to bring forth his descent upon her lips.

She disregarded the way a figment of her psyche screamed at her. To stop her ministrations, to slap his calloused hands away from her. For if she kept her eyes closed, and focused solely on the shape of him, then she could almost pretend that the man before her had nothing to do with her beloved Jace.

She could almost pretend that he was Jace.

Aemond's pupil was left blown wide – so much so, that the lilac of his iris could almost be left neglected. He wrapped his hands around the lady's thighs, and hoisted her up to meet him by his narrow hips. Both moaned into the other's mouth, and the Prince soon found his way into the raptures of the silken bed.

His heated cock kissed the outlines of her soaked cunny. Aemond sighed deeply over the arch of her neck, and pawed away at her untouched bodice.

(Y/N)'s hands rested still upon his eyepatch, and, with a swift and hasty movement, she yanked it off his sculpted face.

"We need to stop…" She moaned, defeated, and felt how Aemond's body stiffened up below her, as the harsh realization finally hit them both.

She had uttered the words aloud.

Half expecting him to blow out fuming, the woman tried to pry herself off his fevered body, but his hands reigned like iron shackles over the inside of her spreading thighs.

"Do we?" He whispered lowly, whilst leaning in to steal another kiss from her again.

"We shouldn’t." She strained herself to say once more, and Aemond nodded, still chasing her lips with his.

She melted into his reluctant touch, and hummed against his beating heart. His hands dug deeply into her resting sides; his fingertips scattered over her translucent spine, leaving their possessive mark. "This isn’t right."

"I know, I know," He gasped, "Seven Hells, I know…"

"Yn nyke istan zarvīzis," He pressed a finger over her swollen lips, "Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis."

With the last ounce of her strength, she bit over his lower lip, dragging a wanton moan from out of his rosy lips.

"Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa..." He chanted, while latched onto her burning sear, "Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī."

His High Valyrian had made her dizzy. And at first, she tried to pay his words her mind, she tried to grapple and understand what he was saying.

A starved meowl left her panting lips.

"You can tell me to stop," The words that poured out of his mouth washed upon her like a rippled tide, "You can tell me to stop… and I will..."

Her body quickly arched against him; her shaky hands came to rest over his hips. She laced her mouth again with his, expecting rough, dominant kisses – but Aemond's hands propped themselves loosely against her cheeks, his thumbs pliantly stroking her with untoward devotion. His single eye drank her in with reverence.

"Please…" He whimpered into her mouth, "Avy jorrāelan." He confessed to her, again and again, trying his hardest not to take her against the cold floor – and not fuck her straight into the messy mattress.

Her limbs felt heavy. Lacking their autonomy. The body she was nestled in still wasn't her own.

"... Why?" She asked him disdainfully, sporadically, as his index finger came to pry open her haughty entrance.

His eye widened in perplexed ruin, but the Prince soon stumbled over his words again.

That bastard Jace must have taught her the gist of that.

"... I wish I knew." Came his sole and sincere reply.

Just like that, her eyes welled with the threat of tears.

His hands, his hold, his voice, his mouth. It was all wrong. In truth none could ever hope to feel right.

Flashes of her old lover, of his baby brother – who was so small the last she'd seen him –, of her sworn shield came into view. All of them, gone as if they never were. All of them, with their memories trampled deep beneath her sprawled-out form.

She wasn't a woman of the Faith. Not after what had happened. Not after the spoils of war that she, herself, felt like angry whips upon her skin. But her eyes fluttered close, and she begged the Mother for forgiveness, whilst a tear rolled off her ticking cheek.

She brought a hand to her wobbly lips, and began to violently rub away any remaining trace of Aemond's presence.

She was disgusted. With him, with herself, with the world, with the image of her Jace – that surged in her mind the second she blinked, the moment that she jolted awake in her misery.

On his end, (Y/N)'s display of pure abhorrence failed to falter Aemond's lustful grief. Why, if she did not desire him, did she fall into his arms again and again?

Love was the death of duty. And longing was the doom of all.

"Fucking cock tease…" The Prince growled, grief-stricken, "How much longer are you going to give into me, just to push me away?"

His patience had been running thin. The ache in his breeches was long forgotten. In its stead, the urgent sting in his heart dragged the man into the pits of madness. "What is it this time?" He groveled over her closed legs again.

Her recuperation had been jovial and quick. Adrenaline replaced the pain and shame, and the woman tried to get off the bed, put as much distance as she knew how in between her and the ravished Prince.

For the first time since he came to be, Aemond would not let her escape his clutches. As she moved backwards, he persisted forward – following her wobbly feet throughout the room with the spare of his predatory eye.

"Y-You said –" She tried ceaselessly to accuse him. "You said you wouldn't –"

"And you're right. I meant every. Single. Thing. I told you." He growled into her frightened ear, as his hands came to cage her, trap her under the seclusion of the hard, stone wall.

"You're mine." He hissed desperately, as he clasped her jaw to face him. "You've always been mine, you fucking harlot. From the moment you stepped foot into Harrenhal, your life belonged to me."

Perhaps Aemond was right, and she was nothing but a harlot. A treacherous swine that hung onto whatever he could give her - so starved and devoid of love and warmth, that she'd dare to stoop so lowly with him.

Aemond descended his unquenched rage over her exposed neck, and began leaving tender love bites all over, in spite of her lackluster pleas.

(Y/N)'s head felt like it was about to explode. She felt sick to her stomach – the wine and the distraught both built up inside of her. All she wanted now was to be left alone. For Aemond's touch felt oddly comforting, and her tired eyes began to close. "You drive me insane." She heard him choke.

She wanted to open her mouth. To urge the Prince to stop; but her word hole was sewn shut, taken over by the grip of feared confusion. While his hand hoisted her up by the waist again, her hand went around him, to grab onto whatever she could find. Finally, she stopped at the dragon-glass dagger, that securely latched onto Aemond's waist. Effectively, she wrapped her fingers around its silver hilt, and sheathed it out of its confinements.

"I swear on whatever God you want me to, I'll slit your throat if you don't stop touching me –" She wailed into Aemond's form, as she felt him stiffen up in tumultation.

His nostrils flared up at her attempt to intimidate him, and yet… his face looked most serene, as the cutting edge of the dagger reached close to his ivory skin. She raised her brows at him in utter surprise; for she expected him to surrender. His arms snaked away from her, and Aemond watched her intensely with his piercing gaze.

She could kill him, consequences be damned. And if she faced trial for this, then at least she'd have taken out a Green and Vhagar.

Her hand was shaking. Her breathing became erratic. She'd held a blade on multiple occasions; she'd fantasized about cutting Aemond's throat more times than she could bring herself to count. And yet…

His lack of movement – of worry – rattled her endlessly. She wanted to scream at him, to push him, to cut him. But for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it.

The realization that she just couldn’t do it made her almost drop the knife from the tight hold she'd kept it under.

"Why aren't you the least bit worried?" She spat out lowly, with her body trembling and her jaw set tight.

Aemond remained quiet and taciturn. His eye fixed her face carefully, and his hand gently wrapped around her quivering wrist. "Come on now…" He whispered to her, and watched how her eyes filled with the endless tears of frustration, how the hot droplets rolled down her reddened cheeks.

It would take another moment for her to drop the blade.

A moment she would forever grow to resent.

"I fucking hate you." She hissed through a breathless sob.

Oh, how she wished to hate him. Hate him as she did when they first clashed swords. Hate him as she did when she heard Jace talk about Lucaerys' death.

"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.

And, just like that, the damage had been done. The blade rested back into his hand within an instant, and Aemond hit the wall behind her with murderous intent. "Fucking liar." He whispered again, breathing less and less sporadically, trying to wash his nerves away.

"I have been so good to you. But no matter what I do, it'll never be enough for you. Hmm?" He shook his head adamantly, and dug his fingers into the cold tiles of the cursed stronghold. "I am a patient man. But I will not wait a minute longer."

Her face twisted into a painful scowl, and the girl pushed over his chest roughly, but Aemond was quick to deny her exit. "This is not ideal," He muttered lowly to himself, "Yet you need to be taught a lesson."

"What are you d–"

Her words died upon her lips. Aemond hummed in dissatisfaction, and immediately brought the blade into her view.

She let out a scream of pure horror, but his pliant mouth silenced her with a scorching kiss. Her whole body was shaking, and the Prince Regent let out a frustrated sigh.

"Cease your crying, you hateful woman." He chastised her cruelly, "The fucking Gods sent you to ruin me."

At that moment, she wasn't above pleading. Her knees wobbled in place, and her orbs frantically searched for a way out. For something to grip and swing at the man before her.

Aemond's eye softened at the sight of her. Despite the pang of guilt he felt, a teasing and self-assuring smirk formed at the corners of his upturned lips.

So Jacaerys hadn't told her. He never mentioned their Valyrian way to her.

His triumphant feat soon washed away, as her trembling hands came into contact with his. "Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon." He told her adherently, truthfully, despite the obvious language barrier.

He took a moment to regain his composure. Grab a hold of her balled-up fists and remember the ancient words he'd only ever read about in his history books.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."

He ripped the sleeve from his linen shirt, and placed it over their entwined fingers.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sĩr. Izuli ampā perzī."

The blade finally pressed down, over the softness of his left palm. Aemond winced at the sudden pain, and made a mental note to only nick the frightened girl with it, when the time came for that.

"Prūmĩ lanti sēteksi. Hen jenỹ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozündesi."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened to a comical amount. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, she grew aware of Aemond's intent. She refused to show her hand to him, placing them both behind her back, and holding on for her dear life.

He let out a disapproving grunt, and reached his bloodied hands to her, yanking her right hand from underneath her strong grasp.

"No! No –!" She kept on screaming, and the guards outside shifted in place, before they fell under their oath of silence once again.

The cold and slick edge of the dragon glass pressed lightly against her writhing palm. Aemond made a smaller cut, and carried on with his rapid mumbling.

"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."

His very fist came to cut over his lower lip. His gory hand then reached for her jaw, hammering her in her place, and a sharp sting reflected on her weary stance. Aemond profited off the moment, to ease the dagger into her waiting mouth.

The metallic taste flooded her senses – the girl saw red before her eyes, and failed to register how his fingers came upon his and her forehead, painting them over with a ghastly symbol.

The Targaryen Prince reached for her hand again, and pressed her wounded palm cohesively with his.

"Following the tradition of my House from before the Doom of Old Valyria, I, Aemond of House Targaryen, bind myself to (Y/N) of House Tully, by blood, by soul, by life –"

"NO!"

" – And I pledge to her: that we are now one flesh, one heart, one body. Now and forever."

As he finally pried his limbs away from her trapped body, Aemond allowed his lips to feathery trace over her twisted mouth. She glanced at him, with wide-set and teary eyes.

"Fuck your fucking pledge."

Some grand venue she received.

A single question hung loosely into the air.

"Are you going to rape me now?"

She scarcely registered her own words as they left her mouth.

Aemond's eye widened at her query, and the Targaryen bit over his lower lip, as a deep grimace morphed the fairness of his features. He looked almost dumbfounded by her made assumption.

As soon as it came, the look of utter betrayal left his face.

"You would slit my throat with the knife." Was his mere reply.

***

Sometime along the night, he left.

The mighty roars of Vhagar registered themselves in the far-away distance.

That night, and only that night, she allowed herself the sacrilege of prayer. And she did so, again and again, pleading to the Seven for a blind arrow to reach his neck.

On the back of Vhagar, Aemond shuddered away from the impossible waves of heat, that licked deliciously at his stiffened cock; whenever her breathing would reach his ears, he felt tortured, trapped beneath the swell of lust and wanton desire.

Despite his abhorrent decision, he knew what their marriage meant. He knew all too well what his cruel bind had done, and yet… he felt no plausible remorse for the situation at hand.

The support of Storm's End, Floris Baratheon, Alys – mere casualties compared to the brink of having her, to knowing that she was finally his, as he was wholly hers.

Eventually, she'd have to love him. Eventually, she'd learn to do so.

A marriage wasn't a marriage until it was consummated. But he would give her, as he had promised, the illusion of choice, if nothing else.

As the cold night's air whipped his face again and again, and as Vhagar's thundering resounded over the burnt trees of the Riverlands, Aemond sighed, and brought a shaky hand to the strings of his breeches.

Scared as she was, his Lady made for a beautiful bride. It was such a shame that he didn’t get to see her wear the traditional Targaryen gown.

The pad of his thumb trailed over the cut he'd made – the same cut that now rested over her extended palm.

The flesh would scar, he thought, well pleased; whenever he looked at her, he'd get to see how she was undeniably his.

A possessive growl etched from his parted lips. Images of her paling skin, of her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes bore into him, as if she always knew something he didn’t.

Leisurely, he began to pump his cock. Below him, Vhagar let out an anguished roar.

"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."

Droplets of precum rolled over his clenching digits, coating his knuckles and the base of his shaft in a translucent, but thick ropes.

He groaned desperately, aching to relieve his frustration deep within her, but alas…

His gruff moans filled the air around him; and Aemond could feel his climax building up, as visions of her flooded his thoughts.

How she would feel underneath him. How she would writhe on the edge of bliss, begging, pleading for him to finally take her.

He could feel her legs wrapping around him, and feel himself sliding inside her with ease, praising her for being so good to him.

He wrapped Vhagar's bridle tight over his arm, and secured himself better in his leather saddle. His grip tightened around his dripping cock, but it was just not good enough.

The pace with which he fucked his hand picked up in a wilding speed. Aemond sighed in pleasure, and felt his hips move to their own accord. His breathing became rugged. His very mind was not his own.

He wondered what other scars her body bore. What the story behind them was, and how many of them came by his swift undoing.

Would she lie down and let him take care of everything? Or would she want to stay on top, jumping up and down on him, each time with a harsher thrust?

His hips rose and fell with his less than gentle pace, and the man pushed his length deeper into his steadfast grip.

He knew that if she let him touch her, he wouldn't be leaving her bed for weeks. He would pull countless orgasms from her, time and time again, until she begged for him to stop. He would have her so full of his seed, so the Gods' help him, that she would swell with his child – his trueborn child – before the rise of the first rays of sun.

Feeling his release beckon, the Prince set on a final rhythm, one that left his loins more in need than ever. With a loud hiss, he pushed himself inside his fist one final time, spilling his seed onto the saddle beneath him.

He panted wildly into the night, and suddenly opened his lustful eye, allowing a tear of ecstasy to roll off his scarred cheek.

"Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra."

He couldn't keep up the charade with her. He would tell her all about it, once things finally settled down.

Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.

First it was her brash arrival. Then her impromptu marriage.

No one dared to talk to her. Yet she was never without the indiscreet eyes that followed her about.

Her situation wasn't without its ups and falls: Aemond felt no need to guard her as stiffly anymore – For where would the former Tully go, now that she bared his Targaryen name?

She was allowed to breach into some castle corners, always in the company of hefty guards, of course, and basked herself in some new acquired perks of freedom.

On the same account, whilst Alys remained loyal to her role as her lady-in-waiting, the tension between them couldn't have been more pain-strikingly high.

"I never asked for this. You must believe me."

She gave the younger woman a domineering stare, and only shook her head, obliged.

"And yet here you stand, inside his bed."

Word in Harrenhal spread fast – like a fire left unattended, like the so-called "Targaryen madness".

But a new, particular rumor gobbled the attention of everyone present.

Daemon Targaryen was to return to the Riverlands. And with him and Caraxes, he'd bring forth the formerly wild dragon, Sheepstealer, mounted by none other than Nettles.

The Lady had been acquainted with the bastard girl before – when the Sowing of the Dragon Seeds reveled in their first borne crops.

Another troubling report came forth. King's Landing had been secured by Rhaenyra.

When (Y/N) heard the news be whispered, she almost collapsed on her knees in glee. This must have marked the end of it. Surely, the usurpers would be put through the sword, leaving all to be well, and right again.

The Greens would die. They would face trial.

The Greens.

Indeed, word in Harrenhal spread fast. And she'd just been made the wife of the cruelest of them all.

Dread filled her insides. Her eyes cast their darkened shadow over the walls of the cursed Keep. A single, fundamental truth raised strongly from her anxious wallowing.

If Daemon Targaryen should find out about her marriage to his nephew, and get to her first… naught of the loyalty of the Riverlords would have a single say in her decided fate. And she would meet her end by the way of his blade, Dark Sister.

Now, more so than ever, it was pivotal for her to escape.

The clock was ticking.

And she was running out of time.

***

Her last day in Harrenhal was spent making plans. She'd rubbed her temples a myriad times, and paced about the room in a dizzying trot.

It wasn’t enough for her to disappear – she had to ensure everyone else thought she was gone.

When Aemond returned, she beckoned his call by jumping to her ready feet. The girl took him in, in his devillished state, and merely raised her brows at him. Whenever she saw him, the nick on her palm and lip itched at her relentlessly.

Neither was willing to recognize aloud what had transpired two moons ago, but both knew the inevitable punishment that would come with Aemond's actions.

He took a seat by the edge of their bed, and took his dagger out to play with it.

In vain he had asked Alys to share with him what she could see. She laid in broken, cradling her forming bump – the one she so desperately tried to hide away from him. The one thing that once meant her protection and raise in rank, now could very well heed out her doom.

Her green eyes raised from the floor below them, and Alys merely shook her head.

"There is fire, my Prince. Fire, and blood, and death."

"Going out to face two dragons is a death sentence." His deep voice rumbled through the silent chamber, "I can't afford that risk anymore with you involved."

And there it was. The silent admission of what he had done.

"We'll have to move from Harrenhal. You'll get to meet Daeron in Oldtown."

Was he sorry for what he did?

"It was about time you got acquainted with the rest of the family."

Aegon's cause was lucky that Storm's End was already too involved. They couldn't turn in their banners to the other front. Not now.

"It's a wonderful idea." She uttered in a glacial tone, barely above a whisper. "When will we depart?"

Sharpened orbs came in contact with the loneness of a purple eye.

The man took in a sparring breath, and hummed at her obedient retreat. The Prince's fist clenched over his cutting wound, and he nodded his head firmly.

"Should we be graced with the Gods' favor, issa jorrāelagon, then on the morrow," He explained, "but no sooner than that."

The girl's brows furrowed in discontent, as Aemond faltered in pressing the matter further. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the aid of two long fingers, and heavily rose from his seat.

"Don't wait for me tonight. I shall return to you in the morning. I have unfinished business to attend to."

Lack of air. And crippling fear.

Her tiny world had been thrown into the arms of chaos. But everything fell so perfectly into place.

As soon as Aemond had mounted Vhagar, as soon as her father of wings died upon the night's first watch, the woman sprung to her feet, and began her soul's ascent into the pits of the Seven Hells.

She started off by breaking in her tiny mirror, placing a goose feather pillow below and over it, to somehow mask the clefty noise.

Her long hair was the first to go. She began cutting it swiftly, using big and brisk movements to chop off as many of her luscious locks as she possibly could.

She ripped the mattress of the bed open with one of the bigger shards, and revealed Aemond's dried-up shirt, that she had tucked well under after washing it, long preparing it for that occasion.

Her stomach churned as her hand went to her chamber pot. Risking her own deniability, she submerged her digits deep within it, letting out a victorious huff as she brushed across a piece of cold felt.

The insides of the sack revealed fermented meat – putrid, more like. She scattered the final remains of it over the stone floor like a mad-woman, and ripped the latter pages of the book Alys had gifted her.

She would take the passage to the stables, and simply hope for the best.

Her eyes searched feverishly about the cluttered room, but the hammering in her heart stilled only as she gaped upon the lower left corner of the wall full of banners.

There it was. Exactly where Alys told her it was going to be.

She tore into the mattress further, spreading the wool around, and grabbed a hold of a piece of wood from the crackling fire.

May she be forgiven for what she was about to do.

Her shaky hands grasped the lumber strongly, and she let it roll in the middle of the room, allowing it to fall with a loud bang.

***

The sound of wailing screams echoed inside her head, scratching at her ears, to the point of making them almost bleed. The heat of the fire she caused fell over her skimpily clothed back, and the disgust she felt with herself was palpable against her tongue.

With every turn she took, she made herself another promise. She would not rest until the war would see its end. She'd never sleep warmly again, and forever remind herself of the sacrifice she had to make – of all the lives that she undoubtedly ended, if only to meet her selfish ends.

For once, this was not just Aemond's doing. This was her fault all alone.

Blinded by rage, and seething with fury, her feet carried her down the crooked set of stairs. The woman brought a hand up to her face, and coughed wildly in the back of it. She'd have to make a bold turn soon. Then the outside world would heed, and she would be free again.

With just a twinge of luck, the guards should think that whatever was left of her room collapsed upon herself inside. Her burnt hair and clothes would create the wanted look – the meat would add the unmistakable smell of rot and death, and the lack of an actual body would take days to figure out.

And she prayed. She prayed, she prayed, she prayed: that no one else knew of the passages that she was threading through below.

Her eyes could barely see in front of her. Smoke rose to unforgiving levels, and the Lady swore it could be cut even by the dullest knife. As she reached the crossroads of the secret tunnel, her hands came to grapple at the breeches' pockets, turning them inside out – trying to find the torn pages of the book she'd just previously carried.

A sigh of relief rumbled from within her throat, as the pads of her shaking digits stroked across the withered, olden pages.

Her relief would be short lived.

Boney hands snaked around her, and the girl nearly screamed – until the familiar scent of mint and wild berries floored her senses.

"Alys?!" Her voice let out in an exasperated high. "Alys, we need to hurry!"

But her able hands still hesitantly clung to the soft material of her shirt, digging so deeply into it, that she could rip it in a downward pull.

"You –" She began to say, but cut herself short as she momentarily closed her eyes.

No matter what, she couldn’t tell the Lady before her that she'd have sent her upon her death.

"You took a wrong turn. This isn't the right way towards the South Gates."

The adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heart was pumping wildly against her ears. Lady Tully only nodded, failing to process that Alys had, in fact, never given her access to such an option on the crudely drawn map.

"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"

Two sets of legs descended further into the murky passages of Harrenhal. At one point, the smoke had gotten so very thick, that both women had to feel their way out, by touching the corners of every tunnel that they surpassed.

When all seemed lost, Alys finally spoke, "Over here!" She yelled out to her, and latched onto Aemond's dampened shirt.

They stumble into each other, as the small opening of the stifling cellar reaches the South Gates. The witch stops hastily on her heel, and the young Lady nearly busts their cover.

A raid of soldiers came flocking out, with what then looked like tens of thousands of squealing maids. So frightened by their own demise, they bumped into the oak doors and onto each other – choosing to, instead of unlocking the main Gates, reach and pull at the other's hairs, cursing loud and wildly.

Alys let out a bemused huff at their perused antics, but her reglament was short lived; as one of the smarter lassies reached for the illustrious piece of wood, and opened the doors with the loudest of creak.

"Now's our chance," The Lady of Riverrun whispered to her fellow escapee, grabbing onto her wrist harshly, and dragging her out and into the light. "Mingle in the crowd, Alys –"

"My Lady, do not stray far –"

The older woman let out a staggering breath, as she raised her skirts to follow suit on the trail left by the hot-headed girl.

She is Elmo's daughter alright, she disarmingly told herself, Just as hopeless and reckless as he once was.

Alys almost tackled her to the ground, as Lady Tully succumbed herself deeper into the burnt out forest. She gripped onto her hands with hers, so harshly, that she'd definitely leave her mark. "I thought I had told you not to stray far."

The breathless form of the lost child before her appeared to be enough to soften a tad of her resolve. "When I tell you something, I expect you to do it."

Whilst chastising her deeply for her foolhardy behavior, the woman searched her pockets, and pushed out two quarter silvers into her trembling hands.

"You'll go towards the Rushing Halls and buy yourself a mule from the Half Calf's Inn."

As the younger Lady nodded feverishly at her late advice, Alys clasped her cheeks with her hands, and brought her head further towards her. "You'll keep a straight line to the Green Fork. You won't stop to eat or drink – you won't stop until you reach Hag's Mire. Make sure to cover the cut on your hand with this." As she spoke, Alys pushed a black glove into her resting hands.

The Bliss of Riverrun threw the witch a bewildered look. Her eyes searched adamantly for hers, and the woman panted out in pure wonder. "How did you know I intended on migrating North?

"I've already seen you do it." She shook her shoulders promptly, "I've already seen you succeed."

Her green eyes softened, if only for a blazing moment; but the crackling of the trees behind them snapped her out of her inward trance. "Don't waste anymore time. Your diversion was smart, but he will try to find you."

The girl reached down, to squeeze her hands, perhaps, in a wordless display of gratitude and affection. Her soft fingers interlaced over her boney knuckles, and Alys muttered a faint blessing over the twisted arch of her furrowed brow.

The Lady turned around, but not before pausing and shooting the witch one last fiery look. "Come with me." She offered determinedly, and shook her head strongly as Alys took a step back. "He'll try to punish someone for it. You're his next available girl." She begged her to see to reason.

"My place remains here. By his side."

(Y/N)'s eyes hardened at her thorough admission, but she strained herself to shoot the wet nurse back with a curt nod.

"I shan't forget what you did for me." She promised her elder with a minute smile.

"A heads-up when you next decide to set the whole stronghold on fire would be most appreciated…!" She lightheartedly told her, despite the obvious wabbling of her lower lip.

(Y/N) nodded, but remained hammered in place for another while. Alys' hand reached to cup over her face, but a brisk moment of clarity was quick to change her mind.

"Go, you foolish girl…!" She snapped, "Make good use of that promise you made."

Her feet began moving on their own accord. Her mind was blazing with all of the unfinished tasks at hand.

She would run towards the Rushing Halls. Buy a mule. Retreat towards Green Fork. Reach the Twins.

Her road shall lead to Winterfell. If Forrest Fray remained the same kind fool that he once was, she should have no trouble sending Cregan Stark a raven.

And if she could reason with Jacaerys' friend, take in his testimony of protection, perhaps her life wasn't lost just yet.

The gusts of wind ran through her shortened and unkempt hair. Aemond's clothes hung loosely over her, and the stench of fire and ash filled her nostrils with something else other than hopeless dread.

Never before in her life, did the girl run so fast.

Taglist:

Translations:

Gevie… = Beautiful;

Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda. = Do not worry, my sweet love. I promised you I would be patient;

Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa. = One day you will desire me;

Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao. = The Gods have cursed me to love you;

Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar. = Calm down, Vagar. Be still. Good girl;

Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa. = Gods, you were made for me;

Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī. = Just look how perfectly we fit together;

Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir = Sweet girl… don't pull away from me now;

Yn nyke istan zarvīzis. Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis. = But I've been patient. I've been so good and… so, so patient;

Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa... = You act like you don't want this…;

Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī. = But you want me just as much. You ache for me – just as badly.

Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon. = Don't cry, my beautiful Princess. I would sooner die than hurt you;

Valyrian Wedding Vows: Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass – the stars stand witness, of the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light;

Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon. = I know Vhagar, I know;

Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra. = The Gods don't listen to men like me. But I would go on my knees and beg them to let me keep you. You were once the bane of my existence… and now, you find yourself the center of it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #the harshest winters #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon #jacaerys valaryon #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys angst #aemond smut #bookcanon aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #yandere aegon targaryen #unhinged aemond yep yep

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maya-chirps · 7 months

Text

It's a little funny and a bit odd to me that there are some people who still don't take fanfiction seriously regardless of its content or even understand what it is. I could point out that there's a lot of literary classics that could be considered as fanfic, but honestly I'd rather just talk about how my dad uses them to teach his students.

My dad is a college professor that teaches legal writing for pre-law school students and one of the things he often does is assign classical books to students to read to get them used to reading English because not everyone here is that good at that. Reading is a good way to familiarize yourself with how a language works especially in formal settings and let's you learn words that you may not be familiar with.

Okay, you improved reading ability, that doesn't really improve writing and not everyone wants to start writing long documents in legalese. My father decided that an easy way to get people invested is to use what they learned from he stories and have his students make their own continuations or plotlines — he makes them write fanfiction. He didn't call it that until we brought up that it sounds like fanfiction and we've been calling it that since. He makes his students write what are essentially alternate endings, fix-it fics, and continuations and at times, even RPF.

One of his students, who was once my sister's classmate at high school so that's why he brought him up, wrote an RPF story where he was a general in the war and my dad was once a lower ranked officer who got killed in action and then submitted that for an assignment like that's objectively funny that my dad just accepted a fic where he dies written by this 19-year-old.

Writing these stories may seem silly but they genuinely improve your writing ability and especially if you were not that familiar with writing in the language you're writing for.

He's not even the only teacher that uses fanfic to engage with students since I myself had had teachers that essentially made us do the same thing. Hell, I had a writing teacher in art school that made money off of Wattpad before too and was very open to fanfic.

It cannot be understated how something as silly as fanfic has genuinely helped so many people learn how to write even professionally and especially for people who may not be that used to a the secondary language they needed to write in.

#mayaposts #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic writing #writing #real people fiction #rpf

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tootalltech · 4 months

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okay. i feel like theres still Some People who may check the land of stories tag on here the way i occasionally do i know theres some fans of the series here at least. since a while back i wrote out an entire paragraph to briefly explain why im insane about lloyd bailey to my friends who dont know tlos, i figure, WHY NOT POST IT ON HERE where people who also know the series (and therefore this character) might see it <3 its at least a little funny to see how i try to explain things in tlos like the hall of dreams briefly with little to no details. this is also kind of like a brief summation of everything we know about lloyd AND JOHNS childhood which is interesting. see below.

sits down. let me set the scene. lloyd bailey is the younger son in a set of two. his mother is a very powerful fairy (#fairygodmother) who’s kind of like the chancellor of an entire kingdom. lloyd and his older brother john both very much have magic in their blood because of this. lloyd’s father dies when he is very young. he is “not the same” afterwards. he thinks his older brother john, who handles his fathers passing arguably “better”, is the favorite child. john is happy and cheerful and everyone loves him. lloyd sits in his dark room and reads books like the iron mask all day. lloyd’s mother does not know how to get to him. she figures out how to make a potion that can bring books to life, since he likes to read so much. she offers it to him. he turns her down. she goes into this magic little hallway (infinite space) where she can see what people truly desire. lloyd the 11 year olds desire (i don’t know how old he is.) is to take over the world. hm. a bit concerning. his mother takes him out into the forest on a nice walk, chains him to a tree, and drains his magic from him. lloyd is not a fan of his mother for this. he tells her that she never would’ve done this to john. his mother considers her action stopping him before he wreaks havoc on everything. lloyd considers this having his “birthright” stripped from him for “a crime [he] never committed” (direct quote). lloyd despises his mother. he runs away from home not long after. he considers the potion his mother made his. he only comes back home to try and steal it. he fails. he is sentenced to life in prison. his mother gives him a mask to wear so no one knows he’s her son. john moves to the otherworld and starts a family. lloyd rots in prison. lloyd’s son who he doesn’t know about is born. lloyd rots in prison. john dies. lloyd rots in prison. his mother loves john’s children and starts to train one of them in being her successor. this could’ve been lloyd. lloyd rots in prison. he doesn’t escape until his niece and nephew are teenagers and his niece is about ten times more powerful than him. because she has the gift that was ripped out of his hands. lloyd hates the world he lives in and its people and seeks to destroy it as soon as he’s out. i wonder why. in conclusion. im normal about him.

#i also want to say #im a terrible fan #meaning that i havent read atom. I KNOW IM SORRY #so if theres any more details. about lloyd or john. in those books #someone let me know! bc ill go read them i really will #ive been figuring there isnt since its. yk. their mothers time #but ya never know #see thats whats interesting is that lloyd and johns generation is the one story chris colfer did NOT make a series out of #bc yk theres tlos and atom obviously #but we know so little about the time in between those series i feel like...#chris said FUCK those millennials #it brings me so much pain #BUT ITS OKAY #i am banging on chris colfers door what do you MEAN lloyd wasnt the same after his father died can you ELABORATE. PLEASE #desperately need this to reach the right audience. I HAVE TO STOP WORD VOMITING IN TAGS #i just figure like. if my goddamn lab rats elite force rant can get that many notes from what seems to be a small fandom. then #i might as well post this <3 #lloyd bailey #the masked man #john bailey #brystal evergreen #the land of stories #tlos

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marivoid · 5 months

Text

Another day in the G.U.I.D.E…

And I have some great news for once! Yesterday was my 17th birthday! Meaning I got to speak to our Admin about my job in the future. There are a lot of jobs to do in the G.U.I.D.E, I know, but I want to do something great! Something good for the people in the G.U.I.D.E! I’ll ask our Admin about becoming his apprentice! Maybe then I’ll be able to make our home even better for the future generations to come!

Yours Truly

MLW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day in the G.U.I.D.E

Coming at you with another update! I got to speak with him the day after I last wrote here and would you believe it! He needs an apprentice to take over when his time passes. And who better than the kid who has been helping around the G.U.I.D.E ever since he was a baby! I start my training tomorrow- Heck! He will even tell me what G.U.I.D.E means! Its not something that is taught during schooling because we need to be at least Green Names, but with this apprenticeship? I’ll be even higher than a Green Name! A purple name! One of the best ranks a G.U.I.D.E member could ever get their hands on! Of course I only want to use this position for good! I want to make this G.U.I.D.E better for everyone! Increase production of food and water, maybe expand our farms to allow for more cattle and slaughter animals- Heck! I may be able to speak to the Watchers themselves! Ask them to help us out! That is what they are meant to do as the founders of the G.U.I.D.Es!

I’ll update this as soon as I can.

Yours Truly

MLW

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day in the G.U.I.D.E…

It has been one hell of a busy week! Our admin, TinFoilChef (TFC for short) showed me so many things that I had never thought possible! We have huge computers running the G.U.I.D.E and keeping up the production of our bare necessities- Oh! Right! G.U.I.D.Es! I know what the acronym stands for! It sounds a bit silly (And the way TFC explained it sounded even weirder) but it still is pretty cool!

Government

Units

In Case Of

DIsastrous

Events.

It sounds silly, huh? Government Units? What, was there some sort of world outside of the G.U.I.D.Es before my time? Psh, please! They would have taught us those sorts of things! The Watchers would want us to know absolutely everything we possibly could to better the G.U.I.D.Es! I mean, what would be the point in hiding that kind of information?

Anyways- Back to TFC! He’s absolutely amazing! He reminds me of my own grandfather. Kind heart, big beard, long white hair always pulled back in a bun or braid- He’s also really smart! He’s got this huge office filled to the brim with all these cool books and journals. When I asked him about it, he said I could read them in my free time when I was done with my daily training!

I’ve also been officially promoted to a Purple Name! I get to go practically anywhere in the G.U.I.D.E! And my friend, Scott, he gets to stick around with me! I think he really likes that I’m including him on my exploration of the G.U.I.D.Es. I mean, why wouldn’t I? He’s been my best friend for years now! I’m not about to leave him behind just because I’m a Purple Name!

That’s enough for one night. I really got to rest up or else I’ll be exhausted tomorrow- Not a good look for TFC’s apprentice to have bags under his eyes!

Yours Truly

MLW

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Another day in the G.U.I.D.E.

Sorry it's been a month since I’ve last written here. I have been… Learning a lot of stuff. A lot more than what I thought was possible.

There is a whole world outside of the G.U.I.D.Es. A destroyed, broken, contaminated world that just wants to kill everyone- But a world nonetheless. A world that had people! It had buildings and farms and transportation, things we all have down here, but on a huge scale!

TFC is happy that I am willing to learn so much! He says he’s never seen a more eager student. But.. He said that I have to be careful with telling people this stuff. That it can overwhelm people in the G.U.I.D.Es and that we have to keep their faith in the Watchers- But surely he does not mean to hide it from Scott! There’s no way he could. I do not want to hide such knowledge from him. He is one of the only people I can truly trust!

I will have to speak to TFC in the morning about it. I… I need to have my best friend by my side. I don’t know what I’d do without Scott. Hell I don’t think I would be alive without him- Let alone be sane!

I’ll see what happens tomorrow.

Yours Truly

MLW

Another day in the G.U.I.D.E

TFC said to not let Scott know. That I have to hide this from him.

To lie to his face.

I don’t know what to say.

MLW

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Another day in the G.U.I.D.E…

No. Fuck that.

Log 1

It has been exactly three months and twelve days since I have wrote a log. Training to become an Admin is difficult. There are so many things to learn, things that I must keep hidden away and tell nobody.

Scott noticed within the first week. And yet I cannot tell him the truth. I have to keep quiet. I cannot tell a single soul.

But his face… He knows I am lying to him. He looks so hurt every time I have to tell him that he can’t visit my quarters. That we cannot hang out because of my training. I… I missed his 17th birthday. I missed him getting assigned his job. I missed everything. What the fuck kind of shit friend misses a 17th birthday?

Me. I’m the shit friend.

Tonight I need to get to him. I need to tell him I’m sorry. I need to let him know what is going on. I can’t keep hiding this from Scott. If I am allowed to know about these kinds of things, then he should be allowed to know. Scott’s my best friend. I can’t imagine a world without him by my side and keeping me sane.

End Log - MLW

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Log 2

He kissed me.

I don’t know what to think right now.

He’s sleeping in my bed right now as I write this. He seemed drunk off of something. We don’t have beer or alcohol down in the G.U.I.D.Es so it may just be his emotions? I don’t know.

At first Scott was so happy to see me! I managed to sit down with him, congratulate him on his new job and celebrate the way we were supposed to! We had the music blaring and even made a really shitty cake… And then the next thing I know he’s kissing me. I don’t think he meant it. Not with the way he jumped back and began to apologize over and over again. That was when he got really upset. Started crying and telling me how he missed us being together. Missed our late nights watching horrible G.U.I.D.E films and pretending to chart stars. How he hated seeing me turning my back to him and hiding everything from him.

I can’t say I don’t feel the same. I miss those dumb activities and laughing our asses off until five am… By the Watchers what am I getting myself into? Do I chase this? Let that little moment become more? I wouldn’t… I don’t think I would be entirely against that idea. He’s my best friend! Would allowing us to be more really be all that bad?

What would TFC think? Would he be proud of me? He said to keep this information close to my chest but Scott is close to my chest! He’s got a spot in my heart that I can’t ever get rid of.

I just have to hope TFC will understand in the morning… But right now, I have a bed to get back to. And a friend I need to be with.

Maybe something more than a friend. Who knows?

I’ll update in the morning.

End Log - MLW

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Log 3

He’s gone.

Scott is missing.

He left.

TFC won’t look me in the eye.

What have I done?

End Log - MLW

#hermitblr #hermitcraft #the crash #the void speaks #hermitaday #tinfoilchef #tfc hermitcraft #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #smajor1995 #mcyt #martyn itlw #martyn inthelittlewood

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year

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Knubbler hcs (Fluff alphabet edition)

Ik I just posted a fluff list to do with CRP characters last post but I also wanna do it with Knubbler because this fucker has been on my mine for WEEKS and I gotta feed my fellow dick enjoyers

Obvious heads up on heavy hc stuff since we don't have much on this dude RAAAAAAAH + still developing my hcs

Long since its A-Z, not proof read and I wrote this in one sitting I need to be put down

Attraction-

Torn between wanting to say he has high standards but I'm a dickface shipper sooo (/lh)

I can't explain it but I feel like he'd be into the feistier people; more dominant and outspoken, that sort of thing, ballsy. Also balancing with being chill so it's not just. Constant energy

Balance, you know

Appearance wise? I'm stumped tbh so maybe I'll revisit this later some day

Bonding-

While he enjoys dragging you around and spoiling you (getting into that for D + G), he does enjoy time spent at home with you! Knubblers always been the type of person to sit by a fire reading a book with a glass of wine; in a robe of course

At least he does to me

Calm stuff like that is a must

Oh how I crave domestic life hcs with this man

Cuddling-

I don't have PDA on this list so imma let it be said, this man loves affection, giving and receiving. Absolutely adores being all over you at all times and not at all afraid to show you off

Going to the actual prompt he doesnt care if you're larger or smaller than him, if you sprawl yourself over his chest he will melt!!!! Hold each other!!!

Dates-

This man is going to pour so much money into these dates

Could just be because we saw him take Abigail out to dinner but my brain defaults to restuarant dates, but otherwise I feel he's also a museum enjoyer (historical, art, ect)

Emotion-

Of course since this for reader insert stuff I can't exactly say who's more emotional so we're relying on Knubbler

I feel like. He's moderate, based on his interactions with Dethklok

He's patient by a considerable amount but has his limits

Absolutely pours his heart and guts out to you when hes drunk, though, not that he doesnt already shower you with compliments and affirmations

Wanna put him at a 6.5/10 when sober, and solid 8/10 when drunk

Family-

He doesn't strike me as the type to want kids, honestly, not that he has anything against them though, it's simply not what he wants

I saw someone hc a while back that he would have a bunch of siblings and I'm HARD agreeing on that + adding my own thing that hes an uncle

Need to write a silly fic where he's assigned as babysitter for a day (I desperately need more solo/knubbler centered stuff)

Gift Giving-

Nearly every week or so he will buy you something from flowers to jewelry to stuffed animals to fancy chocolates to really anything

If you so much as mention vaguely wanting something hes pulling out his wallet

This dude is likely loaded (based on working for Dethklok and being successful prior judging by the newspapers at the end of episode 2) so he's not afraid to drop some cash for you

As for receiving gifts he doesn't hold you to the same standard regardless of your income but he would be thrilled with anything you give him, I feel like hes a jewelry guy but maybe that's just because I like drawing him with rings

I feel like he'd go bonkers for baked good though

Harsh-

You guys may butt heads but you guys probably wouldn't argue too much outside of the basic disagreements that happen in every relationship!! Usually apologies for lashing out (if he does that in that particular argument) but will refuse to apologize if there's an actual problem that needs to be addressed (if said problem is on your end)

King of compromises (learned trait from working with bands me thinks)

Injury-

Depends on the severity

Knows very very basic first aid (cleaning, applying pressure if it's an open bleeding wound, cool water if it's a burn, ect) but more than that he's lost

Swearing and a bit of panic if it's something more serious, this is true for if hes the one hurt as well

If you're the one hurt hes going to hover all over you. Oh nooo please dont tell him hes your savior/hero, please don't make him reel good for pampering you oh NOOOOOOO (stares)

If hes the ome hurt hes going to bask in the attention if he needs to be taken care of, hypes up splinters/j

This stuff also applies to sickness

Jealousy-

Oh this is one jealous motherfucker. He will *glare* with those red pin prick robotic eyes of his

If someone's flirting with you he will saunter over and wrap an arm around you, loudly and sharply calls you babe to get the point across

^Kinda cliche but I feel like this man is a sucker for tropes

But if you're like actively uncomfortable I think he might have to intervene

See: his criminal record and the fact he "knows people who can 'take care of someone'", whether he'd actually follow through depends

Kisses-

Recieving he loves when you kiss his face; mouth, cheeks, nose

Giving, really everything is fair game if you give the go ahead; has a particular fixation on your hands (backs and knuckles), cheeks, and neck

Love anything from quick pecks to full on make out sessions

Love Language-

Physical touch and gift giving! Sometimes the gift giving can get intense since hes so ready to treat you like royalty but he doesnt mean anything malicious by it

As for receiving he has a soft spot for affirmations

Marriage-

He goes either way I think, but leans further to no marriage

That doesn't mean hes any less committed to you, though

You guys probably get matching rings even if there isn't a ceremony or legal thing, I think

No-

A deal breaker is like. If you're genuinely a bad person or a threat to his career

Like theres a difference between the shit Dethklok gets into and what you would have to do for him to cut you off full stop

Though I'm stumped on what exactly would call for that outside of being a genuinely horrible person, maybe I'll revisit this later

Oddity-

His laugh is the first thing I can think of. While I think the original is silly and cute in its own way, I'm kinda glad they changed it in the movie

He laughs at his own jokes and has a killer hair routine he follows religiously. Shitty innuendos, too. I am not going to let this man live down the hot dog thing and I KNOW it ain't a one off thing there is no way, this man gets no bitches (using Nathan's "you're horrible with women" comment as leverage)

Outside of that I dont think there's many quirks or habits that are worth mentioning

Petnames-

By law he has to call you Baby/Babe but I can also see him saying Hon/Honey, maybe even Sweetheart

Loves being called things like Dear and Darling

Question-

Loves coming to you to ask if you wanna give a second opinion on something hes working on, work related or not! Hes more than confident in his skills regarding sound engineering, but he likes getting the attention and time from you

Risk-

Skipping this because I'm truly stumped on trying to figure out how far hes willing to go in a relationship in terms of taking risks

SHH-

Has a few secrets, ranging from personal stuff to things that ultimately don't concern you

And that's okay, as long as it's not anything that can screw you or the relationship over, privacy is necessary

Probably has a lot of secrets surrounding dumb or embarrassing stuff hes done before and during the relationship

Tunes-

Obligatory I have a funky sense of music and while I want to choose a song that fits the time period of the main show to the decades before I'm a bit lost. Also I dont generally listen to love songs/songs that can be passed off as ones if you squint. So you guys get 2 songs that give me knubbler x (reader/oc insert) vibes

youtube

And

youtube

Upset-

When Knubbler is upset he shuts himself off and tries to get over whatever funk hes in, usually a glass or two is involved

Occasionally he'll seek you out for comfort or validation

If you're the one upset he's already lending you an ear and offering a shoulder to lean on (metaphorically and literally), gets mad on your behalf if someone upset you and offers solutions if it was something else

I like to think that you guys dedicate nights for venting and unloading on drama and bullshit. Like two gossiping moms

Valentine-

He is not holding back

You wake up to breakfast and gifts. He takes you out all day for shopping, you guys come home to get ready for dinner and a movie

Things definitely get.. intimate

But this is a SFW blog so I am not going to elaborate

Wedding-

If there is a wedding you guys make sure it's straight out of a storybook; dream wedding basically

Since he's not too worried about getting married I'd assume it makes sense that he lends most the power to you when it comes to decorating

Xray-

Urges you to communicate your feelings outwardly and verbally since hes not a mind reader, but he does pick up on certain behaviors to give him a general idea of how you're feeling

He doesn't want to push too hard, though, so he tries to offer an environment where there's open communication

Yearning-

Stealing this from my friend but hc that Knubbler actually would not know how to react to someone genuinely having an interest in him, at least in the beginning

Like he knows he's not the ugliest or the most horrible person but he doesnt think hes a heartthrob

So when you come along and actually get him to sit and settle down with someone he kinda. Doesn't know how to feel about being on his own/seperated

Like he can still function but hes finding himself thinking about you a lot; from wondering how your day is to things he wants to tell you when you guys are reunited

Zzz-

As mentioned before he loves cuddling so be ready for him to hold onto you

Prefers soft and light covers compared to heavier ones

Probably yoinks the blanket while he's sleeping

Probably snores

Bonus hc I think his robo eyes can be taken out, like for charging and he has a lil case for them. Has a sleeping mask so nothing gets into his sockets + he understands how it looks to others (especially if they wake up half asleep in the dark and arent used to the empty sockets yet)

#metalocalypse x reader #knubbler x reader #dick knubbler x reader #knubbler x you #dick knubbler x you #self indulgence at its finest #dick knubbler #knubbler #Youtube

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once-upon-an-animation · 1 year

Text

My massive TSATS Review

Hi everyone. In this post, I will sharing my thorough review of The Sun & The Stars by Rick Riordan and Mark Oshiro. I don’t normally do thorough book reviews, but since I’ve invested a lot of time, effort, and money into the hype for this book, I feel like a thorough book review is the best way to top off the journey. In this review, I’m going to be going over my honest feelings, thoughts, and opinions on the plot, the characters, and the writing quality. I took notes as I was reading, so certain things may be repeated/out of order/etc. In addition, I only took notes on the things that stood out to me. Therefore, if it’s not mentioned in this review, it means that it’s a detail that I felt neutral on/didn’t care about.

When I do reviews, I like to share details about me that may contribute to my perspective on the book, so that anyone reading this review is aware of any biases I may have. So here are some of the opinions I held prior to starting the book:

I am not a Nico stan. I don’t hate Nico, and I actually enjoy his character quite a bit, but I wouldn’t call myself a stan. I don’t worship or feel particularly attached to his character.

I am not a Solangelo shipper. I like Solangelo as a concept, but have been particularly unimpressed with its execution thus far, especially its introduction in Blood of Olympus (BoO).

As of ToA, I’m not a big fan of Will’s canon personality. I acknowledge and accept it as canon, and I don’t like it. Ever since Will and Nico’s first interactions in BoO, the way Will talks to Nico about his experiences has always rubbed me the wrong way.

Not that it’s anyone’s business, but I am currently unsure of my sexual/romantic orientations. Therefore, I don’t know how much this book means to me in terms of “representation”, and I’m not necessarily nuanced on all aspects of queer relationships. \

I did not like the preview. I read the preview of the first few chapters when it was released/leaked, which Mark shared that they wrote. And yeah…I was not a fan. The writing wasn’t bad, but it did feel a little jarring, which was to be expected. However, the characters, jokes, and overall flow felt off. And I’m sure everyone is tired of hearing this, but it absolutely gave off fanfiction vibes. I mean, TSATS is essentially canon fanfiction given that Mark is not the author of this franchise.

Lastly, the following arguments: “This book isn’t for you; it’s for kids!”, “It’s a kid’s book, it’s supposed to be cringey/corny/silly!”, “If you don’t have anything nice to say about the book, just shut up!”, and “If you think anything was wrong with this book, you didn’t read it right!” do not mean anything to me. Just because I’m an adult doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly lost the capacity to evaluate the quality of children’s media. If adults are allowed to create children’s media, then adults should also be allowed to analyze them and critique them. In addition, if adults are allowed to review a book and say that it’s good, then adults should be allowed to review a book and say that it’s bad. Positive opinions are not inherently more valid or morally better than negative ones. Negative opinions have their place in art and literature consumption and people are allowed to dislike things and share why. If you cannot handle the possibility that people thought this book was bad, then book discussion is not an arena you should be in. Lastly, I do not hold children’s media or diverse media to lower standards. Children’s media can and should be of high quality. Diverse media can and should be of high quality.

Whew, okay! Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get started! Warning: There will be spoilers! And this post will be very huge/long!!!

Plot

So the basic gist of the plot is that Nico has been hearing this voice calling out to him from Tartarus and he believes that it’s Bob, so he and Will journey down to Tartarus to go rescue him. They stop by the Jackson apartment to get some advice from Percabeth, they spend some time in the Underworld with the troglodytes, and then they face off with Nyx in Tartarus, who is holding Bob hostage. As far as the overall plot, I was very “meh” on the whole thing. I already disliked the premise because A) I think Rick’s version of Tartarus is kind of lame and he always insists on turning things into a joke down there, and B) It felt kind of repetitive with Percabeth’s journey. In addition, Will and Nico don’t actually reach Tartarus until more than halfway through the book, which is actually ridiculous. As a result, the first half of the book feels like such a massive drag and around Chapter 26, I kept wondering “Holy cow, when are they going to get to main destination!!?!??”

Before anyone comes for me, I completely understand that this book is more character-focused than plot-focused. In some ways, this is a welcome change, but in other ways, it really makes certain portions of the book feel like a slog to get through, especially if you’re not a diehard Nico/Will/Solangelo stan and you were hoping for an exciting story outside of the characters. Just because you’re spending more time with the characters doesn’t mean that your story should be lagging. You’re supposed to weave the character development into the main plot.

Anyway, here are my specific chapter notes, arranged in groups:

Chapters 1-5

- So it seems like not much was changed between the preview I read and the final version of the story. I’m kind of disappointed about that because as previously stated, I didn’t really like the preview.

- The Darth Vader joke: I thought the overall joke was cute, but I think it’s the way it was written that makes it land weirdly. I think it went on for just a tad too long.

- I’m not really buying the idea that there are zero kids staying at CHB for the year aside from Nico and Will. I understand the explanation that the book gave, but I find it very unlikely that every single kid at CHB has a happy home to return to, especially given Annabeth’s and Leo’s storylines as examples.

- On a positive note, I am happy to see Nico’s Italian heritage being a stronger part of his character.

- I really enjoyed Nico’s dream sequence in the beginning chapters. It felt nice to see dreams used not just as a plot device but in a way that says more about the emotions of the character. I hope you’re taking notes, Uncle Rick!

Chapters 6-10

- I have mixed feelings about the Percabeth cameo. On the one hand, I feel like it’s tradition to have them cameo in books now since they’re no longer main characters and people like having updates on them. I also think receiving their advice about Tartarus made sense. On the other hand, their advice was kind of shitty and not very useful. There were so many practical tips they could have given, such as certain enemies (ie. Nyx) or certain locations (ie. Hermes’ shrine) to look out for, and they just like…didn’t. It kind of kills me because Annabeth in particular is supposed to be the “smart” and “wise” character, but whenever she has an opportunity to actually do something wise and helpful, Rick dodges that shit like the plague.

- Speaking of WiseGirl, Annabeth’s “Why you, Nico?” line pisses me off and feels like a really stupid question that she should know better than to ask. Unless there are details that I’m missing, Annabeth knows that Percy’s relationship with Bob is quite strained due to the fact that Percy never visited him and Nico being the one to visit is the main reason that Bob was willing to help. Why would it surprise her that Bob would call out to Nico instead of them? Is Nico not the one who actually formed a friendship with the guy? In addition, why should it even matter that Bob didn’t call out to them? It’s not like she and Percy would have actually gone, given how traumatized they are by Tartarus and how they’re trying to live peaceful lives. So again, what is the motivation for asking a rude question like this? Did she actually want to lead the rescue mission? Would a call from Bob that she may have ended up ignoring make her feel validated> Is she offended or jealous or something? Sorry, but this question annoyed me so much and I don’t understand why Annabeth felt like she needed to ask it given everything she knows about Bob and Nico.

- I appreciate hearing Nico make some positive comments about Percy, especially since a lot of Nico/Solangelo stans insist that Percy is the Devil Incarnate. Hopefully, the fact that their favourite character doesn’t hate Percy as much as they do will inspire some of them to chill.

Chapters 11-15

- The nightmares/visions during the encounter with Epiales were pretty well done. In fact, I wish some of Annabeth and Percy’s encounters in Tartarus had gone a little more like Will’s visions in this scene; having nightmares about their insecurities regarding each other and questioning their relationship.

- The troglodyte scene was really dragging. A lot of the dialogue at the beginning of Chapter 14 felt stale and unnecessary.

Chapters 16-20

- The Nyx encounter in the Chapter 17 flashback was really good, and is everything Nyx should have been in HoH.

- Nico’s Tartarus recall was a little…underwhelming. Like the Nyx encounter was great, I just expected for more things to happen to him, like more monster encounters and stuff.

Chapters 21-25

- The ‘story time’ about Nico asking Will out on a date irks me for multiple reasons. 1) So ever since Rick decided to be more upfront about tackling social justice/deeper relationship topics in his books, his writing has developed this preachy quality to it where it feels like he’s just lecturing his readers through the voice of the characters and hand-holds them through his exploration of relationship/queer topics. I hate when Rick does this because the writing is way too on-the-nose and the characters sound awkward and not really like themselves; they sound like someone outside of the story is talking to you. This first date story time reeks of that on-the-nose quality and I don’t like it. 2) I have doubts about whether asking Will out in front of the entire camp (or being the one to ask for a first date in general) is actually in character for Nico. I think Nico could have opened up more as the relationship progressed, but making the first move in the beginning seems more like it should be a Will thing. 3) I am so sorry, but I do not buy for a second that no demigod at CHB felt comfortable in their queerness before Nico came along. It’s a Greek myth camp, for crying out loud. Not only are a lot of the Greek myths and mythological figures hella queer (including some of the Olympians!!!) but some of these kids are also products of queer relationships (ie. Kayla Knowles). Not to mention, one of the biggest narrative themes of CHB is that it’s a place where demigods who have never felt quite at home in the mortal world can establish a sense of belonging and not feel like they’re weird or unusual. Now, I understand that CHB has shown judgment towards certain things (like children of Hades), but that’s mostly because of Hades’ reputation and misunderstanding from myths. And like I said earlier, those same myths also include some queer relationships amongst some of its more beloved figures, so I don’t know that being non-cishet would have been viewed as weird or unusual at a place like CHB if they’re following the myths so closely. Sorry, this argument is kind of disorganized, but overall, CHB is a camp where kids have all kinds of experiences, powers, interests, family backgrounds, monster encounters and more. A girl who likes girls or a boy who likes boys is probably one of the least notable things that they’ve ever encountered, and I just have a hard time believing that the entire camp would be homophobic to the point where no one was comfortable with being out.

- So I actually really like the idea of Persephone and Will interacting and talking about how to manage being in the Underworld. However, something about the dialogue in this scene felt…stale. I understood the message that was being sent, but the actual conversation itself felt a little bland. I’m also disappointed to see that Rick/Mark fell into that same pattern that anyone who writes about Persephone does where they try to romanticize things between Persephone and Hades, and make Demeter seem like a bad figure. Like gee, your mother was protective of you and got mad when you were kidnapped and raped against your will; what a terrible mother, huh? And just once, I would like to read a story where Persephone rightfully bears a little resentment towards Hades for dragging her into a marriage that she didn’t actually want afaik.

Chapters 26-30

- Shout out to the narrative for gleefully reminding us that we are not yet in Tartarus as of Chapter 26, which is more than halfway through the book. Goodness gracious!

- Will & Nico’s “argument” is…okay. I was hoping that it would be moreso about Will’s comments seeing as that’s been the biggest issue so far.

- The infamous Lil’ Nas X reference…not only is it kind of random, but I’m surprised that it’s even in this book. Is the ‘Montero’ video actually appropriate for this book’s target audience? (And when I say ‘appropriate’, I’m not referring to the queer themes, I’m referring to the sexual stuff, like the lapdancing on Satan and whatnot.)

Chapters 31-35

- We are on Chapter 32 of a 51-chapter book with about 160 pages left, and the characters are just now arriving to their main destination. I’m so sorry, but that is such a silly writing decision that I can NOT take seriously.

- I enjoyed the Solangelo argument in chapter 34. Wish it had been a little longer.

Chapters 36-40

- Ah, the infamous aeternae. When I went to Rick/Mark’s TSATS tour, Mark revealed that their first draft of this scene had initially been super serious and scary, but they eventually felt like they had written something too scary. Mark revealed that Rick’s “strategy” for handling a super scary scene was to “cut the tension” with a joke. And so, Mark took the scary aeternae scene and turned it into a joke by making the aeternae a pair of himbos. Words cannot describe how much I hate this. Why can’t scary things be allowed to stay scary? It’s Tartarus, my guy. It’s supposed to be the most frightening place a demigod can be. Why should any aspect of it be turned into a joke? The unnecessary humor messes with the tone of the story and ruins all the suspense and tension that’s been built up. It also makes Tartarus seem less intimidating than it should be.

Chapters 41-45

- Words cannot describe how much I hate the implication that Nyx and Nico produced “children” together. Yes, I know they’re not real children, but I still hate the implication. It’s creepy.

- Now going into this book, I knew damn well that Will wasn’t going to get left behind. I also knew Bob wasn’t likely to get left behind because having them go on this rescue quest only for him to not make it out would be a little pointless. But the cocoa puff thing felt like such a cop-out. Like how convenient is it that Nyx brought these demons to life at the right time so that they were just oh-so conveniently available for Nico to sacrifice in the most in-your-face symbolism for letting go of his demons?

Chapters 46-51

- Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Nico tell us in Heroes of Olympus (HoO) that Bianca tried for rebirth? What is she doing in Elysium?

- The dream scene with Nico, Hades, Bianca, and Maria was very sweet. Probably my favourite scene in the entire book.

- “What an ingenious way of fulfilling the prophecy” Chiron says. Good job, Rick/Mark. Way to not-so-subtly pat yourselves on the back there!

- Shout out to Shel from finally graduating from being a plot device/narrative tool to being something of an actual character (this is moreso shade at Rick). The fact that she’s Native like Piper is really nice.

- Nico’s conversation with Piper is fine, but I don’t like the way it’s written. It’s another heaping pile of that on-the-nose, hand-holding, social-justice-lecture, talking-through-the-character style of writing that I don’t really like. Again, I have no issue with the topic at hand. But the characters do not sound like themselves. They sound like Rick talking to the audience. It’s weird, and I can almost guarantee that there was a better way to write this dialogue.

- Kind of sad that Bob isn’t sticking around, but it’s cool that he’s heading west. Potential reunion with Percy? Hope so. Maybe he and Percy can talk and Percy can apologize/smooth out their relationship.

Characters

So in this section, I’m going to discuss the characters individually, and also Solaneglo’s relationship. I will obviously have the most to say about Nico/Will/Solangelo. In addition, I will only point out the things that stood out to me, and I will try not to repeat myself. So if this character section seems kind of short, it’s probably because my thoughts have been spread out in other sections of this review.

Nico

Overall, I think I liked Nico’s character in this book. I liked that we got to learn a little more about his family relationships, his dreams, his solo time in Tartarus, and his perspective on certain characters and past events. However, his characterization did feel…off…from time to time. I think the reason why has less to do with TSATS in particular and more to do with how Rick has been handling Nico’s character ever since the end of BoO. I think Rick was so insistent on giving Nico a healing/happy-ending romance as quickly as possible that he not only rushed through Solangelo’s introduction and glossed over their initial development, but he also rushed through Nico’s healing process. I feel like there are large chunks of Nico’s emotional healing that was skipped during all the time jumps between BoO/ToA and within ToA itself, and anything that’s told to us in TSATS can only be told in retrospect. As a result, Nico’s joking/ flirting/ wisecrack nature in TSATS feels really sudden and maybe even OOC, because Rick never really showed us when and how Nico developed into this version of himself. To summarize, I believe this version of Nico could exist someday, but the transition needed to be longer, and more importantly, more of it needed to be shown to the reader.

In addition, while we did learn a lot more about Nico, I feel like there were still major things that were missing. His relationship with Hazel was surprisingly absent from his thoughts, and Reyna was barely mentioned, if at all. This represents a larger issue I have with Rick Riordan where, as soon as a character becomes a couple with someone, he tends to shaft their non-romantic relationships in favour of the romance. Like how Grover and Sally lost a lot of narrative importance in Percy’s life in favour of Annabeth during HoO; I really hated that.

Will

Like I mentioned at the beginning of this review, I came into TSATS not really liking Will and not really thinking that he’s the godsend boyfriend for Nico that the fandom likes to paint him as. I was hoping that TSATS would change my mind about Will, and while his character was improved for me in some ways, I think I walked away from this book still not really liking him that much.

So Will’s arc was mostly about accepting the darkness within Nico, the world, and within himself instead of viewing it as something inherently bad/evil or something he has to fix. As a part of this arc, he spends a lot of time complaining about the Underworld/Tartarus and associated concepts (ie. death, darkness, misery, ghosts, etc.) during the quest. Look. I understand the whole thing about Will being a child of Apollo and therefore not really vibing with the Underworld/Tartarus well. I understood and actually enjoyed his fear to some extent. However, I have some thoughts about the nature of these complaints. First of all, Will is not a newbie demigod. According to him and some of his background that’s established in this same book, Will has been at CHB for a while now, and he has endured 3 major conflicts in which numerous friends and siblings died. Will has had more than a lifetime of exposure to death and misery, so I don’t understand why this quest is being treated like his first rodeo with death and misery. I can’t really say it’s OOC for him given how limited his characterization has been before this, but still, it doesn’t really align with the established facts we know about Will. The themes of death and sadness should not be new concepts to him, yet this book is acting like he has never been exposed to this stuff before, despite the fact that the narrative literally acknowledges that he’s been through this stuff before. Again, I’m totally fine with him fearing monsters and total darkness and stuff, but loss and grief are things he should be more than familiar with. In addition, the narrative goes so far to even throw in that Will likes true crime podcasts. Now, listening to podcasts and being in the Underworld/Tartarus are two very different experiences, yes. But I just find it odd that Will can tolerate media about murder/kidnappings/etc. But the death and misery associated with the Underworld has him shaking for some reason.

I also find it odd that Will’s regard to Nico’s struggles with darkness, death, and misery is not always consistent. He can demonstrate the kind, empathetic, snd understanding nature of a healer when he needs to (ie. page 144 when Nico is about to start his Tartarus recall) but somehow he can’t see the insensitivity in the comments he keeps making about the Underworld? Again, it’s okay that Will doesn’t personally like the Underworld, but how is he not realizing how uncomfortable it must be for Nico to keep hearing all these complaints about concepts that he, as a son of Hades, is strongly associated with? On page 185, Will asks Nico yet another question about how he doesn’t find the ghosts disturbing. Nico explains that the Underworld is his second home and Will’s immediate response? “I could never live here.” Like look, this is a totally valid and understandable opinion for Will to have, but it’s also a dickish thing to respond to what Nico said, and the context in which it’s being said makes it frustrating. How and why is Will still acting surprised about what Nico is comfortable with? Nico is a son of Hades, for crying out loud! Him being comfortable with darkness, death, ghosts, and other associated things should NOT be a shock to anyone, let alone his own boyfriend of 6+ months. During the entire book, I couldn’t help but wonder why Will was even dating Nico in the first place if Nico’s domain made him this uncomfortable.

I’m glad Will and Nico were able to talk about this and smooth things over at the end, but by the time this arc was resolved, my annoyance with Will had already been solidified.

Another component of WIll’s arc is that he felt like he was a burden to Nico on the quest because of how much he was struggling with the lack of light and the fact that he kept getting injured/tired. This is fine and I actually like this. What I thought was a little silly was Will forgetting to bring a weapon or something to fight with. Yes, I understand that Will’s unpreparedness was a part of his arc, but while I fully understand his unpreparedness for the darkness/lack of light, him not bringing a weapon is very stupid, and the narrative acknowledging it doesn’t make it any less stupid. Again, Will is practically a veteran as far as demigod things go. How he could make such a silly mistake is beyond me. You’re going into the most dangerous territory in the Greek myth world for demigods, and you didn’t think you should have something to protect yourself with? Seriously? And the worst part is that Nico/the narrative literally mentions that Will has been in three major conflicts so far, but from the way Rick and Mark wrote him at certain points in this book, you’d never be able to tell.

Solangelo (as a pair)

I mentioned at the beginning that I am not a Solangelo shipper, so all the romance in this book didn’t have me leaping for joy as it may have for others. Overall, I still like the concept of their relationship and the themes associated with it, but I’m still not a fan of the way they're being executed. Will’s character arc made things a little harder for me, and the fanfiction vibes of the book were not my cup of tea. I have a smattering of different thoughts about Solangelo in this book, so I’m going to jump from idea to idea.

First, some of the romance/flirting/bantering did come off quite cheesy in a way that’s unusual in Rick’s better books (part of what gives TSATS fanfiction vibes).. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that the two boys like each other and have fun together, but it started to feel excessive at some point. Like Will recalling how Percabeth said being cheesy helps, and then Nico responding “Lay it on me, Will. I’m your grilled cheese” (page 373) made me put the book down so I could take a break. And before anyone come for my neck saying “They’re teenagers, it’s supposed to be cringey”...I have read PLENTY of books involving teenagers in which the romance/humor managed to accommodate the age of the characters AND still be mature enough so that it didn’t feel corny. There are fun yet tasteful ways to handle teenage romance/teenage humor in books and it’s up to the authors to find a good balance, so please miss me with this argument.

Lastly, this is going to sound rather bitchy, but I don’t want to hear the term “grumpy little ball of darkness” ever again. I know it was mostly a joke, but it was super corny the first time it was said, and it was corny every time after.

Next up, the circumstances surrounding their first kiss…I don’t like it. I’m obviously not mad at the idea of Will trying to be a supportive companion to Nico in that moment. I’m more so annoyed at what this kiss represents in the larger context of the Riordanverse. To some extent in PJO and to full extent since HoO, Rick Riordan has developed a deeply irritating habit of using romance as the solution to the characters’ emotional conflicts, grief, and traumas. There are too many characters in this franchise whose running emotional issues are magically solved by romance and I hate it. I think it’s harmful messaging to be sending to Rick’s young and impressionable audience that romance is the healing antidote to all of life’s problems. Feeling unwanted and like you’re not sure where you belong because everyone and everything keeps changing on you? Get a boyfriend! Feeling guilty about your past and like a 7th wheel amongst your friends? Get a girlfriend! Struggling with loss and grief and feeling like you’re always going to be alone? Get a boyfriend! Your ex just died in the midst of you trying to figure out your identity and you’re still in the grieving process? Get a girlfriend! It’s gotten sooo annoying at this point! Like no kids, getting into a romantic elationship will not solve all your problems. And viewing your significant other as the fixer-upper for your trauma is NOT actually a good thing, contrary to popular belief. Treating your romantic other as your only source of joy, hope, and happiness is a terrible approach to healing. Just once, I would like the kids in this franchise to work through their emotions in a way that doesn’t default to romance. Because should Will and Nico ever break up (not that they ever will, because according to Rick Riordan, most people find their soulmate as a teen), or something happens to Will, what will Nico do? Crumble? Fall apart? Waste away?

This is part of why I felt like it was really important for Nico to heal PRIOR to engaging in a romance because things like the circumstances of their first kiss suggest a sort of dependence that he’s developing on Will for dealing with his grief and inner demons, and I just don’t agree that this is a healthy coping mechanism. Nico doesn’t deserve to be alone or feel alone, but he does need to learn how to heal and cope through his traumas on his own because using Will as his source of healing is not a good thing. It’s okay for Will to support him or give him advice, but Will should NOT be Nico’s primary source of hope and happiness; Nico should be Nico’s primary source of hope and happiness so that if anything ever happens to Will, Nico doesn’t break into pieces because he’s developed the necessary strength to move on and find happiness within his own self, independent of a romantic other. Romance should complement the happiness you’ve grown from and for yourself, not be the source of it.

Next, Nico telling Will he loves him during the fall to Tartarus as a parallel to Annabeth whispering “I love you” to Percy is…not really something I like. I truly hate to compare a gay ship to a straight one, but let it be known that the critique that I’m about to give has nothing to do with Nico/Will being queer specifically, and more to do with the way they’ve been written. Anywho, with Percabeth, something about that “I love you” on their fall into Tartaurs felt more special given the long history of friendship that they had prior to their romantic one in the PJO series, and the fact that they had been separated so long just prior to the fall. The “I love you” between Nico and Will is sweet on a surface level, but the fact that it’s an obvious copy of Annabeth’s “I love you”, and the fact that we don’t have as much history with Solangelo as we did with Percabeth really takes away from the impact. I think this “I love you” would have held more power at the end of the book. For example, Will and Nico could finally have a discussion about all of Will’s struggles with darkness, and when Will finally accepts the darkness as a part of who Nico is (hopefully) and states that he loves Nico as he is, darkness included, we as readers can feel happy that Nico has found someone who accepts every part of him, even the parts that aren’t so pretty. Will then tells Nico that he loves him, a love that encompasses all of who Nico is, and Nico can say it back, accepting Will for all of who he is. All in all, I think the “i Love you” should have waited, and I don’t think it should have been a rehash of Percabeth’s moment; Solangelo should have gotten their own unique moment.

Next, Will’s guilt over Octavian’s death and him calling Nico a murderer made me go back and reread the scene in BoO. I can understand and appreciate his guilt from a healer’s perspective, but him thinking Nico was a murderer as a deep hidden grievance is kind of funky. Yes, Nico saying that they couldn’t stop Octavian probably came off really poorly in that moment. But also…Nico wasn’t saying that because he was bent on seeing the guy die. Octavian chose suicide and no matter what Will/Nico did, Octavian would have fought to get on that onager. Viewing Nico as a murderer for this, even by mistake, feels a little…extreme.

Lastly for this section, when Nico and Will finally had the talk about Will’s complaining, I liked the gist of the conversation, but I didn’t really like the conclusion that Will came to (or maybe it was the way it was written). Nico’s point was that death is amoral. Yes, it’s hard for the people who are still alive and left behind, but it isn’t an inherently evil process, and the place where the dead go isn’t inherently evil either. However, when Will reflects on this, he focuses on the entities that are alive/from the surface and are somehow thriving in the Underworld, which kind of misses the point. The takeaway shouldn’t be that there’s hope in the Underworld because of the living things that are present there. The takeaway should be that death, darkness, grief, all have their importance and place in our world, and that things that are associated with them aren’t inherently bad or evil. The Underworld doesn’t need to have life in it for it to be valuable.

Miscellaneous

Here, I will talk about a bunch of characters who made important cameos, but weren’t present enough to have their own section. If there’s a character missing here, it’s because I had no significant thoughts on them.

Percy:

- I’m glad to see multiple characters acknowledge that Percy needs time off.

- As sadistic as this might sound, I’m glad to hear that Percy is still having nightmares about Tartarus. I’ve always felt like Rick did a shoddy job of exploring the impact of Tartarus on Percy and Annabeth. This update on Percy doesn’t really make up for what could have been, but I’m glad to see the trauma being taken a little more seriously.

Annabeth:

- I already shared my grievances about Annabeth in the plot section.

The Troglodytes:

- I kind of like the Troglodytes, but their presence in this story felt a little…long, almost like they overstayed their welcome.

Dionysus:

- Mr. D feels off in this book, both at the beginning at the end. At first, I couldn’t really tell what it was, but by the end, I think I got it. So we all know that under Mr. D’s “I don’t give a shit about y’all” exterior, he actually kind of cares about the demigods. However, he’s always been subtle with it so that he never looks like he cares too much, and I don’t think this is something that he would suddenly change just for Nico, even as his pseudo-therapist. Unfortunately, the way he’s written in the book and his dialogue is a little over the top. His excitement towards Nico at the end especially feels OOC.

Nyx:

- I like Nyx a lot better in this book than in HoH. She feels less like a bumbling idiot, and more like a truly scary entity, although I was not glad to see that little tourist skit return. I wish we had spent more time with her.

Writing Style/Quality

So for the last section for this review, I’m going to speak specifically on the writing quality of this book; I’ll be critiquing certain writing decisions made by both Mark and Rick.This section is also a smattering of thoughts, so I’ll be jumping again. Here we go!

First off, the overall formatting of the story was kind of weird and disjointed. For example, choosing to stick with Nico’s POV for the entire beginning, but then suddenly jumping between Will and Nico’s POV after the encounter with Epiales was giving me a little bit of a mental whiplash. I wish they would have stuck to one POV per chapter just to keep things more organized. The interspersing of the story time with Gorgyra was kind of weird too, especially after I learned that it was taking place at a point midway through the overall story. It’s clear that this part of the story mostly exists to establish the canon version of how Will and Nico developed feelings for each other and hooked up, but I think there were better ways of just weaving this into the main story rather than constantly pausing the main story to do this weird kindergarten story time thing. I mean, the main plot was already taking its sweet ass time, and the Gorgyra scenes made it feel worse. I think the Gorgyra thing should have just taken place at its chronological spot. Lastly, I think Nico’s solo Tartarus flashback would have worked better as an epilogue, like ´oh, this is how Nico’s last trip to Tartarus went and now this book is about how different his 2nd trip will now that he’s not alone and Will here’ or something like that.

Next, for the writing specifically, I have mixed feelings about Mark’s contributions to the book. One thing I appreciate about Mark’s writing is the heavier emotional weight of things. I’ve always felt like Rick’s writing was too “Go! Go! Go!” all the time and that he never let the emotions of the plot he was writing sit and simmer within the characters, making the characters feel a little hollow at times. I like that Mark is dwelling a little longer on the emotional aspect of the story and isn’t rushing right through them. However, there are certain portions of the book where the language is just a little too flowery and philosophical rather than just like…getting to the main point. This probably contributed to how long it took for the characters to move on from certain scenes. Also, there were portions of the book where the sentences just felt kind of clumsy and awkward, like Mark knew that they needed to write something but wasn’t quite sure what to write.

Moving on, the pop culture references are definitely a little much. Now, to be fair, pop cultural references are not new to the Riordanverse, but I reread the PJO/HoO/ToA series a little while ago, and I recently read the Kane Chronicles for the first time, and I don’t think the pop culture references in those series occur nearly as frequently as they do in certain portions of this book (ToA might be an exception, but I feel like Apollo’s/Lester’s close relationship with the performing arts makes it more acceptable). In addition, pop culture jokes are not the only way to make good jokes. One thing I really liked about the Kane Chronicles is how Rick often used the mythology/local culture/circumstances of the specific scene as the foundation for jokes, because these feel a lot more organic and natural to the story, and are actually funny, and I wish TSATS had leaned into this more. It also didn’t help TSATS that some of the references felt forced amidst the conversation being had (eg. Nico’s ‘Single Ladies’ joke on page 12. Will makes a comment about not having any monsters to slay, and Nico responds with a joke about making skeletons do a choreographed dance to ‘Single Ladies’. A joke about making skeletons dance felt like a weird response to a comment specifically about slaying monsters, and it didn’t really fit in with the conversation). In general, randomly mentioning things that your audience might be familiar with isn't really humor; the references have to make sense within the context of what’s happening. Puns, play-on-words, sarcastic/smartass comments have been used before in the Riordanverse and worked fine when they were written properly. For example, Will’s “Noble McSacrifice”comment on page 45 actually made me chuckle, as grown as I am. So yeah, Rick has done better jokes in past books, and the try-hard pop references in this book is another thing that made it feel like fanfiction. I cringed very very deeply when I read the “#OnBrand” joke.

Lastly, I’ve already mentioned my thoughts on Rick’s on-the-nose writing. It’s like he doesn’t trust the audience to connect the dots anymore on certain themes and social justice issues, and that they need it spelled out for them in the most blatant and obvious way possible. Like yay for Rick for wanting to touch on important topics, but there’s a way to do this without sounding like you’re making a social justice lecture post on 2014 Tumblr. Find a way to weave these topics and lessons into the narrative so that you’re showing your readers the lesson rather than just telling them the lesson.

Also, if you’re going to use the characters as mouth pieces for these things, it would be nice if the characters could actually sound like themselves rather than just a vehicle for what Rick wants to tell the audience. Like, I really hate how the characters are literally just stating and explaining their character arcs to us, as if we didn’t just literally read the book and can see the arc for ourselves.

Overall Impression

I think this book is pretty mid. It’s not the awful trash that some people think it is, but it didn’t really meet the hype for me either, especially as a non-Solangelo shipper. Certain aspects of it were nice, but many aspects of it annoyed me, and my opinions on Will/Solangelo haven’t really changed. I give it 3 out 5 stars.

#tsats spoilers #tsats crit #the sun and the star #Nico di Angelo #Will solace #solangelo #anti solangelo #rick riordan #mark oshiro #tsats #tsats review

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