#medieval monks au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 years

Note

Hi there! First of all, I want to express my undying love for everything you write, it's absolutely amazing the way you describe Aemond's character.

May I request something about reader dealing with her period and Aemond taking care of her (maybe he wants to know anything about it to help her relax and relieve her pain and everything turns to sexual, it's up to you, really) since I'm one that suffer enough during those days and it would be of comfort to read something about it.

Thank you very much!

That is really sweet of you to say, thank you so much! I appreciate you and your support!

I'm a stickler for canon, I don't write modern AUs, so am basing this on the rough time period that HotD is set in (medieval era) - religious shame caused people to go to great lengths to hide their periods, and they even believed that cramps were a divine punishment for Eve's original sin. Since cramps were seen as a punishment, people who were menstruating weren't offered pain relief medicine (mostly herbal remedies at the time). There are few records from this era regarding the menstrual cycle/women's anatomy, as most medical texts were written by monks.

With this in mind, I'm going to write this from the perspective that both our character and Aemond are pretty clueless when it comes matters of "moon's blood", but Aemond is a naturally curious individual, so we are going to get real squicky with it. Anyway, I've rambled enough - onto the fic!

Warnings: Periods, smut, religious shame, clueless behaviour regarding women's anatomy, slight hematolagnia. Word count: ~1000

She awakens to intense cramping in her lower belly and a stickiness between her thighs. Pulling back the sheets, she gasps as she sees the crimson stains on both her nightgown and the bed.

This is the first time she's gotten her moon's blood since her and Aemond wed. She had hoped it wouldn't come at all, they hadn't been married long, but their coupling was frequent. They were both eager for a child, though it was more than apparent that they derived great pleasure from the act of attempting to create one too.

This is divine punishment cast down from the Mother for not having fulfilled her duty as a wife, she is certain of it. Her body has failed to produce a child, so now she must suffer the consequences.

She groans as her womb contracts painfully and yet more wetness blooms between her legs.

Aemond stirs beside her, voice still thick with sleep. "Are you alright, my love?"

She huffs, shifting uncomfortably and attempting to cover the stains, as her cheeks burn with shame. "It is nothing, go back to sleep."

"You are in pain." Her murmurs, taking in her furrowed brow and clenched jaw as he rouses to full wakefulness. His right eye goes wide as he spots red on the sheets, and he moves as quick as his grogginess will allow into a seated position to pull them back from her body. "Are you hurt?!"

Hot tears prickle her eyes, her chest feels heavy under the weight of her embarrassment as she covers her face with her hands, unable to bear the shocked expression on Aemond's face. "It is my moon's blood. I am sorry. What must you think of me?!"

Gently he pries her hands away, his expression softens noticeably. Concern is now etched across his features. "Is it painful?"

She sniffles and nods her head.

"I will call for the Maester, there is likely a herbal remedy he can-"

"No!" She cuts him off abruptly, gripping his arm in case he decides to leave the bed. "This is my punishment from the Mother for not producing an heir. I must endure it."

He sighs, giving her a small nod. He regards her carefully then asks "Where does it hurt?"

"Here." She responds placing her hand on her lower belly.

Gently, Aemond coaxes her hand away, replacing it with his own. The warmth and gentle pressure alleviates a little of the pain and she lets out a sigh of relief.

"Does that feel good?"

"Mmm." Is her only response as her eyes flutter closed.

His fingers drift to the hem of her nightgown and he pauses, looking back up to her face. "May I?"

She opens her eyes, looking at him quizzically. She knows Aemond has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but never anticipated it stretching quite so far. "It is unsightly." She whispers.

"I have lost an eye, it will take more than a little blood to startle me."

He does not wait for a response as he lifts her nightgown above her hips.

She watches, her heart thudding loudly in her rib cage as he drinks in the sight of the ichor that's smeared across her thighs.

Dexterous fingers coax them apart and run through the slickness of the blood that decorates their insides. He brings them up to his face to inspect, running the pad of his thumb across the red that now stains his fingertips.

"It is thicker than the blood I am used to seeing." He says in a matter of fact tone. "When people bleed in the training yard it is not quite so...viscous."

She stares at him with bated breath, not knowing what to do or say. This is so unbelievably crass she can't quite believe it's happening.

"Allow me a better look." He says, pulling her legs further apart and kneeling between them.

"I have got to be dreaming." She thinks. "Nothing like this could possibly happen in reality."

He swipes through her folds and she elicits a breathy moan. She is more sensitive than usual and his touch sends white hot sparks jolting through her body.

His gaze snaps to hers, a look of excitement bubbling beneath his usually composed exterior as he smirks. "You liked that?"

She nods enthusiastically, not quite knowing how to articulate what she wants to say. "It feels...it just feels more...more..."

Aemond chuckles. "And if I were to fuck you, do you think it would feel more?"

Her mouth falls open at his question, anticipation fizzling in her blood as she spots the length of him standing fully to attention against his lower abdomen. "I-I don't know." She stammers.

"Sinful, sinful, sinful." She thinks, but her mind goes blank the moment Aemond slips inside of her, the added lubrication of her bleeding creating less resistance than he would usually be met with.

He lets out a groan, eye screwing shut and jaw going slack. "Gods...your cunt...it feels..."

"More?" She offers with a giggle.

Her giggles turn to lewd moans as Aemond begins to thrust inside of her. Everything feels too much and yet not enough all at once. It's as though every nerve ending is ablaze with sensation and as the familiar ache begins to build deep within her, she knows she won't last long.

The wet sounds of Aemond pushing and pulling in and out of her, coupled with the slapping of skin and their mingling pants of pleasure create a cacophony that's absolutely obscene.

As she falls over the proverbial edge, her vision goes spotty with the intensity of it, her back arching off of the bed to push her body against Aemond's as she lets out a strangled cry.

The forcefulness of how she spasms around him rips his own end from him, and he spills inside of her with a string of High Valyrian obscenities tumbling from his lips.

He collapses against her and they both lay there for a few minutes, basking in each other's sweaty afterglow while they catch their breath.

Eventually, Aemond pulls out, watching with fascination as his seed mixed with her blood trickles from her.

"We should do this again." He muses quietly.

"My pain has gone." She says, a tinge of surprised wonder in her tone.

He stares at her, almost prideful. "Then we are definitely doing this again."

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #aemond #pro aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction #hotd aemond targaryen

703 notes · View notes

blissfulip · 7 months

Text

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation

Cw: blood, self flagellation, masturbation

Words: 1.7k

[A/N: extremely blasphemous, but again, you saw the tags. Please read at your own risk! (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby

Playlist made by my baby Soln <3 @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Extra ecclesiam nulla salus.

There is a certain comfort in fear. When you see what awaits you at the gaping, harrowing mouth of hell, knowledge of the place you must avoid, ultimately, is power. There was a time when Viktor pitied those who did not know—those who lived despondent lives, unaware and unafraid of damnation. Recently, he had found himself wishing he knew less.

A ravening beast with a thousand bloody teeth, inside its mouth a cauldron, and in it the souls of the accursed with sin, boiling over scorching flames as legions of fiendish demons dragged in multitudes more. This image plagued Viktor’s mind without rest, be it vividly in his dreams, in the colossal fresco at the entrance of his local cathedral, or in the comical props onstage at the theater plays.

The parish clergy that had taken him in as a kid had made the mistake of noticing his outstanding intelligence and awarding him time to dedicate to studying philosophy, a privilege that many of the choir monks and lay brothers did not receive. In university, philosophy had turned into physics, and soon that turned into astronomy, which he had to keep a secret on account of the recent prohibitions put in place by Paul V’s Inquisition over the study of Copernican theories.

After he was ordained and returned to his home cathedral, this once silent yet innocent interest had turned into complete secrecy, and the fear of God that had once given him solace now tormented him. At times he considered giving up on his work; the mechanical objections of Copernican theory should not be of this much significance to him after all; there had to be something of value in what Thomas Aquinas had to say, and perhaps Agustine of Hippo had some good points. Nevertheless, it was the night sky that called to him, and even this far from it, he could not escape.

But outside the church there is no salvation , and Viktor knew that even if he was never to be condemned as a heretic in life, what awaited him in death was a flaming tomb at Epicure's side. Quod extra ecclesiam nulla salus.

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

His parish was a pious one, but Viktor would refuse to receive lithe from the members of his church. The first time he tried this, the bishop was immediately alerted, and he was secluded to live in the small room inside the chapel as a ‘punishment’ for his impertinence. Viktor did not mind; the lands he had been previously allotted were too much to care for on his own, with cleaning being especially hard once his leg would start tiring out, and the presence of the personnel of lay brothers that would follow him around made his studies impossible; thus, the contained space of the church was comfortable to live in on his own.

It had been a particularly cold morning. The week before, he had received word of the imminent visit of his diocesan bishop, and the impending possibility of his stay at any moment in the near future had tied his eyebrows into a permanent knot and his shoulders into a tense bundle of nerves since that morning.

To his dismay, the state of his works had made no decent progress, his journal being nothing more than a few numbers and three words on a painfully empty piece of parchment. He understood Latin; he had studied it at length in university, but when he took a break to read the Bible, the words on it floated around aimlessly, in a messy concoction of nothing.

“Per fidem enim ambulamus et non per speciem,” he repeated to himself in a whisper, and then closed the pages lethargically.

He read the cover of a white volume that had been lying on his desk for over a month now. He was sure he would have possibly agreed with what Foscarini had to say, so the feeling of dread he felt every time he laid eyes upon the title was mystifying to him. Though it made sense after some reflection, he was afraid.

When he read Copernicus, it felt distant, a world he was only a visitor in, but the Foscarini was a carmelite father, one of his own that was now nothing short of a persona non-grata in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. Viktor was afraid that what he had to say might make sense and that he might be so correct in his observations that this knowledge would drag him into the same status.

In retrospect, he should not have read it.

In fact, opening the cover was a big mistake on its own. Not even 3 pages in, the door of his room unceremoniously barged open, revealing the full figure of Father Isodore. Viktor and him never really got along; his time in the monastery as a kid was full of rule-breaking and inappropriate questions, and to Father Isidore’s dismay, insatiable curiosity remained Viktor’s fatal flaw well into his adulthood.

Not a single word was uttered as he carried his sunny disposition and rubicund complexion over to Viktor’s desk. There was no use in trying to hide what he was holding; Viktor carried the same guilty look on his face every time he did something he was not supposed to. Once a cute kid trying to hide some innocent misdeeds, his expression had grown into one of unadulterated shame and indignity in the wake of sin, and the bishop knew this all too well. The book was snatched off his hands aggressively.

“‘Epistle concerning the mobility of the earth’,” he read, “would be an interesting read if only as a piece of fiction, and perhaps in a different climate.”

“Your excellence, I eh—”

“Save it. Don’t worsen your sin by bearing false witness.”

Viktor looked down and sighed in resignation, a disappointed sadness creeping up in his throat.

“You are very much aware those texts have been forbidden, but since words seem to slide off you, I hope physical penance can remind you of your depravity,” Father Isidore said coldly as he handed Viktor the whip that usually served as no more than a piece of decoration adorning his wall. “Ten of them, and be intentional. One pater noster after each.”

“Yes, father.”

“It’s a shame; I have come to congratulate you on your work for the community. Repent. ” The emphasis on the last word punctuated his departure.

A cold feeling arose in Viktor’s stomach as he looked down at the whip, something akin to fear but also awfully comparable to excitement.

Three deep breaths are what he allowed himself; it would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible. He removed his vestments unhurriedly, only his bottoms remaining as he sluggishly kneeled by the bed, and the chilled air on his back was, in hindsight, not as bad as he thought at the moment. His hand trembled slightly when his grip on the whip tightened, and his jaw locked into a gritted grin as he sucked air in through his teeth.

The first flick of his arm was swift, like ripping away a bandage to make the pain go away as fast as your wrist could tug at it. It did not help; the feeling of the small metal beads digging into his skin was instantaneous, and it disappeared soon, but the burning that replaced it lingered.

“ Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum; fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra .”

A swarm of ants biting at the exposed skin on his back was a scorching fire.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a malo.”

Then it subsided, and the slight chills on his arms were due to something else. He took his time with the second hit, languidly whipping both hands back this time to maintain the same level of strength. The aching this time was different; the burning of his skin was quenched by the few droplets of blood and sweat trickling down his spine. And there was something else—a burning feeling that was misplaced not on his back or wrists but in his lower stomach.

“Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen...” He started once again, both hands holding one another around the handle of the whip, closed in prayer as he shut his eyes tightly for concentration. This proved to be fruitless when an uncomfortable tightness in the fabric around his crotch distracted his attention away from the words he was reciting. He tried to continue with his prayer, but an ill-calculated movement tugged at the tender skin of his back, and the brief sting made the already confining feeling worsen, morphing into an odd mixture of ache and delight.

He figured out what this meant soon enough. The conflicting feeling did not originate from any sort of confusion about what he was experiencing; it came with the quandary of his two options: either keep going to conclude his penalty and follow orders, or go against those orders to avoid tainting this sacred act with his depravity.

He unlaced his trousers before going for the third whip. The aching feeling on his back was almost completely gone, replaced by a numb tingling along the wounded skin and an unbearable heat in his groin. The fourth hit was one-handed. Right hand wrapping tightly along the handle and left hand mirroring the grip around his cock as he pumped himself mechanically. When the metal hit the skin, a jolt of what felt like electricity traveled all the way down to his stomach, the member on his hand twitching in anticipation.

There was no fifth hit or anything beyond that. A final tug with a firm hand and gritted teeth culminated in his climax, hot viscosity percolating through his fingers as he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. His chest heaved up and down as he whispered a string of prayers. Shame washed over him.

“Castigo corpus meum.” He repeated incessantly until he had enough strength in his legs to stand.

#viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane au #viktor au #priest au #legion #Spotify

115 notes · View notes

taliesin-the-bored · 9 months

Text

Obscure Arthurian text which everyone should read #1: The Story of the Crop-Eared Dog

This is what happens when you mash together a revenge quest, a slasher movie, a buddy road trip, a bildungsroman, a fantasy epic, and a shaggy dog story and set it in medieval times. Because there aren’t many Irish Arthurian texts, whether Bhalbhuaidh, the protagonist, is meant to be Gawain or Galahad is controversial. His name and titles could point to either and his life situation seems more like Gawain’s, but I will refer to him Galahad because I find the idea of a Galahad AU where he’s pagan and gallivants around with a prince who was turned into a giant dog and lost all qualms about murder along the way entertaining. It starts when Arthur, who inexplicably holds the title of King of the World, convenes a hunt in the Dangerous Forest on the Plain of Wonders and the mysterious Knight of the Lantern does what any antagonistic knight worth his salt would do: gatecrash and ask for violence. It gets less normal very rapidly from there. Abhlach the druidess is at least as awesome as she is wicked, Galahad may or may not have a magical music-making sword, and the fact that there’s an Island of Naked Monks is never given any explanation because it’s only mentioned in passing when the dog tells Galahad he killed them all.

Yeah, it’s a fun read.

Here’s a link to the translation I read:

#Arthuriana #Sir Gawain #or Sir Galahad #no one is sure which #obscure #Did I fail to mention that it’s hilarious?#and has way too many adjectives #anyway #if you read it you won’t regret it

70 notes · View notes

dnickels · 5 months

Text

People commented on the medieval-Oxford-murder-capital-of-England post about wanting a medieval Morse spinoff (a la Brother Cadfael) but today at work I could only think about how much it would whip as the setting for an Endeavour AU. Morse as a disgraced former student and Thursday as-- the local sheriff? Tragically I know nothing about the medieval world but I am enchanted by the idea, so many chances to draw contrast between The World and The Cloister. Endeavour already does this but I love the idea of a former monk/scribe and a very earthy chaucerian family man Thursday trying to solve the mystery who Who Hath Stabbed Yon Goodman. A chance to drag out the rarefied, mystic aura around learning and the word itself.

20 notes · View notes

ocd-kenobi · 2 years

Note

oh! I know The Name of the Rose is one of your favourite books (a great read, love it as well!), and that it inspired your AU drabble collection...which aspects of the book were your favourite and how you would like to see them reflected through the obikin dynamic in general, and/or in your future fics? thank you <3

omg pls and thank you for this, ilu. Also so happy you sent this on Saint Francis's feast day!

I think my favorite aspects of the book have not made it and probably will not make it into my obikin! I'm not really going to say anything about storytelling, librarianship, translation, gothic literature, or translations into anachronistic genres, which are the things that really get my heart clenching about that book.

I think mostly the things I was inspired by in it are the freedom to just write gay sex happening in monasteries (without having to make a whole thing about it) and the passionate discussion amongst medieval monks and friars (and the clergy) about how best to serve god. I was fascinated by the chapter-long debates about different monastic leaders all hinging on the subject of whether they should remain cloistered and hoard knowledge (monks) or whether they should be out in the community working in service of people and sharing their knowledge (friars.) Meanwhile, the clergy is just tied up in politics and power grabs. In my fic I'm looking forward to drawing some more silly parallels in having the community-serving friars (like Jedi) in tension with the money-hoarding church they are sort of a part of (the republic/the chancellor.) And just having more conversations between characters about that.

On a more specific note, I've been thinking of having a library-at-night sex scene in the forbidden sections of the library Just Because.

Gah, I love that book so much. I also totally ship William and Adso and maybe a little bit of their sexy mentor/mentee relationship has seeped into my Obikin, but not intentionally so.

On another note, I was also recently struck by this insane idea to write a Powerwolf/Monumental Mass AU where Obi-Wan is an innocent monk novitiate and the clergy of his church are werewolf vampires and in trying to investigate the strange things he's been seeing he ends up getting converted to their werewolf vampire ways because the bishop (Darth Vader) is just so sexy LMAO but that's another story.

#asks #medieval monks au #friars au #the name of the rose #powerwolf au

6 notes · View notes

vad-hander · 2 years

Text

MY LOVE, ITS BEEN TOO LONG

pairing: Jeno x reader

genre: medieval!au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow-burn, established relationship

warnings: reader!princess, Jeno!knight, forbidden love

words: 4.3k

PART 1 | PART 2

“Milady, the King is arriving back at the castle. He would like to see you after the monks’ bell.”

“In that long? I could come by now.” you jumped up from the bench you sat on while taking a break from the tiring walk in the garden.

“His Excellency would like to rest after the road trip. It was an exhaustingly long road.”

“I understand.” you gave them a nod and as your fathers server bowed, they quickly got lost between the bushes of the garden.

“You must be very fond of your father.” The man next to you spoke.

“It’s not that-“ you cleared your throat “I am very fond of my father but there’s a conversation we need to have. I need courage to speak.” you added in whisper to yourself.

“Nervous? Why would you feel that way?” The man looked at you, making you raise your eyebrow. Even if he was a respected guest, there were boundaries, he had to remember. “I apologise, it’s not any of my business.”

“You’re right, it’s not.” you smiled at the man and looked away. He’s been asking a lot of unnecessary questions as soon as he realised you weren’t on the cold and untouchable side, finding more time in the day to ask away. The man, surprisingly to you, had so much spare time besides all the meetings castles subordinates arranged for him with the merchants of the village. It was for the best, though, his presence helped you to get your fixated brain off the only man you could think of. The one you were not able to see for the past couple of days.

The more time passed since your last interaction the more worry crawled up your spine. You wanted to talk to your father, ask him what did he tell Jeno, what was the conversation about? Was he even fine…? Alive… even? You shivered at the mere thought of him not being with you anymore.

“Your highness, is everything okay?” The man reached out for you, coming back to his senses quickly and pulling back.

“I’m good. Thank you.”

“Father! I hope the trip wasn’t too tiring for your Excellence.” you left kisses above his knuckles.

“The trips always get tiring when you get my age.” he chuckled.

“Father!” you exclaimed in an attempt to scold him. “You are still very young. May your life be everlasting.”

“My child, it would be tiring.”

“Right.” you smiled expectedly, you were happy to see your father once again, but talking to your father wasn’t the reason behind that bubbling feeling in your chest. You really wanted to just ask him about Jeno now.

“Did you enjoy the company of our guests?”

“Yes, yes.” you nodded, smoothing down the dress around your waist. “Besides being very busy, Sir Lamet made a lot of effort in keeping me company. I’m very thankful for that. Since my dear sisters’ departure I’ve been lonely in our castle. My only friends are my servant Kirsta and Sir Jeno, who seemed to disappear all of a sudden.” you looked at your fathers emotionless face expression upon mentioning Jeno. “Have you, by any chance, heard of his whereabouts? Usually he would tell me if he had to leave for a campaign.”

“No, I have not heard of him, I was away, may I remind you.” you nodded, your ears not being able to hear anymore as blood rushed to your head. “Sir Lamet will join us for dinner today.” The King looked at his cuticles.

“Okay.” you nodded and stood up from the floor you sat on previously next to your fathers leg. You needed to find Kirsta immediately.

“I have not finished my words.” your father spoke firmly, still with a caring undertone. You turned around to drop back on your knees.

“I apologise.”

“At the dinner Sir Lamet will ask for my blessing and I will give him one.”

“What do you mean?” you blinked dumbfounded. “What sort of blessing?“

“Blessing to marry you. You’re old enough now and there’s no reason for me to keep you sheltered in the castle any longer-.”

“But I thought Sir Lamet was-“ you couldn’t talk as a lump in your throat blocked air, you had to gasp. “You’ve told me Sir Lamet was just a high-rank merchant, how, how the Kings daughter could marry a merchant. Didn’t Sir Jeno come to you for a conversation before you left?”

“He did. I didn’t approve of that.”

“But why…? You-, didn’t you find Jeno a respectable young man? I thought he was a part of our family, you never-.” you gulped and realised you talked too much, bowing apologetically.

“Your sister thought she was tortured when she got married. She never showed it to you, she cared for her little sisters feelings. She didn’t want you to be scared of your own future, but in a private conversation she told me she was scared. I gave her my reassurance that everything will be good, and look at her now? She is happy indeed, her letters are full of love. I knew it wouldn’t be the case for you, not after you and that boy imagined all sort of things about your future. I personally asked Prince Lamet to come here and get to know you and let you to get to know him, for you to get to know each other.”

“P-prince?” you gulped and felt frozen in your limbs.

“This is what I did for you, my dear little girl, because I always had a soft spot for you, my little princess.”

“Sir-, Prince Lamet pretended to be a merchant for three days to get close to me before asking for your blessing?”

“Yes.”

“Please send him away, father.” you lowered your head and begged, with no second thought. “I-“ you saw no point in biting your tongue anymore. “I love Sir Jeno. I would only want to marry him. He would be my perfect husband, he could become the King one day if it’s needed.”

“A nameless boy from a poor family? The King? You must be out of your right mind, child.”

“His family aren’t the richest in our kingdom, but they are well-off, Jeno is a knight, he’s well off on his own, educated, naturally smart. There is not a reason to doubt his abilities.”

“It’s set. The marriage is set and not up for discussion with a stupid girl like you. I’ve let you make up a story in your head and that was a mistake.” The King raised his voice. “Leave, now. You are frustrating me. This is not how I raised you. After all the things I’ve done for you, after everything I’ve allowed you I should’ve expected your behaviour to get out of hands. This is unacceptable. Prince Lamet is the future King in his country, he needs successors, the fact that The Crown Prince himself traveled here and took care of your feelings shows that he’s more than deserving to get my blessing, he is more than deserving to get you as his wife. The conversation is over. See you at the dinner.” You bowed multiple times with a shaking eye, making your way out on trembling legs.

“Kirsta!” you screamed loudly as soon as you were able to find your way to the wing with the servants rooms.

“Milady, I’m so sorry, I went to my brother while you were with the King.” she bowed 90 degrees at you.

“Run me a bath, I’m going to sleep.”

“Milady, I was told to make you look beautiful for today’s dinner.” she asked with her polite voice. “Sir Jeno is coming, right?” she beamed.

“Tell them I’m sick.” you turned around and ran back to your room.

“Milady.” Kirsta caught up with you, coming inside. “The King himself told me to make sure you were attending. Otherwise, he told me, I should report that to him, and he’ll take you there with his own force.” you closed your eyes tired. The girl was definitely uncomfortable in the situation, the threat from the King directed at you was one of the unusual things in the household. “I beg you to let me get you dressed. I would never want to frustrate you, Milady, but under the influence of your father, our King, I don’t have a choice.” she lowered her head, almost dropping to her knees.

“Did you know, that the merchant that stayed with us is a Prince?”

“The-“ The girl raised her head up puzzled. “Sir Lamet is a Prince?”

“You know everything and everyone! Don’t lie, that none of you servants didn’t get the rumour before my fathers return! Don’t lie!” your insides began to boil.

“Milady, I did not know. If I knew, I would’ve told you. I would not keep that from you. I promise.”

“I’m forced to leave with him-“ your voice cracked. “At the dawn, tomorrow.”

“My dear Milady, how-? The King-.” the small girl in front of you chocked on her words, showing way too many pure emotions at once. “Sir Jeno is-.”

“Kirsta.” your heart jumped in your throat at the bare mention of his name. “Find him for me, I know you have siblings, many siblings who don’t live in our castle, cousins and many other. Please, just ask them to find Jeno and pass a note to him.” You dropped on your knees, begging in tears, while your hands gripped hers.

“Milady, you know I can’t. Please get up on your feet, Princess, you will hurt your knees.”

“Why? Why can’t you?”

“I can’t go against the King. Even if I could, I would not put my family under the threat, I’m sorry. I can’t, I really can’t. My family are poor people.” she pulled onto your hands, taking in your stilled figure as she spoke. “You know that your father would not show mercy towards anyone if they’re not you. I cannot-.”

“Is this how you’re paying for everything I’ve done for you?” You jumped up, making the girl startled. You were only hoping no one was sent to listen to you behind the door. “All the times I closed my eyes for the things you’ve done. With how disrespectful you are, with my clothes not being prepared thoroughly? So many things I closed my eyes on for you to not get scolded.”

“Dear Princess, I don’t have enough words to thank you for your utter kindness, but this is beyond my abilities.”

“Leave.” you ripped your hands out of her hold. “Get out of my chamber!” you screamed in pure rage. The coldness of the room was nothing to your burning face. It wasn’t just warm and red from crying. It was on fire with the burst of emotions you’ve never experienced before. You screamed at the top of your lungs in agony.

“Milady, I-.”

“Leave before I tell everyone how many times you messed up! Get out! Go! Leave! Now!” you shrieked at the top of your lungs. “I hate this house! I hate you! I hate everyone!” Kirsta jumped to her feet, forgetting about the manners, running away with her back to you. Your eyes ran over the chamber that you called your own. The place that was meant to be your safe space now only seemed to be filled with coldness, you snorted, as if it was any less cold before. The dark stones radiated coldness, no matter what season it was, what was the weather like outside, the stones were always cold to the touch, dark and dirty to the look. No matter how many hours servants spent on cleaning them - they still were an ugly piece of rock. A narrow aperture that allowed a hint of light into the room attracted your attention - you would spend hours staring out of it, watching your folk live a life you couldn’t, watching how people would come and go into the castle, watch the only person you ever loved approach the stairs. How badly you wished he’d somehow appear in front of the stairs now.

Besides the hole in the wall that allowed you to take a look of the outside world the chambers decoration consisted of an extensive high bed, which was the dominant and the most important interior decoration, a dressing table with a mirror that you barely used, since there was little to no chances for you to get ready by yourself and a screen for changing clothes. In addition there was a vase on a big stand next to the entrance, to which you walked, grabbing the vase and smashing the porcelain before you could think against the floor. It didn’t take much strength in you to smash the fragile decoration thanks to the stone tiles.

“My Princess!” the door opened wide, your eyes drifting to see the person that opened it with your wide eyes. “Did you get hurt?” the man rushed over to you, taking your hands in his to inspect them. But he wasn’t Jeno, he wasn’t allowed to call you his princess because you weren’t his. You pulled your arms back in an instance.

“Sir Lamet. I am not your Princess, don’t call me that.” You bashfully hid your hands behind your back. How did he even get here?

The man inspected your eyes for a second, lowering them back to the porcelain. “Did your father not have a conversation with you yet?” he took a good look at your face once again. There wasn’t a chance he didn’t notice the state you were in, still wet trails of tears on your cheeks, puffed up eyes and overall redness of your appearance, but whatever was the reason, he didn’t mention it.

“He did. Did you come to ask my opinion, too?” you asked coldly, walking away from him. Your feet took you to the dressing table, you sat down busying yourself with the brushes.

“I-.” he swallowed before trailing behind you. “Dear Princess,” The man paused as if in deep thought, but in a moment found your eyes in the reflection of the mirror, staring to speak. “This may come as a shock to you, but I have to let you know, I am mesmerised by your character, your natural graciousness and tact.” you wanted him to stop there. Raise from the stool, give him a thank you and excuse yourself. “All your qualities made me certain I have not made a mistake by coming here after your fathers pleads to meet you first, before pronouncing you my wife.” you sighed silently. “I never expected my family, Me, to make an exception, but now, that the exception has been made, I may have to tell you, my goal for the life is to make our family happy, I’ll let you take full reign of the castle, full reign of my heart.” you paused, staring at the man through the mirror. What was he doing? Is this how things were done in his country? You’ve loved Jeno since you were 5, and despite the fact the love was mutual, you two never even said the words, never even tried to, it was obvious and clear and didn’t need words to be spoken. You felt scandalised, astonished. This man’s words were such a vulgarity blood rushed to your face once again. “Dear princess, my dear princess, I want you to know that the recent days we spent together…” he paused but it didn’t seem like he was done talking, still, you wished for him to shut up. “I pronounce my love for you. I love you.” you opened your mouth wide. He was not-. He, most definitely was, confessing his love to you. Maybe he’s feeble-minded? That’s why you were set to be next to him?

“Wh-what?” you couldn’t hold your composure because one thing was being forced and tricked into a marriage against your will to a man that didn’t care either - it’s not something you were willing to accept, but the foreign prince saying he loves you right after you met each other? You almost chocked shocked. You’d rather hear him say he hated your presence, being forced into living with a man that loved you against your wishes gagged you.

“I will give you as much time as you need to come in terms with your feelings towards me.”

“Sir Lamet.” you intently kept away from saying his title. “I appreciate… I won’t come in any terms with my feelings towards you. I won’t-.” he opened his mouth as you spoke and you closed your mouth immediately, you weren’t about to interrupt a man, no matter how upset or hurt you were.

“I brought this necklace with me from my home. It belonged to my great-great grandmother and now that we’re going to get married, I’m passing it on to you.” The Prince reached out to your neck, drawing a few lines over your nape with his fingertips. Your breath hitched at the touch of those foreign fingers. You almost closed your eyes thinking of Jeno’s gentle touch to your breasts last time he was here. You could only open them when the cold stones hit your chest, you focused on how heavily you breathed, how the dress was caging in your sudden necessity to breathe. You missed out how the Prince touched your bare shoulders, how his lips landed over the skin of it and planted a kiss there.

“Sir Lamet, you should not-.” you jumped up, almost making him trip over the stool that got in the way of his legs, at the same time almost knocking his teeth out with your shoulder. “Please, take this off. Take the necklace back.” you touched the back of your neck to get it off you.

“No, I want you to wear it to our first dinner as engaged couple.”

“I’m not-.” his eyes flickered at your words. They snapped into threat and back in a blink, but it was enough for you to notice, your father did the same thing at times. “I will gladly wear the necklace to our first dinner, Sir Lamet.” you bowed, smiling diligently.

“You can just call me Crown Prince.”

“Of course.” you bowed, expecting him to disappear.

Swallow, blink and smile, you told yourself.

“Kirsta.”

“Yes, Milady.” she ran up to you, her head was still low, letting you know the aftertastes of your last conversation still lingered in her heart.

“I-.” you sighed. “I have to give you my apology. Since my sister left, you were nothing but a friend to me.”

“Milady, you should not-, I would never ask for your apologies, it’s me who should really apologise and appreciate your kindness and understanding.”

“It’s fine, it really is.” you watched the only other person in the room finally be done with the porcelain pieces on the floor and leave. “If only you could help me with one thing-.” the girl rose to her actual height, her ears peeking up to listen.

“I would do anything for you, Milady, as long as it doesn’t involve my family.”

“It’s not.”

“I am here for your service.”

“Help me sneak out of the castle.”

“Mil-.”

“No, please, listen.” The girl blinked fast. “I need your help to see Jeno. I have to see him.”

“If the King finds out I helped-.” she whispered in fear.

“He would not!” you whispered back. ”I’ll attend the dinner.” The girls eyes lit up ”I’ll be on my best behaviour and then you’ll help me to run away and see Jeno.” Kirsta lowered her eyes to her feet, clearly lost in thought. ”I have to see him, Kirsta. Before they force me to another country forever. I cannot leave without seeing him for the last time! Please!”

”I understand, milady, but…”

”Whether you’ll help me or not, I will run away to find him. Your help would make my task much easier, but I’ll go through it either way.” you swallowed and straightened your back back. You were a princess at the end of the day, the girl must know her place, you thought.

“I will try my best.” the girl finally said.

“For starters, send someone from the castle to see if Sir Jeno is in town. Incognito, obviously.”

“Yes, Milady. I can easily do that for you.”

“Make sure they are back before the dinner ends!” you threaten for no reason, you didn’t need to doubt the girl, you knew it for sure.

“Milady.“ A low-toned whisper made you jump in fear. As the sun was setting castles corridors turned into space with a lot of dark corners.

“Who- who are you?“ did Kirsta manage to bring Jeno to the castle? You were about to burst in tears.

“Milady, Kirsta is waiting for you on the other side of the castle. She asked me to help you get there.“ The man walked out of the dark corner and he didn’t look anything like Jeno, you sighed. It was indeed very naive to assume he’d be here.

“I excused myself from the dinner.“ You explained as the man wasn’t just walking in front of you, with every next step he took he sprinted even faster than before, fully running just a couple minutes into the walk. “There is a great chance I won’t be needed for a long time. We don’t have to hurry up so much.“ You tried to sound more insistently than before. The dress and shoes you were, heaviness of the accessories on your chest and head didn’t help your running abilities you were panting and grunting.

“Milady, I assume you don’t understand much of the real life behind these walls.“

“Yes, and what do I not understand?“ You asked amused, bumping into the man that suddenly stopped on his tracks, turning to face you.

“That if anyone sees you coming out of this castle every one of us is going to be hung with a rope around our neck, even the ones who had nothing to do with you and your little affair.“

“It’s not true.“ You shook your head in disbelief.

“You have never been outside. You don’t even understand that you wouldn’t survive a minute being the way you are on the other side of that wall.“

“This is not true, also.“

“You’d get raped and robed a second some homeless drunk sees you in your pretty dress with those stones on your neck. And he would be right for that.“

“Excuse me?! What is your name?“

“Does that matter? I bet my life you’ll never return once you get your feet out. Kirsta seems to not understand that she can get you out but there’s almost no chance for you to get back, even if you’d ever want it.“

“Why do you help?“

“I don’t want Kirsta to get in trouble because of you.“

“I-,“ you gulped, trying to think of what to say. You weren’t getting her in trouble, she helped volunteerily.

“Milady! Milady!“ Kirsta ran through the corridor, you could see her figure through the dim lighting.

“Yes?“

“I was scared something happened to you, why is it taking you two so long?“

“Is Jeno in the village?“

“He is, my cousin walked past the house.“

“Thank god.“ You sighed relieved, finally.

“Put this on, quickly, we have to hurry, milady.“ She threw over your shoulders a dirty-brown coloured cape. It was perfect length to hide the hem of your dress. Kirsta threw the hood over your head. “Don’t take this off, please keep your head lower, the folk could notice and you’ll get in trouble, let’s go.“ The girl gestured to follow behind and you did, running to the garden. The man that escorted you to Kirsta still followed behind, you wondered what were his motives.“Milady, I won’t go any further with you, I have to go back to the castle and make sure everything is okay while you’re absent.

“How do I find Jeno, where does he live? Where do I have to go?“ The man besides you snorted.

“I have my cousin waiting for you behind that wall of flowers. He’ll get you to Jeno.“ You opened your mouth to thank the girl before you were interrupted.

“Kirsta! Not the family! Didn’t we talk about how dangerous it is to help her?“ The boy hissed. You were working out his features, was he Kirsta’s brother?

“He’s just a kid! No one would suspect.“ She pushed him away, talking to you once again. “Please keep a step behind from him, that way the both of you will be safe.“

“Yes, fine.“ You nodded, it did really feel like needed to go now.

“Milady-,“ the girl grabbed onto your hand “This is the important part… you have to ask Sir Jeno to walk you back. My cousin will not be able to wait for you.“

“It’s fine, Kirsta, I will find my way back. Now, you two, go back, before we’ll attract attention.“

“Yes, yes. I’ll be packing your things for tomorrows departure.“

“Sure.“ You smiled at her kindly.

The way out of the castle was rather disgraceful, you had to admit. Pushing your body through branches and bushes, jumping over a low fence that finally somehow got you out of the place you called your home. You ran your eyes over the wall, raising them more up to see the castle. You just wished you could take a very last glance at your father, to have the chance to get back to your chamber and take with you the things that made that soulless room a tiny bit warmer.

“Are you… the princess?“ You got jump-scared once again. Were you that obvious to get busted in an instance, the moment your feet landed outside? “Do you know Kirsta?“

“Oh- You’re going to help me?“

“Yes, I think I will.“ The boy smiled mischievously. He wasn’t taller than the level of your elbow, making you wonder if your escort was even 10.

257 notes · View notes

humanmorph · 2 years

Photo

Lye „Lyke“ Lychen as a sacrifical altar (to Aterika’Kaal) (but he's also kind of the sacrifice)

my @secret-samol gift for @bronanlynch! for the Aterika’Kaal/Lyke prompt of „what if things had gone differently and Aterika'Kaal was still with Lyke“.

notes on this under the readmore!

In this scenario Lyke would succeed in getting the heart of the Motherbeast in Episode 47 and while Alaway would notice & probably still call out to Aterika’Kaal the way he presumably did in canon, Lyke would be there and get to make a compelling case to Aterika’Kaal the likes of „If you stay with me I am going to feed you. I’ve taken care of you until now, I’ll keep doing that“ (argument supported by the fact he’s currently holding the heart of an incredibly powerful dead god). Aterika’kaal agrees and they barely escape through the Sanctum of the Stone Chorus portal. I think it's fun if Lyke then stays there after the hour described in the move is over, maybe knowing he can't convince Pickman & the others that what he's done is actually good, and fine, there's not even anything to worry about he has this totally handled, But yeah he then sets out from whereever in Sangfielle Aterika'Kaals domain is (Austin did say it was an actual place somewhere), and the rest of the Blackwick Group is left to wonder what the hell happened since Lyke just vanished! Alaway has possibly fucked off too after losing the heart. And them getting fired, the Carnival of Moted Light etc. would still happen (and I guess Chine would succeed at what they were doing since Lyke isn’t there?) and who knows if they’d take any action in finding Lyke after that! All that aside though, Lyke basically offers himself to feed on (through blood and/or energy) and to sustain that he keeps consuming(not literally eating) powerful objects/artifacts/resources and possibly eventually living things (I’d imagine he'd still take work as a „please deal with this weird shit for us“ person and when he has to kill a cursed beast or whatnot... might aswell feed Aterika'Kaal?) (What also plays into that decision, and is part of Lyke justifying this to himself, is that without him, Aterika’Kaal would become too powerful. So he aims to function as kind of a conduit & control the power intake so to speak. I think this probably doesn’t work for very long.) I think this eventually goes bad for him because it’s super taxing on his body and the whole deal kind of flips with Aterika’Kaal feeding/keeping HIM alive. He starts finding bodies in the domain again (alternatively, Aterika'Kaal gets better at hiding them because it knows Lyke doesn't particulary like it when it does that). Lyke probably gets stronger due to this power/magic wise, but also way more fragile (he's constantly anemic!). („I love you. I want us both to eat well.“ - Christopher Citro) („When I write of hunger I am really writing about love and the hunger for it, and warmth and the love of it and it is all one.“ M.K. Fisher) Notes: I put some resources Lyke’s canonically had in-game + some extra stuff in this picture (the arrow is a reference to Marn’s epilogue, the bugs are bugs (with possibly sinister connotations. If you want them to have those, it’s optional) and the fur is from the Ravening Beast). Another detail I came up with I might aswell tell you because otherwise noone might ever know: the ring with the blue stone is a gift from Es. Sketch Notes: 1. Lyke turning his head to kiss a rose / exposing his neck was one of my very first ideas/sketches I made while working on this, and I liked it too much to not include it. 2. This is supposed to be Aterika'Kaal giving Lyke a blood transfusion but it rather looks like it's feeding on him instead...! I like how the relaxed pose turned out. 3. I wanted to draw something smaller in a simpler style to fill the big canvas I was drawing these on (even though now I put them in separate files anyways...). The day I drew this I saw a tweet about a medieval monks sketchbook, so I was still thinking about that. I didn't even plan to color it originally but I ended up getting invested, haha

Inspired mainly by these 3 quotes: „KEITH: I’m a walking- I am a shrine to Aterika’Kaal.“ (Sangfielle 12: The Secret Ledger of Roseroot Hall Pt. 4) „KEITH: There's a version of dealing with Aterika'Kaal that ends with Lyke being satisfied that he rehabilitated a god or at least it looks […] like what he thinks Aterika'Kaal would have been before the YVEs showed up. That's probably his main retirement path, but it also might kill him instead.” (Sangfielle 47: Wax, Iron, and Ichor Pt. 4) „AUSTIN: As you’re fading, the last thing that you do is make this blood sacrifice to Aterika’Kaal. Your own blood.“ (Sangfielle 52: Six Travelers: Lyke)

#secret samol #sangfielle #friends at the table #fatt #rosa art #lye lychen #aterika'kaal #lyke #guy of all time btw this was such a joy to draw and think about #its so funny to me though because i almost put lyke/aterikakaal on my own prompt list but then for whatever reason didnt #and then i saw it on the spreadsheet (2) & was like 'man i hope someone picks them. i want to see this.' BUT IT WAS ME... IM SOMEONE....#@ those 2 people (one is eliot bronanlynch. i know this) especially: i hope you enjoy!!!!!! @ everyone else you too ok : )#the notes were in a pdf originally i didnt think id write so much.#i thought about making it bullet points maybe itd look neater on tumblr but i dont. want to... copy&paste it is...#this isnt the first time i painted digitally but it MAY be the first time ive had a good time with it #i used the twitter circle thing for the first and possibly last (until next secsam) time for this so i could post wips. for motivation #it worked : )#cool to see my actual progress #fun fact about the quotes i added i spent like. a lot of time to look for a better one than the citro quote #because i straight up just do not like the poem its from. i am ripping it out of its context. but it still sounds nice. i folded eventually #the urge to ramble on the the tags........ i will overcome it now and post this #ARGH i forgot tumblr doesnt take transparency on large files well.... it just turns white #well ive made it dark now on the painting it looks better than white but the original was transparent. know this #im posting this kind of late. relatively. i JUST got back from work

109 notes · View notes