#lira ruby

[linked-rails]

Pride Month Day 17 - Pansexual

RUBY!! Pride month is forcing me to design my characters... how dare,,

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt. 13)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Wife!reader

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part twelve part fourteen

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The grand dining hall of House Baenre was a feast for the senses, its dim yet radiant glow casting a rich tapestry of light and shadow across the cavernous space. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished blackstone walls, accentuating carvings of spiders spinning webs of power and intrigue. The dining table was a masterpiece of excess, heaped with a banquet of the Underdark's finest: tender rothé, glazed cave fish, and sugared fungi arranged alongside flasks of crimson wine poured into goblets adorned with amethyst spiders.

Tonight’s celebration was a rare reprieve, a moment of pride as the Baenre family gathered to honor Lira’s first kill—a rite of passage that carried with it the weight of both pride and consequence. Lira sat near the head of the table, her posture straight, her face carefully composed, but the faint tremor in her hands betrayed the thrill of achievement and the realization of what it meant. Her little ruby eyes burned with determination, a spark mirrored in her triplet siblings, Sarae and Viroen, who watched her with both admiration and a growing sense of rivalry.

The atmosphere was uncharacteristically light. Even Kyorlin, often reserved and aloof, had joined the festivities, his expression softened into a rare smile. Goblets were raised, and voices joined in a toast to Lira’s accomplishment, the sound reverberating through the hall like a hymn to ambition and survival.

Yet beneath the revelry, an unspoken truth lingered: Lira’s achievement painted a target on her back. In drow society, a first kill was more than a moment of triumph; it was a declaration of power, a signal that one had stepped onto the precarious path of political and familial ascension.

Lesaonar sat at the center of the table, his face a study in pride tempered by worry. He watched his children closely, particularly Sarae, who fiddled with her goblet, her lips twitching with the barely restrained urge to one-up her sister’s victory. When Lesaonar caught her gaze, his eyes softened, though his brow remained furrowed with a father’s quiet anxiety.

Kyorlin, seated beside him, leaned over to murmur something, his tone low and reassuring. Whatever he said seemed to ease Lesaonar’s tension, the faintest smile breaking through his guarded expression. It was a fleeting moment of familial solidarity, one that felt fragile but genuine.

The celebration held an air of inevitability. Sarae and Viroen, though outwardly congratulatory, were already measuring themselves against their sister. The rivalry between the triplets was palpable, but tonight, it was muted, their ambitions momentarily eclipsed by the unity of their house. This unity, however, would not last.

Days later, that fragile harmony shattered. The family was gathered again for the evening meal when Sarae limped into the hall, her movements stiff, her robes bloodied from a recent duel gone awry. Her head was bowed, and her crimson eyes glistened with humiliation as she took her place at the table.

The room fell silent, the once-celebratory atmosphere replaced by an oppressive weight. Melinoe, who oversaw the triplets’ training, fixed her daughter with a stern, unforgiving glare.

“A Baenre does not fail so miserably,” she declared, her voice sharp enough to cut through stone. “Especially not my daughter. I expected more from you, Sarae.”

Sarae flinched but said nothing, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. Lesaonar’s face tightened as he glanced at his wife, his jaw working silently. He remained quiet, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Melinoe’s critique grew sharper, her words dripping with disdain.

“You will be better,” she continued coldly, “or perhaps I’ve expected too much. A true Baenre would never—”

“Enough!” Lesaonar’s voice erupted, startling even the youngest at the table. His fists slammed onto the table, rattling the silverware. “She’s still a child. How can you expect perfection from her at every moment?”

The hall fell deathly quiet. All eyes turned to Lesaonar, his rare outburst hanging heavily in the air. Minthara, seated at the head of the table, turned her gaze to him, her crimson eyes narrowing.

“Remember your place, Lesaonar,” she said, her tone icy and controlled. The weight of her authority settled over him like a shroud, a reminder of the rigid matriarchy within House Baenre.

Lesaonar hesitated, his anger still simmering, but he relented, sinking back into his chair with a look of resignation. Minthara’s gaze swept over the room, her expression unreadable, before settling back on the meal before her.

The tension, however, did not dissipate. Melinoe, emboldened by Minthara’s rebuke, turned her scorn back to Sarae.

“Perhaps she has simply inherited her father’s weakness,” she said, her lips curling into a sneer. “One would hope she would be stronger than—”

“Enough, Melinoe.” Your voice, calm yet unyielding, cut through the rising storm. All eyes turned to you as you met Melinoe’s gaze with unwavering calm. “Is it not you who oversees their training?” you asked, your tone steady but pointed. “If Sarae falters, does it not reflect on the skill and wisdom of her teacher?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Melinoe’s expression twisted with outrage, but she was rendered momentarily speechless. Minthara’s gaze flickered between you and Melinoe, her face a mask of neutrality, though a spark of acknowledgment flashed in her eyes.

“You hold her to impossible standards,” you continued, your tone softening but remaining firm. “But if she stumbles, perhaps the fault lies not solely with her but with the one responsible for shaping her.”

Melinoe’s face flushed, her anger palpable, but she bit back her retort. For once, she had no words, her authority undermined by your own and the weight of your argument. Minthara finally spoke, her voice steady and authoritative.

“The expectations upon the Baenre children are high,” she said, her crimson eyes sweeping over the room. “We all bear responsibility for their success and their failures. There will be no more blame cast without it being shared.”

Her words reestablished a tenuous peace, the family settling into an uneasy quiet. Lesaonar’s shoulders relaxed, and he offered you a small, grateful nod. Melinoe, though seething, remained silent, her gaze fixed firmly on her plate. The triplets exchanged glances, their rivalry momentarily set aside as they absorbed the tension between their parents and the house’s matron.

The meal resumed, though the air remained heavy with unspoken tension. Forks scraped against plates, and goblets were refilled in silence, the once-celebratory atmosphere dampened by the earlier exchange. Lesaonar remained quiet, his focus seemingly on his plate, though his crimson eyes occasionally flickered toward Sarae with a mixture of concern and pride. Sarae sat stiffly, her head bowed as she poked at her food, while Viroen and Lira exchanged wary glances, uncertain of how to navigate the strained mood.

It was Kyorlin who finally broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the awkward stillness.

“I have received word from the barracks,” he began, his tone measured but tinged with cautious optimism. “The Seldarine threat might finally be ebbing. My old comrades say the extremists seem to be retreating. If it’s true, Menzoberranzan may finally see some reprieve.”

The statement hung in the air for a moment before anyone responded. Several gazes turned toward Minthara, whose expression remained impassive as she leaned back in her seat. Her eyes flicked to Kyorlin, and though she said nothing at first, the sharpness of her gaze spoke volumes.

“Reprieve?” Minthara’s voice carried a note of skepticism. She placed her goblet down with deliberate precision, the sound of the metal base meeting the table breaking the quiet. “If Eilistraee’s extremists have already joined their ranks, as we suspect, their retreat is nothing more than a feint. They won’t stop until we have every one of their heads severed on pikes and hearts served on silver plates."

Kyorlin tilted his head slightly, acknowledging her point. “Perhaps. But it’s possible their losses have weakened them enough to scatter. Not every enemy retreats with the intention of regrouping.”

Minthara’s gaze hardened. “And not every retreat is a sign of defeat. The Eilistraee worshippers don’t think like us. Their faith makes them reckless fools, but also dangerous. Until we are certain they’re eradicated, Menzoberranzan and this house, cannot afford to relax.”

Her words carried the weight of finality, and Kyorlin did not press the issue further. Around the table, the family listened in silence, each member considering the implications. Even Melinoe, who had spent much of the evening seething, seemed to pause it to nod subtly in agreement with Minthara’s assessment.

The meal concluded with little fanfare, the servants moving efficiently to clear the table as the Baenre family dispersed. Lira and Viroen left first, their hushed whispers trailing off as they exited. Lesaonar lingered a moment before gently guiding Sarae to her feet, offering her a quiet word of encouragement before the two departed. Kyorlin stood and bowed his head slightly toward Minthara, his departure marked by his usual quiet efficiency.

You, however, remained seated, your gaze fixed on Melinoe. She noticed your lingering presence and raised an eyebrow, her irritation from earlier still visible in the taut lines of her face.

“Melinoe,” you said softly, though your tone carried an undeniable authority. “A word. Alone.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded curtly, following you out of the dining hall and into an adjacent chamber. Minthara gave you a look but you murmured you would join her your chambers soon.

The room was small and dimly lit, its furnishings sparse—a stark contrast to the opulence of the hall. The quiet here was oppressive, the weight of what needed to be said hanging heavily in the air. Melinoe folded her arms across her chest, her ruby eyes narrowing as she regarded you.

“What is it?” she asked sharply, her tone defensive. “Come to reprimand me further?”

“No,” you replied evenly, meeting her gaze without flinching. “I came to speak plainly.”

Her expression faltered for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her posture remaining rigid. “Then speak.”

You took a step closer, your voice lowering. “I understand your frustrations, Melinoe. Your expectations for Sarae, for all of them, are high. And they should be. But tonight, your words went too far.”

She bristled, her lips parting to retort, but you raised a hand to stop her.

“I’m not here to argue,” you continued. “I’m here to remind you of something you seem to have forgotten. These are your children. Not soldiers. Not pawns. Children.”

Her crimson eyes flickered, a mixture of anger and something softer—something she worked hard to suppress.

“They’re Baenres,” she countered, her voice quieter now but still sharp. “They don’t have the luxury of being children. Not in this house. Not in this city.”

“And yet,” you said, your tone softening, “if you strip them of what little innocence they have left, what will they become? Weapons, perhaps. But weapons break, Melinoe. They shatter under the weight of what they’re forced to endure.”

She said nothing, her arms tightening around herself as she looked away. For a moment, the mask slipped, and you saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes.

“You are a brilliant tactician,” you said gently, stepping closer. “A formidable assassin. But you are also their mother. And they need you to be that, as much as they need your strength.”

Melinoe’s jaw tightened, but her gaze softened just slightly.

“You think I don’t care for them?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I don’t want them to succeed?”

“I know you care,” you said firmly. “But sometimes, in your pursuit of their success, you forget what it is they’re fighting for. They’re not just Baenres. They’re your children. And they need to know you believe in them, not just in their victories, but in their ability to rise after a fall.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not unbearable. Finally, Melinoe sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

“You speak as if you know better,” she said, though there was no venom in her words. “But perhaps… there’s truth in what you say.”

You nodded, offering her a small, genuine smile. “It’s not about knowing better. It’s about seeing what we often overlook. That is what keeps us alive.”

She glanced away, her expression thoughtful, and for the first time that evening, the walls she’d built around herself seemed to crack. Though she said nothing further, her silence spoke of a reluctant understanding. As you left the room, you couldn’t help but hope that tonight’s events had planted a seed—one that might, in time, bear fruit.

The long corridors of House Baenre were bathed in the dim, eerie glow of faerzress, their twisting paths quiet save for the soft click of your boots against the stone floor. One hand rested instinctively on your swollen belly, a protective gesture you scarcely noticed anymore. The baby within you shifted, their tiny movements stirring a warmth in your chest that momentarily eased the tension of the evening’s events. As you made your way toward your chambers, a particularly strong kick startled you, drawing a soft chuckle.

“Already restless, are you?” you murmured to yourself, your tone affectionate as you breathed through the sharp pang of pain, that had recently come with a bought of dizziness and a complete, albeit temporary cut off from your magic. As if the babe was taking it all for itself for a brief moment.

A faint sound from the shadows made you pause, your keen ears picking up the light tread of approaching footsteps. Turning your head slightly, continuing your breathing, you saw Kyorlin emerge from the shadows, his crimson eyes catching the faint light. His expression was unusually hesitant, a contrast to his usual composed demeanor.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low but genuine. His gaze flickered briefly to your midsection before returning to your face, concern etched faintly in his features.

You smiled, the world coming back into focuse and the warmth of his concern a welcome respite after the tension of the meal.

“I’m fine, Kyorlin. Just tired,” you replied. Your hand drifted to your belly again as another small kick rippled beneath your palm, but this time you felt your magic return to you. “They’ve been particularly active tonight.”

Kyorlin’s eyes lingered on your bump, his usual stoicism faltering for a moment as curiosity—and something else, something unspoken—flashed across his face.

“Active?” he echoed, his voice tinged with a hint of bewilderment.

You hesitated for a moment before gesturing toward him with a small, encouraging smile. “Do you want to feel?”

His crimson eyes widened slightly, and he stiffened, clearly caught off guard by the offer.

“I—” he began, glancing away as if searching for an excuse to decline. But something in your expression, perhaps the gentle patience you extended toward him, made him pause. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “If… you don’t mind.”

You guided his hand to your belly, placing it carefully where the baby had been kicking. For a moment, nothing happened, and Kyorlin’s unease was almost palpable. Then, a tiny movement stirred beneath his palm—a faint but unmistakable sign of life.

His breath hitched ever so slightly, his crimson eyes widening as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d felt.

“It’s… strange,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was fleeting. Almost as quickly as he’d placed his hand, he withdrew it, his expression shifting back to something more reserved.

You laughed softly, brushing off his abrupt retreat as mere awkwardness.

“Strange, perhaps, but miraculous too,” you said warmly. “Thank you for humoring me.”

Kyorlin gave a small nod, his gaze flickering toward the ground for a moment before he straightened. His demeanor shifted slightly, becoming more purposeful.

“I wanted to speak with you about something,” he began, his tone carefully measured. “It’s about the guards.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What about them?”

He hesitated, his gaze flicking to the corridor as if to ensure no one else was listening.

“Minthara has them working endlessly. The soldiers, too. Drills, patrols, constant vigilance—it’s wearing them down.” His voice grew quieter, a rare hint of vulnerability seeping through. “I’ve seen it in their eyes. They won’t say anything, of course. They’re too disciplined for that. But it’s hard to watch them pushed to their limits.”

You listened intently, his words stirring a pang of sympathy. Kyorlin had always been closer to the rank-and-file than most within the noble circles, his years of service in the barracks leaving him attuned to the struggles of those beneath him and you valued him for it.

“You think security should be relaxed?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“I think…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I think balance is needed. The Seldarine may be retreating, as I said earlier. And if they’re not, the constant pressure will leave our forces vulnerable in other ways. Exhaustion is as dangerous as complacency.”

You considered his words, the truth in them undeniable. Minthara’s unwavering focus on strength and readiness was admirable, but even the strongest chain had its breaking point.

“I’ll speak to her,” you promised, your voice steady. “I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try to convince her to ease the burden, if only a little.”

Kyorlin inclined his head in gratitude, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. You felt a flicker of guilt, you would speak to MInthara but you can already picture her response - a mocking laugh and dismissal.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his tone sincere. He hesitated for a moment longer, as if there were more he wished to say, but then thought better of it. With a final nod, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows, leaving you alone once more.

When you return to your chambers, you find Minthara standing by the window, her arms crossed as she watches you approach. The faintest trace of impatience marks her features, and her eyes narrow as you close the door.

“Tell me,” she says, her voice low, “what you discussed with Melinoe.”

You lean against the door, your expression light, keeping your tone evasive. “We spoke of family matters.”

Minthara’s gaze sharpens, not missing your deflection.

“You softened her, didn’t you?” she accuses, her voice carrying an edge of irritation, as though the very idea rankles her.

You chuckle, walking past her to set aside the robes you’d worn to dinner, shaking your head. “Oh, don’t worry, my love. Whatever words I offered won’t be able to displace a lifetime of Baenre ruthlessness. She’s still herself, still the fierce creature you know.”

Minthara watches you closely, her eyes narrowing in appraisal, and though she opens her mouth to press further, she closes it again, grudgingly dropping the topic. She relaxes slightly, a faint, amused smirk tugging at her lips as she settles back against the edge of the bed, watching you with a new intensity. But before the silence between you grows too long, you turn to her with another matter on your mind.

“Have you tried dosing me with sussur lately?” you ask casually, though your eyes hold a trace of curiosity. "I’ve been feeling… off, as if my magic is distant. Sometimes it feels almost unreachable.”

Minthara arches a brow, clearly caught off-guard by the question. She meets your gaze, her own expression shifting briefly as though weighing how to answer.

“I have been giving you doses,” she admits after a pause, “but not of sussur.”

You hum thoughtfully, mulling this over. “Perhaps it’s just an odd reaction with my magic, then. Something seems different… more restrained.”

Minthara watches you, her gaze narrowing with concern for a fleeting moment before she recovers, her voice even and calm.

“I’ll look into it,” she promises, moving closer and resting her hands on your shoulders. “But it could be the child—magic thrives in the womb. Maybe they’re claiming it for themselves.”

You can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

“A strong child,” you say, a hint of pride filling your tone. “Likely siphoning my strength already.”

Minthara’s lips quirk in a faint smile, her hands sliding down your arms in a gesture of quiet reassurance.

“If that’s the case, then we’ll have nothing to worry about. They’ll come into the world with a power to rival the best of the Baenre.”

Her confidence and calm soothe you as she continues, her hands drifting to rest on your slightly rounded belly, her gaze filled with an unexpected tenderness. The quiet of your chambers was broken by a faint, trembling cry from down the room adjacent to you. Both you and Minthara turned your heads sharply, your attention drawn to the sound of distress.

“Lythaera,” you said softly, already moving toward the door. Minthara followed without a word, her usual sharpness replaced with maternal concern.

You found the child in her room, sitting up in her small, ornate bed. Tears streaked her pale cheeks, and her tiny hands clutched the blanket around her as though for protection. Her eyes were wide and frantic, darting around the room as if searching for something that wasn’t there.

“Lythaera,” Minthara said, her voice unusually gentle as she crossed the room swiftly. She scooped the child up into her arms, holding her close. “What’s wrong, my little one?”

Lythaera buried her face in Minthara’s shoulder, her sobs muffled but still audible. You moved closer, your heart aching at the sight of her distress. Gently, you reached out to stroke her hair, her small form trembling beneath your touch.

“Sweetheart,” you said softly, crouching to her eye level as Minthara held her. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Lythaera lifted her head slightly, her cheeks flushed and damp with tears. Her voice was shaky, her words stumbling over themselves in her panic.

“I-I was burning,” she babbled, her small hands gripping at Minthara’s robes. “It was hot, Mama. Am I still burning?”

Minthara’s arms tightened protectively around the girl, and her expression darkened briefly—though whether it was at the imagined threat or her daughter’s fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re not burning, Lythaera,” Minthara assured her, her tone firm yet soothing. “You’re safe. Mama and I are here.”

You nodded, brushing Lythaera’s hair back from her face. “There’s no fire here, my love. Just us. You’re alright.”

The little girl sniffled, her tears slowing as she leaned into Minthara’s chest, comforted by your combined presence. Minthara sat down on the edge of Lythaera’s bed, cradling the child against her as you settled beside them.

For a few moments, the room was quiet again, the weight of the nightmare slowly lifting. As Lythaera began to calm, you glanced at Minthara, your earlier conversation with Kyorlin still lingering in your mind.

“Kyorlin approached me earlier,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “He asked me to speak with you about easing security. He’s concerned about the toll it’s taking on the guards.”

Minthara scoffed, her grip on Lythaera tightening slightly as she adjusted the child in her lap.

“Kyorlin is a fool if he thinks we can afford to relax now,” she said bluntly. “You’re pregnant. The Seldarine threat is far from over, and those Eilistraee extremists are like vipers in the grass. They’ll strike the moment we let our guard down.”

You’d expected her response, but you still felt compelled to press.

“He’s not wrong about exhaustion being a danger,” you said carefully. “We’ve pushed them hard. Perhaps we could find a way to—”

“No,” Minthara interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. “I won’t risk it. Not for their comfort, not for anything. Let them be tired. Better that than dead.”

At the mention of the Seldarine, Lythaera stirred, her small voice piping up hesitantly.

“S-sel-dar… Sel-darine?” she repeated, her tiny mouth stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

Minthara’s expression softened briefly as she looked down at her daughter, though her voice remained firm. “Yes, my little one. The Seldarine. They’re awful, terrible creatures. They would hurt us if they could.”

Lythaera blinked up at her, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Awful?” she echoed, her voice small.

Minthara nodded solemnly, her fingers brushing a stray curl from Lythaera’s face. “Very awful.”

Lythaera’s face scrunched up in concentration as she attempted another word she must have overheard. “And Eil… Eil-is-tree?”

You hid a small smile at her mispronunciation, but Minthara’s expression darkened slightly.

“Eilistraee,” Minthara corrected. “She’s just as bad, my love. Worse, even. Her followers want to destroy everything we’ve built.”

Lythaera’s little face twisted into a scowl, her crimson eyes flashing with childish indignation.

“I don’t like that name!” she declared, her small fists clenching. “Eil-is-tree is bad!”

Minthara’s lips quirked into a faint, approving smile, her fingers stroking Lythaera’s back soothingly.

“That’s right,” she said softly. “You’re a smart girl.”

You chuckled, leaning back slightly as you watched the exchange. Despite the tension of the conversation, there was something undeniably endearing about Lythaera’s fierce little declaration. Minthara’s protective hold on her daughter spoke volumes, her usual harshness tempered by a rare tenderness.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Unfortunately, your pregnancy had worsened over the past tenday. Now at 25 weeks, the dizziness that had plagued you occasionally during your pregnancy now came more frequently, sometimes leaving you lightheaded for long stretches. The baby’s movements were strong—sometimes too strong—and though you cherished the proof of their vitality, each kick seemed to sap what little energy you had. A faint, ever-present ache had settled into your body, and even simple tasks like standing for too long or climbing the estate's many stairs left you winded.

It was Minthara who called the healers, her tone sharp and unyielding when she ordered them to assess you. Their examinations were thorough, their probing hands and incantations leaving you feeling even more drained by the time they finished. When they finally delivered their conclusions, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it was no less frustrating.

“Stress,” the elder healer said, her lined face calm but firm. “The pregnancy is progressing normally, but the strain of your duties is taking its toll. If you continue like this, both you and the child may be at risk. I recommend stepping back from your responsibilities—earlier than planned.”

You bristled at the suggestion. Stepping back meant relinquishing control, even temporarily, and in Menzoberranzan, even a brief absence from power could invite ruin. Yet as the healer’s words settled in, you caught Minthara’s expression out of the corner of your eye. Her crimson eyes, sharp and assessing, left no room for argument.

“You’ll do as they say,” Minthara said bluntly, her voice brooking no dissent. “I won’t have you endangering yourself—or our child—because you’re too stubborn to rest.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. Over the next few days, you began to withdraw from your usual duties as Mistress of the house. Council meetings carried on without you, though Minthara kept you informed of their outcomes. Head of staff reported to Lesaoanar instead of you and the presence of the mistress' guard became increasingly present. You had caught one of them outside of bath chamber you had visited after a bought of nausea. You were not even allowed to mentor the younger girls of the house like you used to, Minthara had insisted that their shrill tones and excited shrieks were too much for you - although you supposed that was projection on her behalf.

You hated the sense of helplessness that came with your forced rest, hated the thought that the intricate workings of your house were happening without your direct involvement. But you couldn’t deny the faint relief you felt as the weight of responsibility began to lift, if only slightly. T

The routine changed fully when an emergency council meeting was called. Whispers had spread of Seldarine infiltrating other noble houses, a potential threat that required immediate attention. You instinctively rose to prepare for the meeting - surely this was too important for you to be excluded from? But Minthara intercepted you before you could leave your chambers.

“You’re not going,” she said firmly, stepping into your path.

“I should be there,” you argued, but the weariness in your own voice betrayed you.

“And risk collapsing in the middle of the council chamber?” Minthara’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll stay here. Watch the children. They’ll benefit from your presence, and you’ll benefit from not overextending yourself.”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but the faintest flicker of concern in her gaze silenced you. Reluctantly, you nodded, watching as she swept out of the room.

With only slight begrudging, you found yourself in the family common room, resting on a plush chaise as your child kicked within you. The triplets were already there, their usual boisterous energy filling the space. Sarae and Lira sat side by side, alight with mischief as they leaned toward Viroen. He stood a few paces away, his small arms crossed over his chest in an attempt to look defiant.

“You’re going to be sacrificed to Lolth next,” Lira said to Viroen, her crimson eyes gleaming with mock seriousness. Her delicate features, so much like her mother’s, were alight with amusement.

Sarae nodded solemnly, her expression an exaggerated mirror of her sister’s. “It’s true. The Priestess already said so.”

Viroen, to his credit, didn’t falter. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared them down with a defiance that belied his years.

“You’re lying,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “We already sacrificed baby Kel’ren last tenday. Lolth doesn’t need another sacrifice so soon.”

The twins burst into laughter, their facade crumbling as their brother’s response only fueled their amusement. Even Viroen couldn’t suppress a small, smug smile, clearly pleased with his own retort.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, their morbid humor a testament to their Baenre upbringing. It was moments like these—brief flashes of innocence amid the cruelty of your world—that you cherished most.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a small figure approaching. Lythaera, clutching her favorite plush spider, toddled over with determination. She reached your side and tugged gently at your sleeve, her wide crimson eyes filled with curiosity.

“Play colours?” she asked, her voice sweet and hopeful.

You smiled down at her, though your body felt heavy with fatigue. The game she suggested was simple enough, and you welcomed the opportunity to keep her entertained without expending too much energy.

“Alright, little one,” you said, adjusting yourself in your seat. “Let’s play. Tell me what color everyone’s eyes are.”

Lythaera’s face lit up with delight as she began the game. She pointed to each of the triplets in turn, her tiny finger aimed with precision.

“Sarae… red!” she declared with confidence. “Lira… red. Viroen… red.”

You nodded along, your smile growing. “Very good. And what about Mother and Unlce Lesaonar?”

Lythaera turned toward the door where her mother had last been, her expression thoughtful.

“Red!” she announced after a moment, looking back at you with pride.

You nodded again, pleased with her enthusiasm. “That’s right. And now… what about Uncle Kyorlin?”

Lythaera paused, her little brows furrowing in concentration. She tapped her chin with a finger, mimicking the way she had seen adults ponder, before speaking with confidence.

“Blue!” she declared, her voice clear and unwavering. You froze, the word catching you off guard.

“No, darling,” you corrected gently, though a faint unease stirred in your chest. “Kyorlin’s eyes are red. Just like everyone else’s.”

But Lythaera shook her head, her expression resolute. “No! Blue. Kya-oralin blue eyes.”

Her insistence made you pause, the certainty in her tone more unnerving than her words. You tried to brush it off as childish stubbornness, but the conviction in her gaze—so steadfast for one so young—sent a chill through you.

“Are you sure, Lythaera?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with curiosity and a creeping sense of dread.

“Blue,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Kya-oralin blue.”

The room, filled with the distant sounds of the triplets’ laughter, seemed to grow colder. A faint knot formed in your stomach, tightening with each passing moment. You wanted to dismiss it as nothing—a child��s imagination, a harmless mistake—but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that her words held some deeper meaning, something just out of reach.

Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the baby stirring within you as though sensing your unease. The warmth of Lythaera’s small presence beside you did little to quell the strange, ominous tension that now hung in the air.

“Alright, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft but distant. “If you say so.”

Lythaera smiled, satisfied with your response, and toddled back to her siblings, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The weight of her words lingered, echoing in your mind as a whisper of something you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to.

The disquieting comment from Lythaera lingered, an unwelcome shadow in the back of your mind. Kyorlin’s eyes were red—of course they were red. Everyone’s eyes in your family were red. Yet the conviction in Lythaera’s voice refused to be dismissed. You told yourself she was just a child, prone to mistakes, but Lythaera was no ordinary child. She was sharp, perceptive beyond her years, often noticing details others overlooked. Her insistence nagged at you like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

To quiet your unease, you called the triplets over.

The unease gnawed at you, refusing to abate. Finally, as if to silence your own doubts, you turned to the triplets, who were still playing in the corner of the room.

“Viroen,” you said, your voice light, masking your unease. “What color are Kyorlin’s eyes?”

Viroen glanced at you, his expression incredulous. “Red, of course, Auntie. What else would they be?”

“And you, Sarae? Lira?” you pressed, your tone remaining casual. The girls looked up from their game, identical smirks on their faces.

“Red,” they said in unison, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The answer eased you somewhat, though the doubt still clawed at the edge of your thoughts. When Lesaonar, Melinoe, and Minthara returned to the family room, you welcomed the distraction. They entered with a presence that commanded attention, their expressions grim. The tension in the air was palpable.

“What happened?” you asked, sitting up straighter despite your fatigue.

Minthara’s gaze softened slightly as it settled on you. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she said firmly. “It’s being handled.”

You frowned, frustration flickering to life. “I deserve to know. If this is about—”

Minthara raised a hand, silencing you with a look. “Rest, my love. Stress will only harm you and the baby. Trust that we are taking care of it.”

The dismissal rankled, but you held your tongue, unwilling to press the issue in front of the others. Minthara picked up Lythaera, and from that simple act you could tell the meeting had not gone well. Minthara was not one to seek out comfort but there were ways she showed when she required it. Picking up Lythaera was one of those ways.

You wanted to continue to pry about the meeting but had no desire for an argument, so instead, you turned your attention to Lesaonar. “Where’s Kyorlin?”

Lesaonar shrugged, his usual relaxed demeanor returning. “He’s sulking in the training yard. Probably sharpening his swords or brooding over something ridiculous. You know how he gets.”

Melinoe smirked. “Especially when somebody didn't get their way in the meeting."

"But no surprise there," Lesaonar chuckled before turning back to you. “Do you want me to fetch him for you?”

You shook your head, rising carefully to your feet. “No, I could use the walk. It will do me good.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze pinned you briefly, assessing. Finally, she nodded, though her lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t,” you promised, resting a hand briefly on her arm before making your way toward the corridor.

The estate was quieter now, the weight of the emergency meeting casting a somber mood over the halls. Your footsteps echoed softly as you moved, your hands resting protectively over your abdomen. You were tired, but the walk felt grounding, helping to dispel the restless energy that had clung to you all day. It was silly really, checking if the brother you have known all your life actually had red eyes just because of a toddler. Call it pregnancy paranoia or a lapse in sanity, but you just had to check.

You caught sight of Kyorlin just ahead, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. He was facing away from you, his shoulders tense as he leaned against the wall.

“Kyorlin,” you called softly, your voice carrying through the stillness.

He turned toward you, and in that moment, it was as though a veil had been lifted. His eyes—Lolth save you—were not red. Not the ones that beamed up at you when you first held him as a babe when he was brought into the world. Not the same red, you would dab tears from when your family's torment of him got too much. Not the red that had looked upon you in pain on your wedding day. They were a piercing, unnatural blue, glowing faintly in the dim light, almost unnatural. The sight hit you like a physical blow, and you stumbled back a step, your breath catching in your throat.

“Kyorlin…” The word was barely a whisper, your mind racing to make sense of the impossible. He’s not Lolth-sworn. Lolth has left him. He’s light-eyed. Seldarine. A traitor.

Before you could react, Kyorlin closed the distance between you with startling speed. His hand clamped over your mouth, muffling the cry that rose in your throat. His other hand flashed, and you felt the sharp sting of a blade piercing your side. The pain bloomed, hot and searing, as your legs buckled beneath you.

“This shouldn't have happened, not yet,” Kyorlin murmured, his voice low and regretful. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

Your magic surged instinctively, but the energy fizzled uselessly as though snuffed out. Panic flared in your chest as Kyorlin smiled faintly.

“Seems the sussur is finally doing its job,” he said, his tone almost apologetic.

Your vision blurred, and you fought desperately to stay conscious, your hands scrabbling weakly against his arm. The poison from his blade spread quickly, leaving your limbs heavy and unresponsive. Kyorlin leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear.

“All will be right,” he whispered, his voice laced with fervor. “Under Eilistraee’s light, we will all be free.”

Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and the last thing you heard before the world went black was Kyorlin’s voice, raised in a desperate, panicked yell.

“Help! Someone help! She’s been attacked!”

The urgency that filled the corridor was palpable as servants and guards clustered around your unconscious form. The whispers and rustling movements of their panic blurred together, creating a low hum of chaos. Kyorlin, still kneeling beside you, played his part with masterful precision. His hands trembled slightly as they cradled your head, his face drawn with just enough worry to seem genuine.

“Quickly! She needs the healers now!” he barked at the nearest servant, his voice breaking with carefully calculated urgency. “She said she felt tired, and then she just... collapsed!”

The gathered crowd accepted his explanation without question. After all, your recent ill health had been a topic of quiet concern throughout the household. You had been seen withdrawing from your duties, stepping away from council meetings, and struggling with exhaustion. That someone in your condition might faint was hardly surprising.

Several guards lifted you gently onto a stretcher, their movements precise and practiced. No one noticed the tiny cut beneath your robes, hidden and insignificant in appearance. To their eyes, it was nothing more than another bout of your worsening fatigue.

Minthara’s appearance silenced the murmurs. She strode into the corridor like a storm, her crimson eyes scanning the scene with a mix of confusion and barely restrained panic. Her grip on Lythaera tightened, the little girl held protectively against her chest.

“What happened?” Minthara demanded, her voice cutting through the noise. Kyorlin stood, his posture straightening as he met her gaze. His face was the perfect mask of concern and helplessness.

“We were speaking,” he explained, his voice low and calm. “She told me she was tired, and then she just collapsed. I called for help immediately.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze flicked to you, now being carried away by the servants. Her jaw clenched, her usual composure cracking at the edges. Lythaera squirmed in her arms, her wide eyes darting from her mother to you.

“I’m going with her,” Minthara said firmly, her tone brooking no argument as she took a step toward the retreating stretcher.

Kyorlin intercepted her, his movements careful, his voice soothing. “Minthara, wait. Let me take Lythaera. She shouldn’t see her mother like this—it will only upset her more.”

Minthara hesitated, her maternal instincts warring with her desire to stay at your side. Lythaera, perceptive even for her young age, looked up at her with wide, questioning eyes.

“She’ll be safe with me,” Kyorlin added, his tone softening as he held out his arms. “I’ll take her to Lesaonar and Melinoe’s quarters. You need to focus on my sister right now. She needs you.”

Minthara’s crimson eyes lingered on him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. She leaned down to kiss Lythaera’s forehead before handing her over.

“Look after her,” she said, her voice low and firm.

“Of course,” Kyorlin promised, his tone earnest. He cradled Lythaera gently, his grip firm but comforting. Minthara cast one last glance at you before hurrying after the stretcher, disappearing down the corridor toward the healers.

As soon as she was gone, Kyorlin’s expression changed. The concern evaporated, replaced by a cold smirk. He shifted Lythaera slightly in his arms, adjusting his hold as he turned and began walking in the opposite direction. His steps were measured, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. Lythaera, ever observant, tilted her head.

“Wrong way!” she said, her voice filled with the blunt curiosity only a child could manage. Kyorlin’s smirk widened, but his tone remained light and cheerful.

“No, it’s not,” he said. “We’re going on a little adventure instead.”

Lythaera’s brow furrowed, her small hands gripping the front of his tunic. “Adventure? Where?”

“You’ll see,” Kyorlin replied smoothly, his pace quickening. The shadows of the estate seemed to close in around them, and Lythaera’s unease grew as the familiar halls gave way to lesser-used corridors.

“Don’t like this way,” she mumbled, her voice growing quieter as her eyes darted nervously around.

Kyorlin’s smile turned cold, his blue eyes even colder, but he kept his voice gentle. “Don’t worry, little one. Soon, everything will be better. You’ll see.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Things were getting a little bit too chummy around here. Mwhahaha!

I hope you all enjoyed it, I think this chapter is a little shorter than others but don't worry lots to come!

Please let me know your thoughts and theories down below. I really love reading them and again, they are such amazing motivators for this series! Love you all! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

Check out my redbubble shop here !

Taglist: @longjohnsilverfish @alicelufenia @m-for-musings @h-doodles @spacezombiez @les-bee @chlondykebar @coratheninth @wineredsea @thepotatoislost @gaysindistress @trappedinafantasy37 @i-must-say-thats-quite-gay @damnsupercorp @lunar-monster @cinkenn17 @surrfix @iprobneedabeard @spicyshadows

[avatarskywalker78]

Talk Shop Tuesday: do you have any current wips/ideas you're really excited to write?

Firstly one of several prequels to to my Thunderbirds fic 'star fall' - this one will be called 'recovery' and is gonna be set around five/six months before International Rescue officially launched and around four months after Gordon came home from the hospital, with Sheridan making an impromptu trip to Tracy Island with Tia in tow because she hasn't had much of a chance to see him recently (she was only given a month off from work the first time around). This time gets to focus more on the brotherly relationships as well as the friendships cos this time there isn't a high-stakes rescue involved and it's going to be very heart-warming and also funny (there'll be some angst because of the general circumstances but it's not gonna be the overall focus)

I've also got a Breath of the Wild fic idea that I'm thinking of writing for the Gen Work June prompt 'Identity'...but it's not to do with Link! Or not specifically him - instead his twin sister (and yet another OC) Lira, because I had the idea of 'hey, wouldn't be fucked up to look exactly like the Hero and even mistaken for him sometimes and yet you're not, yet you're always, always referred to as The Hero's Sister no matter how hard you tried to make a name for yourself' and it wouldn't leave me alone. I was hoping to get at least started in it this week but I'm still recovering from a bug and I've also only been playing the game for like. Three weeks. And while mostly it takes place a hundred years before not all of it does - Lira's also in some kind of stasis after being seriously injured during the Battle but I've not worked out the exactly details of how (she also thinks her brother's dead so it's another angsty one this), I just really like the idea so I'll write it.

There's also my Doctor Who 'God of Beginnings' who I theorized was The Oldest One in this post but long story short he's the one responsible for Ruby's creation - the multiverse and especially this particular universe have gone through a lot with the Last Great Time War and everything else, but when the Flux rips open dimensional tears and let's the Toymaker in to play havoc with the Doctor's backstory (before making it so that the rest of the Pantheon are let through) the Oldest One realises he has to act because this has brought a version of Sutekh back onto the board and the only way to give the Doctor time to retaliate...is to provide the God of Death with a distraction he won't be able to resist, that will prove to be his undoing-

Like a completely human person surrounded by mystery with no blood connection anywhere in space and time...

Talk Shop Tuesday

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @starstruckpurpledragon @janetm74

[bardock1991]

RWBY: Heirs of the Future

& It's finished. I also added a logo, as well as a cool background of the Remnant Map I'll give a brief overview of each of the characters in a moment

Thanks to JumJamz for the inspiration, this was really fun

Name: Vermillion O. Rose

Age: 15

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Sapphic Ace

Allusion: Celica from Fire Emblem

Class: Lord

Personality: Unlike her Mother, Vee is very talkitive, expressive, lively & extroverted. She's very kind & friendly, but also a bit of a pacifist.

Name: Ranja Polendina

Age: 14

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Gay

Allusion: Laphicet from Tales of Berseria

Class: Sorcerer

Personality: A young boy who was captured & experimented upon as a child. Fortunately, he was found & rescued, then adopted by Penny. Ranja's a shy & distant boy.

Name: Lira X.L. Belladonna

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Allusion: Tifa from Final Fantasy

Class: Grappler

Personality: A Thrillseeker who loves to get into fights, as well as be a bit of a tease towards her friends. Despite that, she's warm & caring like a mother.

Name: Mowgli X.L. Belladonna

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Allusion: Cloud from Final Fantasy

Class: Ronin

Personality: A young man who tries to act like the cool, older brother, but in reality, he's a bit of a dork & a huge softy, just like his mother, Yang.

Name: Nicholas Schnee III

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Allusion: Thor from Marvel Comics

Class: General

Personality: A very friendly, if somewhat loud, young man who wishes to honor the name of his great-grandfather. Despite his bombastic attitude, he's very wise.

Name: Athena Arc

Age: 15

Gender: Female

Sexuality: AroAce

Allusion: Athena from Greek Myth

Class: Bishop

Personality: A very kind & heartwarming young girl, as well as a skilled healer. Through her Father, she developed a strong sense of empathy, even to her enemies.

Name: Harlen E. Goodwitch

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Allusion: Lina from The Slayers

Class: Dark Flier

Personality: Like Vee, Harlen is almost the opposite of her mother. Energetic, a thrillseeker, talkitive & kinda reckless. But like her Mother, she's very smart.

Name: Odin R. Valkyrie

Age: 17

Gender: Trans Masc

Sexuality: Gay

Allusion: Elves from Norse Myth

Class: Sniper

Personality: A young man who doubted himself when he was a child, but thanks to the support of his parents, Odin was able to find his true self. He's a loyal friend.

Name: Aladdin B. Sustrai

Age: 17

Gender: Non-Binary

Sexuality: Bisexual

Allusion: Aladdin from The Arabian Nights

Class: Rogue

Personality: They're a bit of a scheemer, as well as a bit nihilistic, due to their upbringing. Even so, they never stop trying to do the right thing.

Name: Shadow Fall

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Assexual

Allusion: Shadow from Sonic The Hedgehog

Class: Dark Knight

Personality: A cold, distant, blunt & serious young man who never knew his mother. After meeting Vee, he slowly, but surely began to soften up.

Name: Khloud Alcides Ignis

Age: 53

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Allusion: Broly from Dragon Ball

Class: Holy Knight

Personality: A Veteran Knight who was once the crown prince of Vale. After The War of Rebirth, he stepped down & served the new king as a Royal Knight.

Name: Zwei Rose

Age: Unknown

Gender: Male

Allusion: Kilara from Inuyasha

Personality: Ruby's only friend throughout most of The War of Rebirth, he's a loyal friend & a powerful ally. He's also very protective of those he grows close to, as well as a bit of a softy to children.

[elmalo8291]

Episode 21 of The Flavor Alchemy Chronicles

Title: "Inferno Milk: Embrace the Flame Within"

Setting:

The air crackles with energy in Queen Lira’s Throne Room, where the heat of the flames merges with the very essence of fire and passion. The room is alive with heat, glowing golden with the flicker of torches and molten lava pools beneath the feet. The walls pulse with an unrelenting energy, and a constant hum of crackling embers fills the air. Every moment in this place is a test of resilience, strength, and a willingness to embrace the untamed power of fire.

In this episode, we take a bold step forward with a new creation designed to fuel the fire of resilience, enhance strength, and ignite the very core of the drinker’s being. Inferno Milk is here to bring forth the heat that drives you to action, to fuel your ambition, and to push you beyond your limits.

Recipe: Inferno Milk

Purpose: Designed to stoke the fires of ambition, enhance endurance, and provide an intense burst of energy and warmth. Ideal for those who want to embrace their inner strength and conquer their goals with fiery determination.

Milk Base:

Coconut Milk + Cashew Milk Blend: A rich and creamy foundation with the deep, earthy notes of cashew milk paired with the tropical richness of coconut milk. It forms the perfect creamy canvas to support the heat and intensity of the flavors to come.

Chili Infusion (Habanero & Ghost Pepper): A potent blend of habanero and ghost pepper extracts, giving the milk a fiery kick that builds in intensity, creating a feeling of warmth and power. The heat is not immediate but lingers and intensifies as it travels through the body.

Flavor Profile:

Bold, fiery, smoky, and with a smooth aftertaste that rounds out the heat. The flavors evolve as the heat develops.

Smoked Chipotle – Adds a deep, smoky layer that lingers on the palate.

Blackened Mango – Sweet, tropical mango that is roasted to bring out its natural sugars, balancing the spice with an unexpected sweetness.

Cinnamon & Clove – Grounding and warming, these spices provide depth and complexity to the overall profile.

Dark Brown Sugar – Sweetness that contrasts the heat, but provides a comforting and hearty sweetness to balance the spice.

Functional Alchemy:

Capsaicin Extract (from chilies): The core element of Inferno Milk, increasing circulation, stimulating metabolism, and providing a long-lasting, gentle warmth that permeates the body.

Ginger Extract: A powerful root that supports digestion, helps with muscle recovery, and enhances circulation, complementing the heat of the chilies.

Rhodiola Rosea: An adaptogen known for its ability to increase endurance, stamina, and strength, perfect for fueling the body with the energy needed to power through challenges.

Black Pepper Extract: A complementary spice that enhances the absorption of capsaicin, making the heat more effective and impactful.

L-Citrulline: An amino acid that helps improve endurance and reduces muscle soreness, providing a boost of energy that complements the fiery intensity of the milk.

Fiery Foam:

Cayenne Infused Whipped Cream: A bold, spicy whipped cream laced with cayenne pepper and a touch of cinnamon, providing a fiery finish to each sip.

Charred Orange Peel: A hint of charred, caramelized orange peel sprinkled over the top, bringing a smokiness and citrus brightness that complements the heat.

Pairing Bite:

"Ember-Baked Brownies" – Dark chocolate brownies infused with a hint of chili, cinnamon, and dark cocoa, with a molten core of chocolate lava that oozes out when cut. These brownies pack their own spicy punch, balancing the heat of the Inferno Milk.

Surprise Element: "Dragon's Breath Macaroons" – Coconut macaroons dipped in spicy chocolate ganache with a tiny hint of ghost pepper powder, giving a surprising and delightful heat on the finish.

Royalty Collectible Edition (Flame-Sealed Package):

The Inferno Chalice: A gold-plated chalice with fiery ruby inlays, crafted to hold Inferno Milk and withstand the intense heat. The chalice is engraved with Queen Lira’s royal seal.

Blaze Crown: A crown forged from obsidian and wrapped in golden thread, representing the burning passion and strength of fire.

Phoenix Feather Journal: A leather-bound journal with pages that heat up slightly when touched, encouraging inspiration and a desire to write with fiery passion.

Lira’s Emberstone Pendant: A pendant containing a small, glowing ember, symbolic of the constant fire that fuels strength, ambition, and endurance.

Merch & Collectibles:

"Firestorm Candles" – Hand-poured soy candles infused with notes of cinnamon, smoke, and chili, designed to fill the room with warmth and energy.

"Inferno Mug" – A rugged, matte black ceramic mug with an interior that glows fiery orange when filled with Inferno Milk, giving the illusion of an internal flame.

"Flame-Wrought Cloak" – A durable, heat-resistant cloak with a bold red and gold pattern that shifts like flames when worn.

Next Episode Teaser:

Next time, we journey into Queen Sylphia’s Airy Kingdom to craft a soothing, cooling creation: Celestial Milk. This drink will balance the intense heat from the Inferno Milk, offering clarity, coolness, and a gentle breeze to calm the senses. It’s time for us to shift from fire to air, where serenity meets mindfulness.

End of Episode 21.

The fire has been stoked, and now it’s time to turn our gaze toward the calm of the next creation. Would you like to continue the fiery journey or step into the cool and calming realm of Queen Sylphia?

[dragonprincedrabbles]

The generator has been updated to add characters and prompts for s7 and also some that I discovered never got added for s6, whoops.

Also cleaned up some of the less-good prompts that were really just filling out the initial list.

Update Details

Added the following characters:

Lira, Minor Female Character (moved from Non-Series Characters)

Lyrennus, Minor Male Character

Shiruakh, Laurelion, and Aaron and Sam were not added because I decided to exclude historical characters who have a name but no other information, and Aaron and Sam are really only at about the level of Aegis and Embertail and I removed them a while ago.

Removed the following characters:

The Jailer, Minor Female Character

The Orphan Queen, Minor Female Character

Added the following prompts:

Ancient and Disturbing

Banther Lodge

Brothers

Celestial Order

Clarity, Light and Purpose

Complicated

Fire Rubies

Half-truths

I'm Still Me

The In-Between

Inversion

The Jailer

Moonberry Surprise

My Blood for Justice

My Breath for Freedom

My Eyes for Truth

My Strength for Honor

The Orphan Queen

The Star Within You

A Thousand Eyes

Timeblind

True Heart

Unfinished Business

Wedding Cake

Well of the Forgotten

Removed the following prompts:

Banther

Blue Roses

Brightbell

Bumble-Scorp

Crimson Orchids

Deep Magic

Earthblood

Fart Flowers

Flowers of Elarion

Garlaath's Bandolier of Skulls

The Hollow Wood

Milkfruit

Moonberries

Moonshadow

Primal Sources

Purple Pentapus

Skywing

Sunfire

Tidebound

[punkdasilva]

Aeterna Desideria

Ó filha do Éter, das brumas nascida Com olhos que guardam o canto do mar És sombra e luz numa trama tecida De deuses que ousam teu rosto moldar

Teus cabelos são rios que fogem da noite Tocando os ombros com ouro furtado Qual Perséfone ao sol, em brilho e açoite Entre a terra e o céu, num pacto quebrado

Afrodite, enciumada, ergue a mão ao destino Brada aos ventos: “Roubaram-me a graça!” Mas és mais que a deusa, um poder cristalino Que escapa à mortal e divina ameaça

Apolo, em teus traços, perdeu sua lira E os astros, por ti, erraram no céu O sol te deseja, mas não te retira És fogo que dança sem dono ou véu

Eros tremeu ao mirar teus caminhos Sua flecha caiu, sem força, ao chão Mesmo os deuses, ao cruzarem teus ninhos São presas do caos, da pura paixão

Mas há algo em ti, além do encanto Algo que fere e que faz zombar Um riso sutil, um eco de pranto Que faz o amor se ajoelhar

Teus lábios, rubis que a noite reclama Prometem beijos que nunca virão És chama que arde, mas nunca se inflama És miragem etérea, perpétua ilusão

Oh, musa terrena, moldada em sarcasmo És sátira viva da própria beleza De que vale a glória, o Olimpo, o entusiasmo Se a perfeição traz em si tal frieza?

A mortalidade que em ti é latente Faz do divino um brinquedo vulgar Pois os deuses, ao ver-te, tornam-se gente E a glória eterna começa a sangrar

Então eu canto, perdido em desdém Tão ciente do jogo em que me deixo prender Tu és o abismo que atrai e contém A musa que faz o poeta morrer

Ó filha do Éter, nascida do caos Que os céus e a terra não podem conter És riso e pranto, deuses em maus tratos És arte que vive só para doer

Se Byron vivesse, choraria ao ver-te Pois teus olhos zombam da própria poesia És o caos que inspira e que faz temer-te Um enigma eterno, na noite vazia

[marianeaparecidareis]

DEUS Está sempre onde está A GRAÇA, pois A Graça é Amor, E DEUS ESTÁ ONDE ESTÁ O AMOR.

02 de julho de 1944.

O NOSSO AMADO SENHOR JESUS DIZ:

“Não nos procure ansiosamente. Estamos com você.

«Antigamente foi permitido que Maria Santíssima procurasse o seu DEUS perdido, o seu JESUS, [496] mas foi um acontecimento fortuito". Maria Santíssima já tinha DEUS antes mesmo de Ser sua Mãe, pois DEUS Está sempre onde está A GRAÇA, pois A Graça é Amor, E DEUS ESTÁ ONDE ESTÁ O AMOR.

“Assim como aconteceu com Minha Mãe, assim acontece com vocês, irmãos e irmãs fiéis e Filhos de DEUS e de SANTA MARIA. Quando vocês buscam A DEUS é porque O Amor já O colocou em seus Corações".

Quando ELE parece chegar, não é que você O esteja vendo chegar: o fato é que seu Espírito, ainda mais Lúcido por uma Febre de Amor mais intensa, faz com que O Veja no lugar onde ELE já estava.

ELE parece estar entrando em você. Na Verdade, são vocês que estão se unindo mais Intimamente A ELE.

Somente no lugar onde não há GRAÇA – e, portanto, nenhum Amor, ou Desejo, OU BUSCA DE DEUS – ELE nunca Chega porque o Ódio O rejeita.

“É por isso que A GRAÇA tem importância Capital". É isto que, com Amor antecipado, vos concede A Posse de DEUS, que É A Alegria e A glória dos Bem-Aventurados.

“Não me procures ansiosamente". Considere que se às vezes parece que NÃO ESTOU presente, não é como uma publicação.

O que EU DISSE PARA MINHA MÃE? ‘Por que você estava Me procurando?

Você não sabe que EU DEVO Estar sobre os negócios de Meu Pai?’

Pois bem, quando EU Te privo de Minha presença Perceptível e parece que te abandonei, é porque ESTOU ME Ocupando com as preocupações de Meu Pai.

Preciso de suas lágrimas de Amor para resgatar uma Alma que o Ódio está se transformando em escrava do Mal. Você vê como EU TE AMO?

EU os associo A Mim no resgate dos Pobres Perdidos e no serviço à Glória de Nosso Pai.

“Sorria, pequena esposa. Antes que o dia esfrie e as sombras se alarguem, iremos ao monte da mirra e ao monte do incenso. [497] Sorria, pequena esposa. No cume você será coroada.

“Vocês sabem o que é o cume da montanha nupcial para Minhas queridas noivas"?

Você sabe qual é a coroa com a qual elas se tornam rainhas?

O cume do Gólgota perfura O Céu e Floresce no Paraíso, e os ramos nodosos dos espinhos que Me Torturaram produzem Rosas Douradas. Quanto tempo dura O Caminho sob A Cruz! Quanta dor na Cruz! Quanto Sangue esses espinhos devem beber para florescer!

“Venha e sorria em seu Espírito". As lágrimas são pérolas sobre Rubis de Rosas, e os soluços são o acorde das liras de sua entrada triunfal quando você sobe do deserto, cheio de delícias, apoiada em seu Amado.”

JESUS - CADERNO [02] MARIA VALTORTA.

[496] Lucas 2:41-50. [497] Cântico dos Cânticos 4:6.

[streets-of-stellarosa]

Othyrian Dollar

The Othyrian dollar has been the official currency of Othyria since 776 Third Kindling, when it replaced the Othyrian lira. As of 929 Third Kindling, the median wage for an entry-level manufacturing job in Stellarosa is 38 cents an hour.

Othyrian coins are minted in a variety of sizes and composed of various materials. However, barring older coins still in circulation, and promotional coins minted as collectors items, larger coins are consistently worth more than smaller coins. Each coin prominently denotes its value (in cents) on one side, and the royal crest on the reverse. The coins widely in circulation, along with the most common name for each, are:

Millie-- A coin worth one tenth of a cent. Copper alloy, 14 mm diameter.

Quincy-- A coin worth half a cent. Copper alloy, 15.5 mm diameter.

Penny-- A coin worth one cent. Copper alloy, 18 mm diameter.

Nickel-- A coin worth five cents. Nickel alloy, 19 mm diameter.

Dime-- A coin worth ten cents. Nickel alloy, 22 mm diameter.

Quarter-- A coin worth twenty five cents. Nickel alloy, 24 mm diameter.

Half Dollar-- A coin worth fifty cents. Aluminum alloy, 30 mm diameter.

Ruby Dollar-- A coin worth one hundred cents. Aluminum alloy, 38 mm diameter.

Despite the name, Othyrian paper money is printed on a blend of linen and cotton. Denominations are of uniform size, 63 mm by 158 mm, and prominently display their value (in dollars) on each corner of the front side, accompanied by an aritistic rendition of a famous landmark or major historical figure. The reverse side displays the royal crest and the value of the bill written out. Higher denominations are manufactured with illusions embedded in the bills.

Dollar Bill-- Green. Depicts the skyline of diMeraldi, the Othyrian capital.

Five Dollar Bill-- Blue. Depicts Anton Rigarda, first president of the National Assembly.

Ten Dollar Bill-- Violet. Depicts Lucien Fiora, first president of the Royal Senate.

Twenty Dollar Bill-- Pink. Depicts the Cartaccio mountains; embedded illusions cause the sun and moon to rise and set.

Fifty Dollar Bill-- Gold. Depicts the view of Verdunna Bay from the pier; embedded illusions cause waves on the water.

Hundred Dollar Bill-- White. Depicts Queen Justinia Pulcheria diOthyr; embedded illusions cause her wings to flap.

[doubleattitude]

Radix Dance Convention, Denver, CO: RESULTS

High Scores by Age:

Rookie Solo

1st: Skyla Edger-’Hallelujah’

2nd: Prairie Wilkins-’Older Than I Am’

3rd: Lucy Tang-’You Are A Memory’

4th: Jsde Peterson-’Fly Me To The Moon’

5th: Ava Azar-’Halo’

6th: Abby Fowle-’One Moment More’

7th: Quinn Nash-’Tiny Dancer’

Mini Solo

1st: Savannah Manzel-’Fly Me To The Moon’

2nd: Karson Koller-’Asht’

3rd: Isabella DiBenedetto-’Amen’

4th: Ella Miller-’For Now I Am Winter’

4th: Lily Haas-’I Can’t Stand The Rain’

4th: Mariah Reuvers-’Sleep’

5th: Harper Potts-’Fireflies’

5th: Julian Aranda-’Jump’

5th: Emily Benjamin-’Roxie’

6th: Avery Burgard-’Fancy’

7th: Marley Dechant-’Control’

7th: Kate Casa-’Isn’t She Lovely’

7th: Emily Bell-’Na, Na, Na’

7th: Ella Birdsong-’The Garden’

8th: Tori Barrett-’Borderline’

8th: Evelyn Cherry-’This Is Us Colliding’

9th: Kinsley Odom-’Insight’

9th: Natalie Lira-’Tiny Dancer’

10th: Annabelle Winterbottom-’Red Alert’

Junior Solo

1st: Coltrane Vodicka-’Moon River’

2nd: Campbell Clark-’I’ll Be Seeing You’

3rd: Taryn Miner-’Make You Feel My Love’

4th: Alegra Post-’What If Birds Were Screaming’

5th: Vanessa Lira-’Convolution’

6th: Genesse Craft-’The Beat Goes On’

7th: Gianna Montoya-’Burn It Up’

7th: Morgan Jensen-’Fields of Gold’

8th: Grace Grieve-’Mask, Gloves, Soap, Scrubs’

9th: Brynlee Morton-’Where Did Our One Go?’

10th: Ruby Spencer-’What You Want’

Teen Solo

1st: Lola Iglesias-’Letters from a Traveler’

2nd: Ayla Rodriguez-Ping’

3rd: Olivia Taylor-’Why Try To Change Me Now?’

4th: Maliah Howard-’Sei La Vita’

4th: Maya Howard-’Telehumo’

5th: Kennedy Peterson-’Build It Up’

5th: Soleil Nelson-’Cetana’

5th: Emerson Ramos-’Rebel Angel’

6th: Davina Ephraim-’Hurt for Me’

6th: Devon Stutz-’No End To New Memories’

6th: Sara Allen-’This Land Is Your Land’

7th: Abbey Schmidt-’Letters Make No Meaning’

7th: Teya Pak-’Pathogenic Agent’

7th: Gwendolyn Cherry-’Shiny Stockings’

8th: Eliane Dean-’Both Sides of the Moon’

8th: Jamir Nuanes-’Fresh Prince’

9th: Addison Ihler-’Boyfriend’

9th: Avery Trammell-’It’s Time To Go’

9th: Chloe Jachowicz-’The River’

10th: Emma Broome-’Death’

10th: Lauren Feichtinger-’Labyrinth’

10th: Tea Anderson-’Verses of My Soul’

10th: Kendall Hoffner-’Wait’

Senior Solo

1st: Sithumi Sinley-’Genesis II’

2nd: Vivian Unkart-’What’s It Gonna Take’

3rd: Maycee Budge-’Footprints’

3rd: Liesl Brauch-’Grower’

3rd: Grace Coleman-’Walk On’

4th: Mia Maxwell-’Locomotive’

4th: Bronson Dahmer-’The Pain Room’

5th: Bella Donatelli-’Away Go’

5th: Jasmin Conner-’The Egg’

5th: Shaelynn Rounds-’The Radical Self’

6th: Maddie Myers-’Catalina’

6th: Vincent Maizland-’Slow Descent’

7th: Madison Skinner-’Always On My Mind’

7th: Angelee RiAli-’Gabi’s Story’

7th: Remy Wright-’Moments Passed’

7th: Annie Cellar-’Psalm’

7th: Sophia Price-’Shahmaran’

8th: Piper Northburg-’Concerto’

8th: Taylor Piper-’Tender Skin’

9th: Sydney Carlin-’Salvatore’

10th: Teigyn Holt-’L.J’

10th: Trip Babcock-’Slip’

10th: Sophia Meza-’The Watering’

10th: Kendall Moller-’When I Fall In Love’

Rookie Duo/Trio

1st: A Dance Place-’Seize The Day’

2nd: The Dance Movement-’When She Loved Me’

3rd: The Dance Movement-’Heartbeats’

Mini Duo/Trio

1st: Stars Dance Studio-’Rescue’

2nd: A Dance Place-’You and Me But Mostly Me’

3rd: En Face Studios-’Where Do I Go From Here?’

Junior Duo/Trio

1st: Evoke Dance Movement-’Everything Is In Line’

2nd: Move By Morelli-’After Everything I’ve Done’

3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’Broken Chords’

Teen Duo/Trio

1st: all my feidns

2nd: bettet then today

3rd: nostalgia

3rd: when doves

Senior Duo/Trio

1st: thinking about you

2nd: lose somebody

3rd: everything all at

Rookie Group

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Boogie Shoes’

2nd: The Dance Movement-’Imagine’

2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Name Game’

3rd: Studio West Dance Center-’Home’

Mini Group

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Celloopa’

2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’SuperSonic’

3rd: Studio West Dance Center-’Choo Choo Cha Boogie’

3rd: A Dance Place-’Cover Is Not The Book’

Junior Group

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Ice Age’

1st: Sweatshop-’Rock It’

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Tambourine’

1st: Mpact Dance Project-’The Cubs’

2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Give A Little’

3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’O My Love’

Teen Group

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Our Love’

2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Moonlight’

2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Where Is The Love?’

3rd: Sweatshop-’Hope There’s Someone’

3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Life Within’

3rd: Empower Dance-’Open Hands’

3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’The Thing’

Senior Group

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’I Never Thought That You Could Be Left In My Chest’

1st: Empower Dance-’Lying Down’

1st: Studio West Dance Center-’Masters of Deception’

2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Lover Please Stay’

2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Verona’

3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’Wings in the Grass’

Rookie Line

1st: The Dance Movement-’Might Not Like Me’

Mini Line

1st: Mpact Dance Project-’Hey Pachuco’

2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Wind Beneath My Wings’

3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Nasty’

Junior Line

1st: Sweatshop-’Comin in Hot’

2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Back For More’

2nd: Sweatshop-’The Sun Will Rise’

3rd: Sweatshop-’Glory’

3rd: Sweatshop-’Hermetico’

3rd: Sweatshop-’Shelter’

Teen Line

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’The Day It All Crashed’

2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Change Will Come’

3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Take Me Coco’

Senior Line

1st: Sweatshop-’Is That Alright’

2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Nunc Dimittis’

3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’A Town That’s Right For Me’

Mini Extended Line

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Raise Your Voice’

2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Sleeping Beauty’

Junior Extended Line

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Divas, Queens and Bees’

2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Love’

3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Flood of Everything’

3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Ooh Child’

Teen Extended Line

1st: Studio West Dance Center-’Into The Realm’

1st: Mpact Dance Project-’You Can’t Sit With Us’

2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Basshead’

2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Out of Line’

2nd: Studio West Dance Center-’The Swarm’

3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’All Night’

3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’Di Mi Nombre’

3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’La Mordidita’

3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Missy’

Junior Production

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Step in Time’

2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Let’s Dance’

Teen Production

1st: Mpact Dance Project-’It’s So Overt, It’s Covert’

2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Roaring 20s’

High Scores by Performance Division:

Rookie Jazz

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Boogie Shoes’ 2nd: The Dance Movement-’Might Not Like Me’ 3rd: Studio West Dance Center-’Home’

Rookie Tap

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Name Game’

Rookie Contemporary

1st: Studio West Dance Center-’Petite Fleur’

Rookie Lyrical

1st: The Dance Movement-’Imagine’

Mini Jazz

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Nasty’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Forever More’ 3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Self Love’

Mini Ballet

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Sleeping Beauty’

Mini Hip-Hop

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Keep It Up’ 2nd: Studio West Dance Center-’Wheels On The Bus’

Mini Tap

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’SuperSonic’ 2nd: Studio West Dance Center-’Choo Choo Cha Boogie’ 3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Just Got Paid’

Mini Contemporary

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Celloopa’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Dare’ 3rd: Studio West Dance Center-’September Song’

Mini Lyrical

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Wind Beneath My Wings’ 2nd: A Dance Place-’Firework’ 2nd: A Dance Place-’This Is Me’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’It’s Impossible’ 3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Keep Climbing’

Mini Musical Theatre

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Raise Your Voice’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Hey Pachuco’ 3rd: A Dance Place-’Cover Is Not The Book’

Mini Ballroom

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Conga’

Junior Jazz

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Tambourine’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Let’s Dance’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Love’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’Hermetico’

Junior Hip-Hop

1st: Sweatshop-’Comin in Hot’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Divas, Queens and Bees’ 3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Welcome to the Party’

Junior Tap

1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’I Love Your Smile’

Junior Contemporary

1st: Mpact Dance Project-’The Cubs’ 2nd: Sweatshop-’Shelter’ 3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Flood of Everything’

Junior Lyrical

1st: Sweatshop-’The Sun Will Rise’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Give A Little’ 3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Ooh Child’

Junior Musical Theatre

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Step in Time’

Junior Ballroom

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Sweet Like Cola’

Junior Specialty

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Ice Age’ 1st: Sweatshop-’Rock It’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Back For More’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’Glory’

Teen Jazz

1st: Empower Dance-’One Last Time’ 1st: Empower Dance-’The Upside’ 2nd: Studio West Dance Center-’Without You’ 2nd: Sweatshop-’Disco Pop’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’All Night’ 3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Anything I Do’

Teen Ballet

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Don Quixote’ 2nd: Studio West Dance Center-’Recomposed’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’Allegro from Paquita’

Teen Hip-Hop

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Missy’ 2nd: Studio Wesr Dance Center-’Just Gang’ 2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Jay-Z’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’I Believe’

Teen Tap

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Where Is The Love?’ 2nd: Studio West Dance Center-’Get Down’ 2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Back in Black’

Teen Contemporary

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Change Will Come’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Moonlight’ 3rd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Life Within’ 3rd: Studio West Dance Center-’The Swarm’ 3rd: Studio West Dance Center-’Love More’ 3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’Out of Line’ 3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Basshead’ 3rd: Empower Dance-’Finish Line’ 3rd: Empower Dance-’Open Hands’

Teen Lyrical

1st: Studio West Dance Center-’Unknown’ 2nd: Sweatshop-’Ghost in the Wind’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’Feels Like This’

Teen Musical Theatre

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’The Day It All Crashed’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’You Can’t Sit With Us’ 3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Cell Block Tango’

Teen Ballroom

1st: Mpact Dance Project-’La Mordidita’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Sax’ 2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’When I Grow Up’

Teen Specialty

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Our Love’ 1st: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Take Me Coco’ 2nd: Studio West Dance Center-’Into The Realm’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’Hope There’s Someone’ 3rd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’The Thing’

Senior Jazz

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Tainted Love’ 2nd: DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’My Game’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’Escalate’

Senior Ballet

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’La Bayadere’ 1st: Sweatshop-’Dirt’

Senior Hip-Hop

1st: Sweatshop-’Shoot the Shot’

Senior Contemporary

1st: Studio West Dance Center-’Masters of Deception’ 1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’I Never Thought That You Could Be Left In My Chest’ 1st: Empower Dance-’Lying Down’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Verona’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Dissolving Tension’ 3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’Wings in the Grass’

Senior Lyrical

1st: Sweatshop-’Is That Alright’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Nunc Dimittis’ 3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’Don’t Leave Me’ 3rd: Mpact Dance Project-’Lover Please Stay’

Senior Musical Theatre

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’A Wild, Wild Party’

Senior Ballroom

1st: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Smooth’

Senior Specialty

1st: Mpact Dance Project-’A Town That’s Right For Me’ 2nd: Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’All Together Now’ 2nd: Mpact Dance Project-’Side Effects’ 3rd: Sweatshop-’The Enchanting’

Best of Radix:

Rookie

The Dance Movement-’Imagine’

DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Boogie Shoes’

Studio West Dance Center-’Home’

Mini

Studio West Dance Center-’Choo Choo Cha Boogie’

Mpact Dance Project-’Hey Pachuco’

A Dance Place-’Cover Is Not The Book’

Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Dare’

DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Celloopa’

Junior

Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’Step in Time’

Mpact Dance Project-’The Cubs’

Sweatshop-’Comin in Hot’

Teen

Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’The Day It All Crashed’

The Dance Movement-’How to Win’

Sweatshop-’Hope There’s Someone’

Empower Dance-’Finish Line’

Mpact Dance Project-’Moonlight’

Studio West Dance Center-’Into The Realm’

DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Take Me Coco’

Senior

DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’I’ve Known Your Heart’

Sweatshop-’Is That Alright’

Empower Dance-’Lying Down’

Mpact Dance Project-’Nunc Dimittis’

Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’I Never Thought That You Could Be Left In My Chest’

Studio West Dance Center-’Masters of Deception’

Studio Standout:

Sweatshop-’Is That Alright’

Studio West Dance Center-’Masters of Deception’

Mpact Dance Project-’Nunc Dimittis’

Michelle Latimer Dance Academy-’The Day It All Crashed’

DanceSpace Performing Arts Academy-’Take Me Coco’

A Dance Place-’Youth’

[moonselune]

By the Silk that Binds Us (pt. 10)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Matron!Minthara x Forced!Betrothed!reader

CW: murder, gore, time skip!

An arranged marriage, enemies to lovers fic: part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven part eight part nine part eleven

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The hours crawl by as you wait, every passing minute gnawing at your resolve. You’ve been through countless battles, faced countless dangers, but nothing compares to the anxiety that grips you now. The ambush against the Seldarine should have been over hours ago, and yet there’s been no word, no sign of Minthara’s return. You clench your hands into fists, trying to banish the fear that threatens to consume you.

Then, at last, you hear the sound of footsteps, the buzz of returning warriors. Your heart leaps, and without a second thought, you sprint toward the coves where the war spiders are kept, your breath catching in your throat. As you weave through the crowd, your eyes dart from face to face, desperately searching until—there. You see her, Minthara, standing tall as always, the faint sheen of battle still clinging to her skin.

Relief floods through you, and you call out her name, your voice breaking just a little. She turns, and the sight that greets you makes your heart soar. Strapped snugly to her chest is your daughter, Lythaera, her tiny hands clutching at Minthara’s armor as she babbles happily, entirely unaware of the chaos she’s just left behind.

You reach them in a heartbeat, gathering Lythaera into your arms and holding her close, as if to reassure yourself that she’s truly there, truly safe. You shower her in kisses, murmuring endearments against her soft snow hair, and her delighted giggles fill the air.

"My little spiderling, my sweet Lythaera," you whisper, blinking back tears. Minthara watches, her arms crossing over her chest, one eyebrow arching with playful exasperation.

"Oh, I see how it is," she drawls. "Completely ignored, am I?"

You glare at her, though there’s no heat in it. "You took her to the front lines!" you scold, still holding Lythaera tightly. "She’s two years old, Minthara!"

"She loved it," Minthara replies, entirely unrepentant. "She helped her mother slaughter Seldarine scum, didn't you my little terror?"

Minthara coos and swiped some dirt from Lythaera's cheek. You open your mouth to scold her again, but a familiar voice interrupts.

"Has anyone seen my dearests?" Lesaonar asks, striding toward you with an anxious frown. Before Minthara can answer, Melinoe emerges from the crowd with a confident smirk, a little dirtied but unharmed.

"Calm yourself, Lesaonar," Melinoe chides, her voice teasing yet affectionate, though there’s a hint of exasperation beneath. "You fret more than an old priestess in a temple."

Before Lesaonar can respond, three small figures dart out from behind her, their excitement palpable. Lira, Sarae, and Viroen rush toward their father with all the unrestrained energy only children possess, their faces lit up with joy and pride. In an instant, they collide with him, nearly knocking him off his feet as they all wrap their little arms around him. Only six years in age, but as spirited as eager warriors.

“Papa! Papa!” they exclaim in unison, their voices rising in a chorus of excitement. Lesaonar laughs, the tension melting from his features as he wraps his arms around his triplets.

"Well, what’s all this? Did my brave little warriors come back victorious?" he asks, his tone warm and doting.

"We got to use weapons!" Lira announces proudly, her ruby eyes sparkling. She holds up a tiny dagger, less of a toy and more like an actual weapon, brandishing it with all the seriousness of a seasoned warrior. "Mama said I was really good with it!"

"I wasn’t scared at all!" Sarae adds, puffing out her chest, clearly trying to look as fearless as possible. "I even hit a Seldarine warrior!"

Viroen, usually the quietest, grins up at his father, holding out his own little weapon. "I did too, Papa! Just like you showed me!"

Lesaonar’s face softens with pride, and he ruffles each of their hair affectionately.

"You all did wonderfully," he praises. "But you must always remember to be careful, yes? Even the bravest warriors know when to be cautious."

Melinoe smirks, crossing her arms. "They were perfect, just like their mother," she declares, and Lesaonar rolls his eyes, but there’s an undeniable warmth in the way he looks at her. As the chaos of the family reunion continues, Minthara nudges you gently with her elbow.

"You know," she says, her voice low and teasing, "that will be Lythaera soon enough. Charging into battle with her weapon, ready to take on the world."

You clutch Lythaera a little closer to your chest, her tiny head nestled under your chin, as if shielding her from the very idea. Lythaera squirms slightly, reaching out to the chaos of her cousins.

"Absolutely not," you murmur, pressing a kiss to her soft hair. "She’ll be a sorceress like her mama. No weapons, no front lines."

Minthara rolls her eyes but there’s a tenderness in her gaze as she watches you.

"You’re going to coddle her," she says, though there’s no real reproach in her tone.

"She’s two," you retort, not willing to concede this point. With a playful sigh, Minthara leans in, her lips brushing just above your ear.

"You coddle her because you’re afraid she’ll be too much like me," she whispers, her breath warm against your skin. And for a moment, you’re tempted to give in, to let her steal that kiss. But you catch yourself, just in time, and press a finger to her lips.

"Only good wives get kisses," you say with a smirk, watching as her eyes narrow in playful indignation.

She lets out an exaggerated scoff, though the corners of her mouth twitch with amusement. "Is that so? And what makes a good wife, pray tell?"

You lean in, just close enough that she can feel the warmth of your breath against her skin, and whisper, "A good wife doesn’t sneak her daughter to the front lines of battle."

Minthara laughs, a genuine, rich sound that echoes off the cavern walls. She shakes her head, amused, and presses a gentle kiss to Lythaera’s forehead.

As you turn to leave, Lythaera still snug in your arms, Minthara takes a swift step closer, her hand sliding to the back of your neck. Before you can protest, she pulls you in, capturing your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. It’s as if she’s pouring all her relief and love into that single moment, and for a heartbeat, you forget everything else. When she finally pulls back, there’s a sly smile on her lips, her eyes glinting with that familiar spark.

“Stealing kisses now?” you murmur, breathless, a hand still lingering on her waist. Minthara shrugs, utterly unrepentant.

“It’s not stealing if it’s already mine,” she retorts, tracing a finger along your jawline. You can only shake your head, torn between amusement and exasperation.

“I have to tend to Lythaera,” you say, though your voice is softer, warmer now.

“I’ll be waiting,” Minthara replies, giving you one last lingering look before you finally pull away, turning your full attention to your daughter.

You make your way back to your quarters, Lythaera babbling happily in your arms. Her small hands reach out to pat your cheeks, her eyes bright with the excitement that only a two-year-old can muster. Oh how Lolth had blessed you.

Once there, you set her down carefully, insisting on washing and changing her yourself. Despite the servants’ offers to assist, you wave them away; this is your moment, your duty as a mother. As you wash her tiny hands and feet, you patiently guide her through the words she’s learning.

“Water,” you say, pointing to the bowl, and she repeats it clumsily, her little voice full of concentration.

“Cloth,” you say, and she parrots back, a proud grin spreading across her face.

But then, without fail, she lets out a delighted “Fight!”

Her eyes shine with a fierceness that’s far too familiar, and you can’t help but smile. She’s so much like Minthara, already so determined, so fearless. You sigh and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You are your mother’s daughter, little one.”

Once Lythaera is fresh, dressed, and properly tended to, you lift her up and make your way back to Minthara. The halls of the stronghold echo with the familiar sounds of Drow life—steel against steel, the whispered incantations of sorceresses, and the scurrying of servants. As you turn a corner, you nearly collide with Kyorlin, who seems momentarily startled, his eyes flicking from you to Lythaera.

“Brother,” you greet, your voice warm. “Out and about?”

Kyorlin shifts awkwardly, his gaze lingering on Lythaera before darting away, as if unsure of how to handle the tiny bundle in your arms. Since returning from the front lines and serving in the house guard, Kyorlin had somewhat settled, yet you always felt a level of detachment from him, that even extended to his nieces and nephews.

“She’s… grown,” he says haltingly, as if uncertain of how to proceed. His words are awkward, but you can see the effort he’s making, the genuine attempt to connect.

“She has,” you agree, gently bouncing Lythaera on your hip. “She’s just like her mother, strong, lively.”

Kyorlin gives a faint, wry smile at that. “I have no doubt.” There’s a pause, and then his expression shifts, growing more serious. “I wanted to let you know—I’ll be taking an excursion to the front lines. There’s word of movement from the Seldarine forces, and it requires my attention.”

Your heart sinks a little. “But you’ll miss the anniversary ball,” you say quietly, a pang of disappointment threading through your voice.

Kyorlin’s gaze softens, though his tone remains resolute. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be there, truly. But you know as well as I do that duty comes first.”

You nod, understanding but still saddened, your own emotions distracting you from the way his sincerity seems so forced. “Just… come back safely, alright?”

He inclines his head, and for a moment, you catch the flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes.

“I will. Take care of her,” he adds, glancing pointedly at Lythaera, who is now trying to grab at the strands of your hair.

“I always do,” you reply with a smile, and for a moment, he looks as if he wants to say more, but instead he simply gives a small nod and steps aside, allowing you to pass. You watch him go for a moment, then turn your attention back to your daughter.

“You’ll see Uncle Kyorlin soon, I promise,” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

She simply giggles and repeats, “Fight!” one last time, and you can’t help but laugh as you continue on your way to find Minthara once more.

As you near Minthara’s study, you pause just outside the doorway, taking a moment to compose yourself. Despite the years you’ve spent together, there’s still something about seeing her that sets your heart aflame.

Pushing open the door, you find Minthara seated at her desk, looking at the array of documents and scrolls that had found their way to her in her absence, her armor still adorned with fresh battle marks. When she looks up and sees you standing there, her entire face softens, a warmth spreading through her eyes that she reserves for you and Lythaera alone.

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite girls,” she says, setting down the parchment. “Did you miss me, my darling?” Her gaze drops to Lythaera, who immediately reaches out, making grabby hands toward her mother. Minthara’s expression turns even more adoring, and she rises to take the little one from your arms.

“You do look adorable, my little spider,” she coos, pressing a kiss to Lythaera’s forehead as she settles in her lap. “But I must say, you looked far cuter in your battle armor.”

You let out an exaggerated groan. "Minthara," you chide, though there’s no real bite to your words. “We’ve talked about this. She’s not supposed to have battle armor. She’s not even out of her toddler years.”

Minthara smirks, her eyes never leaving Lythaera’s. "She wore it well," she murmurs, tracing her thumb over Lythaera's cheek. “Our little warrior.”

You take a step closer, lowering your voice. “If you want to sleep in the same bed as me tonight, you won’t take my grace and patience for granted,” you whisper, your tone playful yet carrying just a hint of a warning.

Minthara chuckles, and her eyes glint mischievously as she pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deliberate, savoring every second of contact. She tastes of salt and steel, and you melt into her, letting her lead until she finally pulls back, lips curling into a smirk.

“Your grace and patience are what I live for, my love,” she murmurs, voice husky with affection. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face, but you sober slightly, moving on to more pressing matters.

“Kyorlin won’t be attending the wedding anniversary ball in a few days,” you say, watching for her reaction. Minthara arches an eyebrow, feigning shock.

“Oh, no,” she drawls, placing a hand to her chest and looks to Lythaera who stares up at her with wide red eyes. “Whatever will we do without him, my spiderling? I’m positively heartbroken.”

Her attempt at looking devastated is so over the top that you can’t help but snort in amusement.

“He’s a war cleric of Lolth, Minthara,” you remind her, though you’re well aware that she knows this. “He serves House Baenre more faithfully than any other. He's going as support for the front lines.”

“Does he?” she retorts, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “I find it strange that no one mentioned any need for extra soldiers on the front line. Perhaps a lucky miscommunication on his part?”

There’s a subtle edge to her tone, one you’ve heard countless times when she’s probing for weaknesses. You roll your eyes, not rising to the bait. At least not in front of your daughter.

“He is your brother-in-law,” you remind her. “You could show him a little more kindness.”

“I don’t trust him,” Minthara replies bluntly, and for once, the playful veneer drops. There’s genuine concern in her eyes, a protective glimmer that makes your heart ache. “There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t care how many battles he’s fought for Baenre or how, in the great mother's web, he got Lolth's favour.”

"He shares the same blood as I do, Lolth's blood, Minthara," You sigh, reaching out to take her hand. “Kyorlin has had a past, I agree but since then, he has never given us a reason to doubt him. He’s been loyal.”

“Loyal to whom?” she counters, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You, perhaps. But not to me. And I won’t take any chances where our family is concerned.”

Minthara, holds Lythaera closer to her and you squeeze her hand, the weight of her words settling between you. Minthara’s fingers absentmindedly trace patterns along your arm, her eyes narrowing slightly as she is physically unable to drop the matter.

“You know, I’ve never once seen Kyorlin at chapel,” she mutters, clearly unwilling to let the topic of your brother drop entirely.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “And I barely see you at chapel,” you retort with a smirk. Instead of defending herself, Minthara merely tilts her head, lips quirking up in triumph.

“You didn't disagree with me,” she says, as if that proves her point beyond doubt. She makes to continue her tirade, but you silence her with a sudden kiss, the kind that leaves her momentarily breathless, her words forgotten. Lythaera giggles happily and you pull back just enough to look into her eyes.

“Let’s not forget how this marriage of ours started,” you murmur, voice soft but edged with steel. “You slaughtered my entire family because you were essentially bored and wanted to flaunt your power. And while I didn’t care much for most of them, I did care for my brothers—Kyorlin and Lesaonar. Perhaps Kyorlin still hasn’t entirely forgiven that.”

Minthara rolls her eyes, letting out a dismissive huff. “That was years ago,” she replies, sounding entirely unrepentant. “And besides, you don’t care. Lesaonar doesn’t care. He’s thriving here in House Baenre, basking in his new position and status. He is favoured by all of the elders of the house, a feat that not even I have achieved."

You nod in agreement but hold her gaze, refusing to let her off the hook. “That might be true, but you need to at least take Kyorlin’s feelings into consideration. Not everyone is as willing to move on as we are.”

Minthara grumbles under her breath, something low and unintelligible. You arch an eyebrow, smirking. “What was that?”

She clears her throat and replies, “Yes, my love.”

You let out a bark of laughter, shaking your head. “Liar. That’s not what you said.”

Minthara only smirks back, tilting her chin up defiantly but not bothering to correct you. The lightheartedness between you is a familiar comfort, a balm to the chaos that often surrounds your lives. You lean across and pick up Lythaera from Minthara's lap, hesitating as you brush a stray lock of hair from her face and ask, “How long until you come to bed?”

She sighs as she relinquishes Lythaera to you, looking toward her desk, which is stacked with scrolls and ledgers.

“I have a few matron duties to catch up on,” she admits. “But I shouldn’t be too long.” She pauses, her gaze sharpening with playful sternness. “However, I better not find Lythaera in our bed when I return.”

You can’t help but pout. “She’s had a big day, Minthara,” you protest, knowing full well where this is going. “She needs comfort.”

“She needs to learn how to sleep in her own bed,” Minthara counters, crossing her arms and fixing you with a mock stern glare. “And you’re the worst at it, always giving in and letting her stay with us. How am I meant to instill that Baenrae savagery if she cannot even stay in her own bed?"

You try to hold out, completely ignoring Minthara's words, but her expression is unwavering, a mix of exasperation and affection. Finally, you let out a resigned sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“Fine,” you grumble, already missing the idea of your daughter’s tiny warmth snuggled against you. “But if she cries—”

“Then you will have to be strong,” Minthara interjects, her lips twitching into a smile. “And besides, I’ll be back before you know it.”

She leans in to steal one last kiss, and for a moment, you feel that familiar spark between you, the one that’s never faded, no matter how much time has passed.

“Go,” you whisper against her lips, reluctantly pulling away. “Tend to your matron duties. I’ll be waiting.”

“Of course you will,” she teases, brushing her fingers against your cheek one last time before turning toward her desk. You watch her for a moment longer, feeling the warmth of her presence linger even as you make your way to the door, Lythaera still settled in your arms.

As you leave, you hear Minthara’s voice, quiet but full of affection. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight,” you reply, glancing back one last time before stepping out into the hall.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Minthara slips quietly into your quarters, her steps silent as a shadow. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of faerie fire casting long shadows across the walls. As she looks around, she’s puzzled to see the bed untouched, still neatly made. Her brow furrows, and a flicker of concern tugs at her. She scans the room, her eyes narrowing until she catches the faint light coming from the nursery.

She steps into the adjoining room, and her heart warms at the sight before her. You’re there, sitting by Lythaera’s cot, your gaze soft and tender as you watch over your sleeping daughter. There’s a serene smile on your lips, and when you look up to see her standing there, you offer her a knowing, mischievous grin.

“I didn’t break the deal,” you whisper, tilting your head toward the crib. “She’s not in our bed.”

Minthara lets out an exasperated sigh, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“You’re incorrigible,” she mutters, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you to your feet. “Overprotective to the point of being tedious.”

There’s a warmth in her voice, though, and you can see the affection shining in her eyes.

“You weren’t any better when I was pregnant with her,” you counter, letting her guide you back to the bedroom. “You practically treated me like I was made of spun glass.”

Minthara’s eyes soften at the memory, and she hums thoughtfully.

“You were carrying our first child,” she says, as if that explains everything. “I would have burned the Underdark to keep you safe.” Her fingers brush against your cheek, her touch lingering, and her eyes take on a familiar, mischievous glint. “Perhaps I should get you pregnant again,” she murmurs, a slow, wicked smile spreading across her lips. “You were quite radiant, carrying my child.”

You draw in a breath, steadying yourself as you prepare to speak the words you’ve been holding back.

“What if I already am?” you say softly, watching her face closely. “I’ve been late—by a month. I’m seeing the healers in the morning to confirm it.”

Minthara’s eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks utterly stunned, as if she’s trying to process the enormity of your words.

“You’re… you’re serious?” she breathes, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. You nod, biting your lip as you try to keep your own emotions in check.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure,” you admit. “But… I think I might be.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Minthara lets out a shaky, incredulous laugh, her arms tightening around you.

“You’re really…?” She doesn’t finish the sentence, as if she’s afraid that saying it out loud will somehow break the spell.

“I think so,” you whisper, and that’s all it takes for her to pull you into a fierce, almost desperate embrace. She presses her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours as she closes her eyes, trying to absorb the reality of it.

“You’re giving me another child,” she murmurs, almost as if she can’t quite believe it. “You’re giving us another child.”

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes as she cups your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the stray drops that have started to fall. She leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips that’s both tender and passionate, pouring all her love and gratitude into that single gesture.

“You’ll be careful,” she whispers against your lips, her tone shifting to that fierce protectiveness you’ve come to know so well. “No more taking risks, no more unnecessary fretting. I won’t have you endangering yourself or our child.”

You laugh softly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

“I’ll be as careful as you let me be,” you promise, and she nods, though there’s still a hint of worry lingering in her eyes. "I'm not the one sneaking our two year old out onto the front lines."

“Point taken,” she murmurs, drawing you closer, her lips finding yours once more.

At that moment, with her arms wrapped around you and the promise of a new life growing within you, you feel a warmth settle over you, deeper and more enduring than any spell. Minthara pulls away and rests her forehead against yours.

"We’re going to the infirmary now," she declares, leaving no room for argument and she takes your hand, leading you out into the corridors. You laugh, trying to keep up with her hurried pace as she all but drags you through the winding corridors of the stronghold.

“Minthara, it’s practically the middle of the night,” you protest, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. Her eagerness is infectious, and despite the hour, you can’t help but feel your own excitement bubbling to the surface.

“I don’t care if it’s the middle of the Spider Queen’s web,” Minthara replies, glancing over her shoulder with a determined glint in her eyes. “I won’t wait a moment longer. I need to know if Lolth has blessed us again.”

You can’t help but smile at the fervor in her voice. It’s rare to see her this openly vulnerable, this eager, and you find yourself falling even more in love with her in that moment.

When you finally reach the infirmary, the dimly lit room is quiet, save for the soft hum of magic that always lingers in the air. A single healer, a middle-aged drow woman with silver hair and a no-nonsense expression, looks up in surprise as the two of you burst through the door.

“Mistress, Matron,” the healer greets, bowing her head respectfully. “What brings you here at such an hour?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minthara snaps, her impatience overriding her usual courtesy. She points to you, her eyes flashing with urgency. “We need you to confirm if she’s with child. Now.”

The healer’s eyes widen, but she quickly regains her composure, nodding as she gestures for you to take a seat on one of the low, cushioned benches.

“Of course,” she says calmly, already moving to gather her tools. “This won’t take long.”

Minthara hovers anxiously at your side, her fingers tapping a rapid rhythm against her thigh. You reach out to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she squeezes back so tightly you’re almost certain she’s forgotten her own strength.

“Patience,” you murmur, smiling up at her. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Minthara replies, though her voice is tight, her eyes never leaving the healer as she begins her examination.

The healer works efficiently, murmuring incantations under her breath as her hands glow with a soft, warm light. She hovers her hands just above your abdomen, the magic tingling against your skin, and you hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest.

Minthara’s grip on your hand tightens even more, and you feel her trembling slightly, though she’s trying her best to hide it. Finally, the healer’s magic fades, and she steps back with a smile.

“Congratulations, Matron,” she says, bowing her head once more. “The signs are clear. Lolth has indeed blessed you with another child.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your eyes widening in wonder. Minthara’s reaction, however, is far more intense. A joyous, triumphant laugh bursts from her lips, echoing through the infirmary as she sweeps you up into her arms, twirling you around as if you weigh nothing at all.

“Did you hear that?” she exclaims, her voice full of awe and delight. “You’re carrying our child—our second child!” She presses fervent kisses against your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, any part of you she can reach. “I knew it! I knew Lolth would bless us again!”

You can’t help but laugh at her exuberance, your own heart soaring with happiness as you cling to her, your arms wrapped around her neck.

“Yes, yes, Minthara, I heard,” you say, tears of joy pricking at your eyes. “We’re going to have another child.”

The healer steps forward, her expression warm as she offers her congratulations.

“It’s a great honor,” she says, her tone reverent. “The Spider Queen has chosen to bless you both once more. May her web guide and protect this child as it grows.”

“Thank you,” you manage to say, still breathless from the whirlwind of emotions. Minthara barely acknowledges the healer’s words, too caught up in the moment to care about anything but you and the life growing inside you.

As the healer steps back, giving Minthara and you space to process the news, you feel the familiar shift in Minthara’s demeanor. That protective intensity, always just beneath the surface, rises in her like a tidal wave—her eyes narrowing as she turns her full attention to the healer.

“I want the best care for her,” Minthara declares, her voice like steel, sharp and unwavering. “Only the finest healers, the most potent enchantments. If any harm comes to her or the child, I will personally see to it that heads will roll.” Her hand tightens around yours possessively, as if to reaffirm her claim on you—her wife, her treasure.

The healer, sensing the shift, bows her head deeply, her voice measured and cautious. “Of course, Matron. The Mistress will receive nothing but the highest level of care. I will see to it personally.”

Minthara’s gaze sharpens even further, her tone laced with a deadly calm.

“You will ensure it,” she corrects, her lips pulling into a slight sneer. “If I find out otherwise, I will not hesitate to remind everyone in this House that the well-being of my family is paramount. Failure is not an option.”

You roll your eyes, suppressing a smirk at Minthara’s over-the-top threats. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her get like this. Her ferocious protectiveness over you and now your unborn child always had a way of turning every healer’s visit into a dramatic affair.

“Here we go again,” you mutter under your breath, amusement tugging at the corners of your mouth. Minthara catches your eye, and for a brief moment, the tension melts away as she narrows her gaze at you in mock indignation.

“What?” she asks, feigning offense. “I’m just ensuring your safety, my love. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “For you threatening to slaughter every healer who so much as looks at me wrong? Yes, I feel so very safe.” You give her a playful shove, and Minthara huffs, though the glint of amusement in her eyes betrays her.

“They should take you seriously,” she mutters, her gaze darting back to the healer, who looks like she’s trying her best not to tremble. “The mistress’ well-being is the utmost priority. I won’t tolerate anything less than perfection.”

“Oh, Minthara,” you sigh, shaking your head fondly. “You were just as bad when I was pregnant with Lythaera.”

“And rightly so,” Minthara replies, her arm slipping around your waist again, drawing you closer as if you were fragile. “Look how perfect she turned out, my little heiress, and now there's another one on the way.”

There’s pride in her voice now, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of your daughter, Lythaera, sleeping soundly back in her nursery. The thought of her having a sibling warms your heart.

“Just remember,” you murmur, leaning into her as you glance up at her face. “I’m not made of glass. I survived the Underdark, remember?”

Minthara snorts at that, her grip on you tightening as her lips press against the top of your head.

“Still,” she says softly, “you’re my wife. You’re carrying my child again, and I won’t take any chances. Not now, not ever.”

The healer, sensing the conversation is coming to a close, offers another deep bow. “I will prepare everything for the matron’s care immediately,” she assures you both, her voice filled with sincerity. “The best healers in the House will be available at all times.”

Minthara gives a curt nod, though her eyes linger on the healer for a moment longer, as if silently warning her one last time. When the healer finally leaves the room, Minthara turns her full attention back to you, her expression softening.

“I mean it,” she whispers, her forehead resting against yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. You and our child.”

You smile up at her, your heart swelling with love. “I know,” you reply, brushing a hand against her cheek. “And I love you for it. But you need to trust that I can handle myself. We’ll be fine, Minthara. You don’t have to threaten to slaughter anyone this time.”

Minthara chuckles softly at that, her fingers tracing delicate patterns along your back.

“We’ll see,” she says, her tone teasing but still laced with that fierce protectiveness that defines her. “But I make no promises.”

You roll your eyes again, laughing softly as you pull her in for another kiss, knowing that beneath all the bluster and threats, Minthara’s love for you is as deep and unwavering as ever. And in this moment, surrounded by her fierce devotion and the warmth of her arms, you feel truly safe—protected by the arachnidian dragon guarding its most precious hoard.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The next morning, the grand dining hall of the House echoes with the low hum of conversation and the clatter of silverware. Minthara had summoned the inner circle of the family to breakfast—a rare occasion for such a gathering, and you could feel the anticipation in the air. Lythaera sat at your side, happily playing with a small toy spider, her giggles occasionally breaking the morning quiet.

Minthara, ever the commanding presence, stood at the head of the table, her gaze sweeping across the room as Melinoe, Lesaonar, their triplets, and finally Kyorlin took their places. You had also forced Minthara to invite her siblings and their broods, though she really could not care for them, you wanted to keep the family connections nurtured. The moment Minthara speaks, the room falls silent.

“I have called you all here this morning because Lolth has once again blessed us with her favor,” she announces, her voice rich with pride. Her hand finds yours beneath the table, squeezing it gently as she continues. “My beloved wife is with child. We will soon welcome another into our House.”

There’s a moment of stillness, a breath caught in time, before the room erupts in cheers and congratulations. Even Kyorlin, who rarely showed much in the way of emotion, manages a small, restrained smile—though Minthara notes that it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Lesaonar is on his feet in an instant, a wide grin splitting his face. He strides over and wraps you in a tight hug, careful not to squeeze too hard but still radiating warmth and excitement.

His voice is filled with genuine joy as he speaks. “Sister, this is wonderful news! Every morning, I shall offer my prayers to the Spider Queen that she blesses you with triplets, so you may know the unmatched joy of wrangling three children at once.”

You let out a mock groan, playfully swatting his arm as you scowl at him.

“Triplets? No thank you, Lesaonar. I've seen how much ‘joy’ your trio brings you.” Your eyes flick to his triplets, who at this very moment are arguing over a piece of bread, and you raise a brow. “I think one child at a time is enough chaos for me.”

Lesaonar laughs, unbothered by your teasing, his love for his children shining through even as he jokingly shakes his head. “You say that now, but trust me. You’ll come to love the madness.”

Minthara’s siblings offer their own congratulations, though more reserved - primarily out of fear of their elder sibling, their children do the same. There is a definite difference between the way Minthara's family behaves and those related to you. Minthara's family acts with a deadly reverence, instilled in them from years of training, and comfort drawn from the presence of family is unknown to them.

Melinoe, is perhaps the only exception, and that was due to her marriage to Lesaonar, he had clearly worn off on her. Their marriage had been driven by Melinoe's unexpected pregnancy - which was a surprise to all. Women in House Baenre were not required to marry, to bind themselves to their offspring's father. Child mortality rates in drow houses were particularly high so reproduction with multiple partners (usually concubines) was encouraged - marriage, a sacred rite, gets in the way of that.

When Lesaonar heard the news that Melinoe was expecting he was prepared to provide whatever Melinoe demanded of him. If Melinoe wanted to give the unborn child to him so she could focus on her work and live her life, unburdened by the child, he was prepared for it. If she wanted to get rid of the child altogether, he was prepared for it. If she wanted to run off with someone else and raise the child without him, he was, begrudgingly, prepared for it. This was the way of life for him

What he was not prepared for was for Melinoe to propose, to claim him as her own, to love and serve him and be loved and served in return. Lesaonar had lived quite a rakish lifestyle before becoming romantically entangled with Melinoe, but since then he had fallen terribly and awfully in love with her and Melinoe had done the same.

You had been thrilled by the news, congratulating both of them, whereas Minthara had Melinoe checked for head trauma. Suggesting that perhaps pregnancy had taken a toll on her sanity. Melinoe assured her cousin that it had not and that this is what they both wanted. They had a small yet lavish ceremony, and although Lesaonar changed his last name to Baenre (an act that caused Kyorlin to sulk for at least a month), it was Melinoe had been thrown into your family. You grew close to her and became someone she could rely on during her pregnancy, to drink as a placebo for her when she found out they were having triplets.

"Congratulations Mistress, how I can only share in my dear husband's sentiment and wish you the sheer blessing of triplets, or who knows with lolth's favor, you may even have quadruplets!" Melinoe smiled, the mischief gleaming in her eyes. How playfully slighted she had felt when you delivered one child, instead of the three she had been blessed with.

"What a wonderful thought, wife, I shall pray for quadruplets instead," Lesaonar smirked, and you shook your head in exasperation, a hand on your abdomen. You don't think you could handle Lythaera and then an additional four miniatures, you and Mintharas.

You continue to joke with Lesaonar and Melinoe, a few of Minthara's family members coming over to congratulate you personally. There’s a peaceful harmony to the moment, as family comes together to celebrate the new life growing inside you. Yet, there’s an undercurrent of tension—one that you feel when Kyorlin finally rises from his seat.

Kyorlin approaches, his movements deliberate and calm. His expression is softer than usual, but there’s a cool detachment in his eyes as he offers his hand to you.

“Congratulations,” he says quietly, his voice measured. “It is good to hear such joyous news. And with this, I’ll delay my trip to the front lines for a little while longer. I’d like to be here to see the child born.”

There’s something in his tone, something that doesn’t quite sit right with you. It’s as though he’s speaking of some distant obligation rather than his own flesh and blood. Still, you smile at him, pushing aside the strange feeling and putting it down to the seedling of doubt Minthara had planted in your mind.

“Thank you, Kyorlin,” you say sincerely, resting a hand on his arm. “It means a lot to me that you’d stay.”

Before you can say anything more, Minthara’s voice cuts in, sharp and edged with amusement. “Delaying your trip to the front lines, Kyorlin? Lolth has blessed us once more.”

You elbow Minthara, casting her a warning glance. She smirks but falls silent, though her eyes linger on Kyorlin with a knowing glint. It was no secret that Kyorlin had always been a bit of an outlier in the family—distant, detached, never fully committing to life in the House.

Kyorlin, however, doesn’t rise to Minthara’s bait. Instead, he nods politely at you both and returns to his seat, his movements calm, almost too calm, as if this entire moment were just another duty he must fulfill. As he sits, he folds his hands in his lap, staring at the table rather than engaging with the lively conversation around him.

You can’t help but wonder if his mind is elsewhere—far from the joy of family, but you soothe yourself thinking his thoughts are devoted to Lolth. It was no easy feat to become a male cleric of Lolth, but your brother had managed it, and for that, you were proud of him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The garden is alive with the gentle rustling of leaves and the delicate scent of night-blooming flowers. You sit on a cushioned bench, Lythaera nestled beside you, her little fingers tracing the veins of a petal with childlike curiosity. The two of you are wrapped in a rare moment of peace, bathed in the soft glow of faerie lights that illuminate the garden paths. You smile, watching as Lythaera giggles, reaching for a luminous butterfly that flutters just out of her grasp.

It’s then that you sense them—the subtle shift in the air, the almost inaudible whisper of footsteps approaching. You look up, and there they are: the Mistress's Guard, a group of young women who once stood by your side when they were mere children themselves, now grown into a disciplined and formidable sect.

At their head stands Verona, her dark eyes sharp and alert, her movements as graceful as a panther. Clad in sleek armor that glistens under the bioluminescence of the underdark, she steps forward and bows, her gaze unwavering.

“Mistress,” Verona greets, her voice soft yet carrying the unmistakable strength of command. “The guard congratulates you on the news of your pregnancy. It is a great honor to know that another of your blood will soon walk among us.” Her eyes flicker to Lythaera, and a warm, genuine smile crosses her face before she straightens again, her demeanor professional once more.

You offer her a warm smile, touched by the sincerity in her words. “Thank you, Verona. Your congratulations mean a great deal to me.”

Verona’s expression doesn’t waver, but there’s a slight shift in her stance, a hesitation, as if there’s more she wants to say. You tilt your head, curious, and wait for her to continue. She exchanges a brief glance with the other members of the guard, who stand at attention, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Then, as if coming to a decision, Verona speaks again.

“The Matron has issued orders for the guard to increase our presence around you, Mistress,” she says carefully. “Especially now that you are with child. She wants to ensure your safety, the safety of the unborn, and of course, the heiress, Lady Lythaera”

You blink, momentarily taken aback, before letting out a small, exasperated sigh. “Of course, she has,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head. “Thank you, Verona. I appreciate the care.”

The guard, however, doesn’t move to leave, and you feel their watchful eyes on you, as if waiting for something more. Realization dawns, and you can’t help but chuckle, despite the slight irritation that begins to creep into your chest. You turn back to Verona, arching an eyebrow.

“Let me guess,” you say dryly, “when you say you’re increasing your presence, you mean that Minthara has decided I cannot even be in my own garden with my daughter without a small army at my back?”

Verona’s lips twitch in the faintest hint of a smile, but she does not look away. “The Matron is… thorough in her concern,” she replies diplomatically. “She insists that we remain vigilant, especially given recent events.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Recent events,” you repeat, incredulous. “I’m hardly in any danger standing amongst roses with my daughter, Verona. I doubt the Seldarine are posing as fungi.”

“There are threats, Mistress, that lurk even in the safest of places,” Verona responds, her tone respectful but unyielding. “The Matron merely wishes to ensure that you, the child and the heiress are protected from all possible harm.”

You sigh, feeling a mix of warmth and exasperation at Minthara’s overprotectiveness.

“Minthara has always been… diligent,” you murmur, almost to yourself. You take a moment to study Verona’s face, the determined set of her jaw, and the unwavering loyalty in her eyes.

There’s something almost touching about it, the way she stands so ready to defend you, a far cry from the young girl who once followed you with wide, curious eyes. The girl you had to protect from her own mother. Valindra was long gone now, perished in a skirmish, no love was lost and no one had attended her funeral out of anything but duty.

“You’re all grown up now,” you say softly, your voice tinged with nostalgia. “I remember when you were but a child, always trailing behind me, insisting you’d be my protector one day.”

Verona’s expression softens, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of that young girl within her, her guard slipping ever so slightly.

“I made a promise, Mistress, we all did,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I intend to keep it. No matter how much time passes.”

You smile, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “I know. And I’m grateful for it. But you must understand, Verona—I do not need to be shadowed at every turn. I have always found strength in my independence, and I refuse to let that be stripped away, even now.”

Verona hesitates, clearly torn between her loyalty to you and her duty to Minthara.

“I understand, Mistress,” she finally says, though there’s a note of reluctance in her voice. “But… please, allow us to do our duty. If not for yourself, then for the heiress and the unborn child.”

You glance down at Lythaera, who has taken no notice of the conversation, still engrossed in her game of chasing the luminous butterflies. A soft sigh escapes you, and you nod, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. But please, tell Minthara that if I find you hiding in the shadows when I’m trying to take a bath, I’ll be having words with her.”

Verona can’t help but chuckle at that, and she bows once more. “Understood, Mistress. We will endeavor to respect your privacy… within reason.”

“Within reason,” you echo, shaking your head with a smile. “Very well, Verona. You may carry on, then.”

The guard disperses, though you can still feel their presence lingering at the edges of the garden, ever watchful. As you turn back to Lythaera, who now holds a butterfly delicately in her tiny hands, you feel a familiar warmth and exasperation rise in your chest. Minthara’s love for you was fierce, possessive, and sometimes overbearing—but it was always, always, there. And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but feel touched by it.

Even if it meant having an entire sect of guards breathing down your neck whenever you so much as stepped outside.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Minthara sits on the edge of the bed with Lythaera perched in front of her, the little girl fidgeting impatiently as her mother attempts to braid her hair. Minthara’s fingers are nimble but slightly clumsy—more accustomed to handling blades than delicate strands of hair—and her face is set in an expression of concentration as she tries to tame Lythaera's unruly curls. She lets out an exasperated sigh as yet another strand slips free from her grasp.

“You know,” Minthara grumbles, flicking her gaze to you as you fasten the last few clasps of your gown in front of the mirror, “we could have had a servant do this. It’s what they’re here for.”

You give her a pointed look, arching an eyebrow. “Minthara, if I hear you suggest that one more time, the anniversary ball will quickly become a divorce ball.”

Minthara lets out a dramatic huff, rolling her eyes in a way that reminds you so much of Lythaera when she’s being particularly stubborn.

“I know, I know,” she mutters, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “The Matron herself mustn’t raise a spoiled daughter.”

You walk over to them, your expression softening as you watch Minthara struggle with the braid.

“It’s not about spoiling her, my love,” you say gently, leaning down to kiss the top of Lythaera’s head. “It’s about teaching her that just because she’s of noble birth doesn’t mean she’s entitled to be waited on. She should understand the value of things, even the little things like having her hair done.”

Minthara sighs again, but there’s no real frustration in her voice, only a begrudging understanding.

“Yes, yes,” she murmurs, continuing to braid. She bends down to Lythaera’s level, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, little one, your mother is quite demanding. You’re lucky I love her as much as I do.”

Lythaera giggles, nodding vigorously. She is not entirely sure what at, but it makes her mother's smile widen.

“Oh, so it’s a conspiracy against me now, is it?” you tease, crossing your arms and tilting your head at Minthara. “Well, perhaps you should hurry up with that braid before I change my mind about that divorce.”

Minthara’s smile turns playful, her eyes shining with mischief.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she challenges, finishing off the braid with a flourish. She secures it with a delicate ribbon, the same shade of violet as Lythaera’s dress, and sits back with a satisfied smirk. “There. Finished.”

“Thank oo!" Lythaera chirps, turning around and beaming up at her.

“Anything for you, my little warrior,” Minthara replies, ruffling her daughter’s hair affectionately before helping her off the bed.

As Lythaera scurries off to fetch her toy sword (which she insisted on bringing, despite your best attempts to convince her otherwise), you turn back to the mirror for a final check of your gown. You smooth down the fabric, the rich, deep green silk catching the light in waves.

The gown is a masterpiece, fitted to perfection, with delicate embroidery of silver spider webs trailing down the sides, shimmering subtly as you move. The neckline plunges daringly, while the sleeves drape elegantly off your shoulders, and the fabric clings to your body in a way that leaves little to the imagination.

When you finally turn to face Minthara, you find her staring at you, utterly transfixed. Her eyes roam over every inch of you, from the soft curls that cascade down your back to the curve of your waist, and the way the gown hugs your form like a second skin. It’s as if she’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“By Lolth,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You look… exquisite.”

You can feel the heat of her gaze as it lingers on you, and your heart flutters in response.

“It’s just a dress,” you say lightly, though the way she’s looking at you makes it feel like so much more.

“It’s not the dress,” Minthara murmurs, closing the distance between you. “It’s you.” She reaches out, her fingers tracing the line of your collarbone, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “You look like a goddess.”

"Don't let Lolth hear you say that," You smile, your cheeks warming under her intense gaze, and you can’t help but tease her just a little. “I thought you’d be used to this by now,” you say, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. “We’ve been married for years.”

Minthara shakes her head, a soft, reverent smile tugging at her lips.

“And every day, you still manage to take my breath away,” she whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, slow and lingering. Her hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you forget about the ball, the responsibilities, and the eyes that will be on you tonight. All that matters is her—this woman who holds your heart, who looks at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.

You pull back with a soft chuckle, pressing your forehead against hers. “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, we’ll never make it to this ball.”

Minthara groans, but she’s grinning, her eyes sparkling with love. “I suppose we should make an appearance,” she concedes, though it’s clear she’d much rather stay right here with you. “It is, after all, our night.”

“Our night,” you agree, pressing one last kiss to her lips. “And we’ll make it one to remember.”

Minthara nods, reluctantly letting you go, but not before trailing her fingers down your arm, savoring the feel of your skin one last time.

“Come, my love,” she murmurs, offering you her arm. “Let us show them what true power looks like.”

The grand hall of House Baenre is resplendent with shimmering lights and elaborate decorations, its high vaulted ceilings draped with silk banners bearing the house’s sigil: a spider, woven from threads of silver and black, its eyes glistening as if they truly held the light of the stars. Nobles and high-ranking drow from all corners of the Underdark gather, their opulent attire sparkling in the light of the chandelier made entirely of glowing faerie fire. The air is thick with the hum of hushed whispers and the clinking of crystal goblets, but all noise falls to a hush as the herald steps forward to announce your arrival.

“Presenting, Matron Minthara Baenre, her Mistress, and their daughter, the young heiress of House Baenre, Lythaera,” the herald proclaims, his voice echoing through the hall.

You stand at the top of the staircase with Minthara at your side and Lythaera holding your hand. You feel her tiny fingers gripping yours tightly, her eyes widening as the crowd below turns to look up at you. The weight of so many eyes, so many expectations, is daunting, and you can see the flicker of nervousness cross her face as she tries to hide behind your gown, the silken fabric bunching around her as she presses against your leg. You kneel down to her level, keeping your voice soft and reassuring.

“Lythaera, you are a Baenre,” you whisper, brushing a stray curl from her face. “You are strong, and you are loved. And everyone here is waiting to see just how wonderful you are. Will you show them?”

Her large eyes meet yours, searching, and slowly she nods. You give her a warm smile and a gentle kiss on her forehead before standing back up. Taking a deep breath, Lythaera steps forward, no longer hiding, and you feel a swell of pride as she walks beside you, her little chin held high just as you taught her.

Minthara watches this exchange with a soft smile tugging at her lips, her eyes glimmering with pride and love. She gives your hand a small squeeze before you both begin your descent down the grand staircase, with Lythaera walking beside you. The crowd parts as you reach the bottom, and you feel their eyes on you, filled with awe, respect, and, in some cases, envy. There is a sense of power in that moment, knowing that you and Minthara have built something truly formidable, something worth revering.

The room bursts into applause as you reach the floor, nobles bowing their heads in deference. The sound is overwhelming, but Lythaera stands tall, no longer shrinking under the weight of it. You guide her through the crowd toward Lesaonar and Melinoe, who are standing near one of the grand pillars, their triplets bouncing excitedly as they spot their little cousin.

“Look who’s here!” Lesaonar says, scooping up Lythaera in his arms as she giggles. “The little lady of the hour!”

Lythaera laughs, her earlier shyness melting away in the presence of her cousins. She reaches out, tugging at the braid of one of the boys who sticks his tongue out at her, which only makes her laugh harder.

“Unka!” she squeals in delight, “too tight!”

“Am I?” Lesaonar chuckles, setting her back down. “I suppose I should be more careful with a future matron, hmm?”

“You’ll spoil her rotten,” Melinoe chides with a smile, though there’s warmth in her eyes as she looks at Lythaera. Her own daughter tugs at her skirts, eager to play with her cousin, and soon the four children are off to one side, chattering excitedly.

Lesaonar leans closer to you, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I saw Kyorlin skulking about earlier. He’s here somewhere, though I doubt he’ll stay in one place long enough for anyone to get a word in.”

“He always did like to make himself scarce at these events,” you reply with a knowing smile.

Melinoe arches an eyebrow, smirking as she sips her wine. “I’m just impressed he made the effort to show up at all,” she comments dryly.

Lesaonar shoots her a light scowl. “He’s family,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. “And he’ll always be welcome here, no matter what.”

The exchange is tense, but it’s quickly smoothed over as Minthara leans down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll mingle,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against your arm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Try not to get too caught up in Lesaonar's nonsense."

You smirk, leaning into her touch. “As if anyone else could ever compare,” you tease, earning a satisfied hum from Minthara before she straightens and steps into the crowd, already the center of attention.

However, the atmosphere at the ball shifts abruptly as heated words are exchanged between two drow noblemen. Their argument, initially nothing more than a raised voice or two, quickly escalates into shoving, and it’s not long before they’re on the verge of drawing weapons.

In the midst of the chaos, Sarae—who had been standing nearby, the five year old seemingly attracred to chaos—gets knocked over by one of them, landing hard on the ground. Her cry of pain rings out, and she scrambles to her feet, rushing to Lesaonar and Melinoe with tears in her eyes, clutching her head where she was struck. Lesaonar instantly scoops her up, his eyes darkening as he glances over at the commotion.

“Shh, my little one,” he murmurs, checking her for injuries. “You’re safe now.”

Melinoe soothes Sarae’s tears, holding her close as she glares at the noblemen who caused the injury.

“Fools,” she mutters under her breath. “Can’t even keep their tempers in check at a celebration. May they face the full wrath of our house."

It’s at this moment that Minthara steps forward, her expression icy and commanding as she forces her way between the two men. Her voice, sharp and authoritative, cuts through the noise with ease.

“Enough!” The hall falls silent, every guest turning to look as she stands between the two men, her gaze flickering with barely restrained fury. “Where are your wives?” she demands, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.

The two noblewomen step forward, both looking pale and uneasy. They bow their heads, muttering apologies for their husbands' behavior, but Minthara’s patience is already at an end.

“If you cannot control your obstinate charges,” she says coldly, “then you will duel to the death in their stead. Perhaps that will teach them to think twice before causing a scene.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing. “And as today is such a momentous occasion, the husband of the failure will be sacrificed to Lolth.”

The women’s faces drain of color, but a single, withering glance from Minthara silences any protest before it can leave their lips. They bow their heads in submission, accepting their fate with the resignation that only comes from understanding the consequences of disobedience in drow society.

The staff move quickly, clearing an area in the center of the hall and bringing forth two ornate seats for you and Minthara. As you take your place beside your wife, Lythaera climbs onto Minthara’s lap, settling comfortably as if this were all part of a regular evening. The crowd presses closer, eager to witness the spectacle, their whispers buzzing with anticipation.

The crowd goes silent as the two noblewomen step into the cleared space, the dim lighting of the hall casting long shadows across their faces. The air crackles with tension, each movement amplified by the stillness. You lean forward in your seat, your eyes never leaving the pair as they face each other, their expressions a mix of determination and fear. The stakes are clear: victory means survival; defeat means death—and the sacrifice of their husbands to Lolth.

Lesaonar shifts beside you, murmuring, “Twenty gold on the one to the left.” There’s a glint of excitement in his eyes, but you shake your head, suppressing a smile.

“You shouldn’t be encouraging gambling in front of the children,” you tease, but your tone holds no real reprimand. Instead, you reach out to shake his hand, sealing the bet. “I’ll take the one on the right.”

The noblewomen draw their weapons—thin, wickedly sharp blades that gleam under the flickering torchlight. They begin to circle one another, slow and deliberate, their steps echoing in the hushed hall. Every eye is on them, and you can feel the anticipation building, the way the crowd holds its breath as the duel begins.

The first strike comes quickly, the woman on the left lunging forward with a rapid thrust. Her opponent parries deftly, steel clashing against steel in a flurry of sparks. They disengage just as fast, circling each other again, their eyes locked in a predatory stare. It’s clear from the first exchange that they’re evenly matched, and you find yourself leaning forward, drawn into the dance of blades.

Minthara’s hand rests on Lythaera’s back, steadying her as their daughter watches in fascination.

“Mama,” Lythaera whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of the duel. “Why do they move so slowly?”

Minthara smiles faintly, not taking her eyes off the fight. “They’re not moving slowly, my love. They’re being cautious, looking for any weakness.”

Lythaera nods thoughtfully, her brow furrowing as she continues to watch. “One die?” she asks.

“Yes,” Minthara replies softly. “But that is the nature of a duel.”

The tempo of the fight increases, and the noblewoman on the right—your choice—presses forward, her movements quick and precise. She launches a series of rapid strikes, forcing her opponent to step back, parrying desperately to keep up. You can see the strain in the woman’s eyes, the fear creeping in as she realizes she’s being pushed to her limit. Sweat beads on her forehead, and you can hear her labored breathing over the faint hum of whispered prayers from the audience.

“Come on,” you mutter under your breath, willing your champion to press the advantage. “You’ve got her.”

Lesaonar smirks, shaking his head. “It’s too early to call,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the duel. “Patience, my dear.”

Just as he says that, the woman on the left finds an opening. With a sudden twist, she shifts her weight and lands a shallow cut across her opponent’s forearm. It’s a minor wound, barely a scratch, but the blood that trickles down her arm is enough to draw gasps from the crowd. Your heart skips a beat, and you catch the triumphant gleam in Lesaonar’s eyes.

But your champion isn’t finished. She uses the momentum from the strike to pivot, delivering a vicious slash that catches her opponent off guard. The woman on the left stumbles back, clutching her side, and you see the momentary flicker of fear in her eyes. She’s been wounded—a deep gash that stains her robes with crimson—and she struggles to regain her footing, her breathing now ragged and uneven.

Lesaonar curses under his breath, and you grin, unable to hide your satisfaction.

“Still think she’s going to win?” you whisper, and he scowls playfully.

“Beginner’s luck,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.

The woman on the right presses her advantage, her strikes becoming more aggressive, more relentless. The clang of steel echoes in the hall, each clash reverberating through the crowd like a drumbeat. Sweat drips down her face, her jaw clenched with determination as she drives her opponent back, step by step.

And then, with one final, decisive move, she finds her opening. Her blade slips past her opponent’s defenses, piercing her side with a sickening crunch. The woman on the left lets out a choked gasp, her eyes widening in shock as the weapon twists, cutting deep. She drops to her knees, the strength draining from her body, and the hall goes deathly quiet.

“It’s over,” Minthara murmurs, her voice carrying a note of finality. Lythaera watches with wide eyes, clutching at her mother’s robes as the defeated woman slumps forward, blood pooling around her.

You turn to Lesaonar with a triumphant smile.

“I believe that’s twenty gold,” you say sweetly. He groans, shaking his head as he reaches into his pocket and hands over the coins.

“I’ll get it back next time,” he grumbles, but there’s a lightness to his tone, a respect for the victor’s prowess that he can’t deny.

As the victor stands over her fallen foe, panting heavily, the hall erupts into applause, a mixture of awe and approval. The victor bows her head, her shoulders trembling with exhaustion and relief. You can’t help but feel a surge of pride, knowing that even amidst the chaos and danger of drow politics, you and Minthara have cultivated a place where power is respected, and strength is always rewarded.

“She did well,” Minthara murmurs, her eyes meeting yours. There’s a hint of pride in her gaze, not for the woman’s victory but for you—for the life you’ve built, the power you wield, and the unwavering strength you’ve shown tonight.

The air thickens with anticipation as the fallen noblewoman's husband is dragged into the center of the hall, his eyes wild with terror. He thrashes against the hands that hold him, but it’s futile—he’s already lost, and everyone here knows it. The crowd hushes, watching with bated breath, waiting for what comes next. Minthara rises from her seat, her expression cold and commanding, and gestures toward you with a graceful wave of her hand.

“My love,” she intones, her voice carrying across the hall, “the honors are yours.”

A thrill runs down your spine, the familiar surge of power bubbling up from within you. You step forward, and the crowd parts like water, their eyes widening as they make way. Lythaera squirms with excitement in Minthara’s lap, her little hands clapping together in delight.

“Mami’s magic!” she whispers, her voice tinged with awe. Minthara nods, a proud smile playing on her lips, her eyes never leaving you.

You come to a stop before the bound man, his breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. There’s a flicker of defiance in his eyes, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming fear that radiates from him. You tilt your head, considering him for a moment, before reaching out with a wave of your hand. Invisible threads of your magic wrap around him, binding him tightly. He tries to scream, but you silence him with a flick of your wrist, his mouth snapping shut as if sewn together by an unseen force.

The crowd watches in rapt attention as you begin the ritual, your voice low and melodic as you chant the ancient words of offering to Lolth. You weave your magic around him, threads of shimmering silk that pulse with divine energy. They wrap around his limbs, his torso, tightening with every word, every syllable you speak. He struggles, but it only serves to tighten the binds further, and you feel the intoxicating rush of power as your magic takes hold.

Lythaera leans forward, her eyes wide, completely entranced. “Mami,” she whispers, “she’s so strong.”

“Yes, she is,” Minthara replies, her voice soft and full of pride. “Watch closely, little spider. This is what it means to be powerful.”

You reach the pinnacle of your incantation, the words thrumming through you, and you lift your hands high, threads of your divine silk shimmering in the dim light. The man’s eyes widen, his muffled screams growing frantic, but there’s no escape now. With one swift motion, you plunge the threads into him, and his body convulses, the life draining from him in a brilliant flash of light. The silk threads glow, absorbing his essence, and you feel the surge of power as the offering is accepted by Lolth. The air hums with energy, the room pulsing with the divine acknowledgment of your sacrifice.

The crowd erupts into applause, cheers ringing out, voices raised in praise of your power and skill. You take a step back, breathing heavily, your heart pounding in your chest, and as the exhilaration of the moment washes over you, you feel a smile tug at your lips. You offer a humble bow, acknowledging the admiration of those gathered, and the applause grows louder, echoing off the stone walls.

As you straighten, your eyes catch Kyorlin’s across the room. He’s standing in the shadows, his expression tight with displeasure, his lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, he doesn’t realize you’re looking at him, but when your eyes meet, he quickly shifts, schooling his features into a mask of indifference. It’s an attempt to hide whatever he’s feeling, but you saw it—the flicker of disapproval, the hint of something more. You hold his gaze for a moment longer, letting him know you saw, and then you offer him a small, knowing smile before turning away.

You return to your seat beside Minthara, who reaches out to take your hand, her grip warm and reassuring.

“You were magnificent,” she murmurs, leaning in close.

“And you were as commanding as ever,” you reply, your fingers intertwining with hers. Lythaera, still perched on Minthara’s lap, reaches out to you, her eyes shining with pride and admiration.

“Amazing, mami!” she says, her voice brimming with excitement.

You smile, cupping her cheek gently. “Thank you, little one. It’s all for you.”

The applause continues to echo around you, the hall filled with the sound of reverence and fear. And in that moment, surrounded by those who would either bow to your power or be crushed beneath it, you feel the full weight of your strength, your love, and your family—unbreakable, invincible, and forever bound by the silk threads of fate.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Bigggggg chapter for y'all, hope you guys enjoyed the time skip, I wanted to give a little bit of everything - I also get I have introduced so many OCs but I just can't help myself, if anyone has any questions on the series, please flood my inbox !

Please let me know what you think, I cherish every like, reblog and comment. Love you all ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

@h-doodles @thepotatoislost @longjohnsilverfish @spacezombiez @les-bee @i-must-say-thats-quite-gay @m-for-musings @coratheninth @morganaspet @wineredsea @gaysindistress @trappedinafantasy37 @alicelufenia @damnsupercorp @iprobneedabeard @gingeyart @surrfix

[sugartraphq]

mwf?

*pops knuckles* 4theloveofkj, jadakingdom, jayda cheaves, kaylarwill, lira mercer, aaliyah jay, glowprincesss, emaza dilan, teyana taylor, karin jinsui, india love, crystal westbrooks, cydney christine, sza, karrueche, jt, alisahchanel_, themiaamoore, kash doll, maliibumiitch, summerella, savannahhperkinss, maurs_xo, jordyn woods, quen blackwell, iamhannalashay, victoria monet, de’arra taylor, chanel iman, naniya iman, ladiiscorpio, kianna jay, leah sorrell, aaija_, megan thee stallion, lightskinkeisha, shakyra kakes, theesudani, tiierralisaan, theoriginalke, parker posey, imani hakim, teaira walker, madison pettis, josie arias, asian doll, sumiea kato, chamarmoore, slaybyella, rubi rose, lauren london, rico nasty, morgan westbrooks, pattyeffinmayo, dailyn scott, carter kim, ceraadi, luvlondynnk, stefflon don, h.e.r, arnell armon, & cuban doll!

[highdio]

More JOJO x JAM HOME MADE Golden Wind Collection details (Giorno ring here):

M · P Necklace: Silver turtle necklace with gold-coated keyshaped inlay and natural ruby.19440¥.

Bruno Zipper Necklace: Gold-coated silver necklace equipped with a movable zipper pull, "a playful item that can be adjusted in length.” 16200¥. Giorno and Bruno Coin Necklaces: Elegant silver necklaces in the shape of Italian Lira, featuring Gold Experience and Sticky Fingers designs.16200¥. JOJO Key Necklace: Featuring the key Giorno, Bruno and Fugo acquired at the ruins of Pompeii in an oversized 1:1 scale. 14040¥. Giorno and Bruno coin bracelet: 26mm diameter silver bracelet shaped like Italian Lira, featuring Giorno and Bruno’s stands.  Each bracelet’s string feat. the Stand’s color scheme. 14040¥.

(Details: bandai-fashion.jp/news/detail.php?id=922.)

[kissfaeries]

hi! My favorite trope on earth is Enemies to Lovers too!! I haven’t read many books like this, would you recommend me your fave ones (or ones u haven’t read yet but think could be good)??? Thank you so much!

HI!!! you’ve come to the best person for this😂 i have lots of books to recommend:

•Cardan & Jude from The Cruel Prince

•Alex & Henry from Red, White & Royal Blue

•Harte & Esta from The Last Magician series

•Viola & Ruby from The Last Magician series

•Nina & Matthias from Six of Crows

•Will & Tessa from The Infernal Devices

•Daniela & Carmen from We Set the Dark on Fire

•Day & June from the Legend Trilogy

•Kirtash & Victoria from Idhún’s Memories

•Merrin & Bo from Girls of Storm and Shadow

•Elian & Lira from To Kill a Kingdom

•Lucy & Josh from The Hating Game

•Simon & Baz from Carry On

•Aer & Bipa from The Empress of the Ethereal Kingdom

•Mr Darcy & Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice

•Leah & Abby from Leah on the Offbeat

•Celia & Marcos from The Night Circus

I’ve also heard great things about these but I haven’t read them yet:

•The Wrath & the Dawn

•From Lukov With Love

•All For the Game series

•Spinning Silver

•An Ember in the Ashes

•The Bridge Kingdom

•Crier’s War

•Serpent & Dove

•Red Queen

Hope you enjoy them!!!😊

[wabbajxck]

“Oh, no. What are you doing here?”

the mummy starters ;; accepting @ulfhrafnx

Brilliant irises observe from the hazy mist ; glowing, pulsating, alive, in their sickly golden hue.  All but nearly drowned out by the moonlit gleam of wickedly bright whites of the eye – watching insistently from distant mists, at the center of a ring of toad stools red, a roundabout in the junction of natural paths leading to the heart of Falkreath Hold.  Though it is here he lingers – surrounded by his rotted ruby stools along the bordering of the extensive pine forests ; fog cast against his shoulders as if a cape & rainfall crowning his dampened head.  Leaving his form as muggy as the air itself.  Traitorous air it was.  Billowing in great gusts.  There’s something wrong.  & it carries in the wind.  & still the Prince makes no move nor guise to disperse the vision of himself, which seems to ripple & swirl with the evening fog, as it rolls into the valley, “Whatever could you mean ?”  

Sheogorath rocks childishly on his heels, hooking his fingers behind his back, the sickly golden light to his eyes spun without rhyme or reason as he hummed thoughtlessly.  The longer Lira might stare the more obscure the vision became ; those lights which pierced the dark to meet her own seemed to … drift off so to speak.  Hovering.  Floating —- no, flying away.  No, no, flying towards her.  Torchbugs.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  They meander lazily towards Lira, circling her, & the twin fairy ring, before drifting off into the night.  Leaving behind stark empty whites.   

“Do you know where here is – ?” the silhouette coos, “are you sure ? Think again !!” barking laughter, jovial & rich, surrounds her, his gaping maw revealed not grinning teeth or endless murk but expelled swirling waves of mist - as if the air around them was far more chilled than before ; but the humidity remained heavy, increasing even, as thunder echoed through the valley, “Watch where you tread, mortal mutt,” he warns gravely, stepping from his ring & fluidly apparating, dreadfully, aggravatingly, much too near Lira ( but could he help it ? so crowded up in this pitifully tight fairy ring ?? likely. ) “or you might find yourself roaming mindlessly in unfamiliar hunting grounds.” 

[rileysfs]

Red, running and gasp

Putting this below the cut due to the length of the answer and just in case some of my followers don’t want potential spoilers to my fic. 

(*) indicates a chapter that is already posted on AO3

All results are from This Shit is Weird: The Inquisitor Mina Lavellan Story.

Red (21 results; there may be more, but I searched “ red “ with a space before and after the word; otherwise I would have more than 100 (or 300) results to sort through):

*Chapter 1: She reaches into her pack and hands Mina a few bottles of red liquid. 

*Chapter 1: They round the corner and see a red glowing crystal that reminds Mina of raw lyrium ore, except red. 

*Chapter 1: “You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker?” Varric asks Cassandra. 

*Chapter 1: A dark figure with red glowing eyes is looming over her. 

*Chapter 4: “And of course you know Sister Leliana,” Cassandra continues, motioning to the red haired woman to her left. 

*Chapter 7: She asks how he and Cassandra know each other, as well as how he knows so much about red lyrium. 

*Chapter 9: “Cass!” Mina exclaims as her face goes an even darker shade of red that goes to the tips of her ears in embarrassment. 

*Chapter 9: “Maker, did you see how red he got?” Cassandra asks through her giggles. 

Chapter 13: Have a search for the red things in the market, the docks, and 'round the cafe, and maybe you'll meet him first. 

Chapter 13 (this one is the ‘signature’ on a letter): Friends of Red Jenny 

Chapter 13: The group bids farewell to the clerics and begins to head toward some of the Red Jenny clues. 

Chapter 13: I asked everyone else to meet us there after looking for the clues in that Red Jenny letter.” 

Chapter 13: Once at the estate, they learn they will have to do two things that evening: investigate the Red Jenny location, and attend Madame de Fer’s salon.

Chapter 14 (this is the title of the chapter): Chapter 14: The Threat Remains, Part 11 (A Friend of Red Jenny/The Imperial Enchanter) 

Chapter 14: The group gets to the location the Red Jenny clues led to and are immediately ambushed. 

Chapter 14: The Friends of Red Jenny. 

Chapter 14: ‘The Friends of Red Jenny’ are sort of out there. 

Chapter 16: After they finish eating lunch, Cassandra takes Eva to train with her abilities; Cullen goes back to training his troops; Leliana goes to send Mina’s letter to Queen Raisa; Josephine heads to her office to get back to work; and Mina takes some time to talk to her companions, starting with the Red Jenny:“So, this is it, huh?” Sera says as she invites Mina to sit next to her on the bed in the cabin she was given. 

Chapter 16: However, as she sits, she notices some red marks on Eva’s wrists and gasps. 

Chapter 18: She looks at Zevran, whose face is ruby red in embarrassment. 

Chapter 18: She sees some red marks on the Seeker’s wrists and gasps again. 

Running (7 results):

*Chapter 1: “I remember running,” she says after a bit. 

*Chapter 2: She doesn’t even bother looking up to see if the Breach is still in the sky as she begins running in Mina’s direction. 

*Chapter 5: Just as they are about to reach Mina’s cabin so she can grab something, a small child goes running past them with an older woman, seemingly her mother, following angrily behind, trying to catch her. 

*Chapter 7: “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. 

*Chapter 8: Just as Cassandra is reaching into her pocket to pull out the drawing of Galyan, Marcall comes running in the room.

Chapter 16: “What did I say about running off by yourself?!” 

Chapter 18: I was born first and was told that they didn’t use the cream they use for the births of multiples, so Lira could have suffered some brain damage from running out of air, but I don’t know.” 

Gasp (8 results; could be more because I searched “gasp “ with a space after the word; otherwise, I’d have 44 results and most of them would be “gasps”):

*Chapter 2: As Cullen looks over at Mina again, Leliana glances downward—oh, that’s definitely desire!—and nearly gets caught doing so, but hides her gasp as a yawn. 

*Chapter 9: “Oh, right,” Josephine says with a gasp as she reaches in her pocket and pulls out a key. 

*Chapter 10: “Maker, Mina, what are you doing out here in your nightclothes?” she asks with a gasp when she sees the Herald. 

*Chapter 10: Cassandra and Josephine look to where Eva is pointing and they both gasp when they realize what those notes probably are. 

Chapter 13: “Andraste’s knees, you weren’t joking!” she says with a gasp when she sees Mina. 

Chapter 17: “Creators, she’s allergic to the blanket!” Mina mutters with a gasp as she lifts Caroline off the blanket and pushes it to the side before setting her back down. 

Chapter 18 (smut scene): “Maker, Zev, don’t make me announce our activities to the whole town!” Leliana says with a gasp as he takes her other nipple in his mouth.

Chapter 22: “Wait,” Leliana says with a small gasp as she realizes something. 

Thanks for asking! I always love getting asks!