#letter from the queen regent

[tudorqueen6]

25 August 1544: The ‘Quene Regente’ writes Henry VIII

[Endorsed] The queen’s Grace to the King’s majesty 25 August 1544 [Addressed] To the King’s most excellency majesty Pleaseth it your majesty to be advertised: albeit I had at this present none occurrences of importance to be signified unto your highness, your realm being, thanks to almighty God, in very good order and quiet: yet, foreasmuch as Richard Higham is at this time dispatched hence…

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

PRAY FOR ME.

Dark!Prince Regent!Aemond x niece!Reader

Trying to persuade you to declare yourself for their side in the war of succession, Aemond relies on different methods to make your façade crumble.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, p in v, dry humping, petting, breeding, power imbalance, praise kink, humiliating, degrading, canon typical incest/targcest, no mention of reader’s appearance, Dark!Prince Regent Aemond is a warning himself

WORDS: 5.3 K

NOTES: The title is inspired by Kendrik Lamar‘s song, as it’s about loss, loyalty, sacrifice and redemption. Something reader struggles with in this. This is also dedicated to and written for @black-dread. I‘ll spoil you rotten for as long as I’m on this app. ILU.

You had lost track of how long you had been forced to stay isolated in your chambers. It could have been days, but it also could have been many moons by now. 

The only company you got were the serving girls coming three times a day to serve you food and something to drink, and bring you water for a bath – everything else was left for you to do on your own. 

It was a cold comfort that you got to spend your days in the chambers you had occupied during your childhood, but still better than to be stuck in one of the cells or the dark dungeons. 

Apart from the Dowager Queen visiting you a few times in the early days, trying to persuade you to side with them in the upcoming war of succession, you hadn’t heard from anybody else. You did not even know what progress your mother’s side had made over the time you had been locked away, and what precipitations they had to suffer. 

Deep down you knew Alicent was only after your dragon to gain support, because, with not more than three adult dragons, they clearly were outnumbered. But that knowledge, however, didn’t stop the doubts about your mother from rising. 

You had not expected to be saved by them, but you had firmly believed to receive at least one letter by raven in secret – yet not one had come. 

There were enough people loyal to your father, mother or both of them in the Red Keep, and the chances of one raven reaching you were not too far-fetched. 

It was your deceased grandsire that had stated back then that the crown could not stand strong if the House of the Dragon remained divided, and now it was tearing itself down. 

The tension truly had simmered at the last supper you shared with all of them — if it hadn’t been for your uncle to raise a toast to your strong half-brothers, forcing them and your parents to depart for Dragonstone in the midst of the night. 

You had stayed behind, wanting to make up for the time you had lost with your grandsire ever since your family had relocated. 

What proved to be a terrible mistake. 

In the following morning, you had awoken to a commotion outside of your chamber’s doors, only to find it locked and with no way for you to escape. 

You hardly learned what had been going on when three maids scurried into your chambers no less than six hours later, bathing you and dressing you for an important occasion, yet not telling you what it was. 

A queasy feeling had weighed you down back then, which was confirmed by Alicent coming into your chambers right after to briefly inform you of Viserys’ passing and their plans to put Aegon on the throne, forcing you to attend the coronation.

She had assured your safety — for as long as you would declare yourself for Aegon. 

For a fortnight she had blessed you with her presence, after you had witnessed the coronation and the frightening exit of Rhaenys and Meleys. She had inquired about your well-being after, but not without asking if and how you had chosen. 

You had stated that you would never dare declare yourself for your mother’s usurper, and the will to keep your word was strong at the very beginning, until it wasn‘t anymore, the choice fickle and marked by your doubts. By your loneliness. 

Suddenly, Alicent had stopped visiting you. You assumed she was done hearing you reject her offer, and even though you loathed her, it had been nice to have someone to talk to – even if it was forced and merely for her own benefit. 

Most of your days you sat in silence, waiting for the moment someone would open the door to bring you to the place where they would take your head and end your life. 

But at the same time you knew that it made more sense for them to keep you alive and locked up, minimizing the chances of having you fight against their forces or even risking another enemy to claim Vermithor. 

Darkness had overtaken King’s Landing some time ago when the rustling of metal caught your attention, a deep voice booming behind the locked doors. Never before in your life had you shut a book so quickly, almost throwing it aside in plain fear.  

The dark mop of Criston Cole’s hair was the first thing you saw, and your instincts forced you to bring as much space as possible between you and him. 

Despite your father being none other than the Rogue Prince himself, having learned it by accident after eavesdropping on a conversation you should not have heard, you lacked his fighting experience and hadn’t been trained with the sword. All efforts to get away from the man they dubbed the Kingmaker therefore were fruitless. 

It might have been the mistrust caused by Rhaenys‘ escape, highly doubting your refusal to come with him was intimidating enough, but a thick ribbon was tied around your wrists to keep you bound and secured as he guided you out of your chambers. 

It was clear it was a volatile decision, assuming he had taken the ribbon from one of the maids' clothing, but you were glad he had not put you in shackles. 

“His Grace wishes to speak to you,“ another guard accompanying you two barked after an endless amount of pestering, annoyed that you only wanted to learn if it was the fateful night the Stranger would take you. 

The path they led you along was not unfamiliar, and when the heavy doors to the Throne Room opened, you were roughly shoved into the darkness, barely illuminated by the light a few torches and candles granted. 

At the far end of the room on the massive throne sat who you assumed was your uncle Aegon, the Conqueror's crown atop his silver mane and shimmering in the light. 

His presence felt heavy, overwhelming even, and forced your eyes to dart to the ground, watching every step as Criston all but pushed you towards the seat that was destined for your mother. 

Preparing to meet your fate, the color drained from your face as you spotted the wrong uncle sitting on the throne, looking exactly like he had the last time you two were in the same room.

It was the evening before the Stranger had taken your grandsire, the only difference was the crown forged for none other than Aegon the First sitting on his head. 

The Iron Throne loomed large behind his lithe frame, looking every bit as intimidating as Aemond in his all black attire, clad in leather from his boots up to the eyepatch, and a dagger strapped to his waist. 

His one good eye studied you carefully, almost curiously, remaining on you even as Aemond rose from the throne, stepping down to approach you. With the intensity of his gaze, you felt almost bare in the black nightgown you wore, though the high neckline and long skirt didn’t give anything of your modesty away. 

“Leave us,” Aemond’s voice eventually pierced through, the words said in a tone void of any emotion. 

You heard Criston‘s armor clink behind you. “But, Your Grace, I–”

“Rest assured I can handle her,” Aemond interrupted. 

And then the man behind you left the room at once, leaving only you and your uncle. It was eerily quiet, quite different from the Throne Room you knew back as your grandsire occupied the large seat. 

You gazed down at the ribbon still tied around your wrists, tugging at it once to distract yourself from the steely gaze of Aemond burning through your skin, unsettling you. 

“Do you know why I brought you here?” he asked in the same cold tone, sizing you up. 

When your head tilted up again, meeting his eye, you spotted it darting towards your neck, causing your skin to heat up. Briefly looking to the side, you shrugged your shoulders. “To get rid of me, I assume,” you replied, trying hard to suppress the shaking in your voice. 

A low ‘hm’ rumbled in his chest, and you spotted his lilac eye moving from yours downwards to your neck again. Something must have caught his attention, causing him to smirk as if he had seen a particularly fine artwork. 

When he reached to slightly tug the neckline of your nightgown down, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your eyes widened – intrigued or afraid, you weren’t quite certain. 

The pendant of your necklace was pinched between his fingers, and you glanced down to spot his thumb dragging over the small sapphire in the center of it.

It was the Valyrian steel necklace he had gifted you to your name day, acquired on one of his rare journeys onto the streets of King‘s Landing long before he had lost his eye. 

“You were meant to be mine, you know?” His voice remained mostly unemotional, yet a lilt of affection became evident in his tone for a second, the corners of his lips quirking up. It appeared as if he had thought back to the times you two had spent together at court, without a care and without the burdens of the crown on your shoulders.

The frown on your face encouraged him to carry on, a smirk still adorning his lips. “Do you remember when we practiced dancing when we were ten-and-one?” Oh, how you remembered. Aegon had always been a drunken fool, stepping on your feet and pushing you around out of the rhythm of the music, while Aemond had been nothing less than gentle and careful with you, laughing whenever you or he stepped onto each other's toes. 

“I never thought someone could have such delicate feet, such–”

“Why am I here, Aemond?” you pressed, not wanting to dwell on the fond memories you had shared even longer with your heart rate rising with every word. 

His smirk faltered for a split second, the eye that wasn’t concealed by black leather widening. One of his hands found the small of your back, and he used the grip to pull you towards him. “I could treat you right,” he said, his voice growing softer. 

It was evident he knew how he made you feel. He knew you had admired him back then, you had confessed it before your family left for Dragonstone, and he just assumed you still did. You had admired his boldness and courage, his wit — and nothing had changed. 

But it also felt as if he merely intended to persuade you for the same reasons his mother had tried to do, the fluttering emotions flattening out as quickly as they had soared through your body. 

You took a step back in an attempt to create some space between you. Aemond didn’t hold onto you, he didn’t stop you, but his hand stayed in the air as if he meant to reach for you again. But he didn’t. 

“I know, and I can‘t…,“ you said. I want to, but I can‘t betray my own mother, my own blood, was what you thought. “No.“ 

The lingering feelings of loneliness and abandonment had you wanting to give in. You wanted to give in to him more than anything. It was what you had desired for so, so long. But you had to remain strong, even though you were left to fend all by yourself, for none of your family had come to save you. 

“No, I won’t declare myself for Aegon,“ you said, looking him straight in the eye. You tried to keep your voice cold, though it was clear that something inside of you tried to crawl to the surface. 

An arrogant smile etched onto his features at your words. He could see your resistance weaken, spot your eyes flickering between his good one and his lips. Your attraction was not as hidden to him as you would have liked it to be. 

“Your fears are unfounded, little niece.“ He caressed your cheek with a gentle touch, while mischief flickered in the lilac of his eye, juxtaposing his actions. “Let me show you just how well I could treat you. Let me show you that you matter… to me.“

Your fears were not unfounded. Not in the prospect of committing treason should your mother ever ascend the throne. But it was his gentle touch that made you weak, though you tried to hold onto the last threads of your resolve, trying your best to remain loyal to the side of the family that had obviously long abandoned you to rot in the viper’s nest. 

“No,” you muttered softly in response, looking away once more. I must not, for I shall regret this, you thought. The fear to betray your mother by giving in to him was too big, but in the end it was far outweighed by your lust for him.

It was as if Aemond could spot the exact moment in which your resistance started to crumble, because in a swift movement, he had his hand right where it had rested on your waist before, and used the grip to turn you around, forcing your back flush against his chest. 

The gasp you released was loud, but nothing compared to the way your heartbeat pounded in your ears as his other hand clasped around your throat, your tied hands immediately coming up to seize his wrist. 

He had heard one no too much, his patience running thin. “I’ll show you that you belong to me,” he rasped into your ear, a shiver running down your spine that settled at the apex of your legs. 

Squeezing your throat once, Aemond urged you forwards, shoving you towards one of the big column statues of the Throne Room. 

Without tilting your head up, it wasn’t as if you had the chance to do so with your cheek pressed against the cold stone, you knew it was Aenys the First looking down at you two. And if he would've known what was going to take place right under the keepsake dedicated to his memory, he would’ve ordered his dragon to burn the keep to ashes at once.

Aemond’s weight pressed you against the column, your hands pinned over your head by one of his large ones. With his lips close to your ear, hot and heavy breath fanning over your flushed skin, you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about the trap you found yourself in. 

“I’ll show you what you are,” he said. You firmly believed for him to make a jab at you, similar to what he had said at supper, but it didn’t come. Instead, his lips landed on your neck, not lingering long enough to press more than one chaste kiss to your skin before he pulled back to speak again, “mine.”

You weren’t quite sure whether you wanted to leave or not – for your mind had gone blank. The possessiveness laced within his cold voice, the burning where his lips had pressed a kiss to your neck, and his hands on your body were the only things on your mind. 

The nightgown you wore was thin enough for you to feel even the faintest of his touches, fingertips roaming over the curve of your waist down to your arse, driving you to insanity. 

Mewling and squirming in his grasp like a trapped kitten, the husky chuckle behind you gave away that he was more than enjoying this. You were giving in, your resolve crumbling, and he knew you were enjoying it just as much as him. 

“There, is that my sweet, little niece I missed from court?” he whispered softly, while his hand fisted the skirts of your nightgown, lifting it enough to allow his hand to snake underneath. Goosebumps prickled on your skin, much more at the sudden realization of just how close he was. 

His fingers mindlessly ghosted over the linen of your smallclothes, the outside of your thigh, but never coming close enough to where you wanted him most. 

“Did you miss me, princess?” There was a sense of affection weaving itself through his cold tone, only for him to emphasize your title in such a condescending manner, it had your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

When there didn’t come an answer, he connected his palm with your arse in a way that had your whole body jerking, your thighs trying to squeeze together to diminish the aching. But Aemond had his foot firmly planted between yours, his knee positioned high enough to make any movements impossible. 

“I asked you a question,” the prince behind you snarled, the grip of his hand on your wrists bruising, feeling as if he meant to crush your bones. “Did you miss me?”

“Y-yes,” your voice was low, almost shy, “yes, Aemond, I missed you.” 

A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest, and, trying to catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder, you spotted his characteristic smirk on his lips, seeming even more devilish with the red rubies of the Conqueror's Crown shimmering in the dim light. 

His fingers traced over the contours of your thigh before they dragged over your clothed cunt more firmly, and you choked on a moan, trying your best to stifle the sound in case anyone were to barge into the Throne Room.

But seeing how much your body ached for him, how badly you wanted him, Aemond didn’t care whether you were too loud or not. 

He just enjoyed having you at his mercy, unable to really see him or get away from him. You were completely depending on him and whatever he wanted to do to and with you. 

Aemond pressed his clothed member against your lower back, letting you feel its hardness and making his desire for you clear. 

You were unable to escape him, but you didn’t even want to for the heat emanating from him drove you insane, not able to contain your desire and passion any longer. Your smallclothes were clinging to your soaked womanhood, and the aching you felt between your legs started to become uncomfortable. 

When his head tipped towards yours, your eyes searched for his, wanting to lock gazes and beg for him to finally free you from his torments. But his good eye didn’t meet yours. 

The pressure on your wrists released with his arm snaking around your waist, holding you tightly in place while he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Four moons did I have to walk these halls with the knowledge of you waiting for me behind one of these doors,” he gruffed into your ear. “Do you know how badly I have longed for this moment to happen? How long I had to wait to finally be able to claim you as mine? There will be no one else desiring to have you once I am done with you.”

You didn’t answer him for your voice was gone as you panted for air. Your body was shaking, wanting him oh so desperately. 

“All you have to do is to swear to me, niece,” he said, his lips moving along your neck, nibbling and licking over your skin. It should have concerned you. It should have felt like a knife to your heart. And your body felt as if it was on fire, but it was ignited by his lips and fingers working the most sensitive spots on your body, not by his words. “Just give me your word, and you will be mine.”

That was the moment his true intentions showed, juxtaposed by his lingering touches and the desire in his voice. 

His caresses had pushed you to your limits. You were drunk on him, drunk on his warmth, his scent and the dominance he displayed over you. “I swear, I-I swear,” you stammered, “All of it, I pledge myself to you, Aemond.”

Aemond had you, and there was no way to refuse him now, no way to stop him. You were giving into his touches, his words, his presence. You were his.

As you arched your back against his frame, he was caught off guard and took a step back, inhaling a sharp breath at the friction your arse created against his stiff member. You seized the opportunity and spun on your heels, staring at Aemond with wide, lust blown eyes. 

He was on you in a matter of seconds, backing you firmly up against the column again. But this time, his mouth was on yours, kissing you with a burning need. Slipping past your lips, his tongue moved to explore your mouth, sliding back and forth along yours. 

You whimpered into the kiss, the heat of desire weakening your knees. Aemond pressed himself against you, his body molding around yours as his hands traveled over your sides, consuming you entirely. 

With his hands trailing down to your thighs, he hoisted you up and wrapped them around his waist, supporting your weight as he slowly walked towards the Iron Throne. It seemed as if he knew the path by heart, your lips not parting once for him to watch his step. 

Sitting down on the throne, you sat astride him, hunched over and gazing down at him, while his half-lidded eye studied you carefully. It darted down to your bound wrists, and his nimble fingers were quick to reach for his dagger and slice through the fabric. 

You massaged the reddened flesh with a soft hiss, though you were not sure it was prompted by the ministrations of your own hands or Aemond’s harshly digging into your hips. You closed your eyes, frighteningly aware of the dagger pinched between his digits, and tried to squirm away from his grasp with a jerk, dragging your clothed cunt over the protruding bulge in the front of his breeches. 

A blush covered your cheeks as it dawned on you what you had done, more so as you heard him draw in a sharp breath, and you sheepishly folded your hands in front of you, looking down at them. 

Raising an eyebrow, Aemond leaned back against the throne, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Your lack of self-control humors me,” he said, his voice mocking and full of judgment. You swallowed thickly, heat blossoming in your belly. “I only let you have a little bit of me, but you seem so desperate to have me fully.” 

With his hands still on your hips, he started to guide them back and forth, dragging your cunt over his hard cock. His head tipped back slightly, and the bump in his throat bobbed as he swallowed each time you rutted against his member. 

The coil in your belly tightened slowly, and encouraged you enough to grind your hips against him all by yourself, your breathy whimpers growing in volume. 

“All it took for you to give in was my cock, mh?” he groaned, one hand entangling in your hair to bring your face level with his, “and I have yet to stuff it inside.”

A breathy whimper was all you managed to release at his words, your lips agape with shaky breaths escaping them. The movements of your hips didn’t stop once, chasing the pleasure that built inside of you. 

Half-lidded eyes fixed with his good one, and, even in the dim light, you could see that the lilac hue of it was almost eclipsed by black. 

“Pray tell, how badly do you want my cock, niece?” he asked, a lilt of mockery in the baritone of his voice. But you could not form a coherent thought. The profanity of his words, and the way his hardness pressed so firmly against your aching cunt robbed you of your ability to think. 

“Do not make me repeat myself,” he warned, fingers digging into your flesh to halt your movements, and causing the pleasure to dissolve just as quickly as it came. 

Pouting at the loss of friction, you were forced to find your voice again. “So, so badly,” you whined, sounding more desperate than intended. “Give-Give it to me… please.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, eagerly anticipating his next move, though there was disappointment igniting inside of you as Aemond merely tsked at your words. “My my, look at you. You came here convinced the Stranger would take you in your mother’s name, and now you are begging for my cock, begging me to finally put an end to your suffering. Who would have thought that my cock would turn you into a traitor?”

You would have felt ashamed and guilty you gave in to him, to the enemy, but the only thing on your mind right now was the longing to be filled and consumed by him. If there was a traitor, it was your mother for not once inquiring about you or saving you from your misery. 

Caressing your cheek in an unusually tender manner, you all but melted into his touch. “But how could I ever say no to my sweet, little niece? You have been such a good girl, let me give you what you desire.” 

Aemond bundled the skirt of your nightgown in one hand, revealing your undergarments to him. In a careful movement, he dragged the sharp tip of the dagger from the curve of your waist down your side, hooking it beneath the waistband to easily slice through the linen. 

As he pushed it to the side, his eye fixed your exposed womanhood like a man starved, ready to feast on you at any given moment. It was amusing to watch him recklessly throw the dagger aside and fumble with the laces of his breeches, a stark contrast to the stern and cold demeanor he had kept before. 

Grasping hold of your hips firmly, he lifted them slightly before he aligned the tip of his cock with your cunt. “Let us see how well you can take me.“

He pressed his cock against your tight entrance, feeling the resistance as he prepared to ease into you. One hand moved to cup your arse, supporting you, and allowing you to lower yourself on him. And, with a swift buck of his hips, a seemingly impatient Aemond met yours halfway, filling you completely at once. 

Your face contorted in pleasure at the sensation, the burning of the stretch quickly melting into a feeling of plain bliss. “Gods,” you whimpered, clenching tightly around him. 

With slow grinds, you started to adjust to his size, growing bolder and bolder with each swivel of your hips over his. 

“Feels so–” 

“Good, I know,” he finished your sentence, the words accompanied by a raspy groan. His head tipped back against the throne, his hands mindlessly tracing over your sides as he groaned a ‘you feel so fucking good’ that had you biting your bottom lip, keening at the praise.

Every now and then, Aemond bucked his hips up into yours, the intensity forcing you to topple forwards, causing you to plant your hands firmly on his shoulders. His cock was bullying the sweet spot inside of you that made you see stars, causing your fingers to dig into his shoulders. 

One of his hands settled at your breast, groping it through the thin fabric of your shift. His fingers pinched and teased your hardened bud, and with the added pleasure, your moans grew more wanton. 

“Shit, you’re taking me so well,” he rambled, seemingly cunt struck by the way your walls clenched and released around him every time you sank down his hard member. “You may be a princess, but I shall make you my Queen. You belong to me.” Though his voice was still gruff, it had gained an added layer of intimacy, reflecting in the way he looked up at you.  

Your heart hammered in your chest at the sight and his words, and the pace of your hips faltered as he brought his hand up to grab a hold of the Conqueror's Crown, taking it off his head to place it on top of yours. 

“It looks better on you than it ever did on him,“ he panted, his voice genuine as he stared up at you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. 

You moved a hand upwards to hold the crown steady, afraid it would fall to the ground with the impact of your hips colliding with his. Your body moved on its own accord, hips grinding down on him, riding him as you chased your pleasure. 

You moaned softly, “By the Seven, Aemond, so good.“

Spurred on by the sight of you wearing the crown and fucking yourself stupid on his cock, he firmly planted his feet on the ground to piston his hips up into yours, meeting you halfway. 

The sound of skin slapping on skin was not really audible with him barely pushing his breeches down enough to free his hard cock, the hem of his tunic sitting low enough to cover most of his lower stomach. But there was no need for it, for your heavy pants, grunts and moans were loud enough to echo off the walls of the empty Throne Room. 

Aemond’s thumb started to drag over the little bud at the apex of your legs, sending a bolt of pleasure up your spine, causing the knot in your belly to tighten rapidly. Your breath quickened, and your walls clenched around him so tightly, you were not sure if they even unclenched once. 

“I shall fill you up, put a child in you,” he grunted, gaze fixed on where you both were connected, watching himself repeatedly disappear inside of your tight cunt. “Do you want that?” His tone made it clear that it was not a question, but you still whimpered several yesses in return, merging into a loud cry of his name as your peak washed over you. 

He drove his hips up into yours, fucking you through your high despite your body crouching forwards and your hips stilling, merely clinging to him for dear life as the pleasure soared through your body, coursing through your veins like liquid fire. 

“And when you’re with my child, you will not be able to get away from me,” he rambled, inhaling sharply as he felt his stones tighten, nearing his own peak. “You are-,“ he hissed in between, “You are all mine.”

You were trembling astride him, barely registering his words and whining when you felt how your peak’s contractions were practically forcing the spend out of your uncle‘s cock, milking him for every drop of his seed. 

There was silence between you, safe for your heavy breathing, as if you both waited for the other’s voice to cut through it. 

The realization of the repercussions your actions and words would bring settled a few moments later, when the haze of your peak cleared, and you spotted Aemond looking up at you with a smug smirk on his lips. 

“The crown on your head is a promise of the fact that I will make you my Queen,” he purred, a cold edge to his voice. Aemond licked his lips, and grazed his hands over your hips, squeezing your flesh. “I have claimed you, and I will make use of you however and whenever I see fit.”

As he spoke, you slowly realized what he meant and felt yourself growing warm inside all over again, clenching around his flaccid member. It felt exhilarating to know that he would not hesitate to take full advantage of you, and there was excitement filling your body. But most importantly, it felt as if you finally found a place where you belonged, where you were wanted and seen. 

“That is how it is going to be,” you whispered, nodding once to emphasize your words. “I-I am all yours.”

Aemond leaned forwards and rested his forehead against yours, releasing a deep sigh before his smooth voice interrupted the short moment of intimacy and proximity.

“With you now sworn to me, I believe ‘tis time to bring you back in the fold. There is much that has happened since you last were at court.”

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[barbieaemond]

A snake in the bosom

Moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: Prince Regent Aemond x Lady!reader

WARNINGS: dark Aemond, angst, public humiliation, semi public sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), religious kink, knife kink if you squint, overstimulation, light choking.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

Author’s note: House Peake were green loyalists during the Dance. Shout out to @zae5 who helped me brain storming this filth 🫶

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

The skies rumble as they always do when preluding a storm. But it’s different this time. The thunder echoes in your chest, sliding through your ribs and then rattling them to break free.

A warning, the Gods’ way to seal what cannot be undone. They greet this new day, this new order, with blinding lightning. The Wood seems bathed by the early morning light, and yet the owls will soon resume their sentry task on the branches of these ancient trees.

A new flash forces you to look up and you think you can see them, the Seven, leaning out from their perches, pointing a finger at a woman like any other, with her bowed head devoted to obedience and her tight corset to choke to death any desire inside her heart.

And you did.

You stopped going to the library, you kept your eyes faithfully down, weeding out the need to caress the silver through your gaze, to feel the cold alabaster carved into angles so precise and sharp as to be exhausting.

You stopped lingering on the delicacy of long white fingers turning pages, on white knuckles around the sword, rippling with veins, blue and green as snakes crawling underneath. 

Not looking didn't do much good.

It's all burned into your eyelids, and the more you don't look the more your mind betrays you like a stab in the back, evoking slender hands and an arched mouth that lazily pulls itself up into an omniscient smirk.

It happens so often that you've come to terms with it. Desire is a shadow that follows you step by step, crawls into your bed as you lie with your husband, makes you close your eyes as you peak and in the darkness that shadow is finally flesh, pulsing and weighing on you, but it is not.

It shouldn’t and it will never.

The lightning tells you can no longer hide, there is no way to stall now, no way to trick the King about the allegiance of your family. It is easy to fool a fool, more so when he’s willing to make himself one in front of a woman. But the King is burned. His cries of pain can be heard outside Maegor’s Holdfast, until the Maesters are merciful enough to give him milk of the poppy.

The throne is empty, the Kingdom has no ruler. But the Gods are snickering with thrill and dread.

Not for long.

“My lady, there’s a storm coming.”

You turn and see your maid clutching a cloak to her chest to shelter from the wind. "Please, you should go back inside.”

You nod tiredly, walking on the thick grass, dragging yourself back within these walls in which days seem to pass following two different times.

There’s the real, urgent one, a military up and down of whispers and promises, pawns moving and ravens coming and going, breaking or forging alliances as easy and quick as their wings flapping. And then there’s your time, dilated, obscenely slow, like molasses. It sticks to your fingers, prevents you from picking up ink and parchment and write, cheat, whisper what you have easily spilled from the worn out lungs of your husband.

“Men sing like parrots in their final throes, remember that. They’d tell you anything when they think with their cock.”

Samantha had been right. But your sister is playing her game in Oldtown and Old Town is not the Red Keep. There are no eyes on the walls there, or ears behind the portraits. There’s no shadow trailing on her path, clouding her mind enough to look away from the game. A game of life and death, your father reminded you in his last letter, the scolding clear in the way the feather had pierced the parchment in some points. The answer was nowhere but in your head, and you were too ashamed to even confess it to a Septa, let alone put it on paper. There’s a snake crawling in your garden of lies and instead of chasing it away, you’re nursing it in your bosom.

You slow your steps upon glimpsing your husband. He’s striding towards you along the corridor. There’s a slight furrow between his brows, one that you have been able to recognize on the faces of many within this fortress. But it's more severe now, or maybe it's just that shadow that makes you see a new man, a stranger.

Has his hair always been that dull and mousy? Has his posture always been so unassuming?

They have since that night in the library, the sin whispers.

“Husband.”

“I’ve been looking for you. We have been summoned to the throne room.”

“Is something the matter? Is the King—"

"The King lives. But the Maesters believe it is best to confine him to bed. Come, Prince Aemond is waiting for us." he grabs your arm and you walk with him, glad that he can’t see the shadow falling on your face at the mention of the King’s brother.

The throne room is so dark that servants are hurrying themselves to light more candles. Every now and then a new lightning flashes from the large windows, making the Iron Throne an eerie sight at the center of the Hall.

There are a few Lords of the court with their ladies, and they seem just as lost as you as they see you and your husband halting before the ancient seat.

Whereas not more than a moon ago, Lords and Ladies would have had to wait hours to be received by Aegon, the new ruler is not long in coming.

The huge doors open and Aemond Targaryen stalks the room carrying the same storm breaking outside. He makes a striking figure, ominous; the lighting pours on his long silver hair making them look like moon rays.

A dreamy picture, were it not for the conqueror's crown on his head and the sapphire in plain sight.

It is the first time you see him without the eyepatch, the first time anyone has seen him without it. They said he wore it so as not to frighten the ladies, but the one-eyed Prince is done hiding. And if fear is all he can muster, so be it. It serves him well for what will come.

He halts before the Iron Throne and takes a good look at the little gathering. You can’t help but trail your eyes on his lean and tall figure, wearing a dark green doublet made of velvet. But it’s the sapphire that catches your eye, and the long scar marring his marbled face.

You remember that one. You remember it shamefully clear while disappearing along with his head beneath your gown.

“My lords” he starts lacing his hands behind his back “As you may know, my brother is in no condition to rule. Thus, according to the law, in case of physical or mental incapacity of the sovereign, the younger brother must bear the weight of the crown.”

There is a shy, almost uneasy passing of glances between those present, but Aemond ignores them altogether. “I will not style myself as King. You will address me as Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm."

Silence falls upon the huge Hall until a loud thunder seem to awaken one of the lords who hurriedly bends his knee before the Prince. "My Prince, I renew my absolute loyalty to you and your—“

"Get up, my Lord, I did not summon you to hear you pledge your loyalty.” He says in a bored tone, darting his eye at the man “Rest assured, if I had any doubt about it, Vhagar would be feasting on your corpse as we speak.”

Silence falls once more and Aemond revels in it. He can smell fear, just like the creature he rides. “But you did raise an interesting subject.” he tilts his head and looks at Lord Peake, your husband, with a benevolent expression stretching on his face. “Lord Peake, if I asked you to pledge your loyalty to me and my family, would you do it?”

You dare not to raise your head, keeping your eyes glued to the ground, but you can sense your husband’s uneasiness, the sound close to one being insulted as he addresses the Prince. “Prince Aemond, my loyalty to your Grandsire and the Dowager Queen has never wavered and it never shall.”

The Prince nods slowly, seemingly pleased by the answer, and keeps his gaze down for a few moments before casting a sharp glance at you. You can’t see it but you can feel it.

“That is very noble of you, Lord Peake. But I can’t help but wonder, is your lady wife of the same mind as you?”

Lord Peake looks puzzled, shifting the weight on his feet “My Prince, my wife is—”

“No.” Aemond cuts him off, darting a single look at the Lord before returning on you “Let her speak.”

With a deep breath, you look up, shrinking under his violet eye and the sapphire ominously glinting of his own light. “My prince, I am saddened that your Grace would think I’m nothing but loyal to your brother, the one and only heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Every day, I pray the Gods to heal him from his burns and give him strength to—”

“Hush.” He says, raising a hand to stop you. “That’s enough.”

You shut your mouth nervously, tensing all the more as he looks at you, unblinking, for a long moment before his lips stretch into a slow, cunning smirk.

“You know, I spoke to your distant cousin once, Lord…something Tyrell. He said something very interesting to me.”

You keep a blank face even when dread starts to run down your spine. Despite the distant kinship, there’s always been bad blood between Tarlys and Tyrells. 

“He said to be very careful with Tarly women. Pretty vapid things, he said, hiding a viper’s bite.”

“I am neither my prince.” you state calmly “I’m just a woman like any other, serving my husband, my house, my King.”

“Hmm.” He ponders, the smile lingering still. Then, he picks something form his pocket and asks “What is this then?”

Despite the darkness, you could recognize that seal with eyes closed. And that seal, now, in this room, clutched by Prince Aemond’s fingers, is a death sentence.

“This is not the seal of House Peake.” he rightly says.

You look down, mustering your courage, and say “No, your Grace. That is just a silly token of love between two sisters. I use it to send ravens to my sister in Oldtown.”

“I see. And why do you hide it?”

“I do not, your Grace.”

“Lying to the King may cost your head, my Lady. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Wife…” your husband takes your arm, searches your face with an anxious stare “What is going on?”

“The White cloaks found it.” The Prince informs him “when I made them search your rooms.” He looks back at you and raises an eyebrow “For a token you’re supposed to be so fond of, I may suggest placing it somewhere else than the bottom of an old trunk.”

“Am I on trial for sending letters to my sister?”

“Yes. Considering the circumstances under which these ravens were sent. Ladies give letters to their maids, they do not go personally to the rookery, more so in the hour of the bat.”

Courage leaves you like a gust of wind. You thought you had been clever, careful. Why would anyone take notice of a court lady simply taking a walk in the early hours? And even if they had, they would have dismissed the thought at the first distraction. But not him.

“You think I would not notice? I may be half blind but I can assure you, my lady, I see everything.”  He throws the seal on the ground and resumes his soldier-like posture, standing tall and domineering with his arms laced back. “What did you tell your sister? Knowledge about our war plans? Are you secretly siding with the Blacks? I’d advise you to choose your words carefully. From them depends whether you’ll see the next dawn or not.”

Your shoulders slump a little, like a doomed creature sticking its head in the noose.

“My father asked me to spy on my husband to gather knowledge about the green army at Rook’s Rest. But I did not send any raven. I stopped since—"

“Since what? Do continue, my lady, I think your Lord husband is keen to know why his wife stopped playing him like a fool.” He leans his head forward, like someone desperately willing to hear a big secret, but your tongue is a dead thing in your mouth.

“No?” he inquires as silence stretches “Fine, I’ll tell you. You see, Lord Peake, recently your Lady wife seemed to have developed a sudden interest in the library.” the prince says with a little grin “I’m aware of this because I am myself an avid reader. In fact, your lady wife and I have been keeping each other company lately. A rather…intimate company.”

Some of the ladies start to whisper at your back, and you know what kind of words they’re labeling you.

“Wife.” Your husband calls, and this time his voice is steel “What is the meaning of this?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure whether it is worse to tell your husband how you’ve played him or to confess your sin.

“Come, don't deny it now.” the Prince goads you “All the hours you've spent, all those late nights did bear fruit, did they not? You've betrayed your house and the Crown, yet what sweetness it was to have gotten a taste, I'm sure your husband would agree.”

Lord Peaks looks utterly bewildered, shifting his gaze between you and the Prince like a dead fish.

“Oh, so he hasn't after all.” Aemond laughs “A pity, for your treacherous essence reeks of the most bittersweet nectar. Tart, but delicious.”

Your husband’s face is whiter than a sheet for a moment, followed by a red veil of anger and shame. The latter is in plain sight in the way you keep your head down; the Gods have stopped pointing their finger at you and left you in the claws of a much crueler creature. Namely, your own desire.

 “Search her.” Aemond orders returning to a stern face “And search her thoroughly.”

“My prince?” asks one of the guards.

“Women can be sneaky with all those veils and layers. Lose the corset.”

The cloaks look at him puzzled, just as you and your husband and anyone else in the room, but the guards know better than to disobey the King. 

One of them goes to stand behind you and starts pulling the laces of your dress, another is busying himself with lowering your sleeves.

Your eyes bore to the ground with the purest humiliation as your chest gradually grows exposed. You could raise your hands to hide your breast, but you have nothing to hide, not anymore.

You know it and Aemond knows too. He’s not doing this because he thinks you’re hiding something. He’s doing so for his own pleasure—to see you bare, to finally make you come out of your den and stop hiding from him. 

You dare not look at him but you can feel his eye lingering on you, on your body; you can sense the ghost of a delighted smirk on that wicked mouth. 

He takes an unreasonably long time before he gives a short nod to the guards, at last satisfied with your public humiliation. What drives your husband to move is not regard for you, but for his own dignity. What are women if not property of men? And however ruined you are now, Lord Peake will not have talk of his wife standing with her breasts out in the Throne Room.

But just as he leans down to you, the Prince speaks “You may go, Lord Peake. All of you.”

The Lord stalls, looking lost at his Prince.

“You can wait outside. She stays.” Aemond commands.

His eye is boring into you as he walks down the few steps with leisure, lingering on the sole of his boot before resting it on the ground. “She needs to learn the price of her disobedience.”

Your husband hesitates, looks at you with lingering disdain and a veil of fear that keeps his eyes wide open, but he can only bow his head.

When you’re left alone the Prince, save for the guards on the four sides of the hall, you dare to look up and see his eye blazing, a cunning edge to it.

He starts circling around you, and what’s left of your dignity makes your hands fly up to cover your chest.

“You said you stopped writing to your sister. And you stopped coming to the library.” he starts with a collected and calm voice. “Why?”

“You know why.” you mutter.

“You better drop this condescending tone if you want to leave this room with your head on your shoulders.”

“Apologies, my Prince. I did not mean to offend you. But I dim you wise enough to understand why I thought it was best to keep my distance from you.”

He stops his circling for a moment “Enlighten me.” and then he’s pacing again.

You swallow, smelling ashes and smoke on his trail. “It was a sin.”

“Hmm. Which one?” He asks somewhere behind you. Out the corner of your eye, you see him slightly leaning towards you, silver rolling past his shoulder as he cocks his head to one side “Your betrayal or the fact that you let me feast on your cunt like a common whore?”

You swallow again. Shame is still coiling in your belly, but there’s also something else on hearing those words coming from his mouth, recalling that night. This man has just humiliated you in front of the court and yet you crave for him to get closer.

“Both.”

“Both?”

“I did not want to.” You say and it’s true. And this, this is the last chance you might have to avoid the pike, or worse, Vhagar’s fangs. “My father forced me.” You say turning your head left and right as he resumes his pacing behind you “I don’t know which kind of deal he has struck with Prince Daemon but I swear it, my Prince, I said nothing about Rook’s Rest, I—“

The word dies on your tongue along with your breath as you feel the coldness of a sharp blade against your throat.

“I should slit your throat here and now.” He whispers dangerously, you can hear his teeth gritting. His arm is pressing on your chest, keeping you locked against him. “What else Lord Tarly ordered you in all his great wisdom? Mh? To seduce me? To play me like a fool, like you played my brother and your husband to gather knowledge about our armies and report it to my uncle and his whore?”

“No, I—" you try to say, but he presses the blade firmer and you choke a gasp, unconsciously grabbing his arm.

“You will speak when I say so.” He seethes, pulling your arm back with his other hand, painfully twisting your bone until a moan of pain escapes your mouth.

It awakens something inside him, something savage that makes him collide his body against yours “Hmm.” He coos darkly in your ear “This brings me back to that night.”

He swiftly twirls the dagger, sheathing the Valyrian steel, but his hand is quick to resume his caging, sliding on your half-covered breast, looking down your shoulders at your bare chest.

His fingers are cold as they slowly travel up, but they lick flames on your skin, making your nipples harden. “Do you remember, little snake? I do.” he runs the tip of his finger on the hard sensitive skin and you whimper softly “It was hard to forget the sounds you made.” He speaks to your neck, his breath scorching “I could hear them when I fucked my hand at night. You made me sin so many times. Was that part of the plan too? Did your father force you to moan my name while you peaked on my tongue?”

“Please…” you sob quietly, feeling fire nestling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his bulge against your lower back.

“Do you moan like that when your husband fucks you? Mh?”

He wants an answer, and he pinches one of your nipples when you don’t please him.

“No…”

“No? I thought so.”

Your body reacts on his own, clenching for how his voice in your ear pools like liquid fire below your stomach. You can see his delighted smirk out of the corner of your eye. “You better speak now, little one. Not even the Gods can save you from the spike. Why would they? They turn their backs on traitors and sinners. And you dared to sin with a Kinslayer. You have only me to beg for mercy.”

“You don’t want to kill me.” You choke when his hand laces around your throat.

He would’ve done it already. He might still do it, but his pressing hardness on your back tells you otherwise.

“No. I have a better use for you.” he says squeezing your neck “I will make an example out of your treacherous mouth. They will look at you and be reminded of the mercy of my crown.”

He steps back and you have little time to catch your breath as he sits on the Iron Throne with the confidence of a God on his perch. The candles mix with lightnings, making the blue of the sapphire and the obsidian of the crown shimmer in a disturbing way.

He rests his arms along the forged swords, his long legs almost sprawled out on the ground. “Come and pledge your loyalty, my lady.”

Your heart hammers in your throat as you swallow. This is a game of life or death, but not now. Your two times have merged into a perpetual dizziness and you’re sinking into the claws of your desire like quicksand.

“No.” he admonishes with a voice like honey when you dare a step closer “On your knees. Like the sinner you are.”

You sink to the ground and his eye goes down with you, smirking with something savage flashing on his face. “Go ahead.” He says spreading his legs around you. “Take your blessing.”

You raise your hands slowly, close to his belt but when you start unbuckling it you find there’s no tremor in your fingers. And he’s too quick to notice. “You wanted this, do you?” he asks “Did you close your eyes and pretend to suck my cock instead of your husband’s?”

The buckles clink together as you finish the unbuckling but he suddenly leans over you, gripping your cheeks with a hold of iron.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” You quickly, shamefully say.

The left edge of his mouth pulls up tiredly, omnisciently. “How? Like this?” In a blink his long fingers breach your mouth, hitting the back of your throat until you choke on them. He pulls them back just slightly, grazing your tongue, and he looks at you with a lustful blaze in his eye.

“Suck.” he orders, and you oblige, keeping your eyes on him as your mouth close around his two fingers, sucking gently and twirling your tongue around the skin.

“Hmm.” He croons with pleasure, leaving your mouth abruptly to lean back against the throne, sliding a little on the ancient seat to push his crotch before you. He makes haste of pulling his cock out, giving it a few tugs while he keeps looking at you, at the longing darkening your eyes and wetting your gowns.

You take hold of his hard hot length, all veiny and leaking from the tip and it’s only natural for you to close your lips around it. You have obscenely dreamed of this.

He lets out a loud gasp, gripping the throne with his hands as your head goes down, taking him all in. It hits the back of your throat with a lewd choking sound; you breathe through your nose, resuming your holy punishment once you have adjusted to length and girth, sucking hard and fast.

"Greedy little thing.” He praises with his eye growing heavy with pleasure “Easy. Easy, now.” he goads you to slow down, and you do, looking up to see him watching you closely, his lips parted, his breath slow and puffed.

“Fuck—” he curses, titling his head back but keeping his eye fixed on you. “See? This is the only good use for your cheating mouth. And you look so pretty.”

The ache between your legs is unbearable, you’re swollen and wet, you can feel your undergown dampening.

“Are you soaked for me, hmm? I bet you’re dripping all over the Conqueror’s swords.”

You have no way to answer as you keep bobbing your head up and down, a sinner worshipping her own sin.

“Open your mouth—wide” he orders and you do, drooling all over him as he starts to thrust harshly in your mouth.

“Yes. Like this, yes—fuck” He pumps in and out, bucking his hips, hitting your throat on and on while he moans helplessly and loudly, as only a King on his throne can.

“Hollow your cheeks.” And when you do it, something snaps inside him. He grabs your hair, pulling at the roots painfully while he keeps fucking your mouth frantically, choking your breath. But you don’t mind. This could be your last day, your last hour breathing. The snake is sucking at your bones and you welcome the poison.

“Enough.” he croaks when he was starting to breathe too fast, too close to the end. “Get up.”

Your knees ache as you pull yourself up but he’s so quick in lifting up your skirts and grabbing your waist to make you turn and sit on his lap, facing the Throne Room. The Guards are exactly where they’re supposed to be, blind and deaf to what they can perfectly see and hear.

“Let me give you my blessing, now.” Aemond says spreading your legs on the throne, making you wince as you feel his hot fingertips on your wet aching folds. “You’re soaked.” he states proudly, smiling with victory next to your ear.

He draws lazy circles on your bundle, sliding down your dripping lips, slowly, too slowly. You buck your hips against his hand and his chuckle travels up and down inside you, rattling your bones like thunder.

“Please…” you cry when his fingers brush your swollen lips once more.

“I should summon back your husband. So he’d see how his pretty wife begs to be fucked by her Prince like a whore. Shall I?”

You grab his hand, pressing it to your core and he dips a finger inside, spilling a loud moan from you that makes him bite your ear as he feels your hot walls clenching around him.

“Fine. We shall let him hear it.”

He brings his soaked fingers to your mouth, sticking them inside to make you taste yourself, and then he takes your wrist, trapping it on your stomach with his hand. He easily slides his cock inside you, moaning along with you into the haunting silence of the hall. His thrusts are deep and quick, desire has consumed him too, for too long. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh are only barely muffled by your frantic gasps. Your eyes are closed in a painful bliss, his hot labored breath dampens your neck as he fills you to the hilt.

Your throat is sore with lack of air as you turn your head and he slams his mouth against yours, filling your mouth with his scorching tongue, biting your lip and sucking until it’s swollen. All of this while relentlessly rutting into you, giving you violent bursts of pleasure that make your moans high-pitched and loud, so loud that everyone outside these walls can hear them. Your husband will hear them, the guards are definitely doing so.

“Fucking Gods, you feel so good” He pants in your mouth “You really wanted this. Your cunt is squeezing my cock like a vice. That husband of yours never fucked you this good, did he?”

“Gods—” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut but he grabs your chin with his free hand, forcing you to turn your head. “The Gods cannot hear you now. They’re deaf to the pleas of sinners.” with his free hand he clutches your bundle and he starts to torture you, drawing fast circles, while his length keeps rutting harshly. “Lucky for you I’m more merciful than the Gods.”

The tension in your belly is unbearable, it makes you cry obscenely and the sound only pushes him to go harder, faster.

“Please—I—I can’t—Gods—”

“You can’t what? Mh?” he nothing but growls, thrusting once more and then again. “This is your retribution.” He says baring his teeth “You failed your family for this. You lied and cheated. Now fucking—take—it” his last words punctuated with three deeper thrusts that make you whimper and roll your eyes back.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your peak, letting out a long moan matched with sloppy shakes of your body against his. But he doesn’t stop, chasing his own pleasure as you whimper and sob with overstimulation. His hand keeps moving on your apex, all sticky with your pleasure and you grip his arm, trying to stop him. “Please—I can’t take it anymore—please my Prince—"

“You can and you will.” He promises “Give me one more. Come on, little traitor, just one more.”  

You’re not late in granting his wish, trembling all over him and curling your toes with spasms in your muscles.

He groans loudly beneath you, teeth clamping down your shoulder and he stills completely, coming inside you with a choked sound of relief vibrating from his throat.

You whimper softly, feeling him pulsing inside you, but he grabs your waist and forces you to stand up. You waver on your weak feet, his hand is around your arm but only to firmly push you away from him. Falling on the ground, you look up to see him fixing his breeches, hair all disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Guards.” He says hoarsely, catching his breath, and two white cloaks stand at attention, their faces blank, pretending to be oblivious to what they have just witnessed. “Take her to my chambers and have the maid give her moon tea.”

Then he looks down at you, his face is wild and yet viciously focused. “We’re going to find a way to send your husband back to Starpike.” He says grazing your lips with his long fingers. “You’re not leaving my chambers anytime soon. In the time being,” his hand grips your mouth harshly, his voice eerily calm “You will write to Oldtown in your own hand, and ask my uncle to send me the head of Samantha Tarly.”

You widen your eyes with terror and he smiles, sweet and poisonous. “And remember, little snake. If I find you near the rookery at odd hours again, I will cut your throat in your sleep. Such a waste it would be. I’d rather have you choking on my cock than your own blood.”

He leaves without another word and you’re left on the ground. You can’t beg mercy to the Gods now, you will have to beg for his and his alone.

thank you so much for reading!! 💕

[jeonggukookies]

the crown's kingdom || jjk

– summary: after rejecting many suitors, your mother chooses a husband for you, and her choice is none other than your worst nightmare: Jungkook, the prince heir of Aurum. How will you survive an arranged marriage with Jungkook, the one you hate the most?

– genre: royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au, prince!jungkook, queen!reader, arranged marriage - fluff/angst

– note: this is rewritten and reposted as i changed and added some NEW details regarding both oc and jungkook & loosely based on the history of mary stuart !! (i am so sorry)

– word count: 1.2K

The two countries, Caelestia and Luxuria, have been in conflict with each other for many generations now, with constant ongoing invasion battles and military campaigns, shedding hundreds of thousands of blood on each landmass. Being two border countries surrounded by the sea, both countries were hungry for the power, land, and wealth for it to be one.  

Tensions escalated even further after your father, the king, had been assassinated by a Luxuria anarchist. Luxuria soldiers saw this opportunity to put the Caelestia castle under siege, seeing this as their chance to finally take the country as their own. 

But what they didn’t know is that your mother, the Queen Consort, had given birth to his heir. 

The throne of Caelestia, was inherited by the daughter of King Constantine of Caelestia and Queen Consort Nylah, you, two days after you were born. 

During your childhood, your mother has been acting Queen Regent, taking care of all the responsibilities on your behalf since you’ve been crowned Queen. She wasn’t like most mothers, letting you live a privileged life, not wanting you to suffer through the hardships of royalty until you were of age. 

Despite spending most of your time with your many governesses and trying to play hide and seek in the castle with other noble children, the People of Luxuria still saw you as a threat. And by your seventh birthday, they were finally brave enough to send a message, that they still wanted your throne by seasoning your porridge with poison, intentionally killing your royal taster.  

With a failed assassination attempt, your mother sent you to the country of Aurum for your protection away from the Luxurians, hidden away from your own people across the sea. 

Not only were you the Queen of Caelestia, but because of your mother’s side, you were related to the Queen of Luxuria, meaning you could claim the Luxuria throne as yours if the Queen of Luxuria dies without a heir and if the people accept you.

Before marrying your father, she had been an Aurum noblewoman with land in Luxuria, and the Aurum court allowed you to be there for your safety and as a part of a small, meaningless alliance. 

Living at Aurum Court was almost the same as your own courts. The only difference was being with other Aurum royals. As a child, the Prince of Aurum had been a constant troublemaker, a reigning terror for his own people. He was known for cheekiness and confidence, getting out of tough situations with his charms and good looks. 

“Jungkook.” You forced a smile, entering the throne room after being suddenly summoned in the middle of the night. “What are you doing here?” 

He pointed in the direction in front of him, and there was his parents, the King and Queen consort of Aurum on their respective thrones with your mother standing next to his mother.

Your jaw dropped, not expecting her to be standing in front of you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had seen her in person. The last few years, you’ve only been corresponding with letters to her. “What are you doing here?” 

“That’s no way to greet your mother.” She came forward to give you a quick hug and then returned back to her original position. “The Luxuria troops are getting stronger at the border.”

“And I’m sorry, how does this matter revolve around me and my country?” Jungkook asked. 

You rolled your eyes at Jungkook’s comment. As children, your personality always clashed with Jungkook. The two of you always tried to avoid each other at all costs.

Although you and Jungkook were raised together in the castle, experiencing the same exact royal lessons of courtesy, ballroom dancing and diplomacy, you never once could get along with Jungkook, turning everything with him into an argument or competition whether it was for academic endeavors or favoring the people of

the court.

“I took a risk coming here as Luxuria has barely allowed travel between our two countries,” she said. “I came here to finalize the alliance, that the two of you would wed.” 

Jungkook sighed. “It happened, didn’t it?” 

“What happened?” You asked, not understanding the context. “Hasn’t Jungkook been engaged with Princess Comet of Cometes since they were six?”

“The King legitimized his first-born and mistress’s son,” his mother explained.

Your heart dropped upon hearing the news. “She is no longer the Princess of Cometes?”

“I am afraid not, but good news, Jungkook, you have a new bride,” your mother announced. 

“This can’t be,” you insisted. “Surely, there’s someone else.” 

“My child, you will marry our son and make him the king of two countries, and then later put your claim on Luxuria once the queen dies. There, you two will have three countries,” the King said. 

But you never once wanted to rule Luxuria.  

“We have given you protection and will continue to do so for this alliance.” 

“But we cannot be wed,” Jungkook argued. 

“You will especially since you’ve scared all the other suitors away,” your mother said. 

You were fiercely known for your independence and stubbornness, always speaking your mind. Your honesty and independency allowed you to earn your title as the Ice Queen, but that was all because of Jungkook. 

Through the game of telephone and writing secretive notes around the castle, the whole castle knew how you rejected possibly the best suitor for love, Kim Namjoon. He would have given up his country for you, and everyone knew it. 

At the time you were thirteen, still lacking tact, you met with Namjoon in the library and told him that giving up his own country for someone was foolish and idiotic. And Jungkook, hiding behind the curtains of that room, ran with it, spreading the word that you broke Namjoon’s heart, needing more than him and his country as a power hungry queen. 

Kim Namjoon’s heart wasn’t the only one you broke. Prominent and wealthy families from neighboring realms had sent their sons to court you, yet their efforts left you unimpressed and unmoved. 

As the years went on, there were less and less potential suitors. No one wanted their son to marry someone who was an intimidating person, and no one especially wanted a queen that could not be controlled. 

“It’s time for this childhood rivalry of yours to end.” 

“Mother, you know he’s the reason why suitors are afraid of me.”

“Get over it,” Jungkook gritted through his teeth. 

“How dare he disrespect me as a queen?”

“He was thirteen.” Your mother groaned. “You will marry Jungkook for your people, for your country.” 

You stepped forward, distancing yourself away so no one could hear what you were about to say. “And you and I know he will not love me.”

As fortunate as your life was, there was still a burden to bear, a burden even heavier as a royal. You still sought for an union to secure your financial and political status in society. Despite being a queen and having almost everything you want, the one thing you want the most is the one thing you knew you couldn't have: love.

She sighed. “And we both know love does not matter for people like us.” 

“But did thou not love my father and he thee?” Despite his death, the story of your father and his legacy lives on, including his love story with your mother. 

“Indeed, we loved each other truly,” she said. “But stories like his and mine happen once in a lifetime. Perhaps, the promise of love and the future of reconciliation can come.” 

Taking a look over your shoulder. You see Jungkook smirking. “Well Ice Queen looks like we need each other after all.”

________

hello hello hello!

thank you for reading the prologue for this new series :) i am very excited! please let me know if you need more context or visuals of some things were confusing.

[lya-dustin]

The Dornish Princess

Aemond x fem! Dornish!reader

Cw: mentions of murder, false identity, theft

Tag list: @valeskafics @queen--kenobi

You arrive in King’s Landing as a poor survivor of a shipwreck. All your nice things and clothes and servants and knights gone when the Wyldes found you on their lands.

The only proof of your identity was a waterlogged scroll naming you Coryanne Nymerios Martell, Princess of Dorne.

You looked the part, tan skin, dark hair and the haunting purple eyes of your Dayne mother and the manner of a gentlewoman. By the time you arrived at Court, you had been given all a woman of your station needed and letters were sent home to your sister to tell her of your rescue and invitation to court.

No one knew why your dead handmaid looked so much like you until you quietly explained she was your bastard sister and companion. But you didn’t really cry for her, she was just a bastard after all.

The bastard of Qoren Martell and a dragonseed from Lys.

“My congratulations on your betrothal, may the gods bless you and your intended, your highness.” You say quietly when you encounter the Prince Regent avoid his three and ten year old betrothed.

Little Floris Baratheon had been picked because it would be a good three years until she was old enough to be bedded, a smart move to prevent Baratheon from having too much power over the Greens and keep one’s freedom for as long as one needs it.

You were in a similar boat, your hand merited more than a vassal lord so your sister decided to sell you to the Prince of Pentos because she refused to wed. You were Aliandra’s heir; you were older than Qyle and next in line to be Princess of Dorne, you were everything Floris Baratheon and the rest of the ladies in Westeros were not.

Now it was all a matter of seducing the infamous kinslayer beside you.

His mother distrusted you, a smart decision, no one should trust you. If anyone looked too closely, they’d see it was not snake scales you wore.

“I am engaged to a child, and you are engaged to a man older than my dead father.” He said bluntly and you agreed. Both matches were bad, especially if you were a romantic at heart. It seemed the prince despite his appearance and cold exterior was one.

It wouldn’t be difficult to convince him you love him, or to make him love you. Everyone you met had that misfortune of loving you and becoming blind to your true nature.

It wasn’t the shipwreck that killed your sister, you had held her under the water until she stopped thrashing and came up with the story you fed to Lady Wylde and her company.

Aemond believed himself to be the exception to the faults of men, but he was only a man even if he rode the largest dragon since Balerion.

“A betrothed is not a spouse; the Prince of Pentos is not the first of my suitors to propose and die before the negotiations begin in earnest, you know.” You admit, hinting at the tragic and sudden deaths of all the men ---young and old--- who courted you since you first bled.

You sampled some of them when you grew older, those who didn’t satisfy you usually had hanger-ons who did, and tradition dictated that no bride prices cannot be returned should the groom die before the wedding takes place.

You had amassed quite a fortune in Essos, that was where you were heading. To find more unsuspecting men after your sister was forced to toss you out of Dorne after you slipped up and was almost caught.

Perhaps you could stay here instead. All signs pointed to the Prince Regent becoming King before the first chill came south.

If Prince Aemond was as good with his cock as he was with his sword, he’d be worth staying in Westeros.

Queen Coryanne, now that had a better ring to it than Queen Floris.

“And Lady Floris is not the first of mine to seek greener pastures.” His lips quirk slightly in amusement. He was notorious for evading matchmaking mamas and their daughters, Borros Baratheon may think a war would prevent Prince Aemond from going back on his word, but he’d never played against you.

“Shall we put it to the test?” you ask in a whisper knowing little Floris will be shuffled off to the youngest boy like an old shirt before the sun even sets.

You like him, despite it all, you cannot help but like him.

You are betrothed now, a small feast thrown in your honor as the Baratheon contingent leave and wage war against the Vulture King to spite both the Greens and Dorne at the same time.

But House Targaryen does not care, they got the better deal in you.

Gifts of money and finery and jewels were given to you by your soon to be husband, his mother and the nobles currying favor with the woman who is queen in all but name.

Your dowry would be partially paid in gold and in men. While Dorne was far less backwards than the rest of Westeros and women held equal rights like men, and end to the hostility between the realms.

“We can wed as soon as your dowry comes, my love.” he says as you lounge in your bed after a particularly trying morning. Aegon was growing weaker, Helaena and Jaehaera doing so terribly they had to be taken to the motherhouse in Oldtown to heal away from prying eyes and the need for men and heirs was as important as breathing.

Letters from Dorne had come, mainly thanking your prince and his mother for their hospitality and the promise of sending a proper envoy to negotiate the wedding. You pray the envoy comes by land instead of sea.

Who knows, perhaps Dorne would join the six kingdoms without bloodshed.

But it won’t happen.

The moment the envoy comes, you are fucked.

He won’t want you if he knew the truth. Loathes bastards, killed one even if the little fucker had his blood. Worse, you made a fool of him as you rob them all blind as you plan your escape before Aliandra exposes you as the fraud you are.

What would he do to you when he knows you are Y/N Sand and not your dead sister, Coryanne?

“Why wait, my love?” you kiss him to show how much you care for him, how little it bothers you to see him without his eye as he fucks a bastard into you as he calls you by a name you spit like a curse.

And like the lovesick fool he’s become, the two of you elope in the night. Two strangers stand witness, and you give your real name as a jape as a drunken septon names you man and wife.

Aemond will hate you and hunt you down, you know this you spend your wedding night in his rooms and see how happy you’ve made him.

“I love you, Y/N.” he breathes out and your heart catches in your throat. The boy he was under it all didn’t deserve it, but you can’t have him and no matter how much you pray for the envoy to drown, you know your past will catch up to you.

You are gone when he wakes.

Nothing, not even the furniture, is left in your rooms, nor is there a speck of gold left in the royal treasury except a valid marriage certificate signed and dated with your true name.

He will hate you, but you’d rather he hate you than ever forget you.

Part ii

[animusicnerd]

Briar Valley Lore Dump!

Notes: This is in honor of Diasomnia chapter coming out. Most of the information my lore is from is from twst, disney, or general faery lore. This is for my Lilia story that I'm currently planning and this is honestly just for shits and giggles. This will change when I actually post the story but for now, it is an intro guide to all the world building that I did before Diasomnia chapter came out. I don’t mind getting questions since it will help flesh out this world a little more so don’t hesitate to message me about this!(This is also long btw so click at your own risk.)

The Draconia family is the second family to rule Briar Valley. It was once ran by a different fae family but the Draconias staged a successful coup d'état and gained the throne.

The Valley has been in two wars against the neighboring human kingdom due to humans wanting to expand their land for resource purposes. Both times Briar Valley has won and although the kingdoms used to have a friendly relationship with each other that is no longer the case.

The first war was caused by human greed for land and resources while the second also included revenge for what the faeries had done to them.

Many humans have immigrated into Briar Valley due to discrimination from their fellow humans. The Fair Folk of the Valley tend to stay away from them but most look down on them, but it was better than being hunted and being burned at the stakes. Little human towns are spread throughout the kingdom's lands.

Malleus's grandmother stepped down from the throne a little before the Second Human-Fae War started and his father was crowned king. After ten short years, he passed away and his mother came back to rule as queen regent in Malleus's place, who is technically the current King of Briar Valley.

The kingdom is most active at night as most of its residents are known to be nocturnal. The Briar Markets are busiest around this time and buyers often have to be careful when bargaining. The Fair Folk do not lie but their words can have double meanings so you might end up losing your first born child or buying a cursed item. Gold coins are accepted as well.

The kingdom is surrounded by forests and mountains so they are very rich in natural resources. Magic is also used in everyday life.

Not all villages are under Briar Valley but all pay a tithe for protection purposes, especially after humans arrived and desecrated their lands.

Maleficient was the one to overthrow the first ruling family and made peace with the first humans who hailed from the Queendom of Roses. Her daughter, Malleus's grandmother, was the one who went to war with them for disrespect to the lands and its residents after King Stefan went mad for more power.

Briar Castle as located at the highest peak of Briar Valley. With mountains acting as a natural barrier, leaving and entering the castle is near impossible without the use of some sort of flight magic. The Northern and Southern gates are the main ways to leave the castle but there are also hidden tunnels that lead down to the base of the mountain for the royal family, nobility, and any other residents in the castle. Secret passageways are also in the castle but are known to very few people.

While the Draconias may rule Briar Valley, there are seven noble families in Briar Valley in total that includes the Vanrouges, the Aldens, the Amaris, the Rannulfs, the Lavinias, and the Altairs. Each family specializes in something and all have pledged their loyalty to the Draconias when they first started to rule.

Courting rituals in the Valley often start with giving away a precious or sentimental item to each other and exchanging letters. Times are varied but most couples seem to exchange letters until the twenty-fifth moon where they meet in person (often times, it's not the first time they meet each other) and discuss their futures. Once again, timing and how these rituals go vary because of different cultures among the fae but most seem to start with exchanging an item of some sort.

Faeries tend to age at a slower rate than humans but most are fully-grown by the time they are a hundred years old. Unlike humans, faeries get stronger with age and they are also immortal. However, they are not un-killable and iron is one of the only things that can truly hurt them. Humans have used iron weapons against their wars with them. Knowing their true names will also have them in your control but that is usually the case with weaker faeries. Big names like the Draconias or the other noble families would not be affected by that as their magical prowess goes far beyond than just their names.

Fairy circles also tend to act as a teleportation tool. Although most faeries don't use it themselves, many humans or other beings that have stepped into one have reported having been teleported to the nearest fairy in the area. It's more of an annoyance to faeries and non-faeries alike but some of the Fair Folk do use it as a trap to make deals that are often in favor of them alone.

Faeries love music! Most often know how to play at least two instruments on top of knowing how to sing. Humans must be careful as the allure of their songs are very strong and they could end up dancing until someone either pulls them out or they die.

It is also good to note that you should be careful of what food you are being given as most of their food can put you in a deep trance and make you their servants or it can just kill you.

Fairies also tend to dislike humans as most of them do not like magic and tend to think of it as unnatural when it is very much natural in Twisted Wonderland. If a human has magic, they often offer teaching them how to wield their powers in exchange for something which could be your child or just some fresh honey.

If you noticed that a lot of deals involve children, it is because it is very hard for faeries to have their own. It is not impossible but it could take hundreds of years to produce one child to continue a family line and siblings are usually a hundred years apart. However, they often dislike being with someone that is not a faery as some considerate it a disgrace to their bloodlines or their lovers could die of old age, sickness, etc, while they continue to live on. They do make deals not involving children though.

Faeries do not lie because they can't. Most of their words and actions are carefully thought out to avoid being tricked by others and it is always best to think before you speak to any of them. You also have to be respectful and offending them could have grave consequences for you and your entire bloodline.

[farity]

Home to you

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x you

Summary:  Aemond comes home from battle

Warning:  just fluff

.

“Where is my wife?  My daughter?”

“Your Highness,” his wife’s maid said, running to keep up with Prince Aemond’s long strides.  “They did not go with the rest of the family.”

Aemond stopped, turned.  “Why not?”

“My lady your wife told Queen Alicent that she knew that you, as Prince Regent and commander of the armies, would be a target, and so would your own family.”  She took a deep breath and continued, “my lady said no one should know where for our safety and theirs, but that you would know for it was where the most precious jewel shows all its colors.”

Aemond knew at once.  “Thank you.”

The maid watched as the prince turned on his heel and rushed back out.  She hoped he would find them and bring them home safe and sound.

* * * * * 

“I’m tired, muña.”

You peeked through the tiniest opening in the window coverings.  From the outside it would look like a normal tear in the rough fabric, but from the inside, it gave you the perfect angle to watch the path leading to the small cabin.

Turning to your daughter, you smiled, trying your best to keep the reality of the battle from your expression.  When you had heard the drums of the enemy troops get louder and louder, Queen Alicent had decided the family was to leave, the injured King Aegon smuggled out in a cart, Queen Helaena and her children dressed as servants, their silver hair fully covered.  At the last moment you had told Alicent of your plan, and despite her concern at seeing you leave, she agreed that it was paramount to keep you and your daughter’s whereabouts secret.

“We will see each other again,” you said before you led the horse out the side gate.  Just in case, you had gone out the opposite gate from your actual destination, and went around the great keep until you were on the right path.  

You took the little girl in your arms, “shall I sing you a song or tell you a story, my love?”

“Tell me the story of how you and kepa met!”

Ah, her favorite story.

You took her past the partition that separated the living area from the sleeping area, and sat with her on the large chair next to the stack of blankets.

“Once upon a time, there was a young girl who loved to sing.  One day, she was playing with her cousins and some relatives arrived.  She immediately decided that one of them was the most interesting, but the next day there was a fight between the children and he had a terrible injury.”

The little girl covered her left eye and shook her head.

“He was very brave but he was in so much pain, so the girl would sing to him until he could go to sleep.  Then her parents took her home, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that boy.  Soon after, she received a letter from him, saying thank you for all the times she had sung to him.  She wrote him back, and then he wrote back-”

The little girl giggled, moving her hands from one side to the other.”

“That’s right, the letters went back and forth and back and forth, until one day they realized they loved each other.  They each asked their parents to let them get married, and when they were old enough . . . “

“They did!”

“Yes, they did.  And a year later, they had a beautiful girl and their little family was the most precious treasure in the world.  And one time, when the baby girl was sleeping, they realized that there was a rainbow that landed right on her crib, and it made her silver hair look like all the colors you can imagine.”

Your daughter yawned.  “Maybe we can find a rainbow soon,” she said, rubbing her eyes.  You held her close, and kissed her forehead.

"We will try tomorrow, my darling, but for now it is time to sleep.”

She snuggled against you, and you looked down at her sweet little nose, her long silver lashes, and wondered when you would see your husband again.

* * * * * 

Aemond dismounted from Vhagar, having landed in the clearing closest to the cabin, and walked through the barely visible path until he caught sight of the familiar structure.  

He remembered that day so clearly because it was like the Seven were bestowing their blessings on his family.  His sleeping daughter in her crib, his wife walking toward him, and she’d stopped and smiled.  “Look, Aemond.”

He took the hand she extended to him and looked into the crib.  Their daughter was sleeping curled up on her side, her silver hair down to her shoulders, and through the window, a rainbow had landed on her hair.  

He’d smiled and his wife had kissed him and then pulled him to the large bed.

Reaching the cabin, he decided to walk around first, making sure everything was as it should be.  He heard a loud crunching noise by one of the windows and looked down to find he had stepped on a cluster of walnut shells.  Smiling, he went back to the door and opened it slowly.

He stepped in quietly, and a moment later she peeked out from the sleeping area, a large dagger in her hand.

She sighed at the sight of him, placed the dagger high up on a shelf and rushed into his arms. “My love,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck.  He held her tight, the relief coursing through him, and he kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips.

“Is she sleeping?” he whispered.

“Yes,” he felt her smile against him.  “After I told her the story of how we met.  Again.”

“It’s my favorite story, too,” he said, pulling back to look at her.  “Let me change and maybe you can tell it to me, too.”

* * * * * 

You watched casually as Aemond changed clothes, not only to admire your husband’s long, lean form but to check for any injuries.  Aside from a couple of bruises, he seemed to be fine, and after making sure your daughter was warm enough for the night, you stretched out on the large bed and waited.

“We will head back tomorrow, send word to the family,” he said as he approached the bed.  He wore only soft sleep pants and your hands itched to touch the broad lines of his shoulders, feel the strength in his arms.  He laid down next to you and caressed your cheek.  “Tell me a story.”

“You must be in my arms, then,” you replied, and he moved to wrap himself around you, his head right under your chin, as you started to stroke his hair.

“Once upon a time, there was a young girl who loved to sing.  One day, she was playing with her cousins and some relatives arrived.  She immediately decided that one of them was the most interesting and intriguing of all, but the next day-”

"-his twat of a cousin ended up taking out his eye.”

You smiled.  “his twat of a cousin ended up taking out his eye.   He was very brave but he was in so much pain, so the girl would sing to him until he could go to sleep.”

“And he thought her voice was the purest sound he’d ever heard.”

“Then her parents took her home, but she couldn’t stop thinking about that boy.”

Aemond wrapped his arms tighter around you.  “And he began to dream of her, and couldn’t stop thinking about her, either.”

“And she missed him so much.  Soon after, she received a letter from him, saying thank you for all the times she had sung to him.  She wrote him back, and then he wrote back-”

“And he wanted to tell her he knew he loved her, but he thought she would never love him back and only felt pity for him.”

“Aemond.”

He looked up, “it’s true.”

“But the boy was wrong, as boys often are, for she already loved him and wanted nothing more than to be with him-”

“in bed.”

You reached down and covered his mouth, and felt him laugh in response.  “But as they were both so young, they knew they had to wait.”

He kissed your palm.  “But he knew, she was the only one for him.”  He looked up again and kissed your lips.  

“Kepa!”

Aemond sat up just in time for his daughter to jump onto him.  “Muña was telling you the story again?”

“Yes, my jewel.  Have you been good for muña?”

The little girl nodded, then looked at you for confirmation.  

“She has been wonderful.  But she needs to be sleeping right now.”

“Muña, can I sleep with you and kepa?  Please?”

You looked at Aemond, smiling, and he nodded.  “Come here, little dragon, let’s tuck you in.”  He pulled up the covers over you and your daughter, then placed a protective arm over both of you.  Soon she was sleeping peacefully between you, and you thought there was no better feeling than knowing your family was with you, safe and sound.

* * * * * 

@  girlwith-thepearlearring    @greenowlfactif  @hydrationqueensworld    @megzdoodle   @melsunshine  @queenofshinigamis     @throughgoeshamilton   @travelingmypassion    @watercolorskyy

@hb8301   @kaemond-zafiro    @arcielee

[yaeggravate]

Unraveling Princess Fischl

So I recently finished studying Princess Fischl in a lab and the results I got were kinda crazy.

As a disclaimer, I do this just for fun. I like connecting dots and solving puzzles. But I'd rather you draw your own conclusions. In this post I will try to dissect the mysteries surrounding the Prinzessin. And you really can't talk about Fischl without including Kaeya. I've even got a surprise guest star for you.

WARNING: this post is VERY long, click on that Read More at your own risk, otherwise you'll be stuck scrolling forever.

For simplicity's sake Princess Fischl will be referred to as Fischl while playable Fischl will be demoted to F.

PART 1: MIDSUMMMER NIGHT'S DREAM

Most of this will use the books Legend of the Shattered Halberd and Flowers for Princess Fischl as a source. These books are authored by someone named Mr. Nine. The books are published by Yae Publishing House. So keep in mind there's a non-zero percent chance Mr. Nine is actually just a certain Nine-Tailed Fox.

F's alternate outfit is called Immernachtstraum. This is a reference to Shakespeare's play Midsummer Night's Dream. In German the play is called Ein Sommernachtstraum. So you can see the similarities (Immernachtstraum means Eternal Night's Dream.)

Kaeya is in part based on the Indian changeling prince from the same play. The character Oberon, the Fairy King, is the french derivative of Alberich. The play itself is basically about people getting into Shenanigans so absurd it might as well be a dream. Oberon and his wife Titania are actually key players in quite a bit of different media… But as much as I want to delve into that, this isn't a Kaeya post.

Just remember for now that Titania is the Fairy Queen.

In the book Flowers for Princess Fischl, there is a mention of a Sommernachtgarten. It is described as a Domain possessed by someone highly skilled in the magical arts. Sommernachtgarten seems to have existed in Teyvat. The domain Midsummer Courtyard, which has the Thundering Fury set, tells us the Sommernachtgarten was buried underground.

The domain is located in Starfell Valley. It's nearby Starfell Lake and Starsnatch Cliff. Starfell Lake is said to have been formed by a fallen star.

Fischl is also equated to a star that fell down. Notably, in F's birthday letters, and in Legend of the Shattered Halberd.

Birthday Letter: Day of Destiny… On the day of a sacred star's descent from the depths of the night sky into this realm, I, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, have asked Oz to cross the ocean and bring, me exotic treasure.

LotSH Vol. 1 The story was that an iron meteorite had fallen from the sky five or six years ago, and convention dictated that as nature's treasure it belonged to the imperial family.

Starsnatch Cliff is the only place where Cecilia flowers grow. These flowers have a triquetra shape, which is similar to Kaeya's passive talent Glacial Heart. Kaeya has been featured with these flowers in his birthday arts, and even invites the Traveler to go see the flowers with him.

Alice: With enough bombs placed in proper positions, even huge cliffs like Starsnatch would crumble into dust in a second. With flatter terrain, Mondstadt would surely look much nicer. But that unctuous Cavalry Captain rejected my proposal instantly. He even asked me to stay away from Starsnatch Cliff.

Furthermore, when Alice proposed to blow Starsnatch Cliff up, Kaeya denied her request and warned her to never go near there again… Starsnatch Cliff also overlooks the Nameless Island which is shrouded in mist and invisible on the map.

菲谢尔 = Fischer = Fischl

Fischl's name might be a reference to the Fisher King from Arthurian legends. One name of the Fisher King is Amfortas. In the game Anfortas is the name of the Knight Marshal of the Schwanenritter; he's thee Alberich who stepped up as Regent King when Irmin was indisposed.

Perhaps Fischl was the original "Fisher King" and the kings who came after her, like Irmin and Anfortas, fulfilled her role. …But this would imply Fischl was once the ruler of Khaenri'ah. That would be crazy, right? Right, guys?

PART 2: THE PRINCESS OF JUDGEMENT

When I was analyzing the 8-pointed star, I discovered these 8 points could actually correspond to the Guardians of the Eight Directions in Hinduism.

For some reason, ascension gem stones are named after Hindu gods (with the exception of Electro). This isn't the case in the original Chinese naming however.

Still, I tried to mix and match the gemstones to a direction.

North: Kubera, The God of Fortune -> GEO

South: Yama, The God of Justice and Death -> ???

East: Indra, The Lord of Heaven and God of the Weather, Sky, Rain, and Storms -> ELECTRO

West: Varuna, God of the Seas, Oceans, and Rain -> HYDRO

Northeast: Ishana, God of Birth, Death, Resurrection, and Time -> DENDRO

Southeast: Agni, God of Fire -> PYRO

Northwest: Vayu, God of the Winds and Air -> ANEMO

Southwest: Nirṛta, God of Death, Sorrow, and Decay -> CRYO

Hydro (Varunada), Pyro (Agnidus) and Anemo (Vayuda) gems already have the same names as the Hindu gods so that was easy. The Electro gemstone Vajrada is named after a sword but it belongs to Indra, God of Weather, Rain and Storms.

That just left me with Cryo (Shivada), Geo (Prithiva) and Dendro (Nagadus). Ishana is the God of Birth, so I'll assign him Dendro. Kubera is the God of Fortune which is Geo because Mora.

Now Cryo is a bit puzzling, because it's named after Shiva, who in Java and Bali Hinduism is actually the direction in the center. Some crazy implications here for our buddy the Tsaritsa because Shiva is the God of Destruction within the Trimurti, a trinity of deities. The other two are Brahma, God of Creation and Vishnu, God of Preservation.

In Java Hinduism, Brahma and Vishnu would correspond to the directions Zenith (South) and Nadir (North). Whether this is hinting at something about the nature of the Tsaritsa is unclear. When you see Three Deities you think Moon Sisters, right? However, we can't rule out the possibility that Genshin decided to mix these deities up. Let's just spare ourselves the headache for now and forget about this. This is a Fischl analysis after all.

So instead, let's have a look at the Cryo gemstone's original name in Chinese. The stone is simply called Grieving Ice.

哀叙冰玉: Grieving Ice

Since Nirriti is the God of Sorrow, I decided to assign them Cryo. Now we are left with one deity, Yama: The God of Justice and Death. Well, it can't be Hydro, because we already assigned them to a God. So it has to be someone else.

Fischl's title is the Prinzessin der Verurteilung. Which translates into Princess of Judgement. According to Legend of the Shattered Halberd and F's voicelines, Fischl's role was to act as a judge.

More About Fischl: I To condemn the guilty, to sanctify the just, and to draw all castaway dreams into the embrace of the infinite Immernachtreich. This is the birthright of the Prinzessin der Verurteilung, and her burden. None may gainsay it.

What's interesting is that Fischl uses magical arrows to shoot down the "enemies of fate".

About Us: Shooting Down the World Beast Should this world, like a beast prowling in the night, covet your dreams, then I, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, shall fell it with my ensorcelled arrows of judgment!

Feelings About Ascension: Intro My magic arrow cries out my holy name as it streaks through the night, praying that the violet lightning of retribution shall strike the enemies of fate down from the skies!

On the 8-pointed star, there's an arrow pointing upwards. Kaeya, Clothar and Halfdan's stars on their outfits and even F herself have the arrow pointing downwards.

The achievement you get when you find this door is called "Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here". Which is a reference to the entrance to Hell in Dante's Inferno.

The Immernachtreich is described as a place where all things will eventually flow into. Immernachtreich literally translates into Eternal Night Realm…

Flowers for Princess Fischl: Phantasmagoria Every good, bright and noble thing must eventually fall to inexorable entropic destruction, and the final destination of the universe is the realm-in-waiting of the Prinzessin, Immernachtreich. This is the fate of all worlds, of the universe, and all who live in it.

In the Immernachtreich Apokalypse, Leon calls Fischl the Soteria.

Soteria means salvation, preservation. It's used as an epithet for Persephone and Hecate. Persephone was forcibly made Queen of the Underworld, and Hecate is also known as the Goddess of the Underworld and Witchcraft…

Look, I don't want to claim Fischl was the secret 8th Archon or anything, because lest we forget Khaenri'ah was a godless nation who would've been Fischl's enemies. But why then would Khaenri'ah have this giant star referencing the 8 deities as their emblem in the first place? Seems a bit counterintuitive. I don't have the answers for now, and perhaps the 8th "archon" was simply Irmin. Or maybe it's not even representing a god but an element or a direction.

Regarding Oz, he is a not so subtle reference to Odin/Irmin but is also a reference to the Wizard of Oz. In the first book, it was revealed this wizard was literally just some guy pretending to be powerful. Eventually Oz starts working as an advisor for the true ruler of Oz, Princess Ozma, who is the inspiration behind Fischl. We'll get back to that later.

This Oz's full name is Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig Isaac Norman Henkle Emmannuel Ambroise Diggs. OZ is actually short for Oscar Zoroaster. Zoroaster is referenced in Flowers for Princess Fischl.

In a distant causality, if the philosopher Zarathustra was not chosen, then the opera writer would have gained victory in the contest over the will of the world.

This does make you wonder if Irmin really was the true ruler of Khaenri'ah and if he even existed the way we believe he did. Perhaps Fischl got Irminsnapped and now everyone believes Irmin was always the One-Eyed King.

Of course this is all my personal speculation and I could be way off here.

Wait, before we move on to next section, I want to point out something that always gets ignored:

Kaeya and Mona, when they cast their bursts, summon the same 8-pointed star. This is unique to them alone. Could there be a connection between Khaenri'ah and witchcraft? Or is either Kaeya or Mona an outlier?

PART 3: HEXENZIRKEL

In the trailer Mage's Teaparty, there are eight witches shown. However, we only know the names of six witches, and there is a chair missing at the table.

There is a slideshow where the figures of the eight witches are shown, minus Andersdottir who is represented by the book The Boar Princess.

Observe the witch on the broom and the little witch. The design of the little witch is similar to the design of a famous fictional character who got pulled into another world: Dorothy Gale from The Wizard of Oz books.

Dorothy is illustrated as having twin tails and wearing a farm girl dress. Dorothy's character was influenced by the character Alice, from the Wonderland books.

Originally I assumed Alice Genshin might be based on book Alice. However, it's the Narzissenkreuz quest that's based on the Wonderland books and Mary-Ann who takes the role of Alice.

With that in mind, could Alice Genshin actually be more of a Dorothy inspired character instead?

Now, Dorothy had a very good friend, called Princess Ozma. Ozma seems to be the inspiration behind Fischl.

So who is Ozma? I only have the Wiki to go on because I'm not about to read 40 books, but by the sound of it, Ozma is the current ruler of the realm of Oz. She is the daughter of a human king and a Fairy Queen. Her mother Lurline was the one who created Oz and turned it into a Fairy country.

Ozma took it one step further and separated Oz entirely from the outer realms making it invisible to outsiders. Everyone who enters Oz never ages.

If you're an F main I'm sure you know by now Fischl created another universe and founded paradise.

Now I want you to take a look at the witches portrayed in these circles. There are two witches holding a sphere. In F's cutscene from the Summertime Odyssey event, she is also holding a sphere which contains the Immernachtreich which you can see in the header image of this post and below.

You might think a glowing sphere represents a crystal ball to scry in, but that poses a problem since known prophet Barbeloth is probably represented by the witch holding a waterdrop, which is Hydromancy. So the glowing sphere might not necessarily mean a prophetess.

As for the identity of the other witch with the globe, I believe this could be Alice, since she was the one who created the domain/dreamscape of the Veluriyam Mirage. It could also be Rhinedottir who is creating something in a flask.

So Orb = Domain/Realm/Creation

Furthermore F's specialty food is Die Heilige Sinfonie, which has a Magic Hexagram painted on top… (Die Heilige Sinfonie translates into The Holy Symphony.) As mentioned before, the Sommernachtgarten could only be created by someone with great magical powers…

Magic Circles is Ceremonial or Arcane Magic, and according to a note left by Master Ruggiero in Bravais' study, Arcane Arts originated from a pre-Remurian civilization.

So someone must have taught humans magic. Might sound obvious, but it begs the question of WHO?

PART 4: FREYJA

To answer this question we need to dip our toes into Norse mythology. As you know, Odin is Irmin.

There was a war between two groups of gods: the Aesir and the Vanir.

Eventually they had enough and decided to exchange hostages as a peace offering. The goddess Freyja, originally part of the Vanir, joined the Aesir which would be Odin's group. As a sacrificial priestess, she was the one who taught the Aesir dark magic, which included seeing into the future. The implication here then is that Odin was taught black magic by Freyja.

This magic is known as seiðr. Seiðr is derived from *soi-to- which means rope/string. The distaff, a tool used for spinning wool, is associated with dark magic. There are images of women riding distaffs as a broom, similar to a witch riding a broomstick. To quote the Wiki: "In any case, the string relates to the "threads of fate", that the Nornir spin, measure, and cut. " Wait, that sounds familiar:

F, joining the party voice line: The threads of your fate lie in my hands!

Scholars suspect Freyja is the same person as Gullveig who was involved in the Aesir-Vanir war. Gullveig was attacked by the Aesir with spears; she died and was reborn three times. When Fischl tried to visit the Kingdom of Eternal Twilight she was also attacked by its people and "shed her blood on the sacred emblem" whatever that means. It was Oz who saved her, pledging his loyalty to her.

Freyja sometimes is conflated with another goddess named Frigg. There has been much debate whether or not these two goddesses stem from the same deity. Frigg is part of the Aesir and usually Odin's wife.

I mention this because in the book Hex and Hound, one of the characters is named after Frigg: Nottfrigga. This book is about two twin witches sharing the same body. In the book we find out that they were the daughters of a powerful witch, but witches are unable to keep more than one offspring of the same generation. This led to Nottfrigga's twin sister Magdalene eventually dying, and her using magic to sustain her sister inside a magic bracelet.

In Norse mythology, Nott is the personification of night. Nott's father is named Narfi. This really got my attention, because Fischl's full name is Fischl von Luftschloss Narfidort. (Fischl of the Castle in the Sky Narfidort.)

In the Hexenzirkel teaser, every witch is represented by a teacup (or in the case of Andersdottir, an inkbottle) but the saucer next to Nicole's teacup is empty. Since this saucer belongs to the same teaset this could mean one of the missing witches is Nicole's twin sister or a relative.

So what could Fischl's role be in all this? Perhaps she's one of the twin sisters, or their mother. Perhaps she's even an ancestor. ...Or completely unrelated to them and I'm full of shit.

PART 5: THE HARBINGERS

F's theme shares a leitmotief with the Fatui Harbingers theme.

F's theme: Sieh an, mein Sommernachtgarten! Signora's theme: Saltatio Favillae

Obviously this means Fischl is Capitano.

Composers don't do these things by accident. This is hinting at something. Either Fischl is connected to the Harbingers, was/is one of the Harbingers, or she is indeed the Tsaritsa.

Which is not as crazy as it sounds.

In Legend of the Shattered Halberd, Fischl possessed someone else's body. And if she is Freyja's equivalent, who died three times, then it's possible she could've been reborn as someone else. In the book, it was Mir who summoned Fischl into Weiyang's body and sacrificed his eye to appease her. Pierro is working for the Tsaritsa and has his right eye covered for reasons unknown. Having been a royal mage who would have had access to Khaenri'ah's restricted library, perhaps it was Pierro who summoned Fischl into the Tsaritsa's body.

The Tsaritsa is collecting the seven Gnoses, Fischl had to collect seven of the nine Ominous Swords to repair the Divine Halberd, which would be herself. She already had two of them in her possession… Could also be that the Tsaritsa is trying to revive her. This would imply Fischl is the Third Descender. Since she came from another world, this is not impossible.

The Fisher King, Fischl's possible namesake, was struck with a wound that could only be healed by a "pure fool" who would ask him the right question. ...Fatui is Latin for fools. If the Tsaritsa really is/is possessed by Fischl, then creating an organization of fools starts to make sense: the fools are her saviors.

This could also connect to the empty 10th seat within the Harbingers. The vacant spot could be a reference to the Siege Perilous, which was an empty seat reserved for the one successful in obtaining the Holy Grail by way of saving the Fisher King.

Usually this is accomplished by Percival, who later finds out his mother is the sister of the Fisher King. In the story, Percival keeps failing to return to the kingdom of the Holy Grail since it is an otherworldly place. Does that not remind you of Kaeya trying to find Khaenri'ah but failing halfway through?

Going back to Princess Ozma, an evil witch cast a spell on her that turned her into a little boy named Tippetarius. This was done to prevent Ozma from ascending to the throne. Tip was unaware of his true identity until he was transformed back into Ozma.

tippet /tĭp′ĭt/ noun A covering for the shoulders, as of fur, with long ends that hang in front.

As noted in The Marvelous Land of Oz, Chapter 23, Tip has brown colored skin.

…Kaeya, blink twice if you need help.

As a staunch hater of things that don't make sense, I highly doubt this means Kaeya is Fischl; the game would never go there. Perhaps being "Fischl" is simply hinting towards the fact that he will become one of the Fisher Kings.

That would certainly explain this random hangout ending.

Now, here's where things get really crazy.

Remember Anfortas? The Knight Marshal of the Schwanenritter who took over as regent after Irmin became indisposed? At the time of writing, Anfortas's fate remains unknown.

As said before, Anfortas is the name of the Fisher King in Arthurian legends. Fischl's name might've been a nod to that.

But it gets weirder.

T.S. Eliot's poem The Waste Land combines Arthurian legends with the legend of the Fisher King. In it, he associates the Fisher King with the tarot card Three of Staves.

The Man with Three Staves (an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily, with the Fisher King himself.

…We have seen this symbol somewhere before. On the constellation wheel of the Fatui Harbingers. By process of elimination this constellation belongs to Il Capitano.

👏🏽👏🏽CONGRATULATIONS CAPITANO YOU ARE KAEYA'S NEXT TOP GRANDPA 🎉

Kidding of course, but I doubt this is a coincidence. This doesn't necessarily mean they are the same person, maybe Capitano simply mindmelded with Anfortas. It's a fantasy game, everything is possible at this point.

Wait a minute… three nails, three deaths… Uhhh maybe Fischl really did turn into Capitano.

👏🏽👏🏽CONGRATULATIONS CAPITANO YOU ARE PRINCESS DIANA'S NEXT REINCARNATION 👸🏼

PART 6: THE THIEF AND THE MAGE

Alright, for this section I want us to keep in mind the following things:

Fischl is a fallen star

Fischl may have been a mage

Fischl could be connected to Irmin and thus Khaenri'ah

The play of the Veluriyam Mirage is written by Zosimos. This play stars Kaeya as a Thief, Klee as a Mage and Idyia as a last minute heroine added to the story.

You see, Zosimos originally wanted to write a story based on rumors he'd heard about a thief and a mage. This means the play might not be entirely fictional. The problem is that Zosimos combined Idyia's backstory with the story of the Thief and the Mage, making it hard to tell which bits belong to Thief's story.

We know at least that Alice was the mage who helped Idyia. But what about the Mage who helped the Thief? Who was she? Could it have been Alice or someone else?

For that we need to consider the character Kaeya was playing. It's unknown who he is, but if Klee was playing her mom then it stands to reason Kaeya must've been playing someone connected to him. Before you get excited, this does not necessarily mean someone related to him by blood. Could also just be someone from Khaenri'ah. Heck, we don't even know the gender of the mage, for all we know they could've been a man.

Now, the soundtrack that plays during Kaeya's part is called Towers of Afrasiab. This name has come up before. In the play of Kaeya's hangout, the character he plays opposite of is called Frasiyav. The location of the Khaenri'ahn door is called Hangeh Afrasiyab.

I personally suspect Afrasiyab is either Irmin or the founder of Khaenri'ah.

Afrasiyab is a character from the Persian epic, the Shahnameh. Afrasiyab lived in an underground iron palace held up by hundreds of columns. (If you look at the architecture in Hangeh Afrasiyab, you'll see little reliefs of men holding up a ceiling above them.) Afrasiyab lacked the divine royal glory known as Khvarena and was obsessed with obtaining it. In the play they say Frasiyav lost because he lacked the blessing of god…

I mean it can't get any more obvious than that. So this could mean the dude from Kaeya's hangout was Irmin. Which does raise a bunch of questions, such as who is the identity of the Prince in this play? And why were they at war?

Should be noted in the hangout's play, Frasiyav offered hostages as a peace offering. Kind of reminds me of the war between the Aesir and Vanir… Also, Kaeya's character Prince Qubad is based on Siyavash who eventually married into Afrasiyab's family…

Towers of Afrasiyab then could refer to Khaenri'ah. In the Veluriyam play, the Thief is also from a dark realm. I hesitate making the assumption that this guy is Irmin or Kaeya's pirate grandpa so I will refer to him as simply the Thief.

In the play, the Thief witnesses a shooting star falling from the sky and follows it. However, what he finds is not a star but a young woman. Well, we know Fischl was also a star that fell down. And we know Fischl visited the Kingdom of Eternal Twilight and got bodied for her efforts. Oz took her under his wings and saved her life.

If the Thief encountered the Mage this way it would explain why the Mage helped him as a way to repay him. Perhaps the Mage taught him Arcane arts or helped him protect the "Dark Realm", who knows?

If this Mage really was Fischl and the Thief someone connected or related to Kaeya it would explain why Fischl and Kaeya seem to be connected.

About Kaeya F: His nature is obscure, his fate a mystery, and his speech a vexing tapestry woven of both fact and fiction… Perhaps he and I share the burden of mystical sight…

About Fischl  Kaeya: Hmm? You think Fischl having one eye covered is very fitting given her title of Prinzessin der Verurteilung. Hahaha, if that's the case, that must also make me a descendant of some kind of former royal lineage, no?

Furthermore, in Legend of the Shattered Halberd, Fischl's partner in crime, the man who summoned her, is named Mir. This is a reference to Mimir, the severed head from Norse mythology who acted as an advisor to Odin.

Mr. Nine states Fischl was attracted to Mir… and that Oz was more of a familiar of Fischl.

In Wagner's opera Der Ring des Nibelungen, Mimir is known as Mime, the brother of Alberich.

....😮‍💨

Well, I have to say, even after all of that, I am completely stumped. If anyone knows what's going on, let me know, because I for one would love to know WHAT'S GOING ON FOR ONCE. GIVE IT UP FOR KNOWING WHAT'S GOING ON

[nyrasproblm]

Two Princesses - Chapter Four: Reunions.

Word Count: 5,1K

Warning: Swearing, mention of injuries, arranged marriage, canon divergence.

130 A.C

Ariella sighed and rubbed one of her hands over her face, she could see Jacaerys shrug his shoulders in embarrassment and quickly looked at him with a comforting expression.

"Let's try, I'll repeat the sentence again, very slowly, and you tell me the translation, okay?" She looked at him, seeing him nod. "Se dāritys se zȳhon sisters sailed lēda iā rōva azantyr, Se pōnta landed rȳ se relgos hen Zōbriēdar torrent."

Jacaerys managed to repeat the first sentence, but got the second one wrong.

"In the Blackwater Torrent." he said proudly.

"At the mouth of the Blackwater Torrent." Rhaenyra's voice emerged from within the room, she had just descended the stairs that led to the painted table.

"At the mouth!" Jacaerys realized his mistake and rubbed his hands over his face.

"It's a complicated language, Jace, it took me a while to learn it too, don't worry." Ariella rubbed his back affectionately. Rhaenyra approached them rubbing her pregnant belly.

"But I'm going to be king, how can a king not know his own ancestral language?" he sighs.

"I haven't even been crowned yet, Jace, and after I am you'll have plenty of time to learn, unless you intend to dethrone your own mother." Rhaenyra jokes.

"I think the class is enough for today, thank you maester." Ariella addressed the man who bowed gently and withdrew, leaving the family with just one maid playing with Rhaenyra's youngest children on the floor.

Jacaerys soon approached his brothers and started talking to the little ones, then he, the children and the maid left the room, leaving Rhaenyra and Ariella alone.

The youngest approached Rhaenyra and placed a hand on her bulging belly. Rhaenyra placed her hand over hers.

"What do you think it will be?" she asked.

"I think it will be another boy, as always." Ariella said, earning a laugh from her older sister.

"I wanted a girl, a little princess, like us." she smiled and felt Ariella moving her hand away.

"Just like us, huh? I hope she's more graceful than us." the youngest joked as she walked away and approached the large fireplace.

"We are graceful. You are more than me." Rhaenyra approached her.

"Me? Don't be buffoonish, sister." she giggled.

"If it's a girl, I'll name her after the conqueror queen."

"Visenya?”

"Yes, Visenya. It's a great name." Rhaenyra finished speaking in time to see Daemon descend the stairs and approach them.

Ariella didn't turn to look at him but she saw from the corner of her eye that her uncle had a letter in his hands. He handed the letter to Rhaenyra, who read it quickly and sighed. The youngest noticed the atmosphere that was taking place in the room and turned to the couple.

"I'm going to say goodbye, sister, uncle." she said but before she could walk Rhaenyra's voice interrupted her.

"Stay. Look at this."

She handed the letter to her sister, who took it and read it quickly. Her cousin Baela was warning them that Lord Corlys' brother, Vaemond, wanted to claim the title of Lord of the Tides. Lord Corlys was seriously injured during one of his sails and it was unknown whether he would return to rule Driftmark.

"Questioning an already established heritage, he's bold, isn't he?" Ariella looked at the couple.

"Not only is he questioning Luke's heritage, in doing so he is questioning Jace's and mine by extension." Rhaenyra sighed.

"Will you appear in court?"

"We will, all of us. He can't question our succession like that."

"All of us? What do you mean by that? Dragonstone can't be without anyone to rule." Ariella glared at her.

"We have maesters and advisors for this, this matter is urgent." Rhaenyra spoke firmly.

"I am not going. You and Daemon can resolve this issue, I give you all my emotional support." she smiled weakly before starting to walk towards the stairs to leave the room.

"By order of your princess regent you go and this is no longer discussed, Ariella." she heard Rhaenyra's voice trembling a little.

Ariella stopped in place and turned to face her, Daemon remained looking at the fire.

"By order of the princess regent?" she asked.

"I have no other option if you refuse to support your family." Rhaenyra began rubbing her belly again.

Ariella turned and left the room.

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

They arrived in King's Landing two days later, in just one carriage. Rhaenyra, Ariella, two maids, Rhaena and Rhaenyra's young children were the only ones to go overland.

They exited the carriage after Rhaenyra was announced, only to see an empty courtyard save for the knight who announced them. Ariella looked up and saw large seven-pointed stars adorning the Keep. She scoffed softly.

Entering the large Keep, the children separated from them and Daemon joined them. The trio continued walking through the large building, only to continue seeing the seven-pointed stars everywhere.

"I'd say it's good to be home, but I can barely recognize this place." Rhaenyra spoke.

They walked and entered the royal chambers, seeing even more stars there. Rhaenyra looked around before looking at Ariella with a look that the younger girl matched.

Ariella was the first to walk to the king's bed, seeing almost all the curtains around her closed.

"Who's there?" his weakened voice spoke.

"It's me, my king, Ariella. Rhaenyra and Daemon are with me." she responded, sitting on the side of the bed, holding one of his hands.

"Rhaenyra..." the king began to mutter baselessly.

The younger girl turned to look at her sister and stood up, making room for Rhaenyra to take her place.

"I'm here, father." Rhaenyra spoke softly. "Rhaenyra."

"Rhaenyra... my only daughter." he spoke hoarsely.

Ariella felt a shiver run down her neck and swallowed hard, seeing Daemon and Rhaenyra's eyes turn to her. She ran her hands up the skirt of her dress and lowered her face.

Rhaenyra and Daemon talked with him for a while, then Rhaenyra introduced the youngest children she had with Daemon to the king. Ariella had retreated to one of the corner chairs and remained sitting there throughout the conversation, messing with the fabric of the dress's skirts.

They remained in the room, but away from the bed of the king, who had drunk another dose of milk of poppy for the pain. Ariella and Rhaenyra remained standing, with the youngest looking at the miniature citizens that her father had made in the middle of the room.

The door suddenly opened and the Queen entered.

"Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon." she said looking at the couple, only then did she turn to Ariella, looking directly at the scar on the youngest's forearm. "Princess Ariella. How long have we not enjoyed your presence."

Ariella held her hands together, hiding the scar, before Rhaenyra responded to Alicent.

"Indeed, Your Grace."

"But it seems we weren't worthy of a proper welcome as no one came to welcome us." Daemon spoke.

"We shouldn't complain, I'm sure the queen was very busy. What do you or I know about ruling a kingdom, my love?" Rhaenyra replied with a hint of cynicism in her voice.

"I don't rule, as you well know. My father and I only administer the king's wishes." the queen replied coldly.

"And how does my brother express these desires, exactly? Blinking his eyes tremblingly?" the rogue prince replied scornfully.

"The king suffers a lot from pain, on the advice of the maesters-" Alicent tried to respond.

"Ah, the maitres, are they the ones who give my father so much poppy milk? I doubt he can remember his name now." Rhaenyra spat.

"If you saw him without the milk, you would understand." the queen replied.

"Tell me, Alicent, were it also the maesters who ordered all Targaryen crests to be removed and replaced with the stars of your gods?" Daemon asked.

"The stars serve to guide us along an uncertain path in accordance with the superior deities." Alicent replied coldly.

"And what higher authority will judge my son's right to inheritance tomorrow?" Rhaenyra asked.

"It will be me, and my father, the Hand. But don't worry, my father is fair and will advise me to forget all the insults you have hurled into this room today." she replied.

Ariella remained silent throughout the discussion. It was like a big dog fight, she had no space there.

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

For the remainder of the day she decided to remain in the chambers assigned to her. After having dinner alone, Ariella was sitting in one of the chairs in the room while one of the maids was combing her hair, when a knock sounded on the door. One of the guards entered the room and the princess looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"The queen, princess." he spoke quickly.

Ariella frowned but allowed Alicent to enter, dismissing the maid and the guard. Just like her, the queen was already wearing her night clothes and a large robe on top.

She rose to bow to Alicent, who dismissed the act with her hands.

"You know that's not necessary, stepdaughter." she smiled weakly.

"I'm wondering why I have the honor of welcoming the queen into my chambers." Ariella spoke as she sat down again, facing the fireplace.

"I was worried, I admit." Alicent began.

Ariella couldn't help but scoff softly.

"And what is the reason for your concern, Your Grace?"

"You hadn't said anything since you arrived in King's Landing, at least not in front of me. And you didn't have dinner with the rest of the family either, I was hoping you would show up." the queen walked to the empty chair next to the princess.

"I prefer to be alone during my meals, your majesty." the girl replied without looking at her.

"Couldn't you make an exception for your family during your stay in King's Landing?" Alicent smiled a little at her.

Ariella looked at her with a playful expression.

"Are you serious now?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I didn't understand your question, my dear." Alicent straightened in her chair.

"Do I look like a jester to you, Queen? Do you look at me and want to laugh and mock?" the youngest asked firmly.

"Stepdaughter, I don't understand-"

"You persecute my sister since you two stopped being friends, you persecute my nephews since they were born. You corrupt your children's minds by telling them that my nephews should be mocked." Ariella paused and looked at her left forearm. "You mutilated me in an attempt to mutilate my nephew, a child."

"Ariella..."

"I thought you were my friend, but all you wanted was to poison my mind against my sister, my only sister." the youngest girl got up from her chair.

"Your only sister? Tell me then, are not my children your brothers equally? Isn't Helaena your sister?" the queen asked, also getting up.

"I know very well what you and your children think about bastardy, Alicent. You have already made your opinions very clear."

"You were the only friend I had after I became queen. No one else wanted to come close to me but you were there, by my side." Alicent approached her. "Come home, I still need you by my side, your brothers notice your absence."

"My home is Dragonstone with my family." Ariella replied coldly.

"And aren't we your family too? Aren’t your father, your half-brothers and I your family?”

"Your court is not my family, I don't like receiving looks of disgust and pity every time I decide to leave my quarters." the youngest walked away to sit on the bed.

Alicent sighed and ran her hands over her face.

"So I hope we can spend some time together during your stay here at least?” the queen asked.

"If the queen so wishes."

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

The next morning, as her maid helped her get ready, Ariella intended to break her fast wit Rhaenyra and the rest of her family, but was informed that the queen wanted her presence during her own breakfast.

She sighed as she entered the large dining room, seeing Alicent, her children, and the Hand sitting at the table. She swallowed hard.

"Your grace."

She glanced at her half-siblings, seeing Helaena distracted by a wooden toy, Aegon with his head in his hands and Aemond, who was staring at her with his one eye.

Alicent got up to hug her, Ariella tensed when she felt her stepmother's arms around her.

"Come, dear, sit down." the queen said.

Ariella sat on Alicent's left side, facing her brothers. Otto was sitting on the queen's right side.

The servants served her and she thanked them with a smile, she began to eat in silence but stopped the fork on her way to her mouth when she heard Aegon's voice, very different from when she remembered.

"Elder sister, I'm surprised by your presence here." he spoke scornfully.

"I wouldn't deny an invitation from the queen." Ariella replied and went back to eating.

"No, I don't think so." he replied, leaning back in his chair and drinking a glass of wine.

Her younger brothers had changed during her years at Dragonstone. Aegon had grown but was shorter than Aemond by a few inches, his hair was chin length and he smelled of wine. Helaena remained the same princess as always, with the top half of her hair braided and the rest loose, her angelic face and the same mysterious features as always. Ariella learned through letters that she and Aegon had married and had a set of twins.

She hadn't had the chance to meet her nephews yet, but she already knew their names, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Ariella also learned about their youngest son, Maelor, who was a few years younger than his brothers.

She then looked away to Aemond, who was fiddling with his fork absently. He had grown a lot, he was taller than Aegon, his hair was a little below his shoulders and he kept it tied up, on the left side of his face he had a large scar, which he covered with a black eye patch.

Ariella didn't spend much time looking at her brothers and went back to eating, stopping again when Alicent started to speak.

"Helaena, you could introduce your children to your sister later, right? I'm sure Ariella will be delighted with her nephews."

She received silence in return. Helaena continued playing with the small wooden toy.

"Helaena." the queen called.

"It's okay, you can introduce me to the children yourself, Your Majesty, if that's not a bother." Ariella turned her sister's attention to herself.

"That's a great suggestion, dear." Alicent replied.

She heard a buzzing noise coming from Aemond and turned to look at him.

"We haven't seen each other for so many years, sister. Tell me, are you still without a dragon?" he asked.

She felt Alicent tense up beside her.

"Aemond, this is not a matter that concerns-" the queen spoke.

"Yes, I still don't have a dragon. It would take a lot of effort ride one, anyway." Ariella replied, looking at her younger half-brother.

"Maybe you don't have enough." he replied.

"What?" she asked

"Maybe the amount of Dragon blood in your veins isn't enough to connect with a dragon, sister." he spoke, staring.

Otto coughed and Aegon let out a mocking laugh.

"I could say the same about you, brother. The Hightowers aren't Valyrian, are they?" She turned to face Alicent and Otto.

"No, they're not, princess." Otto answered her.

"Well, then it seems to me that that's not the problem, brother. I just don't feel like riding one, but I could. Our father hasn’t ridden since he was young either.” Ariella looked at Aemond again.

"You're absolutely right, sister. You and him are much alike, I see." he replied.

Ariella went back to eating and remained silent until the end of the meal.

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

Alicent took Ariella to Helaena's children, the princess spent some time with them and loved the little ones, Helaena remained doing embroidery in the same room. After a while they walked to the Iron Throne hall, where the petitions would be heard.

She walked with them but separated to stand beside Rhaenyra and Daemon. She approached and linked her arm with Jacaerys, seeing her nephew smile at her.

"Where were you, aunt? He didn’t break his fast with us.”

"The queen called me to break the fast with her and her children, oh, I met Helaena's children, they are very cute, you need to see them." she said excitedly.

Jacaerys's expression soured when the queen and her children were mentioned, but he disguised it, he put his hand on his aunt's hand, who was holding his arm.

Ariella looked across the room and saw the Velaryons, including Rhaenys and Baela. She smiled at them and was reciprocated.

The petitions began and with each disguised insult Vaemond threw, Jacaerys tensed beside her. Then it was Rhaenyra's turn to speak on behalf, Lucerys, who had approached Ariella and was holding her left hand.

"If I must grace this farce with any statement, I must remind you that nearly twenty years ago in this very hall-" Rhaenyra's speech was cut off as the great doors opened.

Everyone turned to look and Ariella gasped, her father, King Viserys, was standing leaning on his cane at the entrance to the hall.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, Two Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm." one of the guards announced.

Rhaenyra moved to the side again, Ariella moving closer to whisper in her ear.

"What is he doing here?"

"I asked for help." the crown princess spoke in a low tone.

The king began to walk limping towards the throne, as he passed towards his daughters, he stopped and faced Rhaenyra, then directed his gaze to Ariella, who swallowed hard as she looked at him.

The king started walking again but stopped again, due to the pain. Rhaenyra turned to whisper to her younger sister.

"I reminded him yesterday."

"Remember what?"

"You. I reminded him of you."

The king continued limping towards the throne but stopped to speak to Otto Hightower, his Hand.

"I will sit on my throne today."

"Your Grace." the Hand replied.

The King sat on the throne, threw himself down, in fact, and began to speak in a weak, hoarse voice.

"I hate to admit my confusion, I don't understand why petitions are being heard about an already established succession." he stopped. "The only person who can give us clearer insight into Lord Corlys' wishes is Princess Rhaenys."

The aforementioned princess stood in front, in the middle of the room and began to speak.

"Indeed, Your Grace. Lord Corlys' decision has not changed, nor has my support for him. I have been informed by Princess Rhaenyra of her desire to marry Jacaerys and Lucerys to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal with which I enthusiastically agree."

Ariella smiled at her nephews, happy that they were marrying girls they liked.

"Great then, this question is closed. I once again reaffirm Lucerys Velaryon as the successor to Lord Corlys, the next Lord of the Tides. I also reaffirm Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen as heir to the Iron Throne and her son, Jacaerys, as her successor." the king spoke.

Princess Rhaenys stepped away again to hold Baela's hand. Vaemond Velaryon stood in the middle of the room and began to speak loudly.

"This is ridiculous! You break laws and centuries of tradition to name your daughter heir, and now you want to tell me how things will work in my House?" he started. "My house has survived the Doom and other tribulations for centuries, you will not tell me how to rule my house!"

Viserys leaned forward before speaking.

"What you just said is treason, Lord Vaemond."

"These are not real Velaryon." He pointed towards the boys, they shook Ariella's hands tightly. "I could cut my arm and show the blood and they still wouldn't understand."

The king sighed and Vaemond continued with the accusations.

"Her children are bastards!" he looked in their direction. "And she is a whore."

"Your tongue will be cut out for this." Viserys took the dagger from his belt.

Everyone was startled when Daemon drew Dark Sister and severed the top half of Vaemond's head, leaving the tongue intact.

"He can keep his tongue." he said.

"Disarm him!" Otto shouted.

"It is not necessary." he sheathed his sword again.

Ariella looked at the mutilated body on the floor and looked away. King Viserys collapsed on the throne and began to moan in pain, Alicent ran towards him and begged him to take something for the pain.

"I don’t want to… cloud my thoughts.”

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

King Viserys ordered that a dinner be organized and the entire family must attend. Ariella was getting out of the shower when one of the maids appeared in her room, she was carrying a dress. A green dress.

"The queen has requested that you wear this dress during dinner, princess." the maid said.

Ariella thanked her and the maid left. She approached the dress and sighed, then turned to her own maid.

"Set aside one of my dresses and keep this one.”

"But the queen..."

"Do as I ask, please.”

The maid obeyed and Ariella wore one of her already owned dresses: black with details in gold and red.

She walked to the large banquet hall and entered, seeing almost her entire family there, with the exception of her father.

She glanced around the table and saw that the only available seat was next to Aemond, who sat at the head of the table, the chair next to him empty.

She sighed and walked over, sitting down in silence. When Alicent laid eyes on her her face closed momentarily.

"You are very pretty. Didn't you want to wear the dress I gave you?"

"I appreciate your generosity, Your Grace. The dress is too much for a family dinner, I will wear it another time." she smiled.

Alicent smiled quickly and turned her attention to her children.

Ariella poured herself some wine and began to drink slowly, looking around the table again. Otto was sitting next to her, with Alicent at his side, the seat next to Alicent was empty, for the king. Rhaenyra and Daemon were sitting after the empty seat, Rhaena and Lucerys were sitting at the other end of the table. Baela and Jacaerys sat facing Rhaenyra and Daemon. Aegon sitting next to Jacaerys with Helaena next to him.

She continued drinking the wine when Aemond began speaking to her, in a low tone.

"You look like a Targaryen princess now, sister."

"It's because I am one." she replied without looking at him.

Aemond let out a low laugh and drank wine from his glass before speaking again.

"You weren't this bold when I was a child, sister. After you became a widow, you became bitter?"

Ariella held her own glass tightly before answering.

"You became bitter after your eye was gouged out, didn't you? Everything changes."she looked at him.

Aemond tenses his jaw and she smiled gracefully, resting her hand on his forearm.

"I'm joking, little brother, you know."

Rhaenyra watched the interaction from afar, her lips pursed in disgust.

They didn't have time to say anything else as the King was announced and everyone stood up. Viserys was placed in the empty chair next to Alicent and everyone remained silent, sitting down again.

"It is a joy for this old man to see the whole family together. All these faces, the faces I love most in the whole world." He removes the gold mask that covered the right half of his face, showing the empty eyeball, as well as the right cheek that was devoid of flesh. "My own face no longer carries beauty, if I ever did. But I want you to see me tonight as I really am."

He looks around the table.

"Your husband, your uncle, your grandfather, your father." he looked at Ariella for a long time. "Settle your disputes and rejoice, if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly."

He collapsed into the chair again and Alicent helped him put the golden mask back on.

Dinner continued and the toasts began. Rhaenyra stood and raised her glass as well.

"I make a toast to the queen. I love my father and I must admit that no one has stood by him as loyally as his good wife. For that she has my thanks, and my apologies."

Alicent was silent for a while before responding.

"Your words move me, Rhaenyra. I raise a toast to Princess Rhaenyra, we are both mothers and we love our children. You'll make a fine queen."

The toasts continued and Ariella's nephews and brothers toasted each others mockingly but having fun. The table fell silent again as she stood up holding her own glass.

"I would like to raise a toast to my uncle Daemon." faces turned to him momentarily. "I thank my uncle Daemon for spending time with me and for teaching me about dragons even when I didn't want to claim one. And also for teaching me High Valyrian, I'm very grateful, thank you, uncle."

Daemon just shook his head and gave her a restrained smile.

Everyone started eating and talking excitedly, Ariella got into different topics with Aemond, talking about distant islands, dragons and other things. They stopped talking for a moment and Ariella began to eat in silence.

Viserys left the room after a while, with another bout of pain.

The bards and singers began to play lively music and Jacaerys asked his bride for permission to ask Helaena to dance. Ariella smiled when she saw the two dancing. She looked away when a roasted pig was placed in front of her and Aemond, but paid little attention, drinking more wine.

She saw Lucerys laughing mockingly at her uncle, Ariella frowned but then remembered. As children, Aegon joined with Rhaenyra's children to give a pig with wings made of dried leaves to Aemond, saying that it was his dragon, since Aemond did not yet have his own dragon and the others did.

Aemond stood up and banged his fists on the table, drawing attention to himself. The music stopped and Jace and Helaena stopped dancing.

"Final toast." he began, raising his cup, Aegon raising his own as well. "I toast my nephews, each of them intelligent, smart and strong."

Alicent tried to reach out to Aemond.

"Let's toast then, to these Strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again." Jacaerys spoke, approaching Aemond.

"Why? It's just a compliment, don't you think yourself strong-"

Aemond was interrupted when Jacaerys punched him in the face, Lucerys tried to get up to get to his brother but Aegon held him and hit his head on the table.

Aemond pushed Aegon to the ground and turned around laughing.

"It's enough! Release the boy now!" Otto shouted at Aegon, who released Lucerys.

Ariella stood up during the fight, alert, but didn't come any closer.

Jacaerys tried to advance on Aemond but Daemon didn't allow it, putting himself in front and calming the boy down.

Rhaenyra approached her children and Alicent approached Aemond, speaking to him in a low voice.

"Why do you have to say these things? In front of people?" She grabbed his arms.

"I'm just celebrating my family, mother."

He left the glass on the table and left. Daemon, his daughters, and Rhaenyra's sons withdrew as well.

Ariella swallowed hard and walked out of the hall when she saw Rhaenyra and Alicent approaching to talk.

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

She was still dressed up when one of the guards informed her that the king wanted to see her. Ariella sighed as she entered her father's dark chambers. She approached the bed to see him muttering to himself.

"My king."

He turned his head to look at her and Ariella saw the holes in her father's face up close.

"You requested my presence, Your Grace."

Viserys smiled weakly and held out his hand, which she took. She sat herself on the edge of the bed.

"My daughter, I owe you an apology..." he spoke in a weak voice.

"I understand that everything is the effect of the milk of poppy, father, you don't need to apologize." She bowed her face.

"No, no. A father should not forget a life he put into the world, even when he suffers from the greatest pain."

"It's okay, I told you, I'm serious." She bent to kiss his forehead.

"I'm proud... to be your father. You are brilliant and zealous." he said sighing. "I never gave you anything other than the title and you would deserve it more than anyone else. I never gave you land and property."

"I don't need any of that. I just need you, I just need you with me." She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Viserys let out a weak laugh that turned into a cough, Ariella's face became worried.

"Come on, you need to take something for the pain.”

"No, I want to talk to you. I don't know how much longer we have together." he spoke weakly.

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

"The gods were cruel to you, my daughter, I know that. Denying a woman the right to have her own children is an outrage even for deities." he began.

"The gods did what they thought was right, father. We must not crucify them."

"Do you have the desire to be someone's wife again?" he squeezed her hand lightly.

"Wife? Father, I am old and barren, will I not be suitable to be anyone's wife." she laughed bitterly.

"Old? I can still see you running around with the septas chasing you, trying to catch you."

She let out a laugh that warmed the old man's heart.

"You should get married again, a Targaryen princess without a husband is unusual."

"I can't, father. I can't give anyone children."

"Not all men need children to inherit, Ariella. This doesn't mean they are less important, sometimes they just need company in life." he told her.

"I think you're right, you're very wise. So who could I marry?"

"Your brother, Aemond."

Ariella froze for a moment, her eyes widening slightly.

"Sorry, I didn't understand." She said, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Aemond is my second son and he will inherit nothing so far, so it is only fitting that you marry him.”

"Father, I don't think you're thinking straight." She let out a nervous laugh and stood up.

"If an heir is needed, you must agree that he have a woman to bear them, but the lawful wife will remain you." he sighed.

"That's humiliating, you know, isn't it?" she tried to deflect the topic.

"My girl, give me this pride. I want to see you married again, and I want to see Aemond with an honorable wife like you."

Ariella swallowed and looked at her father.

"Okay, for you, father."

[alistonjdrake]

Do You Want To Read About Fictional Queer Historical Figures? A 20-Year Long Feud? Medieval Sex & Religious Drama? I'm Officially Opening A Woman of No Importance for feedback

If all those things sound like fun to you then you might want to take a peek at A Woman of No Importance! My "historical" spec fic written through the tired eyes of Cierra Dimmock, the findings of various historians, court documents, primary sources, wills, and letters.

Split into chunks of 25k words, there is no time limit here to read the draft or to even give me your feedback. This is purely for curious/interested parties who have been watching from afar as I write this story to finally be able to interact with it and the path I'm taking with it. You can find a summary below and shoot me a message if you'd like to read or join the hastily made discord for the wip and follow the link there.

The Early Ages were a fragile time for a country, and the long-gone kingdom of Vilsland had a fate no different from all the others. In trying to uncover the mystery of a lost country, one historian becomes captivated by the fates of two elusive figures. A Half-Year Queen and Ill-fated regent Princess Matilde and the solitary Duchess Cierra Dimmock, whose rivalry and hatred for one another is the only thing that still thrives centuries after their story is over. But one day, twenty years after the beginning of their feud, Princess Matilde relies on the pity and hospitality of her old enemy and spends the night in her house. What happens that night will change them both forever.

[scotianostra]

James V of Scotland was born on 10th April 1512.

James was son of King James IV and his queen Margaret Tudor, a daughter of Henry VII of England, and was the only legitimate child of James IV to survive infancy, it was through this line that Mary Queen of Scots based her claim to the throne of England, and indeed her son, who took the throne after Elizabeth died.

James was born at Linlithgow Palace and baptised on April 11th, receiving the titles Duke of Rothesay and Prince and Grand Steward of Scotland. He became king at just seventeen months old when his father was killed at the Battle of Flodden Field on 9th September 1513. James was “crowned” in the Chapel Royal at Stirling Castle on 21st September 1513.

During his childhood, like so many of the Stewart monarchs, the country was ruled by regents, first by his mother, until she remarried the following year, and then by John Stewart, 2nd Duke of Albany, who was next in line to the throne after James and his younger brother, the posthumously-born Alexander Stewart, Duke of Ross.

Other regents included Robert Maxwell, 5th Lord Maxwell, a member of the Council of Regency who was also bestowed as Regent of Arran. Queen Margaret´s tempestuous private life complicated her son´s childhood, and after she divorced her second husband, Archibald Douglas 6th Earl of Angus, the Earl kidnapped young James. For over two years he held him as a virtual prisoner, showering him with gifts and introducing him to a round of unsuitable pleasures. James loathed him and finally managed to escape in 1528 and assumed the reins of government himself.

James´ personal rule began by savagely pursuing his opponents and he hounded the Earl of Angus out of Scotland. James combined suspicion of nobles with a popular touch, travelling anonymously among Scottish people as the ´Gudeman o´Ballengeich´. John Knox described him thus: ´he was called of some, a good poor man´s king; of others he was termed a murderer of the nobility, and one that had decreed their whole destruction´.

A highly strung, intelligent man who alternated between black depression and bouts of feverish energy, James had already fathered at least nine illegitimate children by a series of mistresses by the time a marriage was arranged for him.

He married Madeleine, daughter of Francois I of France, and the young couple returned to Scotland in May 1537. The Princess was a fragile woman, and the Scottish climate did not agree with her she died in her husband’s arms on 7th July 1537, seven weeks after her arrival in Edinburgh.

In governing, James increased his income by tightening control over royal estates and from the profits of justice, customs and feudal rights. He also gave his illegitimate sons lucrative benefices, diverting substantial church wealth into his coffers. James spent a large amount of his wealth on building work at Stirling Castle, Falkland Palace, Linlithgow Palace and Holyrood and built up a collection of tapestries from those inherited from his father.

In 1538 he married another French lady, the widowed Mary of Guise, tall, well-built and already the mother of two sons. She had two more sons by James but they both died in infancy within hours of each other in 1541. The death of the Kings’ mother in 1541 removed any incentive for peace with England, and war broke out.

Initially the Scots won a victory at the Battle of Haddon Rig in August 1542. The Imperial ambassador in London, Eustace Chapuys, wrote on 2nd October that the Scottish ambassadors ruled out a conciliatory meeting between James and Henry VIII in England until the pregnant Mary of Guise delivered her child. Henry would not accept this condition and mobilised his army north.

James was with his army at Lauder on 31 October 1542. Although he hoped to invade England, his nobles were reluctant. He returned to Edinburgh on the way writing a letter in French to his wife from Falahill mentioning he had three days of illness.

Next month his army suffered a serious defeat at the Battle of Solway Moss, a loss caused by infighting within the nobles on who was in command.

He took ill shortly after this, on 6th December; by some accounts this was a nervous collapse caused by the defeat, although some historians consider that it may just have been an ordinary fever. Whatever the cause of his illness, he was on his deathbed at Falkland Palace when his only surviving legitimate child, a girl, was born.

Sir George Douglas of Pittendreich brought the news of the king´s death to Berwick. He said James died at midnight on Thursday 15 December; the king was talking but delirious and spoke no "wise words." Having said that, history reports he uttered the following; 'It cam' wi' a lass, and it will gang wi' a lass,' meaning that whilst the Stewarts came to power through marrying a princess, the Stewart line would end with his daughter as queen. Of course this wasn’t true so I wonder to myself at times why such importance seems to have been placed on his words through the centuries.

He was buried at Holyrood Abbey alongside his first wife Madeleine and his two sons. The tomb was probably destroyed during the Rough Wooing in 1544, they were again “violated” at the end of James VII reign when the people of Edinburgh rioted. Queen Victoria arranged for the vault to be repaired.

There was another story regarding the grave of James V that happened in 1683, read about that on the great web pages of Dr Mark Jardine here https://drmarkjardine.wordpress.com/.../the-tomb-of.../

[isfjmel-phleg]

Who is Rietta?

Today, May 1, is my OC Rietta's birthday.

Bio

Rietta Opelle Verina Philene Valencourt was not intended to be queen. She was born the first child of King Etriat and Queen Tietra of Faysmond and expected to be the elder sister of a male heir who surely was coming along soon. But Etriat unexpectedly died in a train crash, leaving the throne to his three-year-old daughter. The provisions of his will made Tietra her regent and appointed a Regency Council to support her. Unfortunately the Council and many other Faysmondians were hostile to Tietra, who had married Etriat as part of the terms of the resolution of a war against her homeland, and she in response retreated to a residence isolated in the countryside, where she could raise Rietta with a minimum of interference.

Rietta loves her mother and loves the castle where she has grown up, but by age fifteen, she feels stifled by the limitations of this existence and longs for a chance to rejoin a wider world. She wants to become a capable monarch, but disputes about her education have hindered the hiring of any definite instructor, and instead she runs wild on the castle grounds. That is where she meet and secretly befriends Rachel Doncath, a local girl of a background Highly Unsuitable to associate with the Queen. Rietta can't really afford to make mistakes at this point; her kingdom is financially struggling, and now that she's getting older, she needs to arrange the right match. And if her undesirable behavior goes too far, the Regency Council has an ultimatum for her: toe the line, or Tietra gets sent back to her homeland.

Rietta is caught between responsibilities and personal loyalties. Is it right for someone in her role to seek what she personally wants? What is her duty and what is the agenda of others who want to use her, and why are these so hard to tell apart sometimes?

Why I Love Her

Rietta is the first OC I created for the earliest version of this story, and she's been through a lot of versions, including some that were rather unkind to and dismissive of her. Not fair. She's high-energy and quick-tempered and easily distracted and impulsive, but she has intelligence and courage and strength. She once blew her entire allowance on lemon drops. She got kicked out of council meetings after she at a young age threw a heavy object at the Head of the Council for treating her mother badly. She knows that her future is a very important business arrangement and has been writing what basically amount to cover letters to various other monarchs, offering herself a prospective wife for any of their young sons. She makes friends quickly and easily and commits hard to any friendship once it starts. She's good at math and geography and has a lot of practical knowledge of plants. She cosplays as fairy tale characters so she can pose for photographs she makes Rachel take. Every year she visits her father's grave and plays a one-sided game of cards "with him." She is aggressively, insistently fond of the castle cat even though it clearly hates her. She's a lot, but that includes being a lot of fun, and I love the challenge of getting into the head of a character who is nothing like me. Flawed though she may be, she has an unapologetically big heart, and in some ways, she just might be the best-adjusted of my protagonists.

Description

Rietta, at nearly sixteen, now wore her hair up and her skirts floor-length. But no matter how skillfully she subdued those masses of black curls into their pompadour, several always sprung out of place, and the skirts always rustled a little from her habit of bouncing on the balls of her feet. Years of training in etiquette and a quiet manner could not hide that her very bones seemed spring-loaded. Her stateliest tread threatened to break into a gallop at any moment, and her laughs burst like thunderclaps from a long mouth that curled up at both ends when she smiled, which was often.

Further Info

There are lists of random OC facts for her here and here. These are somewhat old lists, created when I was still trying to more fully develop the character, and I might need to revisit/rethink them, but you get the idea.

Appearances

The Other Side of the Door (at age thirteen)

Horrid Old Beautiful Ruin (shortly before Book 1)

Over the Boundary Wall (shortly after Book 1 Chapter One)

Book 1 Chapter Two from Rietta's POV

Venturing In (later in Book 1)

The Boy with the Botanical Box (still later in Book 1)

Short dialogue between Rietta and Delclis (unspecified later date)

[cn-4amsleeper]

Did a sketch of an Alan Wake AU where Alan is the young prince who just ascended the throne, Zane is the leader of the Knights, and Scratch is the regent. And now my brain can’t stop.

In this country the throne isn’t passed to the oldest child it is assigned by the king. Alan was assigned because although being the second prince and the moderate one(like he’s good at writing letters and stuff but in terms of fighting and politics skills he’s not as good as his brothers), he has the heart to care for the people and knows he has his own flaws and that he needs other’s help(so he won’t become a dictator). Zane is the oldest son, romantic knight that dazzles at balls, famous on the battlefields for his unpredictable strategy that always leads to victory somehow. Scratch is the youngest and the most ambitious, known for being a brilliant political strategist, Scratch is not his real name, just an alias his enemies call him because of how ruthless he can be.

Are they jealous for Alan assigned? Zane was at first, but he soon left the idea behind and thought he didn’t want the responsibility anyway. Scratch however took it personally and has already made a plan to take the throne, but for some reason he hasn’t executed it yet).

Alice is the girl that isn’t part of any royal family but Alan would fight the entire country to marry. Takens are a group of rogues living at the country’s border. Saga and Casey are ambassadors from other countries visiting the country to deal with the Taken problems. Koskela brothers are well known merchants. Jesse is the queen of a much bigger country who is well-known for being the best knight in the continent.

THIS IS INSOMNIA SUPERPOWER.

[raayllum]

Chapter length: 10.5k Summary: Ezran's Summit meeting has a few hiccups. Both Janai and Karim reach decisions regarding their sibling. And Callum and Rayla navigate the aftermath of leaving Katolis. a/n: featuring Grark, Aanya's adoptive older brother, and I love him

CHAPTER 5: Heavy is the Head

Queen Aanya had long been a friend of Katolis.

King Harrow had delivered her mother’s ring to her regent personally when she was too young to do much more than blink at it, and cry in confusion as the days turned into weeks and her mothers still did not return. She’d attended her first ball in Katolis, and the king had always kindly inquired after her without making comments about how much she’d grown or how tall she was getting like all the other monarchs. He’d treated her like a child while simultaneously treating her like a queen, a delicate balance she’d appreciated and was sure he’d passed down onto his sons.

Admittedly, Aanya didn’t know Prince Callum that well considering she’d saved his life. He’d been energetic if overly eager on the way back to the Pentarchy with their armies, and then moody and flighty once the boys’... friend had disappeared. The rest of the Pentarchy had been told that the Moonshadow elf, Rayla, had gone off on a personal mission of sorts for the boys, but Aanya knew the truth was far more worrying, and that she was far more akin to missing.

Ezran had been bereaved, too, but in a different way. Still always able to look ahead, still always able to force some cheer, still always able to wear his crown and a smile and chip away at the other monarchs’ egos and reservations until he got what he was advocating for. Most of the time. 

Grark had encouraged her to make friends with him. “It might do you well,” her older brother said, dark hair falling over his eyes, “to have someone your own age around. He’s a monarch, too.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” she’d replied dryly, but much to Grark’s fond smugness, they had become friends—sending letters across their borders of daily matters and complaints rather solely diplomatic relations, weathering Neolandia and Del Bar’s ire together over their fallen forces, seeing one another a bright spot at otherwise stuffy or droll meetings and galas.

Read from the beginning here

[mihrunnisasultans]

"Mary’s relationship with her mother is key, and Katherine must be understood not as a weak, rejected wife but as a strong, highly accomplished, and defiant woman who withstood the attempts of her husband, Henry VIII, to browbeat her into submission and was determined to defend the legitimacy of her marriage and of her daughter’s birth. [...] Katherine of Aragon can be understood as a figure of immense courage from whom Mary could learn much. Katherine oversaw Mary’s early education and highly formative upbringing, which was not a prelude to inevitable failure but an apprenticeship for rule. Mary’s Spanish heritage informed her queenship but in a far more positive way than is popularly acknowledged."

- Anna Whitelock, Mary Tudor: Princess, Bastard, Queen

"In some ways, this letter resembles the “mirror of princesses” literature, most strikingly Anne de France’s 'Lessons for My Daughter', written around 1504. Like Anne, a French princess and regent for her brother King Charles VIII, Catherine makes a strong case for virtue, not only the specific feminine virtue of chastity but also the more general virtues of filial love and obedience, all of this tempered by a strong sense of ethical responsibility and reliance on trustworthy friends. Catherine’s expressions of maternal love are wrapped skillfully around carefully worded advice on how to handle the news. Her advice to Mary on how best to navigate dangerous political dynamics is also a brief summary of Tudor queenship written at a key moment in English history. As a political statement, in this brief lesson on Tudor queenship, she shares with Mary the contradictions and responsibilities of queenship. [...] Her signature also conveys love of the realm and care for the institution of queenship. She was protecting Mary as the princess who would be queen. She knew that a queen was expected to be a noble, beautiful, virtuous, and chaste protector of her family. These sentiments are familiar: duty and humility. These ideas on queenship in this letter are intertwined with those of kingship. [...] Catherine also was a realist with an unwavering conviction, based on the example of her mother, that Mary could rule legitimately in her own right."

- Theresa Earenfight, Catherine of Aragon: Infanta of Spain, Queen of England

Happy Birthday Magdalena! @latristereina

[rowanwriting]

— about;

hello, writeblr! my name is Rowan. I'm 32, bisexual, aro/acespec, nonbinary, transmasc (they/them), and an aspiring novelist. I'm also a part-time english undergrad and hopefully a future teacher.

I enjoy writing in quite a few genres, from contemporary romance to sci-fi to horror to fantasy, and I love trying new things in my work. my biggest challenge is actually finishing a wip, but I hope to get better at that with motivation from tumblr. I also enjoy dabbling in some fanfiction, especially when my original stories hit writer’s block. 

please feel free to join me on other social media, linked below. I look forward to getting to know more people in the writeblr community!

—links;

about // wip page // twitter // instagram // wattpad // archive of our own // gaming twitter // spotify // pinterest // nanowrimo

— works in progress;

lost in death —

Cassidy Sullivan is dead.

He's been dead for five years, watching his girlfriend move on without him. He's been dead for ten years, watching his parents mourn. He's been dead for thirty years, as the world changes around him and he remains the same, in the small apartment he died in. He's been dead for fifty years, and everyone has forgotten him.

Tristan Kent is a psychic.

More of a curse than a blessing, their so-called gift has ruined their life. Unable to go to school or work, they eke out a meager existence be exploiting their abilities from a small metaphysical shop. They don't believe in most of the things they sell, neither gods nor demons nor angels, but they know that something must be real, else they wouldn't be haunted.

When a regular client of Tristan’s volunteers them for a local ghost hunting reality show on the extremely haunted Wentworth Street House, Tristan takes the job only for the money. They have no interest in proving the supernatural to be real — they already know that it is. But the presence that haunts the house is like none they’ve ever sensed before, and their not sure what to make of that, save to find out more.

As the reality show commences, the ten so-called psychics come to exorcise the house. Tristan must discover who is genuine, who is faking it, and whether to help Cassidy resist expulsion. But there is more to the Wentworth Street House than even Cassidy knows, and soon he’s the only thing between Tristan and a sinister force that has remained hidden from his sight all these years.

the kraken —

Fifteen years ago, the love of Marisolle’s young life was discovered and brutally executed by her father, the Prince-Regent, for crimes against the Crown. Hardening her heart, the princess swore never to love again.

Now queen in her own right, married, and with children of her own, Marisolle is content, if not happy. She rules well and is beloved by her people, and her country is more prosperous than ever. But there are enemies on the horizon, and Marisolle soon must seek desperate help if her rule is to survive.

Theovold left his home almost ten years ago to join the queen of Mavacia in an arranged marriage. He loves his children, and adores his wife, even as he feels the deep chasm between them, the pain of a love lost. But his attempts at wooing her may come to a stop when Mavacia is attacked, and a new man comes into her life.

Vincenze is a pirate, nothing more and nothing less. When the Queen of Mavacia offers him a Letter of Marque, permission to sail under her name and banner, in return for his aid in the coming war, he knows that he cannot run from his past any longer.

And as Marisolle, Theovold, and Vincenze come together to face their enemies, the Sea Witch watches, pieces falling into place.

the beyond —

The year is 2284. Humanity has long ago risen to the stars, joining a galactic community of ascended species. No longer alone in the universe, the Helios Accord brought the countries of Earth together into one united government, The Sol Federation.

Emelyn Kane is a washed up soldier, a mercenary working solo. Born far from Earth, she spends most of her time on her ship, going from job to job and trying not to think about how she ended up disgraced and discharged from the human military.

When her ship crash lands on an uncharted planet, Emelyn believes her life, such as it is, has ended. But the planet is life bearing, inhabited by a sentient species. And the indigenous people, the Vescai, have strange abilities — abilities that have kept their massive empire hidden from the rest of the universe.

Even when she gets used to life on the beautiful planet she is now stranded on, Emelyn knows that she is the last person who should be seen as a vanguard of humanity, let alone an ambassador for the entire ascended galaxy.

As the Vescai debate her very appearance on one of their planets, Emelyn must decide if she wished to remain with them, or allow them to wipe her memory or send her home. But her choice might be taken out of her hands, as she soon begins to develop the very abilities the Vescai treasure.

the prince of stars —

A cursed prince must find and kill the fallen star that foretold his doom before his twentieth birthday.

Prince Riavyn is born under a falling star, cursing both him and the realm he is one day meant to rule. If he is ever crowned king, he will bring war and ruin to his country. At least, so long as the star lives. Now nearing his nineteenth birthday, Riavyn is more determined to be king than ever, despite being removed from the line of succession by his mother, the queen.

His only chance to regain his standing in the royal family and redeem himself is to seek out the living star, and kill it before nightfall on his twentieth birthday, when the astromancers say the curse will become everlasting.

Along with the captain of his guard, Riavyn sets out to hunt the star down, knowing that it’s his only chance to become king. But the curse is more powerful than he knows, and breaking it might have consequences he never imagined.

A star is not meant to die, after all.